Again...yes, again.

Well, if there's one thing that's good about the predicted record-setting rainfall here in (traditionally) Sunny San Diego - is that the weather matches my current state-of-health.

The good news: I'm not running and allowing my calf to heal.

The bad news: I'm not running and allowing my calf to heal because I'm acquired another sinus infection. Without a doubt, I am allergic to Ironman. "Ironmanitis"...seriously. That's me.

Last year I developed sinusitis around this time...so I suppose it's par for the course that the same thing happens this year.

Oh well.

The good news, no GREAT news - is that come September and October I won't be burnt out or anything (please please please fingers crossed!!). When I reflect back to the shape I was in last year at this time...and that I felt my strongest right around late June's Ironman Coeur d'Alene, well, that makes me (somewhat) happy for my intended late-season schedule.

Getting sick is just a part of life. Could I have done thing differently last week? Absolutely. But dwelling on the past now, is futile. Sure, I'm upset - and I keep going back and forth between resolved to accept my being sick to ANGRY that this is happening, again.

But at the end of the day, it is what it is, and all I can do is focus on the positive and getting better as soon as possible. And it could be worse - much worse. At the end of the day, I'm (mostly) healthy, happy, am surrounded by love and support, and grateful for the many wonderful people and things in my life.

(Excuse me while I blow my nose).

Sill...humbug.

So - no swimming for the next week, while I allow my sinus passages to clear out. I've been granted permission to spin easy on the trainer (because facing the rainy and windy onslaught outside does NOT sound fun)...as long as 1) I'm not feverish 2) my sinuses aren't throbbing and 3) I'm not blowing out the traditional, well...crap from my nose. (sorry for the graphic details).

So, that's about it. For real.

I'm just hanging in there, thinking healthy/healing vibes and trying to not panic. And for everyone "out there" going through their own bouts of cold/flu/sinus/yucky-unnamed illness, all I can say is hang in there, be patient, be kind to yourself, and if in doubt...skip the zone 8z workout.

Priorities my friends, priorities.

So with that, I'm off to watch a movie with Nathaniel. He's amicably agreed to watch "Julie and Julia" with me - but don't tell him I said anything. It was, after all, his idea.

Oops... I suppose I was supposed to keep that under wraps as well.

First, though - gotta find the Kleenex. The stuff with lotion...golden.

The Insanity Workout.

*First of all - THANK YOU for all of the kind comments and wonderful support after the DNS 5k. It was greatly appreciated - especially to Julia. Just awesome!*

I was at the gym the other day.

(Yes, its okay to laugh).

No really, I was at the gym the other day. And today - just in case you were curious. But that's beside the point. In an effort to move from Ironman + Endurance + Long + Slower (compared to Short Course Fast) to Short Course Power + Speed + Strength + FAST, Jen has given me a new strength training routine.

I LOVE it!

And yes, I'm sore. Absolutely, my legs, arms, abs, butt and everything in between hurts today. And I'm pretty sure if I coughed, it would get ugly.

But the truth of the matter, is that Jen's workout was GREAT, it kicked my rear, and I'm excited to see my strength and power evolve. Between the plethora of squats, jumps, BOSU ball work, core, and strength machines involved - I put myself wholeheartedly into my training session.

That being said....

If you ever want to feel like a weak, pathetic slug - complete your training next to someone doing a workout called 'Insanity'.

Somewhere in the middle of my BOSU V-sit and Leg lifts, a Marine walked into the aerobics gym (rarely used because it holds medicine balls, Swedish Balls, free weights, mats, chords, and NO machines. It is hardly ever populated with others; which is why I love working in there. Hey - when you're as uncoordinated as I am, balancing precariously on the Swedish Ball with curious onlookers is a recipe for disaster. Trust me; I'm speaking from experience.) I can only assume he was a Marine because 1) I was working out on Camp Pendleton 2) He had extremely short hair 3) His green shirt proclaimed 'Marine!'.

Yes, I can be a Master when it comes to the Powers of Observation.

With a quick glance my way and the briefest of nods, he set his i-phone, towel, water bottle, and plastic bag next to the floor to ceiling mirrors and...put on a...headband?

Pardon?

I felt like saying, "Excuse me...? Do you mind of I interrupt my V-sit to stare? I think what you're wearing went out of fashion sometime in the 1980s. Although it is popular with Aerobics Instructors throughout the world..."

