114: Keep on keeping on

Mortality is on my mind. Cheerful, I know. My grandma was 91 when she died not quite two weeks ago. When someone dies unexpectedly, or too young, or tragically, there is a sense of shock that protects us from connecting the passage to ourselves. We think: that might happen to us, but it is unlikely; please, let us be spared--it is a reasonable hope. And we vow to live our lives more fully, every day, to waste no time. But when someone dies at a ripe old age, having lived a full life, and perhaps having suffered years of decline (as my grandma did), there can be no shock, exactly. Instead, we are faced with something quite different. We are faced with the march of time, and we must look around and recognize: we are all marching. Barring the unexpected, too young, tragic death, we will grow old and we, too, will die. There is no avoiding it. There is no prayer nor magical thinking we can invent that will spare us.

I woke during the night last week, after the funeral, with a vivid image in my mind that haunted me: I saw my own lifespan as if it were displayed on a vast conveyor belt that was turning, and behind me were generations of lifespans, gone and forgotten, and ahead was the same. And I saw that my own lifespan was as finite and forgettable as any of these billions of others. There is little comfort to be found in such a vision. We are not equipped to consider life that does not include ourselves. Even when we think about history, we are inclined to make connections, to put events into contexts relevant to our own; we put ourselves into stories; we imagine how we would respond; and we are amazed, in some way, that people of the past experienced living as we do.

And so, I am of sombre mind. It does not suit me, and I would prefer greatly to be of cheerful, energetic, purposeful mind. But instead, I sit with these thoughts. I sit with a present hauntedness of what it means to be mortal. My children are growing and changing apace. My body will change, too. I cannot prevent it from getting older, and, eventually, weaker.

Is this what I'm fighting against, as I go to yoga classes and wake early to run? Am I fighting to keep the body that I have, for as long as possible? Am I fighting against my own mortality?

That sounds suspect. I hope, most emphatically, that this is not what I am doing. That it is not a fight, or a battle, but a daily reminder that I am here, now, that this is my body, now, that I am honouring this living, breathing self, now. That everything I do is an expression of gratitude for the time given to me. Because when all is said and done, all will be said and done. If I have one hope, it is that I say and do with thanks.

107: November Rain

Just wanted to say, after last post's poetical waxing about running in the great outdoors, that sometimes the great outdoors can be really inhospitable. It poured rain all night, but stopped just before 6am, when I met my friend for our weekly run. We were really glad that it wasn't raining, but it was blowing hard, and very chilly. This is my least favourite time of year, and my least favourite month.

I was plenty warm, however, with the addition of a shell on top of my layers of running gear. It did feel like a tougher run than usual, perhaps due to the wind, or perhaps due to a general feeling of under-nourishment. We never eat as well when we travel. And we're spoiled by a homemade, local produce-based diet here at home. The food we eat at home is so very good for us: whole grains, lots of fibre, and the freshness that can't be faked of food that is grown close to home. I always return from travel feeling hungry, even if I've eaten regular meals (which this trip, I did not have the luxury of doing).

I had the same under-nourished sensation at yoga class last night, but I'd forgotten to eat a banana with peanut butter (okay, the banana is not local!) before heading over, and I was just plain hungry by the end of class. This week, I am also writing extra, so my husband is in charge of food, and he doesn't cook like me, not having had all the practice I've had. I should let him practice more often, I suppose. But I'm partial to my own cooking.

Day 106: Treadmill

I've been pleased with the past few weeks' work, exercise-wise. Having committed to exercising four times a week, I've been accomplishing that, though not managing more. Last week, I went to three hot yoga classes and ran only once, but that was what worked, so that's what I did. Running in daylight is difficult to achieve right now at our latitude, as the days shrink. I do run once a week with a friend, before dawn, but if I get up early to exercise by myself, I'm headed to the yoga studio. I'm convinced the cardio work there, in the heat, is equal to the cardio work of a good run, because my fitness level has never been greater.

Yesterday, we were in another country for a funeral, and I was desperate to exercise, having not done anything for several days (and spending time driving, standing with family in over-heated rooms, nibbling cold foods). So I got up early and ran on the treadmill in the hotel's exercise room. I was the only guest there, and I am not familiar with treadmill running, but found it relatively easy to adjust to. Every two "laps" (a blinking icon would progress around a "track" for my viewing pleasure), I would crank the speed by 0.2 mph, till I was going at a reasonable clip: all the way to 6.2 mph. I ran 50-odd minutes, covered 4.5 miles, and enjoyed the work-out. I think it takes less mental energy to run on a treadmill--when I'm running outside, I'm thinking constantly about traffic, or my footing, because I often run in grass. But it's also much less pleasant. The experience of the outdoors is a big part of my running pleasure.

Home again, today, and trying to decide whether I can commit to this afternoon's planned yoga class, or whether I feel too tired to go. (Go, go!). On the whole, the trip did not drain me like previous marathon trips have. I suspect this has something to do with my increased physical fitness. Maybe there is a real connection between physical fitness and mental fitness; though I don't think the two necessarily go together. But for me, being able to trust that my body can get through long days without breaking down gives me confidence that my mind can do the same.

Day 92: Run Mama, Yoga Mama

I should change the title of this blog, at least temporarily. I am not biking, at all, and I am not swimming, at all. Well, I do hop in the pool once a week in my bathing suit to take my two-year-old to swim lessons. But that doesn't come close to counting.

Nevertheless, last week was an excellent week, by any measure. I met my weekly goal: I ran twice and went to two hard hot yoga classes. I missed a third optional run on the weekend due to scheduling difficulties (and will miss this weekend too, due to same). But I saw and felt changes in my body after four consecutive days of exercise: my pants were too big, my belt needs two new notches. Weird. I don't think of myself as needing to lose weight in any way, and I don't think I'm actually losing weight; instead, I'm replacing a bit of fat with more muscle. Yesterday, in yoga class, I was fascinated by my reflection in the mirror (hello, Narcissus), and by the muscular changes apparent in my body.

I am not sure that's a good thing. Or a bad thing, exactly. I hope that I'll love and appreciate my body at every age and every size and every fitness level. But it is satisfying to see the work pay off in appreciable changes to my body. Even though I strongly believe what's on the inside is far more important.

There are changes there, too.

I've been more patient with myself during difficult work-outs. I remember to celebrate what I'm able to do, and to trust my body to tell me what it can and cannot do. When I ran on Monday, I was tired and hungry, and I did not feel great; but I also kept telling myself that I could do it, and that it was okay to run a little more slowly. I also enjoyed thinking about all the food I should have eaten (including my favourite night cheese!), and which would have made the run so much better. It was a good reminder that fuelling my body is critical.

The missing piece right now is sleep. I'm not getting enough. Yesterday, during yoga class, I was near dreamland every time we lay down, even during the brief rests. It's good to be incredibly and instantly relaxed during rest periods; it's not great to find one's mind drifting toward dream the instant the eyes are closed. I went to bed earlier last night, but negated the effect by rising at 5:40am for a run with a friend. Still, I hopped out of bed feeling chirpier and more willing than usual. The run itself felt easy, and my legs and lungs felt strong.

I am sitting at my desk with a strong back and a straight spine, with no pain (thanks to the chiropractic treatments I continue to get), and with hope of indeed completing a triathlon next summer, if that's the direction I choose to go in.

Day 80: Gift

This has been a back-to-normal exercise week. I've run twice, and been to two yoga classes: I've set that amount of exercise as my new hoped-for plan. It feels both do-able and necessary.

Yesterday's yoga class was so good for my soul. I had a long day that included a dentist appointment, seeing the chiro for this shoulder injury, and cooking and caring for kids ... by 4 o'clock when my husband came home early to set me free, I probably would have chewed someone's head off if I couldn't have grabbed my yoga gear and run out the door. Class itself was led by one of my favourite teachers. He encourages a very inward-seeking class, and actively discourages everyone from being competitive or judgemental (with/of ourselves, I mean). By class's end, I realized that I am still very fit, that that week and a half of ill health did not set me back, as far as I can tell, and that, more importantly, I was lying in shavasana is an utterly relaxed and content state of mind and body.

Down in the shower, the thought came to me: somehow, within the triathlon project, I've lost track of the real reason that I continue to exercise. If general fitness is the goal, I'm already there. I was there before the project began. If looking good is the goal, I'm also very happy with how I look, and already was. And if the goal is mental fitness, something hasn't been clicking. Because if the goal is to complete something no matter what, I'm lost from the start. In fact, I spent some of the triathlon project feeling less fit than before, less healthy, less mentally content with myself and my accomplishments.  Less spiritually aware. Less connected to the divine.

The project is not, therefore, dead. The project needs to take a keen look at itself, and reassess. I go to yoga class not to make myself more fit, or to get a step closer to completing a triathlon; I go because it feeds me during and after. Same for running.

Should I harbour no goals? No. That's not what I'm getting at. I just need to know at my core that the goal is a tiny piece of a much larger, richer, deeper, more interesting story. If I get there, good. If not, good. Just being able to move my body, to breathe, and to try is a gift.

