Epic Fail

Well... so much for this resolution.

Apparently having one full time job, one part-time job, and one parter-time job, along with all the obligations, duties, and responsibilities of being a wife, sister, daughter, aunt, friend, housekeeper, and triathlete-in-training prevents one from effectively blogging once a week.  So, for those one or two fans of mine who had some vague memory of my blog before clicking on this link on Facebook, I am sorry.  All of my jobs are finished now, so I promise to try to do better over the summer.

One resolution I haven't dropped completely is participating in one event per month this year.  I am over one-fourth of the way through this commitment.  So far I have done three 5ks, one 10k, and one mud run.  Only seven more events to go!  The next two events I have scheduled are a triathlon in only four days, and the infamous Ride to Remember in July.  I'll be happy when the triathlon gets here because that means I can finally start focusing on cycling again.  Running has its benefits, but it doesn't hold a candle to the freedom and peace I experience while riding.  I may also try doing another triathlon in July, only a week before the ride to Chuck Town.  I figure I owe it to this awesome possum blessing of a bike to actually use it.

I don't feel as prepared for this tri as I wanted to be because 17 precious first graders have been eating up most of my energy lately; but ready or not, here it comes! 

I just hope I don't drown.

Just keep swimming...

Stroke. Stroke. Breathe.

Stroke. Stroke. Breathe.

The water is chilly when you first jump in and it gives a mini-shock to your nervous system. But then the smooth, cool silkiness of the water has a soothing effect on tired muscles and an over-stressed mind. You can float along on your back unthinking and let all the worries, wonders, and injustices of life slide off of you. The only thing to see as you float along is the drab, grey concrete ceiling which has, perhaps unwillingly , been privy to many years' worth of exasperated, sputtering sighs and coughs of release from weary bodies seeking their escape.

You could just float on your back for forever, but that's not really what you came here to do. So you flip over at the wall, spread your arms out in front of you and start to glide. Stroke, stroke, stroke... At first you don't have to come up for air every third stroke because your heart isn't racing and your lungs aren't on fire yet. You watch the black line underneath you guide you on your way as your body slices through the lane, faster than you thought you were capable of going. It feels good to keep your face in the water. Refreshing. Eventually, though, your lungs beg for oxygen, and so the work begins.

Stroke. Stroke. Breathe.

"Let's soak 'em for Crutchy!"

I have good news and bad news.

The good... no, GREAT news is that I successfully finished my first ever 10k run this past Saturday in downtown Greenville. I'm quite proud of this accomplishment! I never thought I would be able to run a full five miles without stopping, much less 6.4. My training for the last two and a half months paid off. I admit that I'm not a great runner. It took me one hour and nine minutes to finish, which put me at running a little less than an eleven minute mile. That isn't a very impressive or amazing time; but I did finish it! My legs actually, and surprisingly, felt very good for the majority of the run. It wasn't until mile five that I really began to tire. Since I wasn't in it to win any prizes or break ay records, I feel that I did a decent job of pacing myself and running within my current limits and ability level.

Now for the bad news... I tried not to broadcast my pain from last week, but following the previous Saturday's 75 minute training run, I had a lot of pain in the outside of my left foot. Initially, I figured it was the typical muscle pain and soreness that often follow strenuous exercise, and thought I would eventually just walk it off. But, as the day wore on, the pain did not decrease. So, like any modern-day human, I looked up my symptoms and pain online and diagnosed myself. I decided I had either bruised my foot, incurred a stress fracture from my foot's constant pounding on the pavement, or I was making the whole thing up. When I awoke Sunday morning, stepped out of bed and felt a sharp pain shoot through my foot, I knew that I hadn't made it up. Even though it felt better as the day wore on, I asked a nurse friend of mine that night what could be the problem. After I explained to her when it started hurting, how it felt, and where on my foot it hurt, she looked at me kindly, with apologetic eyes and said, "Sounds like a stress fracture, Heather."

Shoot. It's not cool to have a possible stress fracture the week before your first ever 10k. I suppose a normal person would have taken the pain and diagnosis to heart, seen a doctor to confirm their fears, and dropped out of the race in order to heal.

Well... I'm a stubborn dummy then because I didn't do any of those things. I was determined to participate in and complete that 10k because I had trained hard for it and because I had never done one before. So, I compromised and withheld from any running or aggressive walking throughout the week so that my foot might heal and I would be fresh for the Reedy River Run. By the end of the week, I wasn't feeling any pain at all and wondered if I had over-exaggerated it in the first place. So to the 10k I went!

Around mile 2 (with 4.4 miles yet to go) I felt that old familiar pain. So I concentrated on running on the inside of my foot to avoid it. I was determined to not stop running and I didn't. But at the finish line, my foot screamed at me. As I limped to the car alongside my friend, Crystal, I knew my running was going to be out of commission for awhile.

I'm trying to take it easy. My plan is to hold off from any serious running for the month of March in hopes that I will be in good shape for the mud run in mid-April. I'm concentrating on swimming and cycling which don't require me to put weight on my foot. Strangely, I'm missing running. Just when I was beginning to get used to it, maybe even enjoy it, I can't do it anymore. At least not for now.

