Funny how one can fly on a regular basis for years with no major hassles and then have a single trip make up for it all.
For starters, a bomb threat at Hobby Airport delayed my outbound flight to Chicago Midway on Friday. I didn’t know at the time why we were delayed, though. I was just perplexed and had to read about it in the paper after the fact.
On the way to Chicago I was pretty anxious about making my connecting flight to Hartford, but the flight attendant reassured me that the other flight was delayed as well. Okay, so no need to worry about missing my flight, but, “The other flight is delayed by an hour, too,” just isn’t reassuring, somehow.
We landed with no problems and my cousin Charles met me at my gate. We had plenty of time to get him a sandwich and visit a bit before boarding. The flight was uneventful, Charles kept me entertained with some really crazy stories about his mother’s childhood in Argentina, and we made up a bit of time on the way to Bradley Field, which was nice. My uncle met us at the airport and a weekend of family stuff ensued. More on that in another post, if I can think of a way to make it sound at all interesting.
It was the return home on Monday where things got really weird and where I was especially grateful for having gotten everything I needed into a couple of carry-ons.
I spent the morning making copies of old photos and hanging out at my aunt’s library in Simsbury. By 11:00 I was famished, having completely forgotten to eat any breakfast. My aunt and I had some very nice salads at a little deli and I picked up a couple of granola-fruit-brownie type of things from their bakery on the way out. I was only going to get one as a dessert, but my aunt suggested I get two, “Just in case your flight is delayed.”
Thanks for jinxing me, Aunt Susan!
She got me to the airport a bit after noon, with plenty of time to get checked in for my 1:45 to Philadelphia. The line for security stretched for what seemed half a mile, but I coped with the boredom by trying to place the other people in line in their appropriate geographical areas based on dress. This was the result of a discussion Susan and I had over lunch about how Southern women were much more dressy than Northeastern women. I figured the madeup and manicured blonde with the matching metallic gold sandals, belt and purse was either Southern or from Los Angeles, while the girls with no makeup and hoodie tops were almost certainly New Englanders. I didn’t get a chance to actually query any of these people, so I’m not sure of my accuracy, but I did correctly guess that the short, dark and obviously foreign Latinos ahead of me in line would be taken off for additional searching and questioning.
Racial profiling? No, you don’t say!
My flight to Philly was delayed by about an hour due to bad weather along the eastern seaboard. So I spent my time chatting with a fellow Houstonian—a football coach from inner-city Milby High School. He was very nice and could talk about just about any topic. Then he went off to go do something, leaving me in charge of his bags. I wouldn’t have accepted this assignment from just any stranger in an airport, but every instinct I had was coming up good on this guy so I moved his bags closer to mine and settled in to read my New York Times. I’d had a bit of a time getting my NYT, which was odd. I would’ve thought they would be ubiquitous in Connecticut. Maybe it was the front-page story about airport delays that made them scarce that day.
Coach returned for his bags as they started boarding the plane and it seemed like a pretty normal flight until we got close to Philly and found out there were storms in the area. Although the frequently warned-of turbulence never developed, we circled the city for over an hour before finally getting clearance to land.
By now it was exactly time for my connecting flight to Houston to leave, but it was pretty clear that no one was going anywhere because everywhere you looked were planes just sitting on the runways. It was one big parking lot out there.
No one could tell us when the Houston flight was leaving, but flight congestion was so bad that our gate wasn’t even available—all the seats were taken up with people going to Orlando, which was the flight ahead of us out of that gate. So I wandered off in search of food. After pushing through crowds of stranded travelers and waiting in a long line, I finally acquired a Greek salad. Okay, it was sort of Greek. It had feta cheese, but it had only ordinary black olives instead of calamata, so I had a small issue with it. It was good though, and trying to find a place to eat it in that over-crowded terminal made for an interesting and distracting challenge.
I finished my wait by visiting with Coach some more. He had found another Houston coach to talk to and was sharing his 1970s Southwest Airlines reminisces. Wow. I knew they were edgier back then, but these were some really crazy stories! I had the impression Coach was no slouch himself back in the day, either. Funny to hear of such wild times from such a sedate-looking older gentleman. Anyway, after what seemed like at least fifty pre-boards, we ordinary folks were finally allowed to board the plane. Then they queued us up on the runway and let us sit on the tarmac with all the other sheep. For two hours.
Two HOURS.
I was already low on magazines and quickly ran through everything I had left in my bag, the in-flight magazine and a ten-page article on soybeans that my father gave me last week. I played a few hands of solitaire, ate the Connecticut blueberries I had planned to take home and was generally grateful I had brought food and water with me because they can’t serve anything until the plane is at cruising altitude.
At one point the captain announced we were second in line to take off, but then we were mysteriously shunted off to the side and the pilot killed an engine. Our flight path toward the south was blocked by new storms, apparently. I began to wonder if I would ever get home. I’m not generally prone to claustrophobia but it was getting hard to just sit there, not going anywhere, while a pre-school’s worth of children shrieked all around me and Snorey sawed away behind me, fast asleep and oblivious to it all.
What a shame I’ve never been able to fall asleep on a plane.
Finally we were allowed to take off and once again, the lack of turbulence made me wonder what all the fuss had been about. Well, I’d rather they be too cautious than the alternative.
It was well after 11:00 pm before we finally got to Houston. I had called Dan a few times from Philadelphia to let him know he should check with the airline before coming to get me, so he hadn’t been waiting all this time. We threw my bags in the car and headed home. On the way he told me the cat had missed me terribly but the bunny seemed unmoved by my absence, the little ingrate.
So I’m glad to be back, glad that my summer travels appear to be over and I can settle back into a schedule. I went to the gym Tuesday, ran a few errands and spent a lot of time sleeping, so I’m rested and ready for the August madness of fiscal year end, followed by the fall bike ride series and a few races, illness and injury gods permitting.
It’s good to be home!
Recent Workouts
Friday: 5.25 mile run on bayou trails
Saturday: Rest day with a bit of walking in Lexington, Massachusetts
Sunday: 2 hour run on rail trail; went from Cheshire to Hamden and back
Monday: Unscheduled rest day-- got home too late to run
Tuesday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run (brick), ab and lat work, 45 minute bike - Spinervals 3.0 Suffer-O-Rama
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
The Labyrinth
This post is for anyone who has ever had doubts, but especially for my friend Wil on the occasion of her first half ironman triathlon this weekend.
It was a warm spring afternoon and Dan and I were wandering the streets of Old Town Santa Fe. We had browsed a few shops, checked out the Indians' wares in front of the historic governor's palace and were contemplating our next adventure in that lazy way one does while vacationing, as ready to bumble into something as to make it happen.
We stopped at St. Michael's so Dan could sit down and rest for a moment and to my delight I saw they had something new out front-- a labyrinth! I handed off my purse to Dan, found the starting point and jumped in. The path was just a narrow tracing of granite, lighter than the stone around it, and it wandered back and forth, sometimes tracing quarter-circles, sometimes describing almost the entire outer perimeter before meandering back in toward the center then suddenly leaping backwards and sideways, shunting me off in a different direction. The turns were tight little switchbacks, often reversing themselves and doubling back the way I had come. It had all seemed fairly straightforward from the outside, but of course once I was on the path, it took all my concentration merely to remain on course and not blunder onto the path right next to it where I would surely wander around endlessly with no hope of reaching my goal.
After awhile the meandering paths began to all look the same. It seemed impossible that I hadn't yet reached the center. From the outside, only a few quick strides would've taken me to the middle if I had been willing to cheat the process. Doing it the right way took longer.
The path turned yet again and suddenly all was confusion. My steps faltered. I paused and looked around. How could this be? A moment ago it seemed I was almost there and now I was farther away than ever! My mind raced. Had I made a mistake on one of those switchbacks? Was I on the right path? Did the path even lead to the center at all?
For a moment, I doubted.
But no, I had to be on the right track. I had been paying close attention, hadn't I?
So with a little frown, I continued. And only a few steps later, there I was, goal attained, stepping into the center. I turned to Dan with a big smile and raised my arms in victory.
They say the labyrinth is a metaphor for many of life's journeys. How many times have we doubted the path we're on, questioned our ability to stay the course, wondered if we're on the right road at all? And yet it is just when it seems we've made a mistake and all our effort has been in vain, that we can't let our doubts overcome our resolve. The path is the right one, our effort is good and the goal is closer than we could possibly imagine.
Never doubt your ability. Never give up.
Get well and stay the course at Steelhead, Wil!
Good luck, Shelley and Vertical Man!
And good luck to all of you, Friends, as you journey down life's confusing paths.
It was a warm spring afternoon and Dan and I were wandering the streets of Old Town Santa Fe. We had browsed a few shops, checked out the Indians' wares in front of the historic governor's palace and were contemplating our next adventure in that lazy way one does while vacationing, as ready to bumble into something as to make it happen.
We stopped at St. Michael's so Dan could sit down and rest for a moment and to my delight I saw they had something new out front-- a labyrinth! I handed off my purse to Dan, found the starting point and jumped in. The path was just a narrow tracing of granite, lighter than the stone around it, and it wandered back and forth, sometimes tracing quarter-circles, sometimes describing almost the entire outer perimeter before meandering back in toward the center then suddenly leaping backwards and sideways, shunting me off in a different direction. The turns were tight little switchbacks, often reversing themselves and doubling back the way I had come. It had all seemed fairly straightforward from the outside, but of course once I was on the path, it took all my concentration merely to remain on course and not blunder onto the path right next to it where I would surely wander around endlessly with no hope of reaching my goal.
