Haiku

Training is hard work.
My body is strong, yet tired.
Please get me some food.

Day of Rest - Take 2

Tomorrow is a prescribed day of rest and I can't wait! This week was supposedly a "light week" in terms of workouts -- relative to what next week will be. I had guests in town and could not participate in the 56-mile bike ride on Sunday, and I chose to do a 40-mile bike ride on Monday instead of the grueling swim workout that was on the schedule. Other than that, I did as well as or more than what was planned: Tuesday morning yoga + 5.5 mile track workout (in the pouring rain) that was H.A.R.D. Wednesday swim workout that was a welcome change because it didn't require my body hold its own weight. I was sooooo sore from Tuesday I could hardly get out of bed, get onto or off of the toilet, into or out of my car, etc... It felt good to be semi-weightless in the water! I was proud of myself for completing the 1400-yard workout (and actually enjoying it). The "lunch ride" on Thursday was, for me, a 21-mile interval ride with lots of short, steep hills and little recovery. Today, a 3.5 mile run, my strength routine (Tracy Anderson), and a much-needed 90-minute massage. Ahhhhh...

Tomorrow is a day of rest. But I have seen what is on the calendar for the following 7 days and I am officially Scared. It is a week that is largely focusing on swimming, and that is clearly my weak link. I am nowhere near where I need to be to get through the drills and main sets of swimming in terms of my basic form. There are lots and lots of bricks -- swim + run, swim + bike, swim + strength., swim, swim, don't drown, swim. EEK! I'm scared that I won't be able to do the swim workouts well, and that mental defeat will play into my other sports. I'm scared that it will rain all week and I won't be able to get out on my bike or otherwise have to compromise myself. I'm scared I'll look for excuses to compromise myself because it's too hard.

So, I ran my measley 3.5 miles today and enjoyed my massage (probably a little too much). I am considering a yoga workout tomorrow, if we don't go skiing in Tahoe... but will otherwise relish the day off. That's a first for me, and a big win mentally as I enter a week that is sure to be full of a lot of mental failures.

Here's to progress!

F is for _ _ _ _

I don't know what to write about. I feel like every post should all be Profound, and that paralyzes me. So I don't write at all. I wonder, "Will they think I'm funny?" "Will they care at all?" "Will my punctuation be correct in this situation?"

And then I think, "Fuck them (whoever "they" are). This is my blog."

I won't let fear keep me from doing this. Because the reality is this: which is worse -- doing it and sucking, or not doing it at all?

So I'll just write and maybe there's a theme. Maybe there's a common thread. Maybe not.

I'll just write.

Day of Rest

A prescribed day of rest. This must be the day that most people look forward to. I've known since Wednesday that this would be a "day off," and yet it has plagued me since then (including today). In fact, for two days, I have planned to do my Tracy Anderson video AND go to the sauna as "active recovery." And yet, it's 10 PM and I have done none of these things. At this point, all I can do is say, "Oh well!"

Admittedly, I have not been feeling 100% lately: sore and achy in general, my right knee is bothering me, and I'm generally tired. So while I had planned to "over-achieve" today and do my toning workout and/or go to the sauna, it just didn't happen. In some secret society that my alter-ego is having, I'm rejoicing for the break. But for the rest of me, I'm trying not to stress about it (as I eat a piece of chocolate cake that pairs so well with my red wine).

A friend came over earlier this evening for a chat and I spoke of my "day off dilemma." Her first question was, "What are you afraid of?"

Don't get me started.

The Same, Only Different

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you're so stressed," says Greg tonight as I lean into him for a back rub. This is the guy who is working 1.5 jobs in 10+ hour days, trying to train for his racing season, and be a loving husband and doggy dad.

