I went swimming on Friday morning, dancing on Friday night (that counts, right?), and shovelled snow for a good 45 minutes on Saturday. But that was it. I did nothing yesterday, except dishes. We hosted a big party for my husband's birthday, and I was up till nearly 4am. Let's just say I was in poor working condition yesterday. Last night, I fell asleep and slept sound from 9-5:45 when my alarm went off this morning, and I took myself to a hot yoga class to start the week. I'd planned on running tonight, but instead I just signed up for my first spinning class!!! Yikes! Tomorrow morning, very early. My friend T. is taking the class. When I contacted the studio, they said I could try the first class for free, then sign up for more.
I just found a pair of bike shorts, about 100 years old, but they look okay (in my drawer, I mean; they do belong to me). I'm nervous because I've never ridden an exercise bicycle before, and because an hour of intense activity is a lot, and because it's a competetive class (from the sounds of it) taken by lots of triathletes. Like, the real ones, not the wannabes. It will need to be another early night. I am planning four early mornings of exercise this week. It's really the only time I can fit it in.
But my husband misses me.
The month of February is going to be devoted to training, I think. That's my current plan, because my book is done, but my editor isn't ready for it until next month (no, it's not a book about triathlons; maybe that will be my next project). So, I'm going to spend time inside my own head this month, sorting out new projects, working my body, signing up for at least two races--one half-marathon, and one triathlon (sprint, I am now thinking). Maybe. Everytime I go to sign up for a race, I freak right out. I can't quite do it. I guess I'm not quite ready to commit. Maybe I don't entirely believe in my capacity to do either one. It seems so audacious. Presumptuous. Or, maybe I don't want to. Period.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
181: Daily exercise still going ...
I've squeezed in some serious cardio exercise every day this week, too. I hope I won't get down on myself when this streak ends; I need to remind myself that a few days off does not harm my fitness level--at least that hasn't been my experience this past year, when I would often go as long as three days without finding time to exercise. (Any longer than three days, and I did notice a temporary dip in my fitness).
This week, I ran on Monday evening; went to a 90-min hot yoga class on Tuesday evening; ran early on Wednesday morning; went to a 90-min hot yoga class on Thursday evening; and was up early this morning to swim for 50 minutes. I couldn't quite make it an hour. I was too fatigued and my stroke was getting worse and worse (and my technique is not fabulous to begin with). (I really need to take at least one lesson and finesse my stroke. I'm strong, but I don't move through the water very quickly; I know better technique could make my stroke more efficient).
The stretch between Wednesday morning and Thursday evening felt too long to my restless body. I would have run again on Wednesday evening, if I'd had time.
I have signed up for a 30-day hot yoga challenge, which I already know I won't be able to complete. Yoga every day is just impossible with my schedule. But I will try to go about four times each week, and test out the open pass; if I like it, I'll sign up for more unlimited monthly passes; if not, I'll stick with buying a 50-class pass, and go about twice a week, as now.
I'm still wondering whether it's important to complete a race, or, more specifically, an exterior challenge--important to me, I mean. Is the exterior motivation what's getting me out of bed early? Is the extra training healthy, or is it cutting down on my friend and family and husband time in ways that are potentially detrimental to those relationships?
Here's what I'm grateful for this year and right now: I am grateful for a supportive husband. I am grateful for enthusiastic friends. I am grateful that I have time to train and exercise more. I am grateful to my body for being a willing participant in this project.
This week, I ran on Monday evening; went to a 90-min hot yoga class on Tuesday evening; ran early on Wednesday morning; went to a 90-min hot yoga class on Thursday evening; and was up early this morning to swim for 50 minutes. I couldn't quite make it an hour. I was too fatigued and my stroke was getting worse and worse (and my technique is not fabulous to begin with). (I really need to take at least one lesson and finesse my stroke. I'm strong, but I don't move through the water very quickly; I know better technique could make my stroke more efficient).
The stretch between Wednesday morning and Thursday evening felt too long to my restless body. I would have run again on Wednesday evening, if I'd had time.
