Ep 50: Rhabdo is Real (and so is P90X)

“Since the start of the summer, I’ve gotten at least one case of Rhabdo a week,” shared my workout partner and wife, Chelsea, as we were wrapping up our workout. “And most of it is from Crossfit. A lot of patients are half our age.” I’m turning 48 soon, so it was a good reminder to keep hydrated and take it easy, and not bow to the peer pressure that this group-oriented exercise engenders. 

Chelsea’s a doctor of internal medicine at Northern Westchester Hospital, so I’m fortunate to have someone like her at my side to check my pulse as we push ourselves to the limit. Besides my age and her professional insight, with five children in tow, we also know that remaining cognizant of ourselves is crucial to not having to cash in on our term policies all too early. 

“The motivational loud music, the coaching, and the 'subtle' peer goading are designed to help you push pass the pain. However, they also  intrude on our ability to listen to our bodies,” she waxed, as we drove home. “The unforgiving pace of the workout also contributes to the spike in Rhabdo among Crossfitters,” I added. “Most other sports don’t induce such risk, because there are pauses or the pace is even-tempered enough to facilitate endurance.”

Having been inspired by Ahr-nold when I was a young man of 21, his Encyclopedia of Modern Bodybuilding, guided me during my daily 3-4 workouts for a full year. For the only time in my life I actually had a six-pack and I developed muscles I had never seen before (and have never seen since). Five years later I ran the New York City Marathon as one of three guides to a pack of blind Russian runners. With our feet literally on the starting line and 27,000 other runners behind us, we ran across the Verazano Bridge at 6:45 and covered the first 12 miles at that same pace. And we were on pace to cross the finish line in under three hours,  but, ultimately, we averaged only 7:20 because our tethered friends had been training in Siberia and had decided not to drink water for the first half of a slightly humid race. In turn, our comrades had to stop 22 miles in and we walked for half a mile, killing our goal.  Point is, I know pushing the limits, I know going the distance, I know intense training, which is why half my life later, I'm well aware (and concerned) of the real risks of these intense Crossfit workouts.

In addition to my wife’s experience, as soon as I read about Rhabdo when we began Crossfit a couple of weeks ago, I was reminded of a former colleague or ours (she recently left our company) who had Rhabdo as well. She is only 28 and she had relayed the traumatic experience of enduring Rhabdo and the recovery required. It had not occurred to me until we began our own workouts, that this is likely how my friend had been stricken. 

“Recently, a patient came in with Rhabdo at the same time that his wife was going into labor,” relayed Mrs. Doctor. “For three days he had to wheel around an IV to the delivery room because we were pumping in the equivalent of three small water (12 oz) bottles of liquid into him every hour.” Apparently, the kidney malfunction that Rhabdo causes does not allow you to exorcise the breakdown of muscle protein that occurs when you workout and your pee turns brown. Ewww. 

If you’re a layman like me, who does not understand half of what his wife is saying most of the time, trying to read and understand what Rhabdo is via all the medical literature is virtually impossible. Luckily, healthline.combreaks it down for us in simpler terms, “Rhabdomyolysis is breakdown of muscle fibers. Muscle breakdown causes the release of myoglobin into the bloodstream. [Too much] myoglobin can cause kidney damage. Symptoms include dark urine, muscle weakness, and fatigue.”

That’s why it’s vital to always drink water before, after and even during your workouts. The hydration helps your body take out the trash.

“I’ve also gotten two cases of P90X Rhabdo as well. Ever heard of it?” Chelsea asked. I hadn’t, nor had she. P90X, x is for Extreme and according to Wikipedia, “is a commercial home exercise regimen on DVD designed to take 90 days, and consisting of an intense training program (designed for those who are already fit) that uses cross-training and ‘periodization’ and is combined with a nutrition and dietary supplement plan.” Ugh. 

Such programs (or regimens like Crossfit) present a problem in a society like ours that values and promotes get-fit, lose-weight, and get-rich quick schemes. Those who fall prey to them are usually those at the greatest levels of risk and most in danger of serious harm.

So, if you’re anything like me, either on the brink of 50, or stretched and taxed and worn to the max by a sticky web of obligation—accepting that you’re going south on that slippery slope of life and listening to what your body tells you, will allow you to enjoy that steep climb back toward youth and rejuvenation.  In other words, just do it, but just don’t over do it. And at our age you've got to also remember that its often wiser to enjoy the journey, rather than to reach a destination.

In closing, if only for our amusement, I must say that intense workouts like today’s Partner WOD, not only effectively breaks down muscles (so that we may build stronger and bigger ones), but it can also break down communications and relationships. 