Day 75: Back

Ran this morning. Got up and ran. Husband finally home, and it was possible. I ran about 6k, a bit less than usual, but decided not to push too hard, as I haven't run for over a week and a half. And my knees hurt. Tomorrow: new shoes, and a 60-minute yoga class.

As I write this, the last of the runners pass my window--a 10k race I'd intended to run in.

Next year.

Day 73: Sigh

The project has stalled out. It's official.

Several factors have conspired against my regularly training plan, and I have now gone over a week without exercising; nor will I be running in this weekend's 10k event (never signed up for it either; perhaps my heart wasn't in it).

My husband has been working a great deal, even weekends. That means that my only exercise times are over the supper hour, or very early in the morning, or during writing time. I am also sick, and have only enough energy to pull myself through my day-to-day necessities: childcare, laundry, meals, cleanup, kids' activities. And I'm injured. I'm thankful that the treatment seems to be helping a lot already. My left shoulder has been stiff and painful almost since the project started, affecting my mobility, and my sleeping. I couldn't sleep without pain for about six weeks straight, and I think the sleep deprivation caught up in a whammy last week. Lowered immune system. Who knows. In any case, I haven't found time or energy to get out on my own.

It is affecting my mood, and I've definitely been grumpier than usual. I am a happier and more productive woman when I am exercising, and taking that time on my own. I hope that next week's schedule will prove slightly more flexible, that I will feel better, and take any opportunities that come.

Meantime, as the days get shorter and darker, I feel myself turning inward and slowing down. I have a lot of writing work ahead, good hard work. I hope to find my balance again soon between body and mind.

Day 64: Still Good

This week I've gone to two yoga classes, and got up to run this morning, too. I would never get up to run on these dark, wet, cool mornings if it were not for my friend coming to the door at 6am. Every time (she tells me), I say: I almost couldn't get out of bed. And every time, I do. Because I know how good I will feel afterward, and also, I want to talk to her, and that's the only regular time we've found in our busy lives to fit in a long conversation. Can't miss that.

Yoga pulls me in even when I'm not entirely in the mood because it is just such a calming place for me to go. I love the smell of the studio. I love being forced to focus and I love sweating, and moving. It would be impossible not to add that I also love the shape of my body, and how regular practice has changed and strengthened it, and improved my flexibility. Without question, this is a practice I intend to continue for my entire life, if possible.

On the downside, I continue to suffer from pain and stiffness in my neck and shoulder. I don't know why. It doesn't stop me from doing the things I want to do, but I have difficulty turning to glance over my left shoulder. Sometimes I fantasize about a masseuse digging under the shoulder blade and rooting out the tensed muscle. If that's what it is.

I continue to be tired, but it's a fast-paced life. I am trying to grab naps where possible, and make sensible choices about bedtime.

And I feel more fit. Without a doubt. Yesterday's yoga class was 90 minutes, and I pushed myself hard, and discovered that my heart rate and breathing would accelerate during difficult postures, and then fall to normal almost immediately afterward. The recovery period has been greatly shortened. I have more stamina. I am certain I could run longer distances, especially if I were willing to take brief breaks to walk (ie. no more than a minute). Ah, ego.

Day 62: Good

I had such a good run in the chilly rain on Saturday morning. It was not what I felt like doing, so my husband said, well, why don't you just skip it, then? And I said, if I skipped every time I didn't feel like it, I'd never go. Ever. (Not true of yoga class, however, which I actually look forward to attending, most of the time). Anyway. Put on my CBC Radio 3 downloaded podcast, to keep me up to date on the Canadian indie scene, and got a kick out of hearing a piece about my siblings' band, Kidstreet, at about one kilometre in. I ran a few hills, took a route that is approximately 8km. Nearing home, I realized it had been such a happy run. It felt easy. I wasn't pressed for time, or trying to beat a record, or go further than usual, or anything extra. I was just running and enjoying it. At the end of the run, my conclusion was that I am, in fact, in better shape than I was at the beginning of this project.

And that maybe it doesn't matter excessively to me. I just want to stay fit, and enjoy myself while I'm doing it.

Today, I was off to a 60 minute yoga class that felt easy-ish, though the instructor pushed us hard, which I appreciated. I am scheduling in two more yoga classes this week, and two more runs. It feels good to feel good.

Day 59: Small Irony

Remember those swim lessons I was hesitant about doing? Well, the rec centre called to say my class had been cancelled. I felt relieved. Writing work is too important right now, and I'm glad the fates stepped in and decided for me.

This week has been reasonably good for training. I ran Monday morning, as mentioned (about 7km), and Tuesday morning early, with a friend, about 8km. Wednesday, after a particularly hard day of writing and then racing with children to music lessons, I was thrilled to be in a kick-ass 90 minute yoga class, working out all of the day's tension. Cap off the evening with a drink with friends, and my soul was cleared for the day. But yesterday my husband had to work early and late, and there was no possibility of seriously exercising. The walk to and from school had to suffice. I felt pretty restless last night. But not restless enough to rise early this morning to do something about it. I am always so tired by Friday morning. Again, it does not look like I will get any exercise today, other than the dragging-the-kids-around type. We will be skating after school, but it's hardly exercise to push a stroller around with two kids hanging off of it.

Tomorrow, I will have to get up early in order to squeeze in a run. I hope that I have the fortitude to do so.

:::

One more thing ... I am beginning to believe that this is a dead writing project. It has to do with the interior and individual nature of the pursuit. The further I get in the project, the more I see all around me people who are making similar attempts, and who would not be the least bit interested in mine. I think there's a good reason there are so many books with tips on "how-to" [fill in the exercise accomplishment here], and so few memoir-style books on the subject. Because, really, who cares? Who cares to hear that I've run 8km or even 28? As narrative, it does not pull a reader onward. It's a bit like reading a grocery list.

Day 55: Stamina

Today, I'm tired. I took a long nap this afternoon, which is most unlike me (the youngest snuggled beside me watching TV). Why so tired? I had a great week, last week, training-wise; well, in one sense, it was great, and in another, it was not in the least targeted toward the final triathlon goal. I did yoga four times, and ran once; I couldn't run on the weekend due to my husband's work schedule, and I wasn't sorry about that. Instead, I went to a kundalini yoga class and was deeply humbled by the weakness in my thighs, which I'd assumed were made of steel or something. Nope. The effects are still with me. Stairs hurt.

Nevertheless, this morning, after I'd volunteered in my daughter's kindergarten class, I had just enough time to go for a forty-minute run before picking up my youngest from nursery school. Other than the fact that I arrived dripping with sweat, this was a good experiment, and I'm looking forward to repeating the plan on another Monday. But instead of coming home and making good use of the two hours of "quiet time" that we often have after lunch, I slept most of it away.

Why? Why so tired? Because you're training, said a friend on the walk to school. Right. But what's the balance? I was hoping that by becoming stronger, I would gain more stamina, rather than suffer from the effects of training. So maybe I need to figure out what exercise strengthens me without wearing me down. Is there such a thing? I do find that yoga comes close. I would miss running, though. Will I get up early on Wednesday to go swimming, now that the pool's open? I'm not sure. Getting up early ... less and less appealing, the more tired I feel. I'm not sure what would give me the sense of feeling "recovered."

Day 51: Dreams

My dreams last night were unpleasant--not quite bad enough to qualify as nightmares, but definitely not dreams I would seek out again. And they all involved the triathlon project. In my dreams, I was either talking about attempting a triathlon, or preparing to attempt a triathlon, and everyone was doubting my ability to complete it, including me. Not exactly subtle. I don't think I'll need an intepreter to figure out the message of self-doubt. But it was slightly worse than that. I think in the dream I also didn't want to attempt a triathlon, but was going to try anyway.

I continue to wonder whether I've set the bar too high for myself, as I squeeze time to fit in extra runs and yoga classes. Rather than feeling happy with what I'm doing, I feel as if I'm perpetually falling short. That seems essentially self-defeating, if the point is to ... well, what is the point of this project, anyway? At times, I've begun to believe that it's part of my spiritual journey, that by living in my body in such a physically expressive way is one way to express gratitude for the very existence of this body, in this moment in time. I am saying, thank you for letting me do this, right now. Thank you for this moment in time.

Which is why it seems so especially wrong to hear myself saying, not enough, not good enough.

Day 49: Still Here

Did that last post sound like I was giving up? I'm not. I'm just trying to think differently about how to accomplish the goal, little by little, rather than all in one gulp. It's the long haul that interests me, not the short burst of activity; that's my philosophy for most things in life, though there are moments when the burst is worth a lot, too. The moment of inspiration.

I ran on Saturday, all in a hurry and speeding up and looking at my watch (first time wearing a watch), because I was due home to take my daughter to a lesson at a very specific time--and I wanted a shower first. I made it. But I was annoyed with myself for running less than 10k (there wasn't time for more), and for running whatever it ended up being--somewhere between 8 and 9k--in just under 50 minutes. I felt like I should be faster. I didn't give myself a mental break for not having eaten breakfast, or for being exhausted after a long week, or anything. "You're not impressed by my attitude, are you," I said to my husband, after moaning about how I'd fallen short of my morning's goal, and he said, "Go easy on yourself," or something to that effect. Appreciate what you're doing, don't judge yourself so critically.

