Home bound
Tired of running town to town
Tired of my heart turned upside down
Now my life's a smile not a frown . . .
You got my soul singing my soul singing . . . from Soul Singing by The Black Crowes
Yesterday I ran my long run. No big deal and nothing really blog worthy about that fact. Last few years I've been doing a long run about every week of the year except in the summer months then maybe it was one every few weeks. This past fall though I started doing the 3 hour run sometimes twice a week and well, that just didn't work out so well for me. Not saying it wouldn't work for some people but for this late-to-discover-running-thirty-eight-year-old-mother-of-two-who-once-shattered-her-pelvis-and-still-a-bit-crooked it just didn't pan out.
But I do so love the 3 hour run. It is what gets my "soul singing".
Okay, not totally true. I really, really hate the first hour of the 3 hour run. I will procrastinate the heck out of starting it and then for the first seven miles I think about not doing it, cutting it short and sometimes just calling this whole running thing quits. I obsess during those early miles about every little thing: I might be too cold, this or that hurts, I am running too slow, I am tired, my outfit is all wrong, the hills are, somehow, steeper today than they were last week, I hate all my ipod music, and nothing feels quite right. But then I am at Walgreens and run in, pee, have Gu, some water from their fountain and I return to the sidewalk feeling better than when I started and now with a "can do!" attitude. For that second hour I run a little too fast and only worry a little about how much that is going to hurt me in the final hour.
Usually in that second hour I stop to buy Gatorade and the man behind the counter at the gas station on Johnson Ferry and Roswell Road alternately will either call me crazy, tell me I am beautiful or suggest that I should run to his house in Lawerenceville (which according to him is 24 miles from the store)and be his wife. On days when I look a little miserable he offers me a ride to his house in Lawerenceville. I don't know his name and he doesn't know mine but for once a week for over the past two years he has been a staple of my 21 mile weekly run.
By the end of the second hour or beginning of the third I usually have a low point. Sometimes, when I don't have it, I worry. I worry because that means catastrophe could be just around the corner. Like earlier this year when in the middle of mile 20 my ankle started hurting and it took me over 20 minutes to limp the final mile home. Agony.
So there is a little bit of comfort when the discomfort comes. Sure I have a bit of a pity party when it arrives but then I get "done" with myself and dig in. I know the best is about to come once I climb out of the valley of darkness. I know this is all self created but getting to triumph over adversity once a week really does help me deal with everything else that comes my way in the rest of my life. So yeah, basically, the long run helps me cope. Once upon a time Ritalin was the drug that made me right; now running is that drug. But that is a boring story for another time.
I love arriving at mile 17. Four miles to go. And now, it is mostly downhill until the final mile and half and at that point I won't care about running up a hill or three. It is always (unless catastrophe strikes) in the those final 30 so minutes that my soul starts its song. Sure I am spent, my hips a little achy, my hamstrings beyond annoyed with me and it would be completely impossible for me to make a sudden movement right or left but it is like my body is locked into running and it isn't going to stop until I get home. I love everything and I am so freaking happy! And it is so funny because at this point I am running on the same road I ran out on and only a few hours earlier I really, really hated this road and everything in the world. Funny how much your perspective can change on a three hour tour.
And always, always-- no matter if it is my regular 21 or I went crazy and ran 25 miles-- I run as hard and fast as I can manage up the final hill to my house. And, I will admit, many times to throwing up my arms and inwardly, okay sometimes outwardly, cheering for myself. And nearly every time as I get to my house I think about cartwheeling across my lawn to my front door. But, again, I am not too sure about my coordination for any movement other than running. So of course, I just slow down and walk happily into my house. But the cartwheels, or if I am really ambitious, the aerials? In my mind I did them. That is how I feel. And I guess if you have never cartwheeled or done an aerial or a flip then you just don't know how awesome and cool that feeling is: that spinning, for a split second, sideways, upside down and all round through the world feeling. That is how I feel after a long run.
But now I am sad.
The major artery that makes my perfect 21 mile run possible is closed. They are taking the bridge out on Sewell Mill Road. It will be out until June. They have a detour but if I follow it puts my run over 22 and I will have to run along Roswell Road. And that means I will have to switch sides just so I can be on the sidewalk to get to Old Canton (which a small portion of right there doesn't have sidewalk). That's no good. Never mind that is a just an ugly stretch to have to run along. Plus, I really like running down Providence Rd and Bill Murdock Rd and past the neighborhood I grew up in before I moved to Roswell. I always have a new memory from when I was little pop in my head. It is a nice little surprise and a great diversion.
So I've been searching for a new route. I tried one out yesterday. And it was too long--just over 23 miles. I was thinking though if it worked out I could just do it every 2 weeks and do a 16 mile run on the week in between.
The route took me from my house in East Cobb to Historic Roswell and back. But the Roswell stretch of Shallowford Road has no sidewalk and the soft shoulder is scary. Too many big trucks never mind the big hills. The hills though would be find if I had sidewalk. But running up that big of hill and having to look at the ground so I don't twist my ankle and fall into incoming traffic is just too stressful. Then the coming back along highway 92 is just sucky. 92 is always a wind tunnel. So this route is, sadly, no good.
For me a good running route-- from my house-- will be side walked and it needs to be a big loop that forces me to do the run (if I have to run past my house or have the opportunity to cut it short I probably will.) It also needs to have places I can stop to pee and get water. I don't like having to carry stuff and this is the suburbs; I can't just pee in someone's front yard. But those are just the basics. Ideally a good route will be somewhat scenic. Running along a 4 lane road past strip malls is not scenic in my opinion.
So I am still searching. I haven't looked into a route that will take me out towards Marietta or Woodstock so that could be an option. . .
Showing posts with label training. Show all posts
Showing posts with label training. Show all posts
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Puffed Up and Pouty Like a Swollen Creek
I can't talk about Fight Club yet. I am sour on things; bratty and really don't have a lot nice to say. Everything is off, out of place and just plain not copacetic in my little corner of the universe. Yes, I am hiding--throwing sticks and tossing stones and just not ready to come out. Maybe when it is sunny here again I will.
I do feel guilty for neglecting the blog. I haven't written because I am so negative lately. I can hardly stand to be around myself; much less spend time, thought, and words giving it a name, labeling and cataloging it here for you. I can't even find humor at it--at myself and well, that almost never happens. The yuckiness that I feel lately is thick and chewy and I want nothing to do with it and trust me, neither do you.
Yesterday though, when the sun peaked out a tiny bit, I did go for a little run in the morning and while not fantastic it was okay because it didn't hurt, I could breathe and of course, I was getting to run. But I didn't feel great and it was totally disgusting down by the river where I ran: sewer smell, gray and red mud slicks, twisted and broken trees, mushy gravel and occasionally, an impassable flood pool. All that on a mostly paved path.
In the afternoon I was feeling even better and really wanted to get another workout in. But Tuesdays Beau has his theater class . Typically, while Beau is in class, Carmella and I go shopping or go down by the river and she rides her bike and I run along side her. However, having seen the condition of the trail that morning and knowing Carmella's sensibilities I knew that wasn't going to work out. And because of the general lack of resources, as discussed in the previous post, shopping was out too.
So I convinced Carmella to go on a hike.
I convinced her by telling her we didn't have to run and that we could bring Lola.
Beau's theater class is in the historic section of Roswell and right near the old mill.
The mill area has been completely transformed in the last 10 or so years. When I was younger I thought of the area as a bit sketchy but now I am not even sure if I can afford to breathe the air over there it is so fancy and cute in it's pretentious small town quaint. (Hmm, that sounded a bit snarky. See, I told you I am not nice lately.)
I have heard that there are hiking trails over there and I have been wanting to check them out as I am always looking for new places with new sights to put the miles in. I have no idea how long they have been there but as far as I know they were not there when I lived over in that area during grad school. (I lived a block over on the street with all the churches. A huge 2 bedroom for $500 a month with hardwood floors that I had all to my little lonesome. It was cheap and wonderful and that is where I lived when I very first started running. Ah, nostalgia. . . )
At any rate, for those who have not been there and are also in need of a new place to run it looks like there are quite a few trails and they go all the way down to the cliffs at Allenbrook . How long the trails are I don't know-- the maps I saw didn't say but I am really really bad at reading maps. You go and figure it out and report back to me.
The trails are a little technical, probably most like the ones at Sope Creek. I don't know if you can mountain bike on the mill trails or not. I did not see signs saying one way or the other and I did not see any mountain bikers or really anyone else on the trails.
I brought my camera and we took pictures along the way.
This is the waterfall at Vickery Creek.
I am not totally clear on the names since I saw that it was called Big Creek in a few places. All I know is that I use to hang out a lot down at the waterfall off Sloan Street in high school and we called it Vickery Creek and we could walk straight across the top. And sometimes, never me, people jumped off the waterfall.
This is how it looked yesterday. I was kind of scared just to stand near it. Betting no one is jumping off it or walking across the falls this week.
There are mill ruins all over. Most people hate kudzu but one of the things I love about the landscape of the South is seeing the battles between the vines and the architecture. It is a war in slow motion.
Even though she made me promise we didn't have to run. She ran most of the time. Seriously. She is so silly. Running? It is what kids do. That walking crap is for old people.
I have never seen so many mushrooms in the area as I have this summer/fall. In fact, I have been wanting to make cut outs of Smurfs and put them under the mushrooms on the trails I run on. I think people would like that.
In my not so scientific study of local trails in the area and mushroom life the ones at the Lieta trail are the most interesting: bright pink, red or the spotted variety. At Kennesaw Mountain and at the mill trails all I've seen are the brown and white kinds and toadstools.
We walked down Sloan Street to check out the Founder's Cemetery.
I could stand it only long enough to take few pictures. I got chewed to pieces by mosquitoes if I didn't keep moving. I can't believe how bad the mosquitoes are and here it is mid fall.Aren't they usually gone by now? It it terrible. My legs look like I have the pox!
Do you see it? In this picture?
The ray of light? The sun? It is what I am hoping for these days. Trying not to read too much into it that I saw it, however briefly, in a cemetery. However, it is October so I suppose that makes sense. . . somehow.
Maybe?
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Summer's Sweater
Really.
Who wants to wear a sweater in the summer?
Especially if you live anywhere in the South. The only places more terrible than Georgia for summer sweaters is lower Alabama and central Florida. Places near the beach don't count because they have the breezy air that sometimes at night makes a summer sweater kinda nice. But nothing, I mean nothing, is worse than a sweater in the still hot air. It is called waiting on a hurricane air but the hurricane and its wind never comes and neither does the cooler air. Instead you are stuck with a sweater that you don't need or want.
Even as the summer heat begins to dissipate and the threat of hurricanes wane the sweater stays. If only you could return it like you can an impulse buy. But that isn't even a possibility.
I know you Southerners are smart and know exactly what I am talking about but for all you Yankees and cool West Coasters I am talking about humidity. I have decided, after my runs today and yesterday that it isn't the heat that is so terrible about the South--it is the humidity. I hate it the most of all conditions to run in. I am just sharing this with you because I just made my decision about it today and I wanted everyone to know.
Certainly I complain about a lot of things. And yes, I can be a bit of a Goldilocks runner. I do, I'll admit it. Just like how one can be particular about how they like their coffee; I want my running weather just right. And, not to split golden locks here but I am pretty easy when it comes to my coffee: I take it black but will deal with it however it comes: hot, cold, milky, cream, sugar etc. Most importantly I would just like it to be of the caffeinated variety. Similarly when it comes to running-- as I have proven many times over, I will suck it up and deal with whatever weather hand I am dealt as I am just happy that I have the opportunity to run.
