Swim Thoughts...

Having the nose piece to my goggles literally fall apart just as I touch the wall at the end of my last lap--must be some significance here.

Allergies in New Mexico--learning to sneeze under water.

Stretching my neck every chance I get--especially after hearing the story of the triathlete who damaged a disc in his neck after doing a 6000 yard session, resulting in weakness in one of his arms. Of course, I don't swim 6000 in a session...

Drills. Still feel as if I'm drowning.

And,

Getting excited when I pass someone in the pool, then realizing that it's pretty pathetic to take satisfaction in passing someone slower than me. It's not that I'm any faster, it's just that some poor soul is caught in a time warp bubble and the slow swimming is really just a functional illusion caused by the expansion of the universe resulting in a relative decrease in velocity.... As a frame of reference, just know that everyone swims faster than me.

As much as I know it's a lost cause, I still try...

NDT Certified!

Graduation day!

These are the people I spent three weeks with,
in a dingy Norwegian dance hall,
learning a specific neuro-rehab approach to treating central nervous impairments (e.g., stroke, brain injury, cerebral palsy).

I am now a Neuro-Developmental Technique / NDT certified therapist.
Which, in my profession, is really pretty cool.

However, better than becoming NDT certified, is what I learned in the process-and how I am using what I learned to make improvements for the people I work with.

I wanted to take the course because I work with people with significant mobility deficiencies and abnormalities--some seemingly intractable and difficult to treat--and I wanted to make more of a difference, which I can truly say I do now.
I went to the course not really knowing what to expect.
If I had known in advance how difficult the course would be, and how it would tie up my life from February through early June--I might not have done it.

But knowing what I do now, how could I ever have gone without it?

The way the course was taught, it took a long time to pull all the pieces together, integrate the concepts and information, and finally understand the big picture.

After all of the angst, sedentariness, full days in the classroom followed by late nights doing homework (with pencil and paper), now that it's done, I wish there could be more. I miss the learning and the people--and the photo (above) makes me nostalgic.

I am a changed person.

p.s. I'm front row, third from right, in the white tank top--smiling!

Where's the O2??

What do you get when you spend a week at sea level?

Breathless!!

Seriously, I can't seem to breath during exercise. I run taking, long, shuddering breaths in, and vow to myself that I will eat right, and train right, and do everything right, so long as I can get back to being able to BREATH again.

Oxygen is a beautiful thing...

I've spent 5 weeks total at sea level so far this year: 2 weeks in Florida, and 3 weeks in California. Not half weeks, or weekends, mind you, but FULL weeks. It doesn't seem like much, but the breathing part lets me know that perhaps it is adding up.

This time it seems a bit harder to recover from.
However, on the plus side, I seem to have avoided gaining too many extra pounds. Just a little spare tire around the middle (which, on someone my height, makes me look/feel like the Michelin man)...

But, I did find an article by Matt Fitzgerald that heralds a bit of weight gain as good for you during the training season.
Good for me.
I am obviously doing something right!

More weeks at sea level to follow.
This time in Hawaii.
Even if it does sabotage an upcoming race, well...
Who can blame me for going?

Sitting on a Park Bench

"Sitting on a park bench..."

Remember?

Aqualung.
Base line.
Ba da da da DAH da.
Eww.
Yuck.

I hate that song.
Always have.
There was a boy next door who used to play it in his garage.
Every day.
Like it was the only song he knew.
Which it probably was.

Recently, one of my co-workers can't seem to get it out of her head.

A few months ago she asked me to help her find the lyrics (she's learning, but still a bit technically challenged). We retrieved the lyrics, and she then added them to her arsenal of one-liners that she belts out every now and then. Silly enough, but we periodically burst into song throughout the day. We're nothing like Snow White--more like the seven dwarves, Grumpy and Sneezy. Generally we sing 70's R & B and cheesy listening, Prince, doo-wop, Ramones, whatever, and now....Aqualung.