But I was a good girl, and I didn't.

But I still though it odd; this very hard-core and nearly bald (for all practical purposes) Marine - openly wearing a white, fuzzy headband.

I shook my head and went back to my V-sit.

And that's when it happened.

He pressed a button on his i-phone, and started moving very quickly. Not 'human' fast - but think 'Superman' fast. His cadence must have been in excess of 150 steps per minute, but he was also doing really weird things with his arms.

It was very difficult, actually - to focus on holding my V-Sit while Rambo next to me did his thing.

I peeked in the mirror, careful to not be too obvious, and watched him work. Before too long he was gasping for air, lifting his knees higher and higher while his arms moved first in circles, then from side to side. I tried to get an idea of how long he would spend doing one type of exercise, but he was moving so quickly from one to another - I soon lost count.

His arms became a blur, while his feet seemed to dance to a mad pattern that held no rhyme or reason. The panting grew to an alarming pitch, and I felt the need to look away. It was embarrassing, actually. He could have provided the sound effects for a sleazy porn flick - not that I know anything about that. I'm just assuming, you see?

Every 10 or 15 seconds he would quickly change to another pattern of exercise and work feverishly away...until the next change.

Up, down, left, right, jumps, skips, back on the ground, high knees, more jumps, higher jumps, groans, funny arm movements... he did it all, and at a superhuman pace!

And with a straight face, to boot. Actually, the guy looked like he was in agony. Sounded like it too.

My V-Sit, which had initially felt so hard core and challenging (hey! I got my legs off the ground and I'm supporting my own weight! Yea! AND I didn't roll over or laugh - we have a winner here!), suddenly felt like small potatoes compared to my energized neighbor.

I swear, the guy was wearing a battery pack; there's no other explanation.

After 15 or 20 minutes he stopped.

I was actually alarmed - morbidly curious about his heart rate. I didn't think it would be possible to sustain life much longer with that type of energy.

Sweat had pooled on the ground below him, and the mirror near his station was covered in droplets of the stuff. His white headband now had a saturated glow, and his rasping, ragged breath didn't decrease with the halt in performance. I was just about to comment when I noticed him taking his pulse and staring pointedly at the clock.

It was crazy...absolutely nuts. Certifiable, in fact. Which is why the name of the workout - which I learned to my great amusement later - fit perfectly.

I let him do is thing -

Until I could take it no longer. I had to open my big fat mouth.

"What WAS that? Are you okay? Really - that doesn't seem normal!" I blurted out just as he caught me starting.

"The workout is called 'Insanity'. I'm about 1/3 done, but I don't know if I can do any more," he admitted.

I just stared.

Insanity?

Wasn't that, like, Susan Powers back in the '80s? I KNEW that headband was there for a reason...

But no matter. I went on to complete my strength workout while he continued on his road to Insanity...

When I left the aerobics room a few minutes later, he was at it again - frenzied breathing and high tempo-steps and all.

But in the end, I had to hand it to him. There he was - doing HIS workout, pushing himself to new limits. He was active, he was in shape, and though his breathing resembled something out of an x-rated movie, he was putting himself out there and staying fit and healthy.

Isn't that what we all do? Yes, my breathing is ragged at times, and yes - some people think that what I do (with Ironman or even running in sub zero temperatures) is nuts. But it keeps me happy, healthy, and at the end of the day - it keeps me, me.

So I'll stick with the swim-bike-run, while this guy goes Insane. As long as we can meet in the middle and respect each others workouts, then the fitness world will be a better place. Because at least we're out there, pursuing our dreams and enriching our lives.

However insane the task may be.

The DNS 5k Experience

(Did Not Start, in case you were wondering).

Sometimes it’s the tough choices that are the most difficult to make. Fear, worry and even uncertainty will linger in our minds, long after the decision has been finalized. In the end though, we choose our own course of action, and must ultimately live with the consequences.

Okay, so I’ll admit: that’s a little deep, even for me.

But today I did something completely new and very unexpected: I withdrew from the 5k race less than ten minutes before its start time.

