42K

I believe I was under the residual influence of the ten minutes of "Yes Man" that I watched last Thursday while on the treadmill when I agreed to an hour long boot camp experience after my five-mile run.  I was still thawing out during our warm up so it wasn't until we were greeted with the workout, Sabados Caliente, that I knew I was in trouble.  I have worked my way through enough Duolingo to translate most of the items however I did get the opportunity to ask "cómo se dice 'vomit'?" to our coach before the set "C" workout.  [It's important to take every opportunity to increase one's vocabulary.]

At the end of the workout while cooling down over foam rollers [a love/hate relationship], I did get the chance to talk about books.  While I was trying to reign in my breath, another gentleman was recommending "Leading with the Heart" by Mike Krzyzewski.  Our household enjoyed sports and Coach K was always headlining discussions while I still lived at home.  I've added this to my list for inspiration since I also managed to agree to a LONG distance run in the fall.

Now You Sea Me

I'm working my way to the end of Seabiscuit and will be a little sad to let him go.  It's been an interesting look at the sport and to continue put a bit more context around the 1930s.  My next read will bring me a little closer to the present day with Ship of Gold in the Deep Blue Sea by Gary Kinder.  This was a title suggested recently by a colleague after talking about The Boys in the Boat.  The lead character is an engineer. And there's buried treasure.  Sounds like a fun combination.

Turnaround...

Nostalgia sometimes rolls in like the first dark evening after the time change.  Despite the fact that you had felt it coming for weeks, it still catches you off guard the first time you leave work and it's there.

Today I ran with headphones outdoors for the first time in years.  The city has a fairly strict "no headphones" rule so I've learned to run in the rhythm of footfalls, nature, and mind chatter.  My route was a path surrounded by trees with changing, falling leaves, near a small creek.  It was a mostly yellow rain.

With the musical accompaniment, I remembered the first time I ran for twenty minutes non-stop; I had been on a similar trail.  I could recall when every song was added to the iPod (and to which playlist) and I got a little verklempt at Five for Fighting.  (Don't judge).

I ran by the semi-circle turnaround for the half marathon (which was held earlier this morning) remembering the only time I ran the race was alongside one of the best work friends I've ever had.  At that mile marker, we sang Bonnie Tyler and made airplane arms. I remembered our last runs, his relentless cheering at my first triathlon  swim, and the Monday morning I spoke to his wife when she told me he was gone.

Today I let myself run into the feelings and not away.  On my way back, a gentleman commented on four strangers side by side for one brief moment on the trail.  Someone said "serendipity" and we all kept moving forward, each in our way.

Horsing Around

Sticking with the same era, I've moved to Seabiscuit:  An America Legend by Laura Hillenbrand.  With apologies to both horses, trainers and the state of Kentucky, I've realized that prior to this book, I had confused some of the accomplishments of Secretariat with Seabiscuit.  (As you may have guessed, other than the Triple Crown races, I have not had a lot of exposure to racing.)  It's fun to read another novel from the same time period with historical context but the sport hasn't pulled me in like crew.  Tom Smith, the trainer, has been my favorite character.  His style reminds me a bit of Ulbrickson (UW coach) as shared by Daniel James Brown.  Men of few words, skilled in their crafts, nontraditional and a little grumpy.  I'm looking forward to the final races of the book.

Husky Finish

Four flights later, I've finished The Boys in the Boat.  I cannot recall the last time I felt such suspense and thought "what will happen" to a story to which I already knew the ending.  Hailing from modest beginnings, I rooted for the guys from UW like brothers and more than once, I found myself using a Delta cocktail napkin to guide away an errant tear.  I was proud to be wearing purple at the finish.

This evening, I can't quite find the words to give a proper review but it's the kind of book that will give you heart on a discouraging day and cause you to want to read all the reference notes at the end.

Well done, Mr. Brown.

To Live Crew

My current book in progress is The Boys in the Boat: Nine Americans and Their Epic Quest for Gold at the 1936 Olympics by Daniel James Brown.  This title was a recommendation from a running friend last March.  I took a photo of the cover so I'd remember to re-visit and I'm finally working my way to reading it.

