In Which I Inhale Ants (Again)

It's that time of year again. I braved the morning downpour to snip this lovely for my desk. I think I'm addicted to the scent of peony. Can't. stop. sniffing. it.

In other news...I rocked my bike trainer workout Tuesday (after reading Iron Snoopy's inspiring IMKY race report) and then totally bailed on last night's swim. To be honest - I'm not worried about the swim. I love water - and being in water - especially the ocean is what makes me feel most at home. The swim part of the race being in the Intracoastal Waterway is interesting and a totally new experience for me but still...not stressing about the swim. (Yet.) This week, I realized I needed to pick my battles. Letting myself off the hook for a swim workout makes it practically impossible to skimp on any of my other (i.e. bike and run) workouts this week. Which is good. Because I'm stressing pretty hard about being a fast enough cyclist and strong enough runner. Hoolies - the B2B is 6 months from today!! And we have a road race this weekend. A 10K. I've never done a stand alone 10K race before. I've probably only run 10K in about a dozen training runs in my life. Granted, I do have an Oly tri and two half marathons under my belt in addition to those dozen 10K (ish) training runs. Why doesn't that give me more confidence?? Good news is it'll be a PR, right?

We have speedwork on the plan for tonight with upper body lifting and core work for tomorrow. AND Donna found an awesome women's trail running group called Team Sakina that we're going to join tonight! I am super excited about that.

Finally - I'm celebrating the scale numbers! I'm jumping the gun a bit since my monthly weigh in doesn't happen until tomorrow (the 8th) but I don't care. My weekly date with the bathroom scale is on Thursdays and as of this morning I've lost a total of 17.4 pounds (since Jan 8th)!! Woo hoo and YAY ME! (Only 22.6 more to go on or before November 7th - and to keep it all off for the rest of my life.) I feel great; my workouts are strong (well - except for the very, very few that I blow off!); and I'm eating a ton of yummy food. I'm not sure it can get better than this. I love my life. LOVE IT!

TODAY I LOVE: my life (did I mention that?) and peonies!

The Changing Why

Before beginning my training plan on February 23rd for the half iron, I'm supposed to write down three reasons WHY I want to do this triathlon. I did this three weeks ago. It wasn't hard for me to come up with three reasons why. Even factoring in my waffling about whether they meant this particular triathlon or this distance triathlon or what - I had three reasons written down quickly.

1. To push myself further than before
2. To gain the confidence that comes from reaching such a big goal
3. To get healthier and be a part of the community of endurance athletes (Yeah - I did sort of squeak four reasons into three numbers, didn't I? I suck at following instructions sometimes.)
   

What I've noticed is that on any given day since then - I have myriad variations on those three whys. Here are a few:
To see if I can
To have something no one can take away or minimize because I'll always know I did it
To have a focus/anchor for my training season
To get stronger
To get faster
To get leaner
To move through the world intentionally
To race (relatively) locally
To race period
To reach for something other people don't
To meet the people who do reach for it
To learn new skills - technical, mental, physical

Does anyone else have their big WHYs morph on them like that? Does anyone else write down their WHYs to motivate them on days when the training mojo ebbs? (Does it help? Because I have to tell you - on the days when I get in "aw fuck it" mode - I can't imagine my shiny, peppy, hopeful answers to the big WHY helping me do much. I could probably use some growth there, what do you think?) Do you think your WHYs narrow and/or deepen or broaden as you get more experience in this sport? I'm particularly interested in that last one. Does what brought you to triathlon turn out to be what keeps you?


TODAY I LOVE: the big questions

Back When We Were Babies

I found it! This is the picture taken after our very first triathlon workout. (September 1995) After seeing a triathlon in person, Donna and I rushed out and bought the book Triathloning For Ordinary Mortals. We madly copied "key workouts" into our schedules and realized that the next day was a perfect day to start our plan. I don't remember if that first effort was a run or a bike (or a baby brick), but I remember the feeling of accomplishment. We were worn out and damn pleased with ourselves. I love having this picture as a touchstone to remember always the joys of enthusiasm, new challenges, hard work, satisfaction, and partnership.

Random Weekend Thoughts

On having taken a "before" picture this morning:
I'm trying not to wonder what I'll do if there isn't an "after" picture in the next few months. I'm trying very hard to use that photo as motivation to stick to my nutrition/training plan instead of fuel for the fire of my self-loathing. Bleck.

On having a partner who says things like, "I only want to try things that have worked for me before":
She was talking about finding something to soothe her unexpectedly upset tummy, but it cracked me up anyway. She's actually quite adventurous (when her innards aren't rebelling). In fact we've both talked about how we're going to have to find a balance between new tactics and what has worked in order to complete our first half iron distance tri. We know that having a plan and sticking to it is key. We also know we need to learn more about nutrition and experiment with fuel for longer distances. We know we don't want to get burned out in the "off" season, but we have to keep our aerobic base up and improve our skills. I think we're going to get really familiar with the line between confidence-building and discomfort-inducing.

