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.