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.