Sunday morning musings

Well, the cake is gone. Really, it didn’t stand much of a chance – two cake lovers in the house and all. There’s just something so special about yellow cake with chocolate frosting, decorated in giant heart made up of Peanut M&Ms.

Three days was its lifespan, and actually, if you think about it: 1 cake + 2 cake lovers + 3 days = success! It was not devoured in the first day, nor was it picked at by yours truly. You know what I mean. One or two M&Ms here or there, a paper-thin sliced from one side – and then a paper thin sliced from the other side (it has to look even!), and before you know it, you’ve got one very sad-looking piece of cake.

Happily, Nathaniel and I divvied up his cake into 8 slices and enjoyed each and every one together – another record. Last year at this time, while I was training heavily for my end-of-season races, he had to hide the cake. I couldn’t trust myself to be alone with the thing.

Suffice to say on cake preservation, I’ve come a long way.

In other news, if you’re a coffee drinker who relies on coffee mate to make your coffee taste good, make sure the lid is completely snapped on before you give it a good shake. Trust me on this one. Otherwise you’ll have extra sweet creamer all over the counters and floor. Great for the Mini Monster, but bad in every other sense of the way.

Makes me want to go back to drinking my coffee black (but don’t tell Nathaniel that). Actually, I do enjoy my coffee straight up – usually when its really hot outside or the mornings of a race. But generally – I confess – I drink my coffee with a skirt.

And I’m proud to admit it.

In my training, things are going great. I really feel like my old self. For 21 days I have not missed a workout – a record since my crash. Are they 5 hour bike rides? Nope. 2 hour runs? Absolutely not. But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy them any less.

Recently I’ve found my love for running again. I knew it would return, just when was the key. Running has always been time for myself; I clear my head, think about things, enjoy nature, and sometimes just let my mind wander. For so long I forced myself to run on the treadmill, as it was too bloody hot to run outside in the afternoon.

Once I figured out that I could set an alarm to beat the Florida heat and humidity (within reason), it made all the difference in the world. At first I was slow- painfully slow. Running through the Scenic Hills neighborhood and on the UWF Campus. I hoped that no one recognized me. But gradually, my form improved, my cadence quickened, and yesterday as I was running up a hill, I realized that 1) I was loving my run and 2) I was increasing the pace, without making myself.

I was feeling great!

When I finished the run, I realized how much fun it was turning out to be. Here I was, falling back in love with a sport I had missed for so long. I am so lucky with how my body healed – the slightest complication could have had me paralyzed or worse. And though its taken a lot of time and a lot of growth on my part, I was doing it!

Even though I had finished my run (and tacked on an additional 10 minutes), I felt that I could have gone out for another hour. I was so happy, so excited, nearly bursting at the seams to go again.

Common sense took over, though, and I made myself stretch (tight calves = unpleasant night sleep!) and find a bathroom (the woods!).

As for today – well, workout wise I’ve got the day off. However I DID set the alarm for 6 am, just in case the itch to run took over. It didn’t, and I realize that I am normal. Instead I made coffee, sprayed coffee creamer everywhere, and am enjoying the solitude of a wonderful living room. The Fat Grey Cat is sitting outside on her table, and The Mini Monster is curled up next to me, front legs sticking out at a wonky angle.

Later, Nathaniel and I are going to try our hands at rock climbing. We’ve gone before and had a blast. It’s pretty neat to climb up a giant wall: the sense of accomplishment, of working your hardest towards something is pretty neat. Like sports or triathlon – or even life, I suppose. The hard part? Once you reach the top you’ve gotta let go and “fall” back to the ground. Of course the belayer is ensuring your safety and is gently feeding rope into the thingy (lack of specific term, I’m sorry) – so really you won’t hurt yourself. Or anyone on the ground.

But at that moment of letting go to the wall when you’re 40 feet up, and momentarily suspended in mid-air – that’s tough. But we all do it in one sense or another. Intuitively we’ve got our safety harness and people supporting us from below – but we need to take a leap and let go. Weather it’s in a race, with a personal struggle, or any other facet of life, sometimes we need to just let go and not follow our instinct.

