One thing I have had to get used to this year is not knowing my workouts very far in advance. You know, like it's Friday night before I know what the weekend training will be. I will not lie. This has been a challenge to get used to. BUT, at the same time (I'm being relentlessly positive here) it's pretty fun to log onto TP and read what I get to do the next day. So I get that little surprise, well, every day instead of just once a week.
So I logged on to Training Peaks the other day with all sorts of great anticipation as to what the weekend would hold... and when I saw '4:00-5:00 hour ride' my initial gut reaction was, "sweet!" Then I saw the 40 min run afterward and I was like "even better." You see, I actually love training long. I know some people dread long bike rides like the plague, but I am not one of them. I have loved long bike rides for as along as I can remember. There's always such a sense of accomplishment after you ride long. And I don't know, I just like doing them.
Whenever I'm given a range of times on a workout I pretty much just only see the longer one so "5 hour ride" was what I actually read. My long ride route took 5:12 two weeks ago when I did it so my plan was to do the same ride again. La la la HR range 140-150 is not quite so la la la anymore, but it's still quite comfortable. Anyway, I was like a kid on Christmas Eve last night getting my nutrition ready and setting out everything I would need for the training day. This felt like a real IRONMAN training day and I was stoked to get it done.
And it was a near perfect day to start the ride. I was out the door pedaling at the first sign of light and watched the sun come up over the ocean ~10 min into my ride. It was beautiful and I thought about how much Beth would like to see a picture of it but there was no way I was stopping any more often than the necessary pit stops on this ride so no pictures. Sorry. Just know that it was absolutely stunning. :)
Steady steady steady I rode. Got to Pineapple Hill and of course had to back off a bit to stay in my HR zone. Now it really was rather la la la as I went up up up... but interestingly, there was this guy riding like 100 meters ahead of me... oh boy. All it would have taken would have been one good surge and I would have been on him like white on rice but I was a good girl and did not go get him. I did wonder though if I could get him while also staying in my HR zone? I wasn't sure. We seemed to be riding about the same pace most of the way up. But of course I got him near the top. So as I passed him I looked down and saw my HR right where it should have been and I was so proud of myself but then realized that all I really did was bring on a passenger. But you know what happened next. He was a man after all. As he passed me back and of course wildly picked up the pace all I thought was, my HR is at 150 buddy. And I caught you. Let it go. Anyway, I did the climb nearly 5 minutes faster than I did 2 weeks ago (at the same HR) and now I am not officially the slowest person ever to do the climb.
I felt really strong riding home and was quite happy that I didn't have instructions to do any intervals over HR 150 b/c that actually would have been some hard work today. As it was I was working as hard as I wanted to at HR 148. You'd think maybe I'm just becoming wimpy and stale in zone 2, but in the end the ride was 14 min faster than 2 weeks ago at the same avg HR. So I was within the 4-5 hour range at 4:58. :)
Within a few minutes of finishing the ride I was out running. I won't lie and say it was a fantastic run, but I would say that the reason for that had nothing to do with weakness in my legs. It was more like the monsoon that rolled in just as I was finishing riding made it super tough for me to run uphill with a low HR into such a stuff headwind and driving sideways rain. (Ha! She blamed it on the weather. Classic, huh?) Maybe one of these days I will be fit enough to run solidly off the bike no matter what the weather.
Anyway, it was awesome today. 96 mile ride, 4.5 mile run, no ceilings spinning afterward. In fact, I'm celebrating with some really good Coconut Porter. This training is freaking awesome. I love Ironman.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Mama Needs New Shoes
There are so many potential titles for this post I had a hard time picking one.
Where Nobody Knows Your Name
Mama Doesn't Fit In Here
I Think The Guy In The Purple Shirt Plays For The Chargers
Bring me Another Martini, Please
Let me back up. Last week I received an email about going to a function that Coffees of Hawaii was sponsoring... was I available on the 27th... yes I was. That was about all I knew. Then some details came in... something about Pro Bowl players and celebrities and VIP and Pearl Ultra Lounge. Um, what? The party starts at 10PM? Attire was 'club/cocktail.' What does that even mean?
I was guessing that Scott's interest in attending an event like this would be about zero, but I have an athlete that I coach who is in her 20's and into football and immediately thought she would be the perfect person to bring along to an event like this. I sent her a message and asked if she wanted to come with me. Yes. She did. Perfect. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.
Then I get another email that says that I only had one ticket. Um, what? Are you serious? I am supposed to go to some VIP party with celebrities and Pro Bowl Players about whom I know nothing at 10PM on a Thursday night by myself?
Am I on candid camera?
I could go on and on here about how I was feeling about going to this party. I know some people would be super stoked about this, and shoot, maybe 10 years ago I would have been one of them. But I got married. And then I gave birth. Doesn't that entitle me to spend the rest of my Thursday nights lounging on my couch in my pajamas watching Grey's Anatomy?
