Day 212: On (the) Track

To sum up last week's efforts: one spin, one swim, four yoga, two runs (one long). I was shy one planned run--shouldn't have taken Monday off--and decided to try something different this week and start off with a run. (I did run 20km last week, which is pretty good, for me!).

This Monday morning, I crawled out of bed at 5:15am, not having watched any of the Oscars last night (lights out by 9pm). Despite having organized my stuff after supper, I was moving slowly. It felt like a Monday. I was a little late to pick up my friend, and we were in the pool five minutes past opening; not a lot off, just a little. All that changed when I got in the water. Today was different: I could swim right from the start. I found a rhythm; my mind was quiet. I used the alternate breathing for a number of lengths, and could feel my body getting more accustomed to it. There were even lengths when it felt preferable. But whenever I flailed or swallowed water (which makes me gag from the thought of how disgusting it is), I returned immediately to same-side breathing--my comfort zone. I'm thankful to have a comfort zone in the water, now.

The ease with which I entered into my (slow and steady) rhythm convinced me that I should swim twice a week. At least for the next little while. I have a long way to go as a swimmer. And it's exercise I could enjoy long-term, after my knees are shot. (Please don't leave me, knees!). With more practice, this alternate-side breathing might become my new slow and steady. My spine will thank me.

I spent 55 minutes in the pool. Did I mention that I'd felt tired, thirsty, and hungry when I woke up? I did drink water, but did not eat anything. I haven't been eating immediately before swimming, obeying that old rule about waiting an hour (or is that an old wives' tale?).

I climbed out of the pool, showered to remove the chlorine, and put on my running gear. The rec centre has an indoor track. My initial plan was to run for 30 minutes, to be home by 7:45, but after gauging my energy levels (which were good), I set a different goal for myself: I decided to run 5km at a pace of 5 minutes each. And that's what I did, precisely. I couldn't have gone 10km at the same pace without suffering, but 5km felt well within my means, and not as if I were pushing it. I'd forgotten that the track overlooks an ice rink, and the air was really cold, but that just encouraged me to keep pace. I try to maintain the feeling of a spring within my leg muscles. If I push myself past that coiled-spring feeling, I'm going too hard. That's how I pace myself.

I want to work a shorter faster run into my weekly routine, and this Monday morning timing may prove ideal. The track is comfortable and flat and indoors and saves me from splashing through puddles and ice. Perhaps I will try adding an additional kilometre at that pace, or simply speeding my pace up slightly to continue pushing myself harder. That was my second run wearing a watch. I don't love it, but I think it is useful for understanding my own pacing--taking my interior sense of pacing and measuring it objectively.

My goal is to be able to run 10km at a 5 minute/per pace. I'm not sure what would be a reasonable goal for a half-marathon pace. Maybe 5 and a 1/2 minutes per kilometre? That's not within my means right now. I'm not even positive I could run a half-marathon. I'm looking forward (in a weird way) to Saturday's long slow distance run when I test out 14km. A 6-minute pace is what I'll aim for on Saturday.

With this extra run, and a run with my friend on Wed., and the long run on Saturday, I feel confident that I'm getting enough regular mileage for the triathlon, and probably for the half-marathon, too; especially because the swims and the spin class count too, toward improving cardio-vascular fitness. I did not find it difficult to run post-swim. The two activities felt different, and I had enough energy. I did feel a bit self-conscious about my goggle-raccoon-eyes, but honestly who's looking? I didn't feel self-conscious about the rest of me. I felt--I'm feeling--more like an athlete. I know I can be over-enthusiastic about my own abilities, but I think that's how my psychology works--I'm like a dog chasing a ball that's thrown just a little beyond reach. I throw the ball just out of reach and I chase it. It's a fine line between over-estimating my own abilities and believing in my own potential. I suspect this is how I've been successful in other areas in my life, though, too; and I don't think it's the worst way to be, so long as I'm not being insufferable. (Am I being insufferable? You can tell me, really you can).

:::

Goals for this week: three runs (one long), one spin, two swim, four/five yogas.

