The Best Supplement for Fast Recovery from Running Injuries and Overtraining

Along my running journey, I've had my fair share of injuries. Back when I was training for my first marathon (when the farthest I had ever run was 5 miles and I was pushing my body to new extremes every week), my knees started flaring up, my calf muscles ached and I experienced regular plantar fasciitis. Looking back, it's a wonder I kept up with the training... I made friends with ice packs and ace bandages, I started rolling around on tennis balls, and I took ibuprofen to ease the pain. More than anything, I just got used to the fact that running was going to be painful.

Fast forward two years, when running is mostly pain-free. Sure, a big part of that is having a better training base by now. I still get a strain or tweak every now and then... For example, my two October marathons left me unable to run for a month and a half. I no longer resort to drugs like ibuprofen to help (especially during runs) because they can be harmful for distance athletes... so what's a runner to do?

I have since found a solution to help speed recovery: a blend of powerful natural anti-inflammatories: turmeric, ginger, yucca root, licorice root, agar and black pepper. Simple, yes, but surprisingly effective.

Sure, you can buy most of these as spices and mix it up into some sort of concoction and drink it up, but that's a lot of trouble... And you better make sure you're getting quality ingredients, because the typical spices you find at your grocery store are not only irradiated (lowering their nutritional quality), but they also may be invisibly moldy and have been sitting around a while. I make sure the herbs I used are fresh and organic, meaning they'll be the most effective for what I need them to do. And I take them in capsules for easy consumption.

If you want to get in on the action, check out Get Back Up. It's the only product of its kind, and you can buy it online right now. It's all-natural, made with organic ingredients, and offers an effective blend of the herbs I mentioned above in easy-to-swallow capsules. It's the product I use personally, and I recommend it to anyone who takes running seriously or who really hates being injured.

Here's my personal protocol: If I ever feel a twinge of pain coming on, I take 2 to 3 capsules after my run (or right away if I'm not running at the time). If it's really bad I'll take another 2 to 3 that evening. It's always best to take them with food—particularly a fat source—because the herbs need to bind to lipids to be used by the body. Usually that squelches whatever injury was beginning to sprout, but if there are still symptoms the next day, I'll continue that protocol until they're gone. If it's a big monster of an injury, I'll take up to 6 capsules in a day.

I've also started preemptively supplementing with these herbs around tough workouts and races. I'll follow the protocol outlined above for the few days leading up to a marathon, or just on the day of a really key workout. And then after a really big effort, I'll take a few capsules. So that's my secret to recovery from running injuries, if you can call it a secret.

I've had great success with this herbal blend, and I've been fine-tuning it over the last several months. Since I've been following the protocol outlined above, I haven't had any injuries that stopped me from running—that's huge for me. I ran my first 50 mile this spring and was back running long the next weekend. It's great stuff.

Check it out!

50 Miles

It sure was a beautiful day, but I kind of wanted to die.

Every so often I like to reflect on my current affairs: "If someone told me a year or two ago that I'd be doing this today, what would I say?" Living in Warsaw and later in Madrid... writing a master's thesis about capital letters... walking around an island in Wales for a week... living at home for a year after getting home from abroad (see?—it's not always glamorous). I have a habit of finding myself in unexpected places.

Me at mile 9. Don't get mistaken by the easy-looking terrain... after this 9-mile loop that all changed.

Here's a peek of the single-track trail. Sure looks nice. It wasn't all this casual, though; most of it was endless hills and turns.

This weekend I had another one of those moments. I was running my first 50-mile race, a distance that not so long ago was truly unfathomable.

The first 30 or so miles were a cakewalk. I guess that's how it is when you have so long to go. My favorite part was this old guy bouncing around and shouting about how wonderful life was and how he felt like a little kid again and I thought that was really cool. I remember wondering to myself if it would ever get difficult—I pictured myself at the finish line remarking at how much easier it was than my first marathon—and then it occurred to me that maybe if it wasn't truly difficult, it wouldn't have been worth it.

And then I got my wish. Around mile 30, my legs started cramping up. First it was just a little spasm on my inner right thigh that eased up with a bit of walking. Then it was the left. A few miles later it was everything. By mile 35 I couldn't really run except for 30-second intervals every few minutes, leaving me to power-walk-slash-hobble for the remainder of the course. And then it got worse: Some parts of the course were so steep that even walking induced cramps, and a few times I was almost immobilized for stretches of a few seconds. And amidst all this my stomach was fighting its own battles, and I felt vaguely like I'd be throwing up in the next hour (though I never did). But I kept going, because I don't know why. It just seemed like the appropriate thing to do.