But the good news is I finished a 10k!

NEW BIKE!

Do you like my new bike?!? It isn't the best picture because it was taken from my phone, so it doesn't nearly do the machine justice.

It is a Giant Aeryn, women-specific triathlon bike. I think it's about 5 years old, but it's been well handled and well cared for by its one and only owner, Karen Czuba. She is a doctor, turned nurse practitioner (because she wanted a lighter work schedule) who works with my father-in-law, Mike Elliott. She and her husband, Jimmy, are cycling and endurance sports enthusiasts. They've participated in many triathlons together, including at least one Ironman. And they're over 50!
They recently decided to buy new tri bikes for themselves, upgrading to Specialized carbon bikes. (The name alone makes me start to drool.) They also decided, in their ever philanthropist nature, not to sell their old tri bikes, but to simply give them away to two very lucky (and perhaps undeserving) amateur athletes on the one condition that the blessed recipients continue doing triathlons with the bikes. Jimmy's bike went to a nice, tall lady who lives in their neighborhood and whom Jimmy had been training to do tris. She was probably well-deserving of such an awesome gift.

And Karen's bike went to me.

I don't deserve it. This bike can probably do triathlons better than me, without me. It's light and fast, small and quaint. It has recently been equipped with a new chain and rear cassette. It's a serious bike, and it's beautiful.
So again, I feel I don't deserve it. Once I brought it home from Jimmy and Karen's house, I tentatively guided it inside and just stared at it. Then I prayed a prayer of thanks, for a gift as unexpected and awesome as this can only come from God. It's as if he was saying, "Happy Birthday, Heather! I love you!"

Such a serious bike comes with serious implications and forces me to ask myself at least one serious question - Do I want to continue participating in athletic events such as triathlons just for fun, or do I want to start training seriously and truly compete in some races? I made a deal: A free bike in exchange for the promise of continuing my athletic ventures. I won't go back on my word. I will train and I will try some tris. But do I have it in me to push myself to the next level? Do I have the necessary self-discipline to get out of bed every morning and force myself to strive harder, to get better? Is winning my age group in a sprint triathlon a feasible goal for me? And is it worth it?

As you can see, I'm not taking this idea lightly. I have this one last week to decide if I have it in me to be seriously competitive and whether or not I'm actually willing to work for it. I'm weighing my options, and the result of this Saturday's 10k may have a strong voice in my decision.

2 of 12

This weekend was a long one, but it was good. I ran my second event of the year on Saturday - the Habitat House 5k at Wofford College. It was a small event, consisting of maybe 50 total runners (and one dog) - a stark contrast to the Reedy River 10k Run I have coming up in less than two weeks where hundreds, if not a thousand or more, runners will clog the streets of downtown Greenville. Still, a 5k is a 5k, and this one wasn't exactly a walk in the park.

I have to admit that I wasn't as prepared for this event as I should have been, I haphazardly, unintentionally took last week off from training because I felt weak and sick for many days. (I blame it on being female.) I ran 3 miles on Monday, then didn't exercise again until the 5k itself. Fortunately, my body was able to adapt and push through it; but it didn't do so easily. I'm still paying the price for a week of slacking off in the form of sore legs.

For the record, I wish they wouldn't start a race by saying "On your mark; Get set; GO!" because it triggers some unstoppable adrenaline gush inside that completely nullifies all logic and reason within me and causes me to sprint from the start line to try keeping up with the front of the pack instead of remembering that - at least for me - it is an endurance race and not a 50-yard dash. Obviously, as I am taking the time to write about it, this is what I did on Saturday. They yelled "GO!" and I went! My sprint lasted for approximately two minutes before I realized what I had done. I began wondering why my legs were getting tired so quickly, and, when I figured it out, I slowed way down. The next 30 minutes probably would have been easily bearable if there hadn't been so many hills. It seemed like every corner we turned provided either an uphill or a downhill. Descents are a lot of fun on a bicycle - you just hold on for the ride and let the wheels do all the work. It's not as much fun on your feet. If you don't try to control your speed and body position, you could go sprawling on your face. (I've actually done that sort of thing on a bike before. It's not as fun as it sounds.)

Long story short, I finished the run despite being undertrained for the week and having to tackle many hills. It's hard to say how my timing was because I believe their timer was wrong, and I forgot to set my own stopwatch. I'm going to guess, though, that I ran just over a 10 minute mile. That's decent enough for me, especially with so many hills. I'm sure my average will be much lower for the 10k, but I'm okay with that too, since my goals for that race are to (hopefully) not stop running, and to make it to the finish line in one piece.

I did not do this race alone. My gallant husband, Frac, and fearless friend, Crystal, ran it with me. Frac even ran an extra few tenths of a mile to Krispy Kreme because there wasn't an aide yet stationed at Wofford's entrance to direct the runners the correct way. (He still beat me by several minutes.) My faithful mom was also there to take pictures, along with my mostly-precious nephew, Zeke. I think events like this are always more fun when you bring an entourage of people to enjoy it with you and support you.