One of my biggest dilemmas was what shoes to wear. I do not have any cocktail dresses so I did the best I could with a pair of capris and a halter top. But the shoes? Flip flops or running shoes? Flip flops or running shoes? Hmmm. Neither of those were going to work. So I dug and dug and in the back of my closet in a storage box I found an old but rather cute pair of sandals with a very thick heel (think platforms) that make me like 5'10". I feel more powerful and confident being 5'10" so even though I haven't worn these shoes in years, I threw them in my bag and took them along. (I couldn't possibly put them on until I was about to walk into the party.)
Anyway, I put on as much makeup as I could, googled the location of The Pearl Ultra Lounge, summoned up some fake confidence from somewhere, and set off to find this VIP Party. The revised info I got said that VIPs and Sponsors could get in at 8:30, so I showed up at about 9:00. Had no problem finding the lounge... it was quite obvious, what with the red carpet and ropes set up at the entrance and several security guards with ear pieces and fashionably attractive young women with lists in their hands making sure that only the important people were granted access.
I sort of hoped that maybe my name wouldn't be on the list after all. But there it was...
"Michelle Simmons (Coffees of Hawaii) +1 guest"
What? +1? The attractive young woman asked where my +1 was. Yeah. See, it would have been nice if somebody would have told me I was allowed to bring a +1 because then I wouldn't be doing this right now all by myself. It occurred to me to call Karen and tell her to get her butt down to this bar immediately but she lives on the other side of the island and it would take her an hour minimum to get there. Whatever. I will go in. I will drink enough alcohol to allow me to chat it up with several people and then I will go home and wipe this make up off and put my pajamas on and go to sleep next to my husband.
They gave me one of those fake Power Balance Bracelets which was my official ticket into the VIP lounge where all the players would be. I walked into the bar where all of about 10 people were sitting in groups of two or three talking quietly. Nice. I sat down at the bar by myself and ordered some liquid courage in the form of a martini.
Very Important People and other football players started flowing into the room. I started small chat with the first guy who came to the bar to order a drink. At some point I asked, "So what is your function here at this party?" Oh, you're the CEO of the Sports Marketing firm putting it on. Excellent. I introduced myself as one of the sponsors and made small talk about our coffee plantation on Moloka'i. He then introduced me to some other guy who actually lives on Moloka'i and knew all about our coffee farm... then I met another solo female rep who flew in from Southern California for the Pro Bowl weekend because her company was sponsoring the event as well... So luckily I didn't end up sitting by myself and drinking alone for too long.
And while I was seemingly the only woman in the room not wearing a little black dress and stilettos, I wasn't the only one who didn't know any of the football players. It was quite obvious which ones were the players (um, they are HUGE) but none of us knew who any of them were. Though the other rep said she was pretty sure that the big guy in the purple shirt over there played for the Chargers. Lol.
At one point I did get my picture taken with a rather famous ex-pro football player who was the head honcho behind this sports marketing firm putting on the party in the first place. And I talked up our coffee a bit to him as well so I felt like it was job accomplished after doing that. And then it seemed to me that maybe I'd had too much to drink because the floor was moving... and I was getting shorter... OK, no more martinis, Michelle.
Or maybe my shoes were just disintegrating right under my feet? Indeed. That was it. OMG. My old shoes were literally falling apart on me in the middle of the Pearl Ultra Lounge. It was as if the clock struck midnight and Cinderella's carriage turned back into a pumpkin. As if I needed another sign to make it clear that this was not my scene and it was time for me to go back home where I belong. Mama is not a VIP. And Mama needs new shoes.
My late night last night did not interrupt my morning routine though. This morning, as I watched the sun come up over the ocean between swim strokes, I thought about how I was infinitely more comfortable here in the choppy ocean than I was at that party last night. This is where Mama belongs. No shoes required.
Where Nobody Knows Your Name
Mama Doesn't Fit In Here
I Think The Guy In The Purple Shirt Plays For The Chargers
Bring me Another Martini, Please
Let me back up. Last week I received an email about going to a function that Coffees of Hawaii was sponsoring... was I available on the 27th... yes I was. That was about all I knew. Then some details came in... something about Pro Bowl players and celebrities and VIP and Pearl Ultra Lounge. Um, what? The party starts at 10PM? Attire was 'club/cocktail.' What does that even mean?
I was guessing that Scott's interest in attending an event like this would be about zero, but I have an athlete that I coach who is in her 20's and into football and immediately thought she would be the perfect person to bring along to an event like this. I sent her a message and asked if she wanted to come with me. Yes. She did. Perfect. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.
Then I get another email that says that I only had one ticket. Um, what? Are you serious? I am supposed to go to some VIP party with celebrities and Pro Bowl Players about whom I know nothing at 10PM on a Thursday night by myself?
Am I on candid camera?