I carried on. Around mile 49 my legs got a little happier and I was able to run through the finish. I finished in 10:37:56, so I made the 12-hour cutoff and got my awesome belt buckle. Through all the 30s and 40s I felt like such a failure. I had planned on finishing in 9 hours (conservatively!), and somehow I managed to screw it up. But then, once I finished, I felt really good. Like really good.

Me after the finish, still standing

Finisher's belt buckle

To learn from anything, you need to analyze what went wrong. As usual, there were countless challenges  for me in this race.

• It was a hot day, peaking in the high 70s, whereas it'd been in the 40s and lower for weeks (though it did start out beautifully in the 40s and 50s). I guess I should have been taking some salt tablets along the run (I didn't until like mile 35 when an aid station guy suggested it). I think those helped ease up the cramping. 
• It was a tough course, and it was back-loaded: The first 9-mile loop was on easy ski trails, the next 26-mile segment was on rolling single-track, and the final out-and-back had the highest climbs and most treacherous turns of all. 
• Maybe my training was on the minimal side (I had a couple 70-mile weeks, but no run since my February 50k that was over 24 miles). 
• I still haven't mastered ultra-nutrition; I tend to do fasted training runs and I just haven't focused on in-race nutrition enough. 
• I think pacing might have come into play; since the easiest part was at the beginning, I figured I should take it a little faster while still trying to keep a realistic pace given the remaining distance. All said, I started out around 9:30/mile, which was probably simply too fast. By the marathon mark I was around 10:30, and I fell apart shortly thereafter. (Granted, I'm not convinced the cramping was entirely due to speed.) 
• And of course it was my first 50... going up a distance is always something of a crapshoot. 

I distinctly recall promising myself that I'd never do another 50 (or was it that I'd never run, period?), but I'm already planning one for the fall. I really am hopeless, aren't I?

Other Things to Work On:

• Fine-tuning 50-mile nutrition plan
• Figuring out what drop bags are for 

Random:

• I hit the 26.2-mile mark and I felt like I hadn't even gotten started. My watch read 4:40, meaning if that had been a marathon event, it wouldn't nearly have been my worst.
• When 50 miles started to seem like too long a distance for me to go, when those thoughts of dropping out crossed my mind, I told myself that if I kept being such a baby I'd have to run home after the race, which would be another 50 miles. It made the first 50 miles seem a bit easier.
• When my brain got to smart for that little trick, I told myself I'd sign up for the Kettle 100 in a few weeks and that if I couldn't even finish 50 miles then that one would be truly horrible.
• I brought my iPod as an in-case-of-emergency device, but I didn't really need it. For a bit I thought I did, but that only lasted an hour or so. In retrospect, I think that was my lowest point in the race mentally, and I don't think it was in spite of the music, but rather because of it.
• When it got really hard, I focused on thinking of things that I was grateful for. Even in such strange adversity, there's much to be grateful for. That helped a lot.
• It must be easier if you have loved ones crewing for you. I didn't feel like I really needed supplies or anything, but getting to see a familiar face every now and then would have been nice. 

It's now two days after the fact, and I still feel different. This race shook me down to my core. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but I wonder if I'll ever be the same. When you get to the point where you'd honestly deny all the money in the world for the simple chance to just sit down—even for a minute!—you're not so quick to come back from that place.

Welcome to Ultrarunning

Suddenly 26.2 miles doesn't seem all that far to run. What a strange thought. Although I shouldn't pretend I didn't think about throwing in the towel yesterday as early as mile 19...

Still looking pretty chipper. This was in the first 10 miles.

My first 50k was just about as hospitable as my first trail marathon a few weeks ago—terrible, that is. We ran on snow-covered trails (with a layer of ice beneath the snow) as more snow yet continued to fall. (Fortunately it was up to 15 degrees... Just a few days prior we had -15 with bitter winds, so I'm grateful I didn't have to run 6 hours in that!) With every step I took my foot slipped a few inches back, and it was easy to get discouraged. Even so, I somehow convinced myself to carry on. (It wasn't easy. Actually, it was probably the hardest thing I've ever done.) The course consisted of five loops, and with each loop we checked in at the aid station/shelter/finish line. It would have been so easy to just stop... especially when it became clear that each loop was going to take longer than the last.

