For the life of me, I cannot figure out what the problem is. I simply have no desire to run, whatsoever. I've tried forcing myself and it's of no use. At the current time, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
I don't know exactly what happened, or when. I don't know if I did this to myself. I know that in the midst of some tough times lately, I've settled into a form of a bad rut that I cannot get myself out of.
The weight I've gained is almost unbelievable, even to me. The set backs I've had are becoming more and more numerous. I'm disgusted with myself more and more.
I'm far too humiliated to reach out to my running pals, ones I once went so many miles with and even mentored. While I have some confidence they'd be supportive, kind and motivating, I'm not ready to face them until I'm on my way back up. I know everyone in the world will tell me that it's friends and people who can help me get back to an acceptable level, but I know myself well enough to know that if I had friends pushing and pulling me up the hill I don't want to go, then I'd be filled with resentment and it might push me further into the gutter. So until I wean off this humiliation stance I'm in, I'm not reaching out much. I'm not quite ready for that, but I know in time, it will be welcomed and needed.
Just last night I had a dream about a mud run I was doing with my husband, my sister and my brother. My husband started late, my sister and brother [ both who have started running/walk-running in real life] were just ahead of me when we started. I turned a corner and I watched a group of cheerleaders in pristine clean cheer outfits carry an injured cheerleader off the course. My siblings were finishing the course. Running was impossible for me and at the very first corner, my siblings and my husband were done, and waiting in someones apartment. I said forget it, and went to the apartment where my sister gave me my medal and my shirt. I hadn't even gone 1/10th of a mile and they had finished.
That pretty well sums up my mental level these days. Sadly, that feels so much like reality that it scares me. [ well except the mud run...I don't like dirty. And my husband running. He'd be on the side drinking Pepsi and smoking] I see everyone running ahead of me and even if I tried to catch up, I couldn't and at some point, I just don't care anymore.
I'm done forcing myself to do this. Maybe my runner days are over. Maybe I did what I was supposed to do and that was it. Maybe those were my glory days and it just simply- no pun intended- ran it's course.
So why do I feel so damn guilty?! Why do I feel incredibly disappointed in myself?! Why do I feel like the world's laziest fool?!
I have two more runs I've already scheduled, Bay to Breakers and a Foam Fest in August [ yeah, me- doesn't like dirty OR heat, will embark on both in one day. oy] Both of these, if I actually do them, will be walked. While it might not shed any guilt or lame, no aim feeling, at least it's something, I suppose.
What gives me hope and encouragement is my big brother, who is so incredibly eager and interested in doing these 'races' and walking them only. That I can do. I think.
And the depressing part of all this....My sister started running long after I did. She soared. She's done awesome times, putting me to shame. I'm so proud of her! I feel terrible for not continuing this with her. I want to support her all the way, but in my heart and soul, right now, I just can't do it.
Call it depression, call it peri-menopause, call it laziness, call it stupidity....I don't have a clue. I'm fighting my way back and up to a level I can stand myself and while it might take a really long time, anything is better than this.
So here's to looking to better times....
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
The Non Directional Mess
I've been well aware of my increasing times, decreasing speed for awhile now, but with a lack of direction, ( and ya know, good eating habits and all the jazz) it occurs to me that I desperately need a plan.
I remember hearing and seeing for eons about 'signing up for a race will motivate and scare you into doing what you need to do'. Is that what I need?
This is somewhat familiar territory for me, as after my first 5k, I seriously had no idea what to do next. Work on speed? Work on running the full thing? Work on increased mileage?
I opted for increased mileage and did just that, all the way to the Half Marathon a year ago, but now, I don't even know what I want. There's a large part of me that hates running with a passion, there's also a big part of me that loves it, because I know exactly how freakin' hard it is, and it prides me to be able to say ' I did that'.
I am forever wondering why I do it. Maybe that's the problem. Why ask why, anyway? Does it really matter?
Okay, so let me pretend that a big race is exactly what's needed. I'm not ready to even consider a full marathon. Nope, not yet. Another half, perhaps. But with summer and hotter than hell weather coming up, I'm not sure about that either. The trouble is, I have no idea what I want. At all.
Why, What, Where, When, Who.....the list of never ending questions is making me batty.
In the end, what does it really come down to, anyway?
I remember hearing and seeing for eons about 'signing up for a race will motivate and scare you into doing what you need to do'. Is that what I need?
This is somewhat familiar territory for me, as after my first 5k, I seriously had no idea what to do next. Work on speed? Work on running the full thing? Work on increased mileage?
I opted for increased mileage and did just that, all the way to the Half Marathon a year ago, but now, I don't even know what I want. There's a large part of me that hates running with a passion, there's also a big part of me that loves it, because I know exactly how freakin' hard it is, and it prides me to be able to say ' I did that'.
I am forever wondering why I do it. Maybe that's the problem. Why ask why, anyway? Does it really matter?
Okay, so let me pretend that a big race is exactly what's needed. I'm not ready to even consider a full marathon. Nope, not yet. Another half, perhaps. But with summer and hotter than hell weather coming up, I'm not sure about that either. The trouble is, I have no idea what I want. At all.
Why, What, Where, When, Who.....the list of never ending questions is making me batty.
In the end, what does it really come down to, anyway?
Monday, March 10, 2014
Taking a Load Off
Another challenge came before me that of course I could not pass up- a series of races through A Change Of Pace Foundation, to complete a certain number of races they host and get more bling.
Now if you know me, I can't say no to bling. I love the bling on the walls of my tiny hallway, people bumping into them to make a clinking sound...just like champagne glasses- OK, not really. I had signed up for the Lucky Run, which was a nice 7K (4.34 miles) that I thought was doable without killing myself. I signed up, only to realize my two comrades were already doing the 7 mile route.
So of course, like I do, I crumbled at the least bit of peer pressure and switched to the 7 mile.....for one reason only.
We were walking it.
One friend is a walker. She's not a runner, might never be a runner, but she walks & she rocks. So there would be no running on this particular one, it was something I had never done before since I started running. Walk it all.