I could go on and on here about how I was feeling about going to this party. I know some people would be super stoked about this, and shoot, maybe 10 years ago I would have been one of them. But I got married. And then I gave birth. Doesn't that entitle me to spend the rest of my Thursday nights lounging on my couch in my pajamas watching Grey's Anatomy?
One of my biggest dilemmas was what shoes to wear. I do not have any cocktail dresses so I did the best I could with a pair of capris and a halter top. But the shoes? Flip flops or running shoes? Flip flops or running shoes? Hmmm. Neither of those were going to work. So I dug and dug and in the back of my closet in a storage box I found an old but rather cute pair of sandals with a very thick heel (think platforms) that make me like 5'10". I feel more powerful and confident being 5'10" so even though I haven't worn these shoes in years, I threw them in my bag and took them along. (I couldn't possibly put them on until I was about to walk into the party.)
Anyway, I put on as much makeup as I could, googled the location of The Pearl Ultra Lounge, summoned up some fake confidence from somewhere, and set off to find this VIP Party. The revised info I got said that VIPs and Sponsors could get in at 8:30, so I showed up at about 9:00. Had no problem finding the lounge... it was quite obvious, what with the red carpet and ropes set up at the entrance and several security guards with ear pieces and fashionably attractive young women with lists in their hands making sure that only the important people were granted access.
I sort of hoped that maybe my name wouldn't be on the list after all. But there it was...
"Michelle Simmons (Coffees of Hawaii) +1 guest"
What? +1? The attractive young woman asked where my +1 was. Yeah. See, it would have been nice if somebody would have told me I was allowed to bring a +1 because then I wouldn't be doing this right now all by myself. It occurred to me to call Karen and tell her to get her butt down to this bar immediately but she lives on the other side of the island and it would take her an hour minimum to get there. Whatever. I will go in. I will drink enough alcohol to allow me to chat it up with several people and then I will go home and wipe this make up off and put my pajamas on and go to sleep next to my husband.
They gave me one of those fake Power Balance Bracelets which was my official ticket into the VIP lounge where all the players would be. I walked into the bar where all of about 10 people were sitting in groups of two or three talking quietly. Nice. I sat down at the bar by myself and ordered some liquid courage in the form of a martini.
Very Important People and other football players started flowing into the room. I started small chat with the first guy who came to the bar to order a drink. At some point I asked, "So what is your function here at this party?" Oh, you're the CEO of the Sports Marketing firm putting it on. Excellent. I introduced myself as one of the sponsors and made small talk about our coffee plantation on Moloka'i. He then introduced me to some other guy who actually lives on Moloka'i and knew all about our coffee farm... then I met another solo female rep who flew in from Southern California for the Pro Bowl weekend because her company was sponsoring the event as well... So luckily I didn't end up sitting by myself and drinking alone for too long.
And while I was seemingly the only woman in the room not wearing a little black dress and stilettos, I wasn't the only one who didn't know any of the football players. It was quite obvious which ones were the players (um, they are HUGE) but none of us knew who any of them were. Though the other rep said she was pretty sure that the big guy in the purple shirt over there played for the Chargers. Lol.
At one point I did get my picture taken with a rather famous ex-pro football player who was the head honcho behind this sports marketing firm putting on the party in the first place. And I talked up our coffee a bit to him as well so I felt like it was job accomplished after doing that. And then it seemed to me that maybe I'd had too much to drink because the floor was moving... and I was getting shorter... OK, no more martinis, Michelle.
Or maybe my shoes were just disintegrating right under my feet? Indeed. That was it. OMG. My old shoes were literally falling apart on me in the middle of the Pearl Ultra Lounge. It was as if the clock struck midnight and Cinderella's carriage turned back into a pumpkin. As if I needed another sign to make it clear that this was not my scene and it was time for me to go back home where I belong. Mama is not a VIP. And Mama needs new shoes.
My late night last night did not interrupt my morning routine though. This morning, as I watched the sun come up over the ocean between swim strokes, I thought about how I was infinitely more comfortable here in the choppy ocean than I was at that party last night. This is where Mama belongs. No shoes required.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
This Is Not Normal
I don't think my two year old is a normal two year old. I mean, in some ways she is. But in other ways, notsomuch.
Take for example, the other night. Scott and I were in her room after her bath... just sort of hanging out and playing. It was 7:45... so right around normal bedtime. Moana insisted on cleaning up her room. She wanted every princess dress and all her magic wands put in her princess trunk. She wanted her clothes from the day in her hamper and all the toys put away as well. Scott and I just sort of looked at each other in awe as she went about picking everything up by herself. I swear to you, we did not even ask her to do this. And then, then, she started singing The Clean Up Song. Clean up clean up everybody clean up...
Let me just tell you that our daycare lady is worth her weight in gold because obviously she was the one who instilled this desire for tidiness in our little princess. I promise you it was not me.
