Time...

It's the last day of the year. Tomorrow is the first day of the new year.

Sometimes I wish there was a day between the two that belonged to neither. A day to sit down, take stock of the past year, and plan for the new one. But doesn't that practically require the ability to stop time? Or to add time? I recently realized part of why I love cycling is the sense I feel of time being slowed. The world is awhir about me, and there I am, rolling along. It's like being a wizard... time stands still.

2013... what can I say? I've learned a lot. I've done a lot. Sometimes I'm dissatisfied, but most of the time I'm happy. I've made wonderful new friends who've filled holes in me I didn't even know I had. I've had amazing experiences, and lousy experiences that allowed me to see the greatness in others. I've seen the world fall down around myself, around others, and realized those are the very moments we see the best in people. I've learned to be thankful in all circumstances -- a lesson I'm still working on in application -- and that I can be happy where I am. Lay down roots and enjoy where you are when you are.

2014... what will it hold? Hills and valleys, with everyone I love. More compassion. More learning. More teaching. Love. Hopefully wind at my back, but not all the time, because headwinds are the resistance that leave me hewn and strong. A gardenfull. Hugs, kisses, bananas, words, water, sweat, tears, smiles.

I wish each of you a 2014 full of the best of everything. Seek it.

Divest Yourself.

Get rid of the clutter, the stuff you don't need. The things (things, always things...) that overwhelm and stress. The things to which you cling. Just get rid of it.

I hear words like this often. Yet they seem to counter what we see every day. In a world of more, more, more, how do you realize less is more?

Today we had a yard sale. Over the past few weeks, we've been pilfering our household, slipping out items we don't need/wear/use any longer. Some of mine were clothes from long ago... not so long ago. But a whole other person ago.

I used to buy things I couldn't afford to impress people I didn't really like. I mean, I guess I liked them well enough. And I liked the clothes I bought. I like clothes that are aesthetically pleasing. But I didn't have my head on straight at the time, bought a ton of clothes outside my income bracket, and ended up realizing well after the fact it was one of the gravest choices I have ever made.

A few years later, I think I'm a different person. I don't really go shopping to kill time (isn't it weird, using money to buy something resembling happiness?), and while I like having nice clothes, it isn't paramount. In fact, when I think about things I like and things that are impressive about me, now, my outfits don't cross my mind *that* often. Clothes are fun. They're a great medium for self expression. But they're not the end-all-be-all. Ultimately, they cover your body; nice ones just make the process slightly more pleasurable.

So I decided it was time to get rid of lots of those clothes from that time in my life. It wasn't intentional. But as the customers of our yard sale kept coming up and making sure I had marked the prices right because they thought they were too cheap, I laughed to myself. They're just clothes. I don't value them highly anymore, otherwise I'd be keeping them. So why not sell them for a radically low price? They aren't doing me any good, and sometimes feel tainted with poor financial decisions. I'm not that girl anymore... on some level, they aren't my clothes.

I urge you... rethink needs and wants. I feel lighter today. A relief that those things are leaving me for good, mentally and physically.

Just Jack, Please.

For a couple months now, you guys have listened to me talking about The Ride To Jack and Back. Here's what happened...

I decided to do the short route with some friends who were also riding that day. After the trouble I've been having with my knee, it wasn't worth killing myself on Pulltight. (You know I'm not going to take it easy...) This proved to be an excellent choice. Around mile twenty, very string winds started bringing my average pace down, as my effort level skyrocketed. I caught a guy's wheel, and we traded pulls until the aid station at the Fire Codes Academy, where I ended up waiting about twenty or thirty minutes for Paul to arrive off the long route.

When we headed out, I made a comment to Paul about how I could tell I hadn't really been riding as much as I normally do. I was uncomfortable on the bike, and couldn't seem to exert any power. By the time we got to Shelbyville, I was pretty miserable. The ride from Shelbyville to Motlow was cram-packed with epic whining, ugly-I'm-about-to-cry faces and such. I'm not proud of those 15 miles. I finished though. Even if it was the worst 55 miles of my entire year of riding.

As we crossed the finish, I saw the little Hobbes-it by the road, and he came and snuggled me and told me he loved me... all was right with the world.

Now, the kicker. I had talked about not riding on Sunday, but had decided I should go ahead and at least try. When we arrived at the start line on Sunday morning, we were surprised to hear the ride back had been cancelled in light of impending inclement weather. So... butt saved from the shame of grabbing a SAG ride on the second day? I think so...

Fun with Needles: Patience and looking on the sunny side.

I don't know if I've been completely candid with you guys lately. I've been avoiding blogging, seeing people I ride with... that sort of thing. You see, I've been gimpy. Really gimpy. Like, worried I might never ride my bike comfortably again gimpy.

It was a long string of events leading up to this moment, culminating in my large-for-his-age two year old pouncing on my already very weak and slightly injured right leg and expecting me (I'm strong and tall, but I am slim and small...) to carry him out of the gym on my leg. It all started a few weeks before my century, with a spastic VMO, then the pain picked up right after my century and a couple harder rides, and there you have it. A once again disabled list Jessie. Right as I was picking up and seeing real improvement. Cue plunge into deep depression and the assumption of the worst... because in some ways, I had already experienced some terrible news about something in my body that will never be normally functioning again with my ankle last year.

After a couple weeks of whining around, I noticed Fleet Feet Murfreesboro was having an injury screening, and went to see what the PTs had to say. She checked my lateral hip strength, which is apparently non-existent. Working on that... she said she didn't think I needed therapy, though...

A couple more weeks of pain, and increasing pain in my piriformis (It sounds kind of... of questionable intent, the word piriformis. It's a literal pain in my butt...) and I've had to draw the line. Last week, I had Paul call and make me an appointment. I don't like phone calls.