You never the good that might happen when you do.

Post Party- good and bad!

Well, it was a great party – wish you could have been there! Nathaniel came home from his flight and planning of tomorrow’s flight (good boy!), and we enjoyed a marvelous dinner of pad thai with chicken and lots of veggies. The presents were stacked beautifully, the cake was flawless, and the kitties were on their best behavior.

(Slight snigger).

Which of these doesn’t belong?

In all reality, after running around all day picking out gifts (last minute shopper + world’s hardest man to shop for = disaster), driving between Pensacola and Milton (a good 45 minutes) and back, my two workouts, and making my massage (though I may not be training as intensely as I once was, I am still training. And my lateral quads are a constant reminder of that fact), and getting everything ready for The Birthday Boy, I was pooped.

But in the process of making said birthday cake, I discovered the best foolproof solution to avoiding the chocolate frosting and large bag of peanut M&Ms (they were for decorative purposes, I swear!).

Take one or two (or three) large samples of the cake batter. After that, your stomach won’t want to ingest anything else (as the cake batter, er, expands…). What can I say? I’m a sucker for cake batter, cookie dough, even bread dough. A habit that was developed as a young whippersnapper “helping” my Mom bake.

By the way, should you ever feel the inclination, the worst dough to sample (but best tasting!) in abundance is Vanocka (Czech Christmas Bread). There was one particularly grueling afternoon spent in agony on the couch as all the little balls of dough I “sampled” expanded in my stomach. Without getting punched down.

Nice, I know.

Recovery from my yellow cake batter feeding frenzy was spent wrapping Nathaniel’s presents. Yes, I did find a few things. Boxer shorts, of course. I’m a stickler for clean underwear. So out with the old, in with the new. And then there were two pairs of regular shorts (the boy only had one… and we live in Florida!), and two polo shirts.

Before you scratch your head in wonder, remember that he’s ridiculously hard to shop for. He’s particular about his books, his hobby is flying, and he’s not materialistic. At least with me – give me something fitness or triathlon related, and I’m a happy camper. Everyone knows that.

And then came cake decorating time. Sure, there were a few samples of the milk chocolate frosting, but most of it went on the cake. Scouts honor. Leftovers went down the drain – I didn’t want a potential midnight foray into the fridge to end with an empty, scraped clean container of frosting. Not that that's happened before....er, well, there was that one time...

So I can't be trusted with chocolate frosting.

Just because I’m a few pounds over my normal body weight doesn’t mean I’m letting myself go. So the frosting was out.

And then, the real test: The Peanut M&Ms. Remember: I will race for Peanut M&Ms. But as I’m not racing this year, well…. Let’s not go there.

I dumped out the entire LARGE bag onto a plate, and sorted the differed colored Little Delights. Greens in one pile, blues in another. Yellow, red, orange and brown in the third. And very carefully, I traced a heart-shape in the frosting, and proceeded to decorate a giant M&M heart in the cake. Blue for the outer layer, green for the next, then yellow and red to finish. It looked great.

But I still had 2/3 of a bag of Peanut M&Ms leftover. And my yellow-cake batter tummy ache was wearing off. Disaster was imminent.

So taking a page out of Jen Harrison’s book, I dumped the remainder of the bag down the garbage disposal and er, disposed of the M&Ms. It was so sad. But I didn’t want to pull a George Costanza (Seinfeld) and eat out of the garbage. Cake dough? Yes. Disposed of M&M’s – well, if they’re in the bag…and near the top….

Although I did save 3 or 4 – just to “sample” and make sure they would be okay for the cake.

Yep, garbage disposal was a better idea.

I cannot be trusted with an open bag of Peanut M&Ms.

Later, Nathaniel came home, we had a great time and the rest was history.

And now, The Morning After: we’ve still got ¾ of a cake left! Very impressed with that fact, as the two of us absolutely love yellow cake with chocolate frosting. And the M&M decorations are still all in place.