Think that's amazing? Wait for it. So then Moana says to me, "Mama go downstairs now please?" I thought she was asking me if she could go downstairs so I said, "No Moana. It's bedtime. We're not going downstairs now." But she repeated herself so sweetly. "Mama go downstairs now please?" Ok, I can repeat myself too... so I did. Then she said it again. It occurred to me that maybe she was actually asking me to leave her room? Could it possibly be? So I asked her, "Are you asking me to leave your room?" She said, "Yes. Mama go downstairs now please." Then she pointed to Scott. "Daddy go too."
Ok then. I was completely flabbergasted but Scott and I just looked at each other and did what ourbossy independent little daughter asked us to do. She got right in bed and went to sleep.
So today after I picked her up from daycare she started asking for ice cream. Hmmmm. I don't really need this to become a habit but at the same time she eats healthy 90% of the time so a bit of ice cream once/week isn't going to kill anyone... so what the heck. Coldstone Creamery, we're baaaack. Moana went running in there squealing like a little piglet in a mud puddle. In good news, that place is empty at 4:30 in the afternoon on a Wednesday so no worries if she's dancing and twirling and squealing while pointing to the picture of the ice cream cone on the wall. ICE CREAM YOU SCREAM SOMEBODY WAS JUST SO HAPPY! Anyway, she ate the majority of a small ice cream. Normal enough I suppose.
But then we went shopping at Safeway. I was buying spinach and kale and broccoli and all the stuff that is safe to reside in our house. And guess who insisted on eating some of that raw broccoli? Yep. Mint ice cream with brownies followed by dessert of raw broccoli. I am not making this up. She then insisted on eating the leaf. What? The leaf? Yes. She wanted to eat the kale. Raw kale. I kid you not.
You know what else is not normal? Swimming 1300 meters with your feet tied together. Using paddles. But no pull buoy. I have more to say about this but that's for another post that is still brewing in my head. For now, a picture of the scene of the crime. Nice pool, huh? So what if there are no pace clocks and no lane lines. It's a mile from my house. And it's free. And the view is not too shabby.
This actually is pretty normal on my side of the island... I had to stop to take that picture the other day when I was riding.
What? This is not your normal turn around point of your weekday ride?
Ok, one more pic here... for Beth who is stuck inside on her trainer for like 8 hours every weekend. Now THAT is not normal... ;)
Take for example, the other night. Scott and I were in her room after her bath... just sort of hanging out and playing. It was 7:45... so right around normal bedtime. Moana insisted on cleaning up her room. She wanted every princess dress and all her magic wands put in her princess trunk. She wanted her clothes from the day in her hamper and all the toys put away as well. Scott and I just sort of looked at each other in awe as she went about picking everything up by herself. I swear to you, we did not even ask her to do this. And then, then, she started singing The Clean Up Song. Clean up clean up everybody clean up...
Let me just tell you that our daycare lady is worth her weight in gold because obviously she was the one who instilled this desire for tidiness in our little princess. I promise you it was not me.
Think that's amazing? Wait for it. So then Moana says to me, "Mama go downstairs now please?" I thought she was asking me if she could go downstairs so I said, "No Moana. It's bedtime. We're not going downstairs now." But she repeated herself so sweetly. "Mama go downstairs now please?" Ok, I can repeat myself too... so I did. Then she said it again. It occurred to me that maybe she was actually asking me to leave her room? Could it possibly be? So I asked her, "Are you asking me to leave your room?" She said, "Yes. Mama go downstairs now please." Then she pointed to Scott. "Daddy go too."
Ok then. I was completely flabbergasted but Scott and I just looked at each other and did what our
So today after I picked her up from daycare she started asking for ice cream. Hmmmm. I don't really need this to become a habit but at the same time she eats healthy 90% of the time so a bit of ice cream once/week isn't going to kill anyone... so what the heck. Coldstone Creamery, we're baaaack. Moana went running in there squealing like a little piglet in a mud puddle. In good news, that place is empty at 4:30 in the afternoon on a Wednesday so no worries if she's dancing and twirling and squealing while pointing to the picture of the ice cream cone on the wall. ICE CREAM YOU SCREAM SOMEBODY WAS JUST SO HAPPY! Anyway, she ate the majority of a small ice cream. Normal enough I suppose.
But then we went shopping at Safeway. I was buying spinach and kale and broccoli and all the stuff that is safe to reside in our house. And guess who insisted on eating some of that raw broccoli? Yep. Mint ice cream with brownies followed by dessert of raw broccoli. I am not making this up. She then insisted on eating the leaf. What? The leaf? Yes. She wanted to eat the kale. Raw kale. I kid you not.
You know what else is not normal? Swimming 1300 meters with your feet tied together. Using paddles. But no pull buoy. I have more to say about this but that's for another post that is still brewing in my head. For now, a picture of the scene of the crime. Nice pool, huh? So what if there are no pace clocks and no lane lines. It's a mile from my house. And it's free. And the view is not too shabby.