Something to work on--because I know my self-judgement can spill over into judging others too, and I very much do not want to be that kind of person. I aim to be someone open to differences, generous, and respectful of all effort regardless of results.

Sunday was a day of rest. Yesterday, I went to a 60 minute yoga class, and cleared my mind. Today, I ran 8k with a friend in the very very very dark of pre-dawn that is now 6 o'clock in the morning. We were surprised by a brief but soaking rain storm that hit about halfway through; surprised and refreshed. It's a beautiful day, warmer than it seemed it would be. It is so easy to run while talking. I didn't think about feeling tired or achy. I am both. I am taking a break till tomorrow evening when I plan to go to a 90 minute yoga class. I haven't given up on swim lessons yet, either. I would still like to go, to squeeze it in. At the very least, I will go to the first lesson and see how disruptive it is to my writing day.

Day 45: Sleep and the lack thereof

Ran this morning. Not early. Ran instead for half an hour after the kids had all left the house. It was not a pleasant run, not because my body felt tired or incapable, but because I was filled with impatience, wanting instead to be at home in front of my computer using this time for my real work, which is writing. I have found a publisher for my second book, and it will require a lot of editing and rewriting to bring it to completion; and the only time for that, and for the myriad of other related work that I also much do, is while my children are away. But I could not rise early this morning. I was up every two hours with a child during the night and dragged myeslf out of bed after 7 feeling as though none of us had slept soundly.

Sleep is key to my energetic plans. Without it, I begin to crumble.

Do I still want to attempt a triathlon? I am considering dropping out of swim lessons and trying just to swim laps with what I know, because I can't afford to break up one of my two rare writing days a week for a swim lesson. I need that extended time in order to get any work of real depth completed.

No, I'm not quitting. Just going to re-jig slightly, and focus on slightly different goals. Right now, I would like to be in shape to run a 10km race in about a month. It's do-able, even with more writing work.

Day 43: Good Start, But ...

So, it was a good start to the week, exercise-wise. I rose early on Monday for yoga, then again early yesterday to run with a friend (and if she hadn't  been coming to my door, there is no way I would have gotten up). I always feel terrific after a run. And I felt great on the run too (approximately 8km). Last night I went to a concert where we chanted in Sanskirt for much of the evening. But that doesn't count as exercise; and we got home around 1am, which meant no early rising for me. Sometimes, my focus has to be on surviving rather than improving. But if I'd made it to bed earlier, I would have tried for the early morning yoga class because tonight I will be at my kids' meet-the-teacher night, nowhere near the 90-minute hot yoga class of my plans. Friends are coming over for supper tomorrow, so unless I can get up early tomorrow morning (unlikely, given that it's my girls' night out and I really want to go; again, the question of balance arises--friends or exercise? Um. The choice is obvious to me. Friends!!!!), there will be no exercising tomorrow either. Therefore, rising early on Friday morning is a necessity. Friday evening my mother-in-law is arriving; plus, we pick up food from a local buying club, and the kids have skating after school. So ... Friday evening will never be a good exercise evening. Plus, I don't know about you, but by Friday evening my body is usually this close to complete shut-down. 

Thinking out loud here, but it looks like an early morning yoga class on Friday, and a run on Saturday morning will be in order. Or the other way around. I am considering treating Sunday as a day of rest, not just from the exercise program, but from all of my more major duties--cooking, canning, baking, cleaning. This is starting to feel imperative for my general sanity and lifestyle: one day every week to spend with my family, not doing much of anything.

Day 41: How Much Is Too Much?

Two friends who have trained for half-marathons have recommended signing up for a running club's clinics, and simply following their lead. One friend mentioned that the hill and interval training sessions are quite short, if intense, often no more than half an hour. I am currently running for an hour no matter what I'm doing, and I'm beginning to question whether my joints can take it; and whether perhaps this is an inefficient method of training. Perhaps I should be doing more sprints, less distance. I am seriously considering signing up for their marathon clinic this winter/spring. I would like to run in the Ottawa marathon, which takes place late in May.

I've also decided to schedule in a second yoga class every week, as a way of maintaining and improving flexibility; but the hot yoga I practice is also good for strengthening muscles, and building stamina. At one class a week, I'm just doing maintenance; with two classes, I may see improvement.

The indoor pool is under construction, and there are no longer morning and evening lane swims at the outdoor pool, due to lack of light (boy is it ever dark at 6am these days!). I have signed up for swim lessons which will start in October, but meanwhile, I am not swimming laps. I would like to add one early morning swim into my week once the indoor pool opens again.

So ... two yoga classes, two swims, perhaps two runs? I haven't figured out how to fit cycling into the equation. The distances and speeds necessary to train seem daunting. And I haven't fixed my bike yet, though I have had it checked for size, and it is close to being a good fit--just needs a bit of tinkering, and a new pair of tires put on. I did notice that there's a women-only triathlon in a nearby city next summer. I plan to look into that one.

:::

I woke at 3:30 this morning and told my husband to turn off his alarm. I'd been planning to start this week with an early morning yoga class, since I can't get out this evening due to his soccer game. But at 3:30am, all I could think about was getting more sleep--one extra hour. I said, just turn it off and if my body decides it wants to go, I'll go. In other words, if my interior alarm clock goes off, I'll listen. Wouldn't you know, out of a deep sleep I felt my eyes opening, almost against my will, and I thought to myself, please please please don't let the clock say 5:50. But it did. My body had woken--to the very minute--at the time I'd planned to rise for class. I hesitated for half a minute, then thought about how good I'd feel stretching out my body. So I got up, and did class. Early morning classes aren't ideal because I am always in a rush to leave at the end, knowing what awaits me at home; I was distracted by the slog ahead.
And it was chaos to get everyone out the door on time. There were tears, last minute admonishments--where's your water bottle! don't forget your sunhat!--and then my youngest daughter's bus never arrived at its stop, so instead of seeing her off, waving goodbye, and coming home to a quiet house, we had to run home (we have to walk a block and a half to get to her stop), and I DROVE her to school, which is totally against my principles.

Small potatoes. The house is now quiet. And it is time for me to get to work.

:::

One more thing. With all this extra activity and training and early mornings, on the days when I don't rise early, I feel almost as if I were on holiday, and it makes even the most demanding day appear that much easier. It's all relative.

Day 39: Small Observation

Quiet steady run this morning. Not what I felt like doing, but I went ahead and did it. I ran a slightly different loop, my goal being to run further than 8km, but perhaps not 10, since I felt pretty weak upon heading out. When measured out afterward, my course was 9.3km; not bad. I had energy, so I pushed the last kilometre in about 4 minutes.

Today's observation: just because you feel lousy when you start out doesn't mean you'll feel worse as you go along. I never felt fabulous or strong, but then again, I didn't feel any worse throughout the entire run.

I got some stats from my race. I finished 123 overall, out of 287 participants. I was 36th among the women runners. And my average time per kilometre was 5:38. I can definitely improve on these stats, but I'm pleased with them for a first-time experience. My goal is to run a 5 minute kilometre during a race of this length. Not sure how much my goal might change over a longer course, or how fast I could expect myself to be able to run. It's occurred to me that I may need to buy a watch. I haven't worn one since I was about twelve.

Day 37: I Did It!

I ran the race!

And it was so fun. I had not expected it to be fun. I had expected it to be gruelling and difficult, and it was neither of those things. The last two kilometres were definitely challenging, but that didn't slow me down, I just tucked in and used my mental strength to keep going. I was glad, however, that it was not 10 kilometres. I will have to pace myself differently for the next race. I kept telling myself good things rather than bad things. That helped a lot. So, I reminded myself that I could do this, that I knew how, and that it was possible. My time on the clock was 45 minutes flat, which was approximately what I was aiming for, though I think I could do better. Neighbours who were there said there were a few oddities about the race's organization--for example, we walked nearly 2km to get to the start line, and the start itself was very odd and disorganized and slow because we had to squeeze between a number of barriers, which created something like a bottle-neck of people, over and over again. So it's possible that the clock wasn't an entirely accurate reflection of the time.

My neighbours said they don't do it for the time. Part of me wished I could be like that. I was grateful to them for pacing me during the first kilometre, which allowed me to move ahead feeling very relaxed and warmed up.

I did find my competitive nature coming out during the race, but it didn't seem to emerge in a negative way. I just felt extremely light, extremely contained and focused. And joyful. Early on, we were running along a beautiful trail and we saw a deer standing in the trees only a few feet away. We all exclaimed. It was an unexpectedly moving moment. Most of the run, however, I was too focused on my pace to look around. I was glad that I ran the first kilometre slowly, and that I'd started at the very back of the pack. That way, as the run went on, I could speed up and pass people, which felt like a good mental boost. I was only passed once, toward the very end, and I actually caught back up and passed her at the finish.