In other news, wow – I am really sore! Holy Cow – I had forgotten what functional strength could do. My quads are sorer (believe it or not), my shoulders feel tired, and every time I squat down to get something, I’m not sure if I’ll be returning upright.

I was supposed to run this morning, and got up accordingly (right around 6). But something in my body suggests that I flip workouts around – trade my swim tomorrow for today’s run. I like this idea – and so do my quads.

The good? Great party, The Birthday Boy loved the presents and cake, and we had a great time together.

The bad? I am S-O-R-E. This starting over from “scratch” is harder than I thought. Sheesh! Who could have known that a little, unassuming functional strength routine could cause so much pain.

Just don't ask me to bend over to get anything off the floor - I won't be getting back up.

Oh well – better in my legs than in my stomach. No more yellow cake batter for me, I can safely say! Now the cake....

Happy Birthday Nathaniel!

Dear Nathaniel,

Happy Birthday Sweetheart! I know, I know - I'm a day early. But as you well know, I like to "burn the midnight oil" (as my Dad says) and write late into the night. So - had I done my blog on your actual birthday, you wouldn't have seen it until the 12th.

So although the date is Sept 10, don't worry - I really know that your birthday is the 11th. Ahem. I promise.

And yes, I realize that there's some do-hickey on blogger that I can program the publication time for your birthday blog, but by the time I figure it out (me + computers = bad combination), it'll already be the 11th.

So this is the easiest way...

The Kitties want to wish you a happy birthday. They DO love you - even though the House Monster attacks and the Mini Monster is afraid of you. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: Tabbitha will eventually grow out of her "attacking" phase, and Anabelle will not run away when you call her.

At least I think.

So here's a birthday wish from the House Monster. Docile, Sweet, and Large - as usual. Not a bit of sarcasm there, right? :)


And another from the Mini Monster. Taking up her new post under The Ugly Green Recliner. It seems this chair will never go.



And finally - I love you! Let's raise a (BIG) toast and celebrate! Salute! Happy Birthday Sweetheart!

Swim addiction

Well, this getting back “in-shape” thing has been interesting, to say the least. No, I don’t run as fast, bike as far, or pull as strong as I used to. But gosh-darn-it, recently I’ve been getting a kick out of doing my workouts.

Are they as intense, as serious, as “hard-core” as they used to be?

Absolutely not.

And right now, that’s totally fine with me.

Because I’m having an absolute blast.

And its not that I wasn’t having fun before I crashed, before I was plagued with depression. Trust me, I was. But I don’t think my motivation was the same then as it is now. It’ll take some time for even me to figure out that statement. But now I’m training, I’m working out because I want to – because it brings me joy and satisfaction. Not because I feel the need to race asap (again - amazing how much pressure we put ourselves under, isn't it? eeks!)

Case in point: yesterday’s swim.

But let me back up to last Friday’s swim first. Sorry – bare with me (Is it bear or bare? Not bare as in show the “bare” bottom side of stuff. Nope. But not “bear” as in ROAR. Hhhmmmm? Any takers?).

Just as I was finishing my warm-up (Friday), my uber-awesome training partner and friend Ludi showed up sporting her own custom HTFU Splish suit (even has a nifty shark on the front), and hopped in my lane. As she’s training for IM Florida and I’m, well, just training, you can imagine that our workouts were quite different.

Ah yes, the Ironman Swim workouts. Those were the days. Long sets of just swimming long. V-e-r-y l-o-n-g.

After 45 minutes, I was done, but Ludi was just beginning her third of a 5 X 500 mainset swim. Poor thing – I watched her fly, back, breast, and freestyle her way up and down the lane during her preset. Back and forth, forth and back – barely pausing on the wall. Only to do it all over again. It made my 200s and (ahem) 150s seem contrite.

But I was there, so that’s what counted.

After I finished my workout, I asked if I could join her for a set. Apparently she thought I meant the entire workout. Ha! I had only meant one teeny-weeny 500. But the grin and excitement on her face shone through, and I flashed back to all the times she biked for hours on end with me, encouraging me and helping me in my own training. It seemed so awful to desert her as she was slugging through her own swim set.