Of course, this does not mean that I won't complain about having to suck it up. Just like if you bring me coffee that is tepid I won't be able to help to myself and will point that out. I will admit, that if nothing else, I can be counted on to complain. You know, everyone has at least one constant in their lives and my knack for expressing my disdain at the less than prefect is mine. As Carmella says "What ev's"
However, I just want to make it known, for the record, that I hate the humidity most of all. It tops the list. And sure, it is a long list. What can I say? I know what I like and what I don't like.
All summer I have been kind of blaming the heat--especially for the suckiness on my 3 hours runs in 90 degrees. Around here I have to think a low humidity day would be around 50-60%. Now whether or not that is actually low I can't say. I only think that if the humidity was below 60% it would probably feel pretty darn awesome. But since every time I go for a run--no matter the temperature-- it is never less than 65% and most times is closer to 90% humidity I can only guess that anything less would be fantastic. But no. I don't know for certain.
But you can criss cross bless yourselves that every single time I go out for a run I am thinking about how I wish it was a cool and dry 55 degrees. I do: I try to channel it. Heck, at this point just the suggestion of 65 degrees and for the air to not be out-sweating me keeps me going through all these runs that feel like I have a heavy wet sweater wrapped around my head.
I am going to admit that I was pretty excited that we finally made it into the 70's and out of the high 80's this week. But I have been nothing but disappointed by the 70's (I bet there were a lot of people that said that 30 years ago too).
Let me tell you, in case you aren't lucky enough to experience it for yourselves: 75 degrees and 90% humidity is still kind of crappy. Definitely, no doubt about it, definitely much better than it being really hot and humid but still not good. No where close to even being okay. Never mind ideal.
I don't know. I am just let down, that is all. I was expecting the 70's to be good. (again, 30 years ago--probably the same thing)
I know. I know. I have been told many times that is what expectations do: they disappoint. I'll never learn.
I just want to say here and now that I want summer to take her damn sweater and leave for several months. Because you know what? I want to wear my sweaters and my jackets and my cute boots and blue jeans. I want to run and not be grossed out that yes-- I do really sweat that much. I don't want to have to worry any more that when I pass people on the sidewalk or on the trail that I might be slinging some of my sweat on them. Beause, really, no matter how cute a person is you don't want their sweat on you. Well, okay. Qualifier: you don't want their sweat on you unless you are naked together. But in that case, there is probably a whole bunch of other, er, "human" things you have committed yourself to and swapping a little sweat, I would think: not really a big issue. Might even be a good thing. At least, that is what I hear. --Mom, Dad.
Okay now. Anyway, I am getting myself excited again-- and it has nothing to do with the aforementioned sentences--well, maybe a little. No really. I just checked 10 days out weather forecast and guess what?
That's right: 50's.
The 50's will be invading Hotlanta next week. Sure it is high 50's and yes it still looks kind of humid but you know what?
That's right: People do need a sweater when it gets in the 50's. So it should be good.
Oh, but what will I do if have no weather excuses to complain about and blame my crappy runs on? No worries. I am certain something will come up. . .
So here it is: 18 miles in the humid, misty and rainy 75 degrees yesterday and 12 miles in the stale humid air today. I am looking at similar conditions for my long run and other runs the rest of this week too. And man, it sure does feel like we are waiting on a hurricane-- and at this point I might welcome it because then at least there would be a breeze.
Oh, but next week. It will get me by-- just the promise of it. You know you can always depend on the forecast 10 days out (Sarcasm people. Love it.)
Fall is closing in.
(I hope.)
Bring on the marathons!!!
Who wants to wear a sweater in the summer?
Especially if you live anywhere in the South. The only places more terrible than Georgia for summer sweaters is lower Alabama and central Florida. Places near the beach don't count because they have the breezy air that sometimes at night makes a summer sweater kinda nice. But nothing, I mean nothing, is worse than a sweater in the still hot air. It is called waiting on a hurricane air but the hurricane and its wind never comes and neither does the cooler air. Instead you are stuck with a sweater that you don't need or want.
Even as the summer heat begins to dissipate and the threat of hurricanes wane the sweater stays. If only you could return it like you can an impulse buy. But that isn't even a possibility.
I know you Southerners are smart and know exactly what I am talking about but for all you Yankees and cool West Coasters I am talking about humidity. I have decided, after my runs today and yesterday that it isn't the heat that is so terrible about the South--it is the humidity. I hate it the most of all conditions to run in. I am just sharing this with you because I just made my decision about it today and I wanted everyone to know.
Certainly I complain about a lot of things. And yes, I can be a bit of a Goldilocks runner. I do, I'll admit it. Just like how one can be particular about how they like their coffee; I want my running weather just right. And, not to split golden locks here but I am pretty easy when it comes to my coffee: I take it black but will deal with it however it comes: hot, cold, milky, cream, sugar etc. Most importantly I would just like it to be of the caffeinated variety. Similarly when it comes to running-- as I have proven many times over, I will suck it up and deal with whatever weather hand I am dealt as I am just happy that I have the opportunity to run.
Of course, this does not mean that I won't complain about having to suck it up. Just like if you bring me coffee that is tepid I won't be able to help to myself and will point that out. I will admit, that if nothing else, I can be counted on to complain. You know, everyone has at least one constant in their lives and my knack for expressing my disdain at the less than prefect is mine. As Carmella says "What ev's"
However, I just want to make it known, for the record, that I hate the humidity most of all. It tops the list. And sure, it is a long list. What can I say? I know what I like and what I don't like.
All summer I have been kind of blaming the heat--especially for the suckiness on my 3 hours runs in 90 degrees. Around here I have to think a low humidity day would be around 50-60%. Now whether or not that is actually low I can't say. I only think that if the humidity was below 60% it would probably feel pretty darn awesome. But since every time I go for a run--no matter the temperature-- it is never less than 65% and most times is closer to 90% humidity I can only guess that anything less would be fantastic. But no. I don't know for certain.
But you can criss cross bless yourselves that every single time I go out for a run I am thinking about how I wish it was a cool and dry 55 degrees. I do: I try to channel it. Heck, at this point just the suggestion of 65 degrees and for the air to not be out-sweating me keeps me going through all these runs that feel like I have a heavy wet sweater wrapped around my head.
I am going to admit that I was pretty excited that we finally made it into the 70's and out of the high 80's this week. But I have been nothing but disappointed by the 70's (I bet there were a lot of people that said that 30 years ago too).
Let me tell you, in case you aren't lucky enough to experience it for yourselves: 75 degrees and 90% humidity is still kind of crappy. Definitely, no doubt about it, definitely much better than it being really hot and humid but still not good. No where close to even being okay. Never mind ideal.
I don't know. I am just let down, that is all. I was expecting the 70's to be good. (again, 30 years ago--probably the same thing)
I know. I know. I have been told many times that is what expectations do: they disappoint. I'll never learn.
I just want to say here and now that I want summer to take her damn sweater and leave for several months. Because you know what? I want to wear my sweaters and my jackets and my cute boots and blue jeans. I want to run and not be grossed out that yes-- I do really sweat that much. I don't want to have to worry any more that when I pass people on the sidewalk or on the trail that I might be slinging some of my sweat on them. Beause, really, no matter how cute a person is you don't want their sweat on you. Well, okay. Qualifier: you don't want their sweat on you unless you are naked together. But in that case, there is probably a whole bunch of other, er, "human" things you have committed yourself to and swapping a little sweat, I would think: not really a big issue. Might even be a good thing. At least, that is what I hear. --Mom, Dad.
Okay now. Anyway, I am getting myself excited again-- and it has nothing to do with the aforementioned sentences--well, maybe a little. No really. I just checked 10 days out weather forecast and guess what?
That's right: 50's.
The 50's will be invading Hotlanta next week. Sure it is high 50's and yes it still looks kind of humid but you know what?
That's right: People do need a sweater when it gets in the 50's. So it should be good.
Oh, but what will I do if have no weather excuses to complain about and blame my crappy runs on? No worries. I am certain something will come up. . .
So here it is: 18 miles in the humid, misty and rainy 75 degrees yesterday and 12 miles in the stale humid air today. I am looking at similar conditions for my long run and other runs the rest of this week too. And man, it sure does feel like we are waiting on a hurricane-- and at this point I might welcome it because then at least there would be a breeze.
Oh, but next week. It will get me by-- just the promise of it. You know you can always depend on the forecast 10 days out (Sarcasm people. Love it.)
Fall is closing in.
(I hope.)
Bring on the marathons!!!
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Underachievers of the World Unite: A New Leader is Found
I imagine that if the underachievers of the world could motivate to get themselves organized and were to set out on a search for their leader as the Buddhists do for the Dalai Lama then I would come home from a run one day and find them all lined up outside my house; ready to administer a series of uncomplicated and incomplete tests on Beau to see if he is indeed the chosen one.
And undoubtedly he would be deemed the chosen one.
After all, I have to think, as the youngest child of parents, both classic underachievers themselves one with ADD (me) and one with Dyslexia (Ryan) it is his destiny. It is Carmella who is the surprise and if she didn't look so much like us I would think there was some kind of mix up at the hospital.
Two months ago I mentioned that I was going to make a "chore chart" and they would have to follow it. Beau's only comment was that the idea was "lame" but Carmella perked right up wanting to know how I was planning on organizing it and could she help? Would it be a big chart or a small chart? And she had lots of ideas of what could go on the chore chart and expressed how much fun it was going to be to have one. And at least once a week she asks me about the chart; when am I going to make it.
And just in case there are any other underachiever parents out there I found this website and the kids can earn points by doing chores and buy clothes for virtual kitties--or something like that. (Sort of like Webkinz world but you don't actually have to buy and populate your house with bazillions of stuffed animals.) I figure, hey, whatever can get Beau to brush his teeth, make his bed and pick up his toys. And yes I think this website is more of a motivator for the already motivated child but I couldn't find a "purchase arms and take over the world" reward chore chart. Weird how they wouldn't make something like that because that would totally motivate Beau.
I know I am being one of those parents who compare their children but really they are so vastly different it completely boggles me. I just don't even understand how I ended up with Carmella. She is an absolute mystery to me (and clearly an example of recessive genes.) I spent my life being threatened with "someday I hope you grow up and have a child just like you!" And then I get Carmella. The joke there isn't on me; it is on Lala. But then I had Beau and the universe evened stuff out and Lala got her karma.
Parenting Beau is like getting to watch a movie of my childhood but to protect my identity the role has been changed to a blond boy instead of a scragally haired spaztic little girl.
And as frustrating as it is to deal with Beau at times I will admit there is bit of a comfort zone there for me; I wholly understand the grain from which he is cut.
By far the most frustrating aspect of parenting Beau has involved school. Unless you have a learning disability or you have a child that has a learning disability you can't begin to understand what it is like to have to deal with academic institutions. And, I have to admit that I feel like I am getting the short end of the stick here. I mean, I spent most of my life fighting an uphill battle in the school system because I am not one of those "traditional learners" and now I have to do it all over again with my kid. Big huge sigh.