I wanted to write about the rest of my weekend, including my new bicycle, but this entry seems long enough on its own. I guess it will have to wait 'til next time...

Grrrrr

I am very frustrated with myself right now. Firstly, I'm disappointed with myself for not writing something on here last week; but that's not all that important.
I'm actually frustrated with many different aspects of my life, but especially with my health. I am a living example of Romans 7...

"I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do - this I keep on doing. Now, if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it." Romans 7:15-20

A little confusing, perhaps, but true. This goes for obeying God, for relationships, for finances, etc. And for my physical well-being.

I am well enough educated to know that it is better to eat a grilled chicken salad than a cheeseburger and fries. I also know that my body is made up of at least 80% water, which I should drink regularly and continually. And Cherry Coke, though tantalizing to my taste buds, holds no nutritional value whatsoever.
However, given the option between the salad and the cheeseburger, I will inevitably choose the cheesey, greasy goodness 9 times out of 10 because - let's face it - it's at least 90% yummier in most (if not all) taste tests. And I will eat the french fries with it, wash it down with Cherry Coke, then probably top it off with a brownie or some other chocolatey delight.

Sigh. (*Sidenote: My husband hates it when I write out the word 'sigh.' Sorry, Frac.*) I wish I had the same self-discipline with eating well as I do with exercising and training; but, I don't. It's a real struggle for me. Exercising comes fairly naturally. I like the way it makes me feel, I like the euphoric sense of accomplishment when I am done, and I enjoy getting out of the house every once in awhile to do so. But healthy eating isn't so innate. Despite knowing that vegetables, water, whole grains, and lean proteins are good for me and are the best kind of fuel for my body, I usually end up letting my taste buds make all the decisions. Bad decisions.

1 Corinthians 6:19 says to honor God with your body. Of course, this verse could be applied to any number of temptations or stumbling blocks in our lives; but presently it reminds me that I don't have this body for very long and I need to honor God by treating it well and perhaps even setting a good example for others. Daniel recognized this when he was put in the king's court. He refused to eat the king's select feasts and insisted that he be able to eat his healthy diet of vegetables instead. He told his immediate supervisor to just let him try it out for a few weeks and he would prove that his way of eating was better. And he was right!

I'm trying to be better. Sort of. I'm not doing a very good job, though. I feel much more enabled and disciplined in this regard when I'm playing Game On, where I have constant encouragement from others. Without someone staying on top of me about being consistently healthy, I fail quickly.

So, I'll encourage you if you'll encourage me.

No Train, No Gain

I have quite a few very random, very unrelated thoughts swimming around in my head that I believed, in a moment of caffeinated delusion, would make a perfectly arbitrary blog that you who are reading this could easily be tricked into... well, reading. So, here they are, in no particular order:

(DISCLAIMER: Please accept my pre-emptive apologies for the potential time you will have wasted reading this. I promise the future of my blog is significantly brighter.)

At 8:00 this morning, I had a full cup of strongly caffeinated coffee made by some spanish-speaking country. It has been five hours since then and the effects have not yet worn off. Those who know me well understand how crazy and energized caffeine makes me and could possibly be laughing at the way my writing style closely resembles my stream of consciousness while affected by said drug. This behavior leads me to believe that I should reserve my spanish coffee exclusively for race days. (And maybe my birthday, just for fun.)

I am thoroughly enjoying the shirt I'm wearing today! It is soft, warm, and loose-fitting. I won't lie, I bought it from the little boys' section at Kohl's. And I'm not ashamed to admit that I would like to get another one just like it, but in black. (This one is white.)

I still really like Relient K.

There's another shirt in the Kohl's boys' section that I would like. It's an athletic shirt that says "No Train No Gain." Seems fitting. (hehe) Or maybe I could just make myself a sign that says that.

I just watched a series of promotional videos for the Spartan Race (http://www.spartanrace.com/), and I am PUMPED! The Spartan Race is a series of muddy, trail running obstacle courses of varying distances that are held all over America, Canada, and the United Kingdom. The obstacles are insanely tough and you really would have to have the heart of a Spartan to do it. I think people who try them must be madmen and women; and I wonder if I'm mad enough to be able to endure it...

I signed up for a 10k run!!! You might think I'm crazy, but you didn't just watch videos about the Spartan Race. A 10k should be a cakewalk compared to that!
Still, it will be the farthest distance I've ever been on foot; so it actually won't be a walk in the park for me. I can't decide if I want my goal to be just to finish it by any means necessary, or to run the whole way. Of course, I'd like to run the whole time, but what if my knees can't handle it? (In case you were curious from the last post as to why I don't like to run, it's because I seem to have inherited my parents' knees. And that's not a good thing.) But I want this year to be memorable, and attempting a feat I've never done before certainly seems memorable. I have found a 5 week training plan and I'm going to do my best to stick to it. I've also enlisted the partnership of a friend at work to train and do it with me. (I even gave her a training plan before I asked her if she would do it - how creepy is that??) At the moment, I'm particularly excited about boldly going where I've never gone before; but once the caffeine wears off, my thoughts may change to self-loathing.

I'm singing in church on Sunday. I've never done that before either... I'm terrified.