Way Reasonable

The coolest thing about all your comments on my new plan is that everyone saw how completely reasonable it was!

Thank you! I totally agree!

That's big for me. Cause, I'm a chronic planner and I have biiiiiig ideas in the early stages and tend to overwhelm myself in the process.

Pushup goals? Totally manageable.

Frequency goal? An excellent idea.

FSR goal?

Weight goal? Toooootally doable.

Nice run last night (woot!) that was relatively pain free. Reminded me how LUCKY I am to be able to go out and run on a dime. It's such a gift. Really.

This morning, I was up early and in the basement (full of spiders) and wrestled with the swiss ball (my fave, as you know) and the assortment of weights down there. I have every intention of making that ball my bitch again, you know. Today, however, it was not. (I have a bruised right knee to show for it.) But soon. Soon... .

Also, last night I made yet another yummy Ellie Krieger dish, this one from the Food Network site. I'll blog about it later. It had pumpkin seeds and chicken and roasted tomatillos and it was nuuuuuummy.

Change of direction

If you haven't already noticed, I've been blogging less about training recently and more about my so called life. The training is there, but it's more sporadic and falls victim to wedding planning and work exhaustion more than I'd like to admit.

I'm at a good point now to reassess and make a plan for the rest of the season -- what I want to do and how.

I know I'd like to continue to race. That's a given. Sprints would be a good way to keep me honest, especially since the only Oly's around here seem to be on wedding designated weekend. (And there are sooo many wedding designated weekends!)

But I'm also thinking of adding a different goal as a primary one. I want to improve on my running and safely build up to a solid weekly mileage. I also want to tone up and lose some weight before the wedding. Nothing drastic, just so my back and arms are nice and tight and I can feel comfortable in my wedding dress.

(Which is soooo pretty. I tried it on again yesterday for my FMIL, and I really, really like it. I'm having an issue since it doesn't really match the heiloom pearls or my mother's ring that I intend to wear, but I'll figure that all out later. For now, I'm just happy it's the right dress for me. The ivory version that's mineallmine is due in October 10th. Sqeeeeeel!)

So, I'm in the process of putting together a plan to keep my swimming and biking in line for sprint distance races, as well as build my running efforts. I find that running is the best weight loss bang for my buck, and I miss having higher mileage each week. So, a Sprint distance run-focused plan. I'll return to the ball of hell in the basement and the Elf's strength circuits to build my upper body and core.

If anybody is interested, I can (figure out somehow to) post my spreadsheet here so you can see my plan and progress.

I think there should be some goals involved, to keep me on my toes. Right? Here are the one's I've thought through so far...

August:

• Meet at least 80% of my training sessions (frequency) *
  
• Work up to 25 pushups (continuous) and 50 pushups (in one day)
• Hit a 5k in 33:36 minutes (10:30 pace)
• Run 4 x week (min) **
  
• Lose 5 lbs weight (160 lbs) ***
  

September:

• Meet at least 80% of my training sessions (frequency)
• Work up to 50 pushups (continuous) and 100 pushups (in one day)
• Hit a 5k in 32:00 minutes (10:00 pace)
• Run 4 x week (min)
• Lose 5 additional lbs weight (155 lbs)

October:

• Meet at least 80% of my training sessions (frequency)
• Maintain pushups goal
• Hit a 5k with mile splits all under 10:00 pace
• Run 4 x week (min)
• Lose 5 additional lbs weight (150 lbs)

November:

• Maintain pushups goal
• Run at least 3 x week
• Maintain weight loss (150)
• Stay healthy for the November 22nd Big Day.

I'll keep y'all updated on the plan this week. It's almost done, but I need a little time to work on it tonight, just to get the kinks out.

____

* I struggle with consistency, so this is a biggie for me.
** Rest weeks will be shorter, easier runs. But the frequency will stay the same. I think it helps with my knee health to keep the frequency, but dial down the intensity and duration. Time off from running at all seems to hurt my knee, rather than help.
*** I'm currently at 165, and have been here pretty consistently for a long time.

Irony, Day #2

Apparently, I was a week too early.

Don't worry, Wes, I'm all done with my pity party. No need for cussing, the moment has passed. Perspective found. (Whew!)

Went for a run last night that nearly kicked my butt. A lousy 3.2 that was brutal due to the 150% humidity. But, as always, it's better to know you can do it at all then get stuck with your training pants down on race day.

Speaking of race day...did I mention that I have a race. Like this weekend. As in Saturday of this weekend.

No?

Denial is a powerful thing. A powerful, powerful thing.

I'm going to have to think about my goals for this. Some really sharp knee pain last night only 20 minutes in and the serious change in training plans this last month may mean I need to scale back my goals. Before I declare, I'm going to see how tonight's swim and tomorrow's bike go.

I mean...it's only an Olympic, right?

...

...yeah...even I don't buy that.

(Lack of) Training Update

So...

...

...it's been an interesting week full of all things unexpected. Last week, Michael's grandmother (Nana), whom I love dearly for her quiet spunk, was feeling funny and then feeling bad and then in the hospital for one thing and then they found other things and let's just say it's been a very challenging week for her. And her family. Every time we think one thing is solved, another is discovered. We just don't know what to expect when the phone rings anymore.

But, even after an emergency surgery late yesterday that even the surgeon admitted was not high on his list of predicted successes, Nana was pushing strong in the recovery room, lucid and alert. She amazes me. Every moment.