Admittedly, Chelsea and I almost got into a fight (how apropos, in a gym) because we were doing our relay reps differently. She started doing them in sets (I do 15, you do 15), where I was doing the relay one at a time (you do 1, I do 1). The latter method allows you focus on form and is more difficult because the minute(my-noot) delay conveys a greater burn. Whereas her way, let’s you get through the workout faster, so that you are more likely to finish it. 

After some tense misunderstanding, nudged by the fact that we are falling behind the others, I cajoled her into doing it my way.  If I have to drink a glass of yucky-icky organic-but-quite-bitter kale each morning, take a baby aspirin each day, and eat an inordinate amount of vegetables, I think it’s only fair that for onceshe follows my lead.

Related

Severe Rhabdomyolysis Associated With a Popular High-Intensity At-Home Exercise Program
(Case report from the Journal of Medical Cases documenting a 23-year-old athlete, who after two sessions of the extreme workout known as the “P90X” developed rhabdomyolyis.)

Ep 49: The Terror of The Toddlers (at a restaurant, in Cold Spring)

Last night, Chelsea and I took the toddlers to the Tots playground in Cold Spring, and then to Whistling Willies for dinner.

All was going quite well until the very end when both our toddlers had to go to the bathroom. 

I should have taken it as an omen, but I dismissed the fact that my sandal strap broke as I got out of the car right before entering the restaurant as merely the inevitable. They were my favorite abused sandals from Walmart in Atlanta that I purchased almost ten years ago, so the time had come.

Anyway, I was wrong. The broken strap was definitely a sign that something else would snap later on.

They were small restrooms, kind of grungy, especially the Men's room, so I thought best that Olivia go with Mama and Milo with me. Of course, neither would have it. Each wanted to go with the other parent. 

Acting quickly I deceived Milo into seeing "the BIG" porcelain urinal. Alas, I could hear Olivia screaming as if her mother was torturing her, so I opened the door and took them both in. Crouching on bare knees to hold Olivia while holding onto a broken sandal with my toes and simultaneously ensuring Milo did not touch anything was a stretch for my multitasking-ass. 

Of course, Olivia did not really have "to go," so I tried to put on a new diaper while she was standing (not easy) and then had to scrunch each kid under my armpit, one at a time, so they could wash their hands - another challenge, especially as each child became impatient and upset and began screaming to demonstrate that they were not happy. 

Now, it was apparently the parent abusing our kids. 

By the time we had emerged, Olivia was a raging mad toddler and she made sure that everyone within the town limits of Cold Spring knew. 

Chelsea asked "Did you pay yet?" Perplexed, I simply nudged Milo to his mother and tried to dig out my wallet as I handed it, more like tossed it, to Chelsea, while I tried to escape with Olivia, so that her screaming tantrum would no longer be amplified by Willes four walls, but rather be complemented by the breeze of the temperate summer evening. 

Once outside, the fresh air seemingly only invigorated Olivia and gave her the oxygen she needed to take her lovely tantrum a pitch higher. 

With my ears ringing I quickly opened the car door and strapped her in her car seat, while hushing her with promises of a big stuffed bird we had in a big box of toys that we had just acquired from Tamsin. 

Still sobbing, with cheeks wet with the frustration that her parents could not meet her needs for whatever mysterious reason, the big bird saved the day. She half-slept on the twenty minute ride home.

Relieved, Chelsea and I ignorantly thought it was over, as we plotted, agreeing to each take a sleeping child up to their beds. 

When Olivia awoke she announced in no clearer terms that our troubles had only begun, and began to scream bloody murder as her mama tried to put on her princess pajamas. 

After seeing that Milo was placated and ecstatically preoccupied with playing with his new noisy monster truck from the hand-over ("here, now it's your turn to clean up the clutter") box, I ran upstairs to see if I could help tame the beast.

Upon opening the bedroom door, Olivia came over to her Papa and placed her weeping head on my shoulder, as I carried her over to the bathtub to rinse off the residual playground sand and dust, and more importantly, to run warm soothing water over her. 

It worked. Yay. We got her dressed, brushed her hair and teeth, while Chelsea did the same for Milo. 

Finally, I rocked Olivia in my arms, while Chelsea laid down next to Milo and we sang the nightly Christmas songs that the kids require as lullabies (Santa, Rudolph, Frosty). 

Within in a minute of the last refrain, both of our little monsters were out cold and we escaped exhausted ourselves, although, well knowing we could not yet go to sleep, because there was much work to be done, even though it was 10 pm on a Sunday night and we could barely keep our eyes open. Ugh. Double-ugh.

