Recent irrational thoughts

My apologies for the obscene amount of time between my last post and now.  To catch you up, since the time of my last post, I:

• Completed a few months of physical therapy with the wonderfully talented therapists at Hershey Med and, with their tough love, managed to get to healed enough to begin long distance running again and learned a maintenance plan consisting of foam rolling, stretching, and strength work to prevent other injuries to the area.
• Ran the Marine Corps Marathon, Annapolis 1/2 Marathon, Harrisburg Marathon (as part of a great relay team), and Disney Marathon.
• Attempted to start a consistent swim routine at a new pool.
• Continued to take classes (MBA graduation in May!), continued my full-time work, and began some part-time work.

So now that you’re caught up on what’s happened over the past few months, let’s get to what I think is a fairly irrational thought of mine.

I mentioned above that I’ve attempted to keep a regular routine at the pool. Basically, this is an attempt to hone my swimming skills and to keep a decent cardio routine while giving my knees a break, since they’ve begun to protest a bit to the long distance runs.  The thing is, however, I don’t like swimming. I rarely, if ever, am excited about packing my pool gear bag (and inevitably forgetting some essential item), changing awkwardly in the office’s handicapped bathroom stall into my swimsuit after work (for some reason, I dislike having to change in the pool locker room even more), jump into the pool, and stare at the lane line painted on the bottom of the pool during laps.

And, to let you in on a secret, there are days when I have the same sentiment towards going for a run.  I just don’t feel like it.

When this happens and I have to talk myself into beginning the workout, and then into more laps or miles, I often tell myself, “You have to do this. You have to. Do it because Eileen is losing her battle against cancer and is in hospice/because Shannon lost her fight after coaching you all last year/because [some other person] is [suffering from something else].”

Now, here’s the irrational part.  I’m not running or swimming to train for any event that is raising funds for any medical research or any other charitable cause. So really, there’s no correlation between an extra lap or any additional mileage and any benefit to those suffering from chronic diseases.  I know this.  And I admit the thought is more than a little crazy. But, for some reason, it’s like I feel that pushing through a workout that I’m not otherwise inclined to do will serve as some sort of silent revenge against all of these terrible diseases that seem to make life incredibly unfair for those who seemingly deserve it the least.

As I stated previously, irrational, right?

Right.

What’s worth fighting for

For about 1.5 years when I lived in Harrisburg, I mentored a group of runners, many of who were first-time marathoners. Whenever one asked me about an ache or pain, I would immediately encourage RICE – rest, ice, compression, elevation. For any runner in our group, the “R” was the worst thing to hear. I heard countless complaints about not being able to run. I would reply with the litany of other options they had available to them during their recovery period, such as cycling and swimming. These options were never met with real enthusiasm. As I listened to more complaints, I would ask myself, “Doesn’t he/she understand? If he/she doesn’t rest, the injury will never heal! It will only get worse. It’s only a few weeks/months, after all. I don’t understand what he/she is thinking.”

Well, now, I understand. You see, a month and a half ago, over Labor Day weekend, my left hip began to hurt. It hurt in a concentrated area adjacent to the bone. I could feel the pain every time I stepped with my left leg. I didn’t think much of it, so I kept running. When it really began to bother me, I took a week of rest, praising myself for recognizing that my body needed some rest to heal and recover. After all, I was following the same advice that I gave my past mentees.

After a week, however, I got antsy. I went back into my old routine of about 25-35 miles a week. The pain persisted, but I didn’t care. I kept running. I tried to relieve some pain through ibuprofen, stretching, ice, and compression.

Two weekends ago, I ran the Hershey Half Marathon. I didn’t think much of the race beforehand. My base mileage typically allows me to run half marathons any time I wish. The race was fine. My time was slower than usual, but I wasn’t too bothered. It had been a great day with perfect weather and a lot of hugs from old friends I hadn’t seen since I moved to DC.

After the race, I sat in an ice bath for 20 minutes and took some ibuprofen to ease any inflammation I thought might crop up in my hip. I vegged out on the couch for an hour. When I rose from the couch to get some laundry done, I realized I had so much pain in my hip that I wasn’t able to climb the stairs. Thankfully, after a few doses of trusty Naproxen, I was moving around just fine.

Last week, I finally decided to see my PCP about the hip pain. After examining me, she said that she thought the pain was a result of an inflamed IT Band near the insertion site at my hip. I was relieved. IT band issues are common in running, and fairly easy to treat with a little bit of rest, stretching, and ice. She wasn’t 100% sure of her diagnosis, though, so she referred me to an orthopedic surgeon.