Fast forward to today. I'm talking to the nurse, telling her about it. I really like the practice I use, and my doctor in particular. The staff are great, and I'm thankful for access to this group. Anyway, I go to get my xrays shortly after she leaves. A few minutes later, my doctor comes in and tells me my xrays are clear, and that he'd wager a bet I've strained my hamstring. We talk about the events leading up to it. He follows his normal poke, prod, palpate routine (he's insanely good at knowing right where to jab me to figure out what's going on... have I told you guys this???), actually causes my knee to click like it has been, and puts the puzzle pieces together.

Did you know your hamstring attaches at the front of your leg? Yeah, I didn't either. Surprise... it does. Turns out, I strained it. He said it could take up to six weeks to really improve. We discussed how it was feeling and that I felt like it was actually improving, and that I had a ride this weekend that was really important. Since I had plans, he suggested we go ahead and do a cortisone injection to speed up the healing of what ails me. I also have a new-fangled strap to wear over the fat pad that was causing the clicking.

He left the room, and Paul reminded me I should talk to him about my ankle and the state of things with it. I think you all know I haven't run since May. I don't feel a great deal of love-lost about this, but wanted to be sure I was doing the right things.

I was surprised when he came in to take care of my injection instead of the nurse; I like the one-on-one attention I receive! I made the mistake of looking at the needle before I laid down for the injection, and it was huge. When I was a kiddo, I never had any trouble with needles. Adult Jessie can barely handle them, though. I was on the verge of cold sweating... while he was performing the injection, when the mild pain combined with the fact that I was getting a shot.

While we were preparing, though, we chatted about my ankle. I told him I hadn't run since May because it was too painful, and that I was alright with that. However, the prospect of not riding was untenable. He wasn't surprised, and told me that short of reconstructive surgery, I probably wasn't going to be running again. He cautioned against it, telling me that although I'm very fit (a major compliment... this guy sees tons of athletes every day!), the recovery time was around twelve months. I've been oscillating in indecision about going ahead and just having surgery. It would be nice to not have to worry about my foot. But his advice has once again steered me away from the surgical option. Someday, it may be necessary. Right now, though, it isn't.

So... finish injection, chat a moment more, and I'm cleared to ride, particularly with the strap, and to do some exercises, most of which I've been doing, and some new ones to add to my repertoire. He said to keep working hard on quad and hip strength.

That's the thing. I try as an athlete to look at injury as my body weeding through parts of my body, telling me what's in need of more strength. Sometimes it's hard to see it that way, when I'm in the trenches and hurting mentally and physically, but it's a chance to be better, really, to be stronger. I think that's the reason for which this situation came to pass: to teach me to be optimistic and to look on the bright side. I've had some dark moments the past few weeks, but nothing like I have in the past when I was hurt. I'll get better. Patience, young grasshopper... right? Rome and fast riders aren't built in a day.

And speaking of fast riders, to add to my novel of a post, I rode my dream bike today. Congress needs to get their act together so I can be sure we're able to afford it, but I have high hopes I'll be the owner of a new road bike very, very soon :) More as the situation develops! But today, I'm thankful for my answered prayers... I'll be sustained.

A Turning Point

Please, please watch this video. If you don't, I might come shake you.

Did you watch it? Good. If not, lock your doors.

Everyone (I hope??) can probably tell you about turning points in their lives. Moments where it seems every inch of fabric in their life's story culminated in this shattering symphony where you realize more about who you are and your purpose on this earth. You may scoff at mine... you may disagree with mine. But in those moments, you "couldn't be any youer than you," and hopefully you're like me and a lightbulb clicks on in your head.

I could tell you my salvation story. It's not glittery... it's gritty. But I don't think salvation comes in that single moment, not like we would like to think. Increasingly, as a Christian, I think our salvation comes daily, not earned, but we accept it daily, living in thankful commune with God. So I can't tell you that's a distinct turning point in my life. Sometimes I wish I could. I know some of my readers don't identify, in whatever way. I'm fine with that. I don't need anyone's approval.

The true turning points in my life all happened late. One, the main one, is when I set foot on a hybrid bike with a chain that needed to be replaced, after I graduated and had been set adrift out in the wilderness that is life without purpose. I fought against the bike for a long time. I couldn't be friends with it. It was powerful. It scared me. I made nice with the bike and my place on the road when I was training for my post-partum insanity half Ironman. But you guys already knew that.

What I've never said... the bike saved me. It saved me from something lacking inside me, a lack of understanding of what I can be. It fulfills my carnal need for adventure. Like the fellow says in the video... the bike can be our greatest medicine.

But we have to let it be. We have to lose our fear... fear of the roadways, fear of pain. But isn't that the way it is with most things worthwhile? The risk of pain makes most great things what they are... love of a mate, love of a child, love of family... You can't live life insulated, afraid to hurt. Give up on the padded comfort and safety of convenience foods and your couch and all that. Statistically, it isn't safe anyway... and it's much more dangerous than the empowered alternative.

Go do something dangerous and rewarding. I challenge you, beseech you to do that today. It's Sunday. Seriously. Be an ordinary person who does amazing, challenging things. And if I can make a suggestion, do it on a bike. That's just my preference, though.

What's the weather...?

It's time for one of those state of the union sorts of posts. A little bit about what I've done lately, what I'm doing now, what I will be doing. No ridiculous suit and tie or posturing, though. My days in politics ended long ago...