After awhile the meandering paths began to all look the same. It seemed impossible that I hadn't yet reached the center. From the outside, only a few quick strides would've taken me to the middle if I had been willing to cheat the process. Doing it the right way took longer.
The path turned yet again and suddenly all was confusion. My steps faltered. I paused and looked around. How could this be? A moment ago it seemed I was almost there and now I was farther away than ever! My mind raced. Had I made a mistake on one of those switchbacks? Was I on the right path? Did the path even lead to the center at all?
For a moment, I doubted.
But no, I had to be on the right track. I had been paying close attention, hadn't I?
So with a little frown, I continued. And only a few steps later, there I was, goal attained, stepping into the center. I turned to Dan with a big smile and raised my arms in victory.
They say the labyrinth is a metaphor for many of life's journeys. How many times have we doubted the path we're on, questioned our ability to stay the course, wondered if we're on the right road at all? And yet it is just when it seems we've made a mistake and all our effort has been in vain, that we can't let our doubts overcome our resolve. The path is the right one, our effort is good and the goal is closer than we could possibly imagine.
Never doubt your ability. Never give up.
Get well and stay the course at Steelhead, Wil!
Good luck, Shelley and Vertical Man!
And good luck to all of you, Friends, as you journey down life's confusing paths.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Benchmarks
My twenty-year high school reunion was this weekend.
I know a lot of people skip such functions for various reasons-- they say they didn't like the people they went to school with, they think nobody liked them, or they're just "too cool" to do reunions.
Whatever.
I've found that I learn a lot from these functions.
The ten-year showed me why I never quite fit in. I was on the fringes of half a dozen cliques without really being a member of any of them. At the time, I thought there was something wrong with me. But the ten-year reunion showed me that the problem wasn't me, it wasn't them, it was just the natural outcome of my personality. I'm not a joiner and my personality seems to be a random combination of intense focus followed by sudden abandonments and reversals of interest. I was flighty in high school and well into my twenties. If I stayed interested in a boyfriend for more than two weeks, it was noteworthy. I'm not good at being exclusionary. I had brainy friends, creative friends, slacker friends and every kind of friend in between. None of that made me good clique material, but it helped me move between cliques easily.
The ten-year reunion helped me come to terms with this and it set the stage for my acceptance a few years later, that I'm an introvert by nature and that's okay. Living in an extroverted society, an introvert like me gets so many messages that their instincts and needs are wrong. What a relief to realize that it really is all right that there are days when I can't bear to be around people, even the ones I love. What a revelation that there's nothing pathological about my need to hole up and recharge after spending time out in public, even if it's with the people I care about the most. So many things suddenly made sense, like the way college dorm life or working two jobs would drive me to a state of near-insanity. "Quit looking at me!" I would want to shout at random strangers, whether they were looking at me or not. "Just go away!"
Of course I never said such things, but my mind would scream them until I would truly wonder if I was losing my mind.
Once I learned to accept that I was an introvert and I didn't have to fight it, so many things fell into place. My confidence soared, the angst and squirreliness of trying to be what I wasn't dropped away, and I was finally able to organize my life in a way that would make me and the people around me happy. I have my ten-year reunion to thank for that because it provided benchmarks that set the stage for this deeper understanding of myself.
So what did I learn from my twentieth?
Well, I'm still taking stock and I think I'll still be parsing this a week or two from now. I'm just that kind of person. But my overwhelming impression was one of warmth and friendliness. People were less cliquish than before. People seemed happy just to see each other, and the stupidity of who was in which little status group seemed largely forgotten. People who never invited me to their parties were open and welcoming. People I had little to do with in school seemed glad to see me and I was glad to see them. There were people I would've loved to see, who weren't there. But there were people I hoped would be there who did show up, and it was wonderful. There was also a person I wanted to impress-- the tattered remnant of a twenty-one year old slight-- and once I saw this person, I realized I didn't give a damn what they thought because they so weren't worth the trouble. And the prettiest girl in our class paid me a compliment, although twenty years ago she wouldn't have deigned to speak to me unless she dropped her pencil and it rolled under my desk.
It was that sort of reunion.
I think we are starting to reach an age where we truly appreciate the people who knew us when we were young and stupid. There's something oddly comforting about that. We make so many friends as we go through life and of course many of our new friendships are intense, loving and long-lasting. But nothing can replace the person who "knew you when." It's a different quality of relationship and there is no substitute, no comparison. It's almost like family, only without so much baggage.
Reunions are a fascinating way of taking stock. It's like looking into a mirror at who you were and seeing how far you've come, what's changed and what has remained the same. The mirror is a little warped and dim, but the image that it reflects back is a valuable one. If you can't understand and come to terms with your past it will only be that much harder to move into the future.
In that song we sang in preschool, they never quite explained why we need to hang onto our old friends. Silver? Gold? What the heck is that supposed to mean? How can my friends be silver and gold? Should my friends be rich?
No, the only valuables you'll get from your old friends is insight. And a wise person realizes that this is more valuable than any riches that can be stored on earth.
I know a lot of people skip such functions for various reasons-- they say they didn't like the people they went to school with, they think nobody liked them, or they're just "too cool" to do reunions.
Whatever.
I've found that I learn a lot from these functions.
The ten-year showed me why I never quite fit in. I was on the fringes of half a dozen cliques without really being a member of any of them. At the time, I thought there was something wrong with me. But the ten-year reunion showed me that the problem wasn't me, it wasn't them, it was just the natural outcome of my personality. I'm not a joiner and my personality seems to be a random combination of intense focus followed by sudden abandonments and reversals of interest. I was flighty in high school and well into my twenties. If I stayed interested in a boyfriend for more than two weeks, it was noteworthy. I'm not good at being exclusionary. I had brainy friends, creative friends, slacker friends and every kind of friend in between. None of that made me good clique material, but it helped me move between cliques easily.
The ten-year reunion helped me come to terms with this and it set the stage for my acceptance a few years later, that I'm an introvert by nature and that's okay. Living in an extroverted society, an introvert like me gets so many messages that their instincts and needs are wrong. What a relief to realize that it really is all right that there are days when I can't bear to be around people, even the ones I love. What a revelation that there's nothing pathological about my need to hole up and recharge after spending time out in public, even if it's with the people I care about the most. So many things suddenly made sense, like the way college dorm life or working two jobs would drive me to a state of near-insanity. "Quit looking at me!" I would want to shout at random strangers, whether they were looking at me or not. "Just go away!"
Of course I never said such things, but my mind would scream them until I would truly wonder if I was losing my mind.
Once I learned to accept that I was an introvert and I didn't have to fight it, so many things fell into place. My confidence soared, the angst and squirreliness of trying to be what I wasn't dropped away, and I was finally able to organize my life in a way that would make me and the people around me happy. I have my ten-year reunion to thank for that because it provided benchmarks that set the stage for this deeper understanding of myself.
So what did I learn from my twentieth?
Well, I'm still taking stock and I think I'll still be parsing this a week or two from now. I'm just that kind of person. But my overwhelming impression was one of warmth and friendliness. People were less cliquish than before. People seemed happy just to see each other, and the stupidity of who was in which little status group seemed largely forgotten. People who never invited me to their parties were open and welcoming. People I had little to do with in school seemed glad to see me and I was glad to see them. There were people I would've loved to see, who weren't there. But there were people I hoped would be there who did show up, and it was wonderful. There was also a person I wanted to impress-- the tattered remnant of a twenty-one year old slight-- and once I saw this person, I realized I didn't give a damn what they thought because they so weren't worth the trouble. And the prettiest girl in our class paid me a compliment, although twenty years ago she wouldn't have deigned to speak to me unless she dropped her pencil and it rolled under my desk.
It was that sort of reunion.
I think we are starting to reach an age where we truly appreciate the people who knew us when we were young and stupid. There's something oddly comforting about that. We make so many friends as we go through life and of course many of our new friendships are intense, loving and long-lasting. But nothing can replace the person who "knew you when." It's a different quality of relationship and there is no substitute, no comparison. It's almost like family, only without so much baggage.
Reunions are a fascinating way of taking stock. It's like looking into a mirror at who you were and seeing how far you've come, what's changed and what has remained the same. The mirror is a little warped and dim, but the image that it reflects back is a valuable one. If you can't understand and come to terms with your past it will only be that much harder to move into the future.
In that song we sang in preschool, they never quite explained why we need to hang onto our old friends. Silver? Gold? What the heck is that supposed to mean? How can my friends be silver and gold? Should my friends be rich?
No, the only valuables you'll get from your old friends is insight. And a wise person realizes that this is more valuable than any riches that can be stored on earth.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Product Review - Carmichael Training Systems Video
Okay, so I bought a copy of Carmichael Training Systems (CTS) Climbing video about a year ago on ebay. My initial scan through it disappointed me. It didn't look like as much fun as Spinervals. And since I'm a creature of habit, I put the CTS video away.
Well, today I felt like doing something different, so I thought, "What the heck?" I popped in the video and here's my review:
It's technical. They want you to do a self-assessment so you can train within a certain heart rate range. Then throughout the video Chris goes around giving tips and explanations of various aspects of form, technique, even breathing! ("Concentrate on breathing out-- you'll breathe in naturally.") All of this is more involved that what Coach Troy takes you through on Spinervals.