And trust me when I say, that a decision like that is not made lightly – especially after the early wake up, the drinking of Ensure (yuck!), 30-minute drive to the race site (with Nathaniel and my Dad – two great sports and supporters throughout the process), registration and then the disastrous warm up. Yes, there were a few tears…but they flowed freely out of frustration at my predicament.

My lower right leg doesn’t feel quite right.

It’s my own damn fault; immediately after Kona, I should have gotten a massage and worked out the post-Ironman kinks. But I didn’t…I was cheap and I got sick. I figured the time off would solve all ailments and though my legs were tight when I initially started training in December, it wasn’t anything that had me particularly worried.

The bike test kicked my ass, though.

I suppose that every little micro-muscular tear, every single bit of scar tissue, everything that had been painful post-Kona and ignored came screaming agonizingly to the surface during my 30-minute LT Bike Test. Muscles, tendons, and ligaments that haven’t been worked in a while were suddenly willed to perform at their max effort. While I powered through the test, painfully aware of my throbbing lower extremity, I was forced to come to a grinding halt during my attempted 30-minute transition run.

My leg looked swollen – a reverse cankle, if you may. I was oddly fascinated and disgusted at the same time.

Luckily my ART Therapist managed to see me both Wednesday and Friday (ouch ouch ouch), but even he noticed the swelling and was careful to manipulate around my outer calf muscles and tendons.

Which brings me to today.

I’ve never gone to a race, signed up, and THEN pulled out 10 minutes before the gun goes off. I just don’t do that. When I decide to do something, I do it. Period.

But…I’ve also done a lot of stupid things in my life (I’ll freely admit that). Belly button piercing at 17, biking without a helmet, and once setting fire to my down comforter while trying to put the moves on my future husband (candles should be outlawed if you are less than 21 and slightly inebriated).

However, while running my race warm-up I noticed the same burning and throbbing sensation in my leg that I felt during my previous few runs, I knew that running a max-effort 5k race would be the stupidest of them all. My pace felt great; but my leg just wasn’t right. And though it was a very bitter and tough pill for me to swallow – I knew that pulling out of the race was the RIGHT choice to make.

Because at the end of the day, I know myself and I know the kind of athlete I am: I KNOW there will be pain and discomfort during a race, but I always push it aside. Its one thing to arrive at a start line, fired up and READY to go. It’s completely different when you add those emotions to a body part that’s not working the way it should (or that you expect it to).

As disappointed as I was, I knew it was the right thing to do.

I ran for exactly 6:38 – until I could no longer stand the tightness – stretched for a few minutes, and then ran back to Nathaniel and Dad. I was gone for a whopping 14 minutes and five seconds. But my decision had already been made, in spite of the tears and indescribable pull towards racing regardless of my discomfort.

Oh well.

I would rather be smart and NOT race now, than damage myself further. And, after the fact, there is no doubt in my mind that running a max 5k for 20 or so minutes, would put me out of commission longer than I care to admit.

Humbug.

Even though it’s not the same – I totally respect any Mountaineer who can be within a matter of minutes from the Summit and turn around (for whatever reason…weather, mountain conditions, number of daylight hours left), thus forfeiting his or her chance of standing at the top. People loose lives climbing Everest, because they are SO fixated on reaching the summit… they forget that they have to come down as well.

In my 28 (almost 29!!) years of existence, I’m really proud of the choice I made today. It wasn’t easy, it certainly wasn’t fun…but it was the right thing to do. And I’m sure that – come late summer when I’m up to my ears in racing (knock on wood – YEA) – this will be a blip on the radar. A good experience for me to recall: where in spite of what I REALLY wanted to do, I listened to my body and, in the end, was better for having done it.

Yep, the right choices are sometimes the hardest to make. And though I feel a bit serious about the matter at hand, I’m really okay about the decision I made. Absolutely no regrets – none for today. I DO wish that I had gotten a massage post-Kona immediately after the race, and not waited for something to feel “off”. So I have only myself to blame.

In the mean time, me and my aggravated calf (along with the help of our good friend Motrin) will go back to the drawing board, sport the Compression Socks, and keep ourselves elevated and rested. Throw in a Mini or House Monster or two, and two doting guys (Nathaniel and Dad), and maybe demand fruity adult drinks be brought our way…today is looking all right…

Regardless, it will work out in the end. Of that I am sure.

Sights and Sounds...

