Category: Exercise

Peacock

~ meh ~ 2 Comments

urlphoto via

I’ve been doing a lot of yoga lately.  I like it for a few reasons:

  • Most of my exercise routine is cardio (running, swimming, (kind of) biking), so the change of pace is nice.
  • Trainers and PTs have consistently told me since breaking my back that hamstring flexibility and core strength are particularly important for me to maintain.
  • Since breaking my elbow I’ve been wary of weights, so I find this and TRX to be a nice alternatives for strength.
  • It makes my arms look good.

There is only one class I really find challenging and worthwhile.  I love it.  And not just because the teacher, who is most definitely stoned all the time, plays music during class and every time a Grateful Dead song comes on walks by me and goes, “Hey, California!”

There is one drawback: his favorite pose is this thing called peacock.

peacock yoga

That is peacock.  And, like most yoga poses, no, I have no idea how that resembles a peacock. At all.  And yes, it’s as ridiculous as it looks.   But he makes us try it every. single. day.

I’ve been attending this class regularly for about a year and a half.  That’s a lot of unsuccessful peacock.

The first year or so I mostly just worked on getting my fingers pointing towards my feet with my elbows and forearms touching under my belly, with my legs still on the ground (hard to do with my gimp elbow.)  That took a while.

Once I mastered just getting my hands in that position, next was me putting any weight at all on my hands.  This usually lasted about .0003 seconds before I face planted into the floor.  Over and over.  Until I gave up and just laid there, face down, defeated.

Last week I was doing my usual flopping around, doing my best to look like I was actually trying so the teacher wouldn’t come over and pay attention to me, and suddenly…my legs were off the floor.  Like magic.  Not up high in the air, like the dude up there, but OFF THE FLOOR.  I WAS FLYING.

…and then I promptly did something weird to my shoulder and had to take the week off.

And that, my friends, is my February Fitness success story.

February Fitness…is halfway done

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Wow, I really dropped the ball on this one.  I feel so irresponsible.

Of course, the February Fitness Challenge has rolled around once again.  And as a masters swimming coach, it is my job to remind you that if you haven’t already pulled out your speedo (or, if you aren’t a swimmer, your running shoes, or your climbing gear, or whatever it is you do) and gotten started, it’s never too late!  We still have more than half the month left.

Aside from giving out some awesome 5-6K yard workouts involving some speed sets (many of which I’ve stolen from other sources), yelling “GOOD!” every time I hear someone in the pool say, “I seriously think I’m going to barf”, and using the slow cooker to make some ridiculously amazing carnitas, I haven’t really contributed a whole lot to the cause.

IMG_20130213_081900mmmmm carnitas….

 I tweaked my shoulder last week and have been giving it a rest from swimming since.  Maybe I can negative split this thing and set a back-half record.  We’ll see.

P.S.  An Affenpinscher (what?) named Banana Joe won Best in Show at Westminster this year.  Huge fan.

Winter Woes

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I have spent this past week daydreaming about the day that the outdoor pools open.  I can’t help it.

We actually had some warm weather this week.  70 degrees on Tuesday…70!…which meant a nice after work run with Paul in SHORT SLEEVES…followed by this:

Weather Channel

Of course.  Complete with tornado warnings and severe weather sirens.  Thursday was back in the single digits, and Friday we woke up to a light dusting of snow, and 8 degrees outside with a wind chill at -4.  Hurrah.

Saturday morning we woke up to some pow-pow.  First real snow of the season.  Some were HAAAAPPPYYYYYYYYY.IMG_20130203_210644

Others were not.IMG_20130203_205800Did not want to come out of the coop…and pretty much didn’t all weekend.  (I didn’t know this, but in the winter time a lot of chickens can actually get cabin fever from never wanting to come out of the coop.  They do not like snow.)

I was scheduled to do my long(er) run of the week Saturday morning.  Woke up to way too much snow and ice on the sidewalks.  Which meant this.

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9 miles on the treadmill at the Y.  Baaaaaaaaaaarf.

I usually limit my runs on the treadmill to an hour/7ish miles.  Max.

But with snow predicted all weekend and limited options, I sucked it up and JMFDIGDI.  Broke the run up into:  2 mile warm up, followed by 2 x 3-mile efforts at a faster pace with a half mile jog in between the efforts and again at the end as a sort of warm down.   So much easier to digest mentally.

And 1.5 episodes of Real Housewives of Atlanta later, I was done.

The rest of the weekend was hijacked by Gone Girl, which I started reading on Thursday and just finished this afternoon.  So now I have my life back.

I won’t lie, I’m not too sad to see January gone.  If it hasn’t been obvious, things here have been very slow.  And cold.  I’m ready for sun and gardens and thunderstorms and spring.  One step closer.