So much of our week has been driving to and from the hospital, about an hour away, to see her and spend time together. What it hasn't been spent doing is (a) cleaning our house, (b) watering our plants, (c) doing laundry, or (d) training.

No regrets, mind you. This is so not a complaint.

But it is a reality to manage. I haven't been at the pool, on the bike, or run for a week. Exactly 2-weeks out from an Oly is not a good time to go cold-turkey. Hopefully this weekend will bring some good training sessions. I need that. My sleep is all messed up, my face is breaking out from the weird cafeteria foods, and I'm getting squishy. Yes, squishy. Around my hips.

My sentiments exactly...gross.

Diamond in the Rough: Prep Time & Goals

Next race up? Diamond in the Rough.

1 mile swim/27 mile bike/5 mile run

This one is an olympic distance in Perryville, MD, hosted by the Piranha group who so very patiently waited for me to finish the Devilman half...in like a bazillion hours. Love them.

Of note about the race is that it's a hilly course with some technical turns and no-pass areas. The swim is at a river/bay junction and will be in the direction of the current, which is always a bonus. The run is an out and back.

I had to think real hard to remember the last time I did an olympic distance and finally remembered the Lancaster Triathlon in 2006. Wow, that was a long time ago, huh. Here were the results then...

Olympic Triathlon (03:07:55)

1000M swim (18:35)(1:51/100)

23.7m bike (1:45:44)(13.45 avg)

5.7m run (1:03:36)(11:09 pace)

Not bad, actually! I think I can improve on these this year to a certain degree. I'm thinking my swim will be close, although likely more around a 1:55/100 average as the distance is longer (1 mile). I'm considering skipping my wetsuit (it's having major zipper issues) which will keep my times closer to pool times than race times. My run will likely be in the same realm, although I'm hoping to get through without any (too much) pain. It's the ride that I think will seriously improve. I'm a better cyclist today.

I'm hoping for this...

SWIM: 30 minutes = 1:51/100
Ambitious, for sure. But so am I.

BIKE: 1:30 = 18 mph average speed
Again, ambitious. Very ambitious. But Saturday I did 25 miles at 16.6 average on rolling hills in crazy heat. And I wasn't racing. I can nail something like that under race conditions, I'm sure.

RUN: 1:00 = 12 min miles
The unknown. Expecting 12 minute miles is probably reasonable, but the pain factor could change things. No pain? I think I could do 55 minutes for this. Pain? Could be a deathmarch home. I never know.

____

So, the next month will be a busy one keeping up with this level of fitness and really honing in on these distances. A couple of 1 mile time trials in the pool with sighting. A few more visits to the hillier routes to really get my gearing strategy and legs ready for eating through any hills on the course. And more bricks than I have been doing -- I've been woefully short on bricks.

The plan...

...I won't bore you with my daily routine for this one, but generally speaking I'm doing 3/3/4 and some core. Three swims a week (gots to gets me to daz pool), three rides (one short, one hills, one long with hills plus a run), and four runs (one short, one medium, one itty bitty, one long).

I'm not going to make myself crazy with this schedule, but I'm going to have spectators this time (my inlaws are coming down for the festivities) so I don't want to (a) puke (too much), (b) bonk on the bike, or (c) be unprepared for the run. I have intentions of crossing that finish line strong for all the lovely people who want to spend their morning watching me race.

Ok. Enough from me. I have things to do...like train or somethin' like that...

Iddy Biddy Breakthroughs

Recently, I've been struggling a bit with training on two fronts. First, my mojo took a bad left turn somewhere and got lost. Second, I've been struggling finding the right solution to some pain I've been having while running...again.

But, I think I've actually come to some resolution on both fronts.

Gasp is right.

Let's start with the running. Long story short, I purchased my Asics Kayanos upon a recommendation from a friend/fellow triathlete who has lots of experiencing doing just that, but didn't have the benefit of being right there with me during the purchase. I was thrilled for new shoes. I was thrilled for support and cushioning. It was a good relationship.

Until it wasn't. It's been over well over a year now and I've been through multiple halves, an iron attempt, olys, sprints, road races, trail races, and training in a string of Kayanos. And the whole time my limiter has been (a) my willingness to get my ass out of bed to train (completely irrespective of my shoes, but true and we're being thorough here), and (b) knee pain.

This year my typical IBS converted to a strained hamstring and glute. The last five miles of the Devilman Half was a mix of walking and dragging my left leg behind me in what I call my Frankinstein run. It was bad. All of a sudden I'm icing daily and taking OTC pain meds and seeing an ART specialist. The good news is that, following lots of advice from different specialists, it seems I'm one of the rare supinators. Under-pronators. AKA gots ta run on the outsides of her feets.

In a nutshell, I was exaggerating an issue that my feet naturally have and could easily be accommodated for in a neutral shoe by forcing my foot to stay on the outside. As a result, I'm asking the outside of my legs (especially my left one with the existing tight IT Band) to do the bulk of the work.

And they don't like it.

So, I switched my shoes this week. Asics Nimbus 9. A neutral shoe with moderate cushioning because -- let's face it -- I'm still an Athena and we Athena's need a little shock absorption between us and that hallowed road.

And now when I run? I stop because of fatigue, not pain. It has been a long time since I could say that. This has made a huge difference in my mojo, too. I no longer flinch when I think about needing to run on a certain day. It's no longer about managing the pain, I can get back to enjoying the training.