The first thing I noticed was the night before, there was not huge anticipation, no nervousness, no feeling of utter dread about the harder than hell task I was facing. It was a simple, relaxed anticipation. That was huge for me. The feeling of dread before a race is usually this enormous load on my mind, at times weighing me down like a piano sitting on my back. Never a good feeling, and lately? It's almost enough to get me to stay home. The feeling of dread appears worse and worse these days, as lets face it...running IS harder for me. Not doing anything in terms of cross training, eating bad, not hydrating...so of course I'm going to dread it. I'm making it 10X harder for myself.
So the concept of walking it was a new one and while I didn't completely discount the difficulty of it all, I knew it would be much easier than running it. Longer, but easier, sure. I loaded up and prepared as I would any race and we were off.
While I was glad for the change in pace and whatnot, I was baffled at the non-use of headphones. I was super glad to have two to talk to, but honestly, I'll admit I missed my headphones and the pump up music to get me going. But that being said, the conversation was great, I loved just chatting about everything and nothing all at the same time.
I guess one could point out that I've forgotten about walking. Just walking. My patience is the biggest issue here though. Less than half way through, I just wanted to be done....knowing we had a long time ahead of us, yeah, that was tough. But in the end, we walked it, we laughed, we bitched and we finished.
Now if you know me, I can't say no to bling. I love the bling on the walls of my tiny hallway, people bumping into them to make a clinking sound...just like champagne glasses- OK, not really. I had signed up for the Lucky Run, which was a nice 7K (4.34 miles) that I thought was doable without killing myself. I signed up, only to realize my two comrades were already doing the 7 mile route.
So of course, like I do, I crumbled at the least bit of peer pressure and switched to the 7 mile.....for one reason only.
We were walking it.
One friend is a walker. She's not a runner, might never be a runner, but she walks & she rocks. So there would be no running on this particular one, it was something I had never done before since I started running. Walk it all.
The first thing I noticed was the night before, there was not huge anticipation, no nervousness, no feeling of utter dread about the harder than hell task I was facing. It was a simple, relaxed anticipation. That was huge for me. The feeling of dread before a race is usually this enormous load on my mind, at times weighing me down like a piano sitting on my back. Never a good feeling, and lately? It's almost enough to get me to stay home. The feeling of dread appears worse and worse these days, as lets face it...running IS harder for me. Not doing anything in terms of cross training, eating bad, not hydrating...so of course I'm going to dread it. I'm making it 10X harder for myself.
So the concept of walking it was a new one and while I didn't completely discount the difficulty of it all, I knew it would be much easier than running it. Longer, but easier, sure. I loaded up and prepared as I would any race and we were off.
While I was glad for the change in pace and whatnot, I was baffled at the non-use of headphones. I was super glad to have two to talk to, but honestly, I'll admit I missed my headphones and the pump up music to get me going. But that being said, the conversation was great, I loved just chatting about everything and nothing all at the same time.
I guess one could point out that I've forgotten about walking. Just walking. My patience is the biggest issue here though. Less than half way through, I just wanted to be done....knowing we had a long time ahead of us, yeah, that was tough. But in the end, we walked it, we laughed, we bitched and we finished.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Finding the Passion: Is It Possible?
I recently read a comment on Facebook recently about someone who was irritated about not getting in her evening run.
"Nothing feels the same. I hate days I can't run." she wrote. She felt her entire world was knocked off balance as she wasn't able to do the one thing she loves. Run.
As soon as I read that, I had a mini surge of excitement, knowing that I would NOT be running that evening, and I was glad. happy. Elated. But of course...I also wondered why I didn't have the same experience. Why didn't I feel the loss of running when I wasn't able to? Why didn't I have the drive to run even when I didn't need to or didn't have time?
When I miss a running workout, I feel glad that I don't have to do it. It's hard. Of course I don't want to do it. Whether it's a buddy cancelling out, a twinge in my ankle, a scheduling conflict, whenever I'm am unable to run, my emotions are a mix of relief, happiness and guilt. I hate feeling happy over it, because I think I'm supposed to love it. But I don't. Still. I used to get a LOT more joy out of it, but then I worked harder at it too. These days I'm lucky if I get three runs a week in- and even those are 3 miles or less-. I'm confident there's a connection there, work harder, enjoy it more, but the motivation is lacking as well.
I feel like I have to keep revisiting this issue over and over and I whine about it every time. I have experienced that 'thing' in me that makes me feel like I'm on fire and cannot and will not ever stop...I love the feeling more than anything...yet it doesn't last.
Maybe it comes from not having a set goal in mind, maybe it comes from not having the 'whole' package of decent eating and exercise going on for me right now. Maybe I'm expecting too much, maybe need to account more, the fact that I have a full time job, a family and other 'stuff' going on all at once. In any case....something is lacking. Something huge. It has been for awhile, but I push on anyway. I'm thinking it's quite likely time to start reading again, the many books I have on the subject. The old issues of Women's Running and Runner's World magazines. Those usually can ignite a spark of inspiration.
What I do know, is that I've been stagnant for too long. Not a minute of cross training, little or no running training and I'm not happy with it. I don't know if I'll find the passion I'm needing, but I have to start somewhere, right? One foot in front of the other....I know this stuff like the back of my hand. I tell it to people all the time. Yet doing it for myself? Now that's the hard part.
"Nothing feels the same. I hate days I can't run." she wrote. She felt her entire world was knocked off balance as she wasn't able to do the one thing she loves. Run.
As soon as I read that, I had a mini surge of excitement, knowing that I would NOT be running that evening, and I was glad. happy. Elated. But of course...I also wondered why I didn't have the same experience. Why didn't I feel the loss of running when I wasn't able to? Why didn't I have the drive to run even when I didn't need to or didn't have time?
When I miss a running workout, I feel glad that I don't have to do it. It's hard. Of course I don't want to do it. Whether it's a buddy cancelling out, a twinge in my ankle, a scheduling conflict, whenever I'm am unable to run, my emotions are a mix of relief, happiness and guilt. I hate feeling happy over it, because I think I'm supposed to love it. But I don't. Still. I used to get a LOT more joy out of it, but then I worked harder at it too. These days I'm lucky if I get three runs a week in- and even those are 3 miles or less-. I'm confident there's a connection there, work harder, enjoy it more, but the motivation is lacking as well.
