After a great weekend for running, I knew that today had to be a rest day. Particularly if I intend on buddy running on Tuesday and Wednesday.
But what a day to miss! This morning was the first pleasant walk I’ve had from my garage to work—not only was the sun almost out, the wind wasn’t chappy and the air smelled like spring. I’m pumped about how this walk will feel in the summer.
On the way home, I drove with the windows down and itched with jealousy at all the runners I saw on the streets. Good news is that the rest of the week—short of some chances of showers—looks quite agreeable. It was opening day for the Indians, so I kicked up my feet and ate dinner with high blood pressure as the team pulled out another close one.
I wondered whether Cleveland fans have, on average, higher blood pressure than other sports fans. Can other teams possibly be in high-stress situations on such a regular basis?
But I didn’t relax for too long. After dinner, I made… attempted to make a vanilla chai smoothie. My blender, however, had other plans. I poured in the chai tea, ice and vanilla probiotic drink; the chai, ice, drink poured out. The bottom. You’d think I would have stopped there, but no. I tightened the bottom and blended.
Clean freaks beware. This story gets dirty.
The blender exploded! Not only did the blade bust off and glass pitcher break, my would-be smoothie sprayed everywhere. It came out the top, the bottom, the sides. Ugh. My rest night unraveled into a night of scrubbing.
What’s even worse: I tried to make a vanilla chai probiotic drink by hand, and it turns out you can’t mix anything with Danactiv. It tastes kind of gross by itself; it tastes pretty bad with anything else. I’ll still drink it periodically for my stomach health, but I’ll nix my probiotic smoothie shop idea.
With the blender catastrophe behind me, I did some aerobic exercise and then settled in with my computer. It was a pleasant surprise to get an email from an old bud Lisa, who worked with me at Kent State before heading to NC.
She was driving home from work today and listening to NPR when she heard (gulp) a letter I wrote. The note didn’t exactly come across as I intended (it never does) and they cut it short (they always do), so my one shining moment wasn’t all I thought it would be (it never is).
Sigh.
And I found myself gasping like Tom Hanks in You’ve Got Mail: “Well, that’s not all I said…” Oh well.
Showing posts with label resting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label resting. Show all posts
Monday, March 31, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
I’m Sorry Mr. Clarke
According to Neil, I just killed Arthur C. Clarke.
See, I have this strange belief that famous people die in the threes. And when two go, I always say to him, “Uh-oh, Britney Spears better watch herself…” so Neil can curse me for cursing someone else.
I don’t actually believe there’s some cosmic pattern-making in the deaths of celebrities, but the three-to-go trend is just something I noticed years ago and like to point out to Neil. Because it freaks him out and makes him think I have special powers. And anytime I strike fear in someone on that level, I like to take advantage of the opportunity.
Beware the G!
Believe me: I’m not playing willy-nilly with people lives, and I definitely had nothing to do with Heath Ledger’s death. On three very odd occasions, however, my words on celebrity deaths have struck a little too close for comfort.
Example 1: Flipping through a New Yorker issue that feature a retrospective on Richard Avedon’s photos for the magazine, I looked up and said to Neil, “I want to become a renowned writer (or renowned anything else, for that matter) and have Richard Avedon take my portrait for The New Yorker before he dies." That was September 30, 2004. He died the next day.
Example 2: Two days before my 25th birthday, I finished reading a short story by Arthur Miller. Marveling at the brilliance of his fiction-writing, I said outloud but to no one in particular, “All I want for my birthday is to meet Arthur Miller before he dies.” He died Feb. 10, 2005. My birthday.
Example 3: One week ago I was re-reading some materials from a software engineering class I took in college with an awesome professor. We read plenty of Arthur C. Clarke’s work on technology, the future and ethics for the class. And as I finished reading a piece on the responsibility of technology, I said, “Arthur C. Clarke would be an incredible guy to know. I hope I can meet him before he dies.” Sigh.
What’s the lesson here? Famous-for-good-reasons people need to meet me ASAP before I curse them. Really.
Well, not really. I don’t actually believe I have a magic death wand, but coincidences have a way of freaking me out.
(Note: Bridget has brought up a good fear in the comments below. Let me assure you that my fatal words generally pertain to elderly, mostly male celebrities. In fact, they're typically in their eighties or nineties. And while I hope to see everyone at a race some day, I promise not to curse you.)
Think I’m crazy? You’re probably right. And I was really crazy not to go running last night after work. It stopped raining by 5 p.m. and it was poking above freezing when I was outside. But I opted to rest, again. With good reason.
My plans for today include a post-work run with Landon, which will be my first run-with-somebody trek in a very long time. Call me a running loner. I think my running fitness, however, has improved since my old two-miler days on the track with JG before this generation of me arrived. And I’m looking forward to running into Monica for some post-work running in the coming weeks as well.
It's supposed to rain ALL DAY LONG, so I'm kicking myself for not running yesterday when I had the opportunity (but not the energy) to not get cold, soaked and sick doing it. But who believes weather.com these days anyway? Shucks.
Running with others, though, will all be a really nice change of pace; I’m totally into that these days.
See, I have this strange belief that famous people die in the threes. And when two go, I always say to him, “Uh-oh, Britney Spears better watch herself…” so Neil can curse me for cursing someone else.
I don’t actually believe there’s some cosmic pattern-making in the deaths of celebrities, but the three-to-go trend is just something I noticed years ago and like to point out to Neil. Because it freaks him out and makes him think I have special powers. And anytime I strike fear in someone on that level, I like to take advantage of the opportunity.
Beware the G!
Believe me: I’m not playing willy-nilly with people lives, and I definitely had nothing to do with Heath Ledger’s death. On three very odd occasions, however, my words on celebrity deaths have struck a little too close for comfort.
Example 1: Flipping through a New Yorker issue that feature a retrospective on Richard Avedon’s photos for the magazine, I looked up and said to Neil, “I want to become a renowned writer (or renowned anything else, for that matter) and have Richard Avedon take my portrait for The New Yorker before he dies." That was September 30, 2004. He died the next day.
Example 2: Two days before my 25th birthday, I finished reading a short story by Arthur Miller. Marveling at the brilliance of his fiction-writing, I said outloud but to no one in particular, “All I want for my birthday is to meet Arthur Miller before he dies.” He died Feb. 10, 2005. My birthday.Example 3: One week ago I was re-reading some materials from a software engineering class I took in college with an awesome professor. We read plenty of Arthur C. Clarke’s work on technology, the future and ethics for the class. And as I finished reading a piece on the responsibility of technology, I said, “Arthur C. Clarke would be an incredible guy to know. I hope I can meet him before he dies.” Sigh.What’s the lesson here? Famous-for-good-reasons people need to meet me ASAP before I curse them. Really.