Whew.

And, speaking of mojo, I may have found that again, too. In the last few weeks I haven't really been -- I don't know -- connected with my training. I can't see it in my head. Sounds stupid, I know. But I'm so distracted by my life I haven't really kept my training incorporated into that picture. So it's been on my mental edges, which has translated to being on the edges of my time.
A good part of it is the pain and effort. The pain from my knee/ham/quad getting better and the effort of coming back to regular sessions after time off. I knew I just had to go out and do it, but I just couldn't get myself there.

But I have a race looming in my future, so I have to get back to it, even the hard stuff, especially the hills rides. I've been ducking and dodging the hill rides because I've been worried that my week and half off left my legs all mushy and meally like. Plus I have to dial in the cleat placement on my shoes and there's always wedding things to plan and isn't it time for another batch of gazpacho? No? Bike?

Fine.

Last night I bailed on all those other distractors and finally got my arse out there for my local hill ride. And, you know what?

It rocked. I felt like last year during Iron training, but better. I forgot how responsive my new bike is and how smooth it is to ride. I realized that I still have a TON of fitness in me, even though I had a wee vacation from training. In fact, I tackled the ride better last night than I ever had last year.

And for the first time in a while, I could see the summer days stretching out ahead of me with many quick evening rides, chasing my shadow home and hoping I made the turn around early enough.

So. Let's review.

Shoes -- check.

Mojo -- check.

Life, my friends, is good.

Where art Thou, mojo?

I've lost my mojo.

There, I've said it.

No major drama -- I'm sure I left it around here somewhere. I looked behind the couch and in the recycling bin. Nothing yet. Although bulk trash was Tuesday. Crap.

I can't seem to get into the groove again.

This morning? Beautiful, sunny, cool. I had all my gear laid out for a morning run. One that had to happen because I may have evening plans to do a dress fitting and veil shopperoo with the FMIL. One that had to happen because I was stuck at work late yesterday, got bogged down at the grocery store getting ingredient for (another delicious Ellie Krieger recipe) dinner, and missed ALL my planned workouts. Scratch that....*skipped* all my planned workouts.

Erg.

Just have to start from where I am and work forward. As usual. Part of what is making it hard to get out there is the knowledge that it just plain hurts more when you step back into regular training. It only lasts a week or so, but I'm being avoidant. I don't want to hurt. But I do. But I don't.

And so goes the conversations I have in my head at 6:45 when the sun is up and I should be running.

This morning was not a win. Time to turn things back on, or around, or whatever.

Next stop?

Thanks to everyone who wrote such great comments last week. I needed that. I mean, I knew it was the right decision, but it's nice to have two dozen internet friends confirm for you that, no indeed, your mama didn't raise no fool.

Whew.

Even my Dad stepped up and sent me a note about being very proud of me and how this will be a great decision for our future.

Which, of course, means that he read that part about 'sucking monkey balls.'

And likely my in-laws did, as well.

Oh. My.

___

Now, to put your fears at rest, I will not go quietly into the night of triathlon moderation.

NO!!

I warbled around the house for about 2 days, getting all weirded out by not having anything to do at 7:00 at night. Asking whether I could go to bed that early. Sleeping so much I woke up feeling (gasp) rested. And generally feeling completely unmoored from my roots.

Because I didn't have a plan.

People, I NEED A GOAL.

I know this much is true. I always need a goal. I need something to look forward to, to plan for, to get ready for, to just plain have in my sights.

I don't fare well bouncing around the house.

So, I'm off again. Next stop? Diamond in the Rough -- an olympic (yeah!) tri that's under an hour (yeah!) away from my house. It's affordable and close. So close, in fact, that my future mother-in-law is coming to see what all the fuss is about (yeah!) and it should prove to be a fun day.

I read "technical" and "hilly" in the bike course description. Bring. It. On.

I've reached back into my library for a new plan to get ready. Honestly, I feel much more at ease with the advanced plans now that I've spent 6 months working with a coach. She forced me to test my boundaries, so I'm a little more at ease with complicated plans.

I just have to make sure I'm not SO at ease I just start skipping my workouts. Um...cause I've never, ever done that before. Neeeeevah.

So.... I'm back on the training tip and have a double session waiting for me tonight. And another two singles tomorrow. And a full week of intervals and base swims and fartleks and short rides and long runs and (of course) a brick for good measure.

Oh, and some core work. Because this little chica has her first wedding dress fitting over the weekend.

I know.

I peed myself just a little, too.

Plus, I'm going wedding shoe shopping with said FMIL tomorrow night...and we're going to bust out all girlie like and try on veils and tiaras and pretty things in the name of matrimony. And being girls.

I just hope they don't mind me showing up in training gear.

(wink)

Me, We, Three

I’m going to make light of this, because it’s the only way I can come to terms with it. I’m disappointed. Very disappointed.

So, last year I decided that it was about time I buckled down and got serious about this sport. A new bike, a new coach, a new attitude, and a lot of great races on the horizon. Soon I added a nutritionist and an ART therapist, piles of gear, and lots of traveling.

And it was a good. I was happy and wise. But somehow not so wealthy.

Seems that when you spend all of your free money on training and racing, there’s no money fairy that replaces it in your wedding savings fund or the ‘I’ve gotta move out of this dang neighborhood’ bank account.

Like, seriously....where is the freaking fairy?