Well, it's not so much that I'm stressed in the way that he is stressed or the way that I used to be stressed going to my job, but it's not like I'm living the life of The Real Housewives of San Mateo County. I even surprised myself by saying as much (rather than reverting to my alter-ego PAM -- Passive Aggressive Molly):

I realize that I'm not doing what you're doing, but here's my new reality:

• I gave up what was familiar, comfortable, and "normal" to me in terms of everyday life and livelihood.
• I don't earn any of my own money or have spending money like I used to.
• I don't have the same level of stability as I've always had and been able to provide myself.
• I am in uncharted territory.

He did concede by saying, "Yeah, not having money is stressful." I guess I feel good about that level of empathy from him (we don't share money, so it isn't like I'm spending his earnings on my everyday whims), and maybe it's good that I'm getting to the bottom of the funk and grouchiness that I've had the past few weeks. I can only blame it on lack of sunshine for so long... 

I'm scared of being so far removed from Corporate America, where I was able to be a positive contributor, make friends, add value, make money, and LEARN. Maybe that's what I'm most scared of. I am afraid I'm getting dumber everyday that I spend more time with myself and not with smarter people. I learn by osmosis and my dog doesn't count. I'm scared no one will care what I'm saying and this idea will go nowhere.

There. I said it.

I'm scared. It makes my heart rate increase. It makes my breath shallow. It makes my muscles tense up. This is where body and mind meet. Psychosomatics. The body reacts to fear in a similar fashion as it does to physical work. The silver lining must be that we are burning calories when facing our fears! That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

As frightening as all this unknown business is, I'm still moving forward with my dream of getting away from a desk job I hate. I am scared and uncertain and grouchy, but it's better than the pit in my stomach that I got just thinking about going to work the next day. In fact, the best part of my day (especially Sunday) is knowing that I don't have to answer to anyone tomorrow.

I think I'll have another glass of wine. I've earned it!

Fair Weather Fitness

Super Bowl Sunday brought sunny skies to northern California, the first in a long time. After spending a cold and rainy Saturday in Folsom learning to swim more efficiently, Greg and I were anxious to take advantage of Sunday's sunshine. We headed out to Canada Road for a 30-mile bike ride. I have not seen Bicycle Sunday this busy in a LONG time. Ah, fair weather fitness.

Perhaps it wasn't just the sunny day. After all, there was a cold, strong wind that probably should have deterred many of these fair weather exercisers... Perhaps this was a pre-game calorie burn. Riding your bike for an hour at a reasonable pace will burn somewhere around 800 calories. According to the Calorie Control Council, the average armchair quarterback will consume 1200 calories and 50 grams of fat from snacking -- and that doesn’t even count any meals! Keep pedaling, guys!

Greg and I chose to run errands during the start of the game, avoiding traffic and crowds. One of these errands was stopping by the Gap to exchange a pair of pants for Greg. In looking through the stacks of pants, we could not find Greg's size -- 34x36, but I did come across several pair in size 44x32. Can you imagine a 44-inch waist and 32-inch inseam?! Now THAT is terrifying, and I'm pretty sure the guy wearing those pants enjoyed his fair share of chips, Velveeta, and little smokies during the game (and likely his share of indigestion later).

Back at home, we settled into the bean bag to watch the game on our DVR, and dined on jerk-spiced grilled shrimp with tropical salsa salad. Score one for eating healthy!

An Impostor's Question

Are you more afraid of...

Looking like a fool while swimming?

OR

Looking bad in a swimming suit?

This is what plagues me on this rainy Friday evening. I signed up for a swim clinic to improve my weakest triathlon link. I've known about this clinic for a few weeks now and have not been excited about it from the beginning. Sure, I know it's the right thing to do. I know I need it. I know that everyone else who has signed up is likely in the same boat, or one that at least looks similar. Hell, my husband signed up and "he's good at everything."

But then the reality happens. It's a 2-hour drive. It's an outdoor pool. It's going to be raining. I will be videotaped.