Well, not really. I don’t actually believe I have a magic death wand, but coincidences have a way of freaking me out.
(Note: Bridget has brought up a good fear in the comments below. Let me assure you that my fatal words generally pertain to elderly, mostly male celebrities. In fact, they're typically in their eighties or nineties. And while I hope to see everyone at a race some day, I promise not to curse you.)
Think I’m crazy? You’re probably right. And I was really crazy not to go running last night after work. It stopped raining by 5 p.m. and it was poking above freezing when I was outside. But I opted to rest, again. With good reason.
My plans for today include a post-work run with Landon, which will be my first run-with-somebody trek in a very long time. Call me a running loner. I think my running fitness, however, has improved since my old two-miler days on the track with JG before this generation of me arrived. And I’m looking forward to running into Monica for some post-work running in the coming weeks as well.
It's supposed to rain ALL DAY LONG, so I'm kicking myself for not running yesterday when I had the opportunity (but not the energy) to not get cold, soaked and sick doing it. But who believes weather.com these days anyway? Shucks.
Running with others, though, will all be a really nice change of pace; I’m totally into that these days.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Running Around in Four-Inch Boots
Last Friday, Neil and I joined some friends for a November tradition: Over the Rhine. The band (if you haven’t yet, check out their Web site and listen to their latest album) always ends up at Kent Stage around late November and we can’t help but love them. Sigh. They also released a top-notch holiday album last year, Snow Angels, which ties A Charlie Brown Christmas as the best holiday album of all time. No kidding.
But the reason I mention the show—aside from spreading the joy of Over the Rhine—is our other November tradition: running from/to the car, which is always about a half mile or more away, in the cold before and after an Over the Rhine show. In years past, the sensibility of my wardrobe hasn’t been the best. This year, however, was different. While I wore a short black dress to the show, I went super trendy with running tights disguised as leggings beneath the dress, and I was pretty warm and ready to run!
Now, I thought the only downfall to my brilliant plan was that I was wearing four-inch platform boots. Au contraire, mon ami! It turns out these boots were made for running (even if I did roll my ankle every third step when I first bought them a few years ago) and I’m thinking they should be my new running shoes. Woo hoo!
We started our jaunt at Kent Stage, ran downhill on Main Street in downtown Kent and took a sharp right past out-of-the-bar smokers and waddling college students before hitting the final stretch along Franklin’s brick road. It was touch-and-go with the wobbly pavement and some potholes, but I made it to the car feeling warmed up and not at all sore in the left leg. Perhaps those four inches of platform eat up the shock and I should start investing in more Spice Girls attire for next running season.
Running since Friday, however, hasn’t been so great. I’ve had almost regular soreness in my left leg—mostly muscle or ligament or tendon or mental pain—and have stuck to my ibuprofen diet. What a bummer! But I have to say it wasn't caused by the boot run. It's been a fairly regular thing.
So, I’ve turned back to my jolly old plan of yoga, pilates and rec. center machines to keep me going. And tomorrow I swear I’m going to hit the pool. I’m also trying to get myself rolling on a twice-weekly spinning plan, but I’ve really only made it twice in three weeks. Or was it thrice? Nevertheless, I’m nervously hitting the bikes and elliptical at the rec. in a mad effort to keep up my cardio. Losing my cardio shape would break my heart. In more ways than one!
My plan for now is stop running until the end of December (the end of December?) and keep up with every other part of my regiment that doesn’t involve pounding on my lower leg. I was reading an article in Runner’s World yesterday, which was oddly enough about knees and not broken legs at all (although they're sometimes related), that made me realize rushing my leg to wellness won’t actually make it better. And while I realize that this article is about the seventeenth thing I swear is making me think better about rushing back to miles, I’m hoping it will be the last thing. The only thing left is a broken leg, so I’ll keep my fingers crossed that I won’t return to being an idiot.
In far more exciting news, my friend Stef just had a baby girl named Kelsie Golda (I heart Golda) and I can’t wait to see the two gorgeous girls!
But for now I’m going to let Pablo Domene Lee, who seems to have disappeared from the Internet, kick my butt again. I did half his yoga session this morning, so my right side is stretched and sore while my left side has no idea. It’s a strange feeling and I need to evenly spread the pain…
But the reason I mention the show—aside from spreading the joy of Over the Rhine—is our other November tradition: running from/to the car, which is always about a half mile or more away, in the cold before and after an Over the Rhine show. In years past, the sensibility of my wardrobe hasn’t been the best. This year, however, was different. While I wore a short black dress to the show, I went super trendy with running tights disguised as leggings beneath the dress, and I was pretty warm and ready to run!
Now, I thought the only downfall to my brilliant plan was that I was wearing four-inch platform boots. Au contraire, mon ami! It turns out these boots were made for running (even if I did roll my ankle every third step when I first bought them a few years ago) and I’m thinking they should be my new running shoes. Woo hoo!
We started our jaunt at Kent Stage, ran downhill on Main Street in downtown Kent and took a sharp right past out-of-the-bar smokers and waddling college students before hitting the final stretch along Franklin’s brick road. It was touch-and-go with the wobbly pavement and some potholes, but I made it to the car feeling warmed up and not at all sore in the left leg. Perhaps those four inches of platform eat up the shock and I should start investing in more Spice Girls attire for next running season.
Running since Friday, however, hasn’t been so great. I’ve had almost regular soreness in my left leg—mostly muscle or ligament or tendon or mental pain—and have stuck to my ibuprofen diet. What a bummer! But I have to say it wasn't caused by the boot run. It's been a fairly regular thing.
So, I’ve turned back to my jolly old plan of yoga, pilates and rec. center machines to keep me going. And tomorrow I swear I’m going to hit the pool. I’m also trying to get myself rolling on a twice-weekly spinning plan, but I’ve really only made it twice in three weeks. Or was it thrice? Nevertheless, I’m nervously hitting the bikes and elliptical at the rec. in a mad effort to keep up my cardio. Losing my cardio shape would break my heart. In more ways than one!
My plan for now is stop running until the end of December (the end of December?) and keep up with every other part of my regiment that doesn’t involve pounding on my lower leg. I was reading an article in Runner’s World yesterday, which was oddly enough about knees and not broken legs at all (although they're sometimes related), that made me realize rushing my leg to wellness won’t actually make it better. And while I realize that this article is about the seventeenth thing I swear is making me think better about rushing back to miles, I’m hoping it will be the last thing. The only thing left is a broken leg, so I’ll keep my fingers crossed that I won’t return to being an idiot.