On having learned to make my own sushi:
I've had three meals that were not sushi since last Saturday night when we got a sushi kit. I'm sure I need to branch out a bit, but right now it is meeting my need. I feel totally satisfied after eating. I'm not craving the soda that I gave up last Sunday. I don't feel deprived in any way.

On internalizing the mantra "sometimes training is going to suck":
I've been thinking a lot on this bit of wisdom from my pal Stef. Donna constantly has to reassure me that it's ok for training to be hard. I trust myself to know the difference between the pain that comes from getting hurt and the pain that comes from pushing yourself. But...I get anxious when I push myself. It seems most other triathletes have to be kept from pushing themselves too hard. Not me. I have to keep taking away my own excuses for stopping. I have to learn not to be conservative and settle. I need to build willpower and emotional strength. This year I need to practice pushing through mental obstacles. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna need that toughness come November!

That's enough rambling for now. I'm loving that my Titans won again. I hope the Dolphins play well in Toronto. Can't wait to read those race reports my friends!

Guess What We Just Registered For?!

So excited! So nervous! There is a part of me that cannot believe I've registered for my first half iron distance triathlon on a day that I couldn't possibly run a mile. (I did do my push ups though.) I am sick and my chest feels hollow and yucky, but I have to believe that I have plenty of time to get well and train. Eleven months. That's doable. It damn well better be!

Homecoming Drama

We have fantastic floor to ceiling windows in our living room. They're original to the house which was built in the 50's. They provide great natural light and a wonderful view of the squirrels in the yard. What is not so wonderful about these vintage windows is that when your slightly crazy dog tries to run at top speed through them (thinking they are open), they do not break into tempered, round, safe little bits like modern windows. Oh no. Instead, they crack and shatter and slice your poor puppy's face and paws. Wasabi is somewhat woeful right now but in a few weeks should only have some shaved spots and a Harry Potter scar to show for his misadventures. We're giving him lots of chin scratches, calling him Frankenpuppy, and trying not to think about how much worse it could have been.

In training news - the Madonna concert was incredibly inspiring. I love her music because it speaks to so many places I've been, but more than that. Madonna herself speaks to me. I admire and am inspired by her outspokenness, her ability to reinvent herself, her dedication to what she thinks is important, and last but so not least - her physique. Damn, she is hot! Her arms are chiseled, her thighs sculpted - she is so strong! She is ten years older than I am and in better shape than I have ever been in. Of course I haven't spent the last twenty-five years eating well, working out, and dancing eight hours a day. But I am ready to start now! Well, maybe not the dancing eight hours a day part. I'm thinking maybe 45 minutes a day might be enough to start with. Yes - I am all fired up to add Dance Cardio to the off season workout routine. (Remember the part where I think 50 degrees is too cold to run? Yeah. Clearly I'm gonna have to replace running with something indoors-y if I want to maintain any kind of aerobic base.) I'll let you know how it goes once I master all the moves but until then, you'll be on the money if you imagine the whitest girl you can flailing enthusiastically and arhythmically around her living room. Woo hoo!

And finally - push ups - Week 1 (for the second time): raging success. If I can do push ups when I'm hungover and do them well, then I know I'm going to finish this challenge with flying colors! Yay me!

On The Meaning Of Stronger

We're still putting our training plan together for the half iron goal but overall we want to be stronger. I've been thinking a lot about what being stronger means. Reading about Stef overcoming weather, ridiculous number of flat tires, and being strong throughout her quest to finish Silverman completely inspired me. There are so many facets to developing strength -whether it be mental strength or physical. Practicing patience, consistency, determination and kindness - that is what it's going to take for me to get stronger. I know it's a baby step and it's mostly in the physical realm, but it's a challenge I've been thinking about and talking about for a while. Today Donna and I are starting the 100 Push Up Challenge. (I want arms like Lisa's damnit!!) I'm pretty sure I'll be on week one for a while but I can do push ups three times a week. Yes I can. I hate them. I have resisted this goal. But it keeps sitting there, bugging me. It must be done. And I can do it. (I'll try to remember to post weekly results but feel free to call me on this one!) How many of you have done this challenge all the way through?

Hope Springs Eternal

Thank you for the workout ideas. (If you think of more - send them on in!) I'm getting excited about working out inside again. I used to love going to the gym, but that is so not in the cards (i.e. budget). Besides, right in the privacy of my home, I have this (-->) awesome purple weight bench, a stationary trainer for my bike Vivian, my very own foam roller, a pull up bar, and even a purple zafu for meditation after my stretching routine. What more could a girl want?