There are people out there who are TRUE triathletes. Not just people who complete a designated swim/bike/run to check it off the bucket list. These people live triathlons -- their workouts, their diets, their lifestyle. I am not one of these people. So maybe I've got a bit of the Impostor Syndrome going on here. I like to do triathlons for fun, for camaraderie with friends, a common thread with my husband, as motivation for my workouts (note: this motivation mainly lies in being able to eat and drink what I want -- and to look reasonable in a swimming suit). I'm competitive by nature, so I do them to compete with myself and get better each time, but I'm no die-hard. That's what I'm getting at.

So, as I continue my week-long commitment to no-carbs-except-red-wine diet on this Friday evening, I contemplate the fear that is before me. I am confident I won't be the worst swimmer, nor will I look the worst in my swimming suit. Even if I am, I have committed and I will finish the clinic and my training will benefit from it. That's what I keep telling myself.

Which do you fear more?

DogGONE Scared

February 2009. I was out to dinner in Palo Alto with my friend Gordon Wells. When we get together, he and I sit there for many hours and talk about everything and nothing over several bottles of wine. I wasn't paying attention to the many text messages that I was receiving from my husband while we were chatting. Now, if you know Greg, you know he isn't the type to incessantly text me -- especially when he knows I'm out with Gordon. Usually the only messages I get from him are, "Did you feed the dog?" Well, not this time. It had to do with the dog, but not whether he had been fed.

Greg was inquiring if I had Argus with me, if I had dropped him off at a friend's, and if I otherwise knew of his whereabouts. I calmly replied "no" to all of these questions and made no rush to end my dinner with Gordon. The truth of the matter is that Argus gets out of the gate somewhat often. He goes down to the creek or mills around our little cul de sac and comes home. I figured this is what had happened. Unfortunately, Argus didn't have his collar on that would let people know he belonged to us. Oh no.

It wasn't until Greg called me, frantically searching for him with no luck, that I abruptly bid Gordon farewell and started to think about the reality of Argus being gone. Of course, Greg had searched all of the usual haunts and had talked to all of the neighbors -- no one had seen him. He was GONE. While I drove toward San Mateo, I called friends and they started looking for Argus as well. Before going home, I stopped at each of our two dog parks, calling his name and running around trying to find him. I was now starting to panic. I went home and lost it when I saw Greg. He was distraught as well. We continued looking for a couple of hours and resigned ourselves to go to bed and start anew in the morning. It was raining, but we left the back of Greg's Element open and a bowl of food there. We've never known our Argus to turn down a meal... It was a restless night for both of us and we woke early to get a jump on the search efforts.

The following morning, we both called in to work and spent the morning looking for Argus. I quickly made up a flyer with a picture representative of Argus' distinctive face and size. The SPCA opened at 11 AM, so we canvassed the neighborhood to pass the time. A few people thought they had seen him, but the leads went nowhere. We were so exhausted by this time we didn't know what to do, other than hope beyond hope that someone had found him and turned him into the pound. We had really started to come to terms with the fact that he might never come back. That someone had taken him in and that we'd lost him forever. It really felt quite desperate.

Finally, the SPCA opened and we were one of the first ones there. We had to fill out a form with his physical characteristics and the nature of what had happened. The lady took us back to where they keep all the strays. It was a T-intersection down a hallway, where we first turned left and walked a long hallway of "jail cells" where barking dogs were pleading for us to choose them. Argus wasn't there. The pit in my stomach was worsening, reality setting in. We headed down the right side of the "T" and got to the last cell. Argus was there! I could not imagine the amount of relief that I felt when we saw him!  We knew it was him -- true to Argus' form, he snapped at his cellmate once he saw us, like the jerk he can be. Greg was in tears the moment he saw him. I was in shock, I think. I had cried my tears and started to go through the grieving process of having lost him. I give Greg all the credit for keeping hope alive.