I have known since Beau was 2 and we first discovered his speech problem (phonological processing disorder) that school was probably not going to be easy for him (or me). Add to that being one of the youngest in the class and you compound the problem. Red shirting him-- as many parents of boys with summer birthdays choose to do-- just wasn't an option since speech therapy was a priority--and academically he was "ready". Even socially, I was told, he was head of the curve.
Just to be clear, I absolutely do not regret sending Beau to kindergarten a few weeks after he turned 5 because we are now able to understand 100% of what he says. He made massive progress last year. More progress than he made in speech the previous 3 years combined. Beau going to kindergarten when he was 5 was the absolute right choice and so far not one single person at that school has told me otherwise.
So, to be clear, Beau's problem is not one of immaturity or not being smart enough and while there may very well be the ADD diagnosis looming in our quickly approaching future his immediate issue is one of compliance. And whether that is an aspect of ADD or just personality the fact of the matter (that I know all too well) is that in the school setting it does not matter. It won't matter if I hold him back a year or send him to a pricey private school or pump him full of Ritalin. He will have to learn to follow the rules.
I know and his teacher knows that he knows what to do; what is expected of him but often flat out chooses not to do it. Absolutely he is a high energy kid but I have seen him sit still; I have seen him listen and follow directions. But for who knows what reason, sometimes he really just doesn't want to do as told and often will expend more energy trying to convince some one else to do it for him or even better; argue why he shouldn't have to do anything at all.
The beginning of every school year is the worst. I view it as Beau's "breaking in period." He is trying to figure out right away what and how much he can get away with. You'd think he would just know that every year the rules are basically the same; i.e: sitting still, following directions, picking up after yourself, doing your work etc. But he just can't help himself and has to try to see how little he can get by with. He even told me the first week of school that "the teachers go easy on the kids the first few weeks. I don't have to try so hard yet."
Every year I warn his teachers about his lack of compliance (along with the potential ADD possibility) and to please be extra strict with him. Boundaries and structure are Beau's best friend (and worst enemy). I warn them that he will try to charm them with kisses and hugs and by being funny. Don't fall for it, I tell them. But mostly importantly I explain: do not laugh or smile if you are cross with him. He reads body language before he hears words so you must not contradict what you say with your face. He will not take you seriously if you are fighting a smile.
I assure them that I will "fight the battles" at home but tell them that they will have to fight the battle at school with him. He isn't a bad kid but he is manipulative and likes to feel he is in control. Some how he figured out early on that just because you have to follow the rules with one person doesn't mean you can't try to do it your way with another.
Nevertheless here we are a month into the new school year and Beau is back to his usual ways. He learned in preschool (and kindergarten) that you can get away with one naughty day a week so long as you are gold the other 5 days. The idea of being golden all 5 days just has never occurred to him. If you can still get rewards on 4 days of good behavior why would you bother to be compliant all 5 days? That's just dumb.
I had to explain this to his teacher when she called me on Tuesday because Beau was on a "4". In his class they have a banana. It moves up and down the tree branches (numbered 1-5)based on their behavior that day. They start out each day at a "2" and if they stay there that means they had a "great" day. If they do something extra special they get to move up to a "1". The teacher explained that "1" is a rarity. Beau has been on "1" once so far. A 3 means they are not making the best choices and is a warning. You can redeem yourself and move back to a 2 by correcting your poor choices. I think most days Beau has to spend some time correcting his choices. A 4 means the choices were not corrected and you miss some of minutes from recess and you will get a note or a phone call home. 5 is just really bad and means a trip to the principals and possible being sent home.
Beau got on 4 the other day because all day he flat out refused to do his work. By the end of the day he knew that he was going to be in trouble when he got home and knew would have extra homework. Being on anything but a 2 means no Nintendo Ds and extra homework. My thinking is that if you are getting in trouble at school then you are not doing work and therefore need to make up for that at home. How much extra homework you have to do depends on how much trouble you got in at school. Beau knew he was looking at a long time of homework. For the record I do not take away playing outside. I think it is important for high energy people to get to run around. Instead I take away the privilege of being able to play with his friends on the days he gets in trouble. Playing alone is punishment for Beau. He loves his little friends.
Anyway, on Tuesday his teacher called me because Beau was very upset by the end of the day because he was still on 4 and knew he was in deep do-do. She explained what happened and even told me that he tried to bribe the student teacher with money to move his banana back up the tree. My first concern was that maybe the work was too hard for him but she assured me it wasn't--that he has been doing fine. I then addressed the ADD angle and that having to sit still can be incredibly difficult for him. She told me that she recognized that and allows him to move around the classroom provided that he is listening and not distracting other children.
So I sighed and apologized for him "taking more than his share of the teacher's attention" and assured her that he and I would be having a conversation. I also told her about his 4 "on" days and one "off" day each week. I told her I didn't support it but that has so far been his credo. And she said she could concede to one bad day a week with Beau. I think that is pretty terrible that Beau has manipulated not only me but also his teacher into accepting that he gets an off day. Do they have military school for six year olds? Cause I think that is what we need.
Well at any rate Beau made it through the rest of last week all on "2" so he was true to form with his one bad day. At dinner on Friday he further supported his "aim low" credo with this conversation:
Ryan, noticing a hand out on the refrigerator about the upcoming CogAT test. "Looks like you are going to have test next week Beau. You better try your best."
Beau, immediately stressed and surprised "What?! I got no test. First graders don't take tests!" hmm maybe he isn't paying attention . . .
Carmella pipes up, "It is for Target. If you do good on it you get to go to Target." Target is the talented and gifted program. A program I was never a part of and yet I am so clearly not only talented but also gifted. Extraordinarily so, I would add. Emphasis on the "extra" not the ordinary.
Beau, wide eyed and about to pee in his pants says, "You mean I get to shoot stuff?"
Carmella starts to explain that you get to go to extra projects and stuff but Ryan, stifling laughter quips "No, it means you have to do more work." Ryan was also not in Target either.
Beau, shrugs and says" Oh, well I am not going to try and do good on that test then."
I'm telling you, it has got to be genetic but I am trying to break the cycle. Granted, not with grand gestures; but baby steps--so to speak. This card carrying lifelong underachiever pushed the envelope with training and finished last week just over 73 miles. For the past six weeks I've been pushing my miles over my "50 miles per week" comfort zone and finally made into the 70's. I've tried the less is more approach to marathoning and now I am giving the more is more approach a try. Whether or not that equates success at Rocket City in December remains to be seen but hey, it is worth a shot. Maybe Beau will adopt a similar attitude. Hopefully it will be sooner for him that it has been for me.
And undoubtedly he would be deemed the chosen one.
After all, I have to think, as the youngest child of parents, both classic underachievers themselves one with ADD (me) and one with Dyslexia (Ryan) it is his destiny. It is Carmella who is the surprise and if she didn't look so much like us I would think there was some kind of mix up at the hospital.
Two months ago I mentioned that I was going to make a "chore chart" and they would have to follow it. Beau's only comment was that the idea was "lame" but Carmella perked right up wanting to know how I was planning on organizing it and could she help? Would it be a big chart or a small chart? And she had lots of ideas of what could go on the chore chart and expressed how much fun it was going to be to have one. And at least once a week she asks me about the chart; when am I going to make it.
And just in case there are any other underachiever parents out there I found this website and the kids can earn points by doing chores and buy clothes for virtual kitties--or something like that. (Sort of like Webkinz world but you don't actually have to buy and populate your house with bazillions of stuffed animals.) I figure, hey, whatever can get Beau to brush his teeth, make his bed and pick up his toys. And yes I think this website is more of a motivator for the already motivated child but I couldn't find a "purchase arms and take over the world" reward chore chart. Weird how they wouldn't make something like that because that would totally motivate Beau.
I know I am being one of those parents who compare their children but really they are so vastly different it completely boggles me. I just don't even understand how I ended up with Carmella. She is an absolute mystery to me (and clearly an example of recessive genes.) I spent my life being threatened with "someday I hope you grow up and have a child just like you!" And then I get Carmella. The joke there isn't on me; it is on Lala. But then I had Beau and the universe evened stuff out and Lala got her karma.
Parenting Beau is like getting to watch a movie of my childhood but to protect my identity the role has been changed to a blond boy instead of a scragally haired spaztic little girl.
And as frustrating as it is to deal with Beau at times I will admit there is bit of a comfort zone there for me; I wholly understand the grain from which he is cut.
By far the most frustrating aspect of parenting Beau has involved school. Unless you have a learning disability or you have a child that has a learning disability you can't begin to understand what it is like to have to deal with academic institutions. And, I have to admit that I feel like I am getting the short end of the stick here. I mean, I spent most of my life fighting an uphill battle in the school system because I am not one of those "traditional learners" and now I have to do it all over again with my kid. Big huge sigh.
I have known since Beau was 2 and we first discovered his speech problem (phonological processing disorder) that school was probably not going to be easy for him (or me). Add to that being one of the youngest in the class and you compound the problem. Red shirting him-- as many parents of boys with summer birthdays choose to do-- just wasn't an option since speech therapy was a priority--and academically he was "ready". Even socially, I was told, he was head of the curve.
Just to be clear, I absolutely do not regret sending Beau to kindergarten a few weeks after he turned 5 because we are now able to understand 100% of what he says. He made massive progress last year. More progress than he made in speech the previous 3 years combined. Beau going to kindergarten when he was 5 was the absolute right choice and so far not one single person at that school has told me otherwise.
So, to be clear, Beau's problem is not one of immaturity or not being smart enough and while there may very well be the ADD diagnosis looming in our quickly approaching future his immediate issue is one of compliance. And whether that is an aspect of ADD or just personality the fact of the matter (that I know all too well) is that in the school setting it does not matter. It won't matter if I hold him back a year or send him to a pricey private school or pump him full of Ritalin. He will have to learn to follow the rules.
I know and his teacher knows that he knows what to do; what is expected of him but often flat out chooses not to do it. Absolutely he is a high energy kid but I have seen him sit still; I have seen him listen and follow directions. But for who knows what reason, sometimes he really just doesn't want to do as told and often will expend more energy trying to convince some one else to do it for him or even better; argue why he shouldn't have to do anything at all.
The beginning of every school year is the worst. I view it as Beau's "breaking in period." He is trying to figure out right away what and how much he can get away with. You'd think he would just know that every year the rules are basically the same; i.e: sitting still, following directions, picking up after yourself, doing your work etc. But he just can't help himself and has to try to see how little he can get by with. He even told me the first week of school that "the teachers go easy on the kids the first few weeks. I don't have to try so hard yet."
Every year I warn his teachers about his lack of compliance (along with the potential ADD possibility) and to please be extra strict with him. Boundaries and structure are Beau's best friend (and worst enemy). I warn them that he will try to charm them with kisses and hugs and by being funny. Don't fall for it, I tell them. But mostly importantly I explain: do not laugh or smile if you are cross with him. He reads body language before he hears words so you must not contradict what you say with your face. He will not take you seriously if you are fighting a smile.
I assure them that I will "fight the battles" at home but tell them that they will have to fight the battle at school with him. He isn't a bad kid but he is manipulative and likes to feel he is in control. Some how he figured out early on that just because you have to follow the rules with one person doesn't mean you can't try to do it your way with another.
Nevertheless here we are a month into the new school year and Beau is back to his usual ways. He learned in preschool (and kindergarten) that you can get away with one naughty day a week so long as you are gold the other 5 days. The idea of being golden all 5 days just has never occurred to him. If you can still get rewards on 4 days of good behavior why would you bother to be compliant all 5 days? That's just dumb.