I feel like I have to keep revisiting this issue over and over and I whine about it every time. I have experienced that 'thing' in me that makes me feel like I'm on fire and cannot and will not ever stop...I love the feeling more than anything...yet it doesn't last.
Maybe it comes from not having a set goal in mind, maybe it comes from not having the 'whole' package of decent eating and exercise going on for me right now. Maybe I'm expecting too much, maybe need to account more, the fact that I have a full time job, a family and other 'stuff' going on all at once. In any case....something is lacking. Something huge. It has been for awhile, but I push on anyway. I'm thinking it's quite likely time to start reading again, the many books I have on the subject. The old issues of Women's Running and Runner's World magazines. Those usually can ignite a spark of inspiration.
What I do know, is that I've been stagnant for too long. Not a minute of cross training, little or no running training and I'm not happy with it. I don't know if I'll find the passion I'm needing, but I have to start somewhere, right? One foot in front of the other....I know this stuff like the back of my hand. I tell it to people all the time. Yet doing it for myself? Now that's the hard part.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Oh The Battles In My Head...
" I'm not going to do this. I'll send Katy a text saying I've got...uh...diarrhea and I can't go. Damn, I have her bib. Okay, I'll deliver her bib to the race site and come back home to sleep"
" No. Don't do that. That's not right. For God's sake you haven't even paid her back for the registration fees."
" I can't do this. Forget it. I'm not a runner. I quit."
" Oh shut the *&^# up and get your @ss out of bed. Whiner. Sh!t. No wonder you aren't improving your time."
"I just don't want to. It's lost it's appeal. It's not fun anymore"
" God, she'll be so disappointed. Okay, I'll go. But then I'm done. For good."
There it is.
The battle that loomed my head before I even finished hitting the snooze button my usual six times.
Had I been doing that last race alone, I'd never have gotten out of bed. Ok, so it's true...having a partner really DOES make you get out there. Especially THIS partner. My sister. If I never showed up for a race, she'd make me feel guilty, for a minute or two. But then seeing her move on, faster and better than me would kill me.
( as if she's not already way faster than me already...yeah, no logic there. Big surprise)
But...you know, it's not like she'd totally reject me if I didn't show up, right? I mean...she's family, she has to like me and be nice to me, or I'll tell mom.
Yes, this was the conversation in my head driving to the race.
My heart wasn't in this last one. Not surprising. I can't say my hearts really in any of them, because it's just hard. I don't like hard. I like easy and tasty. Running is neither of those.
I had had a weird twinge in my ankle a few days prior, nothing huge, but didn't seem to be an issue come race day. So I moved forward.
About 1/2 mile into it, I felt that ankle twinge from a few days prior. "Eh, whatever. It's not that bad." Not even allowing myself to think about hurt, pain, quitting....Nope.
By mile two, I knew I was in trouble. It hurt. Every damn step was like pounding nerves into my heel. I altered my gait, my feet, my strike to see if I could work with it. Nope.
I could still see Katy, and Company ahead of me, and still held the hope that I'd not come in dead last out of the group. I had not even considered quitting. I could still catch up with them. A burst of speed, another burst of speed and I can do that.
Meanwhile, there was a wonderful realization that I was not dead last. Because this was a charity race, there was a group of 'militaries' in their full camo and gear doing the race too. Most of them looked like the sh!t they carried on their backs weighed more than they did. That kept me going for a bit.
My left leg began to get incredibly tired. I realized that I was overcompensating, trying to relieve my ankle, only to be putting more weight, pressure and work on my left leg, namely my thigh. Ok, back off on the thigh. Less than a mile until turn around. I got this. I can still see my peeps. I got this.
Ohhh, no I don't. About .20 from the turn around, I see Katy on the other side, after the turn around and I knew I'd have to stop. She told me 'stop!' ' Wait for the others, sit down...' something to that effect. As If I was going to listen.
I decide I'm just going to turn around right then. I've never cut shirt a race before, but .40 on a 10K wasn't the end of the world. I still could get out about 5.8 miles. That's good. I can do this.
But sh!t, it hurts. I wonder what I've done. I might need to stop.
'nope, you've never gotten a DNF. No. Worst thing ever'
"oh whatever. It is not. If you are hurt you are hurt. There's no shame in a DNF"
' Really? So you'd be proud?'
" Well no...but isn't well being more important?"
' sure, so the guilt and shame can set in? that's not well being'
" true"
Oh God, here's the battle of my head again. One of these days I'm going to meet someone who can read minds and they'll petition to have my @ss locked up for being crazy. hell, even I'd sign that petition.
In the end, I did not quit. But I very likely should have. I hobbled more than I've ever done. Barely there. But I had to finish. I was glad to finish, but I did pay the price. The pain was horrific by that night, but I heal. I always have. I assume I always will. I wasn't proud, nor embarrassed by the decision I made. It is what it is. In the future, I'd like to think I'd know what to do, but no. I'll have to learn it the hard way...again. Like I always do. So is me.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Big Brother is Watching
My older brother has always been larger than life. Not only in his personality, but his size as well. To put his weight on here I fear will earn me a punch in the arm, but he has more than a couple of hundred to lose.
So at some point, and I'm not sure when, he started losing on his own. We started seeing the difference in inches, but he was frustrated since the scale wasn't moving. I noticed it for sure around the fall when it looked like he was a kid playing dress up in his daddy's pants. Huge clown pants that once fit well.
So he's mentioned before he wanted to start running. At his size, he knew it was a bit unlikely. But with more lost inches and more weight lost, he's decided to go for it.
I found a program for beginners, similar to the one I started a few years back and we both signed up to start 5k training. I was so very grateful that a few of my previous running pals were also in the program, so I had an instant comfort zone.
Thus far, I'm pretty impressed with Big Brother- he's actually shown up (on time!) to all the workouts, his humor and dedication are noticed and admired already by others and he's well on his way. Still being the giant of the group doesn't seem to even matter or hasn't even been noticed by anyone.
While browsing his weight loss helper site profile, I came across this....
My Inspirations
- Doing activities -participating in athletic events
- My sister doing things I WANT to do
- Changing my life for the better
- Looking good for women!
But overall, I'm glad I can help him. Good to know this running nonsense is...contagious!?