I finally finished in 6 hours and 15 minutes, coming in 31st of 78 finishers. I was glad to finish, if a bit appalled by my time. But if you take into account that the first-place finisher came in at 4:40 or so, I guess it wasn't all that bad. It also turned out that I was the youngest one there. (There were two 25-year-olds, and everyone else was older.)

What did I learn? (a.k.a. rookie mistakes... You'd think this was my first run ever.)

• Don't do a strenuous back workout two days before a race. My lower back was tired from the start, and I was fantasizing about lying down for pretty much the entire race. (Granted, an easy fantasy to achieve.)
• Don't eat new things on race day. I thought I'd give this herbal vitamin supplement drink thing a try, and I think it really upset my stomach.
• Don't eat too much the day before a race. I was still pretty stuffed the morning of (I woke up before 4 a.m.), but I still wanted to eat breakfast so I shoved some more calories down the gullet. This certainly also contributed to some of the stomach upset I was experiencing.
• Don't eat snow. I was a bit thirsty (or bored?) and there was snow everywhere, so I thought, "Why not?" It was fine the first two or three times, but my gloves quickly froze and my hands got pretty cold. Luckily I had a spare pair in the shelter that I picked up the next time I checked in.
• Cramps aren't always a death knell. My first marathon was sabotaged by debilitating cramping around mile 15, and I've known the cramps every once in a while since then. My legs started cramping up during the 50k, and I was able to assuage them both physically and mentally so that I could keep running. Nice!

What do I still need to learn?

• How much should I eat on the run? When I do marathons, I have a pretty good system. I have a Vespa before I start and around the half marathon mark, I typically eat part of a Clif or similar bar somewhere around the half, and I sometimes eat another small thing around mile 20. But with trail marathons I'm out there so much longer because of the slower pace, and I still haven't nailed how much or when I should be eating. This is something I'm going to focus on in training.
• Mental game. Ultrarunning seems to take an awful long time, and it's clear that I need to work more on the mental aspect. I'm going to start taking more runs without any audio (Typically I listen to podcasts, but I generally do one run a week with nothing. I'm going to do more, longer runs this way.) I'm also going to get back to my daily meditation practice.

All in all, it was so great to once again run farther than I ever had in the past. It's something I hadn't experienced since my first marathon. And I suppose I won't again until the Ice Age 50. It does seem a bit crazy to be planning to run 20 miles more than I just did, especially when I haven't yet recovered and I'm still quite in shambles, but that's just how it goes. A seasoned ultrarunner and new friend who I talked to after the run said it well when he calmly told me, "You're ultra."

A Muddy Welcome to Trail Running

What did I get myself into? About a mile into the race, I noticed a few dozen runners ahead of me, stopped. When I got closer I could see why: There was a stream, about 12 feet wide and a bit over a foot deep, and a row of stepping stones that people were waiting in line to cross single file. The line was long and I worried about losing too much time waiting, so I didn't know what to do. Do I want to get this wet, this early? Whatever—I jumped in, along with another couple of runners, and plodded across.

Soon I was glad I didn't waste time waiting back there, because as the course progressed it became clear that there'd be no way I'd make it through dry and unmuddied anyway. So I ran the next 25 miles with shoes full of water (free refills all day!), and it actually wasn't as bad as I feared. Maybe I was just distracted by all the hills (5800 feet elevation gain), slip-and-slide mud tracks and refreshing streams... The course had a four-mile out-and-back from the start and back to the finish, and a six-mile loop that we ran three times. And with each lap the mud got worse and worse; even by the second time around I wasn't running so much as plodding through muddy puddles (six inches deep for the most part). At least the weather was perfect: forties and overcast.

It was my first trail marathon, and though I'd "trained" on "trails," I was completely unprepared for this. And it sounded like everyone else was, too; even Tecumseh Trail Marathon veterans were taken aback by the conditions of the last-minute course (the traditional, point-to-point course was deemed too treacherous given the recent snowfalls, meltings and refreezes). And not to mention that my training base was a bit lacking; I couldn't run at all in November and half of December because of a calf strain (perhaps a result of my ambitious double-marathon October). Of course, I'm extremely grateful that the race, originally set for December 7, was rescheduled for January 11, because back in December I'm not sure I could have finished it. Even now, with such a sketchy training base, I wasn't sure how it'd go.