The bottom line is that we diverted disaster and it was a terrible fear that had set into both of us. Wait -- all three of us. Argus wound up at the SPCA because he had either wandered four blocks up to the fire station or someone had found him and turned him in there. The kind firemen deposited him at the SPCA's collection center around 11 PM that night. He spent a long, cold, lonely night by himself in a pen and I'm sure that it wasn't pleasant. He had to have been terrified that we wouldn't come for him.

Greg and I discussed how he could have possibly gotten out of the gate, what would have made him run and not come back, every possible scenario. We assumed the wind must have opened the gate enough for him to wedge his way out. Or perhaps someone had opened the gate enough for him to get out. What came up later -- very much as an after-thought -- was that Greg mentioned that when he got home, the smoke alarm was beeping that its battery was low.

Fast forward one year.

Stay with me here. I realize this is a long story made even longer... 

We were in Tahoe this past weekend, and I'd taken Argus on a strenuous 6-mile hike involving a lot of elevation gain as well as him "post-holing" where his paws sink into very steep snow and he's working hard with every step. That dog slept for a couple of hours while we grabbed beers and slept the entire drive home. He was dog-tired! We were shocked when he was itching to get out of the house this morning around 5 AM. Greg let him out and he instantly went for the gate, pawed it open, and started to make a run for it. This NEVER happens, especially not at 5 AM.  Greg corralled him and brought him into the bed with us, telling me what had happened. Argus was between us, panting like he was under a lot of stress. His stomach started making funny noises, so I thought I'd let him out and watch him.

He did the same thing -- bee-line for the gate and started to let himself out. I told him to wait (which he obediently did, amazingly), I donned my robe and slippers, and grabbed a leash. This dog took off like a bullet! I let him get around the block and realized he just wanted to sniff at and pee on the same things as always -- he just wanted out of the house! I made him come back home. He was very hesitant to come in the house. As I was waiting at the door for him --

Beep!

A-ha! I waited under the smoke alarm in the kitchen. Nothing. I waited in the guest room. Nothing. I went to the basement and found that its battery was almost dead and the alarm was beeping every 30 seconds or so. THIS is what had driven our dog to run both times. I took the battery out and invited Argus back to bed with us, proud of my sleuthing skills!

It's a vicious cycle to think of how frightened Argus was of the beeping -- enough to make him run -- then to think of how scared we were of losing him. Even with him just panting and obviously in stress so early this morning, I wanted to help him and fix whatever it was. I am thankful to know what causes this kind of stress in him, that the gate needs to be locked every night, and that I burned off the calories from that last beer from all the worry (not to mention if anyone had seen me running in my bathrobe and slippers!).

My new technique to get my lazy dog to run with me is to make the smoke alarm beep right before it's time to go for a run. Let's see how many calories we can both burn the old fashioned way!

Have Fun with Your Ego

Have fun with your ego! This is what my yoga instructor told us last week as class began.

Everyone likely interprets this differently -- the idea of having fun with your ego. For me, I really latched onto it because I felt it was along the same vein as calorie-burning fears... I interpreted it as finding the edge of where you are comfortable and pushing that edge, going beyond your comfort level. Kind of like a practical joke on your ego, in the nicest possible way. 

So go ahead, have fun with your ego! Why not? What have you got to lose?? 

Wait.

This is not a rhetorical question. What have you got to lose?

Your balance? Your reputation? Your idealized sense of self? There is not an answer to this question that is good enough to NOT TRY. This was my second yoga class and I found myself pushing harder through stretches and poses, only to fall out of them. I found myself trying a clown pose, one leg at a time. It went so well, I might just try both legs in tomorrow's class! I stopped looking around me to see how far the Asian lady over there could go or, *gasp* what the white guy in the front could do.

Applying the question to your everyday life is where the money is. For me, publishing this blog -- allowing it to be public -- would be having a bona fide party with my ego! I haven't done it yet...but I'm getting there. What I did do was take it to Tahoe. I skied moguls and through powder (a first for me) while my friends watched and waited for me. I knew I was the slowest, least experienced person among us and I didn't let it bother me. I went at my own pace and had fun with my ego by trying new things (like speed!) and subsequently falling on blue runs and watching little kids zoom past me.