Hence, this presentation of a very special Toddlers edition of parenting memes. Parental discretion advised.

Ep 48: I got beat up last night (by my WOD)

I took this screenshot from my Wodify app last night after a grueling work-out that was not for the faint-hearted. I truly felt like I had been beat up after I barely-barely finished. At 24 minutes I still had 10 (ring) pull-ups to do, so I cut the killer Burpees in half and finished the work out. 

Admittedly, 20 minutes later at home I texted my younger sister in California who has been doing Crossfit for two years now -  "I'm still feeling woozy and weak." As bothWendy Yee and my sister have assured me, once you get in the grove, its all well worth the pain. 

At 47, soon to be 48 (i.e. 2 years from 50), I'm willingly taking up the challenge, but we'll have to see how long my dedication lasts. Being out of shape is one challenge, having the time to work out is a much greater one. And although I've been religiously taking my baby aspirin on a daily basis, my workout partner and Dr. spouse still worries about how the stress might ultimately affect me. 

Not to discourage anyone, but she did say that she imagines there might be a high risk of heart attacks, especially among those in their 40s, because the instructors do not seem to be certified as physical therapists or have degrees in physical education or fitness, and therefore don't seem to be fully conscious of individual's limits. When we joined Crossfit Peekskill, there was no health assessment and a minor read on your athletic ability. And by having everyone do the same WOD, you're unduly upping the ante for those at risk for heart failure or Rhabdomyolysis, which causes death of muscle fiber and kidney failure - yikes!

So, fellow Crossfitters although I encourage you to push your limits, I also suggest you have a good idea of what those limits are and to allow yourself to cut back when your body simply says you just can't do it anymore, even if everyone else can. 

As Dr. Richard Besser, chief health and medical editor for ABC News, says in the following story, "No pain, no gain is the worst approach to exercise." Instead, listen to what your body is telling you, lest you want to "fry your kidneys and kill your muscles." Ugh.

Ep 47: Caitlyn Jenner, a lifetime of leadership and personaltransformation

“Bruce, always had to tell a lie. He was always living that lie. Every day he always had a secret, from morning till night. Caitlyn doesn’t have any secrets. Soon as the Vanity Fair cover comes out—I’m free.” Caitlyn Jenner

Sometimes it takes a lot of courage to be different and be your true self, especially if it requires radical personal change.

Coincidentally, authenticity, courage, self-awareness and the ability to adapt or change are all common traits of leaders. (See Building the 21st Century Leader from Entrepreneur)

Caitlyn Jenner is a great example of someone who has embodied these leadership qualities to accomplish much in various roles of her life. From overcoming dyslexia as a child, training herself and self-funding her Olympic aspiration as a part-time insurance salesman to her triumph as a former world-record holder and Olympic gold medal decathlete (one of “the most beloved and celebrated athletes in America” )—to becoming a household name through five decades as an icon, actor, motivational speaker, patron of a reality TV family, and now – a transgender woman.

As the International Business Times aptly puts it, “Decades removed from one of the greatest Olympic performances in history, Jenner’s list of accomplishments plays out more like that of a hyperactive Renaissance man than an athlete stuck in neutral after he realizes the mortality of his superhuman abilities.”

Photo credits: Sports Illustrated, General Mills, Kendall Jenner, People Magazine, Vanity Fair)

However, Jenner’s greatest triumph is perhaps the most recent and most personal of them all. For change becomes difficult when others who are involved do not accept or understand the need to adapt and change, which is why the qualities of a leader become critical when you are trying to accelerate change as a matter of survival, competitive advantage or merely being true to yourself.

Despite the noise caused by the media circus and mass prurient interest (Caitlyn’s twitter account was launched alongside the Vanity Fair cover story publication, within hours there were more than 1.1 million followers, breaking the former record held by President Obama), we can all learn a thing or two from Jenner’s lifetime of leadership and her personal transformation.

Many aspiring members of "minority" or disenfranchised groups (e.g., Latinos, African-Americans, Women, Native Americans, LGBT, Disabled, Vets, etc.) can probably identify with the issues and emotional struggle inherent in toggling between assimilation and being true to your culture and heritage. Practically every group has had to fight for equal rights and recognition, and for many—the struggle continues.

Moreover, there is a tidal wave of attitude change looming, as Millennials take over the workforce and society. According to the U.S. Census Bureau today’s 80 million Millennials (those born between 1980-1999) make up the largest generation in history and now have become the largest share of the American workforce. More importantly, survey after survey finds that their collective perspective and experience concerning identity and cultural differences is radically different than all past generations.