It helped to be familiar with the distance, and to know that it was within me to complete.

I noticed many people ran with ipods, but I was glad I'd chosen not to, though I do find that music helps on my regular runs. But I was glad that I'd forced myself to focus without that--it was also easier to hear what was going on around me. I noticed that the ipod people often ran in the middle of the path without any idea that they were blocking others. I hope I wasn't too aggressive in my passing. I tried to be friendly and polite and not crowd anybody. I wonder whether there's etiquette--does one say, "Passing!" or something to that effect, in warning?

One other funny thing happened. I'd just passed a woman in the trail section, when she called out my name. She was someone I'd gone to high school with--in fact, I'm pretty sure we were on the cross country team together. We had a brief shouted conversation under the dark trees, as we hurried forward. She said she hadn't run since high school either.

Oh, and I did walk, but it was not because I felt I needed to. I had to walk because I was following people on the boardwalk section of the trail, and they were walking (and it was slippery); and I had to walk again on the steepest portion of the hill section because the people in front of me were walking, and there was no way to pass. I took that as a little gift, because the hill was tough, there's no doubt, and it probably helped get my wind back for the last two and a half kilometres.

The last kilometre was a challenge, but it felt entirely possible to complete, and I tried to keep up a very strong pace--my goal was to get faster as the run went on, and I'm fairly certain that I achieved it. I had the thought at one point during the last kilometre that I'd like to stop and walk, and then I imagined all of the people I'd passed coming up in a wave and passing me, and that kept me going--see, competitive nature, doing it's thing.

And there were my kids and husband waving near the finish line! That was awesome. I felt like I could run another kilometre after I saw them, easy.

Ahead: more training, more miles underfoot, and a 10km challenge next.

Day 37: Race Day

Ugh. I feel nervous.
My husband is very excited for me. My children, who are all going to come along, are only interested in whether or not I'm going to win. When I assured them that I would not, and that it was not the point of the race for me, they were baffled. My eldest daughter advised me "not to run too fast at the start." My eldest son simply could not understand why I would be running in a race that I knew I could not win. This seems an interesting lesson in effort and reward. We are always looking for ways to express the mysterious power of the interior reward, versus the obvious lure of the exterior reward. Maybe this will be an illustration of why one would want to do something without apparent reward.
Why would one want to do something that is hard if there is no apparent reward at the other end?
Ah ...
I will remind myself of my goals while running this race: to finish, and to finish without walking.

Day 35: Early Bird

I love everything about running first thing in the morning. Everything except the time on the clock: 5:40. I love the silent house, the slow feeling of waking, the cragginess, half-asleep and eating a banana. I love heading out for a run in the quiet darkness--better if it's with a friend, though. I am not comfortable running alone through the park in the dark. Good thing I have a friend to meet. With conversation, the run goes quickly--almost too quickly--and before I know it, I'm home again, my body is awake, my mind too, bursting with energy. It's not even 7 o'clock. I shower, get a load of laundry in, start breakfast prep, run upstairs to talk to my husband and wake him up, a whirl of enthusiasm and positivity. Can't help it. It's the endorphins. Now, by mid-afternoon I will be flagging and desperate for a ten minute nap. Perhaps I will even get to take one.

Today is the first day of school. The first day of the fall routine. Such a good start to this day.

This is the year that I will discover what it's like to have childcare more frequently. How will I divide my hours?

In two days, I will run in my first race since high school. Excitement gone, dread creeping in. I am dreading finding parking, figuring out where to go, trying to eat and rest the correct amount in advance of the run, using the bathroom, do I go alone or drag the family, too, can I let myself run super-slow and finish the race for sure, or will I push hard to try my best and potentially fail and have to stop to walk? We ran slowly this morning. In fact, we ran slightly less than 8k in the time I've been running close to 10k. It was so pleasant and I felt so strong. But I sense that my race self will be pushing for that faster time, pushing to test the limits, pushing pushing pushing. It could be painful. I am the sort of high achiever who is never satisfied with the best that I've got--instead, as I steadily improve, I see potential for better and better. This can be very discouraging. It occurred to me on yesterday's run--which was hard--that I am running further and faster than I have ever in my life run ... but I feel wimpy and weak because I'm measuring myself on a different scale--not comparing myself to a past self, or recognizing my own improvement. Instead, I'm projecting into the future, measuring myself against what I believe I should be able to accomplish. How can I complete a triathlon, if this is the best that I've got?

Is this mental outlook helpful, or does it harm my progress? It's gotten me this far, and I am not a quitter, so I may simply have to accept that I am motivated by the idea that I could always achieve more. I may never be completely satisfied with what I've done, but I also appreciate it. I just don't want to stop and rest. Life is so very very short. Every day, every hour, it feels so valuable, so worthy of recognition and appreciation--and of use. This time is what I have.

Day 34: Morning Slog

More hills in the run this morning, and though I recovered my breath, after the fourth and longest hill, I noticed my energy was significantly drained. Music got me through, and toward the end, when even music couldn't distract me from my body's weariness, I got myself through by repeating, "Disappeared," over and over again. That probably sounds weird. I needed to get my mind to disappear, to stop noticing my physical distress. I am worried about the race. I only ran 8k today, and it felt so tough, and I didn't even have the added mental pressure of being surrounded by other people running faster than me.

Plan to run early and slow tomorrow morning, then not run again till Thursday evening, race-time. Will try to swim or do a yoga class in between instead.

Day 32: Signing Up

Well, I've discovered one good thing about signing up to run in races ... when I woke this morning, after a late night last night, the only thing that got me out of bed and into my running shoes was the thought that I am running in an 8km trail race THIS THURSDAY, and that I hadn't exercised for the past two days (not even a bike ride to swim lessons, since it rained one day, and yesterday we squeezed swim lessons in amongst a variety of other outings that required using a vehicle). Today, I listened to music, which really seems to enhance my ability to let go and get into the calm, breathing zone. So instead of going 8k, as originally planned, I headed on for the full 10k loop, and discovered that I got faster rather than slower. I'm not sure I could have kept the final pace up much longer, but it got me home, and in under an hour. It was not the struggle that Tuesday's run was, rather I felt like I had enough energy to fuel me, and I felt very calm and contained. (Here's one extra thought: why do I feel like my good runs are sort of not that useful to me--too easy, too pleasant--and my hard runs are more meaningful in terms of building up my character and teaching me lessons in how to cope with challenges? What does this say about my personality?).

Now. How to prepare for a race? My expectations are very very low. I would like to finish the race, and not stop to walk. I would also like to discover what it does to me mentally--what new challenges arise running with other people in a (sort of) competitive environment.

Day 31: Nothing Doing

I've done nothing toward the triathlon project since Wednesday morning. Wednesday evening I went out with girlfriends, meaning that yesterday morning I was not in the mood to rise early and exercise, and I'd arranged a double sleepover for my older kids yesterday evening, meaning I would have had to abandon my husband to a house filled with seven children in order to get to yoga class (no, I did not!); and then a friend hosted a last-minute get-together, one of the last possible before we're all back in school, at work, and otherwise occupied and less free to spend a summer evening together. Meaning I did not rise early and exercise this morning either.

I did can one 1/2 bushel of tomatoes yesterday morning; and I did attend a funeral for my dad's good friend yesterday afternoon; but I didn't squeeze in any exercise. I'm kind of okay with that.

Day 29: One More Breath

Enjoyed a few profound thoughts on my run last night, which was an effort to complete, and I only went 9.5 km, dropping the last loop in the park that would have brought it to 10. My thought was: I'd like to get home alive. It was a hard run, hotter in the evening heat than I'm used to, and I had to use meditative techniques to distract my mind from the discomfort, and to try to keep my gaze down, since I tend to scrunch my shoulders and look up in all physical activities (grrrr ... this is causing serious neck and back pain right now).

My thought du jour was this: every run, every swim, every yoga class, every bike ride is its own little journey, a miniature version of the struggles we go through every day and over the sweep of a lifetime, and that is why it is hard to keep a regular exercise schedule going--hard because it requires mental fitness and toughness, but also exciting, because it is a safe struggle, different each time, with a (reasonably) predictable end: you will get home. But it takes a certain amount of mental fortitude to push through the hardest parts of the journey, it takes genuine strength and courage to keep putting one foot in front of the other when the idea pops into your head that it would be easier to stop--that you want to stop, that you need to stop, that you'd like to quit. I was thinking that people who succeed, who finish projects, who accomplish goals are not people who find the task easy, or people who are naturally gifted or skilled; rather, they are people who understand that the desire to stop/quit isn't the same thing as actually needing to stop/quit. Just because you feel down in a moment doesn't mean the next moment you won't find the strength to go on just a little bit further. Also, you must not conceive of your goal as this mammoth task to be accomplished all in one go--that's impossible and not how it works in real life. You get through mammoth tasks the same way you get through anything that's difficult--bit by bit, step by step, breath by breath. That's really all you need to have in your mind as you're heading forward: the next breath.