Safety Dance

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This is what happens when it’s icy and dark until 8am and the sun doesn’t shine for 3 weeks (literally).  Fuzzy Xmas socks that I normally sleep in, worn to work with my narsty old flats because my feet are too cold without them.  Awful.  On so many levels.

Despite the nastiness outside, I have refused to go back to running on the treadmill.  Partially because every time I run on the treadmill my headphones shock me, so the whole time I am on there I’m in a state of perpetual anxiety.  But mostly because the treadmill is boring.  And inside.

So what does that mean?  It means I’ve been breaking my hard rule and about running alone in the dark.  And I justify it by bringing Spike.

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I’m not sure how I convince myself that he will protect me, or at the very least deter someone from attacking me.  Because a 15 lb mutt in a tiny jacket with a blinking light on his back is probably about as useful as a butter knife.

I do have mace, but I’ve been hesitant to bring it because I would guess, with relative certainty, that given enough time I’ll end up spraying myself or the dog  or some innocent child walking to school in the early morning.  I do, however, always wear my Road ID, so when someone finds my body at the very least they’ll know what allergies I have and who to call.

It’s time for me to re-evaluate my safety system.  And for the days to get a little longer.

I’m ready for summer.

The Lull

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The post-holiday hangover.  Dead Christmas trees littering the sidewalks.  Holiday lights and ornaments still hanging in windows seem like desperate hangers-on.  And on my run Saturday morning (first real run of the new year…whattup!)…

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Snowman carnage.  Misshappen, anorexic-looking snowman families with missing limbs.  Everywhere.

Fortunately, I had my new running shoes to keep things bright (another pair of Mizuno Wave Riders).  6 miles, no music, no podcasts, no buddies, in the cold.  And it was nice.

So, a new year.  New races?

So far this year I am signed up for one race: the NYC Half Marathon.

I signed up to run with a friend, who wanted someone to pace her to break 2 hours.  It was a lottery.  I got in, she didn’t.  I mainly signed up for the trip to NYC, so I’m still going.  We’re still figuring out who will actually use my number.

But in terms of BIG races, nothing on the docket yet.  I was a little burned out after Hawaii, and to be honest don’t really have the $$ to do another race of that magnitude.  But I’m giving myself until March to make a decision about another 70.3.

I would really like to improve my running speed, finally do a real half marathon PR, and maybe sign up for a few fun open water races (that, hopefully, I would actually get to race.)

Other than that, work is busy, just putting my head down and hibernating until spring arrives.

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Hello, 2013.

Holy Smokies

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Welcome to Pigeon Forge.

Yesterday I ran the Smokies Half Marathon.  I signed up for this race for 3 reasons:

  1. It was nearby (3 hours from home)
  2. It was the right time of year (I love fall/winter races)
  3. I once read on article about how beautiful the Smoky Mountains are in an airplane magazine and have wanted to go there ever since

The race webpage described it as a run “in the hills of east Tennessee in mid-December, just north of Great Smoky Mountains National Park.”  I envisioned a small-town run through the misty foothills.  Sounds good to me.

Originally Paul and I were going to head up early and rent a cabin for a nice relaxing weekend, but then work exploded all over my life and we couldn’t leave early enough on Friday, so we just got a room at a local hotel and drove up Saturday.

Someone wanted to come with.

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The morning of the race we woke up to a beautiful sunrise over the mountains.

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The weather was very warm, but nice in the early morning.  The pre-race scene looked something like this:

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Santa hats everywhere!  (Hi Mom!)

Since he forgot to bring his running shoes and couldn’t sign up to run last minute, Paul decided to volunteer.  He donned his volunteer uniform with pride.

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There is one road that runs the 13 or so miles from Sevierville (race start) through Pigeon Forge (where we stayed) all the way down to Gatlinburg.  It is a busy road lined with tourist attractions.  The course was an out-and-back along this road.

The fact that when I was originally looking for rental cabins in the area I had trouble finding one that did NOT have a heart-shaped tub probably should have tipped me off that where we were heading was not what I had envisioned when I signed up.  It didn’t.

At 8am sharp we took off, a sea of Santa hats and beards (I didn’t wear mine, too itchy.) One by one we ticked by the wonders of the Smoky Mountains and Pigeon Forge.

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Not exactly what I had expected.  Will have to make it back to the mountains some other time.

Physically, the run was kind of awful, and for no particular reason.  Despite the fact that we were in the Smokies, the elevation wasn’t bad at all (mostly rolling hills, which is what I’m used to training on).