Confession: I want this.
It's called The Wave. Not only is it cheesy enough that it could be hawked by Suzanne Somers, but it would be the death of me. Remember how coordinated I am not? And yet... It looks like fun! I would so rock around on that puppy - in the privacy of my own home. (In the days of yore, I had a plain, old boring step that I loved. It helped me get in shape again after my first two kids. I would probably still use it to workout except I wore out the tape and my sons absconded with the step to build one of their many forts and I never got it back.)
Sigh. I am such a gadget girl. There is probably an aspect of looking for the magic bullet in my attraction to new gear and the next hip training device, but there is also a recognition of my need to PLAY. I think especially in the winter when I don't have the pretty flowers to look at as I run, the hills to coast down on a ride, or the refreshment of a cool pool on a hot day - I need training to be fun. I need training toys, not training tools. For now though, I'm loading some great tunes on my iPod and heading out for a run. It's not too gloomy or cold just yet.

Does This Ever Happen To You?

I was a couch potato all weekend. After that great trail run, I sat on my tushie playing video games and watching football. Well, I did get out and vote. (Yay!! Voting is awesome but it only lasts so long.) I didn't train, or exercise, or you know, move around much. I'm struggling to find a training plan or even pattern that's going to work for me now that it's colder, darker, and often gloomy. I'm thinking I need to concentrate on indoor (preferably at home) options. Does anyone have any core workout videos or spinerval recommendations?

Suckage Too Shall Pass

Y'all are the absolute best ever. Grazie, grazie, mille grazie for the hugs, thoughts, and perspective. I think sometimes I have to fully explore the pit before I can start climbing out! We did decide to continue the trip but only after I went through a bazillion scenarios in my mind. Ultimately I realized that everything logistically I can/need to do for my children from home I can do from the road for these two weeks. And I want to be my best self, my truest self through the whole process. That self needs to know my kids are ok first, but that self has also gotten stronger and stronger through triathlon. I'm not going to undercut my training now. Not when I need balance and strength the most! So. We're on the road! We're in Springfield, MO tonight - having crossed the Mississippi and driven through the Mark Twain Nat'l forest. Tomorrow it's on to Albuquerque where Cindy has hooked us up with some ride info.

Quick recap on the weekend and then it's off to have steaks hot off the grill with some friends:
10 miler was more like a 4 miler+a 3 miler+another 3 miler. I had to take walk/water breaks and it just wasn't smooth. BUT it was done. In 94% humidity, I might add. (And humidity + longest run = new and unexpected chafing! What do I have to do - glide up every inch of skin??) On Sunday we had a three hour ride scheduled but we only got 31 miles in. The cue sheet was wrong, there was no turn where it should have been partway up a hill climbing up the plateau, and it was just too hot to be that lost that far out in the boonies. Still. 31 miles. The day after a 10 mile run. Yay us!

I'll post more - with pictures - and catch up on my visiting as soon as I can. Thanks again for the comment love!

More -Versaries, Less Whining

On this very day (twenty-two years ago) I went to Boot Camp. I was the Navy version of Private Benjamin. I don't remember much about the trip to Orlando but I do remember I wore a darling, plaid, sleeveless sundress with a peter pan collar and smart red flats. There are two reasons I remember what I wore. One is that for the next nine weeks I wore prison clothes, aka "dungarees". (Fixating on the last pretty outfit you wore is a completely reasonable response if you are ever forced to wear an ensemble appropriately labeled by a word whose first syllable is "dung". Trust me on this.) The other reason I remember how nice I looked is funny (in retrospect). At the inprocessing facility of the recruit center (at 3 am or whatever ridiculous time it was that I got there), I was waiting for the jerk behind the desk to stop chatting with his buddy and stamp my papers so I could finally find my bunk and get some sleep when said jerk looked over at me and barked, "Don't lean against the bulkhead, dirtbag!" I looked over my shoulder to see whom he could possibly be talking to. There was no one in line behind me. I, in my cute sundress, was being called a dirtbag? I did not like this place, oh no, I did not.

Not so surprisingly to anyone who knows more about military things than I did at the time (which is probably every human over the age of 10), that moment now shines as one of the happier, more pleasant experiences of my nine week stay at NTC, Orlando. It was just that bad. For me. For one of my shipmates - a stellar lass who'd been given the choice between juvie (again) and Boot Camp when she was caught shooting at dogs and stealing cars with gang boys in Buffalo - it was paradise. She could NOT understand why I was whining. "They feed you three times a day. They keep the guys in another building so no one beats on you or sneaks up on you at night. So what if they yell at you? They got nothing on my old man." It stopped me in my tracks to realize that the worst place I'd ever been was the best place she'd ever been. (I still didn't like her but I did spend some time with her, forcing her to learn teaching her how to tie her chukka boots. We'd gotten gigged on two inspections because of her lack of lacing skills. I'd heard she was fixing to get a blanket party and couldn't stand the idea of her being disillusioned about how great Boot Camp was.)

I've been thinking about that today. Because I think about that kind of stuff on -versaries but also because it's a good thing to think about when I get whiny. Not that I don't have "good" reasons for my recent negative emotions. I have. Plenty. But figuring out a way to get through the whiny and into the coping portion of the plan as fast as possible is the goal. And today, when I was already trying to chivvy myself along this path, I was additionally inspired by three strong, amazingly positive women: RBR, Shirley Perly, and IMAble. Thanks peeps! I need all the reminders and examples I can get. Those posts spoke to me, my past spoke to me, my present (in the form of three strong wheel chair athletes smoking me on a run) spoke to me. Maybe it was the layering effect but my whining is over for the nonce. I think it's going to be a great rest of the week!