Having fun with our egos is like an invitation to play. Children at play fall when running too fast or being tackled too hard, yet don't know it was too fast or too hard until it's over. That's the beauty in it.  Children aren't worried what other people think and they're not thinking of themselves. They put themselves out there to see just how far/fast/hard they can go until they reach the limit. They adjust accordingly so that anything negative doesn't happen again. It has been said that we learn more from our mistakes than our successes, and having fun with our egos allows us to practice both.

I intend to use this metaphor similarly to how I calculate how many calories I've burned through my fear alone. It's always in the back of my mind and it pushes me to find the edge and step out of my comfort zone. Who cares what that Asian lady or the teenager on the ski lift thinks?  

Ommmmmm

I took my first non-Bikram yoga class last week. I have long-believed that yoga isn't a "real" workout, so I thought that doing the Bikram version would make it feel more real because I'd be sweating. Well, that was true in a sense -- I certainly did sweat. But I didn't like doing the same thing each time and often feeling very light-headed while doing it. So, I gave yoga up for a few years.

What brought me back was looking at fit people's bodies in magazines and on TV and reading that the one common denominator for all of them is yoga. From Madonna to Olympic athletes to everyday triathletes, they all swear by yoga. I went to a class at 24 Hour Fitness and I was pleasantly surprised at how HARD it was. Within 10 minutes, I was sweating -- surprise! While I'd like to believe that I could outrun or out-bike any number of people in the class, I was humbled by their flexibility and mental stamina. I couldn't "quiet my mind chatter" as the instructor reminded us. I couldn't hold many of the poses as long, or as deeply.

I felt quite refreshed after the class (though, admittedly, I went for a run that afternoon to get in some "real" cardio). I was amazingly sore for two days, and I dare say I saw a little more definition in a few places. In a nutshell, there were quite a few calories burned that day, from the activity itself AND because I was doing something new (and a little scary). I've already added the class to my calendar each Tuesday to continue working on my practice.

The Last Straw

It's 9:30 AM and you'd think I just finished a double espresso with a Red Bull chaser. My leg is bouncing, my stomach is jittery, and I can hardly sit still to type this. But I don't drink coffee and it's too early for the only way I drink Red Bull (with vodka). I'm hyped up on pure adrenaline.

I just hit send on an email to a man I used to consider a best friend and who used to be my boss. I drafted the letter with input from a group of friends to address our boundaries in helping him and his wife deal with her alcoholism. For me, the letter was much more empowering than that. I didn't get the chance to write a formal letter of resignation when I left my job, so I was able to channel many of those emotions and frustrations into this situation and monologue.

Friday was the last straw on a large load that has been weighing this camel down. After spending all day Friday caring for his wife, cleaning blood stains out of the carpet, and keeping his son and dog out of harm's way, I hosted a meeting on Friday evening with close friends to plan an intervention for them both to get them the help they need. I then drove to his house to talk with him face-to-face about the reality I had walked in on that morning -- dog locked outside with gate open; kitchen cupboards open, exposing cleaning products; one-year-old boy playing in the dog food and water (and hopefully not the cleaning products); wife on the floor, nose bleeding from a fall she had taken. Even now, remembering that scene instills a fear I have felt few times in the past. Instincts kick in and your body switches into survival mode.

He told me I was selfish for being there. He was angry that I had woken the baby up. He then proceeded to multi-task while I was explaining everything to him -- trying to make him see the dire need for full-time, professional help.  My anger was erupting. I left his house near midnight on Friday and spent the next two days exhausted.

