It's a rainy night in Phoenix. Let me repeat that. It's a rainy night in Phoenix. One of the 40-50 days a year that happens. I've opened the windows to let the rain smell in, but can't bring myself to turn off ESPN to listen to the rain. Kansas is getting beat and that's must-see-tv.
It's been a busy week with two nights of post-work functions, but I've managed to stay pretty spot-on my training schedule. Strength training was Monday. That became a rest day. I hate working out on Mondays. I worked hard over the weekend, so I felt ok about taking it off. The issue with that is when Tuesday rolls around, I can't get out of bed. I hit snooze 10 times and at the last minute, popped up and managed a 3.5 mile run around my house.
I couldn't muster the strength to get up this morning either, so I did an evening spin class (post-work workout...BLAH!). New instructor with a British accent. It was....ok. He played some random music (I swear there was some Rick Astley in there)...lots of techno. Made the most of it...a lot of hill climbing to some techno beats.
Sidenote: Andrea has been out of town for two weeks. Normally she works from home so the dogs come and go as they please throughout the day. You know about Hannah, but my Italian Greyhound Venus is 11. She has a nervous stomach, is scared of the baby gates that confine her in select spaces around the house, so when Andrea is gone and she doesn't have human interaction all day, it devastates her. She doesn't think she's a dog.
When I arrived home after my workout, Hannah met me at the door. They had escaped. This means Venus had been running free all day, dropping her "nervousness" all over the house. And Hannah is no angel. She decided to park it on the guest bedroom bed. The comforter has a nice furry Hannah-hair cover now for anyone who wants to come visit.
Back to the workouts... Here's the question. When you're running on a trail and meet fellow runners, do you wave? I've struggled with this, particularly since moving West. In the Midwest, you wave when you meet someone on the highway in your car. You wave at school crossing guards, old people, the guy putting up grocery carts as you exit the parking lot...everyone. It's a little different here. Lost of East Coast mind-your-own-business transplants.
So there I was on Saturday, running my 3 miles on the Bridal Trail up Central in downtown Phoenix. I met different runners who were practically staring me down, begging for the wave. There were others who seemed to avert my eyes. They didn't want to be bothered with "the wave." But then there are those instances when I would look up (I stare at my feet when I run) and wave, but the runner who was moving towards me was looking away or down and right after I waved, she would look up and seemed to expect a wave, even though I just did. A double wave! It's quite a dilemma. Plus, let's just be real, I need to conserve my energy. I can't be double waving all the time! Maybe I'll get a t-shirt made for my days on the trail that says something like, "Hi Fellow Runner!" with a big hand like the one Chef Boyardee boxes. I think that thing just has four fingers though. It sort of creeps me out.
Tomorrow morning I've got a run and a swim on the agenda. Morning is the only option because I'm off to the ASU vs. Oregon women's basketball game tomorrow night. Love Charli and the Devils, but looking forward to seeing Coach Paul Westhead leading the Oregon Ducks. They are putting 80-90 points a game on the board...like anyone is surprised about that. He's not the Guru of Go for nothing.
My workout plan is to really get after it the next few days because next Thursday, I'm headed home to Missouri to see the family. Late Christmas/Mom & Grandma's birthdays. That poses two problems for my training regimen. Cold and great food. My plan is to build up a little reserve so I can cheat a little on the diet and maybe skip a day on the workouts. I mean, it would hurt my mom's feelings if I didn't eat her enchiladas or her French toast and my grandma would be crushed if I left any fried chicken or mashed potatoes on my plate. Who am I to hurt their feelings?
Kansas is going to pull this one out. Dammit.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Week One Down
1-8-10
I know all of you have been waiting on pins and needles* to find out if I made it to the gym on Thursday and Friday. The answer is...YES. Truth be told, I did think about this blog when my alarm sounded at 5:15 a.m. What would I tell you? How would I explain not making it to the gym? Maybe I would say I was feeling a little under the weather? Or I would just do one of those evening workouts and it would make for amusing material. Yes, all of those things went through my mind from alarm to snooze to alarm...exactly nine minutes.