The book is fantastic.  I'm a little over the half-way mark and I'm completely absorbed with the characters and the small details about boats and rowing.  [I'm also enamored that the writer will make an appearance at The Whidbey Island Writers Conference.  I love that island.]  During my undergraduate degree, one of my fellow engineers was a coxswain.  At the time, I was not impressed but I have a tremendous amount of respect for her now that I have a little more insight into what she was doing.  

I'd recommend this book as an addition to your winter reading lists. It will inspire you.

It's a Buoy!

Just a reminder about our August book if you're reading along at home: Inside a Pearl: My Years in Paris by Edmund White.  My pearl from the day was an Ironman athlete and former instructor in the next swim lane who looked at me and said, "I didn't know you were swimming now!"

Here's to keeping this week afloat and to Paris in the summer.

My Cup Runneth Over

One of the most awesome things about working for a multi-national firm is the turn of conversation for events which occur on a four year rotation.  For the last week instead of running, kids, and lunches, it's "the schedule".  Who is playing who and when and how and where are you watching?  Button downs are replaced with jerseys and everyone has extra coffee.  

If you've never lived with a soccer coach and/or don't understand the fuss about a ball rolling across a green field, here are a couple of books lists which might inspire your inner "goal.":

Top 5:  The best soccer books by Charles Boehm

The 5 Must Read Books on Soccer by Joshua Robinson

Raising the Bar

It's not my usual day of writing but it hasn't been my usual morning.

The week has been intense, tiring, the five hour a night sleep because I've pushed the boundaries of work, play, and Skype.  By yesterday afternoon, I was spent and the last thing I wanted to do this morning was to awaken at 5:00, gear up the car and drive an hour to try my hand at open water swimming with my fellow aspiring half-iron training group.  I wanted to sleep in not publicly flail.  My post-reading-water-and-a-movie self reasoned that an 8:15 barre class would be a good start to the weekend.  I have never been to a barre class but have heard it described and thought, why not?  Knowing that it had a reputation for being quite intense, I was beginning at the Y; I knew they didn't have a bar but instead use chairs and add in a few other exercises.

"Chairs, I can do that."

So this morning, I snoozed my alarm until 7:38, left the house at 7:45 and arrived promptly to the gym at 8:00 for the 8:15 start.  So far, so good.  I knew the instructor, and she and another student helped me with the set-up.  Oh, and no shoes.  With all the props and bare feet, I had the thought that it was like Iyengar yoga.  This would be removed from my brain with the warm-up set.  The instructor mentioned planks.

"Planks?  I do those every day.  I've got this."

"Will I sweat?", I asked the veteran student?  "A little," she replied.

And so it began.  At the beginning of the class, I was aware there was music but at some point the echo of my heart beat replaced all rhythm emanating from those little speakers.  I was sweating.  Not the dainty sweat of the rest of the class but the "I just ran 5 miles" kind.  My legs trembled in spots I didn't know had muscles.  As I sip my coffee, I'm still trying to forget the words "pulse" and "tiny movements" and "on your toes."   ON YOUR TOES.  Who knew such words would cause my hips to scream for mercy as we did the "double-time" set.

We started to stretch finally.  I was excited.  "Are we finished?" I asked hopefully.  No, she said, "we're only halfway!".  Oh my.

Enter stage left:  planks.  On gliders.  GLIDERS.  Elevated.  "Just 10 more."  These were the words that nearly brought spontaneous tears.  I won't write the words that went through my head like a mantra, but let's just say they were "Holy".

"Gliders can be put away."  Grateful.

Enter an ab ball.  Not grateful.

Now I've used a ball once in my life to the entertainment of my sister.  Now I was miraculously rolled on it with my "heavy" weight set dangling over my body.  First set, fine.  Second set, burn, but fine.  Change to the smaller weights?  Mine were out of reach.  "I'll just use these so I don't fall off the ball," I thought with assurance that I had made the right choice.

Weights above my face?  Change hand position while arms elevated?  I began a series of earnest prayers entitled "Please don't let me drop one of these on my nose" while my arms trembled overhead.  And raised bridge with pulses on a ball?  I wasn't sure I would make it.