The first few miles seemed longer than usual, but I was keeping a (mostly) OK pace and figured I could hold on to it/bring it down as I warmed up.  Miles 5-9 I got into a groove and felt good.  Mile 9 the verping started.  Mile 10 started a downhill to flat to the finish line, but the verping got worse and I started to really feel it in my back and legs.  Mile 10.5 I blowed up real good.  …and the rest was ugly.  Tunnel vision, borderline vomiting…it took me a good few minutes after the finish before I could talk.  I just felt awful.

Final time: 1:50:20.  What.  Way too painful for that result.  But sometimes that’s how it goes.

The good news is by the time I finished, Paul had made a new friend and really found his place in the volunteer village.

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Attractions we missed on this trip included: the Dixie Stampede Christmas Show, the Biblical Times Christmas Dinner, Lumberjack Feuds, and any of the many, many indoor water parks lining that strip.  But the (more) good news is…we can always come back!

And yes, that is the Titanic museum from the pictures along the route, shaped like the Titanic colliding with an iceberg.

More detailed race report (about the course, aid stations, parking, etc) to be posted here shortly.

P.S.  I placed 8th in my AG.  That is a personal record for me on any run ever by like an order of magnitude. Maybe I should consider entering more races with less than 800 people.  The sad news is if I were a dude, I would have placed 5th.

In for the Long Run

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Now that I’m actually signed up for a race (that is 4 weeks away…) it’s time to start throwing some longer runs into the weekly routine.

Saturday was a non-running day, aside from a 1.5m jog around downtown Lexington as part of a relay for Big Blue Crossfit, of which my friend Mary is a member (she asked me last second if I could fill an empty leg of the relay, I said sure).

It was a COMPLETELY GORGEOUS day in Lexington, and after a nice bike ride downtown, a yoga class, and the relay, I was ready to go be productive.

But before that, Mary suggested that we stop for a beer at a local pub with the rest of the relay team, where there were a bunch of Irish dudes watching the Ireland-Russia rugby game (Mary’s a big time rugby player/coach.)  And because I have no social life, I said sure why not.

Enter: accidental day drinking.

Before I knew it it was 10pm and I was heading home still wearing my running clothes and not having showered from my 9am hot yoga class or the run…which was probably pretty awesome for everyone else in the bar.

Sunday:  9 mile run on the docket.  Yeah, right.  Most of the day was spent on the couch like this:

Finally, at 4:30, after nap #2, I dragged myself off the couch, pulled my running shoes on, and headed out the door.

The first 3 miles felt absolutely horrific.  My stomach was sloshing, legs were heavy, I was verping every 2 minutes…it was gross.  But I just kept reminding myself it didn’t have to be fast, I just had to finish it.  I turned on a podcast and did the best I could to just zone out.

As the sun dropped the winds picked up and clouds started rolling in, making for some pretty spectacular skies.

Before I knew it I was actually moving along at a solid clip feeling a million times better than I had all day long.  About an hour and 20 minutes later I walked back through the front door feeling like a new person.  The difference in how you feel before and after those runs is really amazing.

Almost always worth getting off the couch.

Big Decisions

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It was a cold but beautiful morning to vote.  Headed to the polls straight from the pool after morning practice.  The last presidential election we were living in San Francisco.  We got up early and walked around the corner in our jammies to vote as soon as the polls opened so we wouldn’t be late for work.  Different crowd, different election, same vibe at the polls.  There is something to be said for being part of the process.

It’s been a long time, but it’s happened again.  After a tenuous year, I have fallen back in love with running.  I don’t know if it’s the colder weather (which, by the way, has gotten much colder…first frost of the year was yesterday), or the fact that I haven’t done anything too long yet, but this weekend I did 5 miles on Saturday afternoon followed by 7 miles on Sunday morning…with no pain.  I am hoping that I’ve finally shaken whatever it was that was plaguing me this whole past year (knock on wood).

While riding that high I compulsively signed up for the Smokies Half Marathon in December…because it’s always easiest to make these commitments when you’re sitting on the couch in your sweats.

The race is in Seiverville, TN, which is right next to Gatlinburg.  I’ve never been to Gatlinburg, but Paul’s has been talking about going since we moved to Kentucky.

I didn’t realize until after I signed up that it is a Santa Hustle.  Pictures of the starting line last year look something like this:

My mother’s personal hell (she has this inexplicable, aggressive aversion to those Santa hats.)  The race packet comes with race uniform: Santa shirt, hat, and beard.

Also, in most pictures, it’s snowing.

I have yet to find anyone to run it with me…invitation is still out there.

Running in the Dark

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Last year the Bourbon Chase pushed me over the edge into the dark abyss that was Blobtoberfest.  This year it did the exact opposite.  After 2 months of feeling off and being lazy, it kicked my butt into gear.  For the past 2 weeks I’ve been running an average of 20-25 miles a week.  Not fast, but more mileage than over the course of the summer.  By quite a bit.