Day 210: Run

In addition to the triathlon, I'd like to complete a half-marathon, which seems reasonably within my sights as I ramp up my exercise schedule. From the reading I've done, and advice from friends, it sounds like the long weekly run is a big part of training for distance. So I'm working gradually toward the goal of a 20km run, starting last Saturday with 10km, and this Saturday with 12km. I ran 12km in an hour and 15 minutes, which works out to about exactly a 6 minute kilometre. Slow, but not too slow. I am my own worst enemy, and had to keep reminding myself not to worry about being SLOW! I wanted to pace it faster, though I'm not sure I could at this point. I felt pretty happy to be done (and I was getting thirsty, as I have not yet bought a pack to carry mini-water bottles), but I also felt that I could have gone around my 2km loop again without suffering too badly. The other happy discovery was that I recovered quickly, and didn't feel tired afterward. Which was fortunate, because this day is stacked with errands and plans and opposing schedules, so I had time only for a quick shower, a bite to eat, and then I was out the door carrying my cup of coffee to buy groceries and pick up my eldest daughter and her friends from their theatre class, which got me home in time to unload the truck, grab an extremely fast bite to eat, and head out to a 60-minute yoga class, stopping to get a gift for a kid's birthday party en route ... phew. And it wasn't even 12:30 at that point.

Yoga felt great. I would like to do the shorter yoga class following the long run. It feels good to stretch. And I felt strong! Next week: 14km.

Day 209: Fish/Food

A couple of notes on a couple of different topics.

First, swimming, because that's what I did this morning. My chiropractor recommended breathing on alternate sides. His method, put into practice, made me feel like I was drowning (breathing every two strokes out of the same side, and alternating sides each length). To be fair, he did say it would take "two or three months" to get comfortable doing this. I don't want to spend two or three months struggling in the water, when I've only just found some ease in that element. Friends with swimming experience agreed that it would be a hard method to learn, and recommended alternating sides every three strokes. Again, this would take practice, but perhaps not two to three months.

So, I tried this morning. I tried at the very beginning (bad idea), and quickly gave it up. My first half hour in the water is a write-off. I am still trying to find a rhythm and get used to the breathing. I also felt fatigued this morning, and it took me that long to find my ease. But sometime during the second half hour, I felt like turning to the non-dominant side, just to level out my body in the water. So I did several laps breathing every three strokes. It wasn't terrible. I didn't feel like I was drowning. But I felt the limitations of my left shoulder's rotation, which is always a bit stiff, never as open as the right side. Maybe my chiropractor can help with that. Meanwhile, the discovery is that I go faster breathing on alternate sides--more strokes to build more momentum? And part of me liked the feeling of my body being more level in the water. But the timing of my kick was distinctly off (and my kick is usually something I don't have to think about). So it took a lot of mental energy. After several laps, I gave up and returned to the same old same old, though I did try to throw in a length here and there with the alternate breathing strokes. My last complaint about breathing every three strokes is that I felt like I wasn't getting enough oxygen. I wanted to breathe more often. I never got into a rhythm. But then, I didn't really do it long enough to get a chance to.

Because it takes a long time for me to get into a rhythm. Every swim, I think, well, this time it just isn't going to happen. And every swim, as the second half hour ticks down, I feel it coming, until I reach a point that is a bit like being hypnotized, and I become part-fish. That's what it feels like. It must have something to do with exercise-induced exhaustion--that my mind shuts off its tiresome nit-picking technically-focused narration and just hums quietly in the background, watching with amazement as my body swims like it knows what it's doing. It's totally worth every stroke to get to that point in my swim. Could I get there breathing on alternate sides? Could I last that long? I will have to try.

I will be swimming again on Monday morning, which may indeed by my new swim day. I'm curious to see what the pool's culture will be like on that morning. I've gotten to recognize some of the heads and goggles who come regularly on Fridays. (Goggle-eyes, by the way, are not attractive: this morning, Kevin thought I'd returned home exhausted, dark circles under my eyes; but it was just the goggle-effect). My plan for Monday is to swim for an hour, shower, change into running shoes, and run for half an hour on the indoor track. I am not an indoor-track-runner, but it would give me a chance to put two parts of the triathlon puzzle together, back-to-back; it would add a run into my week; and I could be home by 7:45.

But I will need to eat something in between the swim and the run.