What helped during the run yesterday was to count my breaths (for a little while, till I noticed that I was counting them as "two hundred thirty-twelve, two hundred thirty-thirteen"; what's wrong with this number?, my brain asked in its stupor). I also thought about the privilege of getting to breathe that particular breath in time, to be right there physically able to do this task, however hard.

I'm not sure that practicing things that are difficult actually make the next difficult thing any easier to get through. But it does teach your mind to think differently about difficulty. To seize it as a challenge rather than be crushed beneath it. I write in the same way as I run: with patience, daily effort, and a long long view.

This morning, I got up early and swam with a friend. It's hot, and I was grateful for the cool water of the pool. It took me at least half an hour, perhaps a bit more, but I swam 1000 metres, or 1 kilometre!!! The stroke felt simpler by the end of the session, stroke and breath and rhythm. I think I will sign up for the stroke enhancement swim class rather than the beginner swim class. I'm getting more comfortable with goggles and eyes open underwater, too. That's going to be my exercise for the day, along with the bike rides to and from the pool (two in one day, which will add up to a rather paltry 8km). Tonight, I'm going out with friends for a drink. Balance. It's all about finding the balance. Life is to be enjoyed. I am not an ascetic.

Day 27: Good

What a difference a day makes. I woke this morning feeling tired and achy and asking: why am I doing this? And as the day nears its end, I feel a renewed appreciation for the opportunity this challenge affords me: to build stamina. Today was a marathon among days, and never did I lose patience with the kids or say or do anything that I regret. I was very much present and the hours flew by, and I did not feel resentful or frazzled (for the most part) though there were frazzlements aplenty. The kids had their eye appointments this afternoon, a long and drawn out session that involved many complaints and refusals, and then ran an errand, dashed for ice cream, walked home to grab the laundry off the line and get our bikes, biked 2k to swim lessons, entertained children there, biked home with a small and scary crash along the way (my eldest; he's fine, but his bike is a bit damaged), and raced in the door at home in time to catch my daughter's first session on her new drum kit in the basement, and to eat a banana with peanut butter and bike to yoga class. The ninety minutes flew by, and I felt strong and capable, which I haven't been feeling lately in yoga class. And my back is eased somewhat. And I feel the joy of having a body that can stand up to the challenges of four children and a car-free lifestyle (car-free as much as possible, during the summer). It is a joy to be living in this body, able to care for my children, and enjoy my life. Tonight, that is what I see as the main purpose of the challenge, and this journey: to build strength, stamina, and courage for my every day.

Day 25: Beautiful Day

It is a beautiful summer's day. Though I didn't much feel like doing it, I went for a run when I woke up. My husband set the kitchen timer because I said I'd be gone for an hour, no more, and he should come looking for me if I wasn't home by then. Today was the first that I've listened to music, and it helped. There were a few moments, when climbing a hill, that I felt too tired to go on, but the second half of the run was smoother than the first, as if I'd become accustomed to the sound of my breath, and to my pace, and I felt stronger at the end than at the beginning. I ran 10k and included hills and ran often in grass.

There's more that I'd like to write about, but my kids are just now home from an afternoon outing (I've been canning tomatoes all this hot day, while my husband took the kids out).

Day 24: Down

Went for an hour bike ride last night, flying up and down hills near where I go running, and even doing an extra lap in the near-dark. A bit stupid without a bike light (couldn't find mine), but I didn't want the ride to end, chugging along like a perfect engine, leg muscles alternately aching/burning and tingling with relief, lungs strong. My bike is a clunker, a heavy old mountain bike frame and knobby tires meant for off-road, but I've always love hacking off-road, and would do it again in an instant. If my bones were made of iron. What I recognized yesterday was that I am afraid of getting hurt. I used not to be. But there is too much at stake now. If I were to get hurt in a bike accident, my whole family would suffer greatly.

But it's still a lot of fun, even on smooth pavement. I could sense myself holding back as I got going faster and faster.

This morning I set the alarm and expected to get up to go to yoga class, since I felt stiff through the night. But then I just couldn't. Today is a busy day, with evening plans (with husband) and taking all four kids to the dr's office this morning. I couldn't face attempting those things with decreased energy. I always feel energized immediately after rising early and exercising; but the day's total energy is limited. I feel bummed about letting myself down re today's hour or exercise .... maybe a yoga session with the kids later on this morning??

Day 23: What Does It Mean To Be Fit?

Some thoughts, and questions, as I head forward. Last night's yoga class (90 minutes) was tough, but also eased my sore muscles to some degree. I've been icing my back regularly, too, with my husband's help. Today is better. I hope to swim tonight, practice blowing bubbles, kicking with a flutterboard, and possibly swimming a lap or two if my muscles can hack it. 8pm in an outdoor pool, on a cool Canadian August evening!

Question 1: What does it mean to be fit? Is it about being healthy? Having stamina and endurance? Is it a fairly recent cultural construct, or does it have its roots in some deeper pursuit? What has fitness meant in an historical context? What does it mean to me, personally? Am I fit if I can run 9k and do a 90 minutes yoga class on the same day, but don't have the energy to pick up my kids and carry them to bed, or organize a picnic in the park? (No, is my gut response).

Question 2: Do I need a goal in order to exercise daily? In other words, is the goal--this future attempt that I will make--more critical to my motivation than the daily routine of exercise itself? I hope not. I want everything that I am doing to be worthy and worthwhile in and of itself, so that an early morning run is not just a step toward completing a larger goal, but is a peaceful moment in time, a time of quiet reflection, or of solitary thought, or of getting to know the limitations of my body and respecting my body during this brief moment in time (the hour or so that I am running).

It has occurred to me that this pursuit focuses largely on my body ... on its day-to-day capacity, its aches and pains, its limitations and strengths. I am wondering why I feel the urge to focus on my body. Is it vanity? Occasionally, I suspect that it is; but it can't be just that, because I am already pleased and satisfied with the way my body looks. And because so much of what I'm doing in training has the opposite effect: makes me look silly or red-faced or damp or bedraggled or in many ways not in the least attractive. And I don't honestly care.

But I do care about my body. I want to be healthy. I want to be connected to it. I want to understand and have compassion for my body. What I'm figuring out (the hard way) is that my body has intrinsic limitations that have nothing to do with what my mind would have it do or become. My body will protest if pushed too hard, too fast. My body will break down. Having the desire to do something is not the same thing as having the ability to follow through. So. What do I want to do? I want to complete a triathlon. I don't believe it is an unreasonable goal, or an impossible goal. But I can also see that it won't be completed in quite the way I had imagined, by me pushing myself through twice daily work-outs. I will have to work around a daily work-out that responds to where I'm at physically (and mentally). Yesterday, yoga fit perfectly with my body's needs and pain. Today, I hope swimming will feel playful rather than difficult.

A lot of my contentment, my sense of failure or achievement, has to do with whether or not I've met my own expectations. I need to spread my expectations out over a long haul, rather than feeling impatient. I have time. I need to give myself time to grow and figure this out gently and compassionately. I do not know why it is so much harder for me to be compassionate with myself than with others.

Day 22: Reality Bites

Stiff, sore, unable to turn my head without wincing. Instead of waking up early this morning to run/bike/swim/yoga, I slept till after 7 and then lay in bed with an icepack on my upper spine. Guess I overdid it. And I'm beginning to understand that my physical limitations are not entirely to do with my effort and drive: they are intrinsic and a part of me, and fluctuate from day to day, and I need to become more attuned to my body's capacity and ability; it will find ways to protest when I force it to do more than it can manage. My body can't seem to manage two exercise sessions every day, which was my initial plan. One will have to be enough. And I think that it will be, and that I will appreciate the variety from day to day.

Race day is a different day altogether, when one asks the body to work to its extremes. Training days can't be like that.

And I want to be more healthy, not less.

This is what I wrote to a friend yesterday, reflecting on how my mind was perceiving the aches and pains and the necessity of changing my training plan: "Here's a funny thing: I ran 9k this morning, baked a batch of bread, got four loads of laundry on and off the line, wrote an interesting blog post, looked after the kids all day, fed them several homemade meals, directed them toward crafts and creative enterprises at various points in the day, toileted the youngest (an endless chore), arranged several necessary appointments, and still felt a sense of failure for not making it to the 90-minute evening yoga class. I think I have some inner spirit work to work do ..."

Day 21: Aches

Made it 9k this morning, and even managed to meet my friend partway (the timing worked perfectly, which means we very nearly missed each other). I ran for a few minutes shy of an hour. My calves are aching more than usual, which might be a good thing since I'm trying to run on my toes and not hurt my knees; however, my knees were both hurting by the end. And when I finished the run and walked through the door feeling amazing (best feeling ever), that lasted about a minute, and then the muscles between my shoulder blades started yelling. My guess, after consulting my kin husband, is that the back muscles used in swimming are fairly similar to those used in running--or similar enough that a couple of longish swims combined with a longish run equals some serious aches.