I'm a long way out of the office now.
Gone on another jaunt to improve the technical skill of what I do.
Far enough away to get that dreaded song out of my head.

I'm completing a course I started in February of this year.
2 weeks of in class coursework, 2 months of application and homework, 1 month of application and study. And, now for the final summation and education, followed, hopefully, by graduation and certification.
In February, when I attended the initial part of this course, I spent two weeks sitting.
I gained back fat and a level of decreased fitness which took a month to recover from.

This time around, on the first day, I took a walk during the break and found a bench to sit on for lunch. It was set back from the street, in a grassy little copse.
It was worn and warped and solitary.
A perfect back drop for tricep dips, modified push ups, planks, and various poses for abdominal strengthening.

I am such an exercise-geek.
Sitting on a park bench...
Now, I can't get it out of my mind.

My Stylist

My stylist cut off over half a foot of my hair--just before he left for DC.

I told him to cut off 5 inches, then said, "No, better make that 4 inches just to make room for any mistakes."

What I really meant, was "Please cut off the damaged, dry straw at the end, but leave the good stuff.

Unfortunately, I didn't say so.

Then I pointed to some obscure place on my back--which was pretty silly on my part, since I don't have eyes in the back of my head.

So Mark, given those excellent instructions, went to work.

I figured cutting the ends of my hair would be a cinch--since by the time you get to the bottom of what I have, it's pretty thinned out and there isn't much down there.

So, after a few minutes, I got a bit impatient and said, "Aren't you done yet?"

I should have known something was up when he said, "Well, no, there's a lot of hair."

I'm not really that particular. I'd actually toyed with the idea of just clipping off the end of my braid. No matter where I go to get my hair cut, it always looks a mess, so I figured I'd just have Mark lop off the ends and be done with it.

Well, lop he did.

It took him a significant amount of time, mostly because he wanted to make sure that he did a good job, but also because he was square in the midst of the thickest part of my flowing locks--and there was a lot of hair.

When he was done and I turned around, I had to suppress my reaction at all the hair that was no longer on my head. It looked like yards, and ropes, and hanks were littered across the bathroom floor.

When we measured a random hank, it was 7 inches long.

I guess I should have known better--asking a man who seeks baldness as hairstyle.

Fortunately, hair is a renewable resource.

Better yet, I love my new hair cut.

DC Reiteration

Mark is running around getting ready for Washington DC, packing and pensive about leaving for the summer.

In the past 4 days, he's been catching up on everything he's set aside for the past several months, trying to make up for being a distracted, busy student, and get the house, cars, and us in order.

He wants to make everything the best that he possibly can.
So much so that he is focused and distracted.
So much so, that he is in danger of letting the perfect get in the way of the good.

Part of his "I'm going to fix everything before I go away for the summer" mode is being fiercely independent--wanting to take the load on his shoulders, since I've been doing most of it while he's been squirreled away with his books.

When he packs his bike, I ask him if he would like the bubble wrap and scissors.
What I get is an explosive, "NO!"
(pause)
"Well, yeah...I guess I could use some..."

Then I ask, "Do you want something to eat?"
And there it is again, "NO!"
(pause)
"Umm, I guess I'm kind of hungry..."

Finally, we simultaneously giggle at the explosiveness of Mark's "No!'s" and at the same time, Mark says, "I guess I'm being oppositional."

The rest of the day is spent with Mark saying, No, no, I really mean it. No, I'm not just being oppositional. And me just ignoring what he says anyway (which would make anybody oppositional)....

When all is said and done, Mark has a personal bag (stuffed), a carry on bag (stuffed, books, heavy), a large wheeled duffel (stuffed), and a bike box (awkward). What a load.

