I feel the need . . . the need for speed. (Oh yeah, and knowledge too.)

Being able to work out is something I feel thankful for every day.  Being able to understand it, and feel myself getting fitter, is right up there with it. 

It’s taken me quite a while to understand the physiology and psychology behind training.   I used to get up, look at my planned time, and do my workout – not much more.  50 minutes of running was just 50 minutes of running.  If I felt bad, I skipped the workout. I really thought that's all there was to it.

Unsurprisingly, during my weekly workouts, I used to feel defeated because I was slow, or because I was afraid people would say I wasn’t a “real” triathlete if I didn’t finish x race in y minutes.  Now I usually don’t gauge my success by how fast I am; instead, I go by how I feel.  And now, when I feel bad, I’ve ditched the all-or-nothing attitude and I resolve to do as much of a workout as I can.  This took me the past 5 years to learn.  But, in all areas of my life, I’m making a sincere effort to be process-oriented rather than outcome-oriented, and that’s bled over into my training. 

Heart rate is such a great way to measure progress; it helps me focus on the process of maintaining a low HR during the workout instead of obsessing about the outcome (pace).  Today’s run was a great example:  I did my speed run for the week, and although I’ve been faster, I noticed that it was extremely easy to keep my heart rate in my target zone, and that it returned to that zone quickly after each set of strides.  That’s something that has also taken me several years to master.

It was an awesome run.

The coaches agreed with me that doing some “barometer” races on the way to Augusta is a good idea.  I even have 3 or 4 in mind, and there are factors to consider for all of them, but I’m really just enjoying my training so much that I don’t feel pressured to race. 

Going back to being a “real” triathlete . . . I guess I don’t really consider myself a triathlete . . . just a person who does triathlons.

Funny how much easier it is to enjoy the process when you’re not so worried about the outcome.

Common Damn Sense (aka Help, I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up, Part Deux)

Since I'm on such a roll with these decisions I've been making lately, I decided to make another!

Remember when I said I wasn't waiting to sign up for Augusta just because of my health problems, and that I didn't want my health issues to hold me back?  I still mean that.

But I kinda forgot I'm a cancer patient.

I know, I know - this is a GOOD thing (forgetting.  But, at least until my ultrasound comes back clean and I don't need a full-body scan in May, I have to be careful with my decisions affecting the summer.  There is, of course, the tiniest chance that I may need the full-body scan, and more radioactive iodine, which means I will need to be off my synthroid and totally hypo for 3 weeks to 3 months.  By the end of the first 6 weeks on no thyroid hormone, I will have a hard time getting up for work daily, let alone walking - and forget training.

So, while I'm not letting my health STOP me, I'm also not making a 200-300 dollar decision before I know what my post-cancer life will be.

Common Damn Sense.

In other news, the B bought me flowers for the first time and my last few workouts have been going great.  I've been proceeding as planned and feeling like a Rock Star every time I complete one!  So, full speed ahead!

Help, I've fallen, and I can't get up!

Because I believe humor is a major element in diffusing tense situations, I possess a general proclivity (often irreverent, and bordering on inappropriate,) to humor-ize even the most somber moments.  (Also, to create my own words.  Topic for another day.)


FOR example: when my oncology nurse wheeled in my dose of radioactive iodine, I snapped a quick picture of the biohazard sign on the container.  Then when they ran a Geiger counter over me to ensure I was contaminated, I laughed incessantly.  The idea of being a walking mini-Chernobyl just seemed preposterous.


So when a bad episode of vertigo hit yesterday, and I tripped and fell - knee-skinningly hard - on the way into a restaurant, I walked up to the hostess stand (which offered a prime view of my spill) and quipped, "Guess they oughta keep me out of the bar today!"


The truth is, the whole thing was kind of scary.  I've had vertigo for over 6 years, so spinning rooms and really crazy swims are de rigeur.  But I've never actually fallen.