"We found a really profound shift in sexual attitudes and behavior," said lead author Jean Twenge, a professor of psychology at San Diego State University, who recently published a study about Americans' changing views on sexuality based on a survey of nearly 57,000 people between 1972 and 2012. For example, they found that the acceptance of same-sex sexual relations rose from 13 percent in 1990 to 44 percent in 2012. Overall, the study concluded that there is a rise in individualism, with a "cultural system that places more on the needs of the self and less on social rules," stated Twenge.

The Huffington Post likewise concludes that “Millennials are notably likely to look at gender identity and sexual preference as multi-faceted prisms, unwilling to confine themselves to a single checkbox. Hence, Facebook's much-commented-upon new 51 "gender options", including "agender" and "non-binary."

A recent article that has gone “viral” in academic circles about the advent of politics of personal testimony, “in which the feelings of individuals are the primary or even exclusive means through which social issues are understood and discussed,” provides further anecdotal evidence that a monumental change is in motion. The author contends that the power of the single voice can cause a tsunami of reaction, leading many college professors to reexamine their curriculum, lest they risk presenting insensitive material. It won't be long before corporations will need to begin revamping their HR policies to accommodate the new majority. 

Thus, Jenner’s story is a poignant example of how diversity and inclusion is no longer simply a corporate human resource option, but an imperative and a social norm that requires everyone’s participation. Each of us not only needs to be tolerant, accepting, understanding and sensitive to the differences manifest in others, but for those who aspire to be leaders, the ability to discern everyone’s unique abilities, motivate a multi-cultural workforce and  understand the needs of a diverse market is the key to success.

Perhaps, at the advent of Pride month, there is no irony in Jenner’s transformation from representing the epitome of athleticism and manliness, neatly framed  by an iconic orange box—to today’s cover story about a leader and a brave individual  who may very well  become the poster child for a new generation and an inspiration for anyone who simply wants to be “finally free.”

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

I have a dream today, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., 1963

Written by Lorenzo Domínguez

Related:

Caitlyn Jenner Is Finally “Free” on Vanity Fair’s Cover | Vanity Fair Video

The Trans Umbrella: Information that Matters for an Inclusive Campus

(Note: by making the presentation "full screen" and allowing "keyboard controls" you can to take full advantage of the neat features.)

Trans Expert: Every Child Takes a 'Gender Journey' | WNYC Audio Podcast

Being Transgender At Work Can Be Hard, But Made Easier With An Ally | WNPR News

Ep 46: The Return of The Peekskill Commuter, The Encounter with StinkyFeet

Ok, this is my gripe this morning. Yes, I'm letting myself vent for once and seeking a little empathy, although I know the odds are against me: 

Although half the world seemingly loves and eats Chobani Greek yogurt, I really think they should ban it from the morning train ride, because it smells overwhelming like stinky feet to me. 

I know, I know, I probably have that rare mutant gene that allows me to be annoyed by such scents, but am I really alone here? 

Okay, I feel (somewhat) better now.

Ep 45: Groucho and a soliloquy (my fifth stage)

November 20, 2014

Marx once said, "I don't want to belong to any club that will accept people like me as a member..."

As a spring chicken I used to fancy being a rebel, taking such maxims to heart, cultivating an anti-establishment intellect. But as I grow older and purportedly wiser (I’m celebrating my 17th anniversary of my 30th birthday on Saturday, as my pal Chris Sorgie would wryly say) I'll admit that I do use Facebook (in)frequently, if only to feed the need to (re)connect.

Which is why, I must admit that I envy the camaraderie that is harbored by a couple of the more youthful teams in my department. This jolly band of Millennials is seemingly often doing something cheerful together.

Last week, it was taking pictures for something or other (and making a lot of gleeful noise in the hallway) and then going out together for happy hour; today it is another potluck being held right outside my office door in the communal pantry.

I do envy their youthful fraternization. Oddly, my team is never invited. Perhaps, it is not so odd.

We are a motley crew of GenXrs led by a baby boomer. So, perhaps it is merely a reflection of our own weathered temperament, abetted by cynicism, and a lack of enthusiasm and energy.

As an interesting aside, I stepped into the kitchen to get some tea and jokingly commented on the tin trays of food being prepped for the conference room banquet, "Oh wow, what treats have you brought me...?"  A colleague half my age from the social media team alarmingly replied, "It's a turkey potluck. Don't eat it, it’s only for our 'department.'" 