Food. Hunger. That is my second topic for today. I've been noticing, with some alarm, that I am hungry--famished, even--at unexpected points during the day, and sometimes during work-outs. Some days I never feel full, or feel like my body is craving a very specific nutrient that I've somehow failed to feed it, no matter what I try. This is a strange sensation, and, frankly, a bit unnerving. As a teenager, I had an eating disorder (bulimia--talk about unattractive), which was resolved with counselling during my first year of university: I chose to feed myself in a different way. I decided to listen to and trust my body. If that meant gaining weight, I chose to accept it. Turned out, it meant finding a new and happy stability, and losing the obsessive relationship with food. Therefore, when I'm hungry, I eat. I never count calories. I haven't owned a scale since then (age eighteen), and never weigh myself. Even during the necessary weight gains and losses during my childbearing years, I was reasonably accepting and remained true to the principle of listening to my body. I like to eat, and I eat often and well and without guilt or concern, trusting my body to tell me what it needs. But what is it telling me right now? I am having some difficulty interpreting what it's saying. I am not concerned about weight loss/gain, but about fueling my body properly, and staving off these horrible hunger pangs.

Should I be eating more often during the day? Am I craving more carbs? More protein? Can a mostly vegetarian diet (protein from lentils and beans and some milk products) fuel this level of physical activity? Because man, I'll tell you, my husband and I have a date tomorrow night, and I have been fantasizing for a week about the steak I plan on ordering. (When I cook with a steak, it goes into a soup or stew and feeds our family of six).

Another question: How do I feed and hydrate myself during a work-out that last longer than an hour?

If you have thoughts or advice, I'm listening.

Day 208

I took Monday off entirely. It was Family Day here in Ontario, and I spent it at home with my family, doing a bunch of baking and cooking and mostly just relaxing. There was time to get out to yoga, or go for a run, but I chose not to. Tuesday was spin class, my fourth one, and next week is the last in the session, but I'll have to go alone, as my spinning partner isn't able to come. Yikes. I can go alone, right? Sure I can. I've already signed up for the session after that. I also have to swim alone this week, as my swimming partner is unable to come. But we're going to go on Monday to make up for it. I might switch my swims to Mondays, in order to run on Friday mornings; or I might simply add a Monday morning swim in addition to the Friday swim. I've been soliciting advice from friends about breathing techniques in the water, and it sounds like I should make an effort to breathe out of alternate sides, every three strokes. So I will have to try while I'm still learning and setting out patterns.

I ran yesterday morning, adding an extra lap alone; about 7.5km. Now there's a break till this afternoon's 90-minute yoga. Tomorrow will be swimming, but that's it. I plan to do a long run on Saturday, and yoga on Sunday, possibly with an additional shorter run.

I think it's time to sign up for some races ... the one I want to do conflicts with my husband's work schedule. I would like to sign up for something earlier rather than later in the season, lest I lose momentum.

204: Extra Run

Ran for 10+km last night, and with a full day off in between, I was bubbling over with energy. It felt like I could have run further, so I ended with a full-on sprint just to see how much was left. Quite a lot, I think. I'm figuring something out. It's not that exertion, in the form of any exercise, gets easier. It's that my body has more layers of reserves to draw upon. I can dig down into this reservoir of energy and endurance and find more, over and over again. With practice, I've come to read and know my body's limits. I trust that my body has the capacity to recover after brief intense bursts of extreme exertion. I know what lungs and heart sound like when they're working hard. It isn't scary. But it could be, if I weren't comfortable and familiar with what this feels like, if I didn't understand that it was normal, not connected to being out of control.

So, not easier, but quicker recovery times, for sure, and mentally easier to push myself harder. Less resistance to temporary hardship.

I got to a 90-minute hot yoga class this morning (oh burning thighs; and thankful hips), and may run this evening, but if I do it will be short and quick, 6km. I need to organize my week ahead and schedule out my exercise plan.

This week (not counting the potential run tonight) has been slightly better than planned, with that extra run last night: two yoga, one spin, one swim, two three runs. [revised hours later: yup, I turned that potential run into an actual one! A quick, short 6km]

Next week (hoped-for): four yoga, one spin, one swim, three runs.