I know, lots of people trip and fall, and my vertiguous ass has certainly stumbled in public (let's not even discuss drunken falls), but for some reason falling like this bothered me in a way your average stumble wouldn't.  Not having control over my balance - that's just another level.  I mean, 31 is WAY TOO YOUNG to be the "help, I've fallen, and I can't get up!" lady.


Of course, I did NOT work out.  My day was already jam-packed: a massage, pedicure with a friend, studying, workout, and more - all following work at Big University (My Small Liberal Arts School project is on break and I work at Local Technical College tomorrow).  After all that, plus the tumble, the idea of spinning during a swim, falling off the bike, or taking a faceplant on a run were just not appealing.  I took some medicine, cut my errand list down and just finished my grocery shopping so I could get home.


The person who usually inspires me to consider things, once again, asked me a pointed question: shouldn't you wait to enter Augusta until your health is more stable?


My answer: NO.

My answer was “no” for many reasons.   For example: this is only my first week back to training; I’ve been training off and on since the marathon; I’ve successfully trained at an aggressive Olympic volume (VERY close to Half Iron) very recently; my health is more stable than it has been in years; I’m undergoing a new type of treatment that should improve my vertigo; and this is only one workout missed in the first week of the maintenance plan that bridges me TO my 70.3 plan which doesn't even start for another 8+ weeks.

But, more than that, my answer was NO because I absolutely refuse to let my limitations stop me from pursuing my career and fitness goals.

Seems both tenacious and noble, but could be a recipe for disaster.  That’s why I’m deferring to common sense in ALL cases.  I’m not going to create a situation where training (or racing) takes priority over my health.  But, as long as my previous experience indicates that I am perfectly capable of training and racing successfully, and as long as my track record also demonstrates that actively training, even racing, IMPROVE my mental and physical health, then there is ABSOLUTELY no WAY in HELL I will let missing a workout here or there hold me back.

Life happens.  Even people without major health issues find themselves missing a workout here and there.  As long as I have my physician's approval, it's all systems go.  When I miss a workout, I'm treating it just like a "well" person would: shrug it off and move on to the next day's.

Today is the first day of the rest of my training plan

Honestly, I was shocked at this week's plan (and its extremely low volume), but when the coaches agreed with it, I rolled with it.

I'm already glad.

This morning's workout was originally scheduled as a brick, but poor Ruby hasn't been out on the road in a week, so I didn't realize her tires were desperately in need of air.  The extra couple minutes it took for me to fill them cut out my run time - which is fine, because I already have two mini-bricks later this week.

This is what this early plan is all about.  Building up my efficacy and ability slowly.  So there's no need to get all crazy-like the first day of my workout back.

The weather was brisk - about 48 degrees - so I threw on a compression tee and tights under my jersey.  And, in a bold move, I opted NOT to wear my cycling shorts over my tights.  (I do this sometimes on short rides to develop what I call SST - Skinny Seat Tolerance.) 

After that, there isn't much to report . . . averaged about 15.2 mph, didn't get stuck at many stoplights, and except for the holyfuckmyfingersarefreezing sensation caused by forgetting my gloves, it was an ab-so-lute-ly perfect little ride.

 

Later on in the evening I had a delicious piece of venison and some fresh spinach, and as a special treat I made tiny potatoes.  I think I've expressed my general apathy about carbs in general, but I've made a serious effort lately to eat veggies instead of starches.  I have to say, the overall experience of eating only veggies is more satisfying than including a traditional "carb." 



They taste about 1000 times
better than they look!

Since I'm helping the B work on his eating as well, and since he frequently looks for some type of dessert after dinner, I made whole-wheat, bittersweet-chocolate-chunk cookies.  You'd never know they were also low fat and lower sugar.  Even this non-carb, non-sweet fan gave them 2 thumbs up. 

Tomorrow I think I'm supposed to meet with the math tutor for more GRE-approved goodness.  I've been hitting the vocabulary SUPA HARD (in fact, if I weren't so tired, I'd be using some of my fascinating new words to write this blog.)

