Amy Reinink

As of Wednesday, I have three long swims in my Great Chesapeake Bay Bridge Swim training log. Each has been 6,000 meters, and each has been an adventure.

Long swims are so different from long runs. They require some planning in terms of resting and refueling, but not as much as long runs (longtime readers will recall that I often prepared for my long runs like they were rocket launches). And while long runs are adventures in the literal sense, leading to new sights, sounds and experiences during actual travel, long swims are an adventure in sports psychology.

My first long swim was great, in part because I didn’t think about it too much.

My second long swim a couple weeks ago was a struggle. I hadn’t planned a workout, so I just swam a 3,000 straight, then a bunch of 500s and 250s. I lost count. My lane was crowded, and included multiple members of the Duke swim team, apparently on their spring break, and a dude with a bunch of fish tattoos who kept tapping at my feet. Literally. Like it was high-school swim practice, and we were all swimming the same workout, and I was falling behind. In my opinion, open lap-swimming in public pools should work this way: Faster people who want to pass should do so without making the slow person stop (this is not that hard in a pool with long, wide lanes, like Wilson Aquatic Center). Slower people who notice that faster people are at their toes should move out of the way at the wall.

But that’s another story for another blog post. Before my long swim on Wednesday, I planned a workout, 6X1,000 meters, borrowed from Donna at Beating Limitations. I also planned a winning mental strategy. I treated swimming like a long exercise in meditation, and chose a different mantra for each 1,000. My goal was to maintain an even pace for each 1,000, and to maintain my focus mentally. Here’s how it went:

First 1,000 (there were all pull, since I’m still weirdly squeamish about kicking with my new ACL): 17 minutes. Mantra: Stronger every stroke.

Second 1,000: 17 minutes. Mantra: Find peace here.

Third 1,000: 17 minutes. Mantra: “Three Little Birds” by Bob Marley.

Fourth 1,000: 17 minutes. Mantra: Stronger every stroke (again—it’s a good one!)

Fifth and sixth 1,000: 17 minutes. Mantra: “Roman’s Revenge” by Nicki Minaj, which, at that point in time, felt just as calming and meditative as “Three Little Birds.” Whatever works, right?

Being able to nail such an even pace without trying too hard was a major confidence-booster. So was the ability to keep my head in a place that let me finish the swim in a good mental state.

Here’s how the rest of my training week looked:

Sunday: Run 3.8 miles, 36:35

Monday: PT with agility stuff

Tuesday: Run 3.28 miles, 31:47 (avg moving pace 9:30 mm)

Wednesday: LONG SWIM! 6X1,000 meters, pull. 17 minutes per rep.

Thursday: Run 36 minutes. 3.66 miles. Moving pace: 9:46.

FRIDAY: PT

Saturday: Run 5K

The only negative: I kind of forgot to do any other swims. Oops. I’ll be better next week.

Are you training for the Bay Bridge Swim, or another long-distance, open-water race? If so, I’d love to hear other workout ideas for the long swim!

Back in March, I made a list of post-ACL-reconstruction goals to give my recovery and training some structure and purpose. At the time, I totally congratulated myself for creating such a well-rounded list—gone are the days of setting my sights on a single marathon, then literally running myself into the ground to achieve it! My training goals now include milestones in running, swimming, lifting, skiing, and just embracing the boring parts of post-surgery recovery.

And I’ve been knocking lots of those varied goals, which I believe all complement each other, out of the park. I’ve gotten strong enough to cut my physical-therapy appointments to once a week, working out on my own the other days. I’ve started to work on agility training at those appointments, to get my legs and brain ready to hammer the bumps on some ski slope next year. I do leg-press reps at 320 pounds. I’ve been swimming twice a week, often three times. And I’ve staged a sensible running comeback, and am even to the point where I can run non-stop for about 30 minutes.

I had hoped the Silver Spring Earth Day 5K on Saturday would be my “comeback” race, and I feel certain I could cross the finish line with some combination of run-walking. But the race kind of crept up on me. While I’ve come a long way since my first run back  in mid-March, I’m still jogging and run-walking more so than running. This has made me realize something important: There aren’t enough days in the week to accomplish everything I want to, training-wise (we won’t even get into otherwise).