On this Monday morning, having finally been able to say the things that needed said in a format where they don't dissolve into thin air, I now await his response with fear. I am afraid that he'll continue to belittle me, or worse -- that he'll want to get together to talk about it. I fear that he believes I have done something wrong. I mostly fear that I will continue to feel like this for even longer than the year it has been since he first showed me his true colors. I do not regret putting my thoughts and feelings onto paper and sending them to him. That fear turned to empowerment, and this new fear will as well. But only after it burns a few calories in the meantime.

Big Hairy Audacious Goals

Ah, New Years Day. A time for reflection and hope. While I'm a big fan of the idea that "hope isn't a strategy," a new year lends itself to look ahead at the opportunities that await us. But I've skipped right over the reflection part, haven't I?

I was contemplating 2009 yesterday and kept returning to the idea that it would be hard to beat. But let me digress for a moment... As I think of it now, 2008 was hard to beat (getting off crutches, running again, getting married, big party for wedding celebration, etc...). But back to 2009. I ended the year with a feeling of complete satisfaction, the way you feel after a good meal -- satiated, but not over-stuffed. As I really thought about the year in its smaller parts, I was surprised. I spent 9 months of the year being pretty much miserable in my job. In January, I "unfriended" someone who I had considered a best friend -- and who was also my boss. My job became a black hole to me and I struggled with some of the feelings I had in high school and college as I figured out what and who were "real" in my life. But alas! None of these things were at the forefront of my mind as I looked at 2009 as a whole. I was able to put that negativity aside and focus on the positive things from the year, and how I had brought those things to myself:

• Instead of continuing to slave away at the job for a man and a company who are going nowhere, I chose to put in my time and focus my efforts elsewhere -- largely my training schedule.
• I chose to not lie to myself, my boss, and everyone else and opted to take control and assume the risk of being Unemployed In This Economy.
• I completed two triathlons, one adventure race, and one half marathon. I was (am?) probably in the best shape of my life at age 34.
• I spent a lot of quality time with my family, making two trips back to the Midwest during the summer and spending a week with them at Christmas.
• I am happily married and I have wonderful friends who know the meaning of the word.

There are a lot of positives in my life and I choose to find them even when the negatives are prevalent. The past year was full of many challenges and I believe I overcame most of them with success. Hooray! Now, on to the year at hand.

I have said out loud that I have no intention of going back to a desk job just for the sake of having a job. If I find something that I really care about OR if things get really dire for us financially, I'll take a job with "the man." Otherwise, I have my sights set elsewhere:

Number 1 Resolution for 2010:
Write my book

There, I said it. I wrote it down and now I have to do it. I'm working on a plan, and even working on transforming our second bedroom into an "office" with a real desk and everything. I am not scared of failing in terms of not finishing it. I WILL get it done. I am more fearful that it won't turn into anything or that I'll find someone to publish it and it will otherwise be poorly received. The thing I'm trying to focus on is finishing the task that I have said I would do for several years (and finding the positive in how many calories I'm burning in the meantime, just worrying about all this mumbo-jumbo).

Number 2 Resolution for 2010:
Complete the Vineman Half Ironman

Burning calories is what you want? Train for a triathlon, that's what I say! I was surprised at how many calories my body required just to stay nourished when I was training for the Santa Barbara Triathlon last year. The Vineman is a Half Ironman, which will be my longest event to date: 1.2 mile swim + 56 mile bike ride + 13.1 mile run. Greg signed up to do it, and then I was "encouraged" to do it by our friend Mike Kidder when I saw him in Kansas City just before Christmas. I agreed that this will be a good challenge for me and I psyched myself up to do it -- but not psyched enough to actually REGISTER that day (December 18). No, I waited until January 1 and found that the event has filled up and that the wait list closed on December 24. Hmmph!

Mentally preparing for a race like that is difficult. Physically preparing for a race like that is grueling. Worrying how you're going to get a registration ticket for that race is the worst. I was/am all set to find a swim coach to help me with my weakest link. I've been steadily improving my times on the bike and run. I love Kidder and his family, and it would be a great event to do together in Sonoma in July. I just need a ticket!

Happy New Year!