Day 201: Smooth

Enjoyed the pool this morning. I followed my usual pattern: strangely panicky at first, staring down at the deeps, taking in water, gasping. It's weird. The first 100m are far and away the very worst. And the second half hour, when I'm probably heading into my second kilometre, is the best. I didn't count laps till the toward the end when I swam the last 1,000m in approximately 25 minutes, getting smoother and smoother as I went (at least, that's how it felt). I stopped thinking. That seems to be the key. I wasn't thinking about anything at all; and most particularly, I wasn't thinking about swimming--how to swim, how to move, how to breathe, how not to choke, how to bring my arms around, how to kick, how to turn, how fast to go. None of that. I was just going, ploughing through the water like I could have kept going forever. Though in truth I was happy to stop at the end of that kilometre, happy for the clock to tell me I'd been at this for an hour. I hope on race day that I can find that feeling more quickly. I am also glad that the swim is first. I'll bet they do that on purpose. If you're fatigued and your technique is fading fast, you're not going to die during the running portion of the race. But you don't want to be deeply fatigued and struggling in the water.

Just remembered a memory that surfaced early in my swim today, which might account for some of that panicky feeling. I remembered nearly drowning in my cousins' backyard above-ground pool. I was about seven, and not a strong swimmer. The pool was chockful of kids, most older than me. I was wearing a blow-up device around my waist, that also required me to stick my legs through a harness. Somehow, the device flipped me over and pinned me upside down, and I could not right myself. I remember the feeling of being trapped underwater and beginning to open my mouth to breathe, even though I knew I shouldn't. Because the pool was so full, no one noticed, everyone went on playing around me. Suddenly, I was dragged out, choking. My mother, who had been in the house at quite a distance, had looked out the window and seen what was happening. I think it was a psychic mother-moment. She tore out of the house and pulled me out, and my uncle did some chest compressions (as I recall) to get the water out of my lungs.

It never stopped me from playing in water. I loved playing the ocean. But all the strokes I learned were strokes that didn't require me to submerse my head under the water. Maybe that feeling of dreadful panic is triggered by a subconscious memory of that near-drowning. While in the pool this morning, I remembered, and thought about accepting the feeling and moving through it. Just understanding why I might be feeling what I was feeling was helpful.

:::

And that's it for my hard work this week. Sigh. Spin on Tuesday, run yesterday, swim this morning ... now a blank slate till Sunday morning. Maybe I'll get a run in Saturday afternoon if my husband gets home early. Yes. I'll aim for that. It's too depressing to imagine two full days without getting out and doing something.

Day 200: !

Have to write something on Day 200. (Assuming I've counted correctly, that is; don't doublecheck my addition, please). I went for a delicious run this morning, and the sky was light by the time we were headed home. The sky was light! Winter is lifting, just a little bit. But I haven't felt oppressed by it this year. I do believe it's all the exercise--and getting outside. A good change.

Yoga class yesterday evening was lovely, too. I felt strong and comfortable, and nicely wrung out by the end. And ideas were flowing. I love when I'm emptied out and the ideas have room to flow. I got an almost complete picture for the novel I'm considering writing, using a character who I'm calling "The Runner."

But I had some other thoughts about exercise too. The dark side. I was thinking that exercise breaks a person down, on the inside. And sometimes it breaks you down and you connect with the divine that is not otherwise accessible, blocked out by ego or by conscious thought or by resistance. And sometimes it breaks you down and you are vulnerable to negative influences: you might be willing to do things you wouldn't consider doing otherwise. That seems to me the basic principle of basic army training: breaking down the person using physical means, in order to build them up into a soldier.

 :::

No more time, it's time for nursery school pick-up. But I'm pleased with my week so far, and do indeed feel stronger and healthier; and appreciative for the exercise I've been able to do this week. I can lift my arms again, too, for which I am truly, truly thankful.

Day 199: Aches

Wow, almost 200 days since starting this project. Time flies. Am I stronger, faster, closer to my goal? I'd say yes, but a more tired and achy yes than I might have predicted back on day 1. In every project, there are moments when one questions ... well, all kinds of things. If I had known how much work would be involved, would I have started? That is a common question for me, because I seem drawn to long, slow projects. And my answer is always, well, yes, I guess--and besides, it's too late now, because I'm in too deep!

My current book (pub date 2012) has many more days behind it than this triathlon project. It has years. It predates my parents' divorce and the birth of my fourth child. And I never gave up on it. So I know from long and steady and slow.

This triathlon project has a similar feel to it. Intense work, and quiet slow in-between waiting for more intense work, toward a goal that is both concrete and abstract. I think one race will be enough for me. And I would like to turn my discoveries into a book of its own. But one never knows what will happen along the long, slow journey toward a goal. Things change, both inside and out. Circumstances. The self. The project itself can change one, or transform into something quite different.