This actually is pretty normal on my side of the island... I had to stop to take that picture the other day when I was riding.
What? This is not your normal turn around point of your weekday ride?
Ok, one more pic here... for Beth who is stuck inside on her trainer for like 8 hours every weekend. Now THAT is not normal... ;)
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Training Is Like A Tube Of Toothpaste
One thing I've been thinking about a lot lately is concrete proof of progress we make while training. In the past I've relied a lot on perceived exertion to mark my progress. Did I feel good or not? And I would compare that to the total time it would take me to complete a specific run route or bike route or swim set... sometimes I would feel great but maybe the times didn't reflect progress, or vice versa... sometimes it would all come together and I would feel great AND go faster than before... and then sometimes notsomuch. But I don't think I've ever really experienced a very linear progression of progress. At least not like the one I feel like I'm experiencing now. Right now I feel like I'm experiencing concrete proof of progress nearly every time I train. It's really freakin' cool.
I read this analogy somewhere- I should be giving credit to someone for this but I can't remember who so forgive me and just know that I am not trying to take credit for this analogy... But he compared endurance athletes to a tube of toothpaste. You know, when you have a brand new tube of toothpaste, you can pretty much squeeze it anywhere and toothpaste will come out. Likewise, with a new athlete, pretty much any type of training this athlete does is going to result in progress. As long as said new athlete doesn't get injured, there are lots of different types of training that will produce good results.
Now let's think about that tube of toothpaste after its been used for a while... having been squeezed, say, randomly or from the middle. After you've gotten all the toothpaste out of the top half of the tube, you can squeeze and squeeze and squeeze from the middle but no more toothpaste will come out. But there's still more in there. So what do you have to do at this point? Well, you go back to the bottom of the tube and start carefully rolling a little bit at a time... and you roll and roll and roll and for a while maybe nothing even comes out... but in fact what you are doing is positioning that tube to be able to release all of the toothpaste without leaving any leftover and stuck in the bottom.
I feel like this is what I'm doing with my training right now... like I went back to the bottom of the toothpaste tube and am carefully rolling and rolling... and every time I take a running step or pedal a stroke on my bike right now I picture myself carefully rolling up my toothpaste tube right from the bottom. Right now there's not a lot of toothpaste coming out. But that's just because I've been squeezing from the middle for so long...
Back to this idea of concrete proof of progress. My definition of progress right not doesn't actually have much to do with speed. For me right now, it is about building fitness. Remember how last week I was all excited about the fact that I could finally run up the 1/2 mile hill to my house at HR<155 without walking? That was concrete progress when you look at it in terms of fitness. Yesterday I ran up that same hill, HR<155 while pushing Moana in the baby jogger. Seems to me that's pretty concrete... No matter what speed I was doing it at... Because let's face it, last week I could not have done that at all.
Where are you squeezing your tube of toothpaste?
I read this analogy somewhere- I should be giving credit to someone for this but I can't remember who so forgive me and just know that I am not trying to take credit for this analogy... But he compared endurance athletes to a tube of toothpaste. You know, when you have a brand new tube of toothpaste, you can pretty much squeeze it anywhere and toothpaste will come out. Likewise, with a new athlete, pretty much any type of training this athlete does is going to result in progress. As long as said new athlete doesn't get injured, there are lots of different types of training that will produce good results.
Now let's think about that tube of toothpaste after its been used for a while... having been squeezed, say, randomly or from the middle. After you've gotten all the toothpaste out of the top half of the tube, you can squeeze and squeeze and squeeze from the middle but no more toothpaste will come out. But there's still more in there. So what do you have to do at this point? Well, you go back to the bottom of the tube and start carefully rolling a little bit at a time... and you roll and roll and roll and for a while maybe nothing even comes out... but in fact what you are doing is positioning that tube to be able to release all of the toothpaste without leaving any leftover and stuck in the bottom.
I feel like this is what I'm doing with my training right now... like I went back to the bottom of the toothpaste tube and am carefully rolling and rolling... and every time I take a running step or pedal a stroke on my bike right now I picture myself carefully rolling up my toothpaste tube right from the bottom. Right now there's not a lot of toothpaste coming out. But that's just because I've been squeezing from the middle for so long...
Back to this idea of concrete proof of progress. My definition of progress right not doesn't actually have much to do with speed. For me right now, it is about building fitness. Remember how last week I was all excited about the fact that I could finally run up the 1/2 mile hill to my house at HR<155 without walking? That was concrete progress when you look at it in terms of fitness. Yesterday I ran up that same hill, HR<155 while pushing Moana in the baby jogger. Seems to me that's pretty concrete... No matter what speed I was doing it at... Because let's face it, last week I could not have done that at all.
Where are you squeezing your tube of toothpaste?
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Po Sum On!
La la la... another weekend done and gone.