In a perfect world, I’d be swimming three days a week (one of those being a long swim), running three days a week, and doing my whole, two-hour physical therapy workout three days a week. I’d rest one day. Math isn’t my strong suit, but that simply doesn’t add up to the right amount of days, and there are only so many “daily doubles” your body can take per week without getting really wiped out.

I haven’t decided how and where I’ll scale back. My training for the 4.4-mile Great Chesapeake Bay Bridge Swim is pretty bare-bones already, so I really shouldn’t cut back there. And I’m certainly not going to compromise my continued recovery from ACL reconstruction surgery. And I recently signed up for the Bolder Boulder 10K, an iconic Colorado race I never got a chance to run as a University of Colorado student, over Memorial Day weekend. On one hand, I’m incredibly grateful for a life that’s so packed with fun, active stuff. On the other hand: Gaaaah!

I guess what I’m saying is, I don’t know what’s going to give. I know something’s got to. But for now, I’m going with the “let’s just plow ahead and see what naturally drops out” mode.

How do you juggle multiple events in different disciplines, or prioritize your training goals? Let me know by commenting below. Any words of wisdom on the topic would be much appreciated.

When we sign up for races that require months of training and contemplation, the idea of actually covering the given distance can seem so abstract. For example, when I signed up for the Marine Corps Marathon in March 2009, it was difficult to imagine running 20-milers in the sticky summer heat, or feeling the crunch of fall leaves under my feet at the actual race in October.

When I signed up for the 4.4-mile Great Chesapeake Bay Bridge Swim back in November, it was pretty much impossible to wrap my brain around *anything* about it, from the 6,000- or 7,000-meter long swims to the sun on my shoulders while I wait for the start in June. Even after completing two long swims, I was having a hard time imagining the reality of race day. The other day, as I practiced “sighting,” or the act of picking one’s head up from the water to look for the buoys that mark the open-water course, something shifted.

As I lifted my head mid-breath, I remembered that I will also get to use the two spans of the bridge to help me stay on course. Something about that thought triggered this realization: IN SIX WEEKS, I WILL SWIM ACROSS THE CHESAPEAKE BAY, FOLLOWING THE TWO SPANS OF THE CHESAPEAKE BAY BRIDGE.

Is it any wonder I’m a bit extra-motivated to hit the pool this week?

When the going gets tough, the tough get cooking. Go shopping. Get … oh, whatever. During times of stress, I frequently find myself in the kitchen—not only eating frozen cookie dough by the spoonful (what kind of woman trusts herself alone in the house with a huge vat of homemade chocolate-chip cookie dough?), but chopping, slicing, sifting and simmering my way back to sanity.

The downside: Some stressful stuff’s been going down recently. The upside: Stressful stuff led me to two new recipes, which I’m happy to pass along to you. (Stay tuned for photos. This week’s stresses included, but are by no means limited to, the death of my beloved Canon PowerShot S2).

Flaxseed squares – adapted from Weight Watchers magazine

I picked up the idea for butternut-squash-based veggie burgers from Liz Runs D.C.’s terrific recipe. Since I’m a bit obsessed with butternut squash (see black bean-butternut squash chili and other adventures with this wonderful orange veggie), I usually have some pureed from some wintertime farmer’s market trip.

Lots of pureed butternut squash lives in my freezer.

While wolfing down my oatmeal before physical therapy a couple weeks ago, I stumbled upon something that stopped me mid-chew. It wasn’t the McDonald’s Happy Meal that didn’t decay after a year (though that will do the trick, too). It was The Eater’s Agreement, excerpted on the terrific body-image blog, Nourishing the Soul, and it’s had me eating with greater awareness and attention ever since.

As athletes, many of us think we’re exempt from the kind of behaviors that plague dieters—obsessive eating, restrictive eating, mindless eating (and the list goes on). But read this before scarfing down your next post-run meal, and see if you don’t think about your dinner—and your body—a little differently.

I hereby agree, from this day forward, to fully participate in life on earth.  I agree to inhabit the appropriate vehicle for such participation – a body.  As a requisite for the sustaining of that body, and of the life that dwells therein, I agree to be an eater.  This agreement fully binds me for the duration of my stay on earth.

