TaskForce Undercover Replace Dreadmill

I asked the person in charge of our fitness room and classes at work (yes we have them ... provided at company expense ... how cool is that??) how one might go about replacing the treadmill that was bought sometime during FDR's administration. Because that's probably why he ended up in a wheelchair, from using this thing. How old is it?? It's so old...it can remember when the Dead Sea was just ill. Ba-da-bum.

Employee-in-charge of fitness suggested those interested form a taskforce, scope out interest, price some treadmills, and go from there.

Step One: Form taskforce. I e-mail a few likely candidates to see if they are intersted in replacing the treadmill. Heck yes! And are they willing to be on a taskforce?? Um, no freakin' way. Willing to name the taskforce? Whatever. I carry on without them, coming up with fancy taskforce name: T.U.R.D.

Step Two: Assess interest. I cajole a runner-type employee to send a company wide e-mail, since everyone declines that honor as well. She sends this:

"Some of us runner-types are looking at our fitness equipment, and would like to take a look first at the treadmill. If you're not a runner, please disregard this message, and go about your day. BUT, if you are a runner, it would help us if you answered these few questions:

1. Do you use the treadmill?

2. If you don't use the treadmill, why not?

3. What features would you like in a new treadmill?

4. Do you think we should look into replacing it?

Thanks!
Madame X"

Madame X got quite a few responses. Well, maybe 10. Out of 100 people. Here's a sampling (quotes have been changed to protect the innocent):

"I've used the treadmill a few times. The main reason I don't is that I far prefer running outside. As far as the unit goes, I've never had any problems with it, including once about two weeks ago when I ran on it."

Hello?? Can you follow the freakin' format?? And yeah, we all prefer running outside, except when we can't. Sigh.

or this:

"I occasionally use the treadmill, such as in bad weather & when I can't make a class. Is it not working correctly, or somehow deficient? Since it sounds like a big-ticket item, I'd want to make sure we've the gym new floor, class-related equipment, and instructors paid for first."

I mean, kudos to you for looking out for the bottom line and all, but form your own damn committee about the rest of that stuff. And while you're at it, try answering the questions!

Then there was this:

"Sorry, I can't help it, but if you get around to the eliptical machine, please consider replacing it with a Precor. Either the kind with the swingy arms or the one without."

I object!! Irrelevant and immaterial!

or this:

"1.yes
2.laziness
3.monitor (television not heartrate)
4.don't know"

Finally, someone who can follow directions.

Step Three: Disband T.U.R.D. Return to work.

Now, we have this really crappy free coffee here ...

10k Turns Magically Delicious!!

Today I got this e-mail:

Dear St. Patrick’s Day 10K Registrant:

We want to take this opportunity to let you know about a couple of changes to the St. Patrick’s Day race in Washington, DC.

After almost a year of effort and the development of numerous courses, we were unable to get a 10K course approved by the District of Columbia government for the 2006 race. Fortunately, a new certified 8K course was developed this year for another race from Freedom Plaza, and we have received approval to use that course instead. ...

We hope the 8K distance will be a welcome change...

Umm, hell yes, I'll say it's a welcome change. I'm already breaking out the Chieftains' CDs. Because no way was I gonna be ready for a 10k in two weeks.

I know—I have a Bad Attitude, just like the nuns said on several report cards. I would just once like to be actually prepared for a race distance. And now, I have no excuses.

***

Saturday was week two of the DC Road Runners Club training for the Mothers' Day 10k. I'm in the "advanced beginners" group? I guess? I'm not sure. So I fit right in, because the two coaches for my group aren't sure about anything, either. Like where we should run, or how far, or what the schedule will be for the next 10 weeks, or how to stretch. For instance. Or what to do during the week. (Am I being hard on them?? No, I haven't even started being hard on them. Because they are volunteers, so I am cutting them some slack. Which is so not in my nature.)

See, I'm kinda doing two things at once; I'm preparing for a 10 miler on April 1; plus a 10k in May (well, plus the 8k. So three things). Which means, I'm looking really good in the 10k group, since I've been training since, like November (and no, I'm still not up to six miles).

We ran slow and easy for 30 minutes, on a fairly hilly course, and I came in first in my group of six or seven. Huzzah. I have no idea how slow I was going; I just know everyone else was going slower. Well, plus, they had to stop a few times to figure out which way to go.

Bex is a coach for this training program (though let me hasten to add, not one of my clueless coaches). She's sending out weekly updates, and encouragement, and plans to her group, all Bex-like, and I am so jealous that I might actually have to switch into her group, just to get the e-mails. Two of my work colleagues are also doing this training, and we're all in different pace groups, which means we get to compare training notes, along with lust and disdain levels for all our different coaches. Tallgirl is in the fastest, speediest group; I'm in the middle-to-low rent district; and Sleuth is coming up fast behind us, all sleuth-like.