I was just going to give Moana her bath and put her to bed, but right as we were going up she said, "No! I want daddy bath..." OK then. Mama is free to waste away the evening on the blog. :) I probably have 1000 other things I could be doing but just don't feel like it at the moment. My bike is clean (can you believe I actually cleaned it this afternoon? Amazing.) and all my athletes have their schedules for this week so really the only other thing to do is massage my calf.
For the most part my calf has been behaving and I've been able to run pretty consistently. Got in ~45 miles this week which seems pretty good to me. Funny though, it did not feel like a lot. Maybe because none of it was hard so running does not wear me out like it used to. Sometimes I feel like I could just run and run and run forever. I can feel/see myself getting faster at the lower HR which is cool and motivating and also makes me want to run more. I get all excited at these little gains but then if I compare the times I'm putting out on my typical routes to the times I have done in years past, well, let's just say I should not do that. But I do it anyway. And then I start to feel this little frustration build. But then I look at my average HR for the runs and see it at 151 and remember that I just cannot compare that to what I used to do to myself. It's like I need to just erase all my old routes and start with new ones that I don't know how long they will take. But that is hard when you have lived in the same house for 6+ years and have run every road within 10 miles of your house multiple times... I'm rambling now.
Back to my calf... it was bugging me a bit last week so I went to see Magic Man again. I expressed my frustration about how it gets tight nearly every time I run and I'm afraid I'm going to hurt it again... so he 'got aggressive with it' last week. Um, OUCH. It was hands down the most painful appointment I've had with him to date. BUT, I woke up Monday morning and was able to run so the pain was worth it. He also gave me this special chinese medicated oil and told me to massage a couple drops of it in several times each day. Not sure exactly what this stuff is, but I know the vapor of it burns my eyes if my head gets too close to my calf while I'm massaging it. Powerful stuff. And of course Scott can smell it too (from anywhere in the house if I so much as open the bottle) and he was like, what is this stuff?? Of course the info on the bottle is written in Chinese so we really don't know. There are a few English letters written on the bottle though... You have to imagine Scott using his best Chinese accent... Po Sum On! Lol.
We laughed about that pretty good, but all laughing aside, this stuff is magic. I'm pretty sure my calf pain/tightness comes from a lack of blood flow to/through the compartments in my calf... this stuff just opens it all up (and my sinuses too!) and blood flows freely and ta-dah! No more tightness. Perfect. So I po it on daily now.
In old news, I finally got my hands on the video from a few weeks ago- the one that shows Nalani and I playing tug of war in the pool! (Her husband taped it for us.) I'm the one on the left in the blue suit... It's not really very exciting, but I posted it anyway in case you're interested. Basically we tied ourselves together with a thick stretch cord and then swam in opposite directions trying to pull each other across the pool. This was much harder than it looks. In my memory of this I was flat out giving 100% here but in the video it looks like I'm la la la just cruising. Funny how swimming is like that. Anyway, it appears that I did start to pull her my way but what this video doesn't show is that I just gave up and stopped not too long after this. And also, if my memory serves me right, this was at the end of a w/o that included a swim test of 5 x 300's fast as we could go. I'm lucky I survived at all.
Waiting for coach to put this on my schedule during a swim workout... If he said go until one of you reaches the other end, it might just take the whole hour. That would be the hardest swim workout ever.
I was just going to give Moana her bath and put her to bed, but right as we were going up she said, "No! I want daddy bath..." OK then. Mama is free to waste away the evening on the blog. :) I probably have 1000 other things I could be doing but just don't feel like it at the moment. My bike is clean (can you believe I actually cleaned it this afternoon? Amazing.) and all my athletes have their schedules for this week so really the only other thing to do is massage my calf.
For the most part my calf has been behaving and I've been able to run pretty consistently. Got in ~45 miles this week which seems pretty good to me. Funny though, it did not feel like a lot. Maybe because none of it was hard so running does not wear me out like it used to. Sometimes I feel like I could just run and run and run forever. I can feel/see myself getting faster at the lower HR which is cool and motivating and also makes me want to run more. I get all excited at these little gains but then if I compare the times I'm putting out on my typical routes to the times I have done in years past, well, let's just say I should not do that. But I do it anyway. And then I start to feel this little frustration build. But then I look at my average HR for the runs and see it at 151 and remember that I just cannot compare that to what I used to do to myself. It's like I need to just erase all my old routes and start with new ones that I don't know how long they will take. But that is hard when you have lived in the same house for 6+ years and have run every road within 10 miles of your house multiple times... I'm rambling now.