Two nights ago, Mighty M and I had a heart to heart. He’s a man of few words, and being that man of few words, I know that when he says something in one of our “grown-up” conversations, I should listen.

We talked about our wedding. And our mortgage. My student loans and his outstanding obligations. We talked about needing to move before making babies (thankyouverymuch) and how much house we could afford. And when we could afford that.

And it was scary and a reality check for me. You see, all Mighty M needs for entertainment is an Xbox and zombie movies. Seriously. I wouldn’t joke about this.

Me? I’ve picked up a habit that’s a wee bit more pricey. And it’s not totally fair, you know.

And every husband or wife out there reading this probably remembers the moment the “me” became the “we.”

Well, we just had a moment.

So, I decided to pare down. EVERYTHING. And it was hard. Being responsible sucks monkey balls.

Of course, the Elf understood when I explained it all to her, and was more gracious than anyone I know. A consummate pro, in more ways than one. And you’ll see my race schedule has DRASTICALLY changed on the sidebar. I’ve pared it down to just some local races that I want to keep so I stay motivated and in shape, but won’t break the bank. I’m going to skip the rest of the halves this year and, instead, continue to build my own fitness with lots of cross training.

And maybe I’ll start needlepointing again.

Cause I have no idea what I’m going to do with all of this free time.

….

So.

I’m sad, but I know it’s the right decision. I’m part of something bigger than just my own wants and needs, now. And for that, I’m very lucky. So it’s time for a little sabbatical from my favorite hobby so, one day, Mighty M can carry me across the threshold of our brand new house and we can start making the “we” the “three.”

And that is worth it.

What? Who...me?

That's pathetic.

My last post was like eleven days ago. And it wasn't even a FUNNY post. I've been giving you NOTHIN' recently, friends.

Nothin.

But, it's only because I've been pulled in seventy different directions from all the things I love (and hate) in the world. Lots of it has been good, some tiresome, and a shred (an important shred) barely tolerable.

BUT

I'm still in the midst of this joy.

So, in bulleted form, a summary:

• I rode my bike outside this weekend. Like for 4 hours. Somewhere around 57 miles and 3,700 feet of climbing. And it was good.

• I now have some basic bike handling skills. Seems riding a bike is exactly like riding a bike. Who knew?

• In mile, say, two during this epic ride, I managed to pinch a nerve in my forefinger of my left hand. Still have a bizarre pins and needles effect all the way up the finger. Don't worry, I still managed to waggle it at Might M more than once or four times this weekend.
  

• I've finally used my nifty little Profile aero bottle for my bars that I bought somewhere back in the 70s. Seems it helps to not cut the straw quite so short. Also seems it makes for a nice, refreshing shower every time you hit a bump. Good to know.

• If you've had that lovely shower of fruit punch flavored Accelerade for about 25 miles and choose to stop at the local Gas'n'Sip for some supplies, don't be surprised by the swarm of bees. It's your fault for coating yourself in crack before you got there.
  

• I'm a salty sweater. Gross if you know me. Grosser if you live with me and I make you touch it.
  

• I have a tiny little race coming up in a week and a half. It's a half ironman. Yeah, I know. 70 miles or something like that. It just occurred to me how freaking close it is. I panic on the inside.

• I have finally found the perfect pair of cycling shorts. And the perfect top. And in case I forget which ones they are when dressing in the morning, I can just line them up with the ridiculous tan lines I got last weekend. Also good to help position my Garmin on my wrist. In case I, you know, forget.

And here are the things that made it 110% necessary for me to blog the lazy man's way, through bullets.

• My fabulous job, at my fabulous nonprofit, is hosting its annual gala this weekend. The board of directors, me, and my crack team of... well, just me. Typically a three ring circus that makes oxygen deprivation days in the pool look like recess.
  

• Between now and next Tuesday -- in addition to hosting our big fundraiser -- I will write a grant request for $5,000. And another for $15,000. And, for kicks and giggles, a third for $20,000.

• If you didn't already know, writing that many grants in that period of time sucks monkey balls.

• I owe a race report for the local cycling club from a race that was over two weeks ago. That's a long time for a race report. I'm a total turd.

• Apparently "taper" in the real world is not like "taper" in my imaginary world. Seems I have to train this week, too. Bloody hell.

• Incidentally, training this week will be the only thing that gets me through the stress. That, a ton of Dunkin Donuts, and some sleeping pills.

Last year, I had heart palpitations and night terrors from this month of deadlines and responsibilities. So far, neither have crept in.

But it is, of course, only Monday.

What 700 miles in the basement is *really* good for

LEST y'all think I'm poopoohing the benefits of my trainer sessions in the basement, I'm going to share a little nugget with you.

Yesterday I walked up the stairs. Normally. As in not hunched over, stiff legged and awkward. Just a normal, lahdeedah pace up stairs. Lots of stairs. All day long.

Normally, two days after a hill-filled race I would be all bent over and old lookin'. But not now.

Why?

Because I worked my a** off in the basement this year. And while I didn't smack the hills around on Sunday as secretly hoped, I certainly didn't need a week to recover from them either.

How about one day to recover.

And THAT, my friends, is a good thing.

So don't start worrying that this complicated relationship you've developed with your trainer in the belly of your home is for naught.

It's all good.

***

In only marginally related news, I was out looking for a "flat" course last night to do a recovery ride on. And since I can no longer claim frostbite risks for outdoors riding, I was on the road. And within a half and hour, I got an industrial sized staple directly in my back tire.