As an eater, I agree to hunger.  I agree to have a body that needs food.  I agree to eat food.  I recognize that as the biological need to eat is fulfilled with greater awareness and efficiency, the benefits of my well-being will increase.  I further acknowledge that ignorance of the eating process may cause undesirable consequences.

Because the essence of my participation in life is one of learning and exploration, I agree to experience uncertainty as an eater.  I recognize there are a great variety of foods to choose from, and I may not know which to eat.  I may have a choice of different nutritional approaches, and not know which to follow.  I may have an assortment of habits, and not know how to manage them.  I recognize that my relationship to food is a learning process, and I will inevitably make mistakes.  Therefore, as an eater, I agree to accept my humanness and learn as I go along.

I acknowledge that as the body changes from infancy to old age, so will the eating process change.  I recognize that my body may call for different foods as the days, seasons, and years progress.  My dietary needs will also shift in accord with changes in my life-style and environment.  I understand that there is no one perfect diet.

I further agree that eating is an activity that joins me with all humanity.  I recognize that to be an eater is to be accountable for the care of the earth and its resources.  I acknowledge that despite our differences, we are all ultimately nourished by the same source.  As such, I agree to share.

I recognize that at its deepest level, eating is an affirmation of life.  Each time I eat, I agree somewhere inside to continue life on earth. I acknowledge that this choice to eat is a fundamental act of love and nourishment, a true celebration of my existence.  As a human being on earth, I agree to be an eater.  I choose life again and again…

From:  Nourishing Wisdom by Marc David
Bell Tower. NY; 1991
Distributed by:  Karin Kratina, PhD, RD, LD/N
www.nourishingconnections.com

Which part of this manifesto rings true? How can you better fulfill this agreement—and more fully participate in life on earth?

I headed to the pool yesterday planning to swim a regular, 3,000-meter workout. I felt pretty tired, but I figured it was the usual mid-day slump—an exhaustion born of sitting at a laptop too long rather than working out too much.

I jumped in, started swimming, and waited for the tension and soreness to wear off, as it usually does after the first 200 meters or so. I stopped after the first 300 to stretch, and thought for the first time: I can always just swim a mile, then go home. This is a little bit like saying, in the middle of a long run: I can turn around at the next light post. You realize you’re gonna make it to the next light post, but the mental trickery helps you get there.

Except yesterday, I never loosened up, and after swimming a 1,650, I got out and headed home.

I’m a good girl when it comes to training: I observe my scheduled off days in an almost religious manner. And I took my scheduled off day on Saturday (see “splash around in ocean” below). But a quick glance at my workout log gave me some insight into yesterday’s exhaustion (again, see below). I hadn’t realized how many double workouts I’d been doing, though it’s funny to think about a light, 30-minute jog as a full workout. Plus, I’ve been swimming a bit more than usual, ahead of the 4.4-mile Great Chesapeake Bay Bridge Swim in June, and my shoulders were feeling especially tired. My body needed the rest, scheduled or not, and I gave it what it needed.

I’ve got my second long swim to tackle sometime this weekend, and I’m hoping yesterday’s rest will pay off with a good, strong swim a couple days from now.

WORKOUT LOG

Monday, April 4: PT (about 1.5 hour of strength training and StairMaster). Add agility exercises to regular PT lineup: The ladder, “around the world.” 120 lb single-leg press. Run 3+ miles!

Tuesday: Swim 3,000 meters. Run/walk: 30-ish minutes of running w/2-minute walk breaks

Wednesday: PT – with agility.

Thursday:Swim 3,000 yards – New Port Richey pool

Friday: PT workout in New Port Richey gym (about 1 hour)

Saturday: Splash around in ocean (i.e., off)

Sunday: Swim 30 minutes in Ocean in Vero Beach

Monday: Swim 3,300 yards in NPR pool (6X50 sprint at end)

Tuesday: Swim 3,000 meters- Wilson (tired!); run/walk at night (~30 minutes of running)

Wednesday: PT

Thursday: WIPED. Swim a 1,650 and go home.