I had to explain this to his teacher when she called me on Tuesday because Beau was on a "4". In his class they have a banana. It moves up and down the tree branches (numbered 1-5)based on their behavior that day. They start out each day at a "2" and if they stay there that means they had a "great" day. If they do something extra special they get to move up to a "1". The teacher explained that "1" is a rarity. Beau has been on "1" once so far. A 3 means they are not making the best choices and is a warning. You can redeem yourself and move back to a 2 by correcting your poor choices. I think most days Beau has to spend some time correcting his choices. A 4 means the choices were not corrected and you miss some of minutes from recess and you will get a note or a phone call home. 5 is just really bad and means a trip to the principals and possible being sent home.
Beau got on 4 the other day because all day he flat out refused to do his work. By the end of the day he knew that he was going to be in trouble when he got home and knew would have extra homework. Being on anything but a 2 means no Nintendo Ds and extra homework. My thinking is that if you are getting in trouble at school then you are not doing work and therefore need to make up for that at home. How much extra homework you have to do depends on how much trouble you got in at school. Beau knew he was looking at a long time of homework. For the record I do not take away playing outside. I think it is important for high energy people to get to run around. Instead I take away the privilege of being able to play with his friends on the days he gets in trouble. Playing alone is punishment for Beau. He loves his little friends.
Anyway, on Tuesday his teacher called me because Beau was very upset by the end of the day because he was still on 4 and knew he was in deep do-do. She explained what happened and even told me that he tried to bribe the student teacher with money to move his banana back up the tree. My first concern was that maybe the work was too hard for him but she assured me it wasn't--that he has been doing fine. I then addressed the ADD angle and that having to sit still can be incredibly difficult for him. She told me that she recognized that and allows him to move around the classroom provided that he is listening and not distracting other children.
So I sighed and apologized for him "taking more than his share of the teacher's attention" and assured her that he and I would be having a conversation. I also told her about his 4 "on" days and one "off" day each week. I told her I didn't support it but that has so far been his credo. And she said she could concede to one bad day a week with Beau. I think that is pretty terrible that Beau has manipulated not only me but also his teacher into accepting that he gets an off day. Do they have military school for six year olds? Cause I think that is what we need.
Well at any rate Beau made it through the rest of last week all on "2" so he was true to form with his one bad day. At dinner on Friday he further supported his "aim low" credo with this conversation:
Ryan, noticing a hand out on the refrigerator about the upcoming CogAT test. "Looks like you are going to have test next week Beau. You better try your best."
Beau, immediately stressed and surprised "What?! I got no test. First graders don't take tests!" hmm maybe he isn't paying attention . . .
Carmella pipes up, "It is for Target. If you do good on it you get to go to Target." Target is the talented and gifted program. A program I was never a part of and yet I am so clearly not only talented but also gifted. Extraordinarily so, I would add. Emphasis on the "extra" not the ordinary.
Beau, wide eyed and about to pee in his pants says, "You mean I get to shoot stuff?"
Carmella starts to explain that you get to go to extra projects and stuff but Ryan, stifling laughter quips "No, it means you have to do more work." Ryan was also not in Target either.
Beau, shrugs and says" Oh, well I am not going to try and do good on that test then."
I'm telling you, it has got to be genetic but I am trying to break the cycle. Granted, not with grand gestures; but baby steps--so to speak. This card carrying lifelong underachiever pushed the envelope with training and finished last week just over 73 miles. For the past six weeks I've been pushing my miles over my "50 miles per week" comfort zone and finally made into the 70's. I've tried the less is more approach to marathoning and now I am giving the more is more approach a try. Whether or not that equates success at Rocket City in December remains to be seen but hey, it is worth a shot. Maybe Beau will adopt a similar attitude. Hopefully it will be sooner for him that it has been for me.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Excuses Are Always Easy to Come By
There are always reasons why we can't do something, don't do something or didn't do something. Reason is just a kind word for excuse though. There is a saying: The person that really wants to do something finds a way; the other person finds an excuse.
I am the queen--okay princess, of finding excuses. I just can't help it: they come so easily. The tough part is seeing past the excuses to the object of my desire and reconciling what I have to do (and don't want to do) to make it happen.
A long time ago I dated a man who said to me, probably during some fight; "You always get your way." Now, I will maintain that this is absolutely irrefutably not true but yes; I do strive to get my way. I am sure he was trying to hurt me or make me feel guilty by making such a comment but mostly I was just perplexed by it: as I've always been under the impression that everyone wants to "always have their way". Why would you fault them for that--you know on being human? At any rate I didn't do the girl thing and apologize or feel guilty for "always wanting to have my way". I just said, "and your point?" It is easy to see why that relationship didn't work out.
Oh, and this is most definitely not to say that Ryan lets me have my way all the time. Most times I think we just agree or we bicker until the most stubborn one wins. And trust me, Ryan is more stubborn than me. I will admit though to being the more manipulative one.
I am getting off topic and taking this in a different direction. The point I am trying to make is that I struggle every second of the day with excuses to not do something. My inclination is ALWAYS to take the easy or lazy way out. I can always come up with an excuse. But I am certain that the path to success is not paved with excuses. As a result I have to have not daily but pretty much minute to minute pep talks to keep myself on track--on that path towards success.
It is no secret that I want to be a better a runner. There are certain things I am not willing to give up to be that better runner (beer) but I am willing to work really hard in training to get myself there. Right now that means consistently running and running more than I ran last year.
I have been on my way to 70 mile weeks and I am looking towards later this fall for some 80 mile weeks. I was hoping that this week would be my first week in the 70's this year (I had 2 weeks last fall in the 70's and ended up with an over training injury).
Unfortunately having a sick child this week derailed my run 70 miles plan. I tried my best to not use that as an excuse but fact of the matter is that my kids take priority and everything else has to fall to the side when they need me. Running is important to me but I am not so addicted that I can't separate out what should (and does!) take priority. And just because I do know where my priorities are does not mean that I will not grumble when I have to miss a run. I just cannot help that I am a little childish. In the end I do the adult thing but I do it pouting and stamping my foot. Unfortunately, it is unrealistic to say that I am immature at 38 so I think we should all agree that this is just a less than glamorous aspect of my personatalie.
And btw, Carmella is MUCH better. Thank you for your concerns. The tamiflu is working. She still has her cough but she has her appetite back, energy back, has no fever, no vomiting etc. And Beau luckily has not gotten sick-- nor me. Ryan is out of town so I assume he got out before the sickness got him.
So back to the point (I am getting there! You know it takes me forever)--I was on the right track to hit 70 miles this week. Sunday was a rest day. Monday I ran 15 miles, Tuesday I ended up running 10. My plan had been 6 and a swim but my shoulder still hurt (from trying to ski) and I figured if it was bothering me while I ran it was going to hurt like hell trying to swim. So I ran the time I would have spent swimming. Wednesday I was suppose to run with Kate for 10 or so miles at Kennesaw Mountain but I took Carmella to the doctor instead. Ryan was home in the afternoon and I managed to get 12 miles in. I had to bail on my planned 7 miles for Thursday since she was still sick and Ryan was out of town. And because of that I knew there was no way I could reasonably squeeze 43 miles in 2 days to hit 70 miles for the week.
And that's okay, I still have plenty of time to run 70 miles other weeks. But I still needed to stay on track and I couldn't afford to cut back mileage too much this week. Luckily Lala offered to watch Carmella today so I could get my long run in after all.
My plan all week had been 21 on Friday. Maybe a little more if I felt up to it. Last night my sleep was interrupted by my dog (who never barks at anything) barking her head off at 2 am. I got up to investigate and nothing. Crazy dog. Last time she barked--a couple of months ago--it was at a plastic bag blowing through the yard. Huskies are so weird.
At any rate I was up for a few hours trying to get back to sleep. 6 am came extra early today. I could already feel the no way can I run 21 miles today on so little sleep excuse forming. And then as I checked the morning's weather I could read the I do not want to run for 3 hours in the pouring rain and potential lightening excuse underneath the 100% rain and cloud with lightening icon. And the litany of excuses began to flow easily, quickly into my psyche.
They even came with a rant: I am so freaking sick of running in crappy weather! I have endured 6 long runs this summer in the heat, rain, humidity etc. I am tired of running shoes that are wet from monsoon rains or from the ridiculous amount of sweat that streams off my body. Wet shoes at the end of three hour run are freaking heavy. Not to mention the humidity makes you feel like you are running with 20lbs of wet towels draped over your body. I am tired of sucking it up; hardening the fuck up. Not to mention lightening storms are kind of a deal breaker for me. I am just scared I am going to get struck the whole time--because I do have that kind of luck--and I am, after all, a mother! I can't be risking my life like that.
So see, there was even the I can bail on this run because I hardened the fuck up all those other times.
Lala graciously offered to watch the kids Saturday so that I could do the run tomorrow in better weather. And see that right there is an example of an enabler of excuses. And enabler lets you feel okay about making excuses. And I will tell you it is okay to make excuses; you just need to own up to them and recognize them for what they are.
Luckily, I realized-- considering how this week has gone--that something else is bound to happen so I wasn't comfortable with my excuse being enabled. I could already see the potential building for more excuses. See, I do like sticking to my plan even if I constantly seek out reasons to not have to stick to my plan. I know. It is all very confusing!
It occurred to me-- as I weighed it out--that I did have another alternative; the treadmill at the gym. The longest I have ever run on the treadmill was about an hour and fourteen minutes. I was in a pinch that time and I needed to get a 10 mile run done. I think that was the fastest I have ever run 10 miles in training. Now, I do like the treadmill--for short runs. But I rarely make it an entire hour on there.
So the possibility of me ever doing a long run on the treadmill was an impossibility. I have often marveled at those that can do long runs on the treadmill. I have done marathons and long runs in every kind of weather: sub freezing, hot, humid, rainy, snow, ice --even under the threat of tornadoes. I think that alone says how much I do not want to do a long run on the treadmill.
I debated for an hour. Back and forth with rain, tomorrow, treadmill. And finally the treadmill won out. Today I decided that being bored for 3 hours sounded better than being wet, hot and miserable for 3 hours or potentially risking not getting it done tomorrow. Once I made my decision I made a deal with myself: 3 hours or 21 miles--whichever comes first. And quite honestly I didn't know if I had the will to do either.
I was very slow going getting to the gym. I even drove the speed limit. I walked as slow as I could possibly manage through the gym up to the treadmills without someone thinking I was injured. I even made eye contact with strangers hoping someone would chat me up--no one did. I kept looking around, hoping someone was there that I knew and I could stall even longer by passing more time making social niceties.
Then, once I made it to the aerobic area, I was like Goldilocks trying to find the absolute perfect treadmill that I would be able to stand for 3 hours. The first one I tried I wasn't happy with what was on the TV and got off after a minute. So I moved to the other bank of treadmills.
My gym is kind of hot--not as hot as outside but not as cool as I keep the air-conditioning in my house. And it gets kind of humid--all those sweaty people. And the treadmills are upstairs. But they do have these giant fans set up here and there around the aerobic equipment to help cool it down and circulate air. When I have the opportunity I will commandeer one and position it so it blows directly on my back. These fans are big and cumbersome and not at all easy to move. But they are totally worth it. They also keep the treadmill from looking like it is sweating right along with me.