I have signed up for a 30-day hot yoga challenge, which I already know I won't be able to complete. Yoga every day is just impossible with my schedule. But I will try to go about four times each week, and test out the open pass; if I like it, I'll sign up for more unlimited monthly passes; if not, I'll stick with buying a 50-class pass, and go about twice a week, as now.
I'm still wondering whether it's important to complete a race, or, more specifically, an exterior challenge--important to me, I mean. Is the exterior motivation what's getting me out of bed early? Is the extra training healthy, or is it cutting down on my friend and family and husband time in ways that are potentially detrimental to those relationships?
Here's what I'm grateful for this year and right now: I am grateful for a supportive husband. I am grateful for enthusiastic friends. I am grateful that I have time to train and exercise more. I am grateful to my body for being a willing participant in this project.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Day 178: Still Hard
I seem to think this should get easier, this exercising thing. Why do I keep thinking that? Tonight's yoga class was not easy. I felt challenged. Does it never get easier?
Um, I'm guessing not. Running is easier than it once was, but I run easy. I don't push too hard. I like running long and slow. All I'd have to do is kick it into a higher gear, and I'd be back to suffering again. What does it mean to be fit? Here comes that question again.
I'm slender, but I was slender before I started exercising. I'm more muscular; that's nice. Leaner, perhaps. I can dance longer. But I still feel, fundamentally, weak. I feel mortal. I feel my age in my creaking back and my bones, and I won't be able to carry my five-year-old and two-year-old up the stairs at the same time for a whole lot longer, no matter how many miles I run.
I heard this interview on the radio today that only marginally applies to me: a science writer was talking about the science of weight loss and how the only way to lose weight, really, is to cut out carbs. He said exercise has never been proven to take weight off. It only increases the appetite. I'm leery of this theory, but weight loss isn't my own personal issue, or why I'm choosing to exercise more. Though the theory might be accurate, it is short-sighted. It's like saying that exercising won't help people quit smoking. Not smoking cigarettes is obviously the key to quitting smoking, but what actually motivates someone to get to that point? Wouldn't daily exercise be a key motivator--in either example.
My lifestyle has changed. How could it not benefit a person to be out running at 8pm rather than sitting on the couch with a bag of chips? The better I feel, the more motivated I am to eat well. My cravings for french fries are just about nil. (I'm a big believer in the benefits of soft washed-rind cheeses, however!). My body feels better, and it wants good fuel to feed itself. That's where the scientific theory breaks down. If cutting carbs is the answer, then how to motivate a human being, operating on a myriad of whims, desires, impulses, and social pressures, to cut carbs (or stop smoking cigarettes; or insert unhealthy action here)? How about shifting lifestyle, becoming a person who no longer craves those things, because they've been replaced by the natural high that is adrenalin.
Just a thought. A late-night, worried-about-my-kid-who-is-at-emerg-with-her-dad-waiting-to-get-stitches thought. Plan to run early. Hope I can sleep soundly. But I can't go to bed till she's home.
Um, I'm guessing not. Running is easier than it once was, but I run easy. I don't push too hard. I like running long and slow. All I'd have to do is kick it into a higher gear, and I'd be back to suffering again. What does it mean to be fit? Here comes that question again.
I'm slender, but I was slender before I started exercising. I'm more muscular; that's nice. Leaner, perhaps. I can dance longer. But I still feel, fundamentally, weak. I feel mortal. I feel my age in my creaking back and my bones, and I won't be able to carry my five-year-old and two-year-old up the stairs at the same time for a whole lot longer, no matter how many miles I run.
I heard this interview on the radio today that only marginally applies to me: a science writer was talking about the science of weight loss and how the only way to lose weight, really, is to cut out carbs. He said exercise has never been proven to take weight off. It only increases the appetite. I'm leery of this theory, but weight loss isn't my own personal issue, or why I'm choosing to exercise more. Though the theory might be accurate, it is short-sighted. It's like saying that exercising won't help people quit smoking. Not smoking cigarettes is obviously the key to quitting smoking, but what actually motivates someone to get to that point? Wouldn't daily exercise be a key motivator--in either example.