We went to Starbucks afterwards and laughed ourselves sick. Which makes the entire training plan worth it right there.

Sunday, on the other plan, the BEX Kill Jeanne training plan, I ran 55 minutes with no walking, in the freakin' freezing cold (although nothing like this) and the wind in my face both ways (how is that possible? I mean really. It's not, is it?).

But that was just the topper to a lovely Sunday morning, where I successfully a) did not drop any bells over the side of the choir loft; 2) hit anyone by mistake; 3) ring any wrong notes; d) or knock over the tables that the bells are on; and v) did no cursing, either! Oh yeah, and I played my two notes (B and C) flawlessly. At the right time, too.

All in all, a stellar weekend.

No Clever Title Today

(I rarely post personal stuff on this blog because it's my fun, safe, happy place. But I feel like I need to write about today. So feel free to skip this whole post, cuz it's got nothin' to do with running.)

Some of you know that my 83-year-old mother is now in a nursing home in Charlottesville, 2 1/2 hours away, where she's been since New Year's, (well, after three weeks in the hospital), trying to recover from a fall, along with a lot of other things.

Last Friday her husband (I never call him my stepfather, I guess because they got married long after I was grown, and they lived in California, and I lived in Virginia then, and I never knew him because they never visited, and I didn't have the money to visit them) ... they moved from sunny California to the backwoods of West Virginia two years ago for no particular reason other than they are both insane.

Anyway ... he went into UVA last Friday for removal of a polyp from his intestine, which he was supposed to have had removed FIVE years ago, but didn't, and (oh this is gross) just let grow. He refused a heart stress test before the surgery, and the hospital made him sign a release acknowledging his refusal and outlining the possible outcomes. Day four after surgery, like clockwork, the doctor said, he had a heart attack. He is now non-responsive, with an ostomy bag, 'cuz the surgery didn't go so well either.

I went first to the nursing home today, bundled up mother and her oxygen tank, and got her on the bus for handicapped people to get her to the hospital so that she would have a chance to see him, because things ain't looking so good. She's still in tremendous pain from shingles, can't walk, and has congestive heart failure, but I kind of forced her to go see her husband, because she doesn't understand that he is near death. And I thought she might really regret not seeing him.

I don't really know what to say, except it's all very overwhelming. I'm the only sibling on my side of the family (of the three kids that are still living) who can deal with any of this (the visiting, the banking, the mail, the doctors, the wills, the million and one decisions). My mother's husband has four kids: they all flew/drove in today from the four corners of the country. Today was the first time I have ever met them (mum has been married to this guy for 23 years; I guess you could say we're not exactly the Waltons.

Before I drove down this morning, I went to week two of my 10k running group. That sounds selfish, huh. But people keep telling me—and I believe them—that I need to take care of myself and do what makes me happy as much as possible, so that's what I'm doing.

And I drove back tonight, because tomorrow is my big debut as a bell ringer. And I don't want to miss it, or let my group down.

Today was a hard, very hard day. And there's absolutely nothing I can do about anything, except show up and listen. So that's what I'm trying to do.

Back to our usual programming tomorrow.

Namaste

Went to Bikram yoga tonight, even though I had already run a quick (endless) 35 minutes this morning. Just for the record. (Although I can now listen to Slate.com's podcast, plus the front pages of the New York Times. I was rockin' to the Times, people!!)

Back to Bikram. It was kind of crowded. And it was mild outside, so the temp inside was, well, really, incredibly, extremely, very, very hot. The room is dark when you get there; you go in quietly, pick out your place, roll out your yoga mat and cover it with a towel.

And that's where things went wrong.

I made the faux pas of asking the young lady next to me if she could move her mat over a few millimeters. I was smack up against the wall (the wall of windows! cool windows!!) but there are a few poses where you actually need space on either side of you, like this poorma salabhasana, for instance:



Hold pose for the rest of your life.

See, this pose? Means you need a bit of room.

Well shut my mouth. My request was met with a huge sigh, rolling eyes, the statement "Well, then I won't be able to see myself in the mirror," plus assorted other inimitable signs of total utter exasperation. She moved, making sure she made a lot of damn noise, what with moving her towel and water bottle and all. Plus all the sighing.