There were two treadmills that would work that had view of the TV station I wanted to watch and close to a fan.(I of course had my ipod to listen to and all the people pretending to lift weights to watch but I need MANY distractions on the treadmill.) The only problem was that there was a woman on the treadmill next to my first choice. The fan I needed to use cord didn't quite stretch to my second choice. But I didn't want to bother the lady on the treadmill next to my first choice. In the past some people have gotten mad at me when I turned on the fan. They are the people who walk on the treadmill and read a book so I don't think they understand exactly how hot it can get. And the woman was there first. Also, since she was there first and I didn't know how long she was going to be there I thought it would be even more rude to get on the one next to her (when there were plenty of empty ones available) and sling my sweat all over her. Of course she probably would have gotten off sooner . . .
So I got on second choice treadmill with less ideal fan wind. I ran for about 6 minutes and the lady on the other treadmill left. So I switched and started over and adjusted the fan. Perfect.
I have to say once I finally got everything just right this turned out to be the most luxurious long run I have ever done. I didn't have to carry anything since treadmills have cup holders. I had the wind at my back. It was 15 degrees cooler than I have been running in. And, best of all; there were no hills! Save the Museum of Aviation marathon I have NEVER done a flat long run.
From my vantage point I could see the rain, which is always lovely to look at--I just don't enjoy running for several hours in it. I could also see pretty much the whole gym. And then the show The Doctors was on. I really didn't pay much attention to it but I do like looking at the hot doctor that is on that show. I don't know why the doctors I go to see don't look like that. Makes me feel a little cheated. I also had a view of Fox News.
The only real downside to this was that the treadmills at my gym shut off after 60 minutes. But this wasn't a huge problem since on my long runs I have to stop for water breaks, to pee or buy Gatorade. Lately, because it has been so hot, I've been stopping 3 times--sometimes for up to 5 minutes just so that I can make sure I don't spontaneously burst into flames. I am not kidding. 3 weeks ago I spent some extra time in Walgreens with as much of my body as I could get into their freezer.
My goal was 7 miles an hour. This is faster than I have been running 21 miles this summer but not faster than I was running 21 miles last spring/winter/fall. So it was a little optimistic and hence the "3 hours or 21 miles" deal.
First hour--once I finally got the right treadmill--was awesome. I tried to be conservative because I didn't want to wear myself out in the first hour. My first mile was a little over 9 minutes. And would be the slowest mile I ran today. The hour ended with me running 7.37 miles. About an 8:10 avg pace.
I hopped off because I dying to pee. Unfortunately the bathroom at my gym is down stairs but I figured that would help keep the blood flowing. I peed, ran back up stairs, did a few lunges and hopped back on.
Since I was good and warmed up I didn't need to start with the nine minute mile. I started at an 8:34 pace and pressed buttons up and down for the hour between 8:34 and 7:20 pace. I started having the GU I brought. I do better if I take it over a few miles. I had finished it by the time I got to 10.5 miles and I was super excited to be half way done.
I was feeling really good-- so good I started to get some wild ideas. I was thinking about how Joe Reger had run 23 miles the other day in 3:21. I started think I could totally beat that today! Kick his skinny, younger and fitter Ironman ass with my awesome treadmill in air conditioning run. Then I had the even grander delusion of running 26.2 miles, musing that maybe, you know if I really started to push it I could run a marathon PR today. On the treadmill! How cool would that be?! Awesome.
There was still that part of my brain that wasn't yet totally stupid and it finally piped up with a "why don't you wait until you start the 3rd hour before you think about such things."
I ended the second hour at 7.52 miles for an average 7:58 pace. I was pretty happy to be at that mileage and still felt pretty good. I hopped off the treadmill and did a few lunges. My quads were starting to sing a little and my knees were missing the hills but other wise I felt pretty good. No different than I have been feeling at that point on my long runs this summer.
I got back on and started into the 3rd hour. I started out at an 8:44 pace and it felt horrible. It made everything hurt. After the first mile I sped up. The 7:53 pace felt best; most natural but I was having to work kind of hard--harder than I normally work in the last miles (but then again lately I have not been running 7:53 pace at all during a long run). I played around the pace--going back down to 8:20 for a few minutes and then back under 8 minute miles towards 7:30 pace. It really felt more comfortable at a sub 8 pace than at 8:20ish. But it was hard--my heart rate was creeping up. I was getting tired and was getting "done" with being on the treadmill.
I started doing the math. How much longer and how much further? I added up the first 2 hours miles: 7.37 and 7.52. So 14.89. So 6.11. At first I estimated that I would probably hit the 6.11 that I needed to get to 21 miles in 53 minutes. Let tell me you at 23 minutes-- another 30 minutes sounded like an eternity so I started running as hard as I could manage just so I could get done.
I was getting sloppy. I kept spilling my Powerade all over me every time I took a sip but I still was holding the sub-8 pace. I was a constant clock watcher. My eyes darting from the minutes to miles and then pressing buttons and changing the pace, then changing the song on my ipod, back to changing the pace--anything to make it feel like time was passing faster. Finally I was almost to 6 miles and started to speed up and kind of just closed my eyes. Not really, but maybe. When I allowed myself to look I was at 6.07. It was like counting down to New Years Eve. I hit stop at 6.12--just in case my math had been a little off. Time? 48 minutes and 22 seconds. 7:54 average pace.
Holy Negative Split BatNat! 21 miles in 2:48:22! 8:01 average pace. I think the fastest I have ever run a 21 mile training run was in 2:53. So maybe, just maybe 3:20 at Rocket City isn't so unrealistic after all. But we'll see. I am just happy that I did not let the excuses win today. I know this is a tiny victory over them but hey at least I got one battle won this week. Now, I've got 15 more weeks of battles to wage.
I am the queen--okay princess, of finding excuses. I just can't help it: they come so easily. The tough part is seeing past the excuses to the object of my desire and reconciling what I have to do (and don't want to do) to make it happen.
A long time ago I dated a man who said to me, probably during some fight; "You always get your way." Now, I will maintain that this is absolutely irrefutably not true but yes; I do strive to get my way. I am sure he was trying to hurt me or make me feel guilty by making such a comment but mostly I was just perplexed by it: as I've always been under the impression that everyone wants to "always have their way". Why would you fault them for that--you know on being human? At any rate I didn't do the girl thing and apologize or feel guilty for "always wanting to have my way". I just said, "and your point?" It is easy to see why that relationship didn't work out.
Oh, and this is most definitely not to say that Ryan lets me have my way all the time. Most times I think we just agree or we bicker until the most stubborn one wins. And trust me, Ryan is more stubborn than me. I will admit though to being the more manipulative one.
I am getting off topic and taking this in a different direction. The point I am trying to make is that I struggle every second of the day with excuses to not do something. My inclination is ALWAYS to take the easy or lazy way out. I can always come up with an excuse. But I am certain that the path to success is not paved with excuses. As a result I have to have not daily but pretty much minute to minute pep talks to keep myself on track--on that path towards success.
It is no secret that I want to be a better a runner. There are certain things I am not willing to give up to be that better runner (beer) but I am willing to work really hard in training to get myself there. Right now that means consistently running and running more than I ran last year.
I have been on my way to 70 mile weeks and I am looking towards later this fall for some 80 mile weeks. I was hoping that this week would be my first week in the 70's this year (I had 2 weeks last fall in the 70's and ended up with an over training injury).
Unfortunately having a sick child this week derailed my run 70 miles plan. I tried my best to not use that as an excuse but fact of the matter is that my kids take priority and everything else has to fall to the side when they need me. Running is important to me but I am not so addicted that I can't separate out what should (and does!) take priority. And just because I do know where my priorities are does not mean that I will not grumble when I have to miss a run. I just cannot help that I am a little childish. In the end I do the adult thing but I do it pouting and stamping my foot. Unfortunately, it is unrealistic to say that I am immature at 38 so I think we should all agree that this is just a less than glamorous aspect of my personatalie.
And btw, Carmella is MUCH better. Thank you for your concerns. The tamiflu is working. She still has her cough but she has her appetite back, energy back, has no fever, no vomiting etc. And Beau luckily has not gotten sick-- nor me. Ryan is out of town so I assume he got out before the sickness got him.
So back to the point (I am getting there! You know it takes me forever)--I was on the right track to hit 70 miles this week. Sunday was a rest day. Monday I ran 15 miles, Tuesday I ended up running 10. My plan had been 6 and a swim but my shoulder still hurt (from trying to ski) and I figured if it was bothering me while I ran it was going to hurt like hell trying to swim. So I ran the time I would have spent swimming. Wednesday I was suppose to run with Kate for 10 or so miles at Kennesaw Mountain but I took Carmella to the doctor instead. Ryan was home in the afternoon and I managed to get 12 miles in. I had to bail on my planned 7 miles for Thursday since she was still sick and Ryan was out of town. And because of that I knew there was no way I could reasonably squeeze 43 miles in 2 days to hit 70 miles for the week.
And that's okay, I still have plenty of time to run 70 miles other weeks. But I still needed to stay on track and I couldn't afford to cut back mileage too much this week. Luckily Lala offered to watch Carmella today so I could get my long run in after all.
My plan all week had been 21 on Friday. Maybe a little more if I felt up to it. Last night my sleep was interrupted by my dog (who never barks at anything) barking her head off at 2 am. I got up to investigate and nothing. Crazy dog. Last time she barked--a couple of months ago--it was at a plastic bag blowing through the yard. Huskies are so weird.
At any rate I was up for a few hours trying to get back to sleep. 6 am came extra early today. I could already feel the no way can I run 21 miles today on so little sleep excuse forming. And then as I checked the morning's weather I could read the I do not want to run for 3 hours in the pouring rain and potential lightening excuse underneath the 100% rain and cloud with lightening icon. And the litany of excuses began to flow easily, quickly into my psyche.
They even came with a rant: I am so freaking sick of running in crappy weather! I have endured 6 long runs this summer in the heat, rain, humidity etc. I am tired of running shoes that are wet from monsoon rains or from the ridiculous amount of sweat that streams off my body. Wet shoes at the end of three hour run are freaking heavy. Not to mention the humidity makes you feel like you are running with 20lbs of wet towels draped over your body. I am tired of sucking it up; hardening the fuck up. Not to mention lightening storms are kind of a deal breaker for me. I am just scared I am going to get struck the whole time--because I do have that kind of luck--and I am, after all, a mother! I can't be risking my life like that.
So see, there was even the I can bail on this run because I hardened the fuck up all those other times.
Lala graciously offered to watch the kids Saturday so that I could do the run tomorrow in better weather. And see that right there is an example of an enabler of excuses. And enabler lets you feel okay about making excuses. And I will tell you it is okay to make excuses; you just need to own up to them and recognize them for what they are.
Luckily, I realized-- considering how this week has gone--that something else is bound to happen so I wasn't comfortable with my excuse being enabled. I could already see the potential building for more excuses. See, I do like sticking to my plan even if I constantly seek out reasons to not have to stick to my plan. I know. It is all very confusing!
It occurred to me-- as I weighed it out--that I did have another alternative; the treadmill at the gym. The longest I have ever run on the treadmill was about an hour and fourteen minutes. I was in a pinch that time and I needed to get a 10 mile run done. I think that was the fastest I have ever run 10 miles in training. Now, I do like the treadmill--for short runs. But I rarely make it an entire hour on there.