My first century... fun. Uneventful, thankfully. Things got a little gritty towards the end, but I kept it upbeat, kept my cadence high, and sailed through to the end. I had good company. I hope I was good company. I saw stacked rock at at about mile 100, that mentally carried me through to 102.5. My unusual craving of the day was a big mac and lemonade. I had the latter, skipped the former.

I had a wild idea to go climb Alto the next week. Rider's high or something... a desire to not rest on my laurels. My friend convinced me we should go climb the other side of the mountain, the Sherwood climb, as well. While Alto is what I call a spiritual vision-quest sort of experience, Sherwood is extended, manageable pain that keeps giving. You're climbing a mountain... it isn't supposed to be easy. So we did that, and I descended Alto for the first time ever that day. All in a day's work!

Ever since the century, my right knee has been a little tender. I remember a conversation with the fellow at Acme during my bike refit last year, where he said he'd really like to move my seat up a little to get my legs at a better angle. I cringed at the thought, since we'd just dropped my headset all the way down. Hindsight is 20/20, right? I'm wishing I had taken his advice after I'd become a little more accustomed to my new riding position. I'm taking a few days off to let the inflammation go down, and I moved my seat up a bit this morning. I've been feeling a bit cramped as I kick over the top of my pedal stroke, and really should've taken that as a warning sign. I have a few more adjustments to make, and will take the bike out sometime next week to see how I feel. I think a road bike that is set up properly for riding out of aero position is in my very near future. Until then, RICE, some light strength training to strengthen my VMO, and off to the pool I go.

This gentle rest time came at a good time... I'm in the midst of preparing to act as the SAG lead in the Elk River Valley 100, as well as proxying for Paul as the director of food stops since he's out of town. Not too stressful, I suppose, but I'm a worrier, so I've been going crazy lately. I've enjoyed the preparations over the past few months, and want to be sure everything works out perfectly.

Speaking of bike rides, here's what I have coming up: Bike MS Ride to Jack and Back. Paul did this last year, and I drove SAG. This year, I'll be riding, pedaling over 160 miles in two days, and I'm very excited, and a little bit nervous. It's an exciting ride for me, though... I know two people who have been diagnosed with MS. One is a fellow I ride with from time to time. Stephen has refused to let MS rule his life; he's highly ranked nationally amongst cyclists, and never ceases to amaze or inspire. I can't brag about this kid enough. If you need a face and name to go with MS, and success in spite of it, he's a good one. A close family member has also faced diagnosis with MS. She has maintained a positive attitude, no matter what, stays active, and continues to pursue life as she wants it. I'm so proud of her :) These two inspire me... when my legs get tired over those two long days of riding, instead of my usual mental argument with my body and mind, I'll turn to them. They're the reason I'm riding those miles. I want them to know I love them and support them, and am fiercely proud to know them.

If you would like to donate, please visit my participant page, as linked from facebook.

And finally... in the stream of love. My thirty days of self love.

How'd it go? I don't know. I think I'm a happier, healthier person than I was a little over a month ago. I don't think self perception changes immediately. Even over thirty days. But maybe the changes in how I perceive myself were so gradual that I didn't even know myself. I do feel confident lately. I feel that my future is bright. I feel like I can tackle things. I feel trust for who I'll be in the future, so that I don't have to rush to be her. That's not to say I don't have dark days; I can't change that aspect of who I am. I am naturally a doubter, particularly when it comes to myself. But I can't fight that... that's part of me. If this psychological exercise has taught me anything, it's to be accepting of myself, flaws and all. I think that's the intent. Not to necessarily see yourself in a better light; no one is perfect or always good. To think that would be a lie. I think this was designed to learn to love who you are, good and bad. And that is what I've learned.

Shut up.

Right now: Shut up, mind.

Saturday: Shut up, legs.

See, I like to do crazy things on the bike. Really... time spent on two wheels is time well spent.

But this weekend, I'm doing something crazy. I'm riding my first century. 100 miles. ONE HUNDRED.

I should've read 100 Years of Solitude as a leadup. That way I could have some humorous diversionary tactic in my mind, of the Aurelianos and the girl who eats the dirt. But no... no.

I've done several metrics this summer, and one a little longer. The one that was a little longer went the best. I'm quite optimistic about Saturday. But that little voice in the back of my head is telling me, "No. This is going to hurt. You don't want to do this."

So what do I tell myself when, probably around mile 75 or 80, it gets really gritty? I'll be telling my mind to shut up, and my legs to get with the program.

I can't fail now, anyway, barring a freak blizzard or monsoon, or serious injury. I'll finish, and the next time I do it, I'll think, "Hey, that wasn't so bad."

Go get it, folks.

In the midst of my thirty days... The Slow Trajectory

I think you guys caught my drift a few weeks ago... right? I like (most of) how I look now. There are things about my body I can't change, like my upper lip and my thighs. But I wouldn't look like me without my upper lip. And my thighs are my best accoutrement on the bike, because more muscle mass = more power, generally speaking.

There are things about me that drive me crazy though. Lack of career success. Lack of racing success. It frustrates me sometimes... Then I'm reminded that I work hard to follow the path less traversed.

The other day, I was thinking about a situation that happened about three years ago. I was working a dead-end job, making my student loan payments, and frantically searching for a real job. I was grasping at straws. I had been since I graduated. I was applying for jobs that didn't excite me, and a few that did. I got lots of interviews for the former, yet nothing happened, even when I was highly qualified. And for the latter? Nothing. No interviews. No phone calls. Nothing.

I couldn't figure it out.

Now I'm happy with the way things turned out. I'm enjoying seeing who I've evolved to be, and I tend to think the person I am under my current circumstances is better than the person I would have been under those other circumstances. Dave Matthews questions, "Could I have been anyone other than me?" And sure... I could've. But I think my slow-trajectory course fits me well. It has allowed me and my understanding of the world, my intelligence and emotions, everything about me, to grow, to become... more. More empathetic, more learned, more driven. It has taught me that slow, hard work wins out over quick fix solutions, and that our lives are not a singular destination, but a path and journey.