Anyway. I'm tired today. As mentioned in my last post, I ran on Saturday, and did a 90-minute steaming hot yoga class on Sunday morning, and took yesterday off altogether. I just needed a day to recover. This morning I was back at it early, spinning away at 6:15am. Still the hardest thing I do in my work-out. My arms still ache and feel weak from kundalini on Friday night. I'm fighting a cold (the remedy for which seems to be exercise--honestly, I swear by it). Another yoga class in a couple of hours. Run tomorrow. Swim Thursday. And then a forced two-day break due to my husband working out of town. This will be a quiet week, exercise-wise. I'm not feeling super-sad about that right now, though I'm seeing some big holes in the training. Where are these runs I need to be doing?

This week's plan: two yoga classes; one spin; one swim; one run. Yikes!!!! Not good enough. But better than nothing at all, so I must look at it that way. Maybe I could squeeze in a second run on Sunday evening ...

Day 197: Body and Spirit

My body is feeling pretty beat up today. I am being punished for that post where I said a run was "too easy." Seriously? There must be a happy medium, somewhere between too easy and super-hard. Maybe too easy is actually pleasantly paced, or perfectly wonderful, or happily unstrained.

After my swim on Friday, I had a usual day filled with usual home activities, then went out to a kundalini yoga class late in the day, which required a lot of sleight-of-hand childcare wrangling (almost didn't make it). Began the two hours class thrilled to be challenged, and, as the session went on, cursing my enthusiastic morning swim (which, combined with certain kriyas, appeared to have turned my arms to jelly), and by the end I felt quietly humbled. I went home and had a beer with my husband and stayed up later than usual (post-midnight). I knew there would be pain the next day. And there was. I did not get up for the early morning yoga class, as planned. But thankfully a friend posted a photo from her early morning Saturday run, and it inspired me to run, also as planned. I made it six aching kilometres through fairly heavy snow with thighs so sore and tired they were not much interested in rising OR falling. I comforted myself by thinking that I will no doubt feel much worse during the last six kilometres of the triathlon.

This morning, I rose early-ish and went to a 90-minute hot yoga class that was not on my high priority list to attend. I actually didn't want to go. And it was a challenge. My legs felt better, but my triceps were watery and the one felt like it had been punched repeatedly. I could barely lift my banana to my mouth let alone do extensive downward dogs. At least, that's how I felt going into class. But I made it. I was tired and weak, but I stuck it out and without too many modifications made it through to the end. And I felt so fabulously good afterward.

I decided that my body needs a day off. So I am not going for a run this evening, as planned. No. (Mind just said, what???? Are you sure????). Yes. I am sure. My body needs a day to recover and rest, and then I'll feel even stronger and can reap the benefits of all this freaking work I've been making it do.

I also had an additional thought. About the body and the spirit. A strong body does not equal a strong spirit; not necessarily. I can strengthen my body all I want, but if my spirit is weak, if I'm not connecting to something larger than the body's simple and self-involved desires, all the work is for nothing. Physical work can be good for the spirit, but the two don't automatically go together. Someone frail of body might be mighty of spirit; and vice versa. I would like to be both. I would like to connect this body work to spirit work. That sounds ephemeral, and perhaps is, but here's something that happened today: when I thought about the word spirit, I felt stronger during the class; and when I thought about the word body, all by itself, I felt weaker.

:::

This week (assuming I don't run tonight--no, I'm not going to!): five yoga classes; two runs; one swim; one spin. For a total of nine exercise slots. Next week, I'd like to add one more run. I may drop a yoga class (or two) in order to do that.

Day 195: Buoyant

Fourth session in the pool this morning, and it was a good one. I decided to try swimming 100m without stopping--except to turn around, which I'm getting better at doing smoothly. At first, I thought 100m would be all I could do, as my breathing got heavier. Then I realized it's just like running. Breathing gets heavier, but only to a point, and you just have to get used to it and then it feels fine. Same underwater. So, I never stopped. I went the entire hour swimming end to end. I stopped counting after 1km (or approximately, because frankly my brain is not good with the keeping track). That took me about half an hour or slightly less, so I figure I swam about 2kms. I even moved over to the medium lane toward the end, when I realized that I was annoying the leisure swimmers by lapping them repeatedly. Still don't quite understand the lane swimming etiquette, but thankfully it was a quiet morning and I mostly had lanes to myself.