With the remaining energy and a "dig deep" pep talk, I finished the class.  Apologies to the person who uses my blue mat as I forgot to wipe it down after.  This thought only occurred to me much later.  I hope you'll understand and have forgiveness for a newbie with trembling arms and legs.

Namaste.

Take a Dip

Amazon provides many wonderful deliveries.  In 85% of the small Prime boxes, I receive paper items but there's a solid five percent devoted to the art of swimming:  goggles, fins, caps, and today, a swimming metronome.  The first time I swam with a metronome, I had flashbacks to seventh grade piano and a teacher who kept tempo with a pencil.  Now I'm much more relaxed and swimming is more akin to waltzing through the water with the occasional fox trot to jazz things up a bit.

With swimming on the brain and a soft spot for childrens' books, this NYT review caught my eye: Suitable Swimming:  ‘Queen Victoria’s Bathing Machine’ and ‘Elizabeth, Queen of the Seas’.  The Queen and an elephant seal will give you a mid-week lift.

Be a Part of It

Happy Saturday to our half-marathoners, yogis, wedding attendants, and readers! Hope you have a wonderful day!   I plan to see a lady about a little Liberty.

A Running Joke

3 weekends, 4 races, 1 photo

Last year I said I would never again run two consecutive half-marathons.  It was tiring, it was mentally draining and I didn't have much fun.  Also, it was tiring.  (That point needed a second mentioning.)  I ran one more race after the last half (a hot 10k) and then tried my legs at water-skiing only to find that after a few times up, my legs still weren't warmed up enough for a side split.  

[Pause for physical therapy]

When I started running again, I found myself surrounded by the most amazing group of people who didn't care how long it took me to run a mile or four.  They knew my emergency contacts and talked me through breathing exercises as I began like I did in 2006, one step at a time barely moving.  

[Winter interlude and a crazy girls' trip with a half marathon]

I was running and laughing.  I found that time wasn't the focus, it was the friendships.  Slowly over the odd beer and training runs, I found my March and April heavily scheduled and I spent more time at home, running with people I loved and admired.  I had already selected my goal race, but under the influence of reading water and friends who are Iron Athletes, I signed up for a few more races.  "Training runs" they were called. 

I ran the first "training run" in the pouring rain side by side with a pacer so I wouldn't go out too fast.  With a mile to go, I felt like I had a little left so I ran ahead and when I had crossed the finished line, I saw that I had beat my best time (PR) by one minute.  I had not set out to do this but I suppose the lure of getting rid of the soaking wet shoes was too great.  

I ran my HILLY goal race with the sole aim of beating my 2013 time.  I did this by nearly five minutes and shaved another minute off the previous weekend.  With the help of one of my dear friends pacing me, I have a new PR.

So this weekend's agenda was back to back races for a 32.6 mile challenge.  Saturday morning I was excited but Saturday afternoon I did reflect that racing decisions made over reading water are perhaps not the most sound idea. I finished both, pacing a friend yesterday to her first half in a year, and scoring a rather nice beer stein for the accomplishment of dual racing.

This morning, I'm still riding a little runner's high.  I don't feel terribly bad, just extremely thirsty, after the three week adventure.

I'm not a "race report" kind of girl, but my point, in writing this, is "never say never" kids.  

You are stronger (and crazier) than you think you are.

Running Down a Dream II

It's a double race weekend for me which means there is a fair amount of napping and hydrating today before the final morning jog tomorrow.  [Feet on a pillow has never felt so good and I want to hug the person who invented compression sleeves.]

Tomorrow afternoon I'll have a date with a book, some reading water and a cheeseburger.  See also: long nap.

Hope your weekend is a great one!

Field of Diamonds in the Sky

Friday photos on Saturday.  Welcome to the dry weather after the half-marathon deluge.  I knew I'd stay with my pacer when she asked me about the last two books I read.

Hope you are having a great Saturday!