This just means that I need to get to yoga class tonight. Have not decided whether to take the longer class or the shorter one, which starts later and gets me to bed a little on the late side. Meantime, I've eaten a banana with peanut butter and plan to eat well at lunch, too. Oh, and a short nap. My kids love when I nap. We call it "quiet time," and it translates as "video games and television."

Day 20: Lake Swimmer

I can swim.

Yes, it's true. I spent the weekend at a cottage on a beautiful lake, and I learned how to swim. My dad was there, and he actually taught me, and he's a good swimmer; it's likely he could have taught me years ago if I had wanted to learn. He took a look at my "front crawl" and said, as kindly as possible, "I don't think you're doing that right." My husband, who also was witness to my early and futile attempts last week has reported that I was thrashing my legs and arms and flailing like crazy. Apparently, I was also arching my back, lifting my head, and turning my entire face to the sky in an attempt to breathe. And all of this motion was wearing me out almost instantly. I could not manage more than a couple of strokes without stopping to pant in exhaustion. I was willing to keep trying, and thought perhaps I could improve my endurance and continue on, but the effort seemed unimaginably difficult.

Turns out, it's easier to swim than I thought. In fact, being relaxed and calm is the first ingredient. Knowing when to breathe--at which point in the stroke--and trusting that you won't be breathing in a lungful of water helps a lot. I'm still no technically skilled swimmer by any stretch of the imagination, but I can climb into cold water in a damp rain (almost too Canadian for me), and crawl by degrees across a stretch of lake from rock to rock, about 200m in length, and then turn around and crawl back again, in deep water, and without fear. I begin my stroke by gliding with my head to the side, to get a sense of how it's supposed to feel, and then I turn my head under the water, blow out air, and begin to swim. When I feel tired, or lose my rhythm, I use the gliding side stroke as a recovery stroke for a few breaths, and then begin again. I have a long long way to go in terms of improving the crawl stroke, and gaining endurance, but it feels entirely possible now, and I am relishing the comfort I feel in water, in a lake specifically. I don't love pools, and have rarely swum in them; that will prove my challenge for this coming fall and winter and spring, as there will be no (unfrozen) lakes available. I hope that lake swimming will translate to lane swimming. I still swim with my eyes closed (one thing at a time). I will need to get comfortable using goggles.

After this success swimming, and the relative ease of it, I wanted to sign up instantly for the last try-a-tri(athlon) of the season, which is in less than two weeks. It would require swimming 350m, biking 10k, and running 2.5k, all of which suddenly sound do-able. Except I've missed the deadline by a hair, and registration is now closed. I do not feel relieved; I feel disappointed. I would have liked to have tried, for the sake of the experience, and to get an instant sense of how very hard (or plausible) this goal of a full triathlon might be. I could still go to the event for the atmosphere. But the triathlon season is closing down; that's it till next summer. I will have to content myself with the runs planned for this fall.

Which means I need to get to bed, so that I can get up and run. I am going to try to run 9k tomorrow morning, and meet up with a friend partway through. Any other friends out there looking to join in the quest?

Day 16: On NOT Always Focusing on the Goal

I am the kind of person who throws myself almost too deeply into projects and goals. If I'm working on a story, I'm gone into it. Just ask my husband. It's like I sink in and you can't get me out. In a sense, it feels like I could do this with the triathlon project, except I can also tell that it won't work for any length of time, and that it would only burn me out. I just enjoyed a beautiful strong yoga class, only 60 minutes, which is shorter than I've gone for months, and it was so worth going. I'm not sure it made me stronger or quicker or gave me endurance, but it stretched out my achy tight running muscles, and even more importantly, it gave me a quiet mind and some peace. I must remember to make room for quietness and for doing things unrelated to the end goal. Which I do all day long, but with some distraction, and I don't want to be distracted from the many other things in life that bring me joy and completion.

A friend sent me a link to Tim Ferriss' talk on learning to swim as a non-swimmer. It had some good tips on body positioning underwater (and the swimmer he shows IS underwater, not riding on the top, which I'll admit gave me the willies. I must begin by getting myself used to being underwater, perhaps even HAPPY underwater). I woke myself up this morning practicing breathing in the water. I tend to take very long controlled breaths in and then out, but in swimming, the breath needs to come in faster than it goes out. And then I got up and went for a run. I used Google Maps to map and measure my daily run, since I generally go around the same paths, and was pleased to discover that I've been running about 8kms. Today I ran nearly 8kms in just over forty minutes, but it was a harder go this morning, and I felt sluggish, not weightless and filled with enthusiasm.

My next running goal is to add an additional kilometre, and work up to 10 by perhaps the week after that, and then add some difficulty with hills and sprints. My plan is to run about 10km for the morning runs, unless I end up improving my pace, and then I'll add on as needed, shooting for approximately an hour of running. On weekends, I may take the opportunity of more available time to go for a long bike ride or a longer run.

Swimming is going to be my main focus this fall, and I hope to swim three times a week. I'm heading out tomorrow early with two friends, swimmers who can watch me flail around in the pool and give me some more tips. One friend would like to join in the try-a-tri quest, which pleases me to no end.

I have talked to my agent as well, and she suggests writing this project as a magazine article or articles, or possibly a blog; she thought that would potentially pay better than a book, though she didn't completely rule out the possibility of a book. But I need to complete the project before pitching the book. After all, if I don't finish a triathlon, the story loses some verve.

My focus right now is the 8km trail run, which will be more difficult than my usual daily run, even though it's the same length, because I run on a very flat and easy path. I remain excited about the challenge, and the immediacy of the challenge.

Day 15: I Don't Know How to Swim

I've always jokingly said that I don't know how to swim. I can keep myself afloat and tread water and can paddle around without fear in deep water. But I just went for my first real swim of this project, and it turns out that it's not at all a joke: I really don't know how to swim.

Swim lessons were not a priority for my parents. My dad taught us some strokes when we would swim in the ocean. There were no indoor pools in the small town where I grew up, and we would swim in the local pool during the summer--which is where I had my only week of swim lessons, at about age seven or eight. I did not pass. Nevertheless, I always felt comfortable in the water and enjoyed fooling around, playing, diving, turning somersaults, swimming like a dolphin under the water.

This morning, just after 7am, I tried to swim. And I realized that short bursts of activity in the water have very little to do with the act of swimming. I also discovered that my limited technical knowledge is completely wrong. And this morning I learned so much--so much that is new!--that it's hard to take it all in and encorporate it.

My goal is to learn the crawl stroke. For this project, I've been relying on help from talented friends. My good friend M, who used to swim competetively, agreed to join me at the pool and give me some tips, without asking any questions (because I'm still not publicly talking about this triathlon idea)--we biked over together early this morning. M is no bullshit, but very very kind (what better teacher could I ask for?). She had me show her my strokes. I can do about eight strokes of the crawl before stopping with a panicked feeling that I am drowning. So, we started with a flutterboard and worked on keeping the face in the water, and then on keeping my face in the water and breathing to the side. Then on the arm positioning, then on the kick. Sometimes with flutterboard, sometimes just me flailing along in the pool, which thank God is shallow, so I could stop and rest. The pool length is 50m. I can't swim a third of it without stopping, and a full length has me breathing heavily and worn out.

And I thought I was relatively fit.

I know this is going to be much harder than anticipated. My goal now is to swim a length without stopping. I need to work on my breathing, my head position while breathing, my gliding, staying on top of the water (planing), using my core strength. My kick needs work too. I could easily pass an hour working on all of these elements. But whether or not I would improve greatly, I just do not know; nor do I know how often I would need to be in the pool practicing these elements before I would learn them well. M thinks I need to get comfortable having my head under the water, and the rest will fall into place. That will simply take time. I am so envious of my children and their familiarity with the pool. This one lesson has also given me enormous sympathy for their struggles and frustrations, my eldest son particularly, who looks ... well, who looks a lot like me when he swims, head bobbing up frantically trying to breathe, stopping in the middle of the pool to stand and rest.

Kid, I get it.

Strangely, I don't feel discouraged. I feel humbled, but not discouraged. And I am immensely glad that I started this project. I've always wished I could swim, but have never done anything to improve my skills. Why not? Why does it take an invented project to kick me into the pool, into doing something I've always wished I could do? That thought makes me a bit sad. What else am I not doing, where are other points of inertia in my life?

:::

My husband works in the rehab industry, and is very interested in the concepts of tolerance and endurance. He says there is no real way to measure endurance and tolerance, because both are different from person to person, and are dependent on outside rewards. For example, if you've been injured on the job and are in rehab recovering, and you are performing a test meant to measure endurance, two people with the same injury will perform differently depending on whether or not they liked their job. If you love your job, you can tolerate more pain and endure longer. You are motivated. If you secretly always wanted to leave your job, your pain tolerance and ability to endure drop.

How much of what we are able to do, these goals we set for ourselves, has to do with reward? I don't mean monetary or even other obvious rewards, but those ephemeral rewards that are personal, quiet within us, perhaps even unknown to us. You could work hard in a job you didn't love if you thought about your family relying on you to continue. You could rewrite a story tens of times over if you felt you must get it just right. You could do these things without any real external or obvious reward--without getting a raise, or without being published--simply because they are connected to something inside of you that matters. Maybe it's the spirit. Maybe what you're doing is feeding the spirit, and that always feels good, even when it's hard or unpleasant or unworldly.