I used to lament what I felt were failures. Failures to excel. Failure to find a career like you're "supposed" to do after you graduate. Life milestones.

Then one day, my friend told me that, "Work will always be there."

And she's right. I haven't failed. I have the rest of my life to achieve. Right now, I think my job is to just be. Be me. Be fun. Be whatever I want. And enjoy it. To be patient, to be kind, to be in love, to learn. I can't have a lifetime of achievement if I hit my high note too early. This is my chance to love myself, where I am, to grow in love, to become who I'll be when the next stage rolls around.

The Dalai Lama says:

“If there is no solution to the problem then don't waste time worrying about it. If there is a solution to the problem then don't waste time worrying about it.” 

Greg LeMond, notably the first really great American cyclist, has this to say on the subject of achievement:

"I have always struggled to achieve excellence. One thing that cycling has taught me is that if you can achieve something without a struggle it's not going to be satisfying."

I often get frustrated with who I am, right now. I am impatient with me today, and can't wait to be me tomorrow. But I can't be who I will become tomorrow without lovingly nurturing who I am today. I can't separate the two. They are intertwined... so why not love myself today? I'm great today. I'm who I'm supposed to be today. Who I am today is not a problem to be solved, but a challenge to be met, day after day.

 Love yourself. Where you are. Right now.

What if we've had it wrong all along...

"It is never too late to start."

If you don't start today, it is not too late tomorrow to begin taking care of yourself. And if you're lucky, you will find a source of satisfaction SO MUCH DEEPER than just "exercise," that your perspective on your life and the rest of the world will be positively affected.

- Ed Shepherd, Strava Cycling Ambassador

What do you do? Why do you do it? What drives you? What makes your alarm go off in the morning?

What do I do? I cycle. (Those of you who know me well are aware I'm a triathlete in diaspora.)

Why do I do it? I enjoy the challenges (usually) of going on adventures under my own propulsion.

What drives me? Health, sanity, being a good role model for The Hobbes-it, friendship, romance, satisfaction derived from sheer misery turned results. A million little things that add up to the experience. It breaks me some days, it makes me cry sometimes, but I'm always a better person because of that experience.

What makes your alarm go off? I have the pleasure of being a stay-at-home mom. I'm more flexible in my training schedule than the average bear, as a result, but when I do have to rise early, it's typically for a long ride, or a short ride before The Husband heads to work.

Here's where I'm headed with this: are your goals derailing your routine? Are you just working out to lose weight? Does every workout just feel like simple exercise? An exercise in burning calories? 

If losing weight and being healthy is built around running for a specified time on the treadmill every other day for the rest of my life, I can see why people fall off the wagon and hate to exercise. I get it. I used to be that girl.

I was at war with my body, trying to whip it into submission. I counted carbs and skipped lunch, and thought if I could just go torture myself on the treadmill a little after work every couple of days, I could fit into the jeans I wanted to wear. I did yoga... that was my sole foray into the world of real health.

I thought I was healthy, really. I didn't know I was in denial about every single thing my body was meant to do. 

I don't care what you believe; your body is a temple.

Flash forward. Paul was training for a half Ironman. For years, I had been aimlessly feeling around the world of nutrition, not knowing what I needed to do. Western diets felt wrong. But nothing else felt right. I kept trying on different nutritional hats, as I trained for a sprint triathlon, pseudo-seriously, for the first time ever. I had begun to make the connection that I had to fuel my body to perform, but still never got the nail on the head. Then, I performed poorly in the race, in spite of my improvements in nutrition and training. Turned out, I was pregnant. 

Motherhood, while the downfall of lots of women, was my catalyst. I struggled to successfully breastfeed. Increasingly, I realized I was struggling because of nutrition. As the real kicker, I was training for my first half Ironman at the same time. I was released from doctor's supervision two weeks early, and immediately began working toward my goal that night, swimming laps.

By the morning of my race in October, I had learned a great deal about myself. Emotionally, mentally, I tend to be frail; I avoid conflict, procrastinate, and my willpower can get mushy. Physically, I had realized I could largely tell genetics and culture, and every other possible influence to EFF OFF. Before, I hadn't known my body was powerful, and certainly hadn't known how to harness that power. That day, crossing the finish line, 70.3 miles later, nine months after I gave birth to our baby boy, I was a different person from who I had been in the past.

Exercise became pleasure. Hard work became my substance. My desire to be better (better than myself yesterday...) surpassed the desire to be thin. Over the months and years since, I have evolved. The war with my body? Over. It won, its victory seen in the goals I had wanted all along, and thought I could never achieve. And while those physical presentations of my inward goals (speed... I can't get enough, and always want more. That's my battle now...) are great, my inward goals surpass anything of vanity. And here's the great part... I *like* the way I look in the mirror now, when I take the time to look.

So what drives you? Do you want something other than mere vanity? If you're just exercising, and loathe every moment of it, I suggest you look past the outward goals, and find what kicks your ass out of bed in the morning, what captures your attention and drives you toward excellence. It doesn't have to be competition... that's not it for me, at all. You don't have to ride a bike, or run, or swim. You don't even have to do yoga or strength training, though I recommend those above all else. But whatever you do should make you a better person, someone who loves others, someone with compassion, who wants to leave the world a better place than when you found it. Do something with your body that makes you feel powerful in a peaceful way.

Thirty Days

"And these are what make man great / His ladder to the stars" - Timshell, Mumford and Sons

A new kind of challenge for myself. One of the mental variety.