The Sisterly Standing Sprain
So in a previous post, I mentioned my sister had taken up running. Now right off the bat, I was excited to have yet another running buddy, someone to keep my ass off the couch, someone to slightly 'compete' with, someone to keep me going.
Little did I know, she'd be kicking my ass all the way to the finish line. Geez. But I still love it. While she's beat me pretty much in every race we've done, I don't care much. I do, though...have the goal to at some point kick her butt. Hasn't happened so far. But maybe some day.
In addition to her, she's recruited a few co-workers of hers, so it almost feels like a team effort. Quite fun, since we don't do all the races together, but usually have someone to partner with.
Our last race together was A New Years Resolution race. She beat me, of course, my vow to beat her had kicked in, but still didn't happen.
Afterwards, I finished, met her at the finish line, standing in line for something, lightly stretching, talking of times, she had grabbed my arm and in a panicked voice said " I did something. It hurts"
She had literally sprained her hip while standing. So she's been off for a few weeks to let it heal.( okay, okay, in all fairness, she likely did the sprain during the run, and it 'kicked in' while standing, but it's so much more fun to say she got hurt standing)
Yes, she sprained her hit standing. So sounds like something I would do. But I felt her pain. Injuries suck.
So here's to sprains while standing, getting old and at some point, being able to beat my sister. Happy times indeed.
Little did I know, she'd be kicking my ass all the way to the finish line. Geez. But I still love it. While she's beat me pretty much in every race we've done, I don't care much. I do, though...have the goal to at some point kick her butt. Hasn't happened so far. But maybe some day.
In addition to her, she's recruited a few co-workers of hers, so it almost feels like a team effort. Quite fun, since we don't do all the races together, but usually have someone to partner with.
Our last race together was A New Years Resolution race. She beat me, of course, my vow to beat her had kicked in, but still didn't happen.
Afterwards, I finished, met her at the finish line, standing in line for something, lightly stretching, talking of times, she had grabbed my arm and in a panicked voice said " I did something. It hurts"
She had literally sprained her hip while standing. So she's been off for a few weeks to let it heal.( okay, okay, in all fairness, she likely did the sprain during the run, and it 'kicked in' while standing, but it's so much more fun to say she got hurt standing)
Yes, she sprained her hit standing. So sounds like something I would do. But I felt her pain. Injuries suck.
So here's to sprains while standing, getting old and at some point, being able to beat my sister. Happy times indeed.
Staying Out of Trouble
Sometime in the early summer, I saw an opportunity to do another crazy that I couldn't pass up. Better yet, I decided kiddo would be able to do it with me as well.
The Tour De Rocklin was a 20 mile bike ride throughout a little foothills town near us. We trained for it, getting all the way up to 18 miles, had my first crash on a training ride, gave her a tour of CSUS, saw tons of wildlife, burned a bajillion calories, lots of good talks and overall a great experience.
The most notable training time was after a 14 miler, I really was thinking death. I could no longer feel my butt, my legs felt like electrified wood, everything hurt like a mother, and the fatigue truly had me wondering and wishing if the 11 year old would be able to drive us home. Putting the bikes on the back of the car rack took almost 45 minutes because of the severe fatigue, exhaustion, shakiness....it was horrible.
It was at this moment, I knew a 20 miler was out of the question. I couldn't do it. I couldn't expect an 11 year old to do it if I couldn't. After struggling putting the bikes back on the rack, I lay down in the parking lot, right there, likely on a bunch of bugs, glass and poop. I didn't care. I asked kiddo one question " So you still think we can do 20?" Already knowing the answer was a surefire 'hell no'.
Without a millisecond of hesitation the response was 'oh sure we can.'
Really? Huh. Okay, so I guess were still on. My heart soared as my mind thought 'oh shit'.
We carried on.
The Tour itself was....interesting.
First and foremost what sticks out in my mind was the damn hills! Now here's where I questions both my sanity and my intelligence like never before. Did you notice I mentioned the town of Rocklin was in the foothills area? Yeah, that part slid right past me too. We didn't train for hills much, we kept to the bike trail and did a few 'bumps' here and there. So the hills killed us. Luckily this wasn't a race, so we had all the time in the world. We carried on.
The second most notable was the road construction and the not so cool areas of fast traffic, no bike lane and no sidewalk. It was nerve racking to say the least.
Another notable was the crash of kiddo. This was shortly after she kept telling me 'Eh, I'm just not feeling it today' which I knew was translation for 'I don't want to do this.' So at that point, I decided to just see how it went. If we quit at mile 10, so be it.
The crash was slight, no injuries, but it was likely the first time I'd seen her crash and it was horrifying to me to see her flying off the road, off her bike. I think I was more freaked out than she was. Oy.
We carried on.
About more than the half way mark was a stopping area, with sandwiched, goodies, a café, and most importantly, a bathroom! We stayed to eat, drink, rest and stretch and then carried on. The second 'half' was nearly all downhill, we were rested, refreshed and ready to finish. It was such a proud moment for us both. Doing something neither one of us had ever done before. We simply wanted to accomplish it, to finish it...
And that we did.
The Tour De Rocklin was a 20 mile bike ride throughout a little foothills town near us. We trained for it, getting all the way up to 18 miles, had my first crash on a training ride, gave her a tour of CSUS, saw tons of wildlife, burned a bajillion calories, lots of good talks and overall a great experience.
The most notable training time was after a 14 miler, I really was thinking death. I could no longer feel my butt, my legs felt like electrified wood, everything hurt like a mother, and the fatigue truly had me wondering and wishing if the 11 year old would be able to drive us home. Putting the bikes on the back of the car rack took almost 45 minutes because of the severe fatigue, exhaustion, shakiness....it was horrible.
It was at this moment, I knew a 20 miler was out of the question. I couldn't do it. I couldn't expect an 11 year old to do it if I couldn't. After struggling putting the bikes back on the rack, I lay down in the parking lot, right there, likely on a bunch of bugs, glass and poop. I didn't care. I asked kiddo one question " So you still think we can do 20?" Already knowing the answer was a surefire 'hell no'.
Without a millisecond of hesitation the response was 'oh sure we can.'
Really? Huh. Okay, so I guess were still on. My heart soared as my mind thought 'oh shit'.