You Say It Like It's A Bad Thing

It is true that when it comes to triathlon, one or more of the following words could apply to me: obsessive, neurotic, analytic, inquisitive, chatty, intent, focused, distracted, nervous, worried, type A, detailed, and/or peppy. I think it likely that even as I move deeper into this sport, folks will not often be tempted to slap labels on me like easy going, relaxed, calm, serene, or silent. I am what I am. But I'm not alone, right?

I mean other tri folks do over the top things like:

• Watch this video (six times) (not that it helped) before shopping for wetsuits.**
  
• Try this stretch in the pool (not that it helped) before attempting it on land.
• Practice peeling and eating bananas on the bike trainer. (May have helped. At least I didn't fall over which I did when I practiced standing up on the pedals on the trainer.)
• Spend 20 minutes cutting large bloks of jellified something or other (rice syrup??) into finicky little bite size pieces (only to have them re-aggregate themselves in the baggie - grrrrr.)
  

I mean, in a sport where people spray their bodies with PAM, stick band aids on their nipples, pee on themselves (by choice), stuff wet sponges under their hats, and brag about losing toenails - there's room for me, isn't there?

I ask this question semi-seriously. There is an exclusivity to triathlon that I am (perhaps overly) sensitive to. I've written some about this already, but I've been hanging out as a wannabe for a looooong time. I've watched others jump right in as I shuffle along on the sidelines hemming and hawing, wondering how to fit in. Maybe I've been waiting around for an engraved invitation? If so, that invitation has arrived! (Truth be told - it probably arrived a while ago and I was too chicken to open it and read it carefully.) The invitation to the triathlon party has come to me in the form of pros and coaches like Carole Sharpless (check out her blog) and Sally Edwards (check out her book). It has come to me in the form of powerful examples set by extraordinary triathlon women who have jobs, kids, weight issues, years on me, difficult circumstances and fears to face down too (check out my sidebar). Now that I'm reading more carefully, I've even found some fine print down here at the bottom of the invitation. Seems there are men (folks of the male persuasion, guys, y-chromosome laden people!) who are welcoming, encouraging, kind and supportive. (I mean, I've assumed there were other guys as nice as Willie (my first guy blogging buddy) out there, but now I have proof! Check out some of the comments they've left or again with the sidebar. --->)

With that much accessibility, encouragement, advice, and motivation fanning my long sheltered spark for all things triathletic - is it any wonder that I have a real fire inside now? Not at all. What is amazing (and aggravating) to me is that there are still things holding me back (aside from the normal obstacles of hard workouts, eating weird gels instead of food, balancing training with the rest of life, etc.)

Today's obstacle and renewed questions to self about fitting in (and wanting to fit in) come from an accumulation of comments/lines from posts (out in the wider tri-blogoshpere - not right here) that I can't quite get out of my head. (I am not much of an in-your-face kind of gal. I am also not good or comfortable with being quiet about things that bug me. Here I am, on my own blog - floundering around in the middle, taking too long to write a post, talking in circles - really, I'm trying to get there!!) Here's what I need to throw out there today in an effort to help myself past it:

I Hate Hate Language:
Why do phrases like "man up" and "being chicked" persist? (I realize that yes, women do their fair share of guy bashing and yes, the "war of the sexes" isn't going to go away, and also yes, these rank relatively low on the scale measuring misogyny. Still. Why is it necessary? And for a great post touching on exclusion, misogyny, and weight - read Thea's offering.)

Y'all may have realized I'm not the straightest or most conventional girl on the planet. (In case you didn't realize it - here, here, and here are a few flags I could wave if I were much of a flag waver.) What does that have to do with triathlon? Not a whole heck of a lot - which is why, other than mentioning my fantastic support crew in ways pretty much every other athlete I read mentions their loved ones, I don't think it's come up before or will come up often. I bring it up now because I bring my whole, multi-faceted self to triathlon. While I find hate language of any kind repulsive, it's pertinent to say (and explain why) I notice anti-LGBT slights more than most. I will admit to being surprised at the level of homophobia in the tri-world. A few recent examples (had to limit myself to three four):

• An anonymous commenter wrote "That is gay squared with a side of queer" about a tongue-in-cheek post that had nothing to do with anything gender/sexuality oriented. Clearly the words gay and queer were used as if they were synonymous with terrible, bad, sucks, etc. I think that commenter is mean squared with a side of cowardly.
  
• A popular blogger (whom I would like to like in spite of stuff like this) recently said something along the lines of having to give in and wear those gay nose plugs. Gay meaning what exactly? Something negative - un-macho? unfashionable? practical yet unattractive? (I do not pretend to be either an expert on or spokesperson for the entire community but of the gay folks I know - the fashion conscious wouldn't be caught dead wearing nose plugs and the function-oriented wouldn't care what anyone thought if nose plugs happened to work for them. How does that make them any different from the overall spectrum of folks? What does gender/orientation have to do with it?!)
  