I also must note that the yoga class post-spin felt easy. My thighs felt so sturdy. Not at all quavery. I also ran on Wednesday morning with a friend, and it felt too easy. We went about 5.5 kms. She has to get to work (plus it was our coldest morning run yet, with wind, too), which is why we went short, but next time out, I'll have to run an extra lap or two. I am really looking forward to running on the weekend. I just googlemapped my route to figure out distances, and discovered that a couple of Sundays ago I ran 10km without knowing it. That makes me feel good. Maybe, on that note, I will sign up for the half marathon.

Have not signed up for anything yet.

Must do that.

I also went to a hot yoga class last night; again, it felt easy. I love the stretching. I think it's imperative. Another yoga class tonight--kundalini, which I predict will not feel easy. And then a couple of runs, and hopefully two yoga classes on the weekend, if I can squeeze everything in. Along with the rest of my life, which includes getting kids to extracurricular activities, groceries and errands, and a date night with my husband. We're going to see Black Swan, even though I don't like scary movies.

Just read a short story about a character with an eating disorder which revolved around excessive exercise. Made me wonder--I'm not doing that, am I? Becoming obsessive about my body? I am so much enjoying the feeling of being stronger and more fit than I've ever in my life come close to being ... I hope it's not a form of vanity or self-delusion or ... something else negative. I'd prefer to think it's about feeling alive. About inhabiting this body fully while alive.

Oh, one last note: on naps! It's a fine art, which I am determined to perfect through practice. I have a friend who rises early most days of the week (like 5:15am early), and she swears by regular naps. So I've been trying it out experimentally, during this month of not having an excessive amount of work to do, and here's the scoop: naps are really restorative. Don't feel lazy if you take one. Don't feel like you're wasting time. Even twenty minutes in the early afternoon can save the day. I've got a new favourite nap spot: in the living-room, on a chair in front of the windows, with the afternoon sunshine pouring in.

Day 192: Up Early

Just because one takes a spin class with triathletes does not make one a triathlete. Wow. This spin class might just be a good way to observe how not-fit I actually am, compared to, well, these other people with their shiny new tri-bikes and crazy unstoppable muscular drive. Luckily, though I felt sluggish and tired at the start of class, I felt stronger as I went along. This seems to be a theme. The further I get into an exercise session, the stronger I feel. I suspect it's mental more than physical. The word that kept popping into my head at the start was "doubt." That's not a good word to work-out to, thought I, so I dropped a few letters and changed the word to "do." You get to a quiet interior place while spinning your legs around and around to music in a room in an industrial mall. (That's a strange sentence to write.) I feel better for having gone, but I do find it hard work.

I'm planning to get to a 90-minute yoga class in a few hours, and I'm curious to see how quivery my muscles will be (a whole lot quivery, methinks). I'm pretty achy already. I could use a good long stretch.

For some reason, I woke before 5, and never got back to sleep (alarm set for 5:27), so I got up early. Still, having gone to bed early, I got 7 hours of sleep last night, and it was pretty solid sleep. A better night than the one before. My positive attitude has returned.

My youngest daughter is playing "naptime" right now ... might just have to join in.

Day 191: Bleary, Blurry

Out of balance. It only took two days and three nights, and I feel lost, disconnected from the intention to train for and complete this triathlon. My husband was away for the weekend and I wasn't able to get out to do anything on my own. Instead, with kids in tow, I shovelled very heavy snow yesterday afternoon, soaked to the bone with sweat by the time I was done, about an hour later ... and that was it.

Set my alarm to get up for the early yoga class this morning, and instead was woken through the night every twenty to forty minutes by my youngest, who has a bad cough but no other visible symptoms. He kept screaming for me; almost like night terrors. I would calm him down, and go back to my bed, and be woken less than an hour later. Finally at one a.m., I turned off the alarm and brought him to our bed where we slept very restlessly for a couple of hours, till he asked to go back to his bed. He slept soundly from 5 a.m. till 7:30. That was his longest stretch ... and mine. And I said to my husband, I'm remembering why I used to be unable to get up early. The desire to hop out of bed pretty much disappears when one has already been up half the night. Years of my life were spent like that, but I'm not used to it anymore. My head feels fuzzy. I feel incapable of planning or thinking in an organized way.