My lifestyle has changed. How could it not benefit a person to be out running at 8pm rather than sitting on the couch with a bag of chips? The better I feel, the more motivated I am to eat well. My cravings for french fries are just about nil. (I'm a big believer in the benefits of soft washed-rind cheeses, however!). My body feels better, and it wants good fuel to feed itself. That's where the scientific theory breaks down. If cutting carbs is the answer, then how to motivate a human being, operating on a myriad of whims, desires, impulses, and social pressures, to cut carbs (or stop smoking cigarettes; or insert unhealthy action here)? How about shifting lifestyle, becoming a person who no longer craves those things, because they've been replaced by the natural high that is adrenalin.
Just a thought. A late-night, worried-about-my-kid-who-is-at-emerg-with-her-dad-waiting-to-get-stitches thought. Plan to run early. Hope I can sleep soundly. But I can't go to bed till she's home.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Day 177: Nine Days Straight
My body is craving daily exercise, and not just the milder form of pulling kids to school on a sled, which I did last Monday, but a longer, more intense, and more interior version: swimming, running, yoga. And so, I thought I'd try to indulge this restless body. Yesterday I went for a run in -20C (without windchill); my ninth consecutive day of exercising.
What have been the results? Well, I was so tired last night that I couldn't even stay up to chat with my husband. He seems to be missing me. I am rising early several mornings a week in order to squeeze in something every day, because early morning is my only time, on many days. Other days, I have to run fairly late in the evening, in order to squeeze it in. And I'm tired. I'm feeling sleep-deprived. I love rising early, I love the quiet and solitude of the early morning; but unless I start adding in afternoon naps, it just isn't sustainable.
There is so much to balance. I cook and bake all of our meals from scratch; that takes time and planning. I have four children, aged 2-9; enough said. I have my marriage; take it from any long-married couple, a marriage does not flourish when it is left to fend for itself. I have my writing, and a deadline looms. I have friendships; like marriage, those, too, both feed me and require feeding. I have my family of origin, more relationships that need tending. Into this, I am throwing a new ambition: the desire to become so fit than I can complete a triathlon and/or a half-marathon.
At first glance, it seems so incredibly selfish that I wonder at myself for attempting it. But at second and third and fourth glance, I think even my husband would tell you that the training required has changed me for the better, and I don't mean just physically, but emotionally. I now have in my mental-health-toolbox the long run and the yoga class (and, even, the lane-swim). I have easy, convenient, relatively inexpensive means of calming my mind and my body, of finding renewed strength and courage, and of pounding out the grumps, anomie, depression.
Late afternoon, yesterday, a rough day for our family (nothing dramatic, just quietly unhappy), I said, I need a run, and my husband said, go for it. He trusted that I would return home the better for it. It would have been damn near impossible to motivate myself to get out in the extreme cold, but I wasn't doing it so that I could complete a triathlon, I was doing it so that I could feel my self--the good strong core of my self--again. I am grateful that my fitness level has improved enough that this resource is available to me.
And I did feel better; but the run was more challenging in the cold. And by the time the kids went to bed, I craved bed, too. Am I tired because of the run? I wondered. Am I wearing myself out? Is all this exercise good for me? Am I spending my limited energy on exercise rather than on feeding my marriage and my kids?
Not sure. Will I get out for a run tonight? That remains to be seen; but I hope so. And I hope I figure out how to get more sleep, too. As far as I can discover, there is no perfect formula. There is no perfect balance.
What have been the results? Well, I was so tired last night that I couldn't even stay up to chat with my husband. He seems to be missing me. I am rising early several mornings a week in order to squeeze in something every day, because early morning is my only time, on many days. Other days, I have to run fairly late in the evening, in order to squeeze it in. And I'm tired. I'm feeling sleep-deprived. I love rising early, I love the quiet and solitude of the early morning; but unless I start adding in afternoon naps, it just isn't sustainable.
There is so much to balance. I cook and bake all of our meals from scratch; that takes time and planning. I have four children, aged 2-9; enough said. I have my marriage; take it from any long-married couple, a marriage does not flourish when it is left to fend for itself. I have my writing, and a deadline looms. I have friendships; like marriage, those, too, both feed me and require feeding. I have my family of origin, more relationships that need tending. Into this, I am throwing a new ambition: the desire to become so fit than I can complete a triathlon and/or a half-marathon.