Sometimes (often times...), I'm far too hard on myself about one thing or another. I feel like I don't measure up to the expectations of others, or particularly myself. I've always said I should be willing to hold myself up to these standards, because no one else will.

But who am I fooling anymore? I'm not in school. There's no standard of excellence in my world, no 4.0 GPA, not scale of pay. As an adult, doing is excellence. Action is betterment. This doesn't mean giving up is ever an option, or not trying to do my best.

A couple days ago, I started a challenge that I feel the need to tell you guys about. It's a challenge to grow in love with who I am, so that when I reach my goals, I can love who I will be. Because, if I'm not satisfied and really, truly, head-over-heels crazy about who I am now, why would I be happier with myself when I reach my goals? Whether it be career, fitness, or appearance related, why would those things make me any happier than me, now, here, where I sit?

I happened upon this idea in a documentary, Hungry for Change. What good does it do me to nurture my body, and to leave my heart and soul untouched? It has to be a relational change, so I can grow to be who I will become.

You are precious. You are loved.

I'm reminded of the verse, "I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well." Psalm 139:14

Don't like the Bible? Great... you are an exquisite rendering of all biology, physics, chemistry, and history. We are the culmination of thousands of years of regenesis of star dust, with the superior ability to think and to do. You are worth loving. Think about it.

When we love ourselves, we can love others more greatly.

So, for thirty days, I will look in the mirror twice daily. I will tell myself I love myself. I will say:

"I accept myself unconditionally, right now."

You should try it too. 

It seems like it should be simple. And yet, do we really love ourselves, where we are?

I'm not perfect. I screw up. I get angry. I feel like I'm not the best at climbing hills on the bike. I burn dinner from time to time. I yell at my child. I yell at my husband. But I have to love myself now. Life is far too short to spend my days frustrated with who I am, and frustrating those around me.

It starts now. Loving myself. Loving who I am, so I can better love others, and love who I am to become.

Nothing of particularly serious nature.

I have a confession. Two, actually.

I'm skipping today's workout.

I partly skipped so I could watch the season finale of... Awkward. It's my latest guilty pleasure of the television sort.

But whyyyy?

Today's workout fell by the wayside because of Bonnaroo-related insanity, mostly. And a sick little Hobbes-it. I went and lifted early this morning, since the wee one was sick... I had intended to do an interval-type workout on the bike today, this afternoon sometime. But when I saw the Bonnaroo traffic, realized how hot it was, how tired I was, and really, how underfed I was, I said I'd do it on the trainer in the pain cave. And then forgot to turn on the window unit in the pain cave. When I opened the door to the bonus room, it was blazing.

"Why didn't I hop on the trainer downstairs in the living room," you might ask? Then I could watch my indulgent show and ride at the same time? My answer, which is merely a poorly disguised excuse is that I didn't want to risk waking the Hobbes-it.

So I just found myself sitting on the couch, watching Awkward. and getting wrapped up in the fact that now I have to wait MONTHS to see what happens with Jenna and Colin. I may explode with anticipation before then.

And tomorrow, off to Bonnaroo. To watch good bands, eat wonderful to the taste buds/terrible for me food, imbibe the spirits of fun, and to swim at some point...

Are you going out to the field this weekend? What bands are you crazy to see? For me, Calexico tops the list... as well as David Byrne and St. Vincent, and innumberable others I currently can't recall. Mom of a toddler brain.

And that's it for the ramble. Good weekend to you guys :)

Psychological Yoga

I'm learning to be flexible. I'm learning that outside of my expectations, there's room for improvement, room to excel, room to have fun. When I'm trying to flex inside of the box of what I think is supposed to happen, I run out of space, like the guy in Dr. Seuss' One Fish Two Fish... whose bed is way too small. That's not comfortable. I don't want to have to just stick my head out the head hole or my legs out the leg holes.

I won't lie... these setbacks with my ankle have the potential to be heartbreaking enough to send me on a bender where I eat cinnamon rolls with reckless abandon and drink before dinner. But only when appropriate. Not being able to reach my goals in running bites.

On the other hand, my non-running-specific fitness is through the roof. I'm tackling things on the bike I never thought I could or would. Pullup May was a failure in the data-driven world in which I exist. But Pullup 2013 is a huge success; negative pullups are the latest things on my plate, and I can tell real pullups are just around the corner. I'm fine-tuning what I do in the pool, thanks in large part to The Husband's pool torture regimen. While I already had knowledge of what I was supposed to be doing, it's amazing what a difference it makes when your form is at its peak.

My lack of a regimented training plan has proven to be a good thing. I'm able to do fun rides and such I would never have time for if I was seriously training for races. Today, I was lucky to be able to go out and ride easy with good friends, find ourselves lost as last year's Easter egg, talk to animals, grab lunch together, and spend the afternoon hanging out with my little family. The Hobbes-it is learning to act like a chicken... if that won't brighten your day, nothing will.

I was driving back home from Murfreesboro on the interstate, and found myself thinking it's a little strange that just a few hours before, I had been on the other side of the tree line, pedaling along, yelling at some loose cows. The latter is vastly preferable! Increasingly, the bike is one of my favorite places to be. It baffles me that people don't *like* the sense of accomplishment that comes with self propulsion at higher and higher rates of speed. There's nothing like it.

The evolution of my character while stranded on The Island of Limited Running is good. Great. Fantastic.

You've gotta be flexible and uncontained like water. Otherwise you'll be swept away. Or maybe just in a drinking glass. Either way, the consequences are no good. Chase your goals; but be ready to take the path less travelled.

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference." - Frost

Creativity!

