I began today’s spin cycle workout nice and easy. While listening to a book on tape, via my iPod, I sat and spun away. I had an hour long cross-training workout in mind. My legs have recovered nicely from yesterday’s race, but there remains a bit of an ache to my low back. As I listened, I found myself smiling, laughing, and feeling sad as the story played out. Then the story began to head in a different direction. The kisses were getting more passionate and I began to wonder just how far the couple was going to take it. I hoped that the narrator wouldn’t describe all of the juicy details; I was in my work gym for goodness sake. I didn’t want to find out. I quickly switched my iPod to my favorite playlist and in doing so I intensified my workout three-fold.
I cranked up the resistance and came off the seat for a steady, sustained, standing climb. I stayed in the climb for three songs, sat down to get a drink of water, and resumed the climb. For the entire spin I thought of what it meant to be focused. I reminded myself that each workout is for a purpose, and the only way that I assure my BQ is to be focused in each of my workouts from now until June 17th. By the time I exited the bike, I was so sweat soaked that you would have thought that someone had poured a cooler of Gatorade over my head (as they had done post Superbowl win). I showered, dressed, and then ruined it all with a chicken sandwich and fries.
Testosterone and Toilets
Having a weekend rest day can only mean one thing…house cleaning. Since last weekend I figured that the bathrooms could wait, it was the natural starting point today.
Did I mention that I am the only female in a house full of testosterone? The male gender might be known for their ability to aim when hunting, or shooting the basketball are involved, but not when it comes to getting their urine into the toilet. I hate cleaning toilets for this very reason. Two weeks worth of 3-point attempts gone awry has its implications.
As I begin this, much needed task I can’t help but think of the porta-potties provided at the races. I have a half-marathon that I am running tomorrow and as much as I appreciate having a place to empty my bladder, I hate the porta-potties. First, you wait in excessively long lines to use them. When you finally get in one you cover your nose and attempt to relax enough to get the job done and exit just as quickly as possible. The mixture of chemicals and bodily fluids is disgusting. I appreciate my own bathrooms, even at their dirtiest, on race day.
As I clean my house, I listen to The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants audio book on my iPod. I’m embarrassed to admit that of all of the books I could have downloaded, this is the one I chose. I love the narrator’s descriptive voice and I enjoy listening to the totally female view of their experiences ~ even if the characters are only teenagers. Listening to the story brings me back to the time when I was younger, but more so, it makes me glad that I had boys (bathrooms and all).
Kaiser Permanente Half Marathon
Spending nearly my entire Saturday cleaning house should have tired me out. At midnight, however, I was still wide awake. I wasn’t anxious; I just could not sleep. I even took two Tylenol PM to attempt to induce sleep. It wasn’t until my youngest, who also couldn’t sleep, joined me in bed that I was able to leave my body for the land of dreams. Just a few hours later, I was awakening for my race preparations and travel to the race.
At 5 AM Sunday morning, just prior to the alarm sounding, I hoped out of bed. I wasn’t nervous about the race itself; I just wanted to be sure that we caught the bus to the start on time. Since I had set out all of my clothes the night before, I just put them on and went downstairs to eat and wait for Cindy to arrive. It wasn’t until we were arriving in San Francisco that I began to get nervous. As we drove down 19th, it felt like a race to get the last parking spots. It seemed that the majority of the cars out were filled with other runners. Having to pass the smaller parking spots, we ended up a half a mile uphill from the bus pickup. We ran down, got in a crazy long line of runners, and later boarded the bus for the start.
The day was clear and sunny. I knew I had made a grave error in choosing my clothing. I had expected the usual foggy, cold weather that San Francisco is known for. There I stood, among runners in shorts and singlet, in my tights and running long sleeved mock tee. “Just a training race,” I reminded myself.
When we first headed out, I felt awkward. I just couldn’t find my groove. Cindy was with me and we made small talk as we went. But while I love to RUN with company, I hate to RACE with company. There is an awareness of the other person that keeps me from totally focusing on myself. You hear their breathing, their steps, and maybe even their thoughts. I feel their discomfort and I just can’t find separation. So when Cindy was heading to the bushes for pee, I decided to hold mine a bit longer. I knew that even if she caught up with me, or passed me, that I would have found my groove in the meantime. I immediately felt 100% better. Less than a mile later was a huge line of porta-potties.