At first glance, it seems so incredibly selfish that I wonder at myself for attempting it. But at second and third and fourth glance, I think even my husband would tell you that the training required has changed me for the better, and I don't mean just physically, but emotionally. I now have in my mental-health-toolbox the long run and the yoga class (and, even, the lane-swim). I have easy, convenient, relatively inexpensive means of calming my mind and my body, of finding renewed strength and courage, and of pounding out the grumps, anomie, depression.
Late afternoon, yesterday, a rough day for our family (nothing dramatic, just quietly unhappy), I said, I need a run, and my husband said, go for it. He trusted that I would return home the better for it. It would have been damn near impossible to motivate myself to get out in the extreme cold, but I wasn't doing it so that I could complete a triathlon, I was doing it so that I could feel my self--the good strong core of my self--again. I am grateful that my fitness level has improved enough that this resource is available to me.
And I did feel better; but the run was more challenging in the cold. And by the time the kids went to bed, I craved bed, too. Am I tired because of the run? I wondered. Am I wearing myself out? Is all this exercise good for me? Am I spending my limited energy on exercise rather than on feeding my marriage and my kids?
Not sure. Will I get out for a run tonight? That remains to be seen; but I hope so. And I hope I figure out how to get more sleep, too. As far as I can discover, there is no perfect formula. There is no perfect balance.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Day 174: Pool
Okay, I can add the "swim, mama!" portion of this blog back in again. Yup, I went swimming this morning. The pool had been closed over the holidays and into the new year due to construction, so I did not feel guilty about not starting earlier. I looked over my schedule and realized that Friday is an empty exercise day for me--usually because it's a crazy busy day, and the only time available is early morning. But early morning is perfect for the pool. I was in the water at 6:10 this morning, and will aim to be in the water by 5:45 (the earliest possible time) next Friday. I swam for nearly 50 minutes, and though I did not count laps, I estimate that I swam about 1,000 metres, not quite. I swam steadily and slowly, and discovered that my form has improved, or perhaps just my fitness level. When I started this blog, I remember writing about the fact that I could not swim. That was no exaggeration. My attempt at a crawl stroke moved me nowhere in the water, and at great effort and expense. Now, I move through the water more efficiently, and my general fitness must have increased over this fall, too, because it felt easier. I didn't feel the fatigue except toward the very end, and even then, was able to swim the last 100m as a sprint, just to test it out. I definitely felt the difference between my easy calm pace, and the flat-out effort of the sprint, and I would like to add in some sprint laps more frequently, perhaps every ten minutes. I would also like to swim for a full hour, which I why I need to start earlier.
I came home, already showered, which was a bonus, and got the day underway: crockpot supper, and kids' breakfasts, and everyone organized and out the door, and then forgot to eat till mid-morning (in fact, half of my breakfast is still sitting in the bowl beside me).
I like rising early. It's always easier than I think it will be. I also like doing something quiet by myself to start the day. It felt peaceful in that water. I could understand the appeal.
But my techinique could use some finessing. I wonder whether I should take a lesson or two, just to iron things out. I know my head is still too high when I turn to breathe. Could my kick be more efficient? Is my hand position correct when entering the water? It all felt pretty smooth today, but if a tweak here or there would make it easier to swim even further, even faster, why not seek it out?
I plan to swim once a week for now, no more. At the very least, it adds variety into my exercise routine.
I am also noticing that my body wants to do something every day. Even every day sometimes doesn't feel like enough. I ran early on Wed. morning, a little shorter than I had been running, and by yesterday evening's yoga class, I was terribly restless. I would have run yesterday morning, but my husband is trying out a weekly yoga class, too, and and that's when we'd arranged time for him to go. (And I'm excited for him to be doing it!). But my body wasn't happy. It wanted to go--it wanted more. That's why I pushed it in the pool at the end today; because I wanted a harder work-out. I don't quite feel like I got that, but I'll know to push harder throughout on my next swim.