I did go to a yoga class at noon. It felt imperative. It was that--get myself back on track--or give up on the project (ridiculous, I know, but my momentum feels really off). Yoga class was a good reminder that two days off hasn't ruined the training. Good grief. If it takes this little to throw me off ...

Well, at least I bounce back.

Tomorrow, I'm getting up early whether or not the kid sleeps through the night: I've signed up for the next three spin classes in the session, and expect I'll sign up for more after that, too. I'm already dreading it. It isn't really much fun to put yourself through intense exercise. But it feels good afterward. I must stop dreading it. Note to self.

Sleepy ...

Here's what I accomplished last week (Monday to Friday): three hot yoga classes; one run; one spin class; one swim. For a total of six exercise slots.

Hm. Doesn't sound like much. Or am I just being negative? I wasn't able to exercise last weekend either, so that cuts out some serious exercise times at either end. Hopefully this weekend will be more giving. I need to run at least three times a week, and four would be ideal, and for that, I need the weekends. It's not realistic to aim for more than one dose of structured exercise per day; already the juggling is demanding. And just wait till spring when the kids start their soccer season in all seriousness; and swim lessons. Right now, the kids are doing soccer three times a week, total, and we also do piano, drum, guitar, and music lessons (for a total of three hours per week, but that doesn't include transportation time). My older daughter also does a theatre class once a week. With four kids, scheduling time for everyone to pursue their interests is a real challenge, especially as I ramp up my own interests, and we go down to one vehicle (in March). Hm.

Here's what I hope to accomplish this week: five yoga classes (I'm doing a 30-day challenge, so I'm hoping to do a few extra classes); three runs (two on the weekend); one spin; one swim. For a total of ten exercise slots. Yikes. We'll see whether it's remotely feasible. This month I'm going a little heavy on the yoga; next month will have to back off the yoga and go heavier on the run/swim/spin.

Day 188: Swim and Nap

Swam for a full hour this morning, the longest so far, and my once-a-week goal. Twice-a-week would be better, but is not currently feasible. Maybe closer to the date of the triathlon. Since last checking in, I also went to my usual 90-minute yoga class, which last night felt easy. I think the instructor went a bit short, and eased off some of the more challenging poses. And I fit in a short date with my husband--out of the house at our favourite restaurant where I devoured a generous helping of lasagne. But I'm not drinking anymore, due to the early rising (I mean the casual social drinking that I used to enjoy--a beer with my husband on our date night, for example). Mango juice just doesn't seem like date night.

Getting up at 5:15 shouldn't be measurably harder than getting up at 5:40, but it is; and it's Friday. Thankfully, I was meeting a friend. We don't actually swim together, because she's a much better swimmer than I am. She says she always figures she's about "medium" at everything she does (not true--she's above-average at everything she does), so she goes in the medium lane. I figure I'm not going anywhere fast, so I choose the leisure lane (which may also speak to my attitude--I don't want to set expectations too high; I'd rather move up slowly than be humblingly called out). This morning, the first half hour was a struggle. It's my third time out for a "real" swim, and I felt, frankly, weary. My breathing came hard. My legs were fatigued. I stopped a lot to adjust my goggles (which seemed to be leaking more water than usual, but I also recognized that it was a coping technique--a chance to stop for a quick breather). The lane length is short--only 20 metres, and I find it difficult to have to restart my rhythm so often. I don't have a smooth turnaround method. I touch the wall, doggie paddle to change directions, then begin the stroke again. (Crawl stroke).

The first half hour was filled with doubt. If I'm aching this much after a mere 200 metres, what am I thinking, attempting a sprint-length race? I won't be able to stop and rest every 20 metres in a lake. I won't be able to adjust my goggles, or stop to spit out a mouthful of (disgusting) water. (I get gaggy thinking about taking in any pool water).

But the second half hour, things got better. My stroke felt smoother. I said to myself, take it easy. You're not here to win a race, you're just here to get better. You're starting almost from scratch. Go easy on yourself. (Yes, I talk to myself in the second person, sometimes, which, frankly, drives myself crazy; stop it, self!). Um. Where was I? Oh, yes, pep-talking myself in the pool.