I had my appointment with the orthopedic surgeon today. After some scans and an exam, he verified that the problem was with my IT Band, but, to my surprise, he mentioned that it wasn’t just inflammation. Over the past 1.5 months, I managed to tear fibers of that muscle and my consistent running was making the situation worse, causing a nice case of bursitis as well. The first recommendation he had for me wasn’t a surprise: the big “R.” During that period of rest from running, he recommended at approximately 2 months of physical therapy and, if that doesn’t work, a cortisone injection.

Now, the mentor in me should’ve agreed to the ~2 months of rest and PT that he recommended. Instead, I blurted out “Now, I promise I won’t be a bad patient, but what if I put off this treatment for a few months?” He, of course, being the experienced orthopedic surgeon he is, asked if I had a race planned. Of course I do – a marathon in January. He pointed out that I’ve already put this off for 1.5 months and that if I continued, I would further inhibit recovery, tear more muscle fibers, and likely have to suffer the consequences of scar tissue that won’t form quite correctly. So, I took the prescription sheets from him and promised to call PT for my 2x/week appointments.

Rather than calling PT, though, I thought about the next few months. Then it hit me, I WON’T BE RUNNING. This will, by far, be the longest stretch of time without running for me in at least 7 years. And, for the first time ever, I won’t be running a marathon that I’ve already registered for.

This hit me hard. I figured out what running actually is to me. It’s not just a hobby. It’s my stress reliever after work. It’s my justification for the occasional cookie I eat when someone brings a tray into the office. It’s what gives me time to myself to think about everything I need to think about. It’s always there for me. Anytime I needed a run, all I needed was a pair of sneakers.

I’m sure that the shock will wear off in a few weeks, and I’m sure that my attitude will improve. But for now, I realize I’ve gotten a taste of what my mentees were feeling when I ordered them to rest and questioned why they weren’t heeding my advice, even if it was for their own good. I know that rest is good for me. My orthopedic surgeon reminded me that, by doing what I need to do now, I can still likely run at 40, 50, 60 years old. Hearing him say this reminded me of a few Green Day lyrics:

“Do you know what’s worth fighting for?
When it’s not worth dying for?”

Now, granted, we’re NOT talking about a case of life and death here. if I keep ignoring this problem, the worst case scenario is permanent damage and a permanent hiatus from running. But it helped me understand that it’s not worth fighting through a few painful months of training for my next marathon when I am well aware of the negative consequences that are bound to come if I do.

So, with that, I’ve started to look for sports clubs and community centers in my neighborhood that have indoor pools so I can swim to my heart’s content for the next few months. Who knows? Maybe this experience will lead me to my first triathlon when this is all over.

Moral hazard, or hope and faith in the government system?

Motivated by a friend’s post on our shared running group site on Facebook that read “out run IRENE!!!!,” I decided to go out for a run before the hurricane hit the DC metro area on Saturday.  It was rainy, windy, and wonderful.  I hadn’t run in the rain for a long time.  By the time I returned to my apartment, my sneakers were soaked and my cap’s brim was dripping.

To take advantage of the somewhat cooler conditions caused by the rain and wind, I decided to run hill repeats.  Doing hill repeats requires me to think about something pretty solid to take my mind off of the pain.  During that session, I thought about the recent market volatility.  Some days, such as the day after S&P downgraded the U.S. to AA+ and the day following Steve Job’s resignation, the market plummeted.  Other days, such as the day when Bernanke referred to tools that the Fed could employ to help the economy during his time in Jackson Hole, stocks rose.  At first, I thought that perhaps this was a sign of investors’ faith in the government and its ability to promote economic stability and recovery.  Then, I began thinking a little more deeply, referencing various articles I’ve read recently and one of my new favorite movies, Too Big To Fail.

I found this image in the WSJ this morning:

The term “moral hazard” was thrown around frequently during and after the financial crisis of 2008.  It refers to risky investment activities with the expectations of government bailout in case of trouble.  The large bailouts of firms like AIG were hotly debated in 2008 and left a bad taste in the mouth of many.

Recalling this, it makes me wonder if the positive movements in the market following Bernanke’s references to further intervention is a sign of faith or moral hazard?  Are investors going to return to risky behavior similar to the investments in unstable mortgage-backed securities during the time of the housing bubble because they think that government will bail out firms deemed “too big to fail?”