On the down side, the tape is more boring than Spinervals. Chris doesn't joke around with the riders, doesn't urge them on or anything like that. He also doesn't give gearing advice-- he trusts you to choose your own gears based on where your heart rate needs to be. This is fine if you've been working out on a trainer for awhile and know what you need to do to get your heart rate up or bring it down, but if this had been my first bike training video, it would've been problematic and I don't know that I would've gotten as much out of it as I could've. The video quality is good, but unimaginitive. Unlike Spinervals, you get few closeups of the bikes or of the riders suffering. Sometimes the shots were in a sort of blue filter that made them look like something you'd see on a bad security video. I have no idea what's up with that. And finally, the CTS video doesn't have music during the hard sets, so be sure to play your own. Not that the Spinervals music is all that great (it rather sucks) but compared to the steady heartbeat-like thumping of the CTS video, Spinervals is Grammy material. Use your MP3. Or a CD. Or the radio. Something. Anything.
So how was the workout? Great! I sweated so much I felt like I was swimming. It was a deceptively simple workout, with relatively few sets, but they were all pretty long (5 minutes or more) and in big gears. Being more of an Ullrich than an Armstrong, this suited me fine. It suited me so well, in fact, that I... uh... did the video again when it was over. Seriously. I hope that doesn't make me some kind of hard-core triathlon freak.
Would I recommend this video? If you're an experienced rider with a good understanding of your heart rate numbers, VO2 max, etc, etc, yes. Similarly, if you've done a few Spinervals and feel like you know the drill, CTS will be a nice change and a good challenge. It's different, although I would hesitate to say it's better. It's like comparing speedwork to hill training-- they'll both make you faster, but you really can't say one is more effective than the other. They're just different.
Overall, I liked this video. I'll definitely do it again and I'm going to look into getting some of the other videos.
Ride fast, friends!
Today's Workout
Bike: 2 hours - CTS Climbing (60 min video, did it twice)
Well, today I felt like doing something different, so I thought, "What the heck?" I popped in the video and here's my review:
It's technical. They want you to do a self-assessment so you can train within a certain heart rate range. Then throughout the video Chris goes around giving tips and explanations of various aspects of form, technique, even breathing! ("Concentrate on breathing out-- you'll breathe in naturally.") All of this is more involved that what Coach Troy takes you through on Spinervals.
On the down side, the tape is more boring than Spinervals. Chris doesn't joke around with the riders, doesn't urge them on or anything like that. He also doesn't give gearing advice-- he trusts you to choose your own gears based on where your heart rate needs to be. This is fine if you've been working out on a trainer for awhile and know what you need to do to get your heart rate up or bring it down, but if this had been my first bike training video, it would've been problematic and I don't know that I would've gotten as much out of it as I could've. The video quality is good, but unimaginitive. Unlike Spinervals, you get few closeups of the bikes or of the riders suffering. Sometimes the shots were in a sort of blue filter that made them look like something you'd see on a bad security video. I have no idea what's up with that. And finally, the CTS video doesn't have music during the hard sets, so be sure to play your own. Not that the Spinervals music is all that great (it rather sucks) but compared to the steady heartbeat-like thumping of the CTS video, Spinervals is Grammy material. Use your MP3. Or a CD. Or the radio. Something. Anything.
So how was the workout? Great! I sweated so much I felt like I was swimming. It was a deceptively simple workout, with relatively few sets, but they were all pretty long (5 minutes or more) and in big gears. Being more of an Ullrich than an Armstrong, this suited me fine. It suited me so well, in fact, that I... uh... did the video again when it was over. Seriously. I hope that doesn't make me some kind of hard-core triathlon freak.
Would I recommend this video? If you're an experienced rider with a good understanding of your heart rate numbers, VO2 max, etc, etc, yes. Similarly, if you've done a few Spinervals and feel like you know the drill, CTS will be a nice change and a good challenge. It's different, although I would hesitate to say it's better. It's like comparing speedwork to hill training-- they'll both make you faster, but you really can't say one is more effective than the other. They're just different.
Overall, I liked this video. I'll definitely do it again and I'm going to look into getting some of the other videos.
Ride fast, friends!
Today's Workout
Bike: 2 hours - CTS Climbing (60 min video, did it twice)
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Uneventful
I haven't been posting lately because not a lot has been going on. That's kinda good. With so much happening in the next few weeks it's nice to have some good down-time.
Last weekend's run was almost wholly uneventful. I did three loops on the bayou trail with some mandatory walk breaks where the trail was excessively mud-covered. I'm not talking about a little of the ordinary stuff. This was several inches thick and of the slippery-slimy variety that you can't run in and can barely walk through without having a foot slide out from beneath you. So I walked these parts. Carefully.
When Dan decided not to go to his cousin's vow renewal ceremony that afternoon, I shed no tears and gratefully settled in for a long Saturday post-run nap. We watched an old German movie later in the evening and stayed up late. We felt no need to hit the hay eary because we didn't like the look of the weather forecast for Sunday's Katy Flatlands ride and figured we'd just stay home instead. It turned out to be a good call because thunderstorms moved into the area around 11 the next day and my massage therapist (a Cat 3 cyclist) told me that they hit Katy around 10:30 as she was getting ready to head home. Since Mary is much, much faster than I am, I can safely assume that I would've been caught in the storm had I done the ride.
My workweek was meeting-rific, but low on boss interference. One boss was in meetings most of the time and the other was on vacation. We finished getting our current fiscal year records audit-ready and are starting on last year's records now. Ho-hum. How many more years of this before I can retire?
I got my hair cut, but I'm not sure if I like it. The guy cut it a lot shorter than I really wanted and about an inch shorter than I thought we had agreed on. He fixed the bangs though, which means when I brush them out of my face, they stay that way. That's pretty cool. And the hairstyle is really quite nice, modern and versatile. It's just shorter than I've had it since '98 and I still find it a bit weird. I don't freak out over these things like I would've when I was younger, though. Age, experience and a nice assortment of hair products really boost a gal's confidence. I can style almost any cut a hundred different ways, and at least a dozen of them are sure to make me happy.
Today's long run featured a baby bunny and... turtles!
I did my old Memorial Drive to Chimney Rock route after a loop around the bayou trail, which was where I saw the tiny cottontail learning where to find the best grass. Then I ran up Memorial Drive, past the bike and running loops. Just beyond the railroad tracks, I noticed they had leveled and laid down some gravel on the little unofficial trail that some of us have made between the official park trail and the turn off Memorial to the polo grounds. Having a finished trail was nice because with all the rain we've had I was expecting that portion of the run to be like soup. Instead it was nice, well-drained gravel with no sucking mud or branches to trip me up. When I got to the intersection of Memorial and the 610 Loop I found the streetlights out, which made crossing a bit of an adventure, but the run up to Chimney Rock was nicer than I'd remembered, not having done it for awhile.
One problem I kept having today involved my fuel belt. I've had it a few years and one of the elastic bottle holders has gotten loose and misshapen. Today it was at the point of no return and I kept losing one of my stupid bottles. On the third time, about half a mile from Chimney Rock, I decided enough was enough. I carried it in my hand until I reached a little office building with a pond and benches that I had passed many times before. I figured it would be a good place to stop in case I needed a bench to set things on while I devised a temporary fix for my fuel belt. As it turned out, the bench was too wet to be of any use and I didn't need to set anything down after all. I had a baggie in my fuel belt pocket that I always keep there in case I run across some nice looking clover or dandelions for the bunny. I made a few strategic tears, twisted it into a long cord and wove it through the faulty bottle holder in a way that I can't really describe except to say that it held the bottle nicely. There's a reason my husband calls me MacGyver.
As I was leaving the little park I noticed a turtle sunning itself on a rock in the pond. I had no idea there were any animals in the pond, so I stopped to look at it. And almost immediately dozens of little turtle snouts appeared at the surface from points all across the pond and started moving toward me. Moments later I was surrounded by turtles, all looking at me expectantly with their solemn, hooded eyes. I guess now we know what the office workers there do with their leftovers from lunch, don't we? "I don't have anything for you," I informed them. I felt a little bad disappointing them, but life can be tough in a small pond.
And that's about all I have to say about anything tonight. I'm not feeling particularly philosophical, I have no words of wisdom for anyone, including myself. I'm still pondering and parsing a dream I had last weekend, but that's a matter for another time-- a time when I am feeling philosophical. Right now I'm just glad it's the weekend, glad Lance has won his last Tour and we can watch some real competition next year, and glad the random violence of the world has yet to happen here in my city. It's really not such a terrible thing to have a dull week.
Recent Workouts
Last Saturday: 15 mile run
Last Sunday: 1.5 hour bike, Spinervals 9.0 Have Mercy (skipped last 30 min of 2 hour video)
Monday: 45 minute core and strength training, 4 mile run (speedwork)
Tuesday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run (brick), 45 minute bike - Spinervals 3.0 Suffer-O-Rama
Wednesday: 15 minute core workout, 45 minute elliptical
Thursday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run (brick)
Friday: 45 minute core and strength training
Saturday: 15 mile run
Last weekend's run was almost wholly uneventful. I did three loops on the bayou trail with some mandatory walk breaks where the trail was excessively mud-covered. I'm not talking about a little of the ordinary stuff. This was several inches thick and of the slippery-slimy variety that you can't run in and can barely walk through without having a foot slide out from beneath you. So I walked these parts. Carefully.