And I ran this race in shoes—the first in over a year, because I didn't think huaraches would be the best for icy conditions, especially since I don't have any good toe socks. And even though I didn't anticipate the mud, I don't think the model I have would have performed well in such conditions either... so, though my feet were cramped up and sad the whole time, I guess shoes were the best choice I could have made with what I had.

But I surprised myself: My energy was pretty even the whole time, at least until mile 22 or 23 when I had to take a walking break to bring in a strong finish, and nothing cramped up or hurt. And there was another surprise for me at the end: I placed third in my age group and got a nice little plaque.

So, it was a really nice day! First trail marathon and first time placing in my division. Hopefully this is the start of many more of both. Oh, and this (Indiana) marks the sixth state I've run a marathon in. On my way to 50 (plus D.C.).

Up next on the docket I've got: My first 50k on February 1, another 50k at the end of March, and the Ice Age 50 Mile on May 10.

Zen Meditation and Running

I came to Zen meditation in my search for a way to improve productivity and forestall depression at a difficult time in my life. It helped me tremendously in both those regards, and it had another effect that I hadn't anticipated: Zen practice helped my running.

How can this be? Zen is not just about sitting and meditating; seated meditation is the core practice, but the lessons learned during meditation extend to all aspects of life. In short, it's about being present and giving yourself fully to what you're doing at every moment. With Zen you learn to control your mind (consciously thinking, rather than letting thoughts simply occur wildly) and enjoy every moment. When it comes to running, Zen practice has improved my breathing, my mental strength and my joy.

Breathing

When we sit in meditation, we breathe, and the focus is on the breath. This is because we are always breathing, and by focusing on our breath we necessarily focus on the present moment; we clear our minds of past and future worries.

Obviously, breath is vital to running. We bring energy to our cells and dispel waste through our breath. Despite its importance, runners seem to rarely focus on their breath, let alone consciously modulate it.

Zen teaches you to notice your breath throughout your life, which also includes running. And when you focus on your breath during running, you can modulate your perceived effort, heart rate and outlook. I've written about this with regard to my PR marathon performance in October.

Mental Strength

Meditation is not easy. When you first sit—even if you're an experienced practitioner—it can be difficult to quiet the mental chatter. It takes continual effort to maintain focus—it's a workout for your mind. With practice, it becomes easier, and the improved mental strength from meditation extends to other aspects of life: running, for example.

When I tell people I run long distances, often the first thing they say is how they could never do that because they get too bored when they run. I think this type of boredom comes from distracting yourself from the act at hand (running) by thinking of all the things you could or should be doing instead. No wonder running would seem boring if you teach yourself to disconnect when you're doing it!

Zen meditation helps in this regard because engaging with the present moment is at the core of Zen practice. If you practice Zen as a runner, you may find that you no longer need music to keep you occupied, and that you can focus more on the phenomenon of your body clipping through space. Oh, and you'll likely find that you enjoy it more, which brings me to my next point.

Joy

Why do we run? Especially in the 80's and 90's, but even today to a large extent, people ran to control their weight. But it's clear today that "chronic cardio" is not the most effective form of exercise for weight management—it may even be extremely hazardous. Still, distance running is growing in popularity. There are many reasons for this; for example, completing a marathon is a tremendous feat, and it's a bucket list item for many. But I think the people who continue to run (and progress to longer and longer distances) do it because the activity is joyous. There's the mythical "runner's high" that we often talk about, beautiful scenery, the company of other runners, the opportunity for self-experimentation, and the joy that accompanies outdoing your previous best.

I've found that Zen meditation has enhanced the joy I get out of every activity in my life, because it helped me find joy in what for many people is the missing link: the joy of the physical act of running—besides all that other stuff. Sure, trees and trails are beautiful and it's fun to buy new gadgets, but if you can extract joy from the motion of your own body, everything else becomes far secondary. (With the added benefit that you don't need all those kajiggers to be a happy runner.)

Don't Take My Word for It

Feel free to try Zen for yourself. Here is an introduction to Zen, which answers questions like, "Isn't Zen a religion, and if I already have a religion, can I practice?" You should also check out the Victoria Zen Center (Zenwest), which offers a wonderful, free online course in Zen practice. Fair warning, though: As I mentioned before, it isn't easy. Moreover, you'll likely only see effects with consistent practice, so I recommend committing to daily Zen practice for a month or so before judging whether it's for you or not.

You may also be interested in the book Running with the Mind of Meditation, which offers an introduction to meditation from a runner's perspective and offers numerous mind exercises to improve your running experience.