:::
This triathlon dream has changed me. I am somewhat amazed to discover that it was not a whim, but a real goal. It's allowed me to dream big, and to test myself against a big dream. There are many obstacles to acheiving one's dreams, but the first obstacle is always the self. Just being brave enough to imagine oneself doing something completely different--and then testing it out. I still can't quite believe that I am swimming. That I can swim, first of all, and that I enjoyed swimming, this morning.
Imagining myself completing a triathlon, really and truly imagining it being possible, has made me look at myself differently. I realized this morning that I think of myself, now, as being someone who gets things done, confident, true to her word, and trustworthy. The further I get in the process, the less significant completing a race seems against the more significant changes this training has wrought in my body, and my mind.
Next up. A spinning class. Maybe. (My friend Tricia is my inspiration for that!).
I came home, already showered, which was a bonus, and got the day underway: crockpot supper, and kids' breakfasts, and everyone organized and out the door, and then forgot to eat till mid-morning (in fact, half of my breakfast is still sitting in the bowl beside me).
I like rising early. It's always easier than I think it will be. I also like doing something quiet by myself to start the day. It felt peaceful in that water. I could understand the appeal.
But my techinique could use some finessing. I wonder whether I should take a lesson or two, just to iron things out. I know my head is still too high when I turn to breathe. Could my kick be more efficient? Is my hand position correct when entering the water? It all felt pretty smooth today, but if a tweak here or there would make it easier to swim even further, even faster, why not seek it out?
I plan to swim once a week for now, no more. At the very least, it adds variety into my exercise routine.
I am also noticing that my body wants to do something every day. Even every day sometimes doesn't feel like enough. I ran early on Wed. morning, a little shorter than I had been running, and by yesterday evening's yoga class, I was terribly restless. I would have run yesterday morning, but my husband is trying out a weekly yoga class, too, and and that's when we'd arranged time for him to go. (And I'm excited for him to be doing it!). But my body wasn't happy. It wanted to go--it wanted more. That's why I pushed it in the pool at the end today; because I wanted a harder work-out. I don't quite feel like I got that, but I'll know to push harder throughout on my next swim.
:::
This triathlon dream has changed me. I am somewhat amazed to discover that it was not a whim, but a real goal. It's allowed me to dream big, and to test myself against a big dream. There are many obstacles to acheiving one's dreams, but the first obstacle is always the self. Just being brave enough to imagine oneself doing something completely different--and then testing it out. I still can't quite believe that I am swimming. That I can swim, first of all, and that I enjoyed swimming, this morning.
Imagining myself completing a triathlon, really and truly imagining it being possible, has made me look at myself differently. I realized this morning that I think of myself, now, as being someone who gets things done, confident, true to her word, and trustworthy. The further I get in the process, the less significant completing a race seems against the more significant changes this training has wrought in my body, and my mind.
Next up. A spinning class. Maybe. (My friend Tricia is my inspiration for that!).
Monday, January 17, 2011
Day 170: Fit
Wonderful snowy night run a few hours ago, and I finished feeling better than when I'd started, with the sense that I could have gone longer, that my muscles were getting juicy and my mind had settled into quiet. It takes a few kilometres for my mind to slow down, to find stillness, to enter the body more fully. Running reminds me of yoga that way. There is a peace to occupying the body as it works. Repetitive effort is the key ingredient, for me.
When I started out, a thought popped in my mind: why am I trying to be fit? What is my goal? What kind of fitness am I aiming for? Is it mental toughness? A kind of emotional fitness, the calm of knowing that I can get through difficult moments? Do I want to be able to pull my kids on a sled? (I can already do that). Do I want to finish certain races, and if so, why? Is my motivation the goal itself, or the many moments that pull me toward the goal. The only reason I am a writer is not because I've achieved certain goals (though that's nice), it's because I love to write, and I can't imagine my life without that form of expression.
I would like to be a life-long runner, or at least a life-long exerciser, and for that to work, the goal can't be the completion of a race. It has to mean something else to me. It has to matter in a much more visceral and practical way, to my life.
For the first time in my life, I've practiced something, exercise-wise, for a full year. I've been doing yoga regularly (at least twice a week) for the past year, and not because I want to be a yoga guru or a teacher or a master student; because I love the way it makes me feel; I love being in the classes, and I love the feeling I have after the classes.