When Dan decided not to go to his cousin's vow renewal ceremony that afternoon, I shed no tears and gratefully settled in for a long Saturday post-run nap. We watched an old German movie later in the evening and stayed up late. We felt no need to hit the hay eary because we didn't like the look of the weather forecast for Sunday's Katy Flatlands ride and figured we'd just stay home instead. It turned out to be a good call because thunderstorms moved into the area around 11 the next day and my massage therapist (a Cat 3 cyclist) told me that they hit Katy around 10:30 as she was getting ready to head home. Since Mary is much, much faster than I am, I can safely assume that I would've been caught in the storm had I done the ride.
My workweek was meeting-rific, but low on boss interference. One boss was in meetings most of the time and the other was on vacation. We finished getting our current fiscal year records audit-ready and are starting on last year's records now. Ho-hum. How many more years of this before I can retire?
I got my hair cut, but I'm not sure if I like it. The guy cut it a lot shorter than I really wanted and about an inch shorter than I thought we had agreed on. He fixed the bangs though, which means when I brush them out of my face, they stay that way. That's pretty cool. And the hairstyle is really quite nice, modern and versatile. It's just shorter than I've had it since '98 and I still find it a bit weird. I don't freak out over these things like I would've when I was younger, though. Age, experience and a nice assortment of hair products really boost a gal's confidence. I can style almost any cut a hundred different ways, and at least a dozen of them are sure to make me happy.
Today's long run featured a baby bunny and... turtles!
I did my old Memorial Drive to Chimney Rock route after a loop around the bayou trail, which was where I saw the tiny cottontail learning where to find the best grass. Then I ran up Memorial Drive, past the bike and running loops. Just beyond the railroad tracks, I noticed they had leveled and laid down some gravel on the little unofficial trail that some of us have made between the official park trail and the turn off Memorial to the polo grounds. Having a finished trail was nice because with all the rain we've had I was expecting that portion of the run to be like soup. Instead it was nice, well-drained gravel with no sucking mud or branches to trip me up. When I got to the intersection of Memorial and the 610 Loop I found the streetlights out, which made crossing a bit of an adventure, but the run up to Chimney Rock was nicer than I'd remembered, not having done it for awhile.
One problem I kept having today involved my fuel belt. I've had it a few years and one of the elastic bottle holders has gotten loose and misshapen. Today it was at the point of no return and I kept losing one of my stupid bottles. On the third time, about half a mile from Chimney Rock, I decided enough was enough. I carried it in my hand until I reached a little office building with a pond and benches that I had passed many times before. I figured it would be a good place to stop in case I needed a bench to set things on while I devised a temporary fix for my fuel belt. As it turned out, the bench was too wet to be of any use and I didn't need to set anything down after all. I had a baggie in my fuel belt pocket that I always keep there in case I run across some nice looking clover or dandelions for the bunny. I made a few strategic tears, twisted it into a long cord and wove it through the faulty bottle holder in a way that I can't really describe except to say that it held the bottle nicely. There's a reason my husband calls me MacGyver.
As I was leaving the little park I noticed a turtle sunning itself on a rock in the pond. I had no idea there were any animals in the pond, so I stopped to look at it. And almost immediately dozens of little turtle snouts appeared at the surface from points all across the pond and started moving toward me. Moments later I was surrounded by turtles, all looking at me expectantly with their solemn, hooded eyes. I guess now we know what the office workers there do with their leftovers from lunch, don't we? "I don't have anything for you," I informed them. I felt a little bad disappointing them, but life can be tough in a small pond.
And that's about all I have to say about anything tonight. I'm not feeling particularly philosophical, I have no words of wisdom for anyone, including myself. I'm still pondering and parsing a dream I had last weekend, but that's a matter for another time-- a time when I am feeling philosophical. Right now I'm just glad it's the weekend, glad Lance has won his last Tour and we can watch some real competition next year, and glad the random violence of the world has yet to happen here in my city. It's really not such a terrible thing to have a dull week.
Recent Workouts
Last Saturday: 15 mile run
Last Sunday: 1.5 hour bike, Spinervals 9.0 Have Mercy (skipped last 30 min of 2 hour video)
Monday: 45 minute core and strength training, 4 mile run (speedwork)
Tuesday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run (brick), 45 minute bike - Spinervals 3.0 Suffer-O-Rama
Wednesday: 15 minute core workout, 45 minute elliptical
Thursday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run (brick)
Friday: 45 minute core and strength training
Saturday: 15 mile run
Friday, July 15, 2005
Rescue Day
Today marks one year since Tidbit came home from the shelter. Her friends threw her a little party to celebrate.
Enjoy, Tid! Thanks for being my little buddy.
In other news, the reports of rain and flooding in Houston are not exaggerated! For two days in a row I couldn't get to the campus building I needed to go to in order to drop off some important documents for signatures. Twice I needed to take alternate routes home and once none of my favorite alternates were available and I had to rely on the old "drive toward the big buildings and figure it out from there" standby from when I was eighteen and didn't know the city very well.
But there are advantages to living almost in the shadow of the downtown skyscrapers-- all roads eventually lead home.
They're predicting rain for the rest of the weekend, so we'll have to see how that impacts my plans, if at all. There's my usual Saturday morning long run, then there's the Katy Flatlands bike ride on Sunday. Saturday afternoon is Dan's cousin's vow renewal, which I'm not too hip on attending, so maybe it will be raining and Dan won't want to go. If he goes though, I'll go. It's the least I can do, since he's going to subject himself to a night of suburb-bred strangers and 80s pop music at my high school reunion later this month. My dear inner-city punk rocker is very brave!
And finally, we have a date for the burial of my grandmother's ashes. I will be going up to New England on August 5, returning on the 8th or 9th. I'm still trying to work out the return details but I hope to have that all figured out by the end of the weekend. My aunt and uncle have some mementos for me to sort through and I'll also be picking up a very lovely picture of my mother-- a picture my grandmother tried to give me years ago but that I refused to take while she was alive even though I wanted it very badly. Now it's mine and I need to figure out where I will put it.
And that's about all the excitement around here, other than a lot of office stuff that's of no interest to anyone besides me and my co-workers. And it's not all that interesting even to us.
Happy Rescue Day, Tidbit!
Recent Workouts
Tuesday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run, 35 minute bike - Spinervals 1.0 No Slackers Allowed
Wednesday: 45 minutes core and strength training, 5 mile run
Thursday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run, 35 minute bike - Cyclerobx
Friday: 45 minutes core and strength training
Enjoy, Tid! Thanks for being my little buddy.
In other news, the reports of rain and flooding in Houston are not exaggerated! For two days in a row I couldn't get to the campus building I needed to go to in order to drop off some important documents for signatures. Twice I needed to take alternate routes home and once none of my favorite alternates were available and I had to rely on the old "drive toward the big buildings and figure it out from there" standby from when I was eighteen and didn't know the city very well.
But there are advantages to living almost in the shadow of the downtown skyscrapers-- all roads eventually lead home.
They're predicting rain for the rest of the weekend, so we'll have to see how that impacts my plans, if at all. There's my usual Saturday morning long run, then there's the Katy Flatlands bike ride on Sunday. Saturday afternoon is Dan's cousin's vow renewal, which I'm not too hip on attending, so maybe it will be raining and Dan won't want to go. If he goes though, I'll go. It's the least I can do, since he's going to subject himself to a night of suburb-bred strangers and 80s pop music at my high school reunion later this month. My dear inner-city punk rocker is very brave!
And finally, we have a date for the burial of my grandmother's ashes. I will be going up to New England on August 5, returning on the 8th or 9th. I'm still trying to work out the return details but I hope to have that all figured out by the end of the weekend. My aunt and uncle have some mementos for me to sort through and I'll also be picking up a very lovely picture of my mother-- a picture my grandmother tried to give me years ago but that I refused to take while she was alive even though I wanted it very badly. Now it's mine and I need to figure out where I will put it.
And that's about all the excitement around here, other than a lot of office stuff that's of no interest to anyone besides me and my co-workers. And it's not all that interesting even to us.
Happy Rescue Day, Tidbit!
Recent Workouts
Tuesday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run, 35 minute bike - Spinervals 1.0 No Slackers Allowed
Wednesday: 45 minutes core and strength training, 5 mile run
Thursday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run, 35 minute bike - Cyclerobx
Friday: 45 minutes core and strength training
Monday, July 11, 2005
The Y
I've always liked our downtown YMCA. It's an older building, tall and made of brown brick, carved up on the inside into lots of floors, hallways, stairwells and funny little rooms, some with colorful old mosaics, murals and interesting exposed piping. You never quite forget you're in an old building and you can get turned around in there pretty easily.
But what I like best is that it reminds me of the YWCA in Muncie, which is architecturally similar. One summer when I was a kid, my mother enrolled me in a day camp at the Muncie Y. We did a lot of fun things there. We played games and did sports during the morning, ate our lunches (brought from home) in a dark, funky room in the basement, then spent the afternoon doing crafts. Some of those crafts would be considered too dangerous for kids today because they involved wires and hot plastic. But I guess we had better sense than modern kids because no one got hurt and we all had a great time.