See, the thing about yoga is, it's all about the moment. You're supposed to be in the moment, and let stuff go. Our yoga chick teacher kept reminding us of this: "When you finish one pose, have no regrets, because it's over, you'll never have it back, just move on to the next one." (Just like life!!) In between poses, you try to get still as quickly as possible. Because 1) it's 150 degrees, and 2) you need to slow your heart down. She kept reminding us of this as well. "Just notice what you do between poses. Do you immediately reach for the water? Or the towel? Or re-do your hair? Or fidget?" I tend to get into "the still" asap, before I die. But this chicka who was so bent outta shape about moving over 1/2 inch, well, I noticed she didn't know what still meant.

The inside still eluded me tonight, as I spent too many minutes of this 90-minute class letting this kid get to me. Thinking about what I'd like to say to her. Trying to think kind thoughts: like maybe she had a bad day? Then, thinking that once we were in the locker room, I'd explain yoga to her. Right in her face. Then, actually worrying that she'd punch me out in the locker room.

So, I guess what I'm saying is: Don't be taking a yoga class, especially a HOT yoga class, if you can't move your big fat ass over 1/2 inch.

Straight From the Runway Into Your Closet

ThinkGeek

Thanks to, um, Legs, for the tip!

We Have Liftoff

Yesterday was the first meeting of my running group's (I have a running group, people!), the D.C. Road Runners, 10K training program, which aims to prepare folks for the May 14 Mother's Day 10k. Too bad my 10K is March 12. (And really, horribly too bad that my first 10 miler is April 1.)

We met at 8 a.m. at a local YMCA, milled around for 40 minutes or so, met the coaches outside in the freezing cold parking lot, who quickly outlined the schedule (something was mentioned about mid-week track and/or hill workouts but somehow I got distracted during that part). Bex is one of the coaches, but alas, not mine, at least not for this official program. We divided into groups (my coach had a conflict, so my group had a stand-in), did a 30-minute run on the somewhat extremely hilly Custis trail, which is where the Mother's Day 10K will be held. (I love the Web site's description: "you can expect a few moderate climbs and winding turns over the trail's four mile length." Hell's bells, I'll say!) But, I ran all the hills. Yay me.

I'm excited about training with a group again. Plus, the YMCA is allowing us the use of its showers and sauna. Oh yes. Which was great for me, because not only did I use the shower afterwards since I had to head for Charlottesville, but also the entrance to the highway is 1) near the YMCA, and 2) right across from a Starbucks! Oh, the stars were aligned.

In other news, I completed weeks one and two of the Kill Jeanne With Training Program, courtesy Bex. Today I was supposed to run only 45 minutes, but I went crazy and ran 50 minutes. In 20 degree something. With the sun sinking. Felt all runner-ly.

Finally, I must say, I am quite dismayed that only Thomas [and Jack and all his colleagues!] had the good taste to want to see a Mini, on fire, ski-jumping. Quite. Dismayed. After All I Do For You.

Sigh.

The Other Olympics

If you want to laugh your ass off, go here:
BBC Sports: Video and Audio, and on the upper right side scroll to the bottom, under "highlights and features," and click on the video:

"Top Gear: Ski Jumping with a Mini." You'll laugh, you'll cry.

No one does Mini ski jumping like the Brits.

****
Late add: They changed the url. It's fixed now.

Minute by Minute

So, Sunday's 45-minute run on the snow-slush-ice covered trail was ... interesting. I am now so over worrying about left-right-center, which way do I go? Went left, past the shops and people's back yards, and the golf course, which was covered with kids sledding. And, people, how come none of you ever told me how much FUN it is to run to music??? What gives??

I was bopping to my music, trying not to slide into the little stream (OK, I know it's just polluted runoff from the street. Still, it gurgles, so I'm calling it a stream) that runs alongside the trail, jumping over the trees that were bowed down with snow, right across the trail. Oh not jumping over them; more like leaping over them. (In my dreams I was leaping.)

Monday I rested. (That means I worked.)

Tuesday I biked 35 minutes per (note new nickname) the little dictator's instructions. (Just kidding, LD!!)

And this morning, I ran 45 minutes on ice-covered asphalt, while listening—on my shuffle!—to the last few chapters of "With No One as Witness," by Elizabeth George. Which was at a sad part, so I started crying. To a book. On the trail. While I was running. On the ice. Nice.

Sidbar: Despite all my bitching and moaning about getting ripped off by audible.com, I am now totally addicted to books on tape. I get two "free" books per month ($22 ain't free; the library is FREE), which I went thru in one week, even though they were both like 10 hours long. So now I have to wait 14 days to get another one? Life is hard, people.