So, running: do you speak to me in the same way? When I'm out running, I sure feel that way. But somehow it's harder to get myself out for a run than out for a yoga class. Not sure why. It's not that the run is harder than the yoga class, not at all. But I have a tendency to be competitive when I'm running--with myself, I mean; and that makes the run somewhat less appealing. I went longer than usual tonight, and I wondered and hoped and pray that I'm not setting a new precedent, and that I will feel disappointed in myself on the nights when I run shorter or slower or less.
Expectations. They can make or break one's mental fitness.
When I started out, a thought popped in my mind: why am I trying to be fit? What is my goal? What kind of fitness am I aiming for? Is it mental toughness? A kind of emotional fitness, the calm of knowing that I can get through difficult moments? Do I want to be able to pull my kids on a sled? (I can already do that). Do I want to finish certain races, and if so, why? Is my motivation the goal itself, or the many moments that pull me toward the goal. The only reason I am a writer is not because I've achieved certain goals (though that's nice), it's because I love to write, and I can't imagine my life without that form of expression.
I would like to be a life-long runner, or at least a life-long exerciser, and for that to work, the goal can't be the completion of a race. It has to mean something else to me. It has to matter in a much more visceral and practical way, to my life.
For the first time in my life, I've practiced something, exercise-wise, for a full year. I've been doing yoga regularly (at least twice a week) for the past year, and not because I want to be a yoga guru or a teacher or a master student; because I love the way it makes me feel; I love being in the classes, and I love the feeling I have after the classes.
So, running: do you speak to me in the same way? When I'm out running, I sure feel that way. But somehow it's harder to get myself out for a run than out for a yoga class. Not sure why. It's not that the run is harder than the yoga class, not at all. But I have a tendency to be competitive when I'm running--with myself, I mean; and that makes the run somewhat less appealing. I went longer than usual tonight, and I wondered and hoped and pray that I'm not setting a new precedent, and that I will feel disappointed in myself on the nights when I run shorter or slower or less.
Expectations. They can make or break one's mental fitness.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Day 164: Snow Run
Got up early to run in the snowstorm with my friend, N, who is my faithful early morning running partner, and inspiration. She has been running regularly much longer than I have, and what interests me is that she has no desire whatsoever to compete in a race. She runs purely for the love of it, and because it releases stress and makes her feel good. She considers it a key factor for her own mental health.
I'd been trying to talk her into running a nice slow half-marathon with me, because I need someone who will run slowly and steadily and keep me from killing myself with competition. Today, we started off feeling sluggish and found the running difficult, and it got easier and easier the further we went. We stayed slow. It felt like we could have gone for a long long time (longer than the almost-hour we did go for), running at this nice slow pace. When I run by myself I'm always pushing it, testing myself, trying to go faster, further, more hills, whatever the challenge may be. Somehow, I lose the joyfulness of running purely for the sake of moving my body.
We had to run in the road, in the few tracks that had been left by cars, through snow up past our ankles, till we found one street that had been mysteriously cleared (it was not a main or busy street). I've been using yak-traks on my shoes, which my husband got me for Christmas. I layer up, and wear some windbreaker gloves, also a Christmas gift, and by the end of a run I'm sweating and hot. I finished off the run with some upper body work: shovelling snow off our sidewalk. "We are the champions," was the song in my head as I cleared the walk at 7am.
My hamstrings are still tight from a particularly exciting kundalini class on Saturday evening. I also ran both Saturday morning and Sunday morning. I took Monday off, mostly because I couldn't drag myself out of bed for the early morning silent yoga class, which was my only chance to exercise that day; but was back at it yesterday, with a 90-minute yoga class to clear out my head after a frustrating writing day, and then the run this morning. The yoga class reminded me that no matter how steadily and how often I practice, sometimes it's just harder than others--yesterday was brutal. It's not like I'll ever reach a point where I'm so beautifully fit that exercise becomes easy. Sometimes I'm tired, physically or mentally; or I haven't eaten enough; or I'm a bit dehydrated. But no matter what, no matter how difficult, I am always always always glad I've gotten up, or gotten out. I must remember that.