Marine Corps Marathon

On the way to the starting line on October 27, we drove past two cars that had been in an accident. Everyone seemed fine, but they probably wouldn't make it to the marathon. At that point, part of me wished that we'd get in an accident so I wouldn't have to run the marathon either...

We parked in Crystal City, hopped on the shuttle to the Runners Village and before I knew it I was at the starting line. No turning back now. Not long after the largest flag ever to be carried by a parachuter landed in front of me, I was off.

The first mile was dubious. My right calf had been tight, and my whole week of running prior to the marathon had been a train wreck. Perhaps running 54 miles the week before that (and only the second week after my previous marathon) was a bit too much. In any case, I slathered my leg in magnesium, swallowed loads of collagen, grounded myself as much as possible, ingested plenty of yucca root and turmeric and wore a new pair of 2XU calf compression sleeves that I bought at the expo. I wasn't sure if I'd actually be able to finish the marathon—I was really worried—but I figured I'd do everything I could to set myself up for success given the circumstances. My leg felt a lot better by Sunday morning, but I still wasn't at 100 percent, and that became painfully evident in the first minutes of the race. I took it slow—not that I had a choice; the field was massive and it seemed everyone started too far up for what they actually planned on running.

Soon my calf loosened up and I was okay to go. I buzzed forward, part of me unrealistically hoping to get a 3:35 PR, so I attempted to stay on pace for that. I did pretty well, hitting the half at 1:50:21, and I kept speeding up all the way to the 35K mark. But then I started getting reeeeeeally tired. I fought the urge to take a walking break, knowing that would further kill my time, so I trudged on.

After mile 20 things got pretty bleak. My last marathon had been such a breeze that maybe I forgot how tough running a marathon could be. Nonetheless, I was determined that I would run the whole way and somehow make it through. In the end, I did take a 30-second walking break around mile 25, but that allowed me to gather the energy and courage to make it through the final stretch. The Marines hilariously put a steep hill at 26.1, and finishing felt like an incredible achievement.

My final time was 3:51:21. Not a PR, but that's still over 20 minutes faster than my pre-October PR, and considering I'd run another marathon just three weeks before, I was pretty satisfied. Moreover, I knew I gave the race my fullest effort, and I had nothing to be ashamed of.

The marathon itself was one of the best. The course was beautiful, gliding through countless sights and neighborhoods of DC and northeast Virginia. There were just enough hills to keep it interesting but not so many that they were grueling. The best part, though, was the patriotism that pervaded the day, and the inspirational other runners. Marines manned all the aid stations, marathoners ran for their fallen loved ones, a number of people ran with American flags, and there were many people running on Team Hoyt—runners who pushed handicapped loved ones in wheelchairs or strollers through the entire course.

Afterwards I was exhausted. I had planned to meet my family at the meet-up area, but I couldn't make it that far (it was positioned devilishly far from the finish line), so I plopped down next to a stand giving away watermelon. The next day I could barely walk—it had been a long time since I experienced that!—and it took a few days for me to be able to walk normally. Now, almost a week later, I still have some lingering tension in my right calf. I tried going for a run yesterday but only made it a mile... I'm going to nurture this calf a bit more to make sure I get it back up to snuff before I start pounding on it again.

My next marathon will be the Tecumseh Trail Marathon in Indiana on December 7. I'm looking forward to the smallest marathon I've ever run, as well as my first trail race! Should be a blast.

Perfect Day at the Lakefront Marathon and Tips for Performance Improvement

To follow up my half-marathon PR last week, I shattered my previous marathon PR today at the Milwaukee Lakefront Marathon. Oh, and I finally got to check off an official Wisconsin marathon on my list, since Green Bay in 2012 got canceled on me. Today was the consummation of my most intensive training cycle to date, and it proved the effectiveness of some lifestyle strategies I've picked up along the way.

Even I was surprised by my performance today. If a marathon could ever be called "easy," it'd be the one I ran today. I put in a solid effort (though there was a hint of "I don't belong way up here" along the way), but I kept smiling and never had to breathe hard. More surprisingly, I never even took a walking break. My form never slipped. I didn't even feel like I was tired until after mile 23, and by then I was already unstoppable. I didn't cramp up like I had out of the blue in other marathons. It was, by many measures, perfect. The only problem was that my dad missed seeing me because I zoomed through the course too fast.

