Telephone Pole Hill, June

As a study in Southern California seasons and seasonal changes, each month I've been taking pictures of (what I'm calling) Telephone Pole Hill. When we first moved here at the end of 2008, I was amazed at how green everything seemed. Within a few short months - everything green was gone, replaced by dust and brown.

This year, I've decided to see if I can actually keep track of the changes. And yes, I realized that I missed April. But still - we've had a great start.

It was Nathaniel, during last weekend's hike who reminded me to take the picture. What a guy.

March 2010
May 2010
June 2010
What you can't see is the June Gloom. It was definitely present during our hike, but only extended a few miles inland. Yes, it's always nice to see the sun.
(Even if you have to work a little extra harder, or walk a little further to experience it's rays).

And finally, proof that we CAN survive activities that involve coordination, balance, and fun in salt water. Yes, we Stand Up Paddled in the Carlsbad Lagoon. However, even though we saw plenty of jumping fish and one very small ray, I was never fearful of (ahem) sharks. Whereas, had I been swimming - well, I just wouldn't have been swimming.

Open water in a protected lake. Yes.

Open water in salt water where there are big things with bigger teeth and you never know what's under you and anything could happen and your imagination is working overtime and it's just not fun because you're fearful that every stroke could be your last? No.

I think that's why I managed to stay upright the entire time. And had a blast in the process. Next time the goal is to bring a water-proof camera because you just never know. But for now, this is the post paddle glow.With Rachel and Jessica, at the Carlsbad Stand Up Paddle Club. And yes, I think I know what my shirt says... I love peace is Chinese or Japanese or Mandarin or something. At least that's what the people up in Minnesota told me. I just liked the heart and fit, and the peace thing - that's nice too.

It should read I love not being eaten by sharks, yeah. Or... I love Stand Up Paddling...even better.

Photographic evidence DOES exist...

...Because there is so much sadness and devastation in the Gulf of Mexico. And because while watching the news, I couldn't help but tear up at the images of destroyed communities, suffering animals...and if that wasn't enough, hearing about service members killed in Afghanistan hits very close to home. I just couldn't watch anymore.

Instead, I tried to 'think happy'. And those who know me, know that I'm a sucker for America's Funniest Home Videos. Nope, I don't have a video to share, however. But. However. There DOES in fact exist photographic evidence of me wearing compression hose while riding my bike.

I made Nathaniel leave the room and barricaded myself in for a few hours while riding the trainer. But before I set off on my very boring - but totally necessary trainer ride - I took a picture of how truly and utterly ridiculous I looked. No - it doesn't change what's happening to the Gulf, and hearing sad news from Afghanistan will always put me on edge. But...sometimes we just need to take a step back and smile.
And YES - I AM WEARING BIKE SHORTS UNDER THE HOSE. Please reassure me that YOU can at least see them. This week, I'm only wearing the knee-high compression hose to help with my veins. But still. Clearly, there was a reason that 1) I rode INSIDE and BY MYSELF and 2) I didn't let Nathaniel see me in person. There are just some things he shouldn't be aware of.

Even Tabbitha was alarmed. But she kept me company for the duration of my ride, so at least that was nice.
And finally, a few pictures from our Saturday afternoon hike. Nathaniel got dressed in full hiking gear - pants included. He wanted to be extra precautions of Rattlesnakes. I laughed and responded that we had NEVER seen a Rattlesnake in the Mike TERF area of Pendleton.

And naturally, no less than five minutes into our hike, we saw a BIG one.Oops. My mistake. Yes, sir, I will gladly take a piece of humble pie.

I suddenly felt very exposed in my shorts.

I didn't take as many pictures as I normally do - Nathaniel set a blistering pace. I think it's the fact that I'm beginning to train and had already swam Masters and water ran that left me chasing his wake. But he definitely set a great precedent charging up a big hill, in full Marine Garb. What a stud.Perhaps like riding a fixed gear up Palomar? (And then back down the thing...?)

As for me - a quick self portrait just after I got Nathaniel charging the hill. I think it's a Marine thing. Or maybe just a Nathaniel thing. Or...maybe because I told him there was a RitterSport with his name on it, that I had snuck into his emergency supply pack and we could take a break at the top of the next hill.I couldn't help but laugh. And you would have too.

(Let's face it, a little chocolate will make ANYONE smile).