In far more exciting news, my friend Stef just had a baby girl named Kelsie Golda (I heart Golda) and I can’t wait to see the two gorgeous girls!
But for now I’m going to let Pablo Domene Lee, who seems to have disappeared from the Internet, kick my butt again. I did half his yoga session this morning, so my right side is stretched and sore while my left side has no idea. It’s a strange feeling and I need to evenly spread the pain…
Friday, October 26, 2007
Good News!
The good news is that my left leg isn’t broken. It didn’t crack up the fibula and down the tibia, as my doctor had feared. I won’t need surgery, and I can even get off the physical therapy.
Nevertheless, I do have a slight stress fracture in my fibula, whose breaking is really just a family rite of passage (my mom and my brother have both had summertime breakings of the same bone). I am happy to report that not only has my flu mostly gone away—the cough remains—but I am now allowed to walk and yoga, and then ease into some jogging in about two weeks. I'm eager to hit the walking sidewalks and yoga mat this weekend!
All of these steps, of course, may be taken only if no pain occurs. The doctor believes I may be experiencing tendonitis, so the ibuprofen continues.
So, family, blog and real-world friends are awesome. Congrats to all of the killer runs everyone has had, and many thanks to everyone for their support. It stinks to be injured, but it’s uplifting to know that people care. And it makes me want to run—without harming myself—so much more!
But on the news front: Neil and I might be moving soon. No solid details yet, but we will likely be heading north. And I’m eager to scope out some good running neighborhoods and the prospect of bear-free trails.
Nevertheless, I do have a slight stress fracture in my fibula, whose breaking is really just a family rite of passage (my mom and my brother have both had summertime breakings of the same bone). I am happy to report that not only has my flu mostly gone away—the cough remains—but I am now allowed to walk and yoga, and then ease into some jogging in about two weeks. I'm eager to hit the walking sidewalks and yoga mat this weekend!
All of these steps, of course, may be taken only if no pain occurs. The doctor believes I may be experiencing tendonitis, so the ibuprofen continues.
So, family, blog and real-world friends are awesome. Congrats to all of the killer runs everyone has had, and many thanks to everyone for their support. It stinks to be injured, but it’s uplifting to know that people care. And it makes me want to run—without harming myself—so much more!
But on the news front: Neil and I might be moving soon. No solid details yet, but we will likely be heading north. And I’m eager to scope out some good running neighborhoods and the prospect of bear-free trails.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Flip flops and ice cubes
It’s finally here: my “taper” week (it’s a “taper” week because I don’t think my training is quite to the level—neither the highs nor the lows—to truly warrant being called a true taper… ahh, semantics)! Several weeks ago I was thinking that I wanted my taper week more than I wanted a vacation. And I’m not sorry.
But before I made it to this week, there was some hard running involved, such as my Saturday and Sunday runs. I’ve been adhering to my strict schedule of stretch-ice-stretch for my calf and I nixed all interval training last week. For once I was listening to my body. At least partially listening. And by Sunday I had incorporated pill-popping into the mix (OK, I took two anti-inflams and it was fab) and all was well.
On Saturday I completed a 6-mile round-the-neighborhood run. While it started with my slow-as-torture jog to warm up my calf (maybe 11-13:00/mile), the calf warmed up and the pain all but vanished after 2.5-3 miles. I had plenty of thoughts running through my brain—running and life related—that distracted me from the ouches, but then it actually dissipated. Mostly. I would get the occasional pang, tweak or yowzaas, but nothing stuck around too long.
After the first three miles, I thought about making up the intervals I skipped last Tuesday. Running guilt gets me every time! I had been thinking about that workout all week, and had hoped to finagle some intervals into my painful existence. Thankfully, I’ve actually learned something over the past several weeks about pushing myself too hard.
OK, I’m lying. I haven’t learned anything. It just hurt to run fast. Sigh.
But I was able to keep up a 9-9:30/mile pace for the last three miles without any discomfort. At least I can make the minimum pace, I thought.
Sunday, however, would be the true test.
Aside from seeing Skippy (whose prognosis has improved and whose skippiness peaked when he saw Neil “Dogman” B.) and spending quality family time, one of my favorite parts of spending a weekend in Euclid is running. If only I had known that during my 22 years there!
I woke up early Sunday morning and rounded the north-of-boulevard (NOB) blocks from East 219th Street to East 185th and back for a 12-mile roundtrip run. The only drawback: it was almost all flat. The largest grades were the wheelchair-accessible sidewalks and maybe a few dips in the road (in case you’re not familiar with the Akron Half route, it’s pretty bleepin’ hilly… to me).
On the bright side for this injured runner, there’s great novelty to finding a single roundtrip route that measures twelve miles in totally distance, but whose farthest point reaches only 1.5 miles from your mom’s house. I’ve had some distance anxiety the past several months, fearing that my knee, hip, back, ankle, body might give out when I’m dozens of miles from home. And while my calf was feeling OK yesterday, I had the reassurance that I should an injury trip me up, I could easily hop on one foot to safety. Either that or catch the bus.
This run started with my slow jog too, but the anti-inflams made it a cautious slow jog rather than a painful one. I trotted gingerly down one street before I grew more comfortable with my close-to-pain-free calf warming up. And after about ¾ -1 mile I was running at about 75-80 percent energy/flexibility/comfort.
My legs really loosened up after the second mile, so I picked up my pace to 9:30/mile and kept it there for the duration. It was a wholly uneventful run in itself, but it was entertaining to troll the old neighborhoods and check out some houses. Plus, it couldn’t have been a more glorious morning.
The only downside to a beautiful Sunday morning run was my rumbling belly. Everywhere I ran it smelled like someone was cooking something hearty and filling and warm. The open-house houses were baking apple pies, one church smelled like fried chicken and another like muffins.
About one hour into the run I was fighting off more drool than sweat, and I should admit now that this 12-mile run was supposed to be a 13-miler. Sigh. I admit it. I misjudged my distance (I was supposed to take another two streets past my mom’s street) and bolted up the driveway for some cream of wheat. Mmm. But I’ve totally convinced myself by now that my body needed the extra rest and the extra yums.
I didn’t have much downtime when I arrived, however: I showered and suited up for the Indians game. Twelve miles and the AL Central clincher? Doesn’t get better. Well, it could. But we don’t need to talk about the Browns.