Of course, I get irritated and ask him why he couldn't have packed everything during the week, while I was at work, so he could sweep me off my feet on the last day we had together--but that's what Hollywood movies will do for you--give you unrealistic expectations of relationships and romance. Neither of us expected the swamp cooler to take a dive the day before, the modem to go belly up, or for Mark to spend a good amount of time in front of the computer trying to get the darn thing back on it's feet...

And, who doesn't pack up until the last minute?

My favorite example is when I flew from Hawaii to California, just so I could join my sister for a turn-around flight going back over Hawaii to Japan, where we were going to travel for almost a month. Since I only had one day in the Bay Area, I asked her to get her packing done before I got there, so we could go out and play.

Right.

When I got there, she had a giant pile of maybe's, that she hadn't sorted out yet. Somehow the decisions and packing were so difficult that she (we) were up most of the night making it happen. I had flown 2500 miles and 5 hours out of my way to join her for an all-nighter of packing--just so I could turn around the next day and almost immediately get on a flight back across the Pacific.
Not fun, and I was fried by the time we got on the flight to Japan.
But that's life.
And that's family.
And that's packing!

Airport security didn't like Mark's carry-on, and removed all of it's contents, and proceeded to send each individual item through the X-ray.
As Mark says, "So much for early check-in."
But that's life.
And that's travel.

He should be in DC by the end of the day, but he won't be done yet.
The weather report shows it's raining there and he plans on hoofing it across town on the Metro with all of his bags.
Last year, his bike got stuck in the Metro door.

I'm guessing there could be more to this story...

Sitting on my Keister...

D-r-r-at!

Just when it feels like my training is getting consistent,
and just when it feels like I am getting my fitness "sea-legs" under me,
and just when the weather is starting to get nicer (well, sort of...),
I am spending, what looks to be, about two weeks on my keister.

I spent two weeks on my keister in February.
I was in California in a dim and exceptionally drab Norwegian dance hall (think dark wood paneling, '50's style greenish linoleum flooring, and 25 watt light bulbs), learning advanced technique for neurological rehab.
I was in that room for just about 10 hours a day.
The rest of each day was spent doing hours of detailed homework.
Hours.
With a PENCIL and paper, because that's how they wanted it.

I could have done the course elsewhere, but I chose this location so I could spend time with my sister.
Hah.
She spent her time putting food in front of me, because I had so much homework each night, I couldn't take a break--and that's about all we saw of each other.

I have since found out that courses in other locations are not nearly as rigorous.
They are a week shorter and teach applied technique.
My course appears to emphasize the theoretical. By the time I am done, I will be able to expound on activation, alignment, and missing components of movement--and probably be able to propel a rocket to the moon.
But, I am not sure how my technique will be.

I sat for just about all of my waking hours.
I felt sedentary and awful.
I gained weight.
I even gained BACK fat.
It took a month of being home and getting back to work and training, to finally feel normal.

And now I am doing it again.
For the same course.
Which hasn't ended yet.
Now it's a 28 page homework assignment.
One page alone has 24 questions on it. And some of the questions have multiple sub-parts.
So, I am sitting on my keister again.
Trying to dig through and complete a massive pile of work.
All, so I can become better at what I do.

It's not quite as bad as it was in February, and I try to squeeze in what I can.

Yesterday, after a week of not running, I went out for a neighborhood jaunt from my house to the university golf course. It felt great, but my quads, suffering from dis-use, started to feel actively sore before I made it home.
However, I was OK until today, when I went for a bike ride.
Ouch.
I felt like I might not make it home, my quads were so tired and sore.

I have another 2 weeks of trying to balance homework and training.
Even though I am learning a lot, and I like what I am learning, I am frustrated at how lopsided and unhealthy my life is right now.
I can't believe I have another 2 weeks of sedentariness coming up. Plus, I have to go back for another week of actual hands-on course work.
Just thinking about it gives me traumatic stress syndrome.
I hope I come out on the other end OK.
At least, I hope I can keep off the back fat.

Spring Training II

Home, sweet Home!