So...when life gets you down and blue, be grateful that you're not stuck indoors riding your trainer with 2 PAIRS of compression socks...and a cat that's giving you a look like she feels sorry for you.

At least this one wanted to snuggle.The Mini Monster is most definitely still mini, but NOT a monster here. I don't know how Nathaniel got the camera so fast - but there you have it. (Perhaps another Marine thing? No - I'm pretty sure it's a Nathaniel thing.)

The Power of Positive Thoughts

Entering my fifth (or sixth...? Is fifth-and-a-half a word? If not, it should be) - but I digress. Entering my fifth-and-a-half week of training, things are humming along. So far I'm not fast, I'm not in super duper let's race! shape, and I don't physically resemble the athlete that I was this point last year (final taper leading into Ironman Coeur d'Alene).

However I'm happy and healthy - and that counts extra. So there.

But the fast part, the in-shape part...that will happen, eventually. Especially after workouts like today's morning swim. Let me share...

Right now, my only training intensity comes from swimming. I'm still in base training with regards to biking and running, (re-)building that ever-important aerobic engine (CRITICAL, if you ask me). That being said, I still carry a bit of trepidation, afraid that if I push too hard I might get sick again.

I know - odder things have happened.

But still. When you spend half a year dealing with one illness after another, taking extra precaution is second nature. Suffice to say, I'm being extra careful, and trying to not do anything stupid.

And it's easy - in the middle of a tough set, when my lungs feel like they're about to burst, my shoulders feel like lead, and the feet that I'm trying to stay connected to seem to slip further ahead and I can't keep up - to wonder if I'm feeling bad because I'm coming down with something...because my immunity is weak...or if it's because I'm working my way back into being in shape.

Hhhmmmm......

At the end of the day, I know that the best person to judge this, is ME. But trust me, when I'm this close to falling off the back of our lane train, and sitting out for 50 meters (while the rest of the lane keeps going) is akin to a GIANT piece of sheet cake - it's tough. Because in those moments, that wall looks pretty tempting, and thoughts of "preparing myself for the next set" are tantalizing.

So, all I'm saying - is that I'm flexible. Willing to STOP if something doesn't feel right, but also willing to work my rear-end off when I can.

Enter: The Power of Positive Thoughts.

A few weeks ago - during my first or second swim post pneumonia - Jen's workout instructions included a note to swim 500, alternating 50s with negative thoughts, followed by positive thoughts. And yes, I've done plenty of training (and racing!) using positive thinking to make myself feel better, perform better - and even trick my body into believing that I'm feeling GREAT (final 8 miles of IM CDA - I grinned like a fool trying to make myself believe the power of my positive mental thought was stronger than my failing quads. It worked. And within five steps of finishing, my legs seized up and I couldn't walk).

But I can't remember the last time I deliberately forced myself to think negatively while training. Lord knows, I've spent enough time in therapy retraining myself to think positively, to break down negative thoughts into positive ones. And...yadda yadda yadda.

During the exercise, though - I only lasted for one 50, instead of the five that she had wanted. One was enough to get the point: our negative thoughts have a MOST DEFINITE impact on our actions, performance, and behaviors. It doesn't take a PhD to teach you that. But 50 meters - where I told myself that my swimming sucked, that my strokes were choppy, that I looked like a beached whale flopping in the water - was enough to leave my physically slower in the water, discouraged, and ticked off at Jen.

Lesson learned - thank you coach!

Oh, and sorry for the four-letter-words associated with your name. I could not help myself.

Ever since that workout though, I've made an extra effort to reinforce my training with positive self-talk. Even when running slowly up a hill (I AM RUNNING UP A HILL! I AM DOING GREAT!), even while my heart rate reaches zone 18z biking up a hill (I'M NOT DEAD YET! I AM DOING GREAT!), even when I can barely hang on during a swim set (I AM HANGING ON! I AM DOING GREAT!)- the positive self-talk is great.

Today's swim session was hard. And I knew we were in trouble when at the beginning of the main set, our lane leader strapped on fins, turned to me and remarked, "I'm leaving after the 200..."

Pardon?

So I turned to Kelly just as she turned to me, and I remarked, "I'll lead number 3, if you do number 4." Indeed, the two of us would prevail - through thick and thin, through the inevitable pain that awaited.