We carried on.
The Tour itself was....interesting.
First and foremost what sticks out in my mind was the damn hills! Now here's where I questions both my sanity and my intelligence like never before. Did you notice I mentioned the town of Rocklin was in the foothills area? Yeah, that part slid right past me too. We didn't train for hills much, we kept to the bike trail and did a few 'bumps' here and there. So the hills killed us. Luckily this wasn't a race, so we had all the time in the world. We carried on.
The second most notable was the road construction and the not so cool areas of fast traffic, no bike lane and no sidewalk. It was nerve racking to say the least.
Another notable was the crash of kiddo. This was shortly after she kept telling me 'Eh, I'm just not feeling it today' which I knew was translation for 'I don't want to do this.' So at that point, I decided to just see how it went. If we quit at mile 10, so be it.
The crash was slight, no injuries, but it was likely the first time I'd seen her crash and it was horrifying to me to see her flying off the road, off her bike. I think I was more freaked out than she was. Oy.
We carried on.
About more than the half way mark was a stopping area, with sandwiched, goodies, a café, and most importantly, a bathroom! We stayed to eat, drink, rest and stretch and then carried on. The second 'half' was nearly all downhill, we were rested, refreshed and ready to finish. It was such a proud moment for us both. Doing something neither one of us had ever done before. We simply wanted to accomplish it, to finish it...
And that we did.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Eppies Great Race....
July 20, 2013. 18 days after my 40th birthday, I embarked on my first triathlon. I had some confidence, some determination, some excitement, no clue whatsoever and more nausea than I'd ever had in a race. Great combination, let me tell you!
We had to start dark thirty in the morning to deliver the kayak to the staging area, then deliver the bike, across town and then deliver me even further out. Even waking up that early felt insane. We saw a few other cars with kayaks and bikes, so it was easy to identify what others were doing so friggin' early in the morning.
I had been having some issues with noise with my bike, something was scraping against something making a stupid noise. The man had fixed it, but of course, race morning comes and there it was. It was like the bike was screaming... " HEY! I'm a cheapy Wal Mart Bike! Who's with me!?"
But it was too late. Looking back now, WHY I didn't feel embarrassment beyond belief is a mystery. It all seems a blur now.
The minute I signed up for the race, I knew one thing I wanted. I wanted to get a photograph of Eppie Johnson, the founder of Eppie's Great Race. I had met him before, as he was a close personal friend of my boss. I guess one could say he was a bit of a Sacramento celebrity in his own way. I knew if I couldn't get a photo with Eppie, I could always ask the big boss many if he could arrange for Eppie to come in for a picture- after all, my company was a sponsor of the race, so a little favor might be possible, right!?
The race started and it seemed like everyone had on jet packs except for me. I just went with it, willing myself not to be last. The nausea had not subsided, food was barely there, a couple of bites of a protein bar abut an hour earlier was it. Could not possibly get anything else down. During the run, I remember thinking I needed to at least eat a Gu energy gel, but the thought of the sweet sickly sticky was more than I could bear. I skipped it.
On to the biking part, still had not eaten, but I was good. Of course my bike was one of the last remaining in the bike racks, but I was good. I hopped on and started out like wildfire. Since I knew the bike trail pretty well, I knew about where I was and how far I had to go, or so I thought. It was likely around mile 6 or 7 that I started to get blinding dizzy, lightheaded. I had to stop a few times, get off the bike, put my head on the seat and breathe for a bit. Drinking electrolytes helped, but still the nausea was simply not going to let me eat and keep anything down. I knew forcing myself to eat was not a good idea. Why I was starting to 'blackout' or whatever it was, I have no idea. Heat? Fatigue? Lack of nutrients? Likely a combination of all of them. It was such a lovely feeling though, let me tell you. I thanked my lucky stars a thousand times there were no photographers on the path.
At some point I got a phone call. I looked down to see it was my husband calling. Um. Yeah.
Normally I'd say screw it, not answer and carry on, but because I was damn near in an emergency state myself, I panicked and thought there was an emergency somewhere, and that's why he was calling. He asked where I was. What? Are you kidding me? "I'm at that point with the trees, oh and I can see the river." Was about all I had. I didn't mention the possibility of me blacking out in the middle of the bike trail, where no one knew where I was. No, didn't think to mention that.
The kayaking part was a relief. Almost done. The woman who I had run with earlier was with me and we were actually having fun at that point. We made it down the river, amongst the drunken rafters, college kids and idiots, and off we were. I had not seen another Eppie's racer in quite some time, so I assumed we were last, but who knew?
Yep, we were last. I was second to last, she was last. I saw my family & friends standing in the water, taking pictures, cheering me on. Kiddo ran up to the boat as I got out, and I ran to the finish line. I cried. My sister was there as I got my medal and later she told me one of the first things I said was " Dad is going to be mad, I forgot sunscreen!"
[My dear dad passed away from skin cancer in 2011, since then, sunscreen is my thing]
I ran up a hill, how I'll never know, to find my mom sitting with her walker, gave her a tearful hug and cried like an Olympian. Sheesh.
It was then, a woman I didn't know, pointed Eppie out to me. I hobbled over to him, and got my picture with the man who created the race. One of my prized possessions.
Roughly three months later, Eppie Johnson passed away. His last Eppie's Great Race was my first.
We had to start dark thirty in the morning to deliver the kayak to the staging area, then deliver the bike, across town and then deliver me even further out. Even waking up that early felt insane. We saw a few other cars with kayaks and bikes, so it was easy to identify what others were doing so friggin' early in the morning.
I had been having some issues with noise with my bike, something was scraping against something making a stupid noise. The man had fixed it, but of course, race morning comes and there it was. It was like the bike was screaming... " HEY! I'm a cheapy Wal Mart Bike! Who's with me!?"
But it was too late. Looking back now, WHY I didn't feel embarrassment beyond belief is a mystery. It all seems a blur now.
The minute I signed up for the race, I knew one thing I wanted. I wanted to get a photograph of Eppie Johnson, the founder of Eppie's Great Race. I had met him before, as he was a close personal friend of my boss. I guess one could say he was a bit of a Sacramento celebrity in his own way. I knew if I couldn't get a photo with Eppie, I could always ask the big boss many if he could arrange for Eppie to come in for a picture- after all, my company was a sponsor of the race, so a little favor might be possible, right!?