• In the comment discussion on a post having to do with weirdo locker room behavior, one commenter "trumped" everyone's stories by saying they had a tranny in their locker room. Even though the transgendered woman's behavior wasn't disturbing or invasive (keeping to herself in a corner as she changed), her mere existence was considered enough to trump in a discussion of weird behaviors. Now, I don't feel especially comfortable with transgendered folks. I know I'm ignorant of some of the ins and outs of their lives/culture and could easily say something unwittingly stupid or hurtful which makes me pretty tongue tied. (What little bit I can even imagine of what it would be like to be transgendered makes my whining about fitting in or feeling excluded sort of pathetic.) But I absolutely don't understand the jump this commenter made.
• In a post about her bad hair day due to humidity, a blogger made the comment that she "looked like a lesbian, but not one of the good kind". WTF? You can tell good lesbians from bad lesbians by their hair? Does frizzy hair make you a "bad kind" of lesbian or is it an intentional code to let others know you're aligned with the dark side of the Force? What on earth is this woman talking about? Seriously, someone enlighten me.
  

I feel slightly disillusioned to have discovered that triathlon is like any other human endeavor - warm-hearted, open-minded, live-and-let-live folks mixed right in with a few narrow, scared, mean-spirited folks. Not that I don't have my own moments of small, fearful snarkiness! Everyone does. My hope, though, is to move through them as quickly as possible: to be defined by brighter moments and aligned with more positive forces in the world - love, inclusion, compassion, diversity, joy, and accountability. (Speaking of positive forces for inclusion and inspiration: Thank you ShirleyPerly for posting the Team Hoyt video at the Endurance Sports Bar for the Grand Opening. I will carry it in my head and heart from now on.)

People (myself included) are free to say whatever they want on their blogs. Other people can choose to read or boycott, agree or disagree with, and lurk or comment on said blogs. Please know that my blog, my way in the world, and what I'll work for in my life and in triathlon - is to make it more inclusive, expansive, and welcoming. I've spent all these words trying to say that I want to accept the kind invitation to the triathlon party - but only if I don't have to come in costume, only if I can show up as myself. I don't need more signatures on the invitation; I don't need to write back and say, "Are you sure you know what you're doing inviting ME?"; I simply need to be brave enough not to hide who I am as I move along.

I'd sure like it if my new blogging buddies continued to visit and comment here even after knowing more about the whole of who I am. I love the discussions. I value the insights and encouragement offered. I truly enjoy getting to know new people - all kinds of people, not just the ones like me. I'd love to keep visiting and commenting on the wonderful blogs I've discovered. I'll try to track it if you stop commenting so I don't continue to bug you with my comments on your blog if you'd prefer I stay the heck away. But I'll be on the starting line as often as I can, wanted or not. Peace.


PS -
**I started to amend the wetsuit video bit by saying that if there weren't a need for it then why would there be a video - but that logic falls apart when you consider that this product is on the market. I see no discernible need for such an item. If you do, then please, for the love of God, do not tell me.

Flowers On Fridays

Are y'all sick of my poetry jag yet? If so, you may have to skip this post and catch up with me on Monday! I'm going to the Eno (that's a river) with my youngest (frog boy from the pictures the other day) for a third grade field trip today. It's got me thinking about how much I love to be outside. I love the lushness of this time of year! I adore plants my mother says are essentially weeds - irises, wisteria, and honeysuckle. One of the nice things about how slowly I move through the world is that I have plenty of time to enjoy the flora and fauna. The honeysuckle in particular has been delightful the last few Saturdays. That light, sweet smell just drenches you as you bike by! I feel sorry for people who live where there is no honeysuckle. If you happen to be one of those people, you must come visit me. Do you even know what you're missing??

I also love old fashioned flowers like hollyhocks and peonies. Have you stuck your face in a peony blossom? Heaven! (Well, except for the ants you might get up your nose if you inhale as deeply as I do.) They bloom around Mother's Day and this year, the first year in our new house in our new state, I discovered peonies blooming in my yard!! I wish I had a scratch n' sniff blog so I could share them with you. Instead - this is as close as I can get.

Peonies
by Mary Oliver

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open ---
pools of lace,
white and pink ---
and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away

to their dark, underground cities ---
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,

the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again ---
beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?

© Mary Oliver

Have a great weekend training and racing (and recovering and spending time with your sweet families and all that good stuff!) I look forward to hearing everyone's reports!

Be Still My Beating Heart Rate Monitor

Tuesday was insanely long. I left home before the children were up and got back after they were in bed. It was wonderful and important and I'd do it again in a heartbeat, but I'm thankful there are (at most!) only a couple of elections a year. I do NOT know how Southbay Girl can stand working those kind of hours day in and day out! Tuesday was also a very social day. I saw dozens of people I knew and of course, I spoke to hundreds and hundreds of people I didn't know - answering questions, giving instructions, etc. That is a huge departure from the tenor of my usual day! As social and loud as it feels when all my kids are home after school, most of my normal days are spent in near silence, writing. Having to be "on" and interact with people was more exhausting than even the long hours. I spent most of yesterday attempting to recover my internal balance.