Alas, I sat up, drug myself to the kitchen and inhaled that first cup of coffee. When I was a kid, I never understood why that first cup of coffee seemed to mean the difference in life and death. NOW I DO.
Today's schedule was a little easier than Thursday. Today was just a quick spin class. Fifty minutes of climbing up what felt like Mt. Everest. "Stand up, add resistance to your wheel, sit down, stand up, add resistance, sit down..." This particular spin instructor works on a scale of 1-10, starts at a 7 and tells us to add at least 6 full turns to our resistance during the course of a song. Huh? Math must not have been his strong subject.
Thursday was a little tougher because it was a brick day, which basically means you've got to do two of the three components of a triathlon. In this case, it was running and swimming. 25 minutes on the treadmill to start things off followed by 25 minutes in the pool. The run was fine. The YMCA has some nice little screens on the treadmills, so I got caught up on some SportsCenter (like I'm ever behind) and jammed to a new playlist.
Isn't it funny how something like a new playlist adds pep to your step? Even old songs that you hadn't thought about in months, when added to that new playlist in a certain order, really makes me go. "Real Good Man" by Tim McGraw,"Pick-Up Man" by Joe Diffie, "Skin Deep" by Melissa Etheridge...three old ones that made their way into my "2010 kick-off" list.
On to the swim. The YMCA has a small pool. 25m long with about 5 lanes and LOADS of chlorine. That will be my perfume for the next four months. Better that than kid urine.
What you need to know is that I love to swim. I grew up on Table Rock Lake, took every swim lesson available and was even a member of the Monett Summer Youth Swim Team for a few years (backstroke was my speciality...long arms.) Going into the first triathlon last Spring, I wasn't concerned about the swim. I thought I would be pretty strong. I did all the training and felt comfortable. The 800m portion of the race was in Tempe Town Lake, a man-made body of water that slices thru Tempe. There are rumors about dead bodies and dead fish and other disgusting things in the lake, but nevermind any of that. I'm a country girl! I can handle it. WRONG. I started swimming and got claustrophobic. All the splashing by other swimmers freaked me out, I couldn't see (my $4 goggles from Target might have played a part) and the stroke count I had planned on - four strokes and a breath, four strokes and a breath - was out the window. Survival was the name of the game.
But folks, I consider myself a gamer. I put my head down and forged ahead. I talked myself out of the anxiety and next thing I knew, I was cruising. Seriously, I thought I had bolted to the lead Dara Torres style. How wrong I was. I stopped to gather myself for a moment and realize I was going sideways. "Running east to west instead of north and south" to put it in football terms. By this time, the 40+ age group (we started in waves based on age) was hot on my tail. To save face, I channeled Flipper and pushed really hard to wrap up the swim, but it took a lot out of me for sure.
Moral of the story, I'm going to be better prepared this time. Even if I have to swim with my eyes closed during open lap swim at the Y, I will shave some minutes off my swim time. (Next blog: The story of the little old people who hog the swim lanes.) The next race is in the Sea of Cortez - salt water - and I was reminded today that I would be more buoyant. Hey, I'll take every advantage I can get.
On the agenda for the weekend is a run tomorrow and a bike/swim on Sunday. Maybe I'll take some photos of my excursions (All workouts are outside this weekend. Midwestern friends, it's going to be 71 and sunny all weekend. Not to rub it in or anything). As for tonight...an ice cold brew (Or 3. Or 4.) and the fire pit. It's light beer. Still within the training guidelines.
*What does that mean and where did it come from? I visualize someone literally sitting on pins and sharp pine needles, waiting for something to happen, rocking back and forth, back and forth, to keep the pain from settling in one spot. PTL for Wikipedia... "Paresthesia is the sensation of tingling, pricking or numbness of a person's skin with no apparent long-term effect. It is generally known as the feeling of "pins and needles" or of a limb falling asleep..." And you thought you wouldn't learn anything from this blog...