Our summer program also included swimming lessons. Unfortunately for me, I was prone to ear and throat infections and could not participate. In the '70s they didn't put tubes in a kid's ears, they just said to stay out of the water. So I and about a half dozen other kids who also couldn't get in the water for one reason or another would sit in the bleachers and watch the other kids swim. (The pool area was huge, with multiple pools and stadium seating.) During the swim lessons we non-swimmers were under the guardianship of a wonderful young man whose name I no longer remember. He was the first black man I had ever met and although I had been told by my father that black people were no different from anyone else, I felt pretty sure Daddy was wrong-- this guy was better! He told us jokes and stories. He taught us rhymes, tongue-twisters and games involving pieces of string. He taught us songs, too:
Jeremiah was a bullfrog,
He was a good friend of mine…
I don't know who this guy was and I have no idea what ever happened to him, but I wish there were a way I could pick up the phone and call him. I would tell him that he was the most fun ever and he kept a lot of four and five year olds from feeling sad while our friends got to splash in the water. He made us feel like we were the lucky ones. I would tell him that it took thirty years, but I finally learned how to swim and I do triathlons now. I would tell him I've never forgotten him and that he has a special place in my heart.
Joy to the world,
All the boys and girls.
Joy to the fishies in the deep blue sea,
Joy to you and me.
Recent Workouts
Sunday: 90 minutes bike, Spinervals 5.0 Mental Toughness
Monday: 45 minutes core and strength training, 5 mile run
But what I like best is that it reminds me of the YWCA in Muncie, which is architecturally similar. One summer when I was a kid, my mother enrolled me in a day camp at the Muncie Y. We did a lot of fun things there. We played games and did sports during the morning, ate our lunches (brought from home) in a dark, funky room in the basement, then spent the afternoon doing crafts. Some of those crafts would be considered too dangerous for kids today because they involved wires and hot plastic. But I guess we had better sense than modern kids because no one got hurt and we all had a great time.
Our summer program also included swimming lessons. Unfortunately for me, I was prone to ear and throat infections and could not participate. In the '70s they didn't put tubes in a kid's ears, they just said to stay out of the water. So I and about a half dozen other kids who also couldn't get in the water for one reason or another would sit in the bleachers and watch the other kids swim. (The pool area was huge, with multiple pools and stadium seating.) During the swim lessons we non-swimmers were under the guardianship of a wonderful young man whose name I no longer remember. He was the first black man I had ever met and although I had been told by my father that black people were no different from anyone else, I felt pretty sure Daddy was wrong-- this guy was better! He told us jokes and stories. He taught us rhymes, tongue-twisters and games involving pieces of string. He taught us songs, too:
Jeremiah was a bullfrog,
He was a good friend of mine…
I don't know who this guy was and I have no idea what ever happened to him, but I wish there were a way I could pick up the phone and call him. I would tell him that he was the most fun ever and he kept a lot of four and five year olds from feeling sad while our friends got to splash in the water. He made us feel like we were the lucky ones. I would tell him that it took thirty years, but I finally learned how to swim and I do triathlons now. I would tell him I've never forgotten him and that he has a special place in my heart.
Joy to the world,
All the boys and girls.
Joy to the fishies in the deep blue sea,
Joy to you and me.
Recent Workouts
Sunday: 90 minutes bike, Spinervals 5.0 Mental Toughness
Monday: 45 minutes core and strength training, 5 mile run
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Weekend Musings
This morning I had a nice solid run. My legs felt a little heavy from having increased my mileage since coming back from vacation, but other than that it was a good run. The threat of rain kept things cool, so there was no repeat of last weekend's heat and humidity troubles. It was a pretty boring run, actually. I spent my time thinking about things, but didn't see anything interesting or unusual out there, except for the crowd of runners who gathered in the Shell station to have a group photo taken. I was in there filling my fuel belt bottles with cold water and couldn't figure out what the commotion was about. Why would you want your picture taken inside a gas station?
My parents took off for California today. They'll be there for two weeks, then in New Mexico for a week before returning to Texas at the end of the month. I haven't heard of their safe arrival, but I haven't heard of any plane crashes either, so I'm guessing they're having a good time. Let's hope those Southern California fault lines stay quiet!
And while natural disasters are on my mind, good luck to my friend Mark in Mobile! It looks like Dennis is heading for the Florida panhandle, but that's close enough to bring a lot of rain to southern 'Bamy, and hurricanes being the unpredictable things that they are, I'd hesitate to say Mobile is out of the woods quite yet. At the very least they look like they're in for a lot of rain and maybe some tornados.
And in the category of unnatural disasters, what's with the London bombings? Why do some people think blowing up ordinary citizens ever solves anything? Governments tend to respond to that sort of thing with a "kill anyone we think is a terrorist" campaign and things just go from bad to worse. I worry that we're living on the leading edge of a much more brutal and chaotic world and I don't like it.
This whole week was sort of unsettled, both in the macro and the micro.
At the micro (personal) level, I had to deal with car issues, an assistant on vacation and lots of nuisance-quality things at work. And meetings. Lots of those. If one can guage one's importance by the number of meetings they're required to attend, I'm very important, indeed! Unfortunately, meetings seem to rarely be more than a whole lotta talk while the real work goes undone. If everyone could stay on topic and get to the point, we could reduce the time we spend in meetings by at least half, if not a whole lot more.
Here's how a typical meeting might go in my perfect world:
Organizer: Did everyone read the list of things to do ahead of the audit?
Attendees: Yes.
Organizer: Have you started working on these items?
Attendees: Yes.
Organizer: Any problems or questions?
Attendees: No.
Organizer: Great! Here's a deadline for having FY05 items audit-ready, and here's a deadline for FY04. Call if you have questions or if I can help in any way. Meeting adjourned!
Now why is that so hard?
Okay, since I was tagged earlier this week by Wil to reveal my addictions, I guess I had better 'fess up. The odd truth of the matter is that I'm in a highly unusual addiction-free spell right now. It's cool but weird at the same time. So I'll answer by listing some of my past addictions:
Uh... anyone notice a pattern here?
Hopeless sugar addict? Me? You don't say!
Recent Workouts
Tuesday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run, 45 minute bike - Spinervals 3.0 Suffer-O-Rama
Wednesday: 45 minute core and strength training, 5 mile run
Thursday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run, 35 minute bike - Cyclerobx
Friday: 45 minute core and strength training
Saturday: 15 mile run
My parents took off for California today. They'll be there for two weeks, then in New Mexico for a week before returning to Texas at the end of the month. I haven't heard of their safe arrival, but I haven't heard of any plane crashes either, so I'm guessing they're having a good time. Let's hope those Southern California fault lines stay quiet!
And while natural disasters are on my mind, good luck to my friend Mark in Mobile! It looks like Dennis is heading for the Florida panhandle, but that's close enough to bring a lot of rain to southern 'Bamy, and hurricanes being the unpredictable things that they are, I'd hesitate to say Mobile is out of the woods quite yet. At the very least they look like they're in for a lot of rain and maybe some tornados.
And in the category of unnatural disasters, what's with the London bombings? Why do some people think blowing up ordinary citizens ever solves anything? Governments tend to respond to that sort of thing with a "kill anyone we think is a terrorist" campaign and things just go from bad to worse. I worry that we're living on the leading edge of a much more brutal and chaotic world and I don't like it.
This whole week was sort of unsettled, both in the macro and the micro.
At the micro (personal) level, I had to deal with car issues, an assistant on vacation and lots of nuisance-quality things at work. And meetings. Lots of those. If one can guage one's importance by the number of meetings they're required to attend, I'm very important, indeed! Unfortunately, meetings seem to rarely be more than a whole lotta talk while the real work goes undone. If everyone could stay on topic and get to the point, we could reduce the time we spend in meetings by at least half, if not a whole lot more.
Here's how a typical meeting might go in my perfect world:
Organizer: Did everyone read the list of things to do ahead of the audit?
Attendees: Yes.
Organizer: Have you started working on these items?
Attendees: Yes.
Organizer: Any problems or questions?
Attendees: No.
Organizer: Great! Here's a deadline for having FY05 items audit-ready, and here's a deadline for FY04. Call if you have questions or if I can help in any way. Meeting adjourned!
Now why is that so hard?
Okay, since I was tagged earlier this week by Wil to reveal my addictions, I guess I had better 'fess up. The odd truth of the matter is that I'm in a highly unusual addiction-free spell right now. It's cool but weird at the same time. So I'll answer by listing some of my past addictions:
- Animal Cookies
- Baker's Breakfast Cookies
- Chocolate-covered coffee beans
- Peanut Butter Puffins cereal
- Peanut Butter/Chocolate Chip Puffins cereal bars
- Cinnamon graham crackers
- Peanut butter-oatmeal no-bake cookies (homemade)
- Whole Foods "oreos"
- Ginger snaps
Uh... anyone notice a pattern here?
Hopeless sugar addict? Me? You don't say!
Recent Workouts
Tuesday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run, 45 minute bike - Spinervals 3.0 Suffer-O-Rama
Wednesday: 45 minute core and strength training, 5 mile run
Thursday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run, 35 minute bike - Cyclerobx
Friday: 45 minute core and strength training
Saturday: 15 mile run
Monday, July 04, 2005
Fourth of July
My holiday started at 4:30 am so we could get our bikes and gear together, drive 50 miles to the ride start and be there with enough time to register and get ready to ride. I half-expected Dan to bail out on me, but he didn't and we were off to points north!
We found the ride start-- a small private school for mentally challenged children -- with only minor difficulties, hidden as it was in the woods and on the opposite side of the road from where my internet driving instructions had told me to look. No matter, we arrived in good time, parked under a tree and got our ride packets which included red, white and blue tie-dye looking t-shirts and a little artsy-craftsy pin of red white and blue stars. I didn't know what to do with the pin, so I attached it to my dashboard cover, along with the flourescent bicycle pin I got at a ride last year. If this keeps up, I'll have an entire collection!