Back to my calf... it was bugging me a bit last week so I went to see Magic Man again. I expressed my frustration about how it gets tight nearly every time I run and I'm afraid I'm going to hurt it again... so he 'got aggressive with it' last week. Um, OUCH. It was hands down the most painful appointment I've had with him to date. BUT, I woke up Monday morning and was able to run so the pain was worth it. He also gave me this special chinese medicated oil and told me to massage a couple drops of it in several times each day. Not sure exactly what this stuff is, but I know the vapor of it burns my eyes if my head gets too close to my calf while I'm massaging it. Powerful stuff. And of course Scott can smell it too (from anywhere in the house if I so much as open the bottle) and he was like, what is this stuff?? Of course the info on the bottle is written in Chinese so we really don't know. There are a few English letters written on the bottle though... You have to imagine Scott using his best Chinese accent... Po Sum On! Lol.
In old news, I finally got my hands on the video from a few weeks ago- the one that shows Nalani and I playing tug of war in the pool! (Her husband taped it for us.) I'm the one on the left in the blue suit... It's not really very exciting, but I posted it anyway in case you're interested. Basically we tied ourselves together with a thick stretch cord and then swam in opposite directions trying to pull each other across the pool. This was much harder than it looks. In my memory of this I was flat out giving 100% here but in the video it looks like I'm la la la just cruising. Funny how swimming is like that. Anyway, it appears that I did start to pull her my way but what this video doesn't show is that I just gave up and stopped not too long after this. And also, if my memory serves me right, this was at the end of a w/o that included a swim test of 5 x 300's fast as we could go. I'm lucky I survived at all.
Waiting for coach to put this on my schedule during a swim workout... If he said go until one of you reaches the other end, it might just take the whole hour. That would be the hardest swim workout ever.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
The Moana Chronicles, January 2011
Life with my two year old is still a heck of a lot of fun. I thought maybe I jinxed myself last month when I said that I didn't know what people were talking about when they said "Terrible Two's", but I didn't. Phew. Moana is still just the cutest little doll. Though now she is one that speaks. Loudly. And a lot. Not unlike a parrot, actually.
Today she was 'helping me' put on a pair of slippers. This made her very happy. She said, "I help Mama!" Yes, Moana, thank you for helping. You are a real help. Then after my slippers were successfully on my feet she said, "It's time to go home now, sweetheart." Which was especially funny because we were in my bedroom. And I never call her sweetheart. She must have gotten that from Grammy?
This afternoon I got home from my run and she was outside on our patio drawing with chalk. She was instructing Scott to draw a hexagon. Yes. She's two. She counted up the 6 sides and cheered for daddy, squealing Yay hexagon! Once again, I asked Scott, "Is she really requesting that you draw hexagons? That's a big word for a two year old, isn't it?" Then he said, Oh you should have heard her a little bit ago. She found a piece of glass outside and said that it was camouflaged. I had to use spell check on that one. Moana is now using words that Mama doesn't know how to spell. Perfect.
The other day after I picked her up at daycare I don't know what came over me, but I took her to Coldstone Creamery. I haven't been to Coldstone in probably 4 years, which means she has never been there... but she has had ice cream before and, um, it did not take her long to figure out what goes on in a place like that. ICE CREAM. YOU SCREAM. WE ALL SCREAM FOR ICE CREAM. I now know where that chant came from. Oh my. I have never seen her happier. It was better than Christmas morning. Seriously.
The new bed thing has worked out perfectly, She's been a total champ about staying in it when she's supposed to. Once or twice we have caught her getting out of it so she could dig into her princess trunk... What's interesting about that is that as soon as she sees us she puts her little tail between her legs and dives right back into bed. So clearly she has an understanding about when she's supposed to stay in it. So far though, she has not made a single venture out of her room during night or nap time. I'm impressed.
What I'm not impressed with is her complete and utter lack of desire to sit on the potty. We were doing pretty well there for a while but then I really screwed it up when I attempted to bribe her to do it more consistently. Everyone said the bribing worked for their kids... and I am not opposed to giving her some M&M's sometimes... but once she figured out that it was important enough to me that I was willing to give her M&M's if she did it, well, she drew the line in the sand and just completely stopped cold turkey. So I backed off this issue and won't approach it again for a little while, and when I do, I'll be skipping the bribes. I wish that worked for us, but it did not. Go figure.
And speaking of drawing lines in the sand, this morning Moana and I were doing some of that at the beach... she was having a ball. I swear, taking her to the beach just gets better and better every week. Except that today she started wailing about an 'owie' on her foot (she does this a lot, especially in the middle of the night but 99% of the time she's crying wolf b/c she just wants a kiss from mama at 2AM and yes, I go in and kiss her foot. Then the other foot because that one always hurts too) so at first I was not especially responsive. But, turns out I was just being insensitive because she had huge welts on her foot, ankle and hand. Poor thing must have gotten a jellyfish or man-o-war? I didn't see one but the welts were proof enough for me. I've been stung by those things plenty of times and they do hurt like hell so I was worried for her. I call the doc to ask what I should do to help her... but then like 15 minutes later she was back to her smiling little happy self asking for Jamba Juice. Phew. So in good news, she's not allergic to man-o-war.