And what did I do?

I promptly called Mighty M.

I know, I know. I could have changed it, but it already needs to go into the shop because the tire isn't sitting properly in the wheel, so it goes thunkthunkthunkthunk the whole time I ride. Like a flat tire when I don't have one.

Until, of course, I did.

Rather than get greased up and dirty changing a tire that was going into the shop the next day, I decided for the rescue call instead.

Oh, and since you asked, lazy is spelled a-b-l-e.

Cha-ching

Done!

By way of numbers...

2 bottles of Fruit Punch Accelerade consumed
2 bags of Sport beans consumed
2 gels consumed
1 frantic bathroom trip, 3 stories up
4 fast transitions
0 wasted time
4 times I wondered why I was watching Keeping up with the Kardashians
2 episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians watched in the entirety (chickens? like, really?)
3:10 training in the bank
1 Lance Armstrong movie watched
2 times the remote fell to the floor and split open
1 time I came deese close to falling off the back of the treadmill
12 cuss words spoken at Z4 run interval, a mere 2:25 into the brick
2713 calories burned
0 shortcuts


which leaves us with...

... 1 well earned burger and monster salad to be consumed by yours truly.

Peace out, girlscout.

Dream a little dream

I'm not dreading today's workout, but my subconscious is.

Today I have the last big prep workout for the big duathlon next weekend. It's a Du Brick of the likes I've never tried before. All my bricks have been in the bike to run format...worked pretty well for me. This one, is different.

45 on the bike with increasing levels of HR
30 minute run with increasing levels of HR
45 bike repeat (build, build, build!)
30 minute run repeat (build, build, build!)
30 minute bike spin out

Gah.

That'll be new.

And my knee has been flaring again. All the way up to the hip. My new fancy refreezable icepack and I have become close friends. My roller and I are in an intense lovehate relationship and DEESE far away from an ex parte restraining order. It's been fun at my house this week.

Last night I had a dream I was down at the local university's athletic center and had lost a chunk of my left calf and (much more recently in the dream) lost another huge chunk of muscle out of my right calf. I was climbing endless stairs with the swim team, trying to find the upstairs exit. (Huh?) Once I did, I had a long hill to climb to get back into town and it was the slow trudgery that only a dream can bring you. Heavy legs, walking through molasses, cant. walk. faster. At the top, I ran into my hockey coach from high school who was at the finish line of a running race that I had missed. She was decidedly not impressed with my chunked out calves.

Sigh.

So, if I don't get my butt in gear and down into the basement for this brick my subconscious will have some more to say about it, I'm sure.

Damnable Freud.

How to completely mess up a rest week AND blow your knee, all in one easy lesson.

Sometimes, training isn't great. Sometimes you don't get to daydream about strong finishes and hear your own soundtrack in your head, urging you forward. Sometimes you don't get what you want, and sometimes you probably should have stayed home.

Yup. Sometimes it just sucks.

And such is life.

From whence this melancholy come? Last week. Or, more specifically, 1:15 PM last Saturday.

Here's the deal. My coach dialed me back for the week for a couple of reasons. First, I have a build coming up for a STUPENDOUS EARTH SHATTERING PEAK for my first race of the season. Okay, I kid a bit with the shattering stuff, but there will be a peak involved I'm told.

And second, I had a 2 hour run on the schedule for Saturday. It's my longest so far on deck since last season and a source of a little consternation about being properly rested and whatnot. But *I* was confident that it would be *just dandy* and *don't worry* about me because 2 hours sound *peachy.* I can do it in my sleep.

Ah, bravado. How did I make it through my 20s without you?

So (warning: admission coming ahead), I'm not really - um - all that great at the rest week thingy. Actually, I'm pretty craptastic at it. Here's why.

"Rest week" in my world (apparently) is translated "everything is optional week."

(Sigh.)

(I know, I know.)

My poor coach. I should have warned her that I have two speeds -- training or sittinginbedwatchingtveatingbonbons.

(no, not really bonbons. maybe berry gelato. but that was just ONCE.)*

I was peachey for my swims, but that quick run on Tuesday? My headache had an easy time of convincing me otherwise. The bike on Wednesday? Notsomuch.

AND WHAT WAS THE RESULT???

Huh? Huh, genius?

That would be knee pain. AND YES, I know, it has happened before. Um, can we say the 2006 Philly Marathon? Yeah, my ITB hates trying to throw out there a 2 hour run when I haven't given it the time of day for a week.

So, Saturday was a day of no lollipops and nary a rainbow. Just one p-ed off runner walking dejectedly home an hour early. And in pain. And really angry with the world (read: myself and my knee).

I iced and I moped and I complained and moped some more. And this tempermental triathlete tantrum didn't end until I finally got on the bike on Sunday to finish up the week's plan.

And you know what? That. Sucked. Too.

(Sigh.)

It can't all be lollipops and rainbows, I guess. Sometimes it just doesn't work. Sometimes I've gotta just remember the good runs and shut up and move on.

And for right now, I've gotta find a local place that sells foam rollers. Because I needs me one. Pronto.


* okay, twice.

Every Last Minute

"I can do anything for 5 minutes."

That's how it started. I was reaching the end of a gut wrenching, find the wizard, leave your guts on the floor bike test and there were five minutes to go. So I decided I could finish this if I could convince myself I could do anything for five minutes.

"I can do anything for 5 minutes."

I said it outloud. I had no reason to trust it. I just wanted it to be true enough, so I forced its existence.