I know all of you have been waiting on pins and needles* to find out if I made it to the gym on Thursday and Friday. The answer is...YES. Truth be told, I did think about this blog when my alarm sounded at 5:15 a.m. What would I tell you? How would I explain not making it to the gym? Maybe I would say I was feeling a little under the weather? Or I would just do one of those evening workouts and it would make for amusing material. Yes, all of those things went through my mind from alarm to snooze to alarm...exactly nine minutes.
Alas, I sat up, drug myself to the kitchen and inhaled that first cup of coffee. When I was a kid, I never understood why that first cup of coffee seemed to mean the difference in life and death. NOW I DO.
Today's schedule was a little easier than Thursday. Today was just a quick spin class. Fifty minutes of climbing up what felt like Mt. Everest. "Stand up, add resistance to your wheel, sit down, stand up, add resistance, sit down..." This particular spin instructor works on a scale of 1-10, starts at a 7 and tells us to add at least 6 full turns to our resistance during the course of a song. Huh? Math must not have been his strong subject.
Thursday was a little tougher because it was a brick day, which basically means you've got to do two of the three components of a triathlon. In this case, it was running and swimming. 25 minutes on the treadmill to start things off followed by 25 minutes in the pool. The run was fine. The YMCA has some nice little screens on the treadmills, so I got caught up on some SportsCenter (like I'm ever behind) and jammed to a new playlist.
Isn't it funny how something like a new playlist adds pep to your step? Even old songs that you hadn't thought about in months, when added to that new playlist in a certain order, really makes me go. "Real Good Man" by Tim McGraw,"Pick-Up Man" by Joe Diffie, "Skin Deep" by Melissa Etheridge...three old ones that made their way into my "2010 kick-off" list.
On to the swim. The YMCA has a small pool. 25m long with about 5 lanes and LOADS of chlorine. That will be my perfume for the next four months. Better that than kid urine.
What you need to know is that I love to swim. I grew up on Table Rock Lake, took every swim lesson available and was even a member of the Monett Summer Youth Swim Team for a few years (backstroke was my speciality...long arms.) Going into the first triathlon last Spring, I wasn't concerned about the swim. I thought I would be pretty strong. I did all the training and felt comfortable. The 800m portion of the race was in Tempe Town Lake, a man-made body of water that slices thru Tempe. There are rumors about dead bodies and dead fish and other disgusting things in the lake, but nevermind any of that. I'm a country girl! I can handle it. WRONG. I started swimming and got claustrophobic. All the splashing by other swimmers freaked me out, I couldn't see (my $4 goggles from Target might have played a part) and the stroke count I had planned on - four strokes and a breath, four strokes and a breath - was out the window. Survival was the name of the game.
But folks, I consider myself a gamer. I put my head down and forged ahead. I talked myself out of the anxiety and next thing I knew, I was cruising. Seriously, I thought I had bolted to the lead Dara Torres style. How wrong I was. I stopped to gather myself for a moment and realize I was going sideways. "Running east to west instead of north and south" to put it in football terms. By this time, the 40+ age group (we started in waves based on age) was hot on my tail. To save face, I channeled Flipper and pushed really hard to wrap up the swim, but it took a lot out of me for sure.
Moral of the story, I'm going to be better prepared this time. Even if I have to swim with my eyes closed during open lap swim at the Y, I will shave some minutes off my swim time. (Next blog: The story of the little old people who hog the swim lanes.) The next race is in the Sea of Cortez - salt water - and I was reminded today that I would be more buoyant. Hey, I'll take every advantage I can get.
On the agenda for the weekend is a run tomorrow and a bike/swim on Sunday. Maybe I'll take some photos of my excursions (All workouts are outside this weekend. Midwestern friends, it's going to be 71 and sunny all weekend. Not to rub it in or anything). As for tonight...an ice cold brew (Or 3. Or 4.) and the fire pit. It's light beer. Still within the training guidelines.