Tomorrow is another day.

Some People Drink Coffee . . . .



I drink Whoop-Ass in a Can

As I'm sitting here drinking my Whoop-Ass in a Can, I'm thinking again about The Fifth Discipline.  Training resumes on Monday, when I will adopt an 8-week maintenance plan on my way to a 20-week Half Iron plan.  Needless to say, I am feeling a bit on the lazy side from not really working out.  I know I need the rest, but I'm ready to really get back into a workout routine. 

I feel pretty . . . well . . . fat.  There's just no nice word FOR it.

 

Me at Miami Man at 168

As it is for most women, my weight a complex subject, further complicated by my lack of a thyroid.  I could explain that I am currently at the 3rd-heaviest weight in my life, but I have lost 16 pounds since my surgery last year, that I have lost 5 pounds eating clean, but that technically it's only 3, but even that's not really a loss because it's only a return to triathlon training weight  . . .  and then, as I type all this, something in my head says who gives a shit if people know what the f*(k you weigh?



 I mean, you all know I'm an Athena, so you all know I'm over 150 pounds, and you know I have no thyroid, and you've seen pictures of me - so, no doubt, you could make estimates in your head.  


At my graduation awards
ceremony at 175+



Besides, to be completely honest, I've gotten past the point in my life where the numbers on the scale matter.  Now, what really matters is being comfortable in my own skin - being comfortable in my clothes and in the mirror are secondary.

So I'll skip the fol-de-rol and tell you that I am currently tipping the scales at about 164 pounds.  During my thyroid woes, before the surgery, I was in the high 170s, and at the time of my radioactive iodine treatments, I had gained several pounds and was about 182.  



Me on New Year's Eve at 168

As long as we're talking about numbers, I am proud to say that I have also become comfortable with my body fat, which is about 28%.  Body fat calculators expect women of my size the be about 45% body fat, and the American Council on Exercise considers anything over 32% obese.  Since between 25% and 31% are their "average", even though I am *quite* overweight for my height, I have ALWAYS maintained a healthy body fat percentage through exercise, even at 182. 



As anyone who's ever kicked an eating disorder can tell you, even after you recover from negatively associating all matters related to food, eating, and weight with negativity and anguish, you find that your self-talk needs to be stripped of the same habits (since, freqently, the self-talk was the foundation for the disordered eating.)  And returning to healthy thoughts about eating and about myself have been a lifelong task. 

I have almost completely covered the eating side.  However, even though my weight has become a neutral number, learning to discuss myself in uncharged, positive terms is another story altogether.

It's hard to eschew words like lame, lazy, stupid, etc. when describing even my weekend, because I grew up thinking that kind of language was harmless and acceptable.  If I focus on it, I can easily make non-judgemental subsitutions for my word choices.  But, if I don't, then my subconscious or unconscious takes over and I find myself making less-than-kind self-observations in an attempt to be succinct.

What I do know is this; if I have managed to become comfortable enough with myself to share my trials publicly, then I feel like I've conquered part of the battle.



Me Before New Orleans at 166



There's a great message to the new Lady Gaga song Born This Way.  Love her or hate her (or pop music in general), you can't deny the power of the lyrics:

Mama told me, when I was young

We are all born superstars

She rolled my hair and put my lipstick on

In the glass of her budoir

Nothin' wrong with lovin' who you are, she said,

'Cause he made you perfect, babe

Just hold your head up, girl, and you'll go far

Listen to me when I say:

I'm beautiful in my way, 'cause God makes no mistakes



I'm on the right track, baby, I was born this way

Don't hide yourself in regret, just love yourself and you're set



I'm on the right track, baby, I was born this way

. . . .Whether life's disablities left you outcast, bullied, or teased

Rejoice and love yourself today, 'cause baby, you were born this way . . .

I may not be there yet - but I'm on the right track, baby.