What is my goal? Just to complete a triathlon? I feel it must be something deeper than that, something I can't put into words, and haven't ever expressed out loud. I want to test my limits (like, for example, the limits of my humility; it was a bit embarrassing, if I thought about it too much, gasping my way through the water, clearly an unskilled novice, for all to see; it is hard for me to admit out loud: I don't know how to do this, or, I'm not very good at this, or, even, can you help me out, please? Being able to go to these places has taken years of experience, and I credit particularly focussing on the rearing of my children, a very humbling occupation). I want to dig deep inside of myself. I want to do something hard, but not impossible. I want to see what my body is capable of. I am thirty-five years old, and I don't know how to swim, and I'm going to learn, and I'm going to swim 1500 metres in a race. (Exhale). It isn't easy to say that, not knowing whether or not I can do it. I am not filled with bravado. But if I don't say it, if I don't believe that it's possible, the only certainty is that it will always be impossible, it will always be out of reach.

Day 14: Post-Yoga

Quick note on tonight's 90 minute yoga class, which was downright brutal. I wasn't sure I could stick it out through shavasana. I had to rest for a large portion of the second half, due to extremely uncomfortable tingling and woozy sensations, and plain and simple exhaustion. I think the hour run plus the hour and a half heated work-out was just too much for my body, this early in training. But it was humbling, and humbling is good. It also didn't deter me from wanting to continue. I need to figure out how to better feed and fuel my body. It felt like I ran out of gas halfway through the class. I haven't had supper yet (it's 9pm) and usually don't eat more than a banana before going to the 6pm class. But I also didn't eat enough throughout the day, and wonder whether I should use lunchtime as my main meal, and stock up on calories then.

Tomorrow, I'm doing something I never thought I would do: I'm going to an outdoor pool at 7am to swim with a friend for an hour. Yowza but I loathe cold water. I really can't believe I'm going to do it. I hope the peer pressure will force me to do it. We're going to meet and bike over. I'll get to sleep in a little bit later than this morning, and will get home later, too. My friend is a very very good swimmer, and says she can give me tips on how to improve my stroke. Apparently, I should wear goggles for starters. Will report back later.

Am wondering whether it's a good idea to run every day, or whether I should be alternating days.

Day 14: Early Morning Run

Forgot how amazing it feels to wake up early and exercise. This is the high that makes me want to go on. It is exciting to run while thinking about a goal. So far, I think this project is about commitment. But I hadn't appreciated how important a goal is when making a commitment. Like the goal of marriage--staying married, till death do us part, through sickness and in health, for better or for worse. I can almost understand why my mother wanted to stay married just because. On the other hand, I'm a firm believer in being careful what you commit to. It is possible to ruin one's life by committing to quite the wrong goal. No "just because" here, in this project.

I ran from 6-7, give or take five minutes. I ran by myself, then met up with a friend midway through. I've told her about the project, and she'd like to be my running partner several mornings a week; the catch is that she has to run early, from 6-7. My schedule would allow me to run slightly later (and sleep in longer), from 7-8 instead. But then I would miss this hour, this quiet preparatory hour between exercise and the start of the day's hustle and bustle, hurry and scurry, especially when school starts up again.

I've never stuck with running for very long. Will having a major goal change this? I hope so. I felt fit and capable this morning, strong. I didn't run particularly fast, however. I am glad that I'm not starting from scratch, but have built up a reasonable fitness level having done hot yoga regularly for going on eight months now.

Yesterday evening, we went for a family bike ride to a special spot we know along the creek. As I hauled about 100 lbs of children and picnic, into a nice strong head-wind, uphill, I thought, hey, this might just get me into shape, even at a kids' pace. I couldn't have gone much faster if I'd tried; I was already trying. It was a blissful time together, despite bees and wading children getting soaked. It was just bliss, to be together, to be outside, to be active together.

However, an observation: during the bike ride, and immediately after, as I catch my breath and struggle through a physical activity, I am not a pleasant person. I tend toward barking out orders and commands, and I come down way too hard on others. I don't like what it brings out in me--what is "it" exactly? I was working hard and breathing hard and exerting myself hard, and I had nothing extra in the way of kindness or compassion. I was too focussed on getting through myself. Luckily, I have a quick recovery time, physically, and that means a quick recovery time mentally too. But meantime, I've been a yeller. Hate that.

::::

Here are some answers to yesterday's questions. An Olympic triathlon consists of a 1.5 km swim, a 40 km bike ride, and a 10 km run.

I found adult swim lessons that should suit my level, and will sign up for the fall session as soon as registration opens. I also plan to try out a lane swim as early as tomorrow morning, though that's in an outdoor pool and will be bleeping cold.

My cyclist friend tells me that the bike's fit is the most important element of a good ride. He also says we have many good trails to ride in this area, so I can avoid roads and cars. And that riding a stationary bike in the basement will be soul-sucking, and also doesn't quite equal the same core strength and balance built up when riding a moving bicycle. He recommends looking at cyclocross bikes, and has a contact for used bikes.

On another and related note, I am beginning to see that I will have to spend some money on this project. I will keep my receipts, as I consider this a writing project.

My running friend has advised me to set the goal for my first race as: finish it! I agree. And I've signed up for an 8k trail run on Sept. 9th. There are two more big locals races in October which I also plan to sign up for, both 10k runs. This will give me a chance to test my mental strength (and weakness) and work on competing in a group setting. If competing is the word I'm looking for.

But my knees. They were already hurting on this run, as they usually do when I run. I tried leaning forward and thinking about landing on my toes, but it was hard in the running shoes. I am extremely tempted to invest in a pair of Vibram barefoot shoes (and the little sockies that go with them). Apparently, I'm more into the gear than I thought I would be. But I need to train without injuring myself, which would prevent further training.

I discovered that Canada has one Ironman triathlon. I can't remember off-hand the exact mileage for that one, but it's wild, ends with a marathon. It's run every year at the end of August in Penticton, B.C. I'm seriously thinking of setting that as my end goal. I would also like to run a marathon as a test race, and am considering the Ottawa Marathon, which also has a half-marathon, and family runs as part of a running weekend, every May.

So there. Goals, and enthusiasm.

My biggest fear this morning? That I will like this so much that I won't want to stop. I don't want any one thing to overtake my life. I am a believer in balance. My friend reassured me on this point this morning: your kids will keep you balanced.

She's right. And why be afraid of doing something that brings such joy and energy? This is the high. I'm going to enjoy it. But I promise to record the lows, too.

Day 13: Post-Holiday To-Do List

We went on holiday for a week, and are home again. While on holiday I did not read books on training for a triathlon. I did not run every day; or even once. I did find a hot yoga studio in the nearest city and took class, and it was fairly brutal, a different style from the hot yoga that I practice. It felt like being with a drill sergeant: the instructor stood on a stool at the front of the class and talked non-stop, barking out orders. I was worn out by the end (90 minutes) and found myself having to use calming methods to get myself through: I had chosen to focus on the word "holiday" during the class, and I kept spelling it out over and over, slowly, imagining writing and connecting the letters in capitals and lower-case. (Letters calm me). At one point I thought to myself: this is only a fraction of how hard it will be to complete at triathlon. Not only will I be tested physically, but I won't have a drill sergeant there to force me onwards, which was genuinely helpful. Though I didn't much like the teacher, I did find it useful to hear him say, "At this point in class it's best not to think and just to follow my instructions." I may need that during a race. Can I be my own drill sergeant?

My goal for the holiday was to do one physical activity each day, which I essentially accomplished, if on a very small scale. On afternoon, I practiced swimming with the kids in the catchment basin at Jones' Falls locks, a beautiful deep stone-walled pool. What I discovered is that I can swim--my dad taught me some strokes when I was a kid--but that I dislike strongly having my face in the water. So, I can swim the backstroke quite easily, and my breast stroke is reasonable, though I suspect my whip kick is assymetrical. But as soon as I put my face in the water to do the crawl stroke, things fell apart. There were so many elements to remember, and I could manage perhaps two breaths underwater before panicking and coming up for air--it didn't help that I kept breathing in my long loose wet hair; I also couldn't turn well to the one side. I looked just like my kids look in their swim lessons, pausing to lift their heads straight out of the water and gasp for air--except that my daughter, who is 7 and a half, actually looks way better than me.

I got tips for the two older kids, who have had swim lessons since they were three and four. I was glad to realize that I know more than I thought I did (I'm not a non-swimmer, exactly), but can see that it will take a great deal more work to get me swimming at an even vaguely competitive level. I have a good friend who was a competitive swimmer as a child, so I may start by asking her for advice and help. And I may try a private lesson, too. I think I will attempt to swim once a week, laps, lane-swimming, the crawl stroke (once I've made sure I'm swimming it technically correctly), with goggles and hair tied back. On the to-do list for today: email friend, and look up adult swim lessons,and lane swim times.