3 days in Tucson, sandwiched by 2 half-days.

Perfect weather.
Especially, as it appears, we missed the wind here (dust obscured the last stretch through Las Lunas, "Is that fog?" I naively asked.
And, dry, downed branches littering the street in front of our house...).

I think I came back with a tan.
But mostly, I came back with a case of "Oouf, are my legs tired."

We made it up Mt. Lemmon.
All 25 miles.
Mostly because, even though my legs were already so-o-o tired, I did not want to have to come back for a third attempt....and because, once I get into the grind, I tend to just keep going.... and, funny enough, I like hills (I think)....stubborn, I guess you could call it.

Although, I did yell out, "I'm dying," when T passed me 5 miles from the top.

This was after miles of relentless uphill, warm Tucson weather that turned into a frigid, cold wind, and me in my bailout gear most of the time.

T passed me because 25 minutes after I started up, he called from the bottom of the hill to tell me his seat collar broke and he was going to a bike shop to fix it. I have no idea what time he started, but it was quite a bit of time after me. Being passed just made me feel slower, colder, and more tired. I'm sure it made the wind blow harder...

But then, at the top, we had a HUGE slice of cranberry-apple pie and a mushroom, bacon cheeseburger--and I was OK again....

We swam in a wonderful, sun-warmed, 50 meter outdoor pool, and an older "I think the cement is disintegrating into the water" outdoor pool (at least the water smelled like cement...).

And, we ran in the desert, playing 'garden gnome' to a group of hard driving mountain cyclists.

Plus, we had camping adventures (we ended up at the Tucson Trap and Skeet club for an overnight...).

Read some great books (The $64 Tomato--William Alexander, and Three Cups of Tea--Greg Mortenson).

And replenished with some really good microbrewery food (that was one night--the rest was camp grinds).

We could have easily spent a few more days.

In fact, T wanted to "live like a pro, and write a book about it" until we realized the pro might not be able to afford the microbrew....

Now, it's time for some really hard training.
You know. The kind you have to fit in around your work/school schedule.
Now, that's hard.

But, it really does feel good to be back home again.

Moments

Sometimes you just have to let things go.

Like tonight.
Taking care of a client's last minute concerns, becoming late, rushing to join 5:oo commute traffic, catching all of the red lights. Then finding that a one liter bottle of water had emptied out into my purse, soaking everything, including the car seat underneath. Grabbing a paper napkin to soak up some of the mess--and leaving pilled up scraps of pulpy paper all over the cloth seat.

Well.
It's just water.

Besides, I just don't have time to deal with it. The clock's ticking, you know.

Rushing into class. Aggravating the teacher without meaning to. Doing the best I can, but feeling like, "Whoops, I made a boo boo," and imaging pulling my head into my shell.
Then, letting it go.

Into the locker room. Swim bag, bike bag. Draw cords catching on everything. Pulling my ugly black swim suit out with a twinge. Two days ago, I'd left my favorite, brightly colored swim suit in the locker room, and two calls later plus one lost-and-found foray (you don't want to see what gets turned in) had turned up nothing.
So, I had to let that go, too.

Rounding the corner toward the pool, and hanging at eye level--my suit. Someone had hung it up, and two days later it was still waiting for me.
Now, that's a moment you want to hang on to.

Catching Up (or hanging on by a coat tail): 2008

I have been away from home for 4 out of the past 7 weeks.
This means that I've been living out of a suitcase, re-wearing the same clothes (mostly clean, of course), and eating a compendium of foods that I would never consider from my own dining room table.
In fact, if you are what you eat, than I am currently 58% white flour, white rice, morning breakfast pastries, insipid coffee with remarkably over-flavored hazelnut and french vanilla creamer, too-ripe bananas, and frozen this 'n thats.

4 out of 7 is just too many weeks.

I certainly hope this is NOT a prelude of things to come as a mimicry of the amount of travel that T and I did last year. (Hows that for future-past?)

