And I didn't even get a T-Shirt! (Humbug!)

You would think, for the amount of excruciating pain that I've been in all day, that I would have done something really extraordinary yesterday. No, not simply a silly treadmill run. No, something really deserving of a free shirt (okay okay, I know - we pay entry fees to get into events). Like a race... A triathlon, a bike, a run, a swim, even an adventure race (I have always wanted to do one of those, but I have a tendency to get lost. I ended up in Alabama by accident during one long bike ride. Oops.)

There have been times in the past where I've felt almost as sore. But not quite. Then again - those memorable, painful times were all in the past - so my memory of how awful I truly felt may be a bit dodgy. Or at least the pain I'm experiencing now is so great that I have nothing in recent memory to compare it to.

And just think - how awful it would have been had I NOT taken the ice bath...

Don't even want to go there!

I woke up this morning to my alarm beeping merrily away. I moved my leg and arm in effort to turn the flippin' thing off.

Big mistake.

My leg felt like it had a 10 pound weight attached at the ankle, and even my torso felt stiff as I turned to reach for my bedside table. Nathaniel - wonder of wonders - was already awake, going over TH-57 Emergency Procedures for a disabled tail rotor (that puts things into perspective... when you help your husband memorize what to do in case his helicopter starts going down. I love Nathaniel so much, and this part of his job truly terrifies me. But I know he's doing what he loves, and by helping him go over his flash cards, I'm helping to make him a better prepared pilot. Even though it sucks because I tend to have a vivid imagination. Hey - at least it took my mind off my legs for a while...). Like I was saying, he was awake and studying - so when I stumbled out of the bedroom at 6:03 am, he gave me a cheerful, "good morning sunshine!"

I don't think I even responded.

In a Frankenstein-like manner, I jarringly walked/shuffled/dragged myself to the other bathroom and switched on the light.

Big mistake.

I stared at my reflection. The crazy-haired, bleary-eyed girl stared back at me.

And then, I made my first really big mistake (aside from reaching for the alarm).

I attempted to sit on the toilet.

Even BIGGER mistake.

My legs felt as though they were being stabbed with little knives, and it was all I could do from crashing onto the toilet. I did, however, land with a resounding "thud!"

But hey, at least I was awake.

"I think something is seriously wrong with my legs," I told Nathaniel, panic creeping into my voice, as I re-shuffled towards the living room.

Sitting in his green recliner, he just gave me a look, sort-of smirked and said, "that's okay. Just think how you'd be feeling without the ice or ibuprofen."

Humph! The External Motivator wasn't being so, er, motivating.

I couldn't even think of a response. So instead, I stumbled back to bed, convinced that by getting a few more minutes of sleep, things might just be better when I awoke.

(What kind of fantasy land was I living in???)

Actually, sleep is something that I'm pretty weird about. I can function on very little (5 or 6 hours, even 4 at times) for a few days. But then I'll catch up with 9, 10, or 11 - all in a row. The even more difficult part - is that I'm a light sleeper, will sometimes have a hard time falling asleep, and usually wake up a few times in the middle of the night. I'm not a big fan of sleep aids - as addiction runs in my family. Plus, I don't like the groggy-feeling-all-day-long (if I can help it). The previous few night's, I had only gotten 6, 5, and then 5.5 hours of sleep.

I know it's not healthy - but I've always been like this. I stay up late reading and writing, and then set the alarm. Sometimes I can sleep in, or if I'm really tired I have the flexibility of adjusting my schedule (sometimes).

The increase in intensity and volume has affected me, though - because once I hit the bed, I fall asleep pretty fast. (I just feel so much more effective at night...in terms of getting "creative" stuff done - always have..."burning the midnight oil!" as my Dad would say...).

Then again, the minute I start worrying about weather or not I can fall asleep, I never am ABLE to fall asleep.

It's a vicious cycle, I tell you! (Now I know what my Dad was talking about all those years ago. We, unfortunately, have the same sleep patterns. 8 uninterrupted hours of sleep sounds almost too good to be true!)

But I stumbled back to bed.