So the possibility of me ever doing a long run on the treadmill was an impossibility. I have often marveled at those that can do long runs on the treadmill. I have done marathons and long runs in every kind of weather: sub freezing, hot, humid, rainy, snow, ice --even under the threat of tornadoes. I think that alone says how much I do not want to do a long run on the treadmill.
I debated for an hour. Back and forth with rain, tomorrow, treadmill. And finally the treadmill won out. Today I decided that being bored for 3 hours sounded better than being wet, hot and miserable for 3 hours or potentially risking not getting it done tomorrow. Once I made my decision I made a deal with myself: 3 hours or 21 miles--whichever comes first. And quite honestly I didn't know if I had the will to do either.
I was very slow going getting to the gym. I even drove the speed limit. I walked as slow as I could possibly manage through the gym up to the treadmills without someone thinking I was injured. I even made eye contact with strangers hoping someone would chat me up--no one did. I kept looking around, hoping someone was there that I knew and I could stall even longer by passing more time making social niceties.
Then, once I made it to the aerobic area, I was like Goldilocks trying to find the absolute perfect treadmill that I would be able to stand for 3 hours. The first one I tried I wasn't happy with what was on the TV and got off after a minute. So I moved to the other bank of treadmills.
My gym is kind of hot--not as hot as outside but not as cool as I keep the air-conditioning in my house. And it gets kind of humid--all those sweaty people. And the treadmills are upstairs. But they do have these giant fans set up here and there around the aerobic equipment to help cool it down and circulate air. When I have the opportunity I will commandeer one and position it so it blows directly on my back. These fans are big and cumbersome and not at all easy to move. But they are totally worth it. They also keep the treadmill from looking like it is sweating right along with me.
There were two treadmills that would work that had view of the TV station I wanted to watch and close to a fan.(I of course had my ipod to listen to and all the people pretending to lift weights to watch but I need MANY distractions on the treadmill.) The only problem was that there was a woman on the treadmill next to my first choice. The fan I needed to use cord didn't quite stretch to my second choice. But I didn't want to bother the lady on the treadmill next to my first choice. In the past some people have gotten mad at me when I turned on the fan. They are the people who walk on the treadmill and read a book so I don't think they understand exactly how hot it can get. And the woman was there first. Also, since she was there first and I didn't know how long she was going to be there I thought it would be even more rude to get on the one next to her (when there were plenty of empty ones available) and sling my sweat all over her. Of course she probably would have gotten off sooner . . .
So I got on second choice treadmill with less ideal fan wind. I ran for about 6 minutes and the lady on the other treadmill left. So I switched and started over and adjusted the fan. Perfect.
I have to say once I finally got everything just right this turned out to be the most luxurious long run I have ever done. I didn't have to carry anything since treadmills have cup holders. I had the wind at my back. It was 15 degrees cooler than I have been running in. And, best of all; there were no hills! Save the Museum of Aviation marathon I have NEVER done a flat long run.
From my vantage point I could see the rain, which is always lovely to look at--I just don't enjoy running for several hours in it. I could also see pretty much the whole gym. And then the show The Doctors was on. I really didn't pay much attention to it but I do like looking at the hot doctor that is on that show. I don't know why the doctors I go to see don't look like that. Makes me feel a little cheated. I also had a view of Fox News.
The only real downside to this was that the treadmills at my gym shut off after 60 minutes. But this wasn't a huge problem since on my long runs I have to stop for water breaks, to pee or buy Gatorade. Lately, because it has been so hot, I've been stopping 3 times--sometimes for up to 5 minutes just so that I can make sure I don't spontaneously burst into flames. I am not kidding. 3 weeks ago I spent some extra time in Walgreens with as much of my body as I could get into their freezer.
My goal was 7 miles an hour. This is faster than I have been running 21 miles this summer but not faster than I was running 21 miles last spring/winter/fall. So it was a little optimistic and hence the "3 hours or 21 miles" deal.
First hour--once I finally got the right treadmill--was awesome. I tried to be conservative because I didn't want to wear myself out in the first hour. My first mile was a little over 9 minutes. And would be the slowest mile I ran today. The hour ended with me running 7.37 miles. About an 8:10 avg pace.
I hopped off because I dying to pee. Unfortunately the bathroom at my gym is down stairs but I figured that would help keep the blood flowing. I peed, ran back up stairs, did a few lunges and hopped back on.
Since I was good and warmed up I didn't need to start with the nine minute mile. I started at an 8:34 pace and pressed buttons up and down for the hour between 8:34 and 7:20 pace. I started having the GU I brought. I do better if I take it over a few miles. I had finished it by the time I got to 10.5 miles and I was super excited to be half way done.
I was feeling really good-- so good I started to get some wild ideas. I was thinking about how Joe Reger had run 23 miles the other day in 3:21. I started think I could totally beat that today! Kick his skinny, younger and fitter Ironman ass with my awesome treadmill in air conditioning run. Then I had the even grander delusion of running 26.2 miles, musing that maybe, you know if I really started to push it I could run a marathon PR today. On the treadmill! How cool would that be?! Awesome.
There was still that part of my brain that wasn't yet totally stupid and it finally piped up with a "why don't you wait until you start the 3rd hour before you think about such things."
I ended the second hour at 7.52 miles for an average 7:58 pace. I was pretty happy to be at that mileage and still felt pretty good. I hopped off the treadmill and did a few lunges. My quads were starting to sing a little and my knees were missing the hills but other wise I felt pretty good. No different than I have been feeling at that point on my long runs this summer.
I got back on and started into the 3rd hour. I started out at an 8:44 pace and it felt horrible. It made everything hurt. After the first mile I sped up. The 7:53 pace felt best; most natural but I was having to work kind of hard--harder than I normally work in the last miles (but then again lately I have not been running 7:53 pace at all during a long run). I played around the pace--going back down to 8:20 for a few minutes and then back under 8 minute miles towards 7:30 pace. It really felt more comfortable at a sub 8 pace than at 8:20ish. But it was hard--my heart rate was creeping up. I was getting tired and was getting "done" with being on the treadmill.
I started doing the math. How much longer and how much further? I added up the first 2 hours miles: 7.37 and 7.52. So 14.89. So 6.11. At first I estimated that I would probably hit the 6.11 that I needed to get to 21 miles in 53 minutes. Let tell me you at 23 minutes-- another 30 minutes sounded like an eternity so I started running as hard as I could manage just so I could get done.
I was getting sloppy. I kept spilling my Powerade all over me every time I took a sip but I still was holding the sub-8 pace. I was a constant clock watcher. My eyes darting from the minutes to miles and then pressing buttons and changing the pace, then changing the song on my ipod, back to changing the pace--anything to make it feel like time was passing faster. Finally I was almost to 6 miles and started to speed up and kind of just closed my eyes. Not really, but maybe. When I allowed myself to look I was at 6.07. It was like counting down to New Years Eve. I hit stop at 6.12--just in case my math had been a little off. Time? 48 minutes and 22 seconds. 7:54 average pace.
Holy Negative Split BatNat! 21 miles in 2:48:22! 8:01 average pace. I think the fastest I have ever run a 21 mile training run was in 2:53. So maybe, just maybe 3:20 at Rocket City isn't so unrealistic after all. But we'll see. I am just happy that I did not let the excuses win today. I know this is a tiny victory over them but hey at least I got one battle won this week. Now, I've got 15 more weeks of battles to wage.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
It is over! Christmas is over!
So why haven't you taken the tree down yet? Beau keeps asking.
He has been saying it over and over and nagging me about getting Christmas gone since the 26th.
And here it is the 31st and I am ushering out the old to bring in the new. But when I gave Beau the boxes for his tree and ornaments (yes both kids have their own Christmas trees in their rooms. That way they leave mine alone) he asked why? Why do I have to pack up my tree?
And then was further dismayed, upon coming downstairs, that I have un-Christmas-ed the whole house. Even big fat blow up Santa that he has spent the last month stabbing with his sword and deflating is packed up.
It is over. It is really over.
Thank you baby Jesus. And heck no. I am not waiting until the Ephiphany to take my tree down. I am not Catholic but am a born and raised Southerner and my family says tree gone by New Year day; bad luck to bring last year into the New Year, or so I've heard it said.
Yeah, I don't know if I'll be having black eyed peas (with money in 'em) and collards tomorrow so I might be screwed anyway. Eh, nothing new there.
We did have a great Christmas!
And I have included some pictures from Christmas day.
Yes, Santa brought the kids a trampoline. And yes, Ryan and I are both really excited about this since neither Bubbles and Poppy or Pop and Lala let us one when we were kids. It has been great fun already!
But no I am not really ready for 2009.
Nor do I really want to look back and carefully assess all the 2008 foibles and follies.
I gotta say, it has been a rough few years for us and while I think maybe the rain has stopped, the fog lifted and the clouds are beginning to part and let the sun shine back into our lives it is still hard for me to leap into the new year with unbridled optimism. Having been so beaten down I, if nothing else, am a bit more cautious and dare I say it lest that too comes back to bite me in the ass, I might even be a teeny tiny bit wiser. So with baby steps I am inching into 2009, looking left, looking right, left again and back over my shoulder before I move a single damn inch. Definitely no leaping.
And no Carrie, per your phone call this morning; I do NOT have a New Year baby costume complete with diaper, 2009 sash and Champagne glass pasties.
If only I did though . . .
Hey! Maybe that should be my New Year resolution: To find an apropos costume for all holidays and festive occasions. Right, wait let me be more specific: A slutty, stripper like costume for all holidays and festive occasions.
Switching to the running gear it looks like it is going to be a big fat ready set go for me on January 17, 2009 at the Museum of Aviation marathon. I have successfully bumped back up my mileage in December and finished the month out at 215 miles-- complete with 2 21 milers and yesterday I ran a spectacular 24 miler. I even ran 63 miles last week and avoided injury. So it is yet again taper time and I will be keeping my fingers crossed and saying my prayers that maybe in 2009 I will finally run that 3:30 marathon that has alluded me in 2007 and 2008.
Have a safe and happy New Year everyone!
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Band War
Steph invited the kids and I to join her and her girls at the Lassiter Battle of the Band.
Steph has a thing for marching bands. She was in the band in high school. I wasn't. I am not musical. At all. I did once have a boyfriend my senior year of high school that played sax in the marching band. But really, other than that, I don't remember much about my high school marching band. But that might also be because I didn't attend many football games. Spectating has just never been my thing. I get easily bored. I prefer to do, not sit.
And speaking of not sitting, this morning I did my long run. It went off well--21.5 miles and no severe foot pain! Just the regular long run pains. I was actually happy to have them.
I thought. This? This is normal.
So I am relieved I got it in and I am over the hump and able to move on with training for (some) fall marathon without a nagging or permanent injury.
And, I actually had my highest running mileage week since last April, gosh, maybe even March. Partly, of course, this is due to the race last Sunday but overall this week I managed 58 miles running (4 days total), 121 miles cycling (4 days total), and 3.5 miles swimming (3 days). I am planning on dropping the bike mileage and replacing it with more running. As much as I don't want to do it I think higher running volume is what is going to get me faster. I hope at least. It has worked before. 50 mpw just seems to be keeping me the same. Gonna have to make another go at those 70 mile weeks. Ugh. It is gonna hurt. I just know it.
Oops. Sorry. Digression. This post is about the band wars. . .
So anyway, after I finished my run I asked the kids if they wanted to go see a battle of the bands.
It surprised me that Beau knew I was referring to marching bands as he started marching and pretending to play the drums.