I can't tell you how many times I find myself crawling around my house for ten minutes or more, looking underneath furniture for our Quad Baller. It's our household foam roller... if you're an endurance athlete, I'm sure you've had some experience with these trigger point therapy torture devices. However, if you're not one of that set, the video to the right shows the process.

Do you want me to lie or be honest? Honesty is the best policy... foam rolling tends to be sheer misery under your own hand. But it works. Its function is a very high intensity massage to bust apart any lingering ickiness (to use a broad term to address all possible intents) in your muscles after training. It's particularly useful on the illiotibial band (the tissue connecting your hip and outer knee), but is also great on calves and just about anywhere it'll fit with those roller blade wheels.

So... flash to about 9:00 PM last night. Paul had gone to the store to pick up hummus and some bagels for his impromptu race breakfast. I had just finished stretching out my pretty tender ankle (I didn't finish a run on Thursday because of soreness...) and was searching in vain for the Quad Baller. Our tends to disappear. Because here's the real kicker... toddlers and babies love this implement! The Hobbes-it thinks it's his very own toy. Sometimes it ends up in his toy box...

After about ten minutes of searching, I sent Paul a message... he didn't know its whereabouts either. Continue search.

Happen upon this little magical wonder of trigger point massage:
















That's right... a raquet ball. That little guy fits right in the crook of my ankle where it hurts the worst! So, a few minutes of propping up and pressing my body weight on my new tool, as I rolled it up and down my sore tendon, and I felt pretty good. It's the best method I've found for massaging this sore tendon. I also rolled it around underneath my foot to loosen any tension in my arch/heel.

I'll give this a chance to work some magic. I've been reading more and more about the Graston technique and how it can seriously alter major sports injuries and take them back to a point where it's like it didn't even happen. That, ice massage, and a few other radical (by radical, I mean strange and sometimes painful...) massage therapies are now on my radar. I'm strong now, but not 100%. I'm being patient; I know it can take a long time for my injury to fully heal and leave me (at least close to) pain free. But if there's some less mainstream method I can try to speed the process, I may try it.

Happy rolling :D

The Update

The last time I posted, I discussed some fitness goals. Here's how all that fleshed out:

The Great Pullup Challenge...

I still can't do a full pullup. It isn't for lack of trying, though. I stuck to a pretty challenging regimen of assisted pullups and lat pulldowns.

However, I wouldn't say my big challenge wasn't a success; quite to the contrary. Yesterday, I went climbing for the first time since I began my efforts to be able to do a pullup. I was flying up routes on which I had previously stalled. I even did some declines.

Another place I can tell a difference in performance as a result of the Pullup Challenge is in the pool. My muscular endurance is definitely improved.

There's also the added bonus of slimmer arms and a more toned back. You'll never hear me complain about things like that!

The Time Trial

I ended up not attending the TT. I found out one of my best friends from high school was graduating with his Bachelor's degree, and I didn't want to miss the occasion. I knew all too well how hard he had worked...

I'll do one later in the year, when I have had a little more time to train well. I went out last week for a practice run, and averaged 20 mph over a pretty windy course. I was pleased as punch. Hopefully I can push that average up a little more as the summer proceeds and actually perform well at a race.

I worked hard the past few weeks to get to this point, and can attribute my success to weekly intervals of varying styles, and going out for long rides on the weekends. Even when the weather wasn't the best. And The Sufferfest, from time to time.

So What Now?

What's coming up next? The Mach Tenn Triathlon, which I feel like is one of the premier races in our area. The run course is one of the most challenging of any races I've done... it always puts me through the ringer. I've been running it every other weekend for a few weeks now. I'm hoping that prepares me well for a better run this year.

I'm not holding out high expectations for that, however; I'm still running very conservatively, in an effort to protect my ankle and let it heal well. I'm close to 90%, but still worry sometimes. Dr. Johnson pulling my heel out from my foot and pointing out how loose it still is resounds in my head... So I'm still getting used to being patient and working with my body as it is. I'll get there (wherever there is...), but can't expect the same speed of results as I've seen in the past. And I'm becoming okay with that.

Also... my bestie is getting married in TWO WEEKS! It doesn't seem possible that I'm married, much less her... I still often feel like we're just kids, even though I know we're well beyond an age where we can be considered just a couple kids. But I love her dearly, and wish her and her great choice in a guy all the love and happiness I can imagine :)

And then, in the fall, we're venturing to NYC for Paul to run in the NY Marathon! I seriously can't wait to get the heck out of Dodge and be someplace different for a while...

"This is not the future, but I sense it's right out there..."

- "Wind and Walls," Tallest Man On Earth

New month, new goals.

I started logging workouts in RunningAhead again yesterday. It's always a challenge for me to make sure all my workouts get logged. I'm very focused on improvement, so I suppose I need the data so I can track my progress. I view it as a hassle, but here goes nothing. (Note: I know I'm on Strava, but I never take the time to log anything there, especially since I'm currently GPS free. Bear with me.) Really, this shouldn't be so challenging any longer, what with my rigid commitment to my food journal.

Next, next, next... By May, I'd like to be able to do a single pullup. Just one. That's all I'm asking for.

What am I doing to address that goal? Lots of pullups on the assist machine (including climbing-related variations with uneven hands on different holds...), lat pull downs, and even hanging (by my hands, not on the crazy ab contraption whose name I can't recollect) ab work. I swam today for the first time in forever, and I could definitely feel yesterday's workout while I was in the pool. Frankly, I feel it all the time. I'm sore... but that's a good thing :)

I'm mostly doing this so I can be a better climber, and also be fitter. But I think I'll see improvement in the pool as a result, which is a definite blessing in disguise. I can use all the help I can get...