And I could. Managed my focus, kept my form, found some patience and gave the test a little bit more. And I finished and was fine. No blood, lots of sweat, and only a couple tears. I really could do anything for five minutes.


I didn't really think about it until a few weeks later and I was in the pool and desperate to be done with the swim. I was tired and cranky and I still had 15 minutes to go. Only 7:45 and no excuses to get out of the pool. More intervals and a cool down, and I wanted out. But, I decided I could do anything for 15 minutes.

And I did. And I was fine afterwards. And my trust in this little process was growing a little.

Fast forward to that same week on the bike. My toes on my right foot were cramping from my too-tight shoes and I still had 15 minutes to go. Again with the intervals. Again without excuses. But I can do anything for 15 minutes, including that.

So I did.

And now I've come to trust this little tool. I really can do anything for these little periods of time. Even with the pain and the effort and an intense desire to get the hell out of there, I can do this training thing if it's broken up into trusted increments.

I whip out the rule on longer runs, when I'm far enough away from home to want to walk but too close to let myself. I really can get home in one piece because I can do anything for 5 more minutes.

In the water, on the bike, on the road...I've taken the concept out a million times now and it holds up each time. 5 minutes, 10 minutes, another 1/2 hour and those last three miles home.

And yesterday, during my 3:15 on the trainer, I pulled it out one more time. It was well over 2 hours into the ride and my coach put in 2 minutes standing @ 60 rpm, 3 minutes seated @ 70 rpm. Big gear. Zone 2. Repeat.

The first one I cracked at 1:30 and sat down with a thud. Ground my way through the next 3 minutes and stood again. This time at 0:55 my quads were shaking and I leaned into my aeros for support. I sat at 1:30 again. But then I remembered.

I can do anything for 2 minutes.

And I did. I shook and dripped sweat all over the floor and cursed my bike and I wanted to stop at each second that passed, but I made it through the full 2 minutes.

Because I believed that I could. Because I knew that the pain of those two minutes would dissipate soon after and I would be left with a lingering trust of my body and my instincts. The pain always feels like it will stay forever and is larger than you are. And you always have the choice to sit down, cry uncle and give up.

But the pain never really is larger than you are and it's never better to sit down. Because you always can finish if you trust your guts. If you prove to yourself each day that you can do anything for two minutes, it's only a matter of time before that two becomes five, which becomes 90 and then 200.

And then, you're free to do it all. Every last minute of it.

Like Normal

I'm a little thrashed, trashed and cashed.

Today is a nice little break at the end of the third build week. A nice, solid 11:40 effort and only 0:45 short of a perfect week.

(As always, the pool was my downfall -- I went for the ez swim yesterday and found full lanes and lacked the patience to stay. A better triathlete would have stayed and waited. I was not that triathlete. I was too distracted with the house that needed to be cleaned and a huge bike on the horizon of my day. Sigh.)

And for once, I feel totally normal about it. Yeah, I have some serious aches (quads, calves, hammies) and pains (how exactly did I bruise up my ankle so badly on Sat's long run?), but in general, I feel normal.

Which tells me something.

I finally got the formula. I got the right amount of sleep. I got the right amount of food. I stayed healthy and balanced. And came out the other side feeling, well, NORMAL.

Some interesting training experiences to share from the week...

• It's a great feeling when, after being on the bike for 2:30 and managing 4 kind of monster Z2/sometimes Z3 intervals, you don't feel miserable. It's nice to not dread that last 15 minutes of a long bike.
  

• Dialing in nutrition takes a long freaking time. But it's worth the effort. I'm starting to put the pieces together, in the hopes of never having to throw-up in the water again or take pukey pitstops along the road.

• The irony of proper training nutrition is that you can't justify eating a whole pizza afterwards. For example, I did a pretty killer 2:45 ride yesterday, but I also consumed about 1200 calories along the way. No way a large thin crust will work with that math!

• If you go out mad, you'll blow your zones. Mighty M and I fought on Saturday morning. (Don't worry, all healthy couples do occasionally.) I walked out the front door with a 130 heart rate. Over double my resting rate! It took me over 4 miles to get it even remotely under control, and I still ended up with a run that was farther into Zone 2 than I was comfortable with. Don't go out mad.
  

And here's the most important point I learned, which is kind of a follow up to last week's thoughts on missed workouts. When you work with a coach, it's really, really, REALLY important that you follow their plans for you.

If you can hit each of the sessions and do the effort they describe...well, you'll end up feeling normal at the end. A little beat up and a little sore, but normal. There's no over-doing it because you're adding on missed sessions, there's a lot less stress, and it makes sense. Knowing this will help me stay "in line" more in the future.

And now...it's time for a rest week. Two whole days off. Itty bitty little sessions that have lots of Z1 and EZ in the description.

Which is good, since my Dad is coming to stay at the house for a whole week. And Saturday is our "meet the family" brunch, when Mighty M's family and mine meet for the first time. LOTS of things to attend to that don't have much to do with training!

Fending

In the last year or so, since I've been training on a regular basis and watching what I eat, I've been relatively healthy.

Occasionally, I get hit with the hint of something bad to come. But I'm a huge proponent of preventing the bad cold/flu/infection/blahblahblah. When I start feeling sick, I start loading up on sleep and fluids.

My goal: never get super sick.