Don't Let the Bastards Get You Down

Sniff sniff . . . as empty as the day I moved in

The moving project is officially finished! There are still a few boxes in our garage, but the storage unit is packed, my old place is empty, and by Monday I will officially be a non-homeowner again . . . and 100% shacked up with the B.

The emotions I’m experiencing are a subject for another day’s discussion.   This means a lot of things for me, from loss of independence to financial stability.  And stability in general is something I've really struggled with the past few years, so I embrace any semblance of it!  But it is, nonetheless, a HUGE life change.

Anyway, during our first Date Night in weeks, we were discussing my 2011 race plans. He told me he liked the DetermiNation experience so much he’d like to do it again next year.  Then he suggested: what if you make it your goal to do a RACE in every state, not just a MARATHON? Then you don’t have the pressure of doing multiple marathons AND triathlons every year unless it works out for you.

Huh!  Maybe I keep him around for a reason.

So I re-tooled my 2011 and 2012 race schedule, now aiming at Augusta 70.3, which is in September. This replaces the second marathon of the year, as well Florida 70.3 in May. Next year, I will do Florida 70.3 in May and a fall Marathon for the American Cancer Society as my “A” races. (I’ll update my page LATER.)

. . . which leaves me with the rest of this week to recover from the sinus infection and then 28 weeks to train.

I’m pretty excited about that.

Except for this feeling of guilt for not doing anything right now that’s dogging me. Someone should have warned me to pack my bags for this guilt trip.

Thar she does/doesn't blow

I tried to run on Monday, but (beware, this is gross,) I coughed so hard I peed myself and then was unable to breathe between the asthma and sinusitis. I set up the trainer in the living room, but have been too exhausted to ride after work. And every day during the week has been dedicated to moving and closing. But, aside from Monday’s failed attempt, I haven’t “officially” worked out in almost 2 weeks (the last time I did, I came down with the sinus infection.) The panic that I may lose fitness, along with the feeling of being a worthless sloth, is becoming unbearable.

So, I guess I’m packing my (cycling) bags tomorrow and seeing how I feel on a ROAD trip.

Speaking of feeling guilty, Lent began yesterday. As far as religion goes, I'm on what I call the "Cafeteria Plan," borrowing elements of Lutheranism (Protestantism in general) and mixing it in with Catholicism, Taoism, Buddhism – even a little Islam. But, for some reason, I revert back to my militant German-Lutheran roots and give up something for Lent almost every year.

The idea of making a personal sacrifice to demonstrate support for one’s beliefs is not foreign to marathoners and triathletes. Many of us give up all kinds of treats to train and race: wine, chocolate, French fries, sex, time with friends and loved ones, and more. I always appreciated the symbolism of Lent because I am already so familiar with the concept.

But what the hell would I ditch?  I already gave up my one teaspoon of sugar in my coffee, what little processed food I did eat, and a ton of carbs. I can (sadly) say this: it’s been so long since I regularly had a glass of wine that last night, after I poured myself a glass of malbec, it was so unsatisfying that I swapped it almost instantly for jasmine tea.

I sho’ did.

But there’s another part of me that thinks the exercise is pointless. I mean, seriously? Give something up to demonstrate my faith? That insinuates that I am in need of abandoning my indulgence and gluttony. That I’m a Dirty Sinner in need of reform.

And I’m already kinda on a guilt trip, what with the whole not-working-out-the-past-week thing.

So maybe I’ll give up guilt trips for Lent.

I thought very seriously about giving up Facebook. As you know, I’m already on something of a hiatus from the social networking world. (Keep in mind: for someone who once updated her status semi-hourly, visiting once or twice a week is a hiatus.) In fact, I even made a bet with one of my friends that I could stay off Facebook for the next two weeks, so what’s an extra week or three?  After all, it's been bothering me lately anyway.

And, as one of my old bosses used to say, don't let the bastards get you down, MAJ.

No better way to do that than to avoid the bastards altogether.