*What does that mean and where did it come from? I visualize someone literally sitting on pins and sharp pine needles, waiting for something to happen, rocking back and forth, back and forth, to keep the pain from settling in one spot. PTL for Wikipedia... "Paresthesia is the sensation of tingling, pricking or numbness of a person's skin with no apparent long-term effect. It is generally known as the feeling of "pins and needles" or of a limb falling asleep..." And you thought you wouldn't learn anything from this blog...
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Accountability is the goal
It's funny how there is always great intent for TOMORROW'S workout. Daily, I set my alarm to wake up at 5 a.m. to get to the gym, have an hour to and hour and a half workout and still make it home in time to enjoy a cup of coffee on the back patio before getting ready for work. And then the alarm goes off, Venus cuddles up a little closer, I hit snooze and promise to get up at 6:30. "I'll just run outside," I tell myself. That doesn't happen. And I live in Phoenix for goodness sake. It's not like it's cold or there is snow on the ground or ice to scrape off the windshield.
So I miss the morning workout and vow to do a dreaded end-of-the-day workout. Right now, from 5-8 p.m., the gym is jammed with the resolutioners, taking up bikes in my spin class, hogging machines and taking parking spots at the Downtown YMCA that doesn't have enough parking even once the resolutioners have lost their gumption.
So this is the reason for writing. This is a way to hold myself accountable. If I tell you I am getting up at 5 a.m. tomorrow to swim and run (which is the goal), I have to do it. HAVE TO. That's the first-born child in me. I can't let you down. Even if there are four of you and I don't know you. I will not let you down!
Plus, it's a resolution to write more. My high-dollar private education was all about becoming a journalist of some sort. Or working for Hallmark. One of the two. Somewhere down the road, I would love to be that woman working for a fitness, travel, food or sports magazine that simply offers my opinion in print on a trail, a new brewery or a new offensive coordinator (GO CHARLIE WEIS! Lead my Chiefs to the Super Bowl!).
Back to the workouts...April 24 is the deadline. A triathlon in Rocky Point, Mexico. It will be my second sprint. My first was last Spring and I really enjoyed it (except the swim which I'll get to later). I finished 21st out of 75 or so in my age division, coming across the line in 1 hour and 40 minutes and some change. The goal this time is to get that under 1 hour and 30 minutes. I'm even more committed to my training this go-round (plus I want to have that rockin' bikini body ready to roll for the summer...let me just be totally honest with you). I think I can shave some time off the swim (by swimming straight ahead and not sideways) and the bike. I did pretty well on the bike in the first one and I was riding my 1992 trek mountain bike that I bought for two-a-days back in the day at William Woods University. Yeah. Bad.
Tonight's workout consisted of one of those post-work workouts. I hit snooze so many times this morning the snooze stopped going off. So I decided to do a 30-minute run, which is on the training list for the week. Hannah (my 6-year old German Shepherd/Lab mix) and I set out to take a run down McDowell Road in Central Phoenix.
Hannah and I have only known one another for a little over a year. She's my partner's dog. She wasn't walked much on a leash as a puppy so as soon as the door opens, she GOES. It's like hitting the gas on a race car...and dragging me behind. I've been working on Hannah as a running partner for awhile and she's getting there, but the first quarter mile is a race. I feel like Flo Jo trying to set a world record...with a dog.
We finally settled in to a good cadence (aside from the occasional dart off to smell a pole which resulted in whip lash for me), but I've got to tell you, McDowell during rush hour is backed up for miles. I was moving faster than most of the cars and believe me, nothing about my pace at this point is swift. Plus, the smog coming from the vehicles makes my lungs burn....pollution that settles down in the Valley is hideous. Everyone should own a Prius! At one point I did wonder if I would have been better off just settling in for a beer and a pack of cigarettes instead of going for a run.