Unfortunately she still likes to eat sand. Not sure what's up with that?
Today she was 'helping me' put on a pair of slippers. This made her very happy. She said, "I help Mama!" Yes, Moana, thank you for helping. You are a real help. Then after my slippers were successfully on my feet she said, "It's time to go home now, sweetheart." Which was especially funny because we were in my bedroom. And I never call her sweetheart. She must have gotten that from Grammy?
This afternoon I got home from my run and she was outside on our patio drawing with chalk. She was instructing Scott to draw a hexagon. Yes. She's two. She counted up the 6 sides and cheered for daddy, squealing Yay hexagon! Once again, I asked Scott, "Is she really requesting that you draw hexagons? That's a big word for a two year old, isn't it?" Then he said, Oh you should have heard her a little bit ago. She found a piece of glass outside and said that it was camouflaged. I had to use spell check on that one. Moana is now using words that Mama doesn't know how to spell. Perfect.
The other day after I picked her up at daycare I don't know what came over me, but I took her to Coldstone Creamery. I haven't been to Coldstone in probably 4 years, which means she has never been there... but she has had ice cream before and, um, it did not take her long to figure out what goes on in a place like that. ICE CREAM. YOU SCREAM. WE ALL SCREAM FOR ICE CREAM. I now know where that chant came from. Oh my. I have never seen her happier. It was better than Christmas morning. Seriously.
The new bed thing has worked out perfectly, She's been a total champ about staying in it when she's supposed to. Once or twice we have caught her getting out of it so she could dig into her princess trunk... What's interesting about that is that as soon as she sees us she puts her little tail between her legs and dives right back into bed. So clearly she has an understanding about when she's supposed to stay in it. So far though, she has not made a single venture out of her room during night or nap time. I'm impressed.
What I'm not impressed with is her complete and utter lack of desire to sit on the potty. We were doing pretty well there for a while but then I really screwed it up when I attempted to bribe her to do it more consistently. Everyone said the bribing worked for their kids... and I am not opposed to giving her some M&M's sometimes... but once she figured out that it was important enough to me that I was willing to give her M&M's if she did it, well, she drew the line in the sand and just completely stopped cold turkey. So I backed off this issue and won't approach it again for a little while, and when I do, I'll be skipping the bribes. I wish that worked for us, but it did not. Go figure.
And speaking of drawing lines in the sand, this morning Moana and I were doing some of that at the beach... she was having a ball. I swear, taking her to the beach just gets better and better every week. Except that today she started wailing about an 'owie' on her foot (she does this a lot, especially in the middle of the night but 99% of the time she's crying wolf b/c she just wants a kiss from mama at 2AM and yes, I go in and kiss her foot. Then the other foot because that one always hurts too) so at first I was not especially responsive. But, turns out I was just being insensitive because she had huge welts on her foot, ankle and hand. Poor thing must have gotten a jellyfish or man-o-war? I didn't see one but the welts were proof enough for me. I've been stung by those things plenty of times and they do hurt like hell so I was worried for her. I call the doc to ask what I should do to help her... but then like 15 minutes later she was back to her smiling little happy self asking for Jamba Juice. Phew. So in good news, she's not allergic to man-o-war.
Unfortunately she still likes to eat sand. Not sure what's up with that?
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
meow
So this morning, at the end of our swim, Nalani and I were doing some hard 100's with paddles and bands... strength/power building stuff... It's hard, especially at the end of the workout, and it exposes weakness if you're not a powerful swimmer. While Nalani is a beautiful (and fast) swimmer, she uses good technique to get through the water rather than brut strength. I, on the other hand, rely pretty much solely on brut strength so this kind of set is usually quite fun for me.
After the 3rd one we were recovering at the wall and about to take off on #4. In an attempt to motivate Nalani, I let out a ROAR! I said, Come on, Nalani, ROAR! It'll help. Then just as we pushed off she let out a meek little meow.
It was the most freakin' hilarious thing I've ever heard during a swim workout. Do you know how hard it is to try to swim fast with paddles and bands around your ankles when you are laughing underwater? It's very hard. Oh my. I tried so hard to stop laughing and focus on working hard but I just could not. All I heard in my head that whole 100 was meow. I'm still laughing. That girl cracks.me.up.
After the 3rd one we were recovering at the wall and about to take off on #4. In an attempt to motivate Nalani, I let out a ROAR! I said, Come on, Nalani, ROAR! It'll help. Then just as we pushed off she let out a meek little meow.
It was the most freakin' hilarious thing I've ever heard during a swim workout. Do you know how hard it is to try to swim fast with paddles and bands around your ankles when you are laughing underwater? It's very hard. Oh my. I tried so hard to stop laughing and focus on working hard but I just could not. All I heard in my head that whole 100 was meow. I'm still laughing. That girl cracks.me.up.
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