An overly perky lane partner done in 45 minutes while you still have another 2000 yards to swim is just wrong.

So we swam the remaining 3 X 500 together (and then cooled down). It was great!

During the second set, I realized how much fun I was having. Here I was – feeling great about a workout, doing really well for just getting in-shape, and actually volunteering to do more. It made me – happy.

I swear that I floated out of the pool.

All right – back to yesterday’s swim.

Apparently UWF poured something into the pool water or something. Because I couldn’t wait to get back into the water. Can I say addict? I was ready – swimsuit, towel, workout-in-hand and all – by 10 am for the 11 am pool opening.

Can we say slightly excited?

Yes, I think it’s safe to say that we can.

But that was the great thing. I can’t remember being that excited to go to the pool or to let alone do a workout.

Right when I was entering the post-crash physical recovery stage, I was driven by the urge to return to top form as soon as possible. And it was all my own doing, my own drive. I was so determined to return to 100% as soon as possible that it took the fun out of the sport. It was no longer about the enjoyment or about the satisfaction, as it was about returning to my old self. Doing as much work as I could to get back "in-shape".

For Pete's sake: I spent more time at the YWCA in St. Paul than I did with my family. Okay, slight exaggeration. But going to the gym for 18 hours in a 6-day timespan is slightly overkill, don't you think? It was, after all, May. 7-weeks post crash.

But in the meantime, what had once been such fun, such pleasure, such a joy was becoming something that in spite of my best efforts, I couldn’t succeed at. And the harder I worked, the more I tried, the more miserable I became.

Cue the negative self-talk, and yadda yadda yadda. You know the rest.

I’ve learned (and the learning process is on-going, mind you) that I can’t just go about doing something if I don’t really love it. I can’t force myself to swim-bike-run if I’m physically or mentally not ready.

This journey has been all about finding me. I haven’t always liked the road I’ve been down, and it certainly had a lot more obstacles than even I could have foreseen. But now I’m beginning to understand the purpose of this journey, to rediscover things along the side of the road that – had I been charging forward – I never would have seen.

I can’t remember the last time I was so excited to swim. Gosh, whatever they put in the water, well, it seems to be contagious, and spilling into other facets of my life. Because tomorrow I’m going to the gym to do functional strength and some biking. And I can’t wait.

A New Beginning

Hey there –

Hello!

It’s been a while, eh?

My sincerest apologies for the lack of blogs, updates, writing, notifications, or anything of the sort. Rest assured, things are good. No – life is great!

Where to begin?

Well from the beginning, naturally. So that’s where I’ll start.

This past month – August for those keeping track – was the most challenging mentally than I’ve ever had. Period. Not so fun – trust me. However, through the fog of depression, through the uncertainty and sadness, doubt and disbelief that I faced, I have emerged a changed person. A happy person. At least that’s what it feels like right now.

Throughout this journey of recovery, I noticed an unnerving trend with regards to my mental state: I would have a period of a few good weeks followed by a difficult few days. Gradually as the spring warmed to summer, the good days were on par with the bad ones. I would have one or two great weeks and then flip-flop to one or two really difficult ones.

And it was never entirely clear (at the time) what was setting me off.

Eventually the good weeks dwindled to mere days, and by mid-August I felt lost. Like my old, pre-crash self was a mere shadow of existence. That the new me, the one who couldn’t see colors due to being trapped in the fog of depression, seemed to take over.

But that’s the thing about life: sometimes you have to hit rock bottom to see the light, to view life in color, to see the world for all her glory.

For a while, I stopped working out out all together. It was only bringing me misery - a constant reminder of what I wasn't, how slow I really was. Training ceased and I wondered what I would do with my life, how I could find my happiness.

But whenever I was asked by friends and family alike “what makes you happy?” I would always return to the same vision: me riding my bike – on a 5 hour ride through the Blackwater Forest, and all the emotions that came with that amazing feat of physical strength.

I knew what made me happy. It was just a matter of getting there, of finding my way.