McDowell Road also offers an assortment of businesses. A boxing gym (that could be the next challenge) with kids of all ages outside jumping rope, a funky little hair salon, Sonic (YUM) and my favorite...Friction Cabaret. Newly remodeled. Dancers all day.
BUT, we finished and it felt good. By the end, I was dragging Hannah. Another day down and another day closer to a 750m swim in the sea of cortez, a 16.5 mile bike ride and a 5k. I did hear that the race closes out on a massive water slide that runs right into a beer garden, complete with chips and salsa, tamales and tacos. Sounds fantastic.
So I miss the morning workout and vow to do a dreaded end-of-the-day workout. Right now, from 5-8 p.m., the gym is jammed with the resolutioners, taking up bikes in my spin class, hogging machines and taking parking spots at the Downtown YMCA that doesn't have enough parking even once the resolutioners have lost their gumption.
So this is the reason for writing. This is a way to hold myself accountable. If I tell you I am getting up at 5 a.m. tomorrow to swim and run (which is the goal), I have to do it. HAVE TO. That's the first-born child in me. I can't let you down. Even if there are four of you and I don't know you. I will not let you down!
Plus, it's a resolution to write more. My high-dollar private education was all about becoming a journalist of some sort. Or working for Hallmark. One of the two. Somewhere down the road, I would love to be that woman working for a fitness, travel, food or sports magazine that simply offers my opinion in print on a trail, a new brewery or a new offensive coordinator (GO CHARLIE WEIS! Lead my Chiefs to the Super Bowl!).
Back to the workouts...April 24 is the deadline. A triathlon in Rocky Point, Mexico. It will be my second sprint. My first was last Spring and I really enjoyed it (except the swim which I'll get to later). I finished 21st out of 75 or so in my age division, coming across the line in 1 hour and 40 minutes and some change. The goal this time is to get that under 1 hour and 30 minutes. I'm even more committed to my training this go-round (plus I want to have that rockin' bikini body ready to roll for the summer...let me just be totally honest with you). I think I can shave some time off the swim (by swimming straight ahead and not sideways) and the bike. I did pretty well on the bike in the first one and I was riding my 1992 trek mountain bike that I bought for two-a-days back in the day at William Woods University. Yeah. Bad.
Tonight's workout consisted of one of those post-work workouts. I hit snooze so many times this morning the snooze stopped going off. So I decided to do a 30-minute run, which is on the training list for the week. Hannah (my 6-year old German Shepherd/Lab mix) and I set out to take a run down McDowell Road in Central Phoenix.
Hannah and I have only known one another for a little over a year. She's my partner's dog. She wasn't walked much on a leash as a puppy so as soon as the door opens, she GOES. It's like hitting the gas on a race car...and dragging me behind. I've been working on Hannah as a running partner for awhile and she's getting there, but the first quarter mile is a race. I feel like Flo Jo trying to set a world record...with a dog.
We finally settled in to a good cadence (aside from the occasional dart off to smell a pole which resulted in whip lash for me), but I've got to tell you, McDowell during rush hour is backed up for miles. I was moving faster than most of the cars and believe me, nothing about my pace at this point is swift. Plus, the smog coming from the vehicles makes my lungs burn....pollution that settles down in the Valley is hideous. Everyone should own a Prius! At one point I did wonder if I would have been better off just settling in for a beer and a pack of cigarettes instead of going for a run.
McDowell Road also offers an assortment of businesses. A boxing gym (that could be the next challenge) with kids of all ages outside jumping rope, a funky little hair salon, Sonic (YUM) and my favorite...Friction Cabaret. Newly remodeled. Dancers all day.
BUT, we finished and it felt good. By the end, I was dragging Hannah. Another day down and another day closer to a 750m swim in the sea of cortez, a 16.5 mile bike ride and a 5k. I did hear that the race closes out on a massive water slide that runs right into a beer garden, complete with chips and salsa, tamales and tacos. Sounds fantastic.
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