And now I can rest. It’s two easy miles on Tuesday and likewise on Thursday. I’m looking forward to some stretch-ice-stretch-ice-eat action this week. I’ve even taken to wearing flip flops and all flat shoes this week to keep the stress off my lower legs. My calf claims that it will be ready for Saturday’s race. And my fingers are crossed.
But before I made it to this week, there was some hard running involved, such as my Saturday and Sunday runs. I’ve been adhering to my strict schedule of stretch-ice-stretch for my calf and I nixed all interval training last week. For once I was listening to my body. At least partially listening. And by Sunday I had incorporated pill-popping into the mix (OK, I took two anti-inflams and it was fab) and all was well.
On Saturday I completed a 6-mile round-the-neighborhood run. While it started with my slow-as-torture jog to warm up my calf (maybe 11-13:00/mile), the calf warmed up and the pain all but vanished after 2.5-3 miles. I had plenty of thoughts running through my brain—running and life related—that distracted me from the ouches, but then it actually dissipated. Mostly. I would get the occasional pang, tweak or yowzaas, but nothing stuck around too long.
After the first three miles, I thought about making up the intervals I skipped last Tuesday. Running guilt gets me every time! I had been thinking about that workout all week, and had hoped to finagle some intervals into my painful existence. Thankfully, I’ve actually learned something over the past several weeks about pushing myself too hard.
OK, I’m lying. I haven’t learned anything. It just hurt to run fast. Sigh.
But I was able to keep up a 9-9:30/mile pace for the last three miles without any discomfort. At least I can make the minimum pace, I thought.
Sunday, however, would be the true test.
Aside from seeing Skippy (whose prognosis has improved and whose skippiness peaked when he saw Neil “Dogman” B.) and spending quality family time, one of my favorite parts of spending a weekend in Euclid is running. If only I had known that during my 22 years there!
I woke up early Sunday morning and rounded the north-of-boulevard (NOB) blocks from East 219th Street to East 185th and back for a 12-mile roundtrip run. The only drawback: it was almost all flat. The largest grades were the wheelchair-accessible sidewalks and maybe a few dips in the road (in case you’re not familiar with the Akron Half route, it’s pretty bleepin’ hilly… to me).
On the bright side for this injured runner, there’s great novelty to finding a single roundtrip route that measures twelve miles in totally distance, but whose farthest point reaches only 1.5 miles from your mom’s house. I’ve had some distance anxiety the past several months, fearing that my knee, hip, back, ankle, body might give out when I’m dozens of miles from home. And while my calf was feeling OK yesterday, I had the reassurance that I should an injury trip me up, I could easily hop on one foot to safety. Either that or catch the bus.
This run started with my slow jog too, but the anti-inflams made it a cautious slow jog rather than a painful one. I trotted gingerly down one street before I grew more comfortable with my close-to-pain-free calf warming up. And after about ¾ -1 mile I was running at about 75-80 percent energy/flexibility/comfort.
My legs really loosened up after the second mile, so I picked up my pace to 9:30/mile and kept it there for the duration. It was a wholly uneventful run in itself, but it was entertaining to troll the old neighborhoods and check out some houses. Plus, it couldn’t have been a more glorious morning.
The only downside to a beautiful Sunday morning run was my rumbling belly. Everywhere I ran it smelled like someone was cooking something hearty and filling and warm. The open-house houses were baking apple pies, one church smelled like fried chicken and another like muffins.
About one hour into the run I was fighting off more drool than sweat, and I should admit now that this 12-mile run was supposed to be a 13-miler. Sigh. I admit it. I misjudged my distance (I was supposed to take another two streets past my mom’s street) and bolted up the driveway for some cream of wheat. Mmm. But I’ve totally convinced myself by now that my body needed the extra rest and the extra yums.
I didn’t have much downtime when I arrived, however: I showered and suited up for the Indians game. Twelve miles and the AL Central clincher? Doesn’t get better. Well, it could. But we don’t need to talk about the Browns.
And now I can rest. It’s two easy miles on Tuesday and likewise on Thursday. I’m looking forward to some stretch-ice-stretch-ice-eat action this week. I’ve even taken to wearing flip flops and all flat shoes this week to keep the stress off my lower legs. My calf claims that it will be ready for Saturday’s race. And my fingers are crossed.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Food (and Rest) it Up!
Last night’s 7-miler concluded my training for the week (I moved Thursday’s run to Wednesday to get an extra day of rest before Saturday’s race… even if it is just a super sprint), so now it’s time to rest and eat. Ahh, two of my preferred activities!
But I have to admit that my brain wasn’t functioning properly again yesterday. I started my after-work run and my watch, stopped it to cross a street and never switched it on again. So, I just set the world record in the 3.5-miler: 2:22. Woo hoo! I realized the error after about a mile and just tried to keep up a 9-9:30/mile pace through the first half of the run. And I think I'm finally getting a mental feel for my pace. In other words, I'm getting a pacing clue!
Since I also forgot to check my workout before I took off, I was lucky to correctly guess my plan: 6-7 miles, including 4 x 2:00 aerobic intervals and 6 gentle pickups.
It was nice to get in some of these higher intensity spurts on rolling hills. I swear if I move from this area one of the few things I’ll miss (other than the cupcake shop) will be the rolling hills. While it’s not as great on miles for my already-fuel-efficient car, it really puts some extra kick into a workout. But it also puts an extra kick into my achy left calf.
I came home from the run around 6:45 p.m., ate dinner and then iced my calf for about 30 minutes. Some non-medical advice I received recommended before/after stretching and after icing… so I’m giving it a try. Plus, I’m getting back to my morning yoga in hopes that the addition stretching might aid some of my achy problems. If nothing else, it’s a nice workout that wakes me up when an alarm just won’t.
And now it’s all about resting (I have my feet kicked up as I type) and eating foods that will power me to the finish on Saturday. As I’ve previously mentioned, I’ve decided not to compete in Sunday’s sprint tri at Portage Lakes. But my half marathon plan calls for 10 miles on Sunday—my first 10-miler since my June 17 injury. I’m coming back, baby (knock on wood)!
But I have to admit that my brain wasn’t functioning properly again yesterday. I started my after-work run and my watch, stopped it to cross a street and never switched it on again. So, I just set the world record in the 3.5-miler: 2:22. Woo hoo! I realized the error after about a mile and just tried to keep up a 9-9:30/mile pace through the first half of the run. And I think I'm finally getting a mental feel for my pace. In other words, I'm getting a pacing clue!