We leisurely put our bikes together and selected the bottles, gels and supplements we wanted to take while listening to other riders talk about Lance Armstrong. Then I wandered off to find a restroom (running water-- hooray!) and annoy the cats that were slinking around watching all the activity. The school seemed nice, but obviously in need of more funding, which made me feel better about the rather steep $40 fee. It's one thing to do a charity ride, another thing entirely to actually see the operation your money is helping, especially when it's a small local place.
And how appropriate is it that a school for the mentally challenged was putting on a bike ride during a heat wave? Should they or we be signing up as clients?
After the head of the Woodlands cycling club gave a long-winded point-by-point description of the route map we all had in our pockets, we set off just a bit after 7:30. It was a very pleasant route with plenty of shade and smooth pavement. Constables cleared the intersections for us when we rode through the little town of Willis and again when we had to cross the freeway. Nice.
It was a 31 mile route, so if you wanted to do a metric, you had to ride it twice. That was my plan, as I set out. We started off with a tailwind and a lot of downhills, but soon had to settle in to the real work of some long inclines. A guy in a red jersey and I kept passing each other on the way up to the turnaround. He would get me on the technical things like railroad tracks and steep downhills with a tight turn at the bottom, then I would catch him on the uphills. I may not be fast, but I'm a steady hill climber and always have been. After we made our little turnaround and headed back toward the school, I passed him again. "I'll see you in a few!" he shouted.
"Sure!" I called back in a friendly way. But mentally I added, "Like hell you will." I hammered the next few hills with my hamstrings protesting that it was only our first run at hills this season, but it worked. I didn't see Mr. Redjersey again until the finish.
Heading back to the school, the wind was starting to pick up. I had been able to stay above 18 mph on the way out, but now the gusts of hot wind put me down to 15 and 16 on the flats, 12 and even 9 on the steeper hills. I'm embarrassed to say I had to use my small chainring, something that never happens when I'm in good hill form. I was less than a mile from finishing the 31 mile route when I saw a girl stopped on the side of the road. I slowed down and asked if she needed any help, but she said she was resting. Wow. She must've been pretty tired to need to rest with the finish just over the next hill!
And then I was done. I turned in on the gravel driveway, rested the bike against a fence and joined a few other riders around the water coolers. The water was so cold and so good! And now with no more self-generated breeze, I realized that it was pretty hot out. I was completely drenched, which I hadn't noticed before. Other riders came in and no one seemed interested in doing another loop. They were standing around talking about their plans for later in the day, laughing, discussing how they would enjoy the holiday.
Holiday? Hm. Yes, it was a holiday, wasn't it? I had thoroughly enjoyed this little bike ride, but would I enjoy doing it again as the temperature climbed and the wind increased? Would I enjoy working my hamstrings to exhaustion instead of leaving myself fresh for the week's training? Would I enjoy feeling like I had to push myself every mile of the way because Dan was waiting while I rode another 31 miles?
Somehow, I just didn't think doing a second loop would be nearly as much fun as the first, so I decided to call it a day. I felt like a total wimp, but as the cheerful voices all around me kept remindng me, it was a holiday and I was supposed to be having fun. A hard training ride could wait for another day.
Dan and I went for lunch at our Indian restaurant, then spent the afternoon napping, making up for the previous night's 1:30 am bedtime and 4:30 am wakeup call. Then we spent a lazy evening at home, periodically asking each other if we should go out to our usual fireworks-watching spot at Rice University. Somehow, we just didn't feel like we had to keep that nine year old tradition. And as it turns out, we were rewarded! We were able to watch the Galleria fireworks from our kitchen window and the downtown fireworks from the balcony outside our door. All these years of driving to see fireworks and there were two great shows right here at home!
I guess it's true what the say, that sometimes what you're looking for is right in your own back yard.
Recent Workouts
Sunday: 3 mile run, 2 mile walk
Monday: 31 mile bike ride - hills
We found the ride start-- a small private school for mentally challenged children -- with only minor difficulties, hidden as it was in the woods and on the opposite side of the road from where my internet driving instructions had told me to look. No matter, we arrived in good time, parked under a tree and got our ride packets which included red, white and blue tie-dye looking t-shirts and a little artsy-craftsy pin of red white and blue stars. I didn't know what to do with the pin, so I attached it to my dashboard cover, along with the flourescent bicycle pin I got at a ride last year. If this keeps up, I'll have an entire collection!
We leisurely put our bikes together and selected the bottles, gels and supplements we wanted to take while listening to other riders talk about Lance Armstrong. Then I wandered off to find a restroom (running water-- hooray!) and annoy the cats that were slinking around watching all the activity. The school seemed nice, but obviously in need of more funding, which made me feel better about the rather steep $40 fee. It's one thing to do a charity ride, another thing entirely to actually see the operation your money is helping, especially when it's a small local place.
And how appropriate is it that a school for the mentally challenged was putting on a bike ride during a heat wave? Should they or we be signing up as clients?
After the head of the Woodlands cycling club gave a long-winded point-by-point description of the route map we all had in our pockets, we set off just a bit after 7:30. It was a very pleasant route with plenty of shade and smooth pavement. Constables cleared the intersections for us when we rode through the little town of Willis and again when we had to cross the freeway. Nice.
It was a 31 mile route, so if you wanted to do a metric, you had to ride it twice. That was my plan, as I set out. We started off with a tailwind and a lot of downhills, but soon had to settle in to the real work of some long inclines. A guy in a red jersey and I kept passing each other on the way up to the turnaround. He would get me on the technical things like railroad tracks and steep downhills with a tight turn at the bottom, then I would catch him on the uphills. I may not be fast, but I'm a steady hill climber and always have been. After we made our little turnaround and headed back toward the school, I passed him again. "I'll see you in a few!" he shouted.
"Sure!" I called back in a friendly way. But mentally I added, "Like hell you will." I hammered the next few hills with my hamstrings protesting that it was only our first run at hills this season, but it worked. I didn't see Mr. Redjersey again until the finish.
Heading back to the school, the wind was starting to pick up. I had been able to stay above 18 mph on the way out, but now the gusts of hot wind put me down to 15 and 16 on the flats, 12 and even 9 on the steeper hills. I'm embarrassed to say I had to use my small chainring, something that never happens when I'm in good hill form. I was less than a mile from finishing the 31 mile route when I saw a girl stopped on the side of the road. I slowed down and asked if she needed any help, but she said she was resting. Wow. She must've been pretty tired to need to rest with the finish just over the next hill!
And then I was done. I turned in on the gravel driveway, rested the bike against a fence and joined a few other riders around the water coolers. The water was so cold and so good! And now with no more self-generated breeze, I realized that it was pretty hot out. I was completely drenched, which I hadn't noticed before. Other riders came in and no one seemed interested in doing another loop. They were standing around talking about their plans for later in the day, laughing, discussing how they would enjoy the holiday.
Holiday? Hm. Yes, it was a holiday, wasn't it? I had thoroughly enjoyed this little bike ride, but would I enjoy doing it again as the temperature climbed and the wind increased? Would I enjoy working my hamstrings to exhaustion instead of leaving myself fresh for the week's training? Would I enjoy feeling like I had to push myself every mile of the way because Dan was waiting while I rode another 31 miles?
Somehow, I just didn't think doing a second loop would be nearly as much fun as the first, so I decided to call it a day. I felt like a total wimp, but as the cheerful voices all around me kept remindng me, it was a holiday and I was supposed to be having fun. A hard training ride could wait for another day.
Dan and I went for lunch at our Indian restaurant, then spent the afternoon napping, making up for the previous night's 1:30 am bedtime and 4:30 am wakeup call. Then we spent a lazy evening at home, periodically asking each other if we should go out to our usual fireworks-watching spot at Rice University. Somehow, we just didn't feel like we had to keep that nine year old tradition. And as it turns out, we were rewarded! We were able to watch the Galleria fireworks from our kitchen window and the downtown fireworks from the balcony outside our door. All these years of driving to see fireworks and there were two great shows right here at home!
I guess it's true what the say, that sometimes what you're looking for is right in your own back yard.
Recent Workouts
Sunday: 3 mile run, 2 mile walk
Monday: 31 mile bike ride - hills
Saturday, July 02, 2005
It's Not The Heat...
It started out to be a good run.
I got a massage yesterday because I was so stiff and sore from recently increasing my mileage that I knew I'd be miserable today if I didn't get Mary to fix me up. And she did, miracle worker that she is.
It helped, but other forces were at work.
So like I said, it started out to be a good run. Even though they've been putting up tents and fences around parts of the bayou trail in preparation for the July 4 festivities, I decided to start with the bayou loop, figuring the trails were probably not blocked off yet. I saw my cottontail in his usual spot and noticed he had acquired a few friends. Yay, bunnies! I was a little concerned for them because of all the dry brown grass from a month of no rain, but rabbits have evolved to live on dry grass, so I'm sure they're fine. If I remember though, maybe I'll take them some greens next weekend.
As I got closer to Sabine, the annual fencing was up and I saw where the fireworks had been staged. Coming up the Allen Parkway side of the trails, I had to weave through some tents, but nothing was blocked off to us. I don't know if they leave the trails open to be nice or what, but I'm always glad of it. Even on festival days, they let the runners through until almost the last minute. We're a pretty harmless lot, I suppose.