I used to get horrible illnesses that lasted forever and a day. I was perpetually immuno-compromised because of my heavy drinking and smoking. I treated my body with little respect, so I was always recovering from something or on the verge of something else. It was evident in my lung function, my energy levels, my skin, hair and nails...you name it. It was yuckdome.

So, in an effort to nevah evah go back there, I'm a prevention nut. And my efforts are meeting there match this week.

The throat thing started on Thursday. Kinda scratchy. Would you worry? Prolly not. Me? Absolutely.

Continued into Friday...and Saturday...and yesterday. I generally trained through until yesterday, when I realized this wasn't going to shake with just some positive thinking. So I went to bed. And slept. And then I woke for a while (actually to pack a bag for today's training), and promptly went back to sleep again.

And now I'm sitting at the office, with a throat full of yuck and what feels like a fever. And a headache. And my eyeballs are hot. My eyeballs are hot.

Ugh.

So...tonight is a prescription for a little training (it's an easy session on the bike, although I still can't figure out how "easy" and "one-legged drills" ever fall into the same sentence), the quickest next day prep I can manage (lunch making, outfit picking out, swim bag packing, horrah!), and then straight to bed.

Because I totally and absolutely WILL NOT get sick on a peak week. I refuse to. And I generally get my way. Except for about the flatware this weekend during registry shopping. Didn't get my way on that one. But I will for this.

Brute force and ignorance. Works every time.

Athlemotions...you know, cause it's catchy

I've been struggling a little recently. With my attitude. And I haven't totally figured it out, either.

I'm working on it.

So...recently I started to train my mind a little, in addition to my body. Here's why. I'm having a hard time naturally thinking about myself as an athlete. I don't feel compelled to run around all the time in jockette clothes and yelling out splits for my time from street corner to street corner.

No, it's more like I have to adjust my thinking to include the EMOTIONAL needs I have as an athlete.

What?

:: pause ::

Athletes have emotions? Special emotions? Athlemotions?

Yerp. Apparently so. Who knew?

Here's the thing. We put demands on ourselves, as well as our bodies. Demands for progress. Demands for meeting expectations. Demands for consistency.

Essentially, if we were dating our athletic selves, we would be like, "yo, girlfreeen...you need to BACK IT OFF a little. I mean really! You're a littl' INtense, ya know?"

Or maybe not. But you know what I mean.

As athletes, we become emotionally demanding little cusses, always wanting to see weekly goals met, monthly goals met, target times, increased thresholds, personal bests. I know tons of people that don't even display that kind of attitude when it comes to their JOBS, as in the things that they are PAID to do every day.

And we track and compute and memorize and compare. I can tell you without consultation my average 100, the actual BPM when my heart rate goes out of the aerobic zone, and predict my heart rate in specific gear ratios on my bike (well, at least when it's on the trainer). And I'd have to admit that I visit my Training Peaks more religiously than I do my checking account online statements.

And it's not just that we obsess. We have no mercy. Don't meet an hourly training goal for the week? Otherwise valid reasons start sounding like raging excuses. Backing off of a bum knee for a day feels shameful. Shameful. We don't just feel guilt, we feel regret.

And, frankly people, sometimes we just get out of hand. Our responses to our own "failures" (to hit an interval, gain enough on your average pace, meet the week's hourly plan) become out of proportion to what it really means.

For me, I'm still learning how to manage this -- to curb my own propensity for self flagellation when I don't progress leaps and bounds or don't hit every mark.

CASE IN POINT. Two weekends ago. (and yes, this post has been sitting in "edit" mode for that long...so shoot me.) Coming off of a hard week, my left knee started hurting. Not the usual aches and pains, and not just when biking or running. Like pain. While sitting. Sitting still. So I backed off. I DNS'ed a brutal trail run that I love because I thought it was less than wise to run on my knee.

And then I worried. And moped. And worried. And felt guilty. And then began to wonder (I kid you not) whether this would deplete the progress I had already made this month since it was the tail end of a peak week.

Because I'm a little crazy-like.

Because I'm invested in this and emotional about it.

And because I'm an athlete, which means I give a $hit about my body, my progress, my commitment.

Because I believe that what I do says a lot about who I am.

Because I'm a freaking athlete.

: : SO : :

ANOTHER CASE IN POINT. Last Thursday morning. In the pool.*

The day was a retest. Oh, my bad, let's be accurate. It was a RETEST. The Elf was back with the all caps again.

So, my technical goal: warm up 1000, 10 x 100 ALL OUT MAX EFFORT, ri:10", c/d up to 1000.

My goal inside my head that I don't mention to anyone before I hit the pool but I am really really really personally invested in? Shave 5 seconds off my average 100. Yup. I dream big. Five seconds off my average 100...which means feeling the burn and keeping the form for longer and harder than I did last time.

What do you think happened?

Three. Lousy. Seconds.

Off my average, you ask?

No.

That's right. NO.

Three lousy seconds off of my total elapsed time.

Ouch. Take that, ego. Take that, inside-my-head-goal. Take that, plan.

SO.

Here's the million dollar question -- what do I do with that emotion? How do I manage it in a way that it leads to my progress rather than sidetracking my efforts?

It's hard! It's a challenge to not immediately think about hours spent in the pool and to wonder if I'm just not doing it right or not cut out to swim any faster. It's hard to not interpret the emotion of disappointment negatively, converting it into a conclusion. It takes effort to make sure I use the information in a positive way.

But, you know what?