The race started and it seemed like everyone had on jet packs except for me. I just went with it, willing myself not to be last. The nausea had not subsided, food was barely there, a couple of bites of a protein bar abut an hour earlier was it. Could not possibly get anything else down. During the run, I remember thinking I needed to at least eat a Gu energy gel, but the thought of the sweet sickly sticky was more than I could bear. I skipped it.
On to the biking part, still had not eaten, but I was good. Of course my bike was one of the last remaining in the bike racks, but I was good. I hopped on and started out like wildfire. Since I knew the bike trail pretty well, I knew about where I was and how far I had to go, or so I thought. It was likely around mile 6 or 7 that I started to get blinding dizzy, lightheaded. I had to stop a few times, get off the bike, put my head on the seat and breathe for a bit. Drinking electrolytes helped, but still the nausea was simply not going to let me eat and keep anything down. I knew forcing myself to eat was not a good idea. Why I was starting to 'blackout' or whatever it was, I have no idea. Heat? Fatigue? Lack of nutrients? Likely a combination of all of them. It was such a lovely feeling though, let me tell you. I thanked my lucky stars a thousand times there were no photographers on the path.
At some point I got a phone call. I looked down to see it was my husband calling. Um. Yeah.
Normally I'd say screw it, not answer and carry on, but because I was damn near in an emergency state myself, I panicked and thought there was an emergency somewhere, and that's why he was calling. He asked where I was. What? Are you kidding me? "I'm at that point with the trees, oh and I can see the river." Was about all I had. I didn't mention the possibility of me blacking out in the middle of the bike trail, where no one knew where I was. No, didn't think to mention that.
The kayaking part was a relief. Almost done. The woman who I had run with earlier was with me and we were actually having fun at that point. We made it down the river, amongst the drunken rafters, college kids and idiots, and off we were. I had not seen another Eppie's racer in quite some time, so I assumed we were last, but who knew?
Yep, we were last. I was second to last, she was last. I saw my family & friends standing in the water, taking pictures, cheering me on. Kiddo ran up to the boat as I got out, and I ran to the finish line. I cried. My sister was there as I got my medal and later she told me one of the first things I said was " Dad is going to be mad, I forgot sunscreen!"
[My dear dad passed away from skin cancer in 2011, since then, sunscreen is my thing]
I ran up a hill, how I'll never know, to find my mom sitting with her walker, gave her a tearful hug and cried like an Olympian. Sheesh.
It was then, a woman I didn't know, pointed Eppie out to me. I hobbled over to him, and got my picture with the man who created the race. One of my prized possessions.
Roughly three months later, Eppie Johnson passed away. His last Eppie's Great Race was my first.
Try the Tri or Die Trying part II: The Bike
Roughly 5 years ago, my husband decided a great Mothers Day present for me was a family set of bikes. Alrighty then! I wasn't much of a rider at all, so we started with cheap Wal Mart Moutain Bikes. We got in several good miles on these bikes, no complaints, no problems. They worked for us.
So when Eppies came around, it occurred to me, from the pictures and the descriptions, I was about to be humiliated out of my skin in my cheapy little Wal Mart bike. The others seemed to all have serious racing bikes. They had fancy names I couldn't even pronounce. I'm sure many of them cost more than my car.
But after some consideration, I realized...I can't possibly compete with that. I'm not a 'serious racer' I don't plan to make the nightly news with my speed or grace on a bike. I really just wanted to cross the finish line. So I packed up my Wal Mart bike, and delivered it to the staging area among the elite bikes, cycling shoes, super poop helmets and the like. Again...I had to focus on the fact that I just wanted to finish. Not win, not impress...just finish without paramedic intervention.
The biking part I figured was my strength, as it was helluva lot easier than running and I had more experience on a bike than a kayak. I did train, I think my longest was about 10 miles, so I figured I was good on the bike part.
Looking back now this makes me both laugh and cringe.....read on.
So when Eppies came around, it occurred to me, from the pictures and the descriptions, I was about to be humiliated out of my skin in my cheapy little Wal Mart bike. The others seemed to all have serious racing bikes. They had fancy names I couldn't even pronounce. I'm sure many of them cost more than my car.
But after some consideration, I realized...I can't possibly compete with that. I'm not a 'serious racer' I don't plan to make the nightly news with my speed or grace on a bike. I really just wanted to cross the finish line. So I packed up my Wal Mart bike, and delivered it to the staging area among the elite bikes, cycling shoes, super poop helmets and the like. Again...I had to focus on the fact that I just wanted to finish. Not win, not impress...just finish without paramedic intervention.
The biking part I figured was my strength, as it was helluva lot easier than running and I had more experience on a bike than a kayak. I did train, I think my longest was about 10 miles, so I figured I was good on the bike part.
Looking back now this makes me both laugh and cringe.....read on.
Try The Trying Tri or Die Trying. Part 1: Ruby Rae
On July 20, 2013 I did my first Triathlon. Eppies Great Race has been a Sacramento staple for 40 years. The irony of my first tri being shortly after my 40th birthday did not escape me. In fact I took it as a sign of something amazing.
I had no idea what I was getting into. None. Nada. Zilch. But for some God known reason, that didn't stop me. I forged on full speed ( well not really) ahead and jumped in feet first. But I figured...I could run the 5.83 miles. I could bike 12 miles, I was sure. Kayaking...well. I had been kayaking before, twice.
I begged, bribed and blackmailed my husband into guying me a kayak with some 'leftover' money we had ( that in itself is quite the joke, as if it's really 'leftover'. Try more like 'skip the gas bill this month, I want a damn kayak!') I got a cheaper one, on sale and named it the Ruby Rae after it's color and my family initials. I loved her from the get go.
Sadly, so did kiddo. My first time trying her out, kiddo jumped in and went half way across the lake we were at. Meanwhile I'm standing on the shore like a damn food trying to gesture her to come in. She was hooked. Made me proud to get her into something so cool!