Don't Panic

25 June 2013

Dear Banana Republic,

I am a big fan of your Non-Iron Fitted Long Sleeve Cotton Shirt.  For the 2014 Spring Collection, might I suggest that you consider including a water absorbent option for the career-minded female who after an eleven and a half hour day would head to the pool for her Endurance workout only to discover that she was not quite equipped for her long swim session?  I think this would be a very big seller, particularly in pink.

Sincerely,

A voracious reader who was clever enough to reference Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy to a forum of 107 yogis under a rocket but didn't manage to remember her towel*

*"A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-boggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough."
― Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy"  http://www.towel.org.uk/

Walk the Plank or Make a Lunge?

All the book news today highlights Dan Brown's latest work Inferno.  (You're on your own here.)

I'm going to buck the trend and go with fitness.  Related:  Did I mention later this week I will be donning a swimsuit outdoors for the first time this season?

Perusing recent stories in NYT, I discovered The Scientific 7-Minute Workout.  With a fairly nerdy background, I'm drawn to anything that includes the work "Scientific" in the title (as if this gives an article more weight.).  The NYT Scientific study takes about 2 minutes to read so it's a fine pairing for your morning coffee.  I incorporate many of the exercises into my weekly training but now I'm curious as to what could happen if performed sequentially.  Data set pending.

(Note:  read the Journal article if you want the science; NYT was just the hook.)

Ready to Run

One of my early memories of running is basketball practice in the sixth grade.  Coach Lady was a fan of suicide drills and whistles.

Next up, Freshman year PE class and the timed mile.  We were supposed to break six minutes running around the tennis courts.  (I don't know if I ever did.)

High school softball practice included running the perimeter of the outfield.  Our school was too small and rural for a Track & Field team so anyone who played another sport was recruited to run.  I wore a stranger's track shoes and started off the blocks.  I had no idea what I was doing, but I didn't drop the baton.

College running was on the football field as a wide-receiver.  Sprints didn't seem so bad if there was a ball in the air.

But I wasn't a runner.

Fast forward to 2006 when I decided to attempt to run seriously in an effort to get control of my life.  My partner at the time could run beside me backwards at the same pace I ran forwards.  I wasn't a runner.

I can remember the first time I ran 10 consecutive minutes and know exactly where I was when I ran 20 without stopping.  I ran two 5ks and then a half marathon, but I didn't call myself a runner.  

I logged thousands of miles.  I ran in a dozen states, three continents, at least five countries, and I owned more than one pair of running shoes.  And then I moved.  

I didn't know anyone in my new town so I ran without headphones.  I started to run with people.  One of my coworkers became a dear friend and we ran together step by step in 2011 for my second half marathon and his first in nearly two decades.  The night before the race, my yogi self attended a meditation class and our teacher asked us to find our mantra.  Mine inexplicably was, "I am a runner."

Now, I chant it when I jog.  It's on constant repeat for any mile after 10.  I embrace the label and yesterday when so many people sent me notes to see if my friends were okay, I know it to be true.  I am a runner.  

My heart goes out to the city of Boston, to runners, to spectators, and to those who use a different label for their "I am."

We are all different.  We are all the same.  

Author's note:  I hope you will forgive the absence to a book reference.  I've had running on my mind.

Fore

"Golf is the closest game to the game we call life. You get bad breaks from good shots; you get good breaks from bad shots - but you have to play the ball where it lies."

- Bobby Jones

The Masters, Augusta, GA
April 2013

Tri-bunal

Today was a swim-bike-run in not so perfect conditions day so I'm a little tired.

I'm rewarding myself with a glass of reading water and Nicholas Lezard's review of The Wet and the Dry:  A Drinker's Journey by Lawrence Osborne.

Hope your weekend has been splendid (and dry).

Beguiling a Stone

Tuesday, post stay-up-late to watch a sporting event that did not exactly go my way.  I have a gigantic mug of coffee to combat weariness and the melody for "Irish Eyes Are Smiling" stuck in my head.  As a small nod to my alma mater, I wanted a bit of Irish inspiration (and a new song to hum please, but I'll deal with that next).  Frank McCourt was on my mind so we'll use his words from Angela's Ashes as a bit of a mantra:

“Sing your song. Dance your dance. Tell your tale."

Hope your day is a great one!