The first two sets passed in a blur, and I was only slightly panicked as I set out for set number three. I can't remember the last time I lead any sort of Master's workout, and even though our lane had dwindled from three to two (including yours truly), I was a little nervous that I wouldn't make the send off. Yes - it was close...and definitely uncomfortable...and during the FAST 300, I seriously questioned how the hell I was going to get through the 800 meters of set #4.

But I pushed those thoughts aside, and focused on the things I could control. Myself - right here, right now. Stroke by stroke, turn by turn, we made our way through the set and finished exactly where we were supposed to.

The effort, though, had left me frazzled. Tired, nervous for our final set, and seriously contemplating sitting out a 50 or 100...

...It would be so easy....you're still recovering....you can do it during the second or third 100....just a 50...catch your breath...it will get you ready and you'll be faster for the final 400...it's just a 50....

I didn't know how I would do it.

But...I did.

(Like with anything that seems so far away, so out of reach - if you fixate too much on the end destination - Thanksgiving, for example - those 5.5 months feel like forever. But, if you take it day-by-day, week-by-week and not think too much about turkey, cranberries, stuffing, and pumpkin pie - the day will eventually arrive. And then we celebrate! I think that's the biggest lesson I learned from Ironman - 140.6 miles seems impossible. BUT...step by step, we get to the end.)

*I can only say the extra food thoughts are because I'm training again. Mmmmm....stuffing....mmmmmmmm......

Ignoring the sets that were ahead, my goal became twofold: 1) tackle ONE SET AT A TIME 2) STAY POSITIVE. Even if I finished with only a few seconds of rest on the wall before starting the next set, that would be OK. I was doing it! I could! I was! I am!! I CAN!!!

And yes, the 4 X 100 was painful...and even though I was given the benefit of a draft (and the rest interval was increasing by :05 per 100), I barely made the send off. But...I did make them.

The final 100 before the FAST 400, I told myself that - in spite of feeling tired and coming in just before the send-offs, I was setting myself up GREAT to really rock the 400. And then I shut off my mind and swam my guts out.

It wasn't easy - but the rewarding things in life rarely are. There were times when I wasn't sure if I was even remotely close to Kelly's feet, but with each flip turn I made sure to BLAST off the wall, streamline as long as my lungs could hold, and pull myself forward with powerful stroke after powerful stroke. The first 200 was lonely, and even though I didn't think I was keeping pace - I NEVER GAVE UP. And with about 150 meters left to go, suddenly I noticed the presence of more and more bubbles and I knew that I was doing it, that I was holding on.

I don't remember much about the final 100 - I'm sure that my form resembled that beached whale, and my turns were less streamlined than I would have liked. However, the one thing I remember was thinking, "YOU ARE DOING GREAT YOU ARE DOING IT YOU ARE DOING GREAT!"

The positive thoughts....when everything else was lost, when I was on the verge of peeing myself because the effort was so tough - I turned to positive thinking to get me through. And it did. And there's no doubt in my mind that positive thinking isn't confined solely to the world of triathlon. When we set our minds to it, we can achieve great things - of that, I am sure.

If I can do it - five and a half weeks of training post-pneumonia - so can you. Enjoy the practice, enjoy the feeling, enjoy the success my friends.

Weekend Notes...

I used to have a problem with sleep-eating. Ever happened to you? You wake up with the taste of something-familiar, yet unfamiliar in your mouth, wonder how the heck it got there...only to discover a trail of cheezits and a half-eaten box perched on the kitchen counter.

This may or may not have already happened to me.

Friday morning, I woke up and I could detect the faint aroma of...peanut butter. And...I could have sworn that I dreamed of peanut butter - crunchy, smooth, creamy, peanut buttery, delicious - as well. Good feelings were gone when I saw this next to the sink:
Uh-oh.

I haven't had the heart to check the peanut butter jar. Suffice to say, after my next evening swim - I will eat MORE, to stave off any midnight sleep eating. Thank god we don't have any cheesecake in the house.

It's one thing to eat yummy-tasting things and truly enjoy the experience. But it's something else different when you can't even remember eating said item in the first place.

Speaking of training (and the increased appetite that accompanies such endeavors), I feel like I'm finally progressing from here:

To here:

But I'm not yet here -
(Although with a lot of hard work and effort on my part, I believe I'll eventually make it. Without a doubt - it just takes time...and that - my friends - is okay. It's simply part of the process we all go through)

And as though I didn't have enough fun at the pool with my camera, I saw this posted on the Water Polo Gear Shed - even though those kids are, like, 14 and most of the time their aim (and ability to catch the hurtling ball) is 97.5% accurate, I thought this was pretty neat...
It never hurts to be reminded of these things now and then.