On race day I woke up around 4:30 and had a Bulletproof Coffee, along with half a pancake, a bunch of salt and a Raw Revolution bar. An hour before the race started, I took a Vespa CV-25. Later I took a Vespa Ultra-Concentrate around mile 12 and most of a Clif Mojo bar shortly afterward (it was hard as a rock and tasted like garbage so I didn't feel like finishing it). Then I had half a gel around mile 20. Throughout the race I drank 20 ounces of water, which I had in a handheld water bottle. I didn't eat anything else, and I didn't stop at any aid stations (though I did grab a cup of water once, from which I took a gulp without stopping). I felt great the entire time, except for a brief bout of stomach cramping around mile 22.

To give numbers, I finished today in 3 hours and 45 minutes. That's 28 minutes faster than my previous PR, 59 minutes faster than my previous marathon in April, and 1 hour and 18 minutes, faster than my first marathon. And here I had been wondering if I'd ever manage to break 4 hours...

Obviously such an improvement in performance begs the question: How'd I get here?

It's been a long journey. Over the past year, I've adjusted to eating a high-fat diet, so my body is now used to metabolizing fat as fuel during endurance exercise. But that didn't help me much in my April marathon, because there was something else: I'd gotten injured in November and again in January, and I didn't run sufficiently for several months. My training needed help.

I turned to Zach Bitter for coaching, and it's been fantastic. He's had me running more miles than ever before—I got up to 54 miles during my peak week—and he smartly incorporates speed workouts, long runs, easy runs and recovery runs. My training has been intense on paper, but I've looked forward to hitting the trails or pavement each day—it's continued to be hugely enjoyable. Not only that, but this is the first training cycle that I haven't gotten injured in. Not even a little bit. No need for ice, no need for ibuprofen—it's been wonderful.

With my training sorted out, I incorporated some other secrets that I'll share with you:

• Nightly ZMA supplementation. The magnesium helps with recovery (and sleep!) and the zinc shores up my testosterone level (important for performance in all aspects of life). It also gives me really fun dreams. 
• Magnesium oil self-massage after tough workouts. Same idea as epsom salt baths, but way better. For more information, see this post on Ben Greenfield's site.
• Lots of Omega-3 fatty acids. Grass-fed butter, high-quality meat, fish oil capsules, actual fish and chia seeds are all great sources of omega-3's. 
• Breathing practice. Normally when running I take 4 steps with each inhalation and 4 steps with each exhalation. I typically only breathe through my nose (it took a lot of practice to achieve this). I've found I can modulate perceived effort through my breath: If I breath slower and through my nose, my heart rate slows and the run feels easier. When I want to really fly, I take fewer steps per breath and/or begin exhaling (and later inhaling) through my mouth. I first started thinking about my breath after reading this post on No Meat Athlete.
• Fasted training runs. I do several of my runs each week in a fasted state—long runs too. This way, when I actually fuel up before a run, it's like I'm overclocking my body. It's incredible.
• Mobility work. A few months ago I purchased Kelly Starrett's book Becoming a Supple Leopard, and I've been incorporating mobility work in my daily routine. I've been sitting on the ground as much as possible and using a standing desk to work every now and then. 
• Meditation. I started learning about Zen (the Victoria Zen Center offers a free online introductory course) and practicing seated Zen meditation every day (as well as working to be more present in all I do), and I believe this mental strengthening has contributed to me as a runner. For a complementary, but different, form of meditation, I've also been reading the acclaimed Running with the Mind of Meditation and incorporating some of these exercises into my running. Most recently I've started doing Vishen Lakhiani's brilliant 6-phase meditation each morning.
• Grounding. If you haven't read much about grounding (also called "earthing"), it probably sounds ridiculous, but I'm convinced it works. The most irrefutable proof, in my opinion, is its ability to erase jet lag in minutes. Grounding is a natural anti-inflammatory, and it's also an indispensable part of my life as an athlete. I sleep grounded every night, and I take care to spend as much time grounded throughout the day as possible. Read more about grounding here.
• Other supplements I take regularly (some I take every day, some I cycle every now and then):
• Collagen from a pastured, grass-fed source
• Glutathione
• Extreme Endurance
• Vitamineral Green (super greens powder)
• Vitamineral Earth (root/bark powder)
• Vitamin D

I'm really excited about how things are going, and I can't wait for my next marathon... in Washington, D.C., in three weeks: the Marine Corps Marathon!