We're athletes, so we're really, really good at that effort thing. We just have to make sure we make our emotions just as relevant as our splits. Because -- at least for me -- mismanaged emotional responses to training can immediately, do not pass go, no getting out of it, completely ruin hard earned progress.

You know what I mean. Ever miss a run because your knee hurt and mope about it over a pint of ice cream?

Oh, you so know what I'm talking about.

My point? We are going to have emotional responses to our training. Period. Get used to it. It's not wimpy or weak...it's a fact of life. And like all of those less then wonderful facts of life (um, hullo, saddle sores?!), learning to predict, acknowledge and process will get you ahead of the game.

So, I've added training my emotions to my list of swimbikerunstrengthstretching tasks each week. I suspect it will be time well invested...We'll see!


* Dude...catch that? The "morning" thing coming so close to the "pool" word? Yup! Me. In the pool. Before work. Small victory over my bed? Helz yeah.

Hello world

:: blink ::

:: blink ::

Hello world. Nice to see ya.

Feel like I missed out on some stuff. We should catch up over coffee. What's that? Coffee? In my hands. Mmmmm. 'Nilla spice.

Sigh.

Let's see. When we last left the episode, I was exhausted. And vaguely hungry. But distracted by being so tired.

I tried to do a swim, but upon arriving at our gym found that everyone and their sister were swimming. Did you know that our pool has one lap lane from the hours of 4 to 8 during the week? Yup, that's one.* If we're lucky, it won't be the one with the mechanism to lower wheelchairs into the water, that tends to make the lane sharing a tad bit more awkward. We weren't so lucky last night.

So, I stared through the outside window at the busy pool inside and thought about taking a nap. I went in to get an extra copy of the schedule, walked back out, and again stared through the window, wondering if I could get a sense of how long the two people in the lap lane would be. Did they have lots of equipment? Intent looks on their faces? Bulging muscles?

And I thought about food and sleep and how good they would be. But I turned on my heel and headed towards the building again...only to change my mind one more time and pull a 180 and head back towards the parking lot.

The funny part? There was a completely full spin class watching all of this without my knowledge. All of it! All the indecision, the harrumphing, the getting of the schedule, the longing looks through the window.

Who turns the lights out in a spin class? Don't they know I can't see them through their window then? Sneaky bastards.

So, after suffering that embarrassment, I left and headed home, trying to talk myself into just doing the simple sit and spin hour on the bike. Seriously -- the easiest bike session the Elf has ever given me. And I couldn't talk myself into it.

I walked in my front door, grabbed a huge handful of almonds from the kitchen, and then buried myself under the comforter upstairs. I didn't sleep. I just laid there. Unmoving. Just breathing.

After a little while, M came home and announced that I was in no way, shape, or form responsible for dinner -- it was on him. I wanted to leap for joy, but had no energy. I mustered a "weeeeeeeeee" from under the covers and let him tackle the kitchen (a very rare sight, indeed) while I was just still.

A half hour later, there was steamed broccoli, baked chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes on perfect little plates. Love him.

And then I went to bed. At 7:45, I went to bed. I was sound asleep before long and now have almost 12 glorious hours of sleep tucked deep in my body.

Oh. What. A. Difference.

I'm wracked with guilt about not getting anything done last night, but I've learned my lesson.

Unless you take care of your sleep and eat what you actually need, not what you think you need, there will be hell to pay.

Okay, maybe 'hell' is over speaking the problem. But dang will you be tired.


* To be tooootally fair, I could and should go in the morning, when they have 4 open lanes just for us. I used to go in the morning, but then my sleep got all screwy and I got a little lazy and things got sloppy. I need to start that again. Like now. Ugh. Does it count if I say it in a footnote? It's sooo hard to get out of bed... .

Yawn

I'm tired.

No. Check that.

I'm exhausted.

Last night, Mighty M and I were at his birthday dinner and I honestly wondered -- out loud -- whether someone had put a sedative in my salad.

It's come to that.

I suspected clandestine doping via salad.

Right now, I'm practically falling asleep at my desk, even though I had no workout this morning and have had a delicious large Dunkin Donuts coffee in the wee hours and a cup of hot orange pekoe tea with lunch.

:: yawn ::

And yet, I am still exhausted. Like in my bones tired.

Here's the thing. I think I know, why I'm so dang tired. And probably the frequent instinct to nosh that I have. And the animalistic attraction to anything nearby that contains calories. Anything. Please. Feed me.

I'm ignoring the changes. I've just been waltzing through my days, following a solid training plan that has me doing intervals and power sessions and lifting and a whole ton of stuff I never used to do.

I'm burning a lot of freaking calories. I'm burning a lot of freaking energy. I'm practically a freaking pink bunny who wears her sunglasses at freaking night.

Yet, every day I still eat the same stuff and go to bed at the same time.

I used to be good at math. Clearly I now suck at it.

I'm simply not being smart. I have to start getting more sleep. I have to start bringing more food to the office. I have to start acting like I'm in training in all aspects of my life.

Tonight, I'm in the pool for an hour and then home for an hour bike. Then I eat my chicken and broccoli AND GO THE HECK TO BED.

Immediately.

Do not pass go, do not collect money to pay for your new cadence wire, and DO NOT stop in the home office to check your emails and read a few blogs or so.

Just go the heck to bed.

...

Recovery and fuel. Tag words for this week.

Recovery and fuel.

Pay attention, Able.

:: yawn ::

Is it nap time yet?