As you can imagine, taking time off from sport is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it gives you a chance to clear your head, your body gets some well-deserved rest, but the more time I spent away from swim-bike-run, the more I missed it. And my body missed it as well. I felt out of shape. I looked like I was out of shape.

And I wanted to go from point A to point Z without doing the work to get there. Go ahead – you can laugh at any time. How realistic was this? Absolutely not – but it took a few months and mood variations to figure this out.

I just didn’t know how to get started.

Cue the most-amazing Coach in the entire world. For those of you out there who are interested in a coach, trust me when I say Jen Harrison is the best coach that I have ever worked with. And the great thing is that she’s not just a coach. She’s a friend, a mentor, a triathlon-mom (at least that’s what it feels like to me), an elite triathlete, and the biggest cheerleader (aside from my family) that I’ve ever had.

There were times I had absolutely no clue as of what to do, or how to get better. But Jen was always there, giving me great guidance and advice. She was always willing to listen, urging me to workout when I felt like it and give myself a break when I was too hard on myself.

By late August I knew that I needed to change where I was at. I was beginning to come out of my depressive state, taking the first positive baby steps. Not even full steps – just half steps.

Teeny weeny uber-baby steps.

And that’s when I got The Talk from Jen. When I told her what was on my mind and where I wanted to go, I confessed that I was afraid. Afraid of failing, of staring up (yet again) and then not reaching my expectations (which were – now that I look back on them – pretty unreasonable for someone coming off a life-altering injury). I lamented that I wished I could just, “start over.”

“Well – why not?” was her response.

Oh.

Cue my mouth dropping to the floor. Was it really that easy? Could it be that simple?

“I don’t think I want to race this year…” I stammered.

“That’s okay!” she replied. “You don’t have to.”

“I would rather focus on getting in shape, loosing the ten pound I put on and being healthy…” I continued.

“That’s fine. But if you want to do that, here’s what you MUST do this week. We need to get those endorphins going, get you doing things because you LOVE it, not because its on your schedule.” She continued. “I’m not going to write any workouts for you [it was the last week of August], but BY 9:00 AM EVERY MORNING, YOU MUST COMMIT TO YOUR WORKOUT. I WANT YOU TO DECIDE WHAT YOU’RE GOING TO DO, SET THE TIME IN WHICH YOU’RE GOING TO DO IT, AND THEN STICK TO YOUR SCHEDULE. Of course, it’s okay if you’ve already gotten up and done your workout. Then you’ve got the entire day ahead of you.”

She sounded downright strict. But very enthusiastic. A funny combination, if you ask me. But she wasn’t finished.

“I want email updates every other day or so. Or update training peaks – whatever you feel like. But write down your workouts and let me know how its going. If I haven’t heard from you by Friday [it was Monday] I’m going to call.”

The internal wheels were humming in my brain. Hhhmmmm….. this sounded – dare I say – okay?

“And then on September 1, we’ll start afresh. Just one workout every day – no pressure, but something that will get you in shape and ready for training later on…But I want you to commit. How does this sound?”

By the end of our conversation, I was ready to start cheering myself. It sounded great, it sounded doable. And it was a wonderful feeling knowing that I had such an awesome supporter with Jen.

For such a long time, I’ve gotten in my own way; through unreasonable expectations, unrelenting negative-talk, fear, anxiety, and doubt. Some of what happened I can’t control: its part of my genetic makeup, part of how I’m built, how I’m wired. But other things – the negative self talk and unreasonable expectations, perfectionist tendencies – well, I’m learning how to control that.

And how to deal.

So now, well, I’m happy to say I’m well on my way to getting back in shape. In every sense of the word.

I’ve had two and a half really great weeks, and haven’t missed a workout. Sure, I’m not up to the 5-hour rides or 2 hour runs, but then again, those aren’t my goals. Yet. One day I’ll be ready, but right now I’m just enjoying the sport, excited about my 2600 yard swims, and 48 minute runs. It’s a fresh start, a new beginning.

And the world looks amazing in color.

Thanks Jen.