Seems obvious, and seems like I need constant reminding, but it feels so good to move my body. It's worth the early morning alarm, the need for a late-afternoon nap, and all of the tight scheduling that must be done in advance to squeeze it into my life.
I need to work in a swim one day a week. But first, I need to finish this book I'm writing, which is not about triathlons or exercising or yoga; though maybe it should be. Maybe I'll find a way to incorporate that into the storyline, as I aim to tie everything together here in the last fifty pages or so--my life and my character's life, diverging and connecting.
I'd been trying to talk her into running a nice slow half-marathon with me, because I need someone who will run slowly and steadily and keep me from killing myself with competition. Today, we started off feeling sluggish and found the running difficult, and it got easier and easier the further we went. We stayed slow. It felt like we could have gone for a long long time (longer than the almost-hour we did go for), running at this nice slow pace. When I run by myself I'm always pushing it, testing myself, trying to go faster, further, more hills, whatever the challenge may be. Somehow, I lose the joyfulness of running purely for the sake of moving my body.
We had to run in the road, in the few tracks that had been left by cars, through snow up past our ankles, till we found one street that had been mysteriously cleared (it was not a main or busy street). I've been using yak-traks on my shoes, which my husband got me for Christmas. I layer up, and wear some windbreaker gloves, also a Christmas gift, and by the end of a run I'm sweating and hot. I finished off the run with some upper body work: shovelling snow off our sidewalk. "We are the champions," was the song in my head as I cleared the walk at 7am.
My hamstrings are still tight from a particularly exciting kundalini class on Saturday evening. I also ran both Saturday morning and Sunday morning. I took Monday off, mostly because I couldn't drag myself out of bed for the early morning silent yoga class, which was my only chance to exercise that day; but was back at it yesterday, with a 90-minute yoga class to clear out my head after a frustrating writing day, and then the run this morning. The yoga class reminded me that no matter how steadily and how often I practice, sometimes it's just harder than others--yesterday was brutal. It's not like I'll ever reach a point where I'm so beautifully fit that exercise becomes easy. Sometimes I'm tired, physically or mentally; or I haven't eaten enough; or I'm a bit dehydrated. But no matter what, no matter how difficult, I am always always always glad I've gotten up, or gotten out. I must remember that.
Seems obvious, and seems like I need constant reminding, but it feels so good to move my body. It's worth the early morning alarm, the need for a late-afternoon nap, and all of the tight scheduling that must be done in advance to squeeze it into my life.
I need to work in a swim one day a week. But first, I need to finish this book I'm writing, which is not about triathlons or exercising or yoga; though maybe it should be. Maybe I'll find a way to incorporate that into the storyline, as I aim to tie everything together here in the last fifty pages or so--my life and my character's life, diverging and connecting.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Day 155: New
Nothing new, actually. But it's a new year. I remain indecisive about how strongly to commit myself to triathlon training. Nevertheless, I continue to exercise and stay fit. Over the holidays, I was not able to squeeze in four exercise sessions each week, but when I counted it up, I hadn't slipped as much as I'd assumed: I did exercise five times, including a long run last week. I've started this week with two early morning yoga classes, and intend to bump my fitness back up by exercising daily for the next two weeks (or nearly daily, as the case may be).
I went to a massage therapist on my birthday, which was on December 29th, and as it happens, she is also a personal trainer and a triathlete and marathoner. But it didn't feel like the universe was ringing a big gong. I mentioned my interest in doing a triathlon and she encouraged me to do a try-a-tri. I like that idea. It's not a long race, and it wouldn't impress any Ironman athletes, but it would be a start. I'm going to run some dates past my husband and sign up early.
I went to a massage therapist on my birthday, which was on December 29th, and as it happens, she is also a personal trainer and a triathlete and marathoner. But it didn't feel like the universe was ringing a big gong. I mentioned my interest in doing a triathlon and she encouraged me to do a try-a-tri. I like that idea. It's not a long race, and it wouldn't impress any Ironman athletes, but it would be a start. I'm going to run some dates past my husband and sign up early.
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