And yes - I live in California...and when you live in California, you see things like this...
Last but not least - I know it's a HUGE race weekend for a lot of folks... GOOD LUCK AND HAVE FUN! For me - with the symphony - we've got a full concert schedule on tap. Yes, my 'picture of the week' (which doesn't always keep a weekly schedule...) has been changed and is the same as the one below...but it bears repeating. Just because.
Thanks to Cat for the photo - it was neat, albeit a little weird - to have someone from the 'sports/triathlon' world listen to the Me from the 'music/symphony' world - but there you go. Stranger things have happened and I'm happy to report that I didn't see her dozing off (thanks in part to the brass and percussion sections, who played their parts marvelously!)

I'm not sure what Nathaniel and I will do with our free time. Luckily he's not flying and is game for tonight's (or tomorrow's) concert. I've tempted him with free desserts and potluck delights after the Sunday performance, as it's the symphony's final concert of the 2009-2010 concert season. And it's one thing to hear Britten's 'War Requiem' - but it's an entirely different story when free brownies and baked goods are offered to musicians and their families afterwards... I'm just saying...

Have a GREAT weekend everyone!

Compressed

First of all, let me start this post by assuring you, that NO PHOTOGRAPHIC evidence exists. None - zero, zilch. And yes, while I realize that a picture equals a thousand words (yadda yadda yadda), I can safely say that some things should just NOT be photographed.

My lower half would be one of those things. (Or would that be two, because I have two feet, two legs, etc?)

Let me back up for a sec, okay?

Do you remember a few months ago, when I was experiencing lower leg problems? Swelling, inability to run without pain, cankles....? Well, I did. It's easy to forget about that with all the sinus and pneumonia drama - trust me, I know.

Anyway, I've had a history of cankles and my lower leg veins-popping experience wasn't going unnoticed. I just didn't know what I could DO about it.

Three weeks ago, things became alarmingly clear.

It was pretty embarrassing, actually. Especially since I noticed it at the gym. While doing lunges of all things. Lunges! I don't mind lunges - they do wonders for the body. And it looks especially impressive if you add an 8 lb medicine ball to your routine. Suddenly the uber hard core Marines flexing the muscles in the mirror take notice.

I took a step forward on my right leg and - WHAM! There it was, clearly defined in the mirror. It flashed briefly, and I thought, for a second that my muscle was having a spasm. Alternate lunge side was fine. Another lunge forward on the right side and - BOOM! Again, I saw what looked like a snake flash up my leg from my ankle to my shorts line.

Um. Hello? Excuse me? WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?

Now, I'm not one to normally gawk. And I certainly don't make a practice of standing in front of mirrors and flexing - we all know I make fun of people like that. But, when I spotted my first varicose vein while lunging, all bets were off.

I waited for the Marines working out behind me to leave, and then within seconds of their departure, I found myself holding the lunge position which made my unsightly vein most noticeable.

Veins.

Uh-oh.

There was more than one.

How? Why? What, where when? WHY??

Miraculously, I managed to not get pulled over while speeding home - and did the first thing that any normal person would do. 1) Looked up every article and source of information about varicose veins on the internet 2) Stared in the mirror at my vein.

Veins. Bloody Hell.

Luckily, I had a doctor's appointment later in the week, so I figured my awesome primary care physician could help me out with any questions or concerns. While lunging at the gym a few days later, I snuck a peek - just to confirm they were still there.

They were.

My doctor was really helpful and referred me to a vascular surgeon.... one ultrasound later (which consisted of holding my breath and making grunting noises akin to giving birth...meant to promote blood flow in the lower extremities...), the surgeon gave me the *great* news. While I'm in great physical health - the valves on my leg arteries are not functioning properly, and therefore causing varicose veins in the superficial veins, blood to pool in the legs, fluid retention, and....cankles!

I remember being the only kid on the high school cross country running team with cankles - yeah. Nothing says awkward teenager, like the violin-playing girl with cankles. Now, I understand why.