Since I also forgot to check my workout before I took off, I was lucky to correctly guess my plan: 6-7 miles, including 4 x 2:00 aerobic intervals and 6 gentle pickups.
It was nice to get in some of these higher intensity spurts on rolling hills. I swear if I move from this area one of the few things I’ll miss (other than the cupcake shop) will be the rolling hills. While it’s not as great on miles for my already-fuel-efficient car, it really puts some extra kick into a workout. But it also puts an extra kick into my achy left calf.
I came home from the run around 6:45 p.m., ate dinner and then iced my calf for about 30 minutes. Some non-medical advice I received recommended before/after stretching and after icing… so I’m giving it a try. Plus, I’m getting back to my morning yoga in hopes that the addition stretching might aid some of my achy problems. If nothing else, it’s a nice workout that wakes me up when an alarm just won’t.
And now it’s all about resting (I have my feet kicked up as I type) and eating foods that will power me to the finish on Saturday. As I’ve previously mentioned, I’ve decided not to compete in Sunday’s sprint tri at Portage Lakes. But my half marathon plan calls for 10 miles on Sunday—my first 10-miler since my June 17 injury. I’m coming back, baby (knock on wood)!
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Labor Day? Resting Day?
In the spirit of Labor Day, I was a lazy bum on Sunday who ate too much and replaced my 8-miler with family, friends and too-much-food time. Not that it’s a bad thing.
So, I picked up the slack with eight miles on Monday morning. It was a slow 8 miles (10:00/mile for the first two miles, 9:00/mile for the middle four, 9:50 for the last two), but a cool, relaxing morning. Labor Day couldn’t have been more pleasant.
Because I skipped Sunday and replaced my Monday rest with an 8-miler, I botched the day of rest I generally get before my new week begins. Most weeks I would just push through the “pain,” but I couldn’t make it out today. I don’t know whether it’s stress, poor nutrition, bad rest, worse training or a combination.
By the time I mustered up a free spot this afternoon, I felt like I was hit by a Mack truck! My legs are tired and my energy was about 30,000 leagues beneath my typical “too exhausted to do anything but sleep” level. I took a quick cat nap and ate dinner already… but I think I’m going to hit the yoga mat in hopes of finding my energy or just being ready to two-a-day it tomorrow (swimming in the morning, running in the evening). But at least I feel uninjured. Just a little fatigued.
So, I picked up the slack with eight miles on Monday morning. It was a slow 8 miles (10:00/mile for the first two miles, 9:00/mile for the middle four, 9:50 for the last two), but a cool, relaxing morning. Labor Day couldn’t have been more pleasant.
Because I skipped Sunday and replaced my Monday rest with an 8-miler, I botched the day of rest I generally get before my new week begins. Most weeks I would just push through the “pain,” but I couldn’t make it out today. I don’t know whether it’s stress, poor nutrition, bad rest, worse training or a combination.
By the time I mustered up a free spot this afternoon, I felt like I was hit by a Mack truck! My legs are tired and my energy was about 30,000 leagues beneath my typical “too exhausted to do anything but sleep” level. I took a quick cat nap and ate dinner already… but I think I’m going to hit the yoga mat in hopes of finding my energy or just being ready to two-a-day it tomorrow (swimming in the morning, running in the evening). But at least I feel uninjured. Just a little fatigued.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Collecting my Energy for Sunday Morning
My only hardworking task today: eating.
I had butternut squash soup and potato-and-alfredo pizza for lunch and gnocchi with baked plums and sweet potatoes for dinner. Mmm... carbolicious, I tell you. And I can feel all that energy gearing up to be unleashed on Sunday morning.
I took a long, slow walk this evening (another cool night) to stretch out my tight right hamstring for 2.5 miles. It started feeling a little tight in the middle of the day, and I’m hoping that the muscle-warming walk and easy stretching will make it chill out. But the walk and stretching will be the extent of my activities for the next day and a quarter.
In the meantime, I’ll occupy myself with triathlon focus. Because the Greater Cleveland Triathlon will be my first, I’m wholly uncertain of what to expect of the race, the course and myself. And since I don’t know, my time goals are the following loose guesstimations (sans transitions… or with transitions mixed in?):
I had butternut squash soup and potato-and-alfredo pizza for lunch and gnocchi with baked plums and sweet potatoes for dinner. Mmm... carbolicious, I tell you. And I can feel all that energy gearing up to be unleashed on Sunday morning.
I took a long, slow walk this evening (another cool night) to stretch out my tight right hamstring for 2.5 miles. It started feeling a little tight in the middle of the day, and I’m hoping that the muscle-warming walk and easy stretching will make it chill out. But the walk and stretching will be the extent of my activities for the next day and a quarter.
In the meantime, I’ll occupy myself with triathlon focus. Because the Greater Cleveland Triathlon will be my first, I’m wholly uncertain of what to expect of the race, the course and myself. And since I don’t know, my time goals are the following loose guesstimations (sans transitions… or with transitions mixed in?):
- 1/2-mile swim in 30:00
- 12-mile bike in 1:00:00
- 5K/3.1-mile run in 30:00
It may be too much; it may be too little. According to last year’s results, it’s very middle of the road. And I’m all right with that. So, we dive in at 7 a.m. I’d like to be done by 9 a.m.
Now I just need to work on getting some good sleep!
Friday, July 6, 2007
Holding Off and then Being Held Back
Well, I’m going to have to agree with Jen C. about waiting for a fully recovery before I race (Jen, by the way, will be kicking butt in her first Ironman in two weeks from Saturday—good luck, girl!). I think I’m finally realizing the value of good advice.
The next race on my schedule is the Winking Lizard “A Shot in the Dark” 4-Mile Race, which is a strange race to me because it starts at 5:30 p.m. on a Saturday. My hope, however, is that most of the other people in the race will have spent the better half of the day inside Winking Lizard and at the bar. Not because I’m desperate to win the race, but because it seems like it would be entertaining to watch how someone might travel rapidly four miles on foot when they shouldn’t even be driving. Maybe I’m just a goof.
So, on my road to recovery, I’m taking to running every other day or so to give myself proper rest. While Wednesday’s run went really well, I was definitely running with the looming fear of the sciatic pain returning. It didn’t… but the fear was enough to scare me into good-advice submission.
And as part of the resting regiment, I did my morning and evening yoga (should I even mention that anymore if I don’t want to be labeled too fiercely?) and swam 1,800 yards (~1 mile) free straight at lunch.
It was an interesting swim: the back of my cap tore right before I jumped in the water and then the front ripped open as I turned into 1,000 yards. And it was right around 1,200 yards that I was severely regretting those side-swept bangs I cut in spring 2004—and have never quite been able to get rid of—because they were the perfect length to cover both my eyes.