Currently, there is a plumber in my house, working feverishly to unclog the kitchen sink. Sure, the condo design flaw may have contributed to the drain’s demise – along with my propensity to throw too-many-vegetable-and-fruit-peelings into the garbage disposal (oh, sure, blame me for cooking healthy. I'd rather the carrot clog my kitchen sink than the Big Mac go after my heart)- but the events leading up to this exact moment are worth a thousand words. Hopefully it won’t take me that long to explain.

SIGHTS AND SOUNDS I’ve encountered this past week….

SOUND: Mechanical snake whirring through my kitchen drains.
SIGHT: Plumber under the sink feeding said mechanical snake into the drains.

SOUND: Swearing.
SIGHT: Plumber’s white shirt no longer white.

SOUND: Mechanical snake coming to a grinding halt.
SIGHT: You don’t want to know.

Enough of that…

Other things I’ve encountered-

SOUND: Amtrak and Coaster Train horns blowing
SIGHT: My Dad jumping up and down to see said trains approach the station.

SOUND: Tabbitha’s snarl at Anabelle.
SIGHT: The Mini Monster chasing The House Monster out of the litter box, in (what I can only assume was) an attempt to watch the world’s largest kitty bm.

SOUND: The thud of the world’s largest kitty turd.
SIGHT: You don’t want to know.

SOUND: Jaws dropping in surprise.
SIGHT: My fellow Master’s swimmers gaping at the 10 X 200 mainset on x:xx interval the other day.

SOUND: The cracking of my ankle – the loudest one yet.
SIGHT: Me on my ART’s massage table, relieved because my ankle “cracked” for the first time since Kona. Seriously.

SOUND: Max Heart Rate – thud thud thud thud –
SIGHT: Me taking my 30 minute LT Bike test. My coach is evil and I gave her the mental middle finger at the end of my test.

SOUND: Me…gasping for air.
SIGHT: My reaction to discovering my max heart rate and average heart rate were separated by three beats on my test. Ouch. Double Ouch. Triple Ouch. You get the idea.

SOUND: Plumber sighing in exasperation at the contents of my drain pipes.
SIGHT: Plumber lecturing me about responsible garbage disposal usage.

SOUND: Screams of terror eminating from my person.
SIGHT: Me running away from (what seemed to be) a rabid gopher.

SOUND: Laughter of bystanders.
SIGHT: A befuddled me looking towards an overly large and extremely territorial squirrel.

SOUND: Comfortable shoes shuffling across marble floors.
SIGHT: Thousands of similarly-dressed historians at the AHA Conference in San Diego.

SOUND: Grinding halt of machinery. Exasperated sighs of the plumber. Something squishy sounding hitting the floor.
SIGHT: I’m too afraid to look.

SOUND: Many sighs, some gasps, and the sound of the mechanical snake being retracted.
SIGHT: (in the plumber’s words). Black gooey gunk, with a very lovely odor to it. For the record, I’m safely hidden from sight in the living room.

SOUND: the tinkling of Christmas Tree Ornaments.
SIGHT: Anabelle in the tree. Again. What else is new? I swear, that cat is a fake Christmas Tree Killer.

SOUND: More groans from the kitchen.
*Okay, now I feel downright sorry for the guy. If I had more of a heart, I would offer to help. But my stomach is the weak one of the pair…and I know that the overpriced sushi I ate for lunch will make a reappearance if I go anywhere NEAR the kitchen. But he’s really moaning and groaning… I hope he doesn’t pass out. Then that would be a REAL mess. At least its not crap, right..? (involuntary shudder).

SOUND: The Carlsbad Pool lifeguard asking if I was okay.
SIGHT: Me – gasping for air at the end of my swim test. For the record, I was okay. Just bareley.

SOUND: Tofu, sautéing in olive oil with a little bit of garlic.
SIGHT: Tofu Stir Fry…our household staple has returned.

SOUND: Gentlemen Jack (Whiskey) being poured into two Chrystal tumblers.
SIGHT: Dad and Nathaniel, enjoying a post-convention and post-work drink.

SOUND: The vacuum being used under the sink. Again.
SIGHT: The plumber trying to clean up the remnants….

Oy vay… this could be a long process. I can safely say – dear friends – that I’m happy you are NOT here to share my adventures. One annoyed plumber is enough for me, thank-you-very-much.