I had an urge to run through River Oaks today, which turned out to be a good idea because of all the shade afforded by the big trees and fancy landscaping that rich people can so easily afford. Just as I turned into the neighborhood, I noticed a Team In Training water/Gatorade setup and two volunteers. Aha, that explains all the crowds of runners out on the trails, although it doesn't explain what they're training for. It's too early to be doing long mileage in preparation for the Houston Marathon. New York, maybe? San Antonio?
I also noticed that the volunteers had two tiny kittens at their feet, so of course I stopped to check them out. They were tiny, damp and dirty. The volunteers said they were keeping them for one of the runners, who had found them abandoned. Poor things. We runners and cyclists seem to always be finding abandoned animals. My massage therapist (a Cat 3 cyclist) and her training buddies find puppies and kittens all the time. I can't think how often I've been out on a ride and noticed some guy pedaling along with a kitten poking out of his jersey pocket, a little souvenir of his ride. And my first bunny was one Dan and I found abandoned at the park after an evening run.
Good thing for America's abandoned pets that so many of us like animals, I guess.
So after I checked out the kittens, I went into River Oaks and ran a few of my usual loops. When I ran low on water, I ran up to St John Episcopal on a hunch that I could refuel there. I guessed right, but I don't think I'll make the church a regular stop because I felt very out of place, damp and dirty in such a quiet and clean place. Not that Jesus would've cared, of course, but just the same I think I'll put St John's on my "Emergency Use Only" list.
As I was nearing the last of my River Oaks loops and had gone about ten miles I started to notice my thoughts turning often to thoughts of ice-cold water, canteloupe, popsicles and chilly hikes on Monhegan Island. I was disappointed that the sprinklers, which had seemed to be running at every house on my first pass through, were now off. My legs weren't particularly tired, but my body was starting to get kind of fussy, suggesting that it was time to either head home or find a cold water fountain.
Ah, a cold water fountain. I knew of two within a two-mile radius, but both posed problems for my scheduled route and mileage. I had time to think though, so I trotted along, increasingly thirsty for cold water, not the warm stuff in my bottles, unable to come up with any sort of decision as to how to finish my run. Going back around the bayou sounded like the most fun, but there was no cold water, just the lukewarm stuff. Kroger had cold water, but didn't work into my route very well. The Shell station on Memorial had cold water, but I didn't want to run on treeless Memorial on such a warm day.
Decisions, decisions. Why could I not make up my mind?
I finally decided to go up to the Shell station and maybe to the picnic loop to see the cyclists afterwards. But once I'd had some cold water and filled my fuel belt bottles with the same, I just couldn't stomach the notion of going anywhere but home. Well, it was pretty warm out and I didn't feel as coordinated as I usually am. Not scary-stumbly or anything, just a little sluggish and more prone to trip than usual.
So I headed home.
Just as I got near the footbridge that would put me in the park by my apartment, I noticed an ambulance and fire truck up ahead. Curious and worried that a runner I knew might be hurt, I picked up my pace. (Odd. My legs still had plenty of spunk, so why the general sluggishness?) When I got to the ambulance, I saw a young female runner sitting inside, sweaty and exhausted, talking with the medics. I guess she collapsed and someone called 911. Not surprising on a day like this. Good thing they sent a fire truck. Maybe they could hose her down.
Suddenly it occurred to me that even though it was only ten o'clock, it was pretty darn warm out and the trails had nearly emptied of runners and cyclists.
I went home and found Dan on the computer. "Heat index is going to get up to 110 today," he remarked as I drank some cold water and stirred some dried cranberries into a jar of yogurt.
"Hm." I wasn't too impressed. It's been like that all week. "What is it right now?" I took some bags of frozen corn out of the fridge so I could ice down my legs.
"88."
88? That's it? I shouldn't have died on a long run at only 88. Wow, am I a wuss or what?
"Heat index, 98."
Oh. Well that explains everything, doesn't it? All of a sudden I didn't feel so bad that I had shorted my run by about 2-3 miles.
After I iced down and showered, I got ready to go have Indian food while watching the Tour prologue. I guess Lance showed Jan, didn't he? Poor Jan. If Lance hadn't survived cancer, Jan would've been the greatest cyclist of his generation.
It's always something, isn't it? No matter what your gifts and blessings in life, you still can't take anything for granted. Jan did, Lance didn't and the rest is history.
In other news, Dan got some German silent films for us to watch this weekend, and he also found a July 4 organized ride for us in Conroe. I suspect it will be over some of the route from last fall's half ironman, so that ought to be fun!
Recent Workouts
Wednesday: 45 minutes core and strength training, 4 mile run
Thursday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run (brick), 35 minute spin (Cyclerobx)
Friday: 45 minutes core and strength training
Saturday: 13 mile run
I got a massage yesterday because I was so stiff and sore from recently increasing my mileage that I knew I'd be miserable today if I didn't get Mary to fix me up. And she did, miracle worker that she is.
It helped, but other forces were at work.
So like I said, it started out to be a good run. Even though they've been putting up tents and fences around parts of the bayou trail in preparation for the July 4 festivities, I decided to start with the bayou loop, figuring the trails were probably not blocked off yet. I saw my cottontail in his usual spot and noticed he had acquired a few friends. Yay, bunnies! I was a little concerned for them because of all the dry brown grass from a month of no rain, but rabbits have evolved to live on dry grass, so I'm sure they're fine. If I remember though, maybe I'll take them some greens next weekend.
As I got closer to Sabine, the annual fencing was up and I saw where the fireworks had been staged. Coming up the Allen Parkway side of the trails, I had to weave through some tents, but nothing was blocked off to us. I don't know if they leave the trails open to be nice or what, but I'm always glad of it. Even on festival days, they let the runners through until almost the last minute. We're a pretty harmless lot, I suppose.
I had an urge to run through River Oaks today, which turned out to be a good idea because of all the shade afforded by the big trees and fancy landscaping that rich people can so easily afford. Just as I turned into the neighborhood, I noticed a Team In Training water/Gatorade setup and two volunteers. Aha, that explains all the crowds of runners out on the trails, although it doesn't explain what they're training for. It's too early to be doing long mileage in preparation for the Houston Marathon. New York, maybe? San Antonio?
I also noticed that the volunteers had two tiny kittens at their feet, so of course I stopped to check them out. They were tiny, damp and dirty. The volunteers said they were keeping them for one of the runners, who had found them abandoned. Poor things. We runners and cyclists seem to always be finding abandoned animals. My massage therapist (a Cat 3 cyclist) and her training buddies find puppies and kittens all the time. I can't think how often I've been out on a ride and noticed some guy pedaling along with a kitten poking out of his jersey pocket, a little souvenir of his ride. And my first bunny was one Dan and I found abandoned at the park after an evening run.
Good thing for America's abandoned pets that so many of us like animals, I guess.
So after I checked out the kittens, I went into River Oaks and ran a few of my usual loops. When I ran low on water, I ran up to St John Episcopal on a hunch that I could refuel there. I guessed right, but I don't think I'll make the church a regular stop because I felt very out of place, damp and dirty in such a quiet and clean place. Not that Jesus would've cared, of course, but just the same I think I'll put St John's on my "Emergency Use Only" list.
As I was nearing the last of my River Oaks loops and had gone about ten miles I started to notice my thoughts turning often to thoughts of ice-cold water, canteloupe, popsicles and chilly hikes on Monhegan Island. I was disappointed that the sprinklers, which had seemed to be running at every house on my first pass through, were now off. My legs weren't particularly tired, but my body was starting to get kind of fussy, suggesting that it was time to either head home or find a cold water fountain.
Ah, a cold water fountain. I knew of two within a two-mile radius, but both posed problems for my scheduled route and mileage. I had time to think though, so I trotted along, increasingly thirsty for cold water, not the warm stuff in my bottles, unable to come up with any sort of decision as to how to finish my run. Going back around the bayou sounded like the most fun, but there was no cold water, just the lukewarm stuff. Kroger had cold water, but didn't work into my route very well. The Shell station on Memorial had cold water, but I didn't want to run on treeless Memorial on such a warm day.
Decisions, decisions. Why could I not make up my mind?
I finally decided to go up to the Shell station and maybe to the picnic loop to see the cyclists afterwards. But once I'd had some cold water and filled my fuel belt bottles with the same, I just couldn't stomach the notion of going anywhere but home. Well, it was pretty warm out and I didn't feel as coordinated as I usually am. Not scary-stumbly or anything, just a little sluggish and more prone to trip than usual.
So I headed home.
Just as I got near the footbridge that would put me in the park by my apartment, I noticed an ambulance and fire truck up ahead. Curious and worried that a runner I knew might be hurt, I picked up my pace. (Odd. My legs still had plenty of spunk, so why the general sluggishness?) When I got to the ambulance, I saw a young female runner sitting inside, sweaty and exhausted, talking with the medics. I guess she collapsed and someone called 911. Not surprising on a day like this. Good thing they sent a fire truck. Maybe they could hose her down.
Suddenly it occurred to me that even though it was only ten o'clock, it was pretty darn warm out and the trails had nearly emptied of runners and cyclists.
I went home and found Dan on the computer. "Heat index is going to get up to 110 today," he remarked as I drank some cold water and stirred some dried cranberries into a jar of yogurt.
"Hm." I wasn't too impressed. It's been like that all week. "What is it right now?" I took some bags of frozen corn out of the fridge so I could ice down my legs.