Duly warned, I restrained myself from correcting her, knowing she had erred, as we all do, when taken by surprise and are prodded to suddenly fend off vultures. She had meant division, for I am part of her department.

Nonetheless, I realize that my team has never been considered the warmest group to work with, so being banned from the feast should not surprise me.

However, this does not bode well for my wake, the sandwich generation, especially when you consider that 80 million Millennials are beginning to squeeze us out of jobs and siphoning the income that is being used to support them, our children, and their grandparents.

That all said, at their age, at former jobs, I too reveled and commingled as they do now.  Perhaps than, this is merely a reflection of who I am now, where I am, at the bottom of the inverse bell curve of happiness, the center stage of my fifth age:

...And then, the justice,

In fair round belly, with a good capon lined,

With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,

Full of wise saws, and modern instances,

And so he plays his part.

Albeit the bard’s wisdom is now 412 years old, it still rings quite true.  

This morning I took selfies of my round belly (reminding myself not to place them in the cloud) to inspire my own personal renaissance of regular exercise and austerity, in another desperate attempt to whittle down the remnants of comfort and excess (i.e. a good capon lined) by enduring a month of no carbs and waddling thru the line at the salad bar.

As of late, I am also quite apt to pontificate and wax wise (as I am doing now).

And to ward off the grey that hovers (and grows), I whimsically opted to not comb and gel my hair back today. Rather, the bangs dangle over the cul-de-sac, a nod and a wink to my carefree prep school days.

And so, I play my part.

Ep. 44: Late is not better than never

December 17, 2013

This is too weird. Only a few weeks after the tragic derailment on my line, the Hudson Line, the morning train to Grand Central has become arriving early.

Normally, one might rejoice. However, since it usually arrived slightly late, I could briskly walk down the hill and always have a couple of minutes to decompress before I stepped onto the train and settled into my seat.

Now, the train arrives 1-2 minutes early, rather than late, so that it sits in the station for a couple of minutes, but leaves exactly at 7:30.

Today, I made barely-barely made it. As the tell-tale beep and flashing lights went on, I literally yelled "Hold the train!" to the conductor who had signaled all was clear to shut the doors.

It would have been the third time in less than a week that I missed the train as I was coming down the pedestrian stairs from the bridge that runs above the tracks.

Missing the train would have meant having to wait another twenty-five minutes, putting me into the office almost half an hour later.

So, in my case, three times is not a charm; and it is not better to be late than never.

Usually, I've got a little leverage and no one is watching when I unlock my office door. However, my boss and I are neighbors now. Last Friday, in perfect coordination with my train misses, she moved into the office right next to mine. Alas, she not only does she get in half an hour earlier than I do, but she lives along the same train line as well and has a few kids of her own. Meaning, while I've gained some parental empathy, there's even less room for excuses.

When she took over our team six months ago, she began booking early morning team meetings. Ugh. It gave me just a few minutes to turn on the lights and my computer, check to see what room it was in and grab a pen and pad of paper.

This completely threw off one of my colleagues, Liz Lemon, who for the last two years arrived an hour later. Single and free, and living in the city, she could stay late to finish work, sleep in and then leisurely roll out of bed to walk her dog the next morning. Not any more.

Our old boss was very matter-of-factual and albeit always punctual, each of us had built a hard-earned rapport with her, so that we weren't as self-conscious about our arrival times as we are nowadays.

The old boss came in from Connecticut each day, a two-and-a-half hour commute each way! So although she got up a lot earlier than I, we were at the office almost at the same time. Since she had a train to catch, she also always left earlier than me too. And although her office was right next door to Liz, they had an understanding based on 6 or 7 years of working together.

Starting all over with the new boss has been a bit of a rocky journey. She has a very different approach, which is more hands-off and managerial; as opposed to the old boss who was well-versed in our profession and our procedures.

Nonetheless and allthemore, although it feels like we're beginning to level off of the steep learning curve in the office, I've still got to adjust to this new train schedule. I've simply got to get out of the house a few minutes earlier and let go of my impulse to help with crying babies who need a bottle or their diapers changed. This is particularly true since we just had snow and the temperature has been holding below freezing, which means that although the roads are salted, the sidewalks are often still frozen with thin sheets of ice. I was cruelly reminded last night when I body slammed into the pavement as I was ten feet away from our back door. Luckily, for my neighbors this compelled me to spend the next hour breaking ice and salting the sidewalk.

So apart from the anxiety caused by almost missing the train for the third time and a sore elbow from the fall, at least it was a fairly smooth walk to the station this morning.


(The sidewalks are clean and salted about Dominguez Manor this morning)