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.