In 2008 I kept wondering why I wasn't getting anything done.
I had "to do" lists that grew continuously--to the point where items came off merely by receding into the distant past,
house projects that received a little brain attention, but nothing actually hands on,
social contacts, work "extras," future planning--but that was just it--it was all planning, and that was as far as it went.

Then I did my year-end year-in-review.
Well, no wonder.

I went on 13 trips last year. T did 11.
California (3 times for me, twice for T)
Alabama (T for collegiate nationals)
Idaho (Idaho 70.3)
Florida (twice for me--work and play; once for T)
Washington DC (twice for me, an entire summer for T)
Rhode Island (T for the RI 70.3)
Texas (Austin twice for me--work and play, once for T; once each for Lubbuck)
Colorado
Arizona (three times for each of us--spring training, rock climbing and the Bisbee 1000)
and, of course, our '08 opener of spending a week on a beach in Baja, Mexico.

Interspersed with flying and driving across the states, T and I spent our "down time" participating in sprint races around the state for the SW Challenge Tri and Du series, triathlon training, working full time (me), and being a full time law student (T).

Some of this we made happen by doing silly things like returning home from Boise at 6 pm one evening, only to do an immediate turn-around and take T to the airport at 5 am the next day for his summer-time move to Washington DC.
Or, going to DC twice, California, then Austin--all in the space of 6 weeks.
Whew.

We made various high points and memories:
My birthday on Catalina island in California
Catching up with Katrina and Ben in San Diego.
Bioness L300 certification.
The Marathon Movie with the Outlaws in January.
Levi on the bike path.
2nd overall female at the Stermer Du
Sick X 10 days in February.
Sitting through that darn CPR certification
Stealth Du
Spring Training in Arizona
The Banff Film Festival at the Kimo.
AC separation March 29th with a long trip to the ER
MVTC
T's April highlights: Being able to compete in the Collegiate Triathlon Nationals after separating his shoulder and 3 weeks of physical therapy
and
being offered an internship in DC on April 25th.
Run 4 the Zoo.
Buffman & Squeaky.
End of school year BBQ with T's law school peeps.
Driving through a very green Utah to Idaho for the 70.3 June 1st.
Marketing, speaking, and spasticity clinic work.
DC fireworks for 4th of July.
Sailing on San Francisco bay in August,
Socorro Sprint,
Karaoke with the work peeps.
T came home on August 11th,
and I left the next day for a movement disorder and spasticity conference in Austin.
The F1 tri,
then the Record Challenge 40k on a miserable day.
September's weekends were Yucca Tri, Patriot Tri, Cotton Country sprint, then community outreach for a balance health fair.
October brought the Longhorn 70.3
a resumption of rock climbing and Jack's desert canyon solitude,
Yoko and Lenin,
and the start of the cyclocross season.
November we did the Bisbee 1000,
started yoga,
hit the climbing gym,
went to cyclocross races around the state,
had a coastal Thanksgiving,
then drove home in a new car.
We wound up the year with the Polar Bear Tri,
I won the SW Challenge Series for my AG,
T persevered through high-stakes final exams--one test determines your entire grade,
and then packed it up for Christmas in Colorado where we ate chlebicky and lots of other good food and I followed the conversations by immersing myself in the few Czech words I already knew...Ahoj! Jak se máš? (how are you?) Dobrý den (hello or good day). Dobrě ráno (good morning). Prosím (please). Babička (nana). Děkuji (thank you)--which, BTW, looks nothing like my mnemonic of "gecko-you."
We finished 2008 in the same way we started it--by traveling--and celebrated the New Year with dinner at Roys Hawaiian Fusion cuisine in Florida--now that was good food.

Through it all, and as always, my work was by turns unpredictable, consuming, and rewarding.

So, like I said, no wonder.

I am still recovering from 2008.

And looking forward to getting back home again...