While I found a rhythm of bubble-blowing that would pushing my hair out of my face when I would either take a breath or spot the wall, I still had what was left of my cap fastened to my head with a goggle strap, and the cap shard was filling with water. I had kept it on to contain what it could of my hair (my hair is long… and it wouldn’t be a healthy sight if it were free to float as I swam—in fact, one strand did get lose and wrapped around my left arm twice. Ouch!), but it started tugging at my goggles.
For my last 200 yards, I swam with one goggle lens on my cheek and the other half filled with water, both eyes covered with bangs and my left arm tangle in hair. Pretty gross. Sure, I could have stopped, pulled my hair back, fixed my goggles. But as I was swimming, I realized that conditions in Lake Erie or Portage Lakes probably would be ideal with flailing arms, aggressive attitudes and not a few waves. Besides, do I seem like someone who would let a few strands of hair get in her way? Well, maybe if the hairs are on the back of a black bear.
The next race on my schedule is the Winking Lizard “A Shot in the Dark” 4-Mile Race, which is a strange race to me because it starts at 5:30 p.m. on a Saturday. My hope, however, is that most of the other people in the race will have spent the better half of the day inside Winking Lizard and at the bar. Not because I’m desperate to win the race, but because it seems like it would be entertaining to watch how someone might travel rapidly four miles on foot when they shouldn’t even be driving. Maybe I’m just a goof.
So, on my road to recovery, I’m taking to running every other day or so to give myself proper rest. While Wednesday’s run went really well, I was definitely running with the looming fear of the sciatic pain returning. It didn’t… but the fear was enough to scare me into good-advice submission.
And as part of the resting regiment, I did my morning and evening yoga (should I even mention that anymore if I don’t want to be labeled too fiercely?) and swam 1,800 yards (~1 mile) free straight at lunch.
It was an interesting swim: the back of my cap tore right before I jumped in the water and then the front ripped open as I turned into 1,000 yards. And it was right around 1,200 yards that I was severely regretting those side-swept bangs I cut in spring 2004—and have never quite been able to get rid of—because they were the perfect length to cover both my eyes.
While I found a rhythm of bubble-blowing that would pushing my hair out of my face when I would either take a breath or spot the wall, I still had what was left of my cap fastened to my head with a goggle strap, and the cap shard was filling with water. I had kept it on to contain what it could of my hair (my hair is long… and it wouldn’t be a healthy sight if it were free to float as I swam—in fact, one strand did get lose and wrapped around my left arm twice. Ouch!), but it started tugging at my goggles.
For my last 200 yards, I swam with one goggle lens on my cheek and the other half filled with water, both eyes covered with bangs and my left arm tangle in hair. Pretty gross. Sure, I could have stopped, pulled my hair back, fixed my goggles. But as I was swimming, I realized that conditions in Lake Erie or Portage Lakes probably would be ideal with flailing arms, aggressive attitudes and not a few waves. Besides, do I seem like someone who would let a few strands of hair get in her way? Well, maybe if the hairs are on the back of a black bear.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Happy Eat-the-Fourth-of-July!
In case you were concerned, I did make it home safe and sound on Monday evening. The bike ride was quite pleasant—short of a few extra-long waits on some traffic lights—and incredibly downhill as I had suspected. I’m keeping an eye on the weather forecast to see when the next ride-to-work bonanza can happen again.
I didn’t have anything to report on Tuesday because the only real training (other than some morning yoga, par usual) I did was for a great eating contest. And chances are Joey Chestnut would beat me anyway. Unless, of course, it was cupcake eating.
Life as I’ve known it pretty much resumed on Wednesday, I woke up early and did a couple hours of yoga, meditation and apartment cleaning. And by mid-afternoon, I was feeling pretty healthy on the sciatica front (about bleepin’ time!). So, I headed out for a run. A real run.
But trying to be smart, I started with a brisk walk again for 2.5 miles at 14-15:30/mile pace around my neighborhood. I was keeping my strides long, arms swinging and my left foot firmly planting with each step. The difference from Sunday’s outing was that I didn’t feel any pressure during the walk. And that was nice!
My goal was to cover four miles, and after walking the first two-and-a-half, the next one-and-a-half would be cake. They were. So I kept running.
It was only around the last half mile that I started feeling a little pressure in my lower back and thought it might be a good idea to slow down, cool down and head home. But that was only after I ran 4.05 miles, for a total of 6.55 miles (2.5 miles walking + 4.05 miles running).
The saddest part was plugging in my iPod and seeing that I had fallen to a distant fourth in one of my challenges. I’m 150 miles behind the leader and 50 behind the second-place runner whom I had totally beat three weeks ago. Such is the way of the injury.
But as Landon told me not long ago: the miles I sacrifice now during recovery will only be a fraction of the miles I would lose in the long run if I didn’t let myself heal.
Needless to say (which is, in itself, a funny thing to say), I didn’t run in the July 4 race in North Canton. And I’m still up in the air about Saturday’s 10K in Kent. Only Thursday and Friday will tell.
I didn’t have anything to report on Tuesday because the only real training (other than some morning yoga, par usual) I did was for a great eating contest. And chances are Joey Chestnut would beat me anyway. Unless, of course, it was cupcake eating.Life as I’ve known it pretty much resumed on Wednesday, I woke up early and did a couple hours of yoga, meditation and apartment cleaning. And by mid-afternoon, I was feeling pretty healthy on the sciatica front (about bleepin’ time!). So, I headed out for a run. A real run.
But trying to be smart, I started with a brisk walk again for 2.5 miles at 14-15:30/mile pace around my neighborhood. I was keeping my strides long, arms swinging and my left foot firmly planting with each step. The difference from Sunday’s outing was that I didn’t feel any pressure during the walk. And that was nice!
My goal was to cover four miles, and after walking the first two-and-a-half, the next one-and-a-half would be cake. They were. So I kept running.
It was only around the last half mile that I started feeling a little pressure in my lower back and thought it might be a good idea to slow down, cool down and head home. But that was only after I ran 4.05 miles, for a total of 6.55 miles (2.5 miles walking + 4.05 miles running).
The saddest part was plugging in my iPod and seeing that I had fallen to a distant fourth in one of my challenges. I’m 150 miles behind the leader and 50 behind the second-place runner whom I had totally beat three weeks ago. Such is the way of the injury.
But as Landon told me not long ago: the miles I sacrifice now during recovery will only be a fraction of the miles I would lose in the long run if I didn’t let myself heal.