Thankfully, there are things we can do NOW to alleviate the pressure and pain and swelling that these veins have been causing. Ultimately, though - the surgeon warned that within 5 to 10 years (sooner if we start a family), I would most likely need to get my veins stripped. It's just how I'm built...the genetic cards I was dealt. Goody!

But taking the bad along with the good - because there are lots of GREAT things I pulled from my relatives that I would NOT change - is a part of life. So, I'll take everything together, and learn as much as I can along the way.

Ultimately, we decided on sclerotherapy - a minimally invasive procedure, that involved injecting the affected veins with a solution that would make them (warning: graphic!) - shrivel up and die. The veins that were causing me problems weren't large enough (YET!) to warrant anything extremely invasive; and the idea was to prevent other veins from being affected, and to eliminate the already-formed varicose veins.

I decided to have the procedure as soon as I could after returning from St. Paul. I'm in week 4 or 5 of my base building period, and given the severity of pain and increased cankle-ness while training (yes, I wear compression socks while running - but I do it for MEDICINAL purposes, NOT for fashion purposes!) - I wanted to get this taken care of asap.

June 1st came and went...my doctor was very nice, and the injections didn't hurt too much. I've actually dealt with much worse pain in my life - but no one likes to hear about that stuff. Broken bones, missing toenails, hiking boot blisters - pretty much a mood killer. Besides, I wanted my doctor to focus on treating my veins. NOT gasp in surprise when I described the size of my last hiking boot blister.

So... I ever-so-helpfully traced the squiggly veins immediately after my Tuesday morning run with a water-friendly colored pencil. He was only slightly alarmed and confessed that initially he thought the lines were scars. But he laughed and said that he had a device that would help him find the veins that needed injecting.

Humph. I didn't know that. I was just being helpful.

45 minutes later - yes 45 minutes to deal with the veins on my leg - we were done.

Immediately after the injections, I needed to put on my compression tights.

Now... these aren't ordinary compression tights. No, no, no my friends. These are medical grade hose, designed for people with severe vascular and leg swelling. And not that I've timed myself...but it takes me between 5-7 minutes to put them on.

Per leg.

Like a sweaty Biggest Looser contestant trying to squeeze into size 2 leather pants. Some things just aren't meant to go together.

They are SO difficult to wrestle on, that the doctor returned to the room and asked if I needed assistance. Yes, yes I do. But I'm too embarrassed to call for help - confined to this plastic exam table in my underwear, sweating, and cursing with medical-grade hose barely over my right foot.

Brilliant!

It didn't help that the techs who entered were younger than me.

*You know you're getting 'older' not only when people younger than you are assisting you with embarrassing tasks, but also - when you are so desperate for their help that you just don't care.

I swear, I thought I heard something 'pop' in our effort to get the hose on, but we eventually got it up. Cooking spray would have helped - barely. Now that I was in, I wasn't sure how I was going to get OUT. But... I had a full 48 hours to contemplate that dilemma. Because per doctor's orders - I was restricted to medical hose AT LEAST 48 hours post-procedure, in order to ensure the superficial veins remained closed.

For good measure, I slid a second knee-high, medical grade compression sock over my waist-high ones. Just to be sure. And no, I was rendered no assistance during that endeavor. But they stood by, just in case.

And then...it was 48 hours of compression-hoosen bliss.

Let me tell you - NOTHING gets a man going like waist-high medical grade compression stockings. (no photographic evidence exists.)

Thankfully, Nathaniel was flying night flights this week, so didn't really notice. And for the record, I'm not exactly sure that's a good thing - the fact that I'm wearing the VERY APPARENT compression gear that I am and my husband of nearly 7 years does NOT notice when he crawls into bed after hours of flying.

The first night was the roughest, because the hose was itchy, hot, and kept pinching me in very intimate areas. Additionally - I found - if I fell asleep with my knee bent or in any position other than straight-legged-and-on-my-back, circulation was cut off. There were some kicks, and I'm embarrassed to admit how many four letter words were uttered before 4 am. For the record - I could feel the welts forming, and was sure that my compression sock's brand would be forever compressed into my skin.

And now...here I am. With another 14 or 15 hours left to go...in my compression hosen bliss. Hopefully though, the varicose veins will be gone, my leg will return to normal, and Nathaniel will notice when I'm no longer in waist-high hose. After nearly 7 years of marriage, that my friends, would be wonderful.

Until then, I'm compressed. And counting down the hours.