Unfortunately, I think so.  Call me pessimisstic, but the truth of the matter is, when the market is up, people feel good.  They think the economy is doing well, even if that means the high indices aren’t built on solid earnings or genuine positive company performance.  With each quantitative easing round, how do we know that the additional money isn’t just artificially inflating asset prices?  And even if it is artificial inflation, who is going to stop it?  Likely not the ones who enjoy big gains as a result.

There’s a good scene in TBTF when Michele Davis (played by Cynthia Nixon) is being briefed by Hank Paulson (played by William Hurt) about the cause of the financial collapse.  After an explanation about the risky MBS investments and AIG’s role in providing insurance to financial firms, Michele Davis asks “What do I tell them when they ask why this wasn’t regulated?”  Paulson replies “No one wanted to. We were making too much money.“

What fills the emptiness?

Sorry for the lack of updates lately.  I had oral surgery to extract my four wisdom teeth a week and a half ago (I know; I’m late on experiencing this wonderful point in life) and the lack of food intake that followed didn’t give me enough energy to walk up the four flights of stairs to my office, let alone go out and run enough to think of a complete thought.  That being said, I still haven’t mustered up the energy to go for a good run, so tonight’s post comes from my thoughts while driving, not running.

While I was listening to an econ lecture tonight, I took a look at my phone and saw a flurry of news alerts come through from the FT and WSJ.  Steve Jobs had resigned from his position as CEO of Apple, presumably because of his health.  While this was certainly seen as a possibility after his serious health history, which included treatment for pancreatic cancer and a liver transplant, and his decision to take a leave from the company in January, this was still quite a shock to the business and technology worlds.

His resignation letter was brief.  It stated that he decided to resign, asked to serve on the board, recommended the COO for the CEO position, and wished the company continued success.  What really sparked my thinking tonight was the first few lines of the letter:

I have always said if there ever came a day when I could no longer meet my duties and expectations as Apple’s CEO, I would be the first to let you know. Unfortunately, that day has come.

I can only assume that being CEO of Apple had been one of Steve Jobs’s primary functions in life.  He put his soul, creativity, and hard work into that company.  He was the public face of Apple and seemed to love it.  Now, he’s realized that he can no longer do it.

I know what it’s like to live and breathe a job.  In two of my past three positions, I literally spent more hours at my office than at home, even counting the time I spent sleeping.  My work was nearly the msot significant part of my life.

So, driving home tonight, I got to wondering–what does one do when one loses that part of his or her life?  What fills that emptiness?  I think it’s a particularly interesting question to ponder when that emptiness is created due to a health problem.

My friend once told me about a previous co-worker of his who was basically asked to leave her position at a company because of her failing health due to a  terminal illness.  Her superiors and colleagues were concerned that she was not spending the time and effort to rest because she was working so much.  After I was told that she left the company, I wondered what her days would be like.  Without a job to go to on a daily basis, did she spend her time sitting at home, wondering how this illness was affecting her?  Without the distraction of her job, how much more time did she take to think about the worst possible outcomes of this illness?  Was it really better for her to sit at home and “rest?”

I found Steve Jobs’s decision to be incredibly unselfish.  How difficult must it have been to give up his position, which was such a significant part of his life?  What will he do on a daily basis now that he doesn’t have this role to fill?  Sure, he will likely be elected to the board, but I doubt those duties will fill his mind and time as the CEO position did, even after his took his leave in January.

Please don’t misunderstand me; I believe that the body needs the opportunity to rest and recover.  However, I wonder what this does to one’s mind and overall well-being.

My best wishes to Steve Jobs.

Alternate outcomes

There’s an inscription on the back of my iPod Shuffle that reads “Find your happy pace.  B+.”  The first portion, “Find your happy pace” was a phrase I “borrowed” from the sample tags on the RoadID website.  “B+” stems from the name of one of my favorite charitable foundations, The B+ Foundation.  It is a wonderful organization that provides emotional and financial support to those with children fighting cancers.  B+ was also the blood type of the organization’s inspiration, Andrew.  He is also one of my personal heroes.

I ran a new route today that took me onto a trail in DC’s Rock Creek Park.  It was 91 degrees this evening, with the usual high humidity that has been gracing this region for the past few weeks.  Upon stepping foot onto the trail in the park, I began a rather challenging ascent through the park that seemed to last one step too long for an extended period of time.  When I find myself in this type of scenario, I try different techniques to get me through.  These techniques include frantically hitting the seek button on my iPod in hopes that a particularly inspirational song will play and repeating mantras (see my first post).  Since I make it a point not to listen to music on new routes for safety reasons, that option was quickly eliminated.  My tried and true mantras failed to do the trick.  When these other methods fail, I resort to imagining.  In particular, I imagine Andrew pushing up the hill and encouraging me to find the peak.  I usually resort to this during long (10+ mile) runs, but hey, when it’s necessary, it’s necessary.