Carmella wasn't so sure she wanted to go but Beau talked her into going to "the band war"-- as he called it. 
Like Beau, I was thinking it was going to be a bit more intense. You know like a Bring It On sort of thing but instead of cheer off's there would be march off's. But no. It was all very organized and pedestrian. Maybe march off's happen in the finals. We still have our wrist bands and can go back any time we want today.
But we will probably not since I am already tired from having to walk up and down the bleachers. I am all marched out, to say the least.
Steph sat all the way at the top of the bleachers. Sure the view was great but it wasn't easy going back down.
Anyone who has ever run a marathon understands exactly what I am saying about going down stairs afterwards (up really isn't a problem for me).
Can you say Tin man?
I've posted this before but it cracks me up so much that it bears re-posting just in case anyone missed it last time:
Friday, September 19, 2008
All the Pieces of the Puzzle
Are coming together.
There is one final one to put in there before I will call the picture of--for me--near perfect training done.
Still gotta do that open water swim. . .
I am a little ill about it, to be perfectly honest.
I have no doubts that I can swim the distance. I swim it regularly.
But in a pool.
And well, the race part does have me a bit nervous too.
Sure I was competitive swimmer once upon a time 25 years ago but even then I got to have my own lane-- in a pool. And sure, I clearly remember getting kicked in the face and swam over in practice but again: in a pool.
A pool where only a leg's length separated me from stopping and standing up to adjust goggles, catch my breath or whatever. Not to mention that every 25 yds (or 50meters depending if it is long or short course) a wall was forth coming. There is a bit of comfort in doing a 5k swim and knowing that every 25 yds you get to touch a solid surface.
So yesterday as I did my final self imposed mini triathlon I played out in my head all my race anxieties-- as if just thinking about them would make it all a little better.
No, not so much.
As I swam my 1600 yds back and forth, back and forth I thought about how I am still scared that I am going to crash my bike and at the very least worried that I will get a flat. Which, no, I still don't know how to change. But I can rationalize with myself that is a scenario that could happen on any given day I ride my bike. Admittedly, I have learned to set that fear on a shelf and only look at it in passing moments. I tell myself there is no reason to pull it down and play with it on race day.
And on my 5k run yesterday I was sad to find that no matter how many bricks I have done this summer it still sucks to get off the bike and run. So sure, despite the 4 long runs I have done over 21 miles, and the 5 16 mile runs and even the 2 twelve mile runs I have done at a sub 8 min mile (and one at a sub 7:30 minute mile) I am STILL anxious that my run is going to be terribly slow and is going to hurt.
But hey, at least I am use to it.
Without a doubt I know what to expect. It will absolutely be no surprise for me if my run sucks. I am certain it is going to. And I have to admit that I have sort of tried in training to make my runs suck to prepare for it: running in the hottest part of the day, long runs in 90 degree heat, running almost every long run a bit faster than I should. I am for sure banking on the misery I embraced in training to get me through the 13.1 mile run portion of the race next Sunday. And oddly enough, I find comfort in that.
But for 30 miles on my bike yesterday I thought about the swim portion of the race and-- I am not sure how I am going to get over this-- my fear of the creepy lake bottom.
I do not like to touch lake bottoms.
Totally skeeves me out.
I don't think I am going to get past this either.
I have tried consoling myself with thoughts about all times in my life I have swam in open water. And I have realized it is not at all open water that bothers me. I am actually quite comfortable in water.
I mean, after all, I grew up with a lake in my backyard. I spent most of the year swimming in that lake from age 13 until college. But when I thought about it I never ever walked into the lake and certainly never ever touched the creepy lake bottom. I either jumped off the dock or was out in the middle of lake when someone would flip the canoe or suicide boat over.
The suicide boat?
Okay, quick stroll down memory lane as this memory totally played itself out to me in my head yesterday as I riding. Funny the things that pop in your head, you know.
The suicide boat was suppose to be a homemade kayak. My uncle was making it but never finished it. I have no idea why we had it but we did. Growing up my dad and his brothers were always swapping, "borrowing" or stealing various rag tagged things from each other that they deemed valuable; like, a 1980 Landcruiser, a Boston Whaler fishing boat, a row boat, various canoes, kayaks, camping equipment, and even a cement mixer etc. Things that sometimes became a fixture-- or just an annoying joke at our house. Other times they would disappear for awhile; only to show back up in the driveway or down at the lake. Ownership of such items was untenable and was usually based on some bet or a wager or bartered form of payment.
The suicide boat was at our house for several years. It looked like a canoe but was much less stable as it was just the bottom shell part of a kayak. The sides were very low since it was missing the top cover part.
We called it the suicide boat because it always flipped over from the very slightest of movement. So if you took your chances in the suicide boat you knew you were going swimming. It also wasn't terribly bouyant so you would have swim back to the dock while trying to keep the suicide boat from sinking. Talk about honing some swim strength. Try swimming 500 yds dragging a waterlogged boat.
But even worse than the flipping and the sinking was the fact that it was made of unfinished fiberglass. So sitting in it, or even just touching it would get fiberglass in your skin. In case you have never experienced fiberglass in your skin it is very uncomfortable and itchy and I am guessing not too healthy.
You'd think we would have learned our lesson the first few times we went out on the lake in the suicide boat but no. That boat was around until Brent, Sean, Liz and I completely destroyed it.
One year it snowed. And see that is headline news here in Georgia on its own. But that year it actually stuck. There was a ton of snow--again, by Georgia standards. So the 4 of us ran down to the lake and got the suicide boat. I don't know if we drug it down the street to the dam or rowed from my dock to the dam but I am guessing that we drug it not wanting to fall in the lake in January. Which, while not completely unheard of in our group, I am sure --well almost sure--that falling in the lake on a snow day is something we would have avoided. I think.
Anyway, the street I lived on was flat. And while the houses on the street sat a top a hill that slopped down the lake; the hill was densely wooded. The only clear hill on the road was the back side of the dam. It was a steep embankment that bottomed out at the foot of a waterfall. A waterfall that was also great fun to play in and yes, we did entertain sliding down the waterfall in the boat but decided against it since it was quite treacherous.
The four of us hopped in the suicide boat and shot down the back side of the damn. The suicide boat went air born and we jumped over the low fence into the creek bed. The suicide boat broke into two pieces upon impact. And we sat in the creek wet and laughing our asses off. It was even better we now because we had two pieces of boat and spent the entire day sliding down the dam into the creek. After awhile my dad showed up--and I was a little worried that we were going to be in big trouble for breaking the suicide boat he seemed not to care. Instead he hooked the larger piece of the boat up to his Bronco and drug us up and down the road.
No. We were not wearing helmets.
That was such a fun day.
And what, by tale you may ask is the point.
Sorry. I don't think I have one.
It is just a tangent that I wanted to set down before it was completely lost in the recesses of my mind.
Or perhaps this memory, and not my missing open water swim, is the final puzzle piece. A piece that revealed itself in memory to remind me that there was a time in my life that I did risky things with abandon and had a freaking fabulous time doing them.
Maybe it is the piece of the puzzle telling me that I have been taking myself and my training too seriously and I need to remember that this is suppose to be fun.
Hmmm, something to definitely ponder tomorrow during my open water swim.
There is one final one to put in there before I will call the picture of--for me--near perfect training done.
Still gotta do that open water swim. . .
I am a little ill about it, to be perfectly honest.
I have no doubts that I can swim the distance. I swim it regularly.
But in a pool.
And well, the race part does have me a bit nervous too.
Sure I was competitive swimmer once upon a time 25 years ago but even then I got to have my own lane-- in a pool. And sure, I clearly remember getting kicked in the face and swam over in practice but again: in a pool.
A pool where only a leg's length separated me from stopping and standing up to adjust goggles, catch my breath or whatever. Not to mention that every 25 yds (or 50meters depending if it is long or short course) a wall was forth coming. There is a bit of comfort in doing a 5k swim and knowing that every 25 yds you get to touch a solid surface.
So yesterday as I did my final self imposed mini triathlon I played out in my head all my race anxieties-- as if just thinking about them would make it all a little better.
No, not so much.
As I swam my 1600 yds back and forth, back and forth I thought about how I am still scared that I am going to crash my bike and at the very least worried that I will get a flat. Which, no, I still don't know how to change. But I can rationalize with myself that is a scenario that could happen on any given day I ride my bike. Admittedly, I have learned to set that fear on a shelf and only look at it in passing moments. I tell myself there is no reason to pull it down and play with it on race day.
And on my 5k run yesterday I was sad to find that no matter how many bricks I have done this summer it still sucks to get off the bike and run. So sure, despite the 4 long runs I have done over 21 miles, and the 5 16 mile runs and even the 2 twelve mile runs I have done at a sub 8 min mile (and one at a sub 7:30 minute mile) I am STILL anxious that my run is going to be terribly slow and is going to hurt.
But hey, at least I am use to it.
Without a doubt I know what to expect. It will absolutely be no surprise for me if my run sucks. I am certain it is going to. And I have to admit that I have sort of tried in training to make my runs suck to prepare for it: running in the hottest part of the day, long runs in 90 degree heat, running almost every long run a bit faster than I should. I am for sure banking on the misery I embraced in training to get me through the 13.1 mile run portion of the race next Sunday. And oddly enough, I find comfort in that.
But for 30 miles on my bike yesterday I thought about the swim portion of the race and-- I am not sure how I am going to get over this-- my fear of the creepy lake bottom.
I do not like to touch lake bottoms.
Totally skeeves me out.
I don't think I am going to get past this either.
I have tried consoling myself with thoughts about all times in my life I have swam in open water. And I have realized it is not at all open water that bothers me. I am actually quite comfortable in water.
I mean, after all, I grew up with a lake in my backyard. I spent most of the year swimming in that lake from age 13 until college. But when I thought about it I never ever walked into the lake and certainly never ever touched the creepy lake bottom. I either jumped off the dock or was out in the middle of lake when someone would flip the canoe or suicide boat over.
The suicide boat?
Okay, quick stroll down memory lane as this memory totally played itself out to me in my head yesterday as I riding. Funny the things that pop in your head, you know.
The suicide boat was suppose to be a homemade kayak. My uncle was making it but never finished it. I have no idea why we had it but we did. Growing up my dad and his brothers were always swapping, "borrowing" or stealing various rag tagged things from each other that they deemed valuable; like, a 1980 Landcruiser, a Boston Whaler fishing boat, a row boat, various canoes, kayaks, camping equipment, and even a cement mixer etc. Things that sometimes became a fixture-- or just an annoying joke at our house. Other times they would disappear for awhile; only to show back up in the driveway or down at the lake. Ownership of such items was untenable and was usually based on some bet or a wager or bartered form of payment.
The suicide boat was at our house for several years. It looked like a canoe but was much less stable as it was just the bottom shell part of a kayak. The sides were very low since it was missing the top cover part.
We called it the suicide boat because it always flipped over from the very slightest of movement. So if you took your chances in the suicide boat you knew you were going swimming. It also wasn't terribly bouyant so you would have swim back to the dock while trying to keep the suicide boat from sinking. Talk about honing some swim strength. Try swimming 500 yds dragging a waterlogged boat.
But even worse than the flipping and the sinking was the fact that it was made of unfinished fiberglass. So sitting in it, or even just touching it would get fiberglass in your skin. In case you have never experienced fiberglass in your skin it is very uncomfortable and itchy and I am guessing not too healthy.