Otherwise, I have the time trial on the horizon, as well as a triathlon off in the distance. But as to fun fitness goals, I guess pullups are it. For nowwww.

mileage.

Yesterday, I ran farther than I've run in months. I'm really, really slow. But that's okay. I'll get there. My ankle is relatively pain free this week, easing up from the past two weeks of pain ranging from intense to minor. But none of it as bad as it was six months ago. I can also handle these mild episodes under the assumption that I'm not doing any serious damage and that eventually, as they are fading and becoming less in occurrence and intensity, these incidences will become negligible.

I head to the doctor tomorrow to find out what the final prognosis is. I'm reasonably confident that he'll release me, given that I run in my brace. I don't think my ankle is ready to go without. So... two for the money, three for the show... or whatever that good luck thing is.

In other news, I'm thinking about doing something crazy, something I've been wanting to do for a while. And why not now, as I ramp up my training? I've been wanting to try a shorter time trial for a while... given, I'm currently out of shape on the bike. I have a lot of work to do to put in anything resembling a decent showing. I'll still get my little butt kicked. It should be fun, though :) I'm ecstatic!

I'll be undertaking the seven mile Berry Peddler Time Trial in May, unless something crazy happens to prevent my presence. So I think that means that as soon as I get through this week of higher running commitment in one piece, I'll be spending a lot of time on good ol Bikey!

Why I Love to Run.

Paul and I were talking about this a couple days ago, and I think it begs to be said: I love to run. Don't get me wrong. I have good days, and I have bad days. I'm not particularly fast. But there's nothing like it.

I often hear others say they only work out because of how they feel afterwards. Or that they do it to look good. Sometimes that's me, but most times, I'm just doing it because I enjoy it.

My love affair with running started in high school. I was a pudgy girl. A friend of mine returned from summer break, newly slim and lovely, and I asked what she had been doing. She told me she picked up running that summer. I was baffled... "Running?" I asked. I couldn't grasp how she could run very far. As our conversation continued, she told me she would run out, and run as far as she could without feeling too tired to turn around and make it back to her house.

Intrigued, I decided to try it. The most running I had ever done was around the basketball courts in elementary PE and chasing after balls in softball games. I put on my running shoes my parents had bought me for softball practice indoors, and set out to run to a bridge maybe a quarter mile away. I kept going... and going... I'm sure it wasn't that far, but back then, running captured my soul for the same reason it does now.

There's something... earthy... spiritual... about transporting your body across the earth. I can imagine my very distant ancestors traversing the world by foot, exploring, looking for new things to see, places to live and find food, walking and running. It's primordial. It's real. It's something buried deep within the fabric of who I am. I love it.

Running has gotten me through many a rough spot. Break ups. Personal struggles. Post-pregnancy, I'm a mom and I don't know what to do with myself blues. It's shown me that I have a bang-up work ethic and that I am pretty damn tenacious when I want something.

I'm a long way from the girl running to lose weight. Lots of times now, I run with the intent of being able to increase my aerobic capacity. My personal favorites are short, hard interval workouts to build anaerobic capacity. But lately, as I come back from my injury, I'm rediscovering running, remembering why I love it, and I think it's worth doing. If I only perform the activities I do with the intent of getting faster, what have I gained?

As I proceed through the busy race season, I need to stay centered, balancing my love for the sport with my love of speed. There's a girl in me who really has fallen back in love with running... I'm sure as the summer wears on, I'll begin to see it as a chore, but right now, I'm ready to get the party started :)

A Few Rambling, Happy Odds and Ends

It's Friday. And my toddler is sleeping. Down the rabbit hole we go, for the express purpose of a catch-all post to talk about a few different things...

Thanks to a few different sources, I have become Everest obsessed. Realistically and figuratively. In the very real sense, I know I will never climb Everest... or any of the Himalaya for that matter. This all probably started years ago, when I had my teeth removed before my braces were installed. In both instances, my mother and I would leave the dentist's office and drop by the local video store. One of those trips, I picked up two movies that forever changed how I look at the world. One was Seven Years in Tibet. My brother and I still intentionally misquote a line from the movie where Pitt's character is sitting in the train as, "It's Princess Leia!" (Actually, "It's the Himalaya!") For a kid filled with wanderlust, this movie captured so much of my imagination. (I always think of wanderlust as this huge, wonderful, beautiful, melancholic emptiness inside my chest. It looks like the plains in Texas. And it can only be sated and filled with new places and things, far and near, large and small.)

More recently, friends have contributed to my book list with recommendations for books like Into Thin Air by Krakauer. Which has fed into watching every blessed documentary about Everest, K2, and the like I can find. I've always loved mountains. I grew up obsessed with them, looking out to the outskirts of El Paso and seeing them loom in the distance. Obsessed. So now, here I am, thirty, and longing for the capstones of the earth, wishing only to see them...

Perhaps that has fed into my latest sports affinity in some way. For Valentine's Day, Paul and I went to the indoor climbing gym. It was my first time, and I knew I'd either loathe or love it. And of course, I loved it. It's high. Which makes my heart beat hard. I had the expectation it would be in a bad way. But it's good. I like the mental challenge, combined with the physicality. Paul still kicks my butt. It's teaching me to be sure of myself and to trust myself.

And finally, in a right hand turn at a four way stop from where we were, I find myself compelled to address what I've been doing with my hair. A little history: for almost ten years, I've washed my hair four times a week at most. Sometimes I might go a month. This worked for me for a long time. Until the past six months, probably. I started feeling like whether I washed my hair or didn't wash it, it looked terrible. Lackluster, flat, frizzy... and no good solution presented itself.