The race took us up and down small rolling hills. I was just too hot, so I peeled off my long sleeved shirt and gradually got used to the cool air. As I headed down the hill toward the Great Highway I was awed with the breath taking view of the ocean. I love California! This part of the race is a long, gentle climb. We run on the chopped up road towards the zoo and then turn around and head back. While it is fun to see the race leaders zooming past, it is easy to feel like all of those people are passing you.
After the turn around, I pick up my effort ever so slightly. Running on more of the shoulder of the road, the path is less torn up. It is easier to enjoy the view. I see the torture in the oncoming runners faces as they continue in the opposite direction. I remember what I felt when I was on that side of the road. I’ve only got 3.1 more miles to run and it feels good knowing this. When I make the turn back towards Golden Gate Park, I come across this young lady who groans that she hopes that she can finish. “Oh, you WILL finish,” I assure her. She is unaware just how close the finish is. I arm her with the knowledge that she has less than a half a mile to go and plow into the hill. I know the course well from here. I pick up the pace even more, and as I turn the corner and head toward the finish line I am already moving as fast as my feet will take me. I finish 1:56.
I found myself slightly disappointed in my finish time. I secretly wanted to beat my 1:50 time from two years ago. I wanted this even though I had sprinted too early in that race as I had thought the finish was at the end of the Great Highway. I had actually run VERY well. I ran, an evenly paced race, dead on at my marathon pace.
Chasing the Carrot
I was running CIM when my sister pointed out a girl, about my age, who was running just ahead of me. “There’s your carrot, Julie. Go get her,” she said in an effort to encourage me to pick up the pace. We were about 20 miles into the marathon and I was not feeling all that good. I was tired and my sister’s cheery, energetic advice was something that I didn’t want to hear, even if it was well meaning. I guess that is why I usually avoid commitments to race with someone.
I have to admit that there are times when chasing a carrot can be beneficial. Today we had an “all hands” meeting where we discussed employee satisfaction survey results and what we can do to improve it. A guy in the back speaks up and says that his direct-reports are chasing a carrot when there isn’t one for him to hand them. Someone in the front says, “who do you want to give you the carrot?” The discussion seems to be going round and round the wrong thing. What is the carrot? Is it imaginary, or is it real? Is it money, monetary gifts, or just a simple thank you? We all want it…just a bit of reward for putting in the extra effort. I just want more recognition for the accomplishments than the disappointments. We all work hard trying to make the difference between success and failure but sometimes the outcome is out of our control.
After the meeting I check my email and head to the fitness center for a 3-mile run on the “mill”. For the next 30 minutes, I won’t think of work; I’ll focus on running. I warm up for a mile with my iPod playing another book on tape that I downloaded. I keep it easy and then prepare for a couple Yasso 800s. I know it’s not the same on a treadmill but every little bit counts. I’m putting in just the little extra effort on the chase to Boston ~ my carrot. I AM chasing the carrot and I know that with a bit more tempo runs, mile repeats, and Yasso 800s, I will be crunching away on it very soon.
The Bathrooms Can Wait
If I had planned the weekend out right, I would have completed my housework on Friday. I returned home to find the same clutter, dirty clothes, and dishes awaiting me. Having done such a hard workout, my legs ached. It was a bit surprising because 11 miles is not an exceptionally long distance for me. None-the-less, my legs were feeling it. Perhaps an ice bath would have been more therapeutic, but my hot shower felt so good after today’s a run. I just sat there and let the hot water run down my back and hoped that the mess would be gone by the time I got out. It knew that it wouldn’t. Instead, I had two neighbor kids over for a play date. I started slow. I wiped the counters down, loaded the dishwasher and started it, and put a load into the washing machine. Then I ate something. I was felling a bit light headed. Afterwards, I swept and vacuumed the house. It is now time to cook dinner and finish up the weekend’s homework. The bathrooms can wait until another day, but the house is back into reasonable shape and ready for the abuse of another week.