Tomorrow I’ve got a local 5k race to jump start my run “speed”. I laugh at that, mostly because Ironman killed any speed that I had, and I’ve done absolutely NO speedwork since, um…hhhmmmmm? Before Kona…? But no matter – I’m looking forward the race, and the opportunity to be FINISHED racing in less than 20 or 30 minutes. And it’s been a very long time since I could safely say that.

I think now I’ll go back to my plumber. He seems to be wrapping things up – at least I can hear pipes being screwed back into place, and the vacuum seems to have finally stopped. I’ll do my best to keep a straight face, but as I have a problem with laugher, I can make no guarantees. The other alternative is losing my lunch. And as I’m racing tomorrow morning, well – I would take laughter over the other any time. Regardless, it will be interesting…

Welcome to 2010!

If I never eat another Christmas Cookie, well, that’s okay.

However, I doubt that I’ll never swim another 200, let alone a Master’s swim workout comprised of 10 X 200. That would just be too much.

It WOULD just so happen (on my first day back at Masters Swimming since Ironman Hawaii back in October), that I would end up with a main set that would make even my former I’m-training-for-Ironman-and-therefore-just-bring-it-on fitness level pause for thought.

Repeats of 100s I can handle. They are hard, but they’re over relatively quickly. And anything above 300, I have the luxury of switching into my “cruise” mode: just hold tempo and swim like the fish you’re trying to emulate.

But 200s… Those are just, plain…awful.

I think I’m forgetting something, though. Oh yes…

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Hello 2010! Greetings Friends! I hope the New Year (new decade – oh wow!) has greeted you well and with much happiness. And warmth! Can’t forget about that one…especially for all you snowy-cold-weather-type-people trapped in the doldrums of winter.

Blech.

Can I just say that I DON’T KNOW HOW YOU DO IT! (Statement, not a questions).

Seriously.

My last day in Minnesota, the temperature never went above Zero Degrees Fahrenheit. Zero degrees! And while running (outside) the previous day, it was One Degree. And no, that single degree didn’t even warrant an “s”. How depressing.

I tell you, after flying back to San Diego 59 degrees never felt so good.

But enough about that.

Did I mention Happy New Year?

2010 is looking to be an exciting one, with many adventures, good times, and changes-for-the-better on the horizon. I’m excited about racing, absolutely stoked that I’m not racing Ironman, and will do my best to keep things fun and in perspective. (Ahem. I can neither confirm nor deny if that was a New Year’s Resolution).

Today also marked my return to training in earnest – and by that I mean 1) following Jen’s schedule to the ‘T’ (even if it involves cruel and unusual forms of punishment dubbed “Triathlon Testing”) 2) updating my Training Peaks account (so Coach Jen can follow along while I rant and rave about the ghastliness of testing. Four-letter words are included at no extra charge) and 3) returning to “Normal (aka “Healthy”) Eating”.

Like I said before, I think I’ve developed an aversion to Christmas Cookies. And I know that its bad bad bad when Nathaniel complains that his thighs feel fat.

Knock me over with a feather: My husband just uttered four words that I NEVER thought I would hear. “My thighs feel fat.”

Welcome to my World.

But looking back, I have no regrets and wouldn’t change a thing. Time with my family over the holiday season was the best yet, and I’m grateful for the memories and moments. In the past, I’ve been intent on completing Every. Single. Workout. On. My. Schedule. (Even if it meant hopping on the trainer for a 3-hour ride at 4 am before Church and then running long in the afternoon. Yuck).

Instead this year, it was very laid back – I ran almost every day, let myself eat and drink whatever I wanted, and didn’t sweat the small stuff.

Wow.

Woa.

If it takes me nearly burning out from two Ironmans in one year to come to that conclusion, then sign me up again.

Just kidding.

Seriously.

No Ironman for 2010. Or 2011. After that…we’ll see. (But not likely).

But in all reality, I’m happy to be training again in earnest – even if it means suffering through a separate swim, bike, run assessment, and really looking forward to the 2010 season. I’m sure the decibel level in our condo will be on par to an airliner as I curse the end of my 30 minute bike test. But that’s tomorrow…. As for 2010 - It should be a good one, filled with short(er) races and good times. Who is excited?

Me, me, pick me!

Let's all come along!

Happy New Year to ALL!