Next thing I knew, Nathaniel was shaking me awake, exclaiming, "Wake up sleepyhead! It's a little after 9, and I thought you should get up."

Somewhere, deep within the covers and under numerous pillows, I think I groaned.

"There's coffee..." he promised.

What? Did someone say coffee?

I was up, at 'em, and ready to go.

My mind may have been able, but the body was weak. My legs still felt awful, and I wondered how the heck I was going to get through my workouts, let alone my day.

And then I started thinking about those other "painful" incidents that I've had. There are a handful, but I've pretty much picked out my top 5. I'm sure many of you can relate - even my Mom... Who made the rather unfortunate error of doing lunges for an hour in a grueling aerobics class, after never having done lunges in the past. Ever. (She called me, wondering how she should stop her pain. I told her ICE! And then asked her, "why in the world would you do lunges for an hour?" Her response: "because everyone else was. And it was my class!")

Like mother, like daughter!

Here they are, in no particular order:

-My first Half Ironman, California 70.3, 2006. I couldn't walk for days, let alone hobble to the bathroom, or squat down on the toilet in order to pee. It was painful. I actually took a shower to avoid sitting on the toilet (again, so I could pee). I learned a tough lesson though: My racing flats weren't intended for the 1/2 marathon distance. I will never make that mistake again.

-My first 1/2 Marathon. Cherry Point, MCAS (sorry - Marine Corps Air Station), April 2004. The look I gave Nathaniel after I crossed the finish line says it all.


-My first time lifting heavy weights in the off season. Let's see YOU try walking "normally" after doing 4 X 10 of a heavy, leg-intensive day. Didn't get a tee-shirt, but that's to be expected: there was no running, biking, swimming, triathlon-ing involved. Strength is a different beast all unto itself. (Case in point: have you ever watched "World's Strongest Man Competition"? I wouldn't trade sports with those guys for the world!) Coincidentaly, this workout involved lunges. I made the somewhat catastrophic mistake of holding 20 pounds. In each hand, as I happily lunged forward. It may have been the only time I felt "cool" at the gym. But I didn't walk for days afterwards. (Mom: I understand what you went through. Believe me. Not a time goes by when I've got "lunges" on my workout schedule that I don't think back to that fateful day.)

-During my first triathlon, ever. I got off my bike - having never done a bike-run workout before - and tripped over a curb. And I wasn't even going up - I was trying to step down. The 4 mile run that I did took over 45 minutes. So long, that I had to pee on myself, as I had over-hydrated so much before the race. It was gross, I was embarrassed, and I was S-L-O-W. And sore. But, at least I got a tee-shirt. And I got hooked on a great sport.

-After yesterday's 4 X 20 min zone 4-5.

You get the drift.

But even though I'm sore, even though I have a hard time walking - after each and every time I've felt this way, I've also had a marvelous sense of accomplishment. I did what most people would consider crazy - and I feel all the better for it. It never ceases to amaze me, that I put myself through this kind of stuff, yet I do so willingly, aware fully of the subsequent consequences.

I might B*tch and moan right now, but I know I'm better for it. I know I'll be better and stronger for it. And I would rather live my life, meeting new challenges head on, facing life to its fullest, than shrinking away in fear.

And what does this all mean?

Well, for starters: T-Shirts are overrated. Yeah, it's neat to get cool schwag, a great t-shirt from a fun race, but what does it really mean? Are you a better athlete for it? Does wearing the "official race shirt" make you all the better? (Finisher Shirts are a different story: I'm sure that I will sleep with my Ironman Finisher - God willing - under my pillow every night for a year after that race). No, absolutely not. It's the person whose wearing the t-shirt that makes all the difference.

And besides, most of the time, they don't even come in my size. So I'll get a Large or XL, and Nathaniel will use it. He's got a whole assortment of Triathlon shirts I never wear. But I still deserve one after yesterday! Not only for the workout, but for the bath that followed. Now, I'd like to see Nathaniel wearing a shirt thay had that on it.

FINISHER! I survived the treadmill, the people at the gym, the weak legs, and the ice bath that followed. :)