To that end, I planned to swim then run. I couldn't get all the pieces together though, and missed the lap swim time at the community center. I did run, but with mixed results. I told myself - easy run, even pace, loosen up the legs, take as long as you want. I followed Shirley Perly's advice and wore an older pair of shoes to see if perhaps my changing shoe brands/types a couple of months ago might be contributing to my brand new knee pain. That part of the run was a success. No pain in my knee or hip or anywhere but a little in my shins, which was expected as that used to be my warning sign that it was time for new shoes and I already knew those Saucony's were at that point.

The part of my run that was less successful was the "easy pace" part. My training plan called for Zone 1-2. All well and good when I was using the rate of perceived exertion chart. Zone 1 and 2 meant easy, can breathe freely and talk, feels smooth. I can do that - a little jog down my almost flat trail - 12 min/mile pace - no problemo. Only now I've got my Garmin who informs me that no matter how slowly I run, no matter how much I think I can breathe, no matter how clearly I can talk - my heart rate is not in Zone 1, but rather is in Zone FIVE when I run. Like redlining. Even at 12 min miles on the flat. The lowest I was able to bring it down and still be considered "running" was to a number that put me in the top of Zone 4. I thought I must have my max HR set completely wrong, but after following these instructions, I feel like my estimate of 194 has to be pretty close, if not a little high. I did average several tests together as she suggested and I'll do the same tests again in a couple of weeks to see if there is any inconsistency, but in the meantime....what? I don't know what to do!

When I saw my heart rate was not coming down after I was warmed up, I walked a quarter of a mile. It came down. I felt completely recovered. I started to run again and boom! My hr shot right back up to the top of the zones. I worked on my breathing and relaxing as I ran, wondering if being anxious about it was making it higher. That helped to a point, as my hr didn't spike going up the one hill on the trail like it did the other day, but I couldn't get my hr anywhere near Zone 3 much less Zones 1-2 and still run. Am I in such terrible shape that it isn't possible to do what my training plan calls for?! (I couldn't even stretch later in the day and keep my heart rate in Zones 1 and 2!!) Either I am ridiculously unfit or I am stupid about how this whole HRM crap works.

I already have enough issues about not doing things "right" and about not being "good enough" - who needs more of that?! Yesterday, seriously, I was about ready to throw my Garmin against the wall. Hard. Poor Garmin. And I didn't want to run ever again if I couldn't do it "right". Poor me. I was in a snit and I was taking Garmin (and quite possibly the fucking bike trainer that I couldn't get to work on Monday) with me straight to couch potato hell. Bring on the Cheetos and Lemonheads***!!

TOTAL DIGRESSION:

***Isn't it a bit disturbing how much the Lemonhead logo looks like Dubya? Or vice versa, I suppose, as the Lemonhead guy is older. Lemonheads are about my favorite candy EVAH but I've gotten to where I pour them into a ziploc rather than look at the creepy yellow dude.

ANYWAY, after the worst of the unladylike cursing and stomping around was over, I pulled out the two poems that turn me around every time. (I've attached them to the end of this post and probably should put them in my sidebar or something.) Dozens of Mary Oliver's poems speak to me, but these two...these two stop me in my tracks. They strike true, cut through my pretensions, remind me to reconnect to center, and lure me back into the painful and joyous mystery of living. They work together like a band-aid and neosporin for my scraped psyche when I trip over myself. The words in the middle are fine and wonderful but it's the first line of the first poem that stops my heart, each and every time. And it's the last line of the second poem that gets it going again, each and every time. Correct zones or no, as long as my heart still responds to poetry, I'm in the game. The rest will work itself out. My Garmin is safe. For now.
Peace.

Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

from Dream Work by Mary Oliver
published by Atlantic Monthly Press
© Mary Oliver

The Summer Day by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean -
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down -
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