Andrew passed away in 2007 at the age of 14 due to complications from leukemia and sepsis.   As I imagined him helping me with my run today, I also thought about how it would be if he were still alive.  If he had stayed on track with his education, he would be entering his second year of college this month.  I found myself wondering, which college would he have chosen?  Would it have been one that offered a small, close-knit community like the one he enjoyed for a short time at Salesianum?  Would he have been recruited as a college soccer player?  Would he have kept his hair curly and full, a style that matched his personality so well?

My thoughts then drifted to others.  I thought about my college friend, Sarah, who died in a tragic kayaking accident in Cape Cod during fall break in 2003.  What if she and Mary didn’t decide to go out in the fog that day?  What would she have done after completing her degree in psychology?  Would she have pursued graduate school?  She would have certainly excelled in her field; she was so personable and insightful.  Would she have continued to run marathons (at a much faster pace than I)?  Would she have moved back to Bethesda, 20 minutes away from where I live now?

The wondering didn’t stop there.  I thought about Shay.  I sent my Nike women’s marathon finisher’s necklace to Shay months before she passed away after a hard-fought battle against osteosarcoma.  I thought about Alex, the namesake behind Alex’s Lemonade, who passed away 7 years ago.  She began the Alex’s Lemonade project when she was four. If she had survived, would the organization be any different?  Would she still hold annual lemonade stands in her front yard, even with her busy high school schedule?

I realize that this post may come off to be quite depressing.  Yes, there were moments of sadness during my run today, but I realized that, more so, I was reminded of the great things that these individuals did under tremendously difficult conditions.  Above all, I thought about the wonderful contributions they would have made today and the way their short lives positively affected so many others.

“Who can say if I’ve been
Changed for the better?
I do believe I have been
Changed for the better

Because I knew you…
I have been changed for good.” 

-Wicked (2003 Original Broadway Cast)

Who bears the cost?

I consider myself fairly lucky and blessed.

Why?

There are numerous reasons, but the one that begins this post is my job.  I have a great job.  I’m sure I’ll be delving more into the details of my job later, but for now, know that it’s great because I get to pour through newspapers like the Wall Street Journal, the Financial Times, and The Hill on a daily basis.

Without fail, there have been daily articles in the WSJ and FT about the European debt crisis during the past few months.  It hasn’t received as much mainstream press as other stories (ie, amazing golf performances at the US Open, the impending closure of freeway 405, the hype over the newest (and hopefully, last) Harry Potter film), but it’s an incredibly important issue, given the threat of contagion in the global economy.  So, I follow it as best as I can.

Something that has cause a lot of conflict in countries like Greece have been austerity plans.  In short, austerity plans are those that involve significant deficit- and cost-cutting, which often lead to less public services and benefits.  With austerity plans, jobs can be lost, taxes can be increased, fees can be raised, programs can be cut…the list goes on.  Understandably, citizens are not usually big fans of austerity plans.

But what do you do when passing these plans is a requirement for your country to receive funds (bailouts) to avoid default, which can throw not only your country’s economy into a tailspin, but could also spread to other countries’ economies?

Who bears the cost of a country’s economic and financial troubles?

It’s easy for everyone to point figures and say that someone else should pay the price and fix what’s broken.  But, in many cases, such as Greece’s case (and now, Italy and Ireland’s cases), there is a strict time limit to make decisions.  If decisions aren’t made by certain deadlines, unimaginable things could happen.  There’s no time to point fingers.   In Greece’s case, the Parliament passed austerity plans.  It was required of them to receive their installments of bailout funds.

Is it fair?  I don’t know.

Not many of my friends know very much about the European sovereign debt crisis.  I don’t blame them.  They’re busy people and they don’t have the interest I do in macroeconomics.  However, this issue may be coming closer to home soon.

The deadline to raise the debt ceiling, August 2, is quickly approaching and policymakers are having a very difficult time coming to an agreement.  The credit ratings agencies are beginning to think about what might happen if the US begins to default on its debts and misses payments.  Moodys set a warning yesterday that it may lower the US’s rating from its current Aaa rating.  Doing so would lead to very bad consequenes.  I read an opinion piece in the FT this morning about the need for the US to adopt austerity measures to lower its deficit and its leverage ratios.  I can only imagine how people in this country will react to an austerity plan.  Think you saw some crazy protests in Greece?  I don’t think they would be anything like we would see here.