Running by minutes instead of miles rocks. Maybe it will come back to bite me, but I feel like I have broken through yet another barrier. I don't dread running anymore. I don't worry "can I run 4 miles?" I know I can. So the little dictator knows what she is doing.

Although, on the other hand, running is now harder. Harder to get my act together. Now I have to download the right music, plus the right chapters of the right book; make sure I have the watch set correctly; pack all the right things, which means 6 different running outfits because it goes from 40F to 20F in the blink of an eye.

Which meant that Sunday, I arrived at work all revved up and ready to run on the trail, only to discover ... I had packed everything but a top. I had six different kinds of pants: long pants, pants for real cold, for mid-cold, for mild; shorts (in case I stayed inside); 10 different pairs of socks, and yes, running shoes. Heading out with only a running bra on, in the snow ... well, some of you could probably do that, but I have to draw the line somewhere.

Apparently though, I don't draw the line at theft. Because I was determined to run outside. So, I did what any normal person would do: I scoured the locker room until I found a top that fit. And then I wore it. And got it good and sweaty. And then took it to the dinner party in honor of my birthday that night, where I asked my host if I could use his washing machine.

And then I skillfully placed it back where I found it, no doubt leaving its owner wondering: How did this get so clean?

I may be a thief, but I have my standards.

3 a.m. Fire Alarm, Plus Blizzard: What's Your Excuse?

Fire alarm rang at 3 a.m., which I heard distantly in my dream in which I was in my mini, very very busy driving it over a cliff á la Thelma and Louise. Got up, looked in hall. Nothing. Nothing but the incessant scream of that alarm. So I called the fire department and let them hear it. They said they'd be right over. I grabbed my robe, and took the elevator to the lobby, where the rest of the residents had congregated. Had anyone called the fire department? No. No one had.

Sigh.

No fire, but we all had a a nice chat and watched the snow fall.

Here it is, 8 a.m., and it's not looking good for running outside.

Earlier last night, I drove downtown to George Washington University's Lisner Auditorium to see this:

Ballet Flamenco de Andalucía

The snow was already falling thick and heavy and I had trouble seeing as I drove. I got there early, checked my coat, nibbled on some free Spanish nibbles, and waited for my friend, S., whose birthday present this was to me. And mine to her.

She showed up; we took our seats. At 8:02, the ballet's manager came onstage to announce, in Spanish, that the show was cancelled because the costumes had not yet arrived. Some in the audience grew hostile as someone from Lisner explained that the auditorium did not agree with this decision since the troupe had some of their costumes. Alas, the star had already left the place. Ah well. So we went home. I was already exhausted from driving to Charlottesville and back, and worried about the snow, so even though I was disappointed, I looked on it as a gift. I got to dress up, drive downtown, nosh, and sit in Lisner Auditorium for 10 minutes. It's all good, people.

I spent the rest of the night figuring out how to use my extremely expensive Shuffle (EES), finally getting to bed at 12:30, looking forward to a nice 8 a.m. trail run to break the EES in.

Since there's a foot of snow outside, I'm kinda doubtful that any trails are run-able. Plan B: Off to the office, to use the treadmill.

After that: church, taxes, and a small b-day dinner with friends. I gotta go.

***

Late breaking news: I ran outside on the trail, in the snow and slush, past the cross-country ski-ers! Screw the treadmill.

Done, Done, Done, and Done

Recipe for Health:

• Four days, four runs (45 min., 40 min., 40 min. and 22 min.)
  
• One 90-freakin'-minute BIKRAM class. *Yum!)
  
• One bike session.
  
• One—my very first, in years— killer strength class (though with an awesomely cute instructor. Who, of course, is not on my team).

And you'd think that would be enough to satisfy one's coach? Oh no. Now I have to add five minutes to everything next week. I must say though, I'm feeling, well, awfully, um, sore? But in a good way. A really good way.

Speaking of good: My i-pod Shuffle came in the mail today. This is the one that I signed up for was suckered into signing up for with audible.com. The offer was for $22 for six months of audible.com, plus a shuffle! And speaking of Too Good to Be True: It's $22 per month, you idiot. I could have bought a cheaper, MP3 player with more bells and whistles! Still, this will be the first time I've run with anything on my head other than my hat. Or anything in my ears other than the songbirds, gurgling brooks, honking horns, and screeching brakes of my native Bethesda.

Speaking of horns and brakes, here's a noncommittal article from the WaPo on what exercising while breathing car exhaust can do to you.

I'm off to make Dianna's fab ginger mango streusal creation. Then off to Charlottesville in the wee hours, where please God, do not let me get stranded in the widely trumpeted upcoming blizzard. Cuz I got a b-day to get on!