Vicarious Ironman

On Sunday, I followed along on Ironman live as Pirate Girl tackled IMAZ. I've never met her. I don't know anyone that knows her in real life. I haven't even talked to her online! I've merely lurked on her blog and gotten caught up in her story. Yet, I thought about her doing her swim in the time I did my brick. I had a busy day that involved a play date for my youngest son at the science museum, lunch at Foster's, yardwork, homework including play practice, and supper for eight. She was on her bike that whole time. That brought it home to me. I thought, "Even after she finishes the bike, she still has a marathon to run!" I kept waiting to see her finished bike time. It didn't post. And it didn't post. Oh no. You see, she had attempted IMAZ last year - and missed the bike cutoff time by SIX MINUTES. I watched the cutoff time come and go and still no time posted for her last leg of the bike. I was sooooo sad for her! We all were, because of course I'd been talking to the family about it all day. I kept reworking the math trying to figure out if I'd missed something. AND I HAD! We are three hours ahead of them, not just two. She had another hour. She finished the bike - woo hoo! She was running. I finally had to go to sleep but (you're going to laugh at this) I woke up once and checked on her. She was still running! I was a little worried because it seemed she should have finished that third leg of the run and be in the home stretch, but I didn't trust my math. Do you see how long an Ironman day is?!!! I had gotten up, done my long workout, done all that stuff with my family, written, stayed up late checking in on her, fallen asleep, woken up to check on her - AND SHE WAS STILL GOING!! When I woke up on Monday morning I saw that she'd finished - with 95 degree heat and incredible winds added to the inherent challenge that is Ironman. Pirate Girl is not a twenty something pro. She's a thirty something woman with a job and regular life. And bragging rights now. She is IRON. She is my new hero. Can't wait for her full race report.

Champs!!

Woo Hoo! Lady Vols rule!! Not quite the nail biter that the semi-final was, but good stuff to be sure. Seeing players like Parker, Anosike, and Bobbitt dig down, pull together, and come out on top inspires me. It is also inspiring to see the grace of atheletes like Wiggins play hard, not quite make it, and keep their heads up anyway. Have I mentioned how much I love tournament play?

Rambles Of A Sleep Deprived Cheerleader

I am a sleeper. I almost wasn't. I come from a long line of insomniacs and was well on the way to becoming one myself. Then I went to boot camp. That was enough sleep deprivation to last me a lifetime. To this day, the most needed, restful sleep I've ever had was an hour - face down on concrete - fully loaded with gear in the early morning Florida sun after about 45 hours without a wink. Just in case that wasn't enough to convince my body to hoard rest, a few years later I took a refresher course in sleep deprivation by having a herd of children. I learned that while I could function for years with less sleep, what my body craved for optimum efficiency was nine hours a night, every night.

Now that my children are teenagers (mostly) and heavily into sleeping themselves, I very often get my nine hours. When I don't it's usually my own darn fault - not blameable on evil company commanders or teething misery. After all, no one made me stay up until almost midnight to watch the Lady Vols. And I'm pretty sure Candace Parker and crew did not engineer their nerve-wracking, last (less-than-a) second ONE POINT win over LSU in order to jump start my adrenaline and wreck my chances for sleep. When Nicky Anosike missed and Alexis Hornbuckle rebounded to put it up there for her first score of the whole flipping game, I cheered like a crazy person. Crazy. Person.

I am not an all-sports fan. Baseball, hockey, and NASCAR don't even come close to making it onto my radar. I am truly dedicated to the NFL but only peripherally aware of a couple of other endeavors like college football, tennis finals, and women's basketball. But when I get sucked in, I am totally absorbed. Totally. It took me about two hours to unwind enough to fall asleep last night after the game. (What do you bet it took the Lady Vols longer?) I love the energy of tournament play. Watching all of that practice and dedication unfurl into high-caliber, lay-it-on-the-line performance is inspiring. Motivating. Wrenching when it comes down to fractions of seconds!

My total sack time ended up being less than a third of what I want/need, but if I had to go back in time, I'd do it exactly the same way. I can't guarantee I will still feel that way as I try grind out a 45 minute ride today and struggle to finish writing through a stalled story point, but I think it likely. In addition to still being jazzed about watching such a great game, I've come to realize my experience cheering whole-heartedly for people I don't even know translates into being a better cheerleader for myself. I don't beat myself up saying, "You deserve to be this flipping tired! What were you thinking staying up so late?!" I now say, "Wasn't that fun?! Sure you're tired, but don't you think Shannon Bobbitt was even more tired last night than you are now? She's two inches shorter than you are and guarded a woman almost a foot and a half taller! Did you see her smile? YOU are going to smile that big when you cross the finish line. Go girl!"

Whatever works, right?

What's That Ahead? Ah, The Back of the Pack

If you've checked out my "race" results on the sidebar you'll have noticed that when I say I'm slow, I mean slow in the objective sense - not in the relative "I'm slower than I was when I was an All-American college champion" sense that a lot of people seem to mean. My half marathon "run" time was at a pace slower than I can usually walk. (My pace was just over 15 min/mi.)

I'd have been slow no matter what - but I had a few issues in the two weeks before the race and then, was pretty freaked out during the race by the squillions of spectators. The spectators were awesome - cheering for everyone, positive, encouraging - the best you could imagine. Except it sent my already over-achieving adrenaline system into the stratosphere to have strangers yelling at me. I wasn't prepared to fight my own panic reaction on top of the challenge of just running 13.1 miles. Good lessons! And hey, the bright side is I have an EXCELLENT chance of setting a PR on my next half-marathon. It will still be slow, just not that slow.