Of course, this is just the opinion of one person.  But I don’t think it can be counted out all together.  But is it fair?  Who bears the cost and who is responsible for lowering this huge deficit?

As I thought about this issue during my run today, I also thought about others who bear the cost of decisions that have previously been made.

For six months, I lived with a family that consisted of two older parents (50+ years old) and twin daughters (less than 1 year old).  One day, I was speaking with the twins’ mother as we were playing with the girls.  I don’t remember how we came to speaking about higher education, but were.  I told her that I was grateful that my parents spent their hard earned income and savings to send me to a private college.  She then looked at both girls and said “sorry, girls, you’re on your own.”  Understandably, this couple had large expenses as parents and homeowners.  They did not think they needed to put together a college fund for their children.

Some time ago, I handled operations for a college.  I covered the areas of enrollment management, which is the umbrella that admission falls under.  I heard parents say things like “oh, we have assets, but we don’t intend to use it for college tuition.  We’re hoping that our son/daughter will earn a scholarship.”  Unfortunately, unless students are deemed independent, their financial aid packages are determined by both their assets and income, as well as their parents’.  So, in the cases, the students’ aid packages may fall short and they won’t be able to afford to attend their desired university or college.

So, the question that came across my mind is, who bears the cost?  Who is responsible for a student’s education opportunities?

I don’t have answers to these questions.  These are just thoughts and questions that go through my mind when I’m battling a hill or trying to push out an extra mile.  Maybe someday, I’ll think of some answers.  But it didn’t happen today.

Here we go, again.

When I was in college, I used to keep a public journal that detailed random things I picked up during my studies and my travels.  I stopped writing in it sometime after graduation, when I landed my first “real world” job as an asset analyst with a small consulting firm.  I ended up working 12+ hour days, 7 days a week and stopped writing.

Every now and then, I re-access this journal and browse.  While I find it interesting to read what I was thinking during significant periods during those years (roughly 2000-2004), I didn’t think it’s appropriate for me to use that space as a medium to continue my writing today.  The way I see it, that journal is a time capsule for those formative years, and I should keep it that way.  Therefore, I’m beginning this blog.

It actually didn’t take me very much time to think of a name for this blog.  “RunThoughtfully” came to mind almost immediately.  Please don’t think that I’m implying that my running form, strategy, training, etc. is thoughtful and well-planned.  That is not the intentional meaning and actually very untrue.  I’m not a very competitive or strategic runner.  I go out, shuffle my feet in a quasi-quick manner for a distance between 1 and 26.2 miles, then go back to what I was doing previously.  I don’t place in races and haven’t achieved a BQ (maybe in a few decades).

The name “RunThoughtfully” actually came to me because I thought this blog might be a good method for me to catalog the thoughts that go through my head during my runs.  Most days, I run alone, so I end up doing a lot of thinking.  Sometimes, I’ll think about work.  Other times, I’ll think about recent news.  I also create to-do lists and think about how I’ve wound up where I am (in life and on the run route).

When I’m struggling with a run, I don’t think about the news, work, or any of the subjects listed above.  Rather, I repeat mantras to myself.  A bit cheesy, I know, but it works.  One of the ones I’ve used lately is “claw the ground.”  I silently repeat it to myself during uphill runs.  This just sound so powerful to me.  A bit mean, as the ground hasn’t done anything bad to me (most of the time) and I’m visualizing clawing it. But anyway, it works.

Something else I repeat to myself is a nugget of knowledge that late Randy Pausch passed on during his last lecture at Carnegie Mellon University: “Brick walls are not there to keep us out.  They’re there to let us prove how badly we want something.”  A lot of runners, particularly marathoners, talk about “hitting the wall” during the race.  It usually describes a time when you believe you physically can’t make it any further.  Overcoming this is key to finishing the race upright and on your own power.  When I reach that point during a training run or race, I think about Randy’s words and realize that the task isn’t impossible; I simply have to put forth effort as if I really want to succeed.  If I don’t put forth the effort, I can’t prove that I actually want it and I certainly can’t blame anyone else.

So there you go.  My first entry in this new blog sphere.  Many others to come.
For now, I’ll sign off, as my lunch break has concluded and I need to get back to work.