Joy Vs. Sloth

My two close buddies. Who's winning?

Saturday morning was pure joy. It was spectacular, despite the fact that the humidity was 120% and the heat index near 100F.

It was brick time at Haine's Point with my new triathlete peeps. On the agenda: Bike: 1 hour 30 minutes, run 15 minutes.

As I was driving to the Point at 7:30, I saw all the marathon running groups out—and the runners already all looked like death on a stick. I seriously hoped that they'd been out running since 6 a.m., and not, like since 7:15.

I rode with J and she taught me about 50 different things about biking and triathlons. Like how to keep my cadence up (or down) and how to turn corners (inside knee up and out), how to shift and when, and how to turn the pedals (seriously--you use a "scraping" motion toward the bottom of the circle. Who knew?)

Despite the fact that the humidity that was so thick you couldn't see the Potomac River 50 feet away through it, it was heaven.

Cuz on the bike? You make your own breeze! Plus? You're sitting down! It's all good!

I attended a nutrition clinic put on by the club on Thursday night, and I don't remember everything but I DO remember the nutritionist saying 24 oz of fluid every hour. (Can that be right?) Whatever. I went to the bike store Friday night and bought a second water bottle cage, like all the Big Kids have, and in a fit of superior bike mechanic skills, attached it myself. Right. Side. Up.

Go me.

So we did 21.6 miles (almost a marathon!) in 1 1/2 hours. And then there was the run, which was sucky, but only lasted 15 minutes. Just call me Jeanne "I can do anything for 15 minutes" McCann.

This was the joy part. I look forward to Saturday mornings all week long (even as I continue to make myself sick with anxiety each Friday night. Some things never change). I get to hang with a terrific group of people, and pretend to talk smack. (Look! I'm already someone's 'inspirational nemesis'. Ha ha. Watch your back, buddy.)

I meet someone new every week and they are unfailingly the most fun, encouraging bunch I have ever met. I get to talk tri stuff ad nauseum with people who don't roll their eyes.

I get to leave work and worries far far behind.

It's joy. Pure and simple!

I remember Saturdays when I was marathon training. I would come home after a three- hour run and would be seriously useless for the rest of the day. If not the weekend. But this training doesn't physically render me useless. In fact, I felt pretty damn good after I got home and downed some chocolate milk for my recovery drink.

Until I remembered that a) I don't drink milk, and b) I'm off sugar!

Sigh.

I spent the rest of Saturday in a veritable orgy of sloth, (and I'm blaming the chocolate milk), on the couch, where I watched every single episode of...wait for it...

MAN VS. WILD!

From which show I learned how to eat spiders and slugs, build a fire with a flint, scale a flat rock face by stovepiping, avoid a flash flood, tell the difference between freshwater and saltwater crocodiles, when and whether to drink your own pee...need I go on?

The premise of the show is that the host, Bear Grylls (could that possibly be his real name?), international man of mystery, gets dropped in all sorts of inhospitable places, like say, the Australian outback (not the restaurant) and then has to survive using only his wits. This is supposed to help YOU, the viewer, just in case you ever find yourself stuck in the Australian outback during the dry season out of water. And food. And you don't happen to have a film crew with you.

A little more about the Bear:

In June 2005, Bear broke a world record by hosting a dinner party at a table suspended below a hot air balloon at 24,500 feet. He rappelled from the balloon's basket to the table, where in full naval uniform he ate a three-course meal before saluting the queen and skydiving to earth. His goal was to support the work of two charities: the Prince's Trust and the Duke of Edinburgh's Award.

(Dude, write a check next time!)

It's oddly...addictive.

So, no joke, I watched it all day. Except for when I took a break to ... NAP. Then I woke up and watched some more.

Finally I went to bed.

Tally:
Joy 20%
Sloth 80%

Bear, I'm sorry to break it to you, but I might have to revisit how we spend our time together.

National Half Marathon Race Report

...And then, from seemingly out of nowhere, I summoned up the strength and speed my training had been lacking all winter, to cruise through the finisher's chute in 2:20, a PR!!!

Ha ha, I got you, didn't I.

Well, the National Half Marathon is this coming Saturday, and I'm not feeling it. I'm extremely pretending that it's no big deal, that I'm not going to mind IN THE LEAST if I finish in 3 hours, that it's a training run (for what, I don't know), that my damn PF isn't actually getting worse, blah blah, etc.

Saturday was our last "group" training run. Such a pity that I started out so young and full of dreams!

Over the course of the past few months, our group (the so-called "slow" group, not that my peeps know the meaning of the word) dwindled to a total of four: our coach, two young chicks, and me. The two other chicks ran their half, the Virginia Beach Shamrock, two weeks ago. Since January, I have been gradually falling behind, slowly but surely (get it???) each week.

Saturday we were scheduled for six miles, but the two chicks who had ALREADY run their half marathons opted for 10, and I had to agree that it surely couldn't hurt me. So off we went, and as usual, I started in the middle, K and E behind me running together, and Coach in the not-too-far-ahead distance.