It was awkward, slow and unbalanced....Oh wait. That was me. But Ruby didn't seem to care. On my first day out with her, over an hour out and the amazing peace and tranquility I experienced was simply breathtaking. Not to mention the views, the wildlife, the drunken party animals in boats...yeah, the good stuff. It became a simple love and want, all the time.
I had kayaked on the lake around here several times before the race, never in the river. Never in actual moving water. It dawned on me shortly before the race that I could be in trouble. I signed up for a practice run course, in which we had plenty of instruction, and guidance, especially through the San Juan Rapids part of the course. From the 80 year old man to the 11 year old girl practicing for the race...I was the only one to flip in the rapids. Not cool. At all.
So I had to expect that I'd flip in the race as well. Oh well. I wasn't racing for a race, I was racing simply to do it. To finish, to add to my imaginary brag book, to add a sticker to my car...that was my goal.
The Ruby Rae did me well. Oh so well.
I had no idea what I was getting into. None. Nada. Zilch. But for some God known reason, that didn't stop me. I forged on full speed ( well not really) ahead and jumped in feet first. But I figured...I could run the 5.83 miles. I could bike 12 miles, I was sure. Kayaking...well. I had been kayaking before, twice.
I begged, bribed and blackmailed my husband into guying me a kayak with some 'leftover' money we had ( that in itself is quite the joke, as if it's really 'leftover'. Try more like 'skip the gas bill this month, I want a damn kayak!') I got a cheaper one, on sale and named it the Ruby Rae after it's color and my family initials. I loved her from the get go.
Sadly, so did kiddo. My first time trying her out, kiddo jumped in and went half way across the lake we were at. Meanwhile I'm standing on the shore like a damn food trying to gesture her to come in. She was hooked. Made me proud to get her into something so cool!
It was awkward, slow and unbalanced....Oh wait. That was me. But Ruby didn't seem to care. On my first day out with her, over an hour out and the amazing peace and tranquility I experienced was simply breathtaking. Not to mention the views, the wildlife, the drunken party animals in boats...yeah, the good stuff. It became a simple love and want, all the time.
I had kayaked on the lake around here several times before the race, never in the river. Never in actual moving water. It dawned on me shortly before the race that I could be in trouble. I signed up for a practice run course, in which we had plenty of instruction, and guidance, especially through the San Juan Rapids part of the course. From the 80 year old man to the 11 year old girl practicing for the race...I was the only one to flip in the rapids. Not cool. At all.
So I had to expect that I'd flip in the race as well. Oh well. I wasn't racing for a race, I was racing simply to do it. To finish, to add to my imaginary brag book, to add a sticker to my car...that was my goal.
The Ruby Rae did me well. Oh so well.
August 14, 2013
During my first 5k, I wrote all kinds of phrases on my arm to motivate me. One of them was " Do it while you still can"
What I meant back then was 'remember your brother who wasn't done living, and died before he got the chance to do some of what he wanted' . Life is short, we need to take every opportunity to do whatever we can to get through this thing called life.
Right now, I'm sitting on my sofa, with excruciating pain radiating through the right side of my body. I've looked several times, but there does not appear to be a chainsaw ripping me in half. No, this would be the pain of a damn kidney stone. I'm waiting it out to see if I can pass it on my own before heading to the ER to get doped up on morphine to pass the stupid little grain of sand that feels like a spikey tennis ball passing through me. So far, so good.
But oh it pisses me off to no end.
I had plans tonight to ride about 5 or 6 miles with kiddo. I could burn off some vacation fatty calories and she could burn off some before school adrenaline. Didn't happen. Instead I sat with my comfort blankie, water, lemonade, and the family watching "Lizard Lick Towing".
What I meant back then was 'remember your brother who wasn't done living, and died before he got the chance to do some of what he wanted' . Life is short, we need to take every opportunity to do whatever we can to get through this thing called life.
Right now, I'm sitting on my sofa, with excruciating pain radiating through the right side of my body. I've looked several times, but there does not appear to be a chainsaw ripping me in half. No, this would be the pain of a damn kidney stone. I'm waiting it out to see if I can pass it on my own before heading to the ER to get doped up on morphine to pass the stupid little grain of sand that feels like a spikey tennis ball passing through me. So far, so good.
But oh it pisses me off to no end.
I had plans tonight to ride about 5 or 6 miles with kiddo. I could burn off some vacation fatty calories and she could burn off some before school adrenaline. Didn't happen. Instead I sat with my comfort blankie, water, lemonade, and the family watching "Lizard Lick Towing".
I do this every time I'm sick, in pain, something comes up not allowing me to workout....I curse myself for not doing it while I still could. Another time it was when my mom was in the ER for a fall. Nothing serious, I needed to be there, obviously, never would have thought twice, but I missed a workout. I scolded myself for taking a break the day before, because I missed an opportunity.
While I'm not so sure this is 'normal' thinking, it does somewhat motivate me to do what I can when I can. The days I don't want to run, bike, swim, whatever...I secretly fear " what if I can't do it tomorrow?" and sometimes? It's exactly what I need to get out the door.
While I don't always remember it when I'm well, pain free, not in a time conflict...it sticks with me enough.
I suppose one should ask themselves, what would you do if there were no tomorrow?
Then again, I'm not so sure exercise would be on the top of the list. But it's an interesting thought anyway.
While I don't always remember it when I'm well, pain free, not in a time conflict...it sticks with me enough.
I suppose one should ask themselves, what would you do if there were no tomorrow?
Then again, I'm not so sure exercise would be on the top of the list. But it's an interesting thought anyway.
Yet Another Oldie....
I'm not sure when this was actually written, I think around June?
My latest race was my best yet, and my worst yet.
It was a 5k for a Sheriff K9 charity and while the big dogs didn't chase after us to get us to run, it was still really cool. My sister had agreed to sign kiddo up for the 1/2 mile kids run for kids 12 and under. When we got there, all of a sudden kiddo did not want to do the kids run. Almost refusing to. Instead she insisted on doing the 5k with me.
Thank GOD. She saw something I didn't. The group for the kids run was all boys, appearing to be between the ages of 6 and 8 years old. At 11 years old, she would have towered over them, and because she's not much of a runner, she would no doubt have been the slowest. Talk about a slam to the self esteem. Forget it.