We also went for a few hikes, but those were not in the least bit taxing. However, we enjoyed it so much that we would like to make it a weekend ritual--to hike sections of the Bruce Trail with our kids. One of our goals, as parents, is to seamlessly weave outdoor and physical activity into our kids' lives, and our own; however, I find as an active person that doing things at a kid's pace is not enough of a physical challenge to keep me feeling super-fit. For example, we bicycle a lot together. I do haul the two younger kids in the bike stroller, which adds resistance, but I know it's nothing compared to the training that I need to do for a triathlon.

Which leads me to this question, and confession of complete ignorance: how far will I need to swim/cycle/run on a triathlon? Also on my to-do list.

Upon returning home, I contacted a running friend, who competes, to find out whether I could still sign up for a trail race in October. I want to test out my mental strength in a race situation. I suspect that my competitiveness is going to hamper me in a race. It will be difficult to stay within my own limits if my expectations change during a race, from simply completing it (which is really as high an expectation as I should have, especially in the first race), to performing above expectation (which I really need to drop as a goal, till I've tested myself out a bit; who am I kidding??? Talk about an inflated sense of self). Unfortunately, my friend told me that the race was already full; but she suggested trying out one of the road races that go every fall (in fact, they pass right in front of our house; we watch them go by every year). There is a 10k and a 5k, and she plans to run in both. I think that will be a good beginning. Add that to the to-do list.

Cycling. I bicycle a lot, as mentioned, just not very quickly or very far. I am concerned about safety when cycling. I am not comfortable cycling on the road with cars. In car versus bike, car wins every time, and I'm not willing to risk my life on the roads. (I keep remembering the boy in my high school class who died while bicycling, age 15, hit by a truck; and about other road accidents; I don't believe, philosophically, that cars and bikes are meant to share space). Kevin has a friend who cycles competitively, so also on today's to-do list is contacting him for advice on cycling training and equipment. I may look into spin classes, or even cycling in the basement (kijiji for used exercise equipment?). And I need to visit the bicycle shop and find a map of local trails; and change my handlebars.

My goal for today is to figure out a training schedule. This must fit in with the larger family schedule. I will have to get my head around training during writing time, and not thinking of that as a waste of time. Up till now, I've used all babysitting time for writing--and that's been my habit for nine years now--so it may be difficult to change that mind-set. Is it worth it to me to pay for babysitting if I am not working on my chosen vocation during that time?

Which leads me to my final thought for the day. How can I connect this venture to my writing career? Can I write entertainingly and thoughtfullly about training for a triathlon? It feels right now that it is too much about lists of things to do, and not enough about emotions or discoveries or real information presented in an interesting fashion. I am relieved that I decided to keep this blog private, just for me. It gives me more freedom while I explore possibilities.

Last fall, I did something different: I took a university class, with the thought that I might go back to school to pursue a career in midwifery. That class did not lead me in the anticipated direction; though I enjoyed doing something different, and being in school again--a place where I naturally excel--what it showed me (and my family) was not that I wanted to pursue another degree, but that I could take time to pursue something on my own. That may not sound like a huge revelation, but for almost a decade I've been doing nothing but caring for kids, looking after our home, and writing during snatched babysitting hours; and it was a revelation. When class ended in December, I decided to continue taking one evening for myself, and chose to try hot yoga. That blossomed into several evenings (or early mornings) each week, and I discovered my body had changed in the process, and my mind, too. I remembered what it felt like to be strong--stronger perhaps than I've ever been in my life.

I want to test my limits. I want to push against them. I want to see what my body is capable of--and my mind. I am at a cross-roads in my life. Do I continue being a writer, or do I search for a different direction and career? My deadline (invented but not arbitrary) is two years from September, when my youngest child will begin school. Will I know then what I want to do? To be?

The options I am currently imagining for myself include: writer (fiction, but perhaps also non-fiction/memoir/magazine/blog); doula; midwife (four years of school); photographer (technical skills needed); musician (see previous entry); and ... ??

I will miss working with children. I feel so comfortable with them. I sense their comfort with me, a mutual trust and respect. That is something to think about, too.

Is there some way to structure a writing career around learning and doing new things, and then returning home and hacking out a book on the subject? I think I would deeply enjoy that. I have an abiding curiosity. There must be some way to harness and make use of my creative interests. I also have a strong work ethic, and an ability to see projects through; and I try very hard not to commit to anything that I can't complete.

Maybe I should put "talk to my agent" on this to-do list.

Day 2: Questions

I don't like gear. Will this be a problem? I am not that interested in which shoes work best for triathletes, which spandex outfits, which bicycles. I am currently riding my husband's old mountain bike hooked up to our bike stroller, pulling two kids behind.

I am wondering where to practice biking. I would need to know how to bike on the road, right? I am concerned about safety. Will I end up biking indoors, at a gym? I prefer the outdoors. I love cycling off-road, on trails.

I should look into triathlons. I know there are many of different lengths and distances and perhaps even styles--off-road, for example? I should find one to aim toward.

Should I try running shorter races before then?

Should I check books out from the library before we head off on holiday? How will I start training at the cottage? I am afraid of dogs when running rurally.

Feeding and fuelling my body. I already find that it's a difficult equilibrium to find while doing hot yoga. Have I eaten enough? Too much, too close to exercising? Not enough, or too long before exercising? Am I hydrated? Too hydrated and need to pee? I can't imagine myself becoming interested in things like fake foods, bars, etc., to nourish myself. I am a pretty simple person. I like to eat food. Homemade, local, simple food.

My husband wonders whether I will stop having a beer with him at night. I hope not. But one never knows. I would like to stay balanced. Is it possible to train at a higher level, with greater expectations, and stay balanced in terms of eating, social life, parenting, writing? I also don't want to spend much money on this. I want to use what I've already got, and get better.

Day One: The Idea

Tonight in yoga class I felt strong, fit, stable. It was a wonderful feeling, a feeling of digging deep inside my body and working with it, in a very submerged fashion. No worries, no thinking about being somewhere else; my focus for the class was "patience."

Afterward, in the shower, I thought, I'd like to be in the Olympics. But I'm thirty-five years old. Is it too late? Um, yes, endorphins, it is. But then I thought, okay, it's too late to be in the Olympics, but it isn't too late to train my body to do something it's never done before ... like becoming a triathlete. The thought jumped ahead: and it's not too late to write another book, a completely different book from the ones I usually write. This one won't be made up. It won't resemble fiction at all. I'll write about this--this exact idea, and about how I go about doing it. I'll stop saying that I'd like to run a triathlon, and I'll just go ahead and do it. I'll do it and I'll write about the process.

Some little time later, getting dressed, drying my hair with a towel in front of the mirror, I think, this is one of those things that you'd never do if you knew how hard it was going to be.

I am thirty-five, relatively fit and active, but I've never run a race longer than a mile. That was twenty-eight years ago. Another obstacle: I can't swim. I took one week of swim lessons. And failed. That was twenty-seven years ago. My kids swim better than me: I've forced them into the pool in all seasons and against a good deal of grumbling because goshdarnit they are going to know how to swim.

Is it too late for me to learn? Can I swallow my pride and hop into the water and take adult swim lessons? Swim laps, learn to turn my hand the right way, breathe to the side, kick the proper kick?

What else do I need to learn to do in order to complete a triathlon? I know how to run, but my feet get hot after an hour's worth. Do I need to look into special equipment, a special diet, training regimens? Where will I begin? Alone?

I pack up my little idea to take home to my husband. What if ... I write a book about a mother of four who decides to complete a triathlon (okay, I'd really like to write a book about a mother of four who achieves her goal of becoming an Olympic triathlete, but my previous athletic achievements lead me to believe I'd be over-reaching. Somewhat.)

It isn't the only idea that comes to me, as I walk home. I think: I could write a book about anything, but it has to be something that matters to me, something that I care about. Do I care enough about this? Do I have the courage that it might take? Might. Ha.

Sitting down before the computer to brainstorm and write, I can think of nothing but obstacles. The idea sounds ridiculous. I might as well be typing out a bit of fiction.

I check amazon for books on the subject. No memoirs by mothers of four training to be triathletes in the crazy-project-I-did-last-year vein. Lots of books on how-to. I like the one that promises you can train for a triathlon in just four hours a week.

Time. That might prove the biggest obstacle of all. My youngest child is two. What's he going to do while I'm at swim lessons? Am I going to send him to daycare in order to train for a race that I really don't need to run? I imagine getting to the end of the story. I imagine discovering something new and amazing, experiencing pain and suffering (self-inflicted) and arriving at an emotionally salient insight. A big one. Significant. Uh oh. What if the insight is: go back to looking after your family, you ridiculously selfish woman? You were riding a bicycle while your two-year-old turned into a three-year-old, and you missed experiences that cannot be replaced or found again.

I don't know.

My husband thinks it's an awesome idea. Maybe he'd like to join me, and do it too.

Where to begin? Where to begin? I haven't got the faintest idea. I guess I'll begin here.