About a month ago, I was on the verge of getting my hair cut. I was mostly holding out for my best friend's wedding in May, then it was all going to have to go. I happened upon something about the no-poo method on pinterest, and went from there. A month later, my hair looks *good*. It looks healthy, it's growing well. My hair has never looked like this when it's long...

No-poo is easy and ridiculously cheap. Baking soda to wash your hair, and recommended for conditioning is vinegar. I've had a tough time reconciling myself to the vinegar. I struggled for the first couple weeks with a vinegar smell emanating from my locks when I was working out, and I didn't feel like I was getting the conditioning I needed. In the end, I've returned to conditioner. Now, though, I use it just on the very tips of my hair, and eventually I'll drop it entirely. My sole complaint is that in the period of normalization that is necessary for your hair to balance its oil production, your hair looks pretty rough. But it's worth it. I promise. Just as all things that are hard are worth doing, so is this :)

The Race.

I've been watching my life, and the lives of my loved ones lately. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that life is full of challenges. These challenges will shake you to your core. I always like to think the things I learn out on the road and in the water are applicable to life itself.  And I suppose they are.

Life is about endurance. At the beginning of most races I've decided to do, most often during the swim, I regret making the choice to don my kit and goggles that morning. But as I keep going along, I muddle through the misery to find things aren't that bad after all. I often think the beauty of endurance sports is finding our outer limits and pushing through them. That's true on a grander, macro-level scale. But a race is composed of tiny moments where we continue to push through pain, doubt, frustration. Those are what make the race.

Why do we delve deep into our nature, our spirit like this? Because that's how you make it through. Through to the moments where whatever you are doing feels good again. Regardless of the choice you make, you are seeking your limits and exploding through them, as long as you keep moving forward. You can't change a crappy swim, just like you have no control over the millions of bad things that happen in your life. Innumerable times, the things we have control over, we screw up anyway. We're humans, not God. We're designed to mess up everything.

So you messed up. You ran out too hard out of transition. You have to carry that with you for the rest of the race. That doesn't mean you can't keep going and finish strong. It's your race to worry about, to tinker with, to mess up, and to push through. No one else's. Sometimes we get flats, have wrecks, or get chafing... sometimes life deals us a hand that's challenging. I see people who kill it daily. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. In spite of their challenges.

Where am I going with this? We all have bad things happen. In real life, just like in races. Life is what you make of it. Take the bad, and turn it into good.

Uh huh.

On the other side of that lights out misery known as being a runner-cyclist-swimmer with an injury, I'm slowly returning to something resembling normality. I have setbacks, but that's just an opportunity for a comeback.

Which, of course, leads my mind to this gem:

"Don't call it a comeback... I been here for years!"

Okay... I'll spare you guys more of my terrible taste in hip hop. (To the hip, hop... agh... okay, sorry.)

The past couple of days have been breakthrough days for me with workouts. Yesterday, I went out for two miles and ended up with three. Today's swim felt pretty good, too, and included my longest interval since my injury, a 400. Not an earth shattering distance, by any measure, but a good length for me.

The bike is still sheer, slow, painful right now. I've lost between 2-3 mph. It's KILLING ME SLOWLY. I've gotta get faster. I tell myself repeatedly that I'm riding in some of the coldest, windiest conditions I've ever braved, weather that would've retired me to the warmth of the sofa and some Downton Abbey in the past.

Yet I feel strong. My quads have never looked like this.

And then there's the weight business. This is where I'll be as real as real can be.

I started religiously counting calories at the beginning of the month. I lost four pounds in about two weeks.

I've since gained two of that back. Out of nowhere.

And then I ate a piece too many of pizza tonight. I'm still under my calorie limit. But working out doesn't negate terrible nutrition.

So I'll keep this counting up. May as well... at least I know what I'm eating.

In other news, the cutest, surliest toddler on the planet, The Hobbes-it turns two Friday. TWO! TWO!?!? Can this truly be possible? Someone slow that kid down.

Hoppy New Yuuurrrr!

Resolutions:

Avoid negative projections regarding the thoughts and actions of other people.

Language clean up.

Mindfulness... body, mind, spirit.

Positivity - be the change you want to see.

So what does the year hold? We shall see.

I ran yesterday for the first time in weeks. 1.5 minutes on, 1.5 minutes walking, for two miles. I'm still supposed to wear my brace... but still, no pain :D I feel a little like I'm learning to run again. I find myself constantly running a mental checklist on my biomechanics. Am I driving through my stride? Is my knee dropping in? Where are my feet falling? So much to think about... for reference, I think about the finishing sequences I see on TV of pros crossing the line, how they're running tall and not letting their hips drop. That's what I want to look like.

Christmas has come and gone... so has NYE. So now there's the open expanse of January, flying in a holding pattern until something happens. It's the Tuesday of months... except for the fact that it's punctuated by a special little boy's birthday :) Then there's Paul's birthday and Valentine's Day in February, and it's all downhill from there, into the sweet relief that is March, with it's warming, longer days and springy rain showers. But January... January... a whole month of my body screaming for something to do, for the challenge of sweltering sunshine.

But January isn't all bad... it's a time for planning. Planning the year ahead, with finances and training, trips and fun. And as I sit around and plan for the coming year, something beckons to me. Deep inside, I find myself yearning for the slow, gentle pain that comes with hours on the bike, on foot, in the water, as each discipline further molds my character and body. As I plan for races in 2013, I'm considering passing up one great opportunity to pursue something a little different. Nationals or Half Ironman? I'm oscillating toward the latter... I have a little longer to make my decision, which will depend largely on the progression of my recovery from recent injuries, but right now, I'm lusting after 70.3 more miles of swimming, biking, and running.