It was a 5k for a Sheriff K9 charity and while the big dogs didn't chase after us to get us to run, it was still really cool. My sister had agreed to sign kiddo up for the 1/2 mile kids run for kids 12 and under. When we got there, all of a sudden kiddo did not want to do the kids run. Almost refusing to. Instead she insisted on doing the 5k with me.
Thank GOD. She saw something I didn't. The group for the kids run was all boys, appearing to be between the ages of 6 and 8 years old. At 11 years old, she would have towered over them, and because she's not much of a runner, she would no doubt have been the slowest. Talk about a slam to the self esteem. Forget it.
So we started on the 5k really strong, but slow. I knew I'd need to adjust my pace in order for us to stick together. I knew I had to stick with kiddo as it was her first 5K and I didn't want her to feel alone out there. That would have been horrible for her. Part of me was devastated as my sister was hoping to beat her previous time of 45 minutes. I loved the idea of setting a new record, so I was excited to push her along, while she pushed me along as well. Didn't quite work out like that, but I realized something immediately. I felt much much stronger on this particular race. Perhaps because kiddo walked most of it, perhaps because I was going much slower than ever, but I really felt strong and fast. I'd have a burst of speed and then jog back to where kiddo was. It killed me to not just zoom ahead with everything I had. But I couldn't leave her behind. I was so proud that she was willing to do the distance with me, and I know how much she struggled with it....I actually think she hates running. A feeling I know all too well.
So while I had the slowest time of a 5k ever, nearly an hour ( official time results didn't post...too slow?!) It was my worst time, but also the best strength I think I've ever had. So. Frustrating. Slowest time, most strength.
I'm beginning to think that maybe there's something to that. Slow slow slow equals lots of power and speed later? I know I've been told a hundred and forty-nine times to start off slow, leave some energy in the tank and then increase speed as you go along.
While I think I've done that, now I question my method.
I'm almost excited to run again to test that theory. Almost.
So while I had the slowest time of a 5k ever, nearly an hour ( official time results didn't post...too slow?!) It was my worst time, but also the best strength I think I've ever had. So. Frustrating. Slowest time, most strength.
I'm beginning to think that maybe there's something to that. Slow slow slow equals lots of power and speed later? I know I've been told a hundred and forty-nine times to start off slow, leave some energy in the tank and then increase speed as you go along.
While I think I've done that, now I question my method.
I'm almost excited to run again to test that theory. Almost.
No, It's Not What You Think....Really.
I did not, in fact get swallowed up by a lion. I did not die, I did not sit on the couch and never get up again. I did not move to the country without Internet access. I'm here.
So where the hell have I been? Um....yeah, I got nothing.
To be fair, the avenue that I usually write on was shut down for a bit with some stupid computer thing, so I wasn't able to access for awhile. I did not forget this dusty old blog though...I really didn't. In fact...I wrote quite a few entries and sent them to myself via email. Yes, I do often email myself.
So here's entry number one....
August 13, 2013
So where the hell have I been? Um....yeah, I got nothing.
To be fair, the avenue that I usually write on was shut down for a bit with some stupid computer thing, so I wasn't able to access for awhile. I did not forget this dusty old blog though...I really didn't. In fact...I wrote quite a few entries and sent them to myself via email. Yes, I do often email myself.
So here's entry number one....
August 13, 2013
I've not posted in so very long...and there's a reason for that. Kinda. Sorta. Maybe.
The truth is, I don't feel much like a runner these days and am questioning whether I really am or not. Do I even want to be? it's a hard call. I've discovered so many other activities I really do truly love and sadly, I'm not so sure running is one of them anymore.
While training for the Eppie's Great Race Triathlon, I had to train for biking and kayaking ( it's a non-swimming tri, first of it's kind!) I got so used to biking and kayaking and realized I loved both. Then there was swimming. Due to some hotter than hell Sacramento days, I was forced to the pool for workouts. I absolutely refused to workout outside when it's a blistering 104 degrees. Or 94 degrees for that matter. I'm not a heat person in the least. Chances are if you know me, or at least read any entry in the summer months, you've heard me bitch. A lot.
I set out by swimming laps, which I already knew was good cross training, so I did it. A lot.
The truth is, I don't feel much like a runner these days and am questioning whether I really am or not. Do I even want to be? it's a hard call. I've discovered so many other activities I really do truly love and sadly, I'm not so sure running is one of them anymore.
While training for the Eppie's Great Race Triathlon, I had to train for biking and kayaking ( it's a non-swimming tri, first of it's kind!) I got so used to biking and kayaking and realized I loved both. Then there was swimming. Due to some hotter than hell Sacramento days, I was forced to the pool for workouts. I absolutely refused to workout outside when it's a blistering 104 degrees. Or 94 degrees for that matter. I'm not a heat person in the least. Chances are if you know me, or at least read any entry in the summer months, you've heard me bitch. A lot.
I set out by swimming laps, which I already knew was good cross training, so I did it. A lot.
I know kayaking is not a workout in itself too much, but it sure is fun. The fact that I cannot do it alone frustrates me to no end, but it is what it is. ( I cannot get it on the roof of the car, nor take it down, nor carry it to the water myself)
And then there was biking.
I realized biking was one activity I could completely do with kiddo, as she loves to bike as well. Mornings, evenings, weekends, the streets are always there, and living in the area that we do, we are so incredibly lucky to have an amazing bike trail along the great American River. It's beautiful, paved, and it seems there are endless areas to explore.
So what about running?
*Sigh*
And then there was biking.
I realized biking was one activity I could completely do with kiddo, as she loves to bike as well. Mornings, evenings, weekends, the streets are always there, and living in the area that we do, we are so incredibly lucky to have an amazing bike trail along the great American River. It's beautiful, paved, and it seems there are endless areas to explore.
So what about running?
*Sigh*
I absolutely don't want to give up what I've accomplished. No way. I don't want to stop. I fear of losing my 'skill' and my ability thus far. There is one reason even better than that is that my best friend aka my sister has also taken up running 5K's and therefore I keep finding myself doing races here and signing up there. For now, I'm terribly grateful that she's doing so, because otherwise I fear I'd simply stop. I hope she wants to continue. I do want to continue, but running + heat simply doesn't work for me. So what if I were to take off say May through....October? We'll see.
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