"88."
88? That's it? I shouldn't have died on a long run at only 88. Wow, am I a wuss or what?
"Heat index, 98."
Oh. Well that explains everything, doesn't it? All of a sudden I didn't feel so bad that I had shorted my run by about 2-3 miles.
After I iced down and showered, I got ready to go have Indian food while watching the Tour prologue. I guess Lance showed Jan, didn't he? Poor Jan. If Lance hadn't survived cancer, Jan would've been the greatest cyclist of his generation.
It's always something, isn't it? No matter what your gifts and blessings in life, you still can't take anything for granted. Jan did, Lance didn't and the rest is history.
In other news, Dan got some German silent films for us to watch this weekend, and he also found a July 4 organized ride for us in Conroe. I suspect it will be over some of the route from last fall's half ironman, so that ought to be fun!
Recent Workouts
Wednesday: 45 minutes core and strength training, 4 mile run
Thursday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run (brick), 35 minute spin (Cyclerobx)
Friday: 45 minutes core and strength training
Saturday: 13 mile run
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Swimmin' With The Fishies
I think I'm going to like my new routine of going to the gym before work on Tuesdays and Thursdays. So far the pool has never been so sparsely populated that I could have my own lane, but the folks I've shared with have all been very good swimmers. In fact, I suspect that most of them are from the now-defunct 5:30 am Master's class, because they either bring their own drills in protective plastic covers, or they do the drills left on the board from the evening Master's class.
And why don't I go to Master's class myself, you ask? Well, I tried it for awhile, then went away and did some drills and went back again, but I could never even come close to keeping up with all those Michael Phelps wannabes and I was just in the way. Besides, it's probably not for the best that I spend my evenings hanging around with a handsome, built, Speedo-clad coach named Dirk.
'Nough said, I hope.
Interestingly, the best swim advice I've gotten since my lessons a few years ago came just last week from the fishie I was sharing a lane with. For starters, I knew this girl was good when I saw that she could backstroke and keep to her side of the lane. When she repeated the phenomenon breaststroking, I knew I was in the presence of a swim goddess, or at the very least a minor deity.
So I joined her lane and tried to just stay out of her way, which was a piece of cake, since she was so obviously experienced and although I'm slow, I don't tend to wander much-- I can keep my lane like an expert. I was taking a little breather at the end of the lane, when Fishie stopped and looked at me. "You're a runner, aren't you?"
Wow. Good call. "Is my form that bad?" I laughed.
"Oh, no," Fishie said. "Your form is great. But you're not getting much power from your stroke." She turned to face me sideways and ran a hand down her side, from shoulderblade to hip. "Are you pulling from here?"
I shook my head while a little light bulb turned on in my brain. We continued to chat for a few minutes and the way-too-extroverted-for-so-early-in-the-morning lifeguard strolled over and added his two cents, but Fishie's words had already struck pay dirt. When I hit the water again, instead of pulling with my arms, I focused on pulling with my lats, just like she had shown me.
A miracle! All of a sudden my roll happened naturally, I was gliding through the water on every stroke without having to think about it, and best of all my stroke count dropped like a rock! OMG! How could something so simple have eluded me in all those lessons, books and Master's sessions with *cough* Dirk?
Okay, so I'm not going to be giving the Thorpedo a run for his money any time soon, but huge improvements have been made with almost no effort whatsoever! I've got a long way to go before I can even consider joining the fishies for some training sets, but for the first time I see some potential here for me to be able to maybe tag along on a good day.
I think I'll skip Dirk's class, though.
Recent Workouts
Saturday: 15 mile run
Sunday: 2 hours bike-Spinervals 9.0 Have Mercy, 3 mile walk
Monday: 45 minute core and strength training, 5 mile run
Tuesday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run, 2 mile walk, 35 minute bike-Spinervals 1.0 No Slackers Allowed
And why don't I go to Master's class myself, you ask? Well, I tried it for awhile, then went away and did some drills and went back again, but I could never even come close to keeping up with all those Michael Phelps wannabes and I was just in the way. Besides, it's probably not for the best that I spend my evenings hanging around with a handsome, built, Speedo-clad coach named Dirk.
'Nough said, I hope.
Interestingly, the best swim advice I've gotten since my lessons a few years ago came just last week from the fishie I was sharing a lane with. For starters, I knew this girl was good when I saw that she could backstroke and keep to her side of the lane. When she repeated the phenomenon breaststroking, I knew I was in the presence of a swim goddess, or at the very least a minor deity.
So I joined her lane and tried to just stay out of her way, which was a piece of cake, since she was so obviously experienced and although I'm slow, I don't tend to wander much-- I can keep my lane like an expert. I was taking a little breather at the end of the lane, when Fishie stopped and looked at me. "You're a runner, aren't you?"
Wow. Good call. "Is my form that bad?" I laughed.
"Oh, no," Fishie said. "Your form is great. But you're not getting much power from your stroke." She turned to face me sideways and ran a hand down her side, from shoulderblade to hip. "Are you pulling from here?"
I shook my head while a little light bulb turned on in my brain. We continued to chat for a few minutes and the way-too-extroverted-for-so-early-in-the-morning lifeguard strolled over and added his two cents, but Fishie's words had already struck pay dirt. When I hit the water again, instead of pulling with my arms, I focused on pulling with my lats, just like she had shown me.
A miracle! All of a sudden my roll happened naturally, I was gliding through the water on every stroke without having to think about it, and best of all my stroke count dropped like a rock! OMG! How could something so simple have eluded me in all those lessons, books and Master's sessions with *cough* Dirk?
Okay, so I'm not going to be giving the Thorpedo a run for his money any time soon, but huge improvements have been made with almost no effort whatsoever! I've got a long way to go before I can even consider joining the fishies for some training sets, but for the first time I see some potential here for me to be able to maybe tag along on a good day.
I think I'll skip Dirk's class, though.
Recent Workouts
Saturday: 15 mile run
Sunday: 2 hours bike-Spinervals 9.0 Have Mercy, 3 mile walk
Monday: 45 minute core and strength training, 5 mile run
Tuesday: 1000 meter swim, 1 mile run, 2 mile walk, 35 minute bike-Spinervals 1.0 No Slackers Allowed
Monday, June 20, 2005
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Unintended Tri
I did a triathlon today. At the gym. I didn't plan to, it just sort of happened by accident.
I went to the Y for a spin class, and when the hour was over, I had a sudden notion to go check out the rooftop track, which has been resurfaced recently. My intention was just to run a mile, since I ran long yesterday, but I was having such a good time that I did three miles. I've always liked the rooftop track for some reason. It's best at night though, with the downtown lights sparkling off the glass of the skyscrapers all around. I don't usually go up there in daytime like today, but there was a nice little breeze and it was fun being up there.
After my run, I figured I had better go do what I had originally planned to do after spin class, which was swim. Only one lane was in use, so I could make no excuses and didn't really want to, anyway. I had a lane to myself for the first ten laps, then a guy joined me and started breaststroking. What the--- this makes twice in one week that some clueless bozo with no concept of pool etiquette has gotten in my lane and then interfered with my workout! Word to the clueless: If you have the lane first, do whatever stroke you want. But if you try to join in on someone else's lane, do not breaststroke, backstroke or butterfly unless you make some sort of arrangement with the person who was there first!
Geez, is it that hard to figure out? Do people really need to be told these things?
Anyway, I complained to the lifeguard while the guy was hogging my lane on his way to the other end of the pool. Then I took off, hoping he would stay there long enough for me to swim the length of the pool, since I had no particular desire to get kicked in the face today. I don't know if the lifeguard said something or if the guy grew a brain, but I never got my chance to tell him anything because he changed lanes before I got to him.
Good riddance.
The next guy who wanted to share my lane was sane, polite, and stayed on his side of the lane. Thank goodness. I finished my twenty laps in peace and ended my accidental tri with a relaxing soak in the hot tub followed by a shower.
I picked up some lunch at Central Market before going home, then started a crock pot of veggies for the week. I made my yogurt last night, so that part of my weekly cooking was done. I'll do some brown rice later today and maybe some bread pudding after my regular Sunday evening walk with Dan. I just love it when we have enough old naan and french bread for a batch of bread pudding!
Today's Workouts
1 hour spin class
3 mile run
1000 meter swim
later tonight: 3 mile walk
I went to the Y for a spin class, and when the hour was over, I had a sudden notion to go check out the rooftop track, which has been resurfaced recently. My intention was just to run a mile, since I ran long yesterday, but I was having such a good time that I did three miles. I've always liked the rooftop track for some reason. It's best at night though, with the downtown lights sparkling off the glass of the skyscrapers all around. I don't usually go up there in daytime like today, but there was a nice little breeze and it was fun being up there.
After my run, I figured I had better go do what I had originally planned to do after spin class, which was swim. Only one lane was in use, so I could make no excuses and didn't really want to, anyway. I had a lane to myself for the first ten laps, then a guy joined me and started breaststroking. What the--- this makes twice in one week that some clueless bozo with no concept of pool etiquette has gotten in my lane and then interfered with my workout! Word to the clueless: If you have the lane first, do whatever stroke you want. But if you try to join in on someone else's lane, do not breaststroke, backstroke or butterfly unless you make some sort of arrangement with the person who was there first!
Geez, is it that hard to figure out? Do people really need to be told these things?
Anyway, I complained to the lifeguard while the guy was hogging my lane on his way to the other end