That's what I'm about. I'm not particularly competitive with other people. I do like getting better than I used to be. I LOVE being a part of events. I'm all about being on the participant and finisher lists. I love the medals and the t-shirts. I love the social part and will try to rope everyone I know into doing the training/race with me. I'm a share the love kind of gal. So it's a little hard to talk about things that hit me down deep - things that aren't so pretty or polite. It's so hard, in fact, that this here post has sat on my desktop for the better part of the day without getting finished. What I need to say is that the idea of triathlon, running races, training and physical challenges - all of that motivates me. But the PG tri represents more than that for me.

I almost died in Pacific Grove in 1987. (Actually it may have been closer to Salinas.) I thought I was going to die, was sure of it for a few hours. And then I didn't - but wanted to - and couldn't imagine why I hadn't. My shipmates at the time became and have stayed some of my dearest friends. They called me back from hell. The Pacific, mother/monster ocean that she is, absorbed what grief I couldn't suppress or hide. She took me in, shared her darkness and teeming life with me, and then threw me back on shore. Time and again. Until I was strong enough not to need a place to dive deep and scream. She kept me safe - as safe as it was possible for me to be then. I made the journey back out to Monterey a couple of years ago - to face down what haunted me and to make peace and give thanks for what sustained me. I'm past that crux.

That task was a little bit like locating an ancient, unmarked grave; unearthing the pitiful contents; and reverently laying them to rest in hallowed and protected ground. The task ahead of me - the triathlon at Pacific Grove - is more like the next step: commissioning the perfect head stone and finally having a glorious, celebratory wake. [<--I come from an Irish family (redheads by the dozen!); we know how to do that kind of thing.]

I'm sure other races will mean a lot to me. It's a safe bet that I'll always have something to overcome to get myself to the starting line and I sure as hell will have lots to celebrate at any finish line. But this race - this set of starting and finishing lines? They're the ones that mark the completion of that long journey; they're the ones that signify surviving and thriving. It's reclamation time. I'm going to celebrate being on this planet, being connected to fantastic friends, being stronger than I imagined I could be. Slow, but still here! (I seriously doubt anyone else will have a completion time of 21 years, 7 months, two days and four hours.) Back of the pack, but absolutely joyful for being even hindmost of such a fantastic pack. That's me.

Awry

I have two home sick from school today (the 15- and the 9- year old); I have a sweet redbone puppy at the vet's getting her lady parts altered so she'll have no puppies of her own; I have a hair appointment in five minutes; and I'm scared I'll forget to go get the 17-year old from the community college at lunch time today. Somehow in the midst of all this "normal" life, I also need to get in a short run and some writing. A few goals for the day have already fallen by the wayside: e.g. I was supposed to get my resting heart rate first thing. (You wouldn't think it would be such a difficult thing to obtain - but apparently I don't rest. Ever. Or when I do, my transition from rest to mach 2 is instantaneous. I find myself looking back at my bedside table only minutes after my alarm has gone off thinking - dammit! I forgot that sucker AGAIN! By then I've done ten things (fed dogs, woken children, dispensed meds, picked up laundry, etc - and I promise myself to try tomorrow. Lather, rinse, repeat...)

Anyway, this is where the rubber meets the road. It's all well and good to sail through the first two weeks of training, but today's challenge is to stay on the plan when the details conspire against it. I'm always good at the ends of the spectrum - crisis mode alpha or when the sailing's smooth as glass. It's the mediocre, low-level bumps in the road kind of days that have historically suckered me. They sneak in under the radar and don't trigger any of my "get tough" defenses but then they pound the crap out of my best polyanna, sunny day intentions. Not this time. I'm wise to their wiley ways now. I will not get caught up and then give up. I will run today! I will write today!

Crap! I might also miss my hair appointment today. Later dudes.

**7:30 pm Edited to add - I had an enforced rest day. Donna's near pedalectomy Saturday turns out to have injured her neck. I had to pick her up from work early and get her some treatment - while juggling the sick kids, the post-surgery dog, and the other errands (Rx, mom taxi from school for the well children, dinner, etc!) Can't decide if I'm going to do the short run in addition to the swim tomorrow or switch today's planned workout with Friday's scheduled rest. It's early and low volume so I don't think doubling up tomorrow will hurt anything but it's a slippery slope! The first race I ever trained for I missed because of ill-advised doubling up. Hmmmmm. Decisions. Decisions. Any advice?**

What's In A Name

I love that there is an Athena racing category. I think it's FANTASTIC. Maybe it's because I grew up with a grandfather who was a mythology professor, maybe it's from one too many inspiring trips to the Parthenon, or maybe it's just that it's a brilliant idea to use the goddess of justice and intelligence as a role model - but I am completely motivated by that label. I aspire to Athena status. (The weight requirement I've got down pat - it's the racing part that I haven't quite achieved yet!) Maybe if I were a guy, I'd be inspired by the idea of being a good Clydesdale, but I can't quite imagine it (no matter how much Budweiser I drink.) Athena, though, that's what I want to be!! I can do it too - if I keep having rides like today's that feel so great I only remember to stop pedaling because the alarm goes off. Yay for a great bike day (even with sore sit bones at the beginning)!