Needless to say (which is, in itself, a funny thing to say), I didn’t run in the July 4 race in North Canton. And I’m still up in the air about Saturday’s 10K in Kent. Only Thursday and Friday will tell.
Friday, April 27, 2007
One Day Until Race Day
What else can I say: the GU was… gooey. It didn’t taste bad (strawberry banana flavor), but I had a hard time with the gooey texture. What texture I was expecting from a product called GU? But it was such a relief to hear from Salty One that I needed to wash the stuff down with a swig of water because I wasn’t quite getting the sense of hydration and energy boost I had imagined. In fact, I felt a little phlegmy, which is something I try to alleviate when I hydrate…
What I wouldn’t do without guidance from my bloggy buddies!
It was a good test to try the GU during my 4.25-mile run during lunch yesterday, which was at the slow and relaxed pace I’ve been targeting in my workouts lately. My knee had to warm up again before it felt comfortable to run, but there were no ill effects this time—no soreness afterward, no next-morning stiffness, no need to elevate, heat and pray.
My mind has been torn over how to rest before a race, and this week has been a good test. It’s not only inability to sit still sometimes that hampers the resting process, but it has more to do with my mind tricks than anything physical. Last month I read a Q&A bit from Runner’s World in which the expert said one’s body loses a bit of its running fitness after three days off. So, I panicked at the beginning of this week about how to spread out my workouts and how much rest was good for me. I’d like to consider myself a wholly rational person, but when it comes to expert advice I’m a blind follower (when I was in sixth grade a doctor told our class that eating certain kinds of lunch meat depleted your memory capacity, I cut out all lunch meat and haven’t touched the stuff ever since). After being sick earlier this month, however, I did discover that my body didn’t exactly wind down to its pre-running shape in the week or so I took off. Plus, it was reassuring to hear from Ryan that fitness comes with recovery.
See: all I need is to hear it from someone and I believe it. Please don’t take advantage of my running naïveté and try to sell me magic shoes. I’m not into easy solutions, but if you tell me they’re good for me, I just might bite.
Tonight, however, I will be familiar territory: the arena of good food. I’m spending the night at my mom’s house (it’s much closer to the race, plus she has Cream of Wheat) and getting some pasta from Beach Club Bistro. I’ve been looking over the course map for the 10-miler and, being just too familiar with the downtown area, I don’t think it looks that far. Sure, it’s 10 miles… but I guess that sense of familiarity puts things in a condensed perspective. Although it was nice in the St. Malachi race to wonder through the Flats’ back roads and find some good modern architecture.
Nevertheless, today will be a day to chill. Chill and hope that the ever-changing forecast for tomorrow will settle on something like “clouds and some sun later in the day” rather than the “rain possible precisely during your race time” that weather.com is showing right now. But, hey, people have conquered greater things than a few rain showers.
What I wouldn’t do without guidance from my bloggy buddies!
It was a good test to try the GU during my 4.25-mile run during lunch yesterday, which was at the slow and relaxed pace I’ve been targeting in my workouts lately. My knee had to warm up again before it felt comfortable to run, but there were no ill effects this time—no soreness afterward, no next-morning stiffness, no need to elevate, heat and pray.
My mind has been torn over how to rest before a race, and this week has been a good test. It’s not only inability to sit still sometimes that hampers the resting process, but it has more to do with my mind tricks than anything physical. Last month I read a Q&A bit from Runner’s World in which the expert said one’s body loses a bit of its running fitness after three days off. So, I panicked at the beginning of this week about how to spread out my workouts and how much rest was good for me. I’d like to consider myself a wholly rational person, but when it comes to expert advice I’m a blind follower (when I was in sixth grade a doctor told our class that eating certain kinds of lunch meat depleted your memory capacity, I cut out all lunch meat and haven’t touched the stuff ever since). After being sick earlier this month, however, I did discover that my body didn’t exactly wind down to its pre-running shape in the week or so I took off. Plus, it was reassuring to hear from Ryan that fitness comes with recovery.See: all I need is to hear it from someone and I believe it. Please don’t take advantage of my running naïveté and try to sell me magic shoes. I’m not into easy solutions, but if you tell me they’re good for me, I just might bite.
Tonight, however, I will be familiar territory: the arena of good food. I’m spending the night at my mom’s house (it’s much closer to the race, plus she has Cream of Wheat) and getting some pasta from Beach Club Bistro. I’ve been looking over the course map for the 10-miler and, being just too familiar with the downtown area, I don’t think it looks that far. Sure, it’s 10 miles… but I guess that sense of familiarity puts things in a condensed perspective. Although it was nice in the St. Malachi race to wonder through the Flats’ back roads and find some good modern architecture.
Nevertheless, today will be a day to chill. Chill and hope that the ever-changing forecast for tomorrow will settle on something like “clouds and some sun later in the day” rather than the “rain possible precisely during your race time” that weather.com is showing right now. But, hey, people have conquered greater things than a few rain showers.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Finding Rest and, Perhaps, a Treadmill
I’m getting sleepy… very, very sleepy. And as I sip my last cup of chamomile tea, I’m getting almost too enthusiastic about being tired enough to sleep a full night — despite the lousy excuse for a human being I was today.
Yes, I missed swimming again, but this time work got in the way (why am I saying this time?). Then I committed the ultimate sin when I came home: I plopped down on my uber-cozy bed for “just a couple of seconds.” Forty-five minutes later, when Neil came home, I woke up.
You see, when I was skipping lunch to finish a project, I promised myself I would go swimming at the end of the day. And then when I didn’t actually leave early and was driving home along OH-8, I looked longingly at our local bike path (now that has some delicious hills—notice I say “delicious” as I sit on my couch typing and drinking tea before going to bed) and promised myself I would go running this evening. But that nap wiped me out and it was getting dark and I had spent so much time counting excuses that next thing I knew I was just doing some weight training in the middle of my living room as Duke lost to VCU.
Tomorrow I will swim. And perhaps I will run too.
I know that I have sworn off the rec. center track, but I have considered getting a treadmill for my apartment. Initially, the drawbacks were a) carrying it up three flights of stairs when I bought it; b) carrying it down three flights of stairs when I move; and c) disturbing my neighbors. But my downstairs neighbors have recently become so obnoxious that Neil and I thought for a moment that Monday’s 3.6 earthquake was actually our neighbors wrestling again, so that (courtesy) is no longer a concern. We’ve also decided to stay put for one more year, and now I’m really just down to one grand excuse for not making the plunge.