And as usual, around mile 3, the chicks passed me, we ran even for a while, and then, they became as tiny little dots in the distance. And then? I stopped caring about my 10-miler half-way through it. I started walking. Stretching. Talking smack to myself. You know. The USUAL. Ten miles in 2:16. I must have been going backwards for part of that.

Sunday was better. Sunday was Easter! And to make up for Saturday's misery, I dragged Number One Daughter on our annual Easter Hike on the Billy Goat Trail,


a rocky, strenuous, and somewhat treacherous hike (especially if you are carrying a NEWBORN baby on your back, like the guy in front of me was....arghhhh!)

Another guy was in shiny, tasseled loafers. No really. You would not believe what people wear to hike this trail. High heels.

We had fun.

But I still had to feed the TRI-beast. So NOD dropped me off at work, and I did my second-ever mini-brick: I rode 10 miles in 50 minutes (note to self: Self? You feel the wind a LOT more when riding. Hence, you get COLDER than when you are running. See note above about appropriate dress), froze my ASS off, and then did a 10:30 min/mile.

I will never get over what it feels like to get off a bike and then run. NEVER. Just picture yourself running with your feet in concrete. It's so funny, I think I actually laughed out loud. While trying to run. Two things that don't generally occur together in nature.

Biking is so much more fun than running. I'm sorry to say it, my running peeps, but it is. Even given the fact that after a short ride, certain, err, parts of my anatomy are, um ... not feeling so good. Good thing I've already got that daughter of mine!

In summation, for those of you following along at home:
Saturday: 10-mile crappy run;
Sunday: 2-mile hardcore hike, followed by 10-mile bike, followed by 10:30 mile run, followed by grocery shopping, followed by lasagna-making (the way my Italian father made it, with meat, AND hard-boiled eggs) in honor of NOD, even though meat is gross and I'm not doing her any favors by feeding it to her.

And that's a wrap.

Ride, Sally, Ride

REGISTRATION IS CLOSED

The New Triathles Program (NTP) 2008 closed in a record 35 minutes! To those that we were unable to register, we apologize and hope that you intend to become active in the general membership of DC Tri. We have countless opportunities to help you get through your first triathlon and hope that you will still plan to register for the NJ State Triathlon and join us as we go for our fourth consecutive USAT Mid-Atlantic Club Championship!

February 1, Friday morning, 8:50 a.m.: I should have been ensconced in a training room deep in the bowels of the Washington Hilton Hotel, learning all the ins-and-outs of Day Two of Project Management. Instead, I sat in my office, fingers hovering over the keyboard, waiting for NTP to open. As the clock ticked toward 9:00 a.m., I loaded and reloaded the page, not wanting to miss my opportunity (which, as you know, only knocks once). The minute I saw the NTP Program on the sign-up page, I pounced, filled out all the info...and MADE IT IN!

(I didn't miss anything at the PM class btw. In fact, I made it there by 9:05. Just in case anyone is wondering.)

But the point is: I'm IN!

So today, Sunday, the day after Saturday, the day of my long run, in which I manage to get increasingly slower week after week (yesterday--10 miles, 1:54), after having eaten three donuts at church, coming home to my disheveled apartment, and trying to decide between cleaning up, buying groceries or doing the laundry, I looked out the window at a beautiful sunny sky with 55F, and instead decided to check out the warm-up plan (that's the plan you follow for the month before you start the actual triathlon plan) and discovered today was 50 minutes on the bike, followed by a 10-minute run.

Pfft! A 10-minute run! You're making me laugh!

So I flung myself and some gear into the car to drive to work, because that's where the bike, and come to think of it, the trail, are.

Twenty minutes later I was riding mustang sally. For 50 minutes. I'm sure I've got every part of that bike set at some weird angle, since my knee hurt and my back was killing me. Anyway, I did 9 miles in 50 minutes, so that's what I like about the bike. When's the last time you heard me say I did NINE MILES IN 50 MINUTES??

I was sailing past all those runners. Ha! Until I had to turn around and realized, for the millionth time, that this trail is DOWNHILL ONE WAY. Which means: UPHILL THE OTHER WAY.

My favorite part was going up the River Road bridge, and flying down the other side, where there were some walkers coming towards me. Ambling. On my side of the trail. One was a kid of about 17, holding a coffee cup, staring straight at me. Since he was staring at me, I made the foolish mistake of thinking that he SAW ME. No movement on his part reflected that any such impression had indeed been made. So I did what anyone would do. I screamed, "Moooooooooove!!!" at the top of my voice.

That worked.

I made it back to work, parked the bike and headed back up to the trail for a 10-minute run.

Holy freakin' hell.

Who invented this?? I'd heard about "wobbly legs" off the bike, etc., but geeeze! Imagine running with giant cement blocks on your feet instead of running shoes. That's what hopping off a bike and trying to run feels like. Kids riding Big Wheels were passing me. Old ladies with walkers and oxygen tanks. You get the picture.

I managed one mile in 10:17, but all I can say is: I'm really gonna give new meaning to the word "SPRINT" on June 21.