Here was the difference between the first half hour and the second half hour. The first half hour, I kept thinking these words: watery grave. I kept focusing on the out-of-my-element aspects of the challenge. I hope that lifeguard is keeping her eye on me, I was thinking. Just in case everything seizes up here and I forget how to keep myself afloat. And the second half hour, I kept thinking: easy. The less forcefully I move my body through the water, the easier it is. I'm slow. Let it be known. I'm slow. But it feels easy. The watery world under there is kind of wonderful. When I turn to breathe, I catch a fleeting glimpse of droplets crossing the air. And under water, I can hear the murmurs of a quieter world. It's peaceful. And I move through it fearlessly.

:::

And can I just confess that I'm feeling grateful that I won't be able to get up early to run or go to yoga tomorrow? Though I may try to find a babysitter so I can run on Sunday. But I think I need a day off. Phew. I'm asking my body to turn itself into an athlete's body, and my body is saying, okay, uh, so here's the thing ... this has never before been an athlete's body! Also, I took a long nap this morning instead of working. This triathlon project is turning into a weird form of work. Unpaid and fairly costly work, it must be said.

Day 187: Obsession

Frustrated because I had to miss a yoga class on Tuesday due to my husband's work schedule. Also will be missing runs this weekend due to my husband's play schedule. Instead, fit in an early yoga class yesterday morning and a run last night in the fairly deep snow, like running on icy sand, or in sludge. Have to remind myself that a day or two here and there with no exercise is not the end of the world. Which makes me think I am hurtling headlong into obsessive territory. Seriously. There's more to life than exercising. Like, a lot more. And yet the desire to be more and more fit pulls with its own interior momentum. Slow and incremental changes that accrue. I am afraid that this project might make me into someone different. I am afraid of being changed in ways I can't anticipate.

This morning, I got to sleep in (my husband was up early instead), and I thought: okay, let's think of this project like a pregnancy. A limited period of intense work that aims toward a particular goal.

I also had a revelatory idea: this project might be fiction. What better way to get to know a new character, and a different world/culture than to immerse myself in it? Like the method style of acting. I'm excited by the thought. It opens up more possiblities in my mind.

Day 185: Spin

I survived my first spin class. As mentioned in my previous post, my friend T., who has completed the Ironman (!!), has been taking the class for awhile, and it's full of very intense triathlete/cycling types, who bring their own tri-bikes. It was definitely challenging, but I appreciated the challenge. Being with others definitely made me push harder than I thought I could--or, more precisely, than I particularly wanted to. The mental challenge.

Lots of thoughts, upon reflection, but my daughter is yelling for a different puzzle and my son for a different game, and we're late for playgroup. Aha. Real life, you see. It tends to interrupt.

Back again. Cupboards opened, problems (temporarily) solved.

I've been thinking about how to focus this project in order to make it book-worthy. I'm not interested in writing a how-to manual, because I'm not one for using how-to manuals myself. And I don't think it should be a motivational guide. But what came to me after class today is how there are so many pursuits that ask us to give ourselves away. Do you know what I mean? You have to give yourself over to the thing that you are pursuing; or, simply, give yourself away. Give of yourself. In a sense, I think that's what many of us are seeking out in our lives. We want to give ourselves to something greater than we alone could be.

Motherhood (fatherhood, too!) belongs in that category. Spiritual pursuits. Charity work. Mission work. Callings. Art. And, yes, the physical pursuits. And there are so many varieties of intensity. There is me, wanting to try-a-tri, or maybe a sprint. There are those who have completed triathlons, but who aren't interested in time. There are those who are shaving time off their personal bests. There are those who compete with the best, at a level quite beyond what I can imagine doing. But I don't think it all boils down to competition. There is something bigger at play, deeper, some fundamental desire to test the spirit.

I don't know whether that subject would make a book. What would my angle be? Interviews with people who have sacrificed in order to complete fairly outrageous goals? The Mother Theresas and Everest-climbers of the world? But it's the more ordinary people, the unsung, who throw themselves into new challenges at every turn in their lives, who interest me. I love reading obituaries. The ones that move me most describe lives of richness and commitment and variety. The woman who completed her doctorate while raising four children and became an expert in her field. The man who switched careers at 55. The artist who never gave up despite a life of obscurity and self-doubt.

It's a little bit Oprah. I do feel that. But I also felt, in this class this morning, that these extreme pursuits are really available to any of us--we just have to want to do it. We just have to pick the right pursuit and give ourselves over to it. (Whether or not it's possible to do that while maintaining a healthy balanced life is an open question--I would like to talk to people who manage, however it is that they manage. Maybe that's my angle.)

I'm going back to that class next week. Definitely.