Well, I guess there is one more thing. The big treadmill incident. Or was it an accident? Long story short: I was standing on a treadmill, wondering why it wouldn’t work, when someone decided to plug it into the wall when my attention was somewhere else. The thing zipped on so quickly that I was launched across the room. I imagine that it was far more entertaining for standers-by, but not so much for the person who could no longer stand… by. And I don’t think I’ve been on a treadmill ever since.
Perhaps by next winter I should get over that fear... or memory. While it was nice to get out in the sub-zero temperatures and trudge through the mounds of snow this winter, there are days when I just wouldn’t get out because of the weather. And removing that excuse would be great for my training regiment. It should pay on muggy summer days too. Besides, don’t those things give you some mean hills? I suppose it’s something to keep in mind.
For now, however, I have sleep on the mind. Last night was my first decent sleep in weeks, and I’ve been limiting my tea to all-herbal, all the time (FYI: that tea from Starbucks yesterday was decaf too; I’ve quit the Lipton green from work all together. Now, if I could only quit that whole “work” thing… oop, who said that?). In fact, I’m just polishing off this cup of chamomile and looking forward to some rest.
Yes, I missed swimming again, but this time work got in the way (why am I saying this time?). Then I committed the ultimate sin when I came home: I plopped down on my uber-cozy bed for “just a couple of seconds.” Forty-five minutes later, when Neil came home, I woke up.
You see, when I was skipping lunch to finish a project, I promised myself I would go swimming at the end of the day. And then when I didn’t actually leave early and was driving home along OH-8, I looked longingly at our local bike path (now that has some delicious hills—notice I say “delicious” as I sit on my couch typing and drinking tea before going to bed) and promised myself I would go running this evening. But that nap wiped me out and it was getting dark and I had spent so much time counting excuses that next thing I knew I was just doing some weight training in the middle of my living room as Duke lost to VCU.
Tomorrow I will swim. And perhaps I will run too.
I know that I have sworn off the rec. center track, but I have considered getting a treadmill for my apartment. Initially, the drawbacks were a) carrying it up three flights of stairs when I bought it; b) carrying it down three flights of stairs when I move; and c) disturbing my neighbors. But my downstairs neighbors have recently become so obnoxious that Neil and I thought for a moment that Monday’s 3.6 earthquake was actually our neighbors wrestling again, so that (courtesy) is no longer a concern. We’ve also decided to stay put for one more year, and now I’m really just down to one grand excuse for not making the plunge.
Well, I guess there is one more thing. The big treadmill incident. Or was it an accident? Long story short: I was standing on a treadmill, wondering why it wouldn’t work, when someone decided to plug it into the wall when my attention was somewhere else. The thing zipped on so quickly that I was launched across the room. I imagine that it was far more entertaining for standers-by, but not so much for the person who could no longer stand… by. And I don’t think I’ve been on a treadmill ever since.
Perhaps by next winter I should get over that fear... or memory. While it was nice to get out in the sub-zero temperatures and trudge through the mounds of snow this winter, there are days when I just wouldn’t get out because of the weather. And removing that excuse would be great for my training regiment. It should pay on muggy summer days too. Besides, don’t those things give you some mean hills? I suppose it’s something to keep in mind.
For now, however, I have sleep on the mind. Last night was my first decent sleep in weeks, and I’ve been limiting my tea to all-herbal, all the time (FYI: that tea from Starbucks yesterday was decaf too; I’ve quit the Lipton green from work all together. Now, if I could only quit that whole “work” thing… oop, who said that?). In fact, I’m just polishing off this cup of chamomile and looking forward to some rest.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Sunday, Rainy Sunday
Then there was my day of rest. And rest I did. No weights, no running, no crunches, no swimming. Although I did log into my Nike+ account to synch up my recent runs and complete my resolution for the month of January.I also contributed my 30 miles to the Nike+ celebrity challenges (my miles went to LeBron over Maria and Brutus over that damned Gator). On both accounts I was on the losing side.
For those who asked about my rewarding desserts: I had my Russian tea biscuit; a chocolate island with fudge and vanilla bean anglaise; and various crepes filled with strawberries and bananas, bananas and Nutella, and fresh apricots and raspberry preserves. Not all at the same time. But not too far apart either.
What kind of bike do you ride for a triathlon?
Since I'm still new and casual, I have a red Trek 7300 named LeBron (in honor of a fellow Trek 7300 rider). A friend from school, however, has offered a Nishiki racing bike for my use. I'm completely unfamiliar with my bicycling needs (when I bought my Trek, I walked into Eddy's Bike Shop and said, "I need a bike — a nice bike — that I can ride for fun and use for triathlon training. What do you recommend? Oh, and please don't rip me off.")
Once I check out the Nishiki, I think I will have a better idea about bike differences, but for now I'm relying on Internet resources, like this article from Triathlete Stuff: "What Type of Bike for a Beginner?"There was a really great article out there somewhere about going to your local bike store and riding the most expensive bike to get a feel for the best equipment (and then returning on a day that salesperson was not working to buy a cheaper bike), but I can't find it. I'll let you know when I do.
Tomorrow is another day off of work, so I will likely try to run and swim. I'll also have to establish my next goal so I can begin working toward it. I should probably start thinking about doing some bicycle training as well.
Saturday, January 6, 2007
Saturday: The Day of Rest
Saturdays have typically been a big running day for me (I like to wake Neil up way too early and head out to the rec. center by 8:30 a.m.), but I really enjoyed the training rest today. I did do some work with weights, but I spent the rest of the day having fun.
Among other things, we went to the West Side Market, where I couldn't pass by a couple of Russian tea biscuits that just couldn't stop staring at me. So, I bought them, wrapped them up really well, and stuck them in the freezer for later this month. I had thought about creating some headgear with a stick, on the end of which I would hang the biscuits, but that might be a little too weird. You think?
It's important to rest, so I'm going to get some restful sleep tonight. I'm synching up my iPod right now with my latest music updates, and hope to get kicking with my Nike+iPod stuff tomorrow (finally!).
Among other things, we went to the West Side Market, where I couldn't pass by a couple of Russian tea biscuits that just couldn't stop staring at me. So, I bought them, wrapped them up really well, and stuck them in the freezer for later this month. I had thought about creating some headgear with a stick, on the end of which I would hang the biscuits, but that might be a little too weird. You think?
It's important to rest, so I'm going to get some restful sleep tonight. I'm synching up my iPod right now with my latest music updates, and hope to get kicking with my Nike+iPod stuff tomorrow (finally!).
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