You’ve also probably picked up on the fact that I think fall is the best time of year to run.  It’s just beautiful.  Unfortunately, there is a downside in that it hasn’t been getting light out until about 7:30am (one thing that sucks about being so far west in the eastern time zone).  Also unfortunate is that I don’t generally run alone in the dark, because I am convinced I will eventually get attacked.  And most unfortunate of all is the fact that all of my morning running buddies have either moved away or left me in the dust and are just way too fast for me to run with anymore.

Today I really wanted to get a run in, but have a long drive ahead of me and can’t do it after work.  So, armed with my pepper spray, I recruited another running buddy to come with.

…because he will protect me.

When I was training for serious I hated running with the dog.  Now, I prefer it.  We’ve found our groove and I usually only have to stop once for him to drop a doozer and me to clean it up.  No problem.

On mornings like this, because it’s so dark, I attach our only small LED round light to the back of his harness.  I figured it was either him or me, and since he usually runs next to me or just in front of me he could light the way.  Like Rudolph.

(Someone didn’t want to run this morning and crawled back into bed.)

My view for the entire run was essentially this:

But it worked.  The 6 miles flew by, the dog is (almost) as good as a person companion, and no scraped knees or broken elbows.

Though we both survived and there are very few things better than getting a good long run in first thing in the morning while the rest of the world sleeps, I’m still sticking with my policy on running alone in the dark.  Unsafe.

This afternoon heading up north to Cleveland to visit Lisa in her new home.  Very excited about that.  Very.

happy happy weekend

Bourbon Chase 2012

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Another successful year for team Jim Beam Me Up.  Another unsuccessful year for the Spock ears I always want to put on the vans.

This year we had a runner drop out, but it turned out to be OK because JEN GOT TO RUN WITH US!

She was so excited.

For those of you unfamiliar with the Bourbon Chase, it’s a 12-person, 200-mile running relay along the Bourbon Trail across Kentucky that goes through all of the major distilleries.

Runners are broken up into 2 vans of 6, with each runner running 3 legs over the course of the trail.

The morning started out with a little rain, a 9:30am meeting, followed by a bourbon tasting at Jim Beam.

The only way to start an endurance event.

This year we were in Van 2, so had a few hours to kill before Van 1 finished off the first 6 legs.  So we checked out the distillery…

…then we hit the road, where there was a lot of this.

Lunch options were limited, and we had 2 people in the van with dietary restrictions.  We settled on a Mexican place in Central Kentucky.

I know.  We almost changed our team name to Team Gringo Diarrhea mid-race.

From there is was off to Makers Mark for the first Van 1/Van 2 handoff.

The sun kept fighting to break through the rain, and we checked out the mash.

Ryan was the lucky first runner from our van.  He took off around 5pm.

We ticked off the legs one by one…

…and ran off into the sunset.

Then it got dark.

And during leg #9, the rain came back with a vengeance.

Poor J. The rest of us spent a good 10 minutes in the van debating how important it was that we all be out on the course to cheer her into transition.

Traditional evening wear looked something like this.

coal miner? runner?

Plus a few blinking lights.

We wound our way through the dark Commonwealth.

harrodsburg, kentucky’s oldest town, 4am

Until, after a lot of running and minimal “sleeping” in the van, I ran the final night leg into the sunrise…and the Four Roses distillery which, along with coffee, bagels, and hot chocolate, has the most delicious bourbon of all.

Then, while van #1 ran the next six legs, we crossed some bridges…

…past Wild Turkey and into Versailles for a deeelicious country breakfast.

People also took the rest time to start rolling out our stupidly stiff legs and familiarize themselves with the beauty that is Biofreeze.

After that, it was over to Woodford Reserve for the final exchange from Van #1.

As Ryan made his way up the massive hill that comes out of Woodford, the sun came out.

And it got hot.  But beautiful.

The remaining runs were through horse country.

Jen ran the final leg into Lexington.  The way it works is both vans go to the finish line and the whole team waits for the final runner, then everyone runs across together, cheering, while the announcer announces the team name, and it’s very festive and a very big deal.

Well.  Jen ran so fast that our team wasn’t even at the finish line yet.  Apparently the announcer was like, “TEAM 507!  HERE COMES YOUR RUNNERRRRrrrrr.”  And she ran across the finish line.  Alone.

Fortunately, there was free bourbon to comfort everyone after the team fail.

And all was well.

finish line photo op

Thanks goes out to Jen for making the flight all the way out here, J & Ryan for inviting us on the team, the peeps in Van #2 for only being mildly stinky and making 30+ hours stuck in a van a non-negative experience, and George for organizing another glorious weekend in bourbon country.

More pics here.