I’m typing this while riding the T to work, because it is the only free time I have. I feel a little bit guilty about not biking or running to work, but I do have two workout outfits in my bag which will be quite used with about 2h of activity after work. I feel more intimidated about scheduling the 12h of endurance or lifting than I do about the effort required; I see a 1.5 hour day as a light workout and an inefficient use of time. I’m pretty damn lucky.
STRONG
But, this isn’t about feeling busy, this is about feeling strong at my core — standing upright, with tall, muscular confidence. This is about feeling confident in the pool, and this is about more than just working out. I am absolutely thrilled to have such wonderful friends with whom I can train (and complain), a job that is flexible enough to accommodate my schedule, a workout group that has florescent hugs waiting for me at 6:30am, and a family that has already booked a hotel up in Mont Tremblant.
SWIM
I found myself with a flair of anger and braggadocio after the swim on Saturday. Someone had tried to steal my entire lane from me instead of sharing it. She was swimming breast stroke deliberately in the middle of the lane, seemingly trying to scare or intimidate me out. She must have assumed that I would be uncomfortable with having to swim close to the ropes and someone’s kicking feet. I’m training for an ironman. No chance, lady. I don’t condone the aggressive nature, but it signals a growing confidence in my swimming.
BIKE
My ‘vélo has been wall art, not the tour-de-force she wants to be on the road. Hopefully soon the weather and road conditions will cooperate. In the meantime, I have been sweating it out in spin classes at the gym. Thanks to an asthma inhaler, I can no rock these workouts without the panicky feeling of my lungs desperately needing air. I am curious if I will grow dependent on this or if it will subside as I move to outdoor riding in reasonable temperatures. For now, I’m happy to be able to temper the suffer-fest my legs crave.
RUN
Heading out the door for Sunday’s long run, I was aiming for about 8 miles along the marathon course. Having only done about 4-5 at a time (to and from work at one point), I figured this was a stretch, but that the hours upon hours of bike, core, and swimming training would help me through it. And then I kept running. I kept hoping that I might see a friend on the course who was running towards me so I just added another bend in the road, and then another and another until I reached Wellesley. The pain in my arch (from autumn) came up at miles 4, 8, and then from 12 onward, but was otherwise reasonable. I still felt a bit lopsided (from boxing?), but consciously tried to level my shoulders and even my stride. Consciously thinking of form, I would straighten up and felt powerful and strong in my core — more than I have before. Whereas the way out was quiet, there were hordes of runners training on my way back. I ended up running with a man who would podium at Chicago’s world championship olympic distance triathlon. On Heartbreak Hill, I felt the tingles of energy flowing up the hill, a lingering presence from the emotional pursuits to achieve dreams.
EAT
Imagine stuffed french toast with creme cheese and strawberries, followed by chocolate ganache cake. Dinner and dessert were delicious. I was feeling pretty tired by mid-dessert, but attributed it to the morning workout. Then on the drive home, I felt overwhelmingly depressed. Nothing significant had changed in my life since sitting down at the table so what was going on? Having looked at several similar instances since, it seems that a large influx of sugar, particularly without anything to balance it, has consistently produced this effect to some degree. Now, a salad for dinner also isn’t the answer, but I’m on a mission to find the healthy balance that give me energy without the crash. Of course, I did enjoy a batch of pancakes with a half-tub of yogurt, half-jar of almond butter, wheat germ, syrup, and Nutella; 2,000 calories and a huge smile on my face.
SLEEP
Having done this about a half dozen times over the past two weeks, I think I have to just accept that I will hit the snooze button until I have been in bed for 7 hours. I might as well just set the alarm to be 7h+ from when I go to bed, or at least make it a conscious and rare exception to attempt otherwise. I might even need more time of undisturbed shut-eye as time goes on.