You'd think we would have learned our lesson the first few times we went out on the lake in the suicide boat but no. That boat was around until Brent, Sean, Liz and I completely destroyed it.
One year it snowed. And see that is headline news here in Georgia on its own. But that year it actually stuck. There was a ton of snow--again, by Georgia standards. So the 4 of us ran down to the lake and got the suicide boat. I don't know if we drug it down the street to the dam or rowed from my dock to the dam but I am guessing that we drug it not wanting to fall in the lake in January. Which, while not completely unheard of in our group, I am sure --well almost sure--that falling in the lake on a snow day is something we would have avoided. I think.
Anyway, the street I lived on was flat. And while the houses on the street sat a top a hill that slopped down the lake; the hill was densely wooded. The only clear hill on the road was the back side of the dam. It was a steep embankment that bottomed out at the foot of a waterfall. A waterfall that was also great fun to play in and yes, we did entertain sliding down the waterfall in the boat but decided against it since it was quite treacherous.
The four of us hopped in the suicide boat and shot down the back side of the damn. The suicide boat went air born and we jumped over the low fence into the creek bed. The suicide boat broke into two pieces upon impact. And we sat in the creek wet and laughing our asses off. It was even better we now because we had two pieces of boat and spent the entire day sliding down the dam into the creek. After awhile my dad showed up--and I was a little worried that we were going to be in big trouble for breaking the suicide boat he seemed not to care. Instead he hooked the larger piece of the boat up to his Bronco and drug us up and down the road.
No. We were not wearing helmets.
That was such a fun day.
And what, by tale you may ask is the point.
Sorry. I don't think I have one.
It is just a tangent that I wanted to set down before it was completely lost in the recesses of my mind.
Or perhaps this memory, and not my missing open water swim, is the final puzzle piece. A piece that revealed itself in memory to remind me that there was a time in my life that I did risky things with abandon and had a freaking fabulous time doing them.
Maybe it is the piece of the puzzle telling me that I have been taking myself and my training too seriously and I need to remember that this is suppose to be fun.
Hmmm, something to definitely ponder tomorrow during my open water swim.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Experiments with Water that Matter
The other day, as the kids and I walked home from school in the rain, Carmella told me she learned about the 3 states of matter in science.
Shakespearian aside: Yes, I am the mean mom who makes her kids walk home from school in the rain. It was only a light drizzly rain and it just kills me to waste time and gas to drive the half mile to the school to sit in the carpool lane. Besides, what kid doesn't like playing in the rain? And Beau and Carmella? Cute as all get out but definitely not made of sugar. So them melting wasn't an issue.
I asked Carmella "So my little genius, what are the 3 states of matter?
Solid, liquid, and gas. Carmella recited with her usual know it all perfection.
Beau said. Yeah, I know that. I know science, he added for emphasis. In case there was ever any question. Beau? Already knows everything.
I said,"So. Let me guess. Did you talk about water?"
She was surprised that I guessed this. Especially since Beau and Carmella pretty much think I am an incompetent idiot but she confirmed what I suspected. And just so you can prepare yourself for what happens in second grade I am going to tell you. They reveal to the children the mystery of water: vapor, ice and swimming pools.
Swimming pools?
Well, Monday I was suppose to meet a group for an open water swim. (See how it is really all about me?) But there was a threat of storms so I didn't want to waste my time and my gas (read 40 minute drive) to potentially not get a workout in. I can always swim at the gym. Better safe than wasting a workout, I always say. So I bailed on the open water swim.
This experiment proved a complete failure.
The pool at the gym was so cloudy I couldn't see the black line. How the hell am I suppose to do flip turns if I have no idea where the wall is? Besides. It is a pool. With chemicals. Why the hell is it so murky? That is just scary. So I did pilates instead. In my book, also known as: complete waste of time. This was the first day in I don't know how long that I did not break a sweat. I was sure I was retaining water as result and I can promise you. As a girl? That is never good.
I should also add: pilates is a complete waste of time that 2 days later my abs are now sore from. How did this happen?
The experiments with water continued on Tuesday. I was further thwarted by the rain. We had tornado warnings and sirens going off and thunder and wind and lightening. I contemplated the treadmill but my heart couldn't do it. The treadmill. It just isn't my happy place. What can I say? I like to be happy when I run. That is just my thing. Others? They like to win. That isn't what motivates me. Happiness and feeling good, that motivates me. My soul is little like that.
So when the storms abated and the tornado warnings expired I headed out in the light rain. And over the course of 10 miles it would rain, then pour, then not rain and then rain again.
Whatever. I got wet. It was warm so the rain was actually nice. But see how running in the rain makes me look all glistening and pretty?
Hideous. I know.
But since I was already wet I went to the gym to try to swim. The pool was still cloudy but at least I could see the wall so it was an improvement. Nothing spectacular but 2000 yds in 35 minutes.
I would say this experiment with water was a moderate success.
Last night I got a text from Steph that she and Doug and Neal were planning to ride 50 miles today. Did I want to come? Yes, I thought, I do. But I needed/had planned to do my week's long run on Wednesday. Besides. I thought. I think it is going to rain. And I? I do not ride my bike in the rain. So I politely declined the invitation.
So I ran today. And it did rain. Not a hard rain but a very persistent and annoying rain. And I did not want to run it but I need to ride my bike this week and I've already swam twice so I had to do my long run today if I wanted to get it in. Ugh. So I made myself do it. But I negotiated it the whole way.
Optimistically I had planned to run 21 miles. I realized pretty early on that I would not be sticking to that plan. Really I only need to run a 2 hour run this week. I had just been greedy in thinking about the 21 miler. I don't need it and my achilles, which have been complaining, certainly don't need it. So I cut out the miles I usually run on the park trails because they were void of other people and mostly because I didn't want to experiment with mud.
While ran I wondered about Steph, Doug and Neal and assumed they bailed on the ride. But bail they did not. You can read about Steph's dangerous experiment with water here.
My experiment with water today was much less exciting and worked out to be quite pedestrian with a little over 16 miles at an 8:32 pace. Not fabulous but whatever. It is in the books. And I think, geez I hope, I am done playing in the rain this week.
But my little scientists are not done playing with water.
After school, Beau -- while I helped Carmella with her math homework -- did some "experiments" at the kitchen sink with a rubber band, a coke bottle and water. Lots and lots of water. I quickly found homework for Beau too.
But then while I folded laundry Carmella decided to "experiment with matter."
I heard the talk about the experiment going on downstairs and heard the freezer opening and closing. The faucet turning off and on. But, you know, I was busy. With laundry. Not paying attention to my children "experimenting with matter."
So tonight when I came downstairs and opened the freezer to get my ice packs so I could ice my Achilles this is what I found:
I really, really hope that it is only water in those Easter eggs. I did over hear my two little scientists discussing syrup. And I really, really hope they were only hypothesizing and speaking in theory only.
Shakespearian aside: Yes, I am the mean mom who makes her kids walk home from school in the rain. It was only a light drizzly rain and it just kills me to waste time and gas to drive the half mile to the school to sit in the carpool lane. Besides, what kid doesn't like playing in the rain? And Beau and Carmella? Cute as all get out but definitely not made of sugar. So them melting wasn't an issue.
I asked Carmella "So my little genius, what are the 3 states of matter?
Solid, liquid, and gas. Carmella recited with her usual know it all perfection.
Beau said. Yeah, I know that. I know science, he added for emphasis. In case there was ever any question. Beau? Already knows everything.
I said,"So. Let me guess. Did you talk about water?"
She was surprised that I guessed this. Especially since Beau and Carmella pretty much think I am an incompetent idiot but she confirmed what I suspected. And just so you can prepare yourself for what happens in second grade I am going to tell you. They reveal to the children the mystery of water: vapor, ice and swimming pools.
Swimming pools?
Well, Monday I was suppose to meet a group for an open water swim. (See how it is really all about me?) But there was a threat of storms so I didn't want to waste my time and my gas (read 40 minute drive) to potentially not get a workout in. I can always swim at the gym. Better safe than wasting a workout, I always say. So I bailed on the open water swim.
This experiment proved a complete failure.
The pool at the gym was so cloudy I couldn't see the black line. How the hell am I suppose to do flip turns if I have no idea where the wall is? Besides. It is a pool. With chemicals. Why the hell is it so murky? That is just scary. So I did pilates instead. In my book, also known as: complete waste of time. This was the first day in I don't know how long that I did not break a sweat. I was sure I was retaining water as result and I can promise you. As a girl? That is never good.
I should also add: pilates is a complete waste of time that 2 days later my abs are now sore from. How did this happen?
The experiments with water continued on Tuesday. I was further thwarted by the rain. We had tornado warnings and sirens going off and thunder and wind and lightening. I contemplated the treadmill but my heart couldn't do it. The treadmill. It just isn't my happy place. What can I say? I like to be happy when I run. That is just my thing. Others? They like to win. That isn't what motivates me. Happiness and feeling good, that motivates me. My soul is little like that.
So when the storms abated and the tornado warnings expired I headed out in the light rain. And over the course of 10 miles it would rain, then pour, then not rain and then rain again.
Whatever. I got wet. It was warm so the rain was actually nice. But see how running in the rain makes me look all glistening and pretty?
Hideous. I know.
But since I was already wet I went to the gym to try to swim. The pool was still cloudy but at least I could see the wall so it was an improvement. Nothing spectacular but 2000 yds in 35 minutes.
I would say this experiment with water was a moderate success.
Last night I got a text from Steph that she and Doug and Neal were planning to ride 50 miles today. Did I want to come? Yes, I thought, I do. But I needed/had planned to do my week's long run on Wednesday. Besides. I thought. I think it is going to rain. And I? I do not ride my bike in the rain. So I politely declined the invitation.
So I ran today. And it did rain. Not a hard rain but a very persistent and annoying rain. And I did not want to run it but I need to ride my bike this week and I've already swam twice so I had to do my long run today if I wanted to get it in. Ugh. So I made myself do it. But I negotiated it the whole way.
Optimistically I had planned to run 21 miles. I realized pretty early on that I would not be sticking to that plan. Really I only need to run a 2 hour run this week. I had just been greedy in thinking about the 21 miler. I don't need it and my achilles, which have been complaining, certainly don't need it. So I cut out the miles I usually run on the park trails because they were void of other people and mostly because I didn't want to experiment with mud.
While ran I wondered about Steph, Doug and Neal and assumed they bailed on the ride. But bail they did not. You can read about Steph's dangerous experiment with water here.
My experiment with water today was much less exciting and worked out to be quite pedestrian with a little over 16 miles at an 8:32 pace. Not fabulous but whatever. It is in the books. And I think, geez I hope, I am done playing in the rain this week.
But my little scientists are not done playing with water.
After school, Beau -- while I helped Carmella with her math homework -- did some "experiments" at the kitchen sink with a rubber band, a coke bottle and water. Lots and lots of water. I quickly found homework for Beau too.
But then while I folded laundry Carmella decided to "experiment with matter."
I heard the talk about the experiment going on downstairs and heard the freezer opening and closing. The faucet turning off and on. But, you know, I was busy. With laundry. Not paying attention to my children "experimenting with matter."
So tonight when I came downstairs and opened the freezer to get my ice packs so I could ice my Achilles this is what I found:
I really, really hope that it is only water in those Easter eggs. I did over hear my two little scientists discussing syrup. And I really, really hope they were only hypothesizing and speaking in theory only.
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