In other news I got a great report at the doctor at my (almost) three-month post-ACL reconstruction appointment on Wednesday. He said the slight swelling I’m still experiencing is normal (“That’s ’cause we drilled into your bone right there,” he said of one part), and said I’m recovering right on schedule. He also gave me a prescription for a derotation brace, which I’ll get fitted for on April 26, and which should go a long way toward my goal of becoming completely bionic.

I spent the past week in Florida, including a 24-hour mini-vacation in Vero Beach, where this was my swimming pool. Open-water swimming never looked so good!

Ever since tearing my ACL Jan. 8, I’ve been chomping at the bit to get back to doing all my favorite stuff—running, skiing and backpacking, which were all temporarily halted post-injury.

My comeback to running after ACL reconstruction surgery in January has been fabulous, and has felt great since the first step. On both Tuesday and Wednesday, I ran about 30 minutes—huge progress!

But recently, I’ve been feeling a different and unexpected emotion when I think about skiing: fear.

It happened while Steve and I were watching a Warren Miller video last week. Usually, we’re all “oohs” and “aahs” as we watch pro skiers tear up crazy-looking terrain. But last weekend, I fell quiet as we watched, and couldn’t stop wondering whether I will ever trust my knee enough to start making aggressive turns again.

I brought up this fear to Ed Lee, my physical therapist, while he was working on my knee on Monday.

Lee played two games in the NFL in 1982 before an ACL tear ended his career. He smiled knowingly when he told me about the first time he ran drills after his own ACL reconstruction. The first time he attempted to cut sideways, he fell. Lee assumed his knee had given out. His coaches told him his foot had never even touched the ground.

How do you get past a fear so great?

He said he worked his way up, starting by cutting sideways at 45-degree angles. Then, one day, he forgot he was afraid to cut at a 90-degree angle, and just did it.

Once he was finished working on my knee, Lee called me out to the gym again, though I’d already finished my regular workout. He laid an agility ladder on the floor, and we ran through some speed and agility drills—the first time I’ve done anything like that since before my injury. He watched as I hopped from side to side and front to back, grinning as I realized that yes, I can actually *do* this stuff. Lee also pulled out a step, and asked Dennis, who I call the “gym boss,” to “show (me) ‘around the world.’ ” Other patients in the gym joined me in laughing out loud at what sounded like some medieval form of torture (as if it should be followed up by: “Dennis, show her the room where we cook the patients into soup.”). Instead, it was another fun drill that involved quickly tapping my foot against the top of the step while moving in a circle around the step.

I haven’t completely exorcised my fear. But a few simple agility exercises helped me realize that by having faith in my training—and myself—I will start the season feeling more strong and confident than ever.

*EDITOR’S NOTE: I will be traveling until April 12, and will be posting sporadically until then.

I swam 6,000 meters on Saturday. With a pull buoy, to spare my new ACL from kicking. That’s roughly 3.7 miles, which means I can currently propel myself through the water using only my arms for longer than I can run.

You may be asking yourself, as I did on Saturday morning: Why, oh why, would I do such a thing? I did it because it’s April, which means I need to get serious about training for the 4.4-mile Great Chesapeake Bay Bridge Swim in June. And 6,000 meters is pretty serious.

I headed to the Wilson Aquatic Center on Saturday intending to swim 5,000 meters. The 4.4-mile swim is roughly equivalent to 7,000 meters, which is the longest training swim I’ll do before the race. But when I got to the pool, I felt a rush of motivation—a rare thing for me when it comes to swimming—and ended up swimming a mega-workout instead. I swam a 4,000 straight (not a typo—4,000 meters in a row, without stopping), then finished with my favorite pyramid set and a cool-down, which took me almost exactly two hours.

I spent a lot of time at Wilson Aquatic Center's pool Saturday.

The amazing thing is, even after skyrocketing from a long swim of 4,000 yards to 6,000 meters, I wasn’t terribly sore when I got out of the pool on Saturday, or when I woke up on Sunday. I was a little extra hungry and kind of tired on Saturday, but nowhere near as trashed as I’d feel after a long run (making me wonder: Is this how those freaks of nature who were actually *built* to run feel after their hard workouts?).

This week, I’m motivated by my success on Saturday, and by the knowledge that if I simply do that a few more times, I should be fine in June.

Also motivating me this week:

More running. Last week, I told my physical therapist about my run-walk comeback plan. He told me it sounded great—but said I could increase the running portion to five minutes at a time, at the very least. He didn’t need to tell me twice, and I ran a total of about 30 minutes on Friday.

More new songs. Cribbed from runner-friends and swimmer-friends:

Roman’s Revenge – Nicki Minaj feat. Eminem

All of the Lights – Kanye West

A response to the “jammies and cookie moment.” Months ago, Katie at Run This Amazing Day summed up perfectly the primal urge I feel when I’m about to jump in the pool for a swim: NO.  WATER IS COLD AND BAD.  GO FIND YOUR JAMMIES AND A COOKIE.

Last week, my runner-friend Jesse—who’s become a temporary swimmer-friend thanks to a marathon-training injury—came up with a response: WANT MARATHON. It works for other long-term goals, too—mine are WANT BAY BRIDGE and WANT RED COAT.

Visions of a red ski-patroller's coat danced through my head mid-swim.

Progress toward my other goals. I’ve been doing leg-press reps at 320 pounds, knocking out lots of modified pull-ups and finding my center of balance by doing stuff like balancing on one leg on the BOSU. I’ve even tried a new, local, in-season fruit or vegetable each week: This week’s post-workout snack was some crazy variety of apple I’ve never even heard of and apple butter from Toigo Orchard, located in Shippensburg, Penn.—right near Whitetail!

My local, in-season snack of the moment.

And finally, Tony Horton. Yeah, the P90X guy. I’m not about to spend a bajillion dollars on his videos. But at the gym last week, while I was killing time while doing planks on the BOSU by reading a story about Horton in Men’s Health, I came across a bit of wisdom that hit home: “The more you dread doing something, the more value it holds for you. So if you hate stretching or intervals, that’s probably because flexibility and speed are your weaknesses.” I got off the BOSU (planks are easy for me) and did lots of sprints at the pool the next day (sprint freestyle is NOT easy for me).

What’s motivating you this week?

Marathon runners love their training plans. Each time I’ve trained to run 26.2 miles (or 13.1, for that matter), I printed out training plans (Hal Higdon the first time, FIRST for the next one), and followed them as close to the letter as possible, with slight tweaks based on aches and pains and major life events.

I’m learning that training for the 4.4-mile Great Chesapeake Bay Bridge Swim is more like training for an ultra marathon—if you need a training plan to tell you what to do, you maybe shouldn’t be attempting the distance. And I really don’t think this is solely a function of me being a lazy swimmer who’s averse to formal swim workouts (which I am). Every time I ask an open-water swimming veteran for advice about how to train for such a race, the veteran’s advice usually starts with an equivocal shrug, then some general advice—never with a specific plan.

One thing I know for sure: I will not feel confident heading into the swim without a few good, long swims under my belt, and I’m slowly working my way up to those. Physically, I know I could probably knock out a cool 6,000 meters this weekend. Mentally and emotionally … well, I’ve managed 4,000 meters, and I’m working my way up from there.

Another thing I know for sure: It’s April 1, which for months has been my “go time” date. As in, “get off your cranky, lazy butt and go to the pool already, because it’s go time.” I’m forcing myself to get to the pool three times per week, and am making one of those swims longer. As in, longer than 3,000 meters, which is my bare minimum distance to make the trip to the pool and post-swim shower worth the trouble.

I’m also going to try to get in a few open-water swims when I’m visiting Florida next week, though I feel pretty comfortable with my ability to handle rough water (literally and figuratively).

Not that this water is rough ...

Of course, my off-days aren’t “off” at all, but merely days when I’m working toward my other goals.

So here’s what a week of training looks like for me at this stage in the game:

Saturday: Run/walk: 37 minutes

Sunday: Off

Monday: PT in a.m. (check out my lineup here, and assume I’ve added weight to all strength exercises), swim 3,000 yards in p.m.

Tuesday: Run-walk between 30 and 40 minutes

Wednesday: PT in a.m., swim 3,500 yards in p.m.

Thursday: Lift (arms, core) 45 minutes, with three 15-minute StairMaster spurts

Friday: PT, swim 3,000 yards

Are you training for the Bay Bridge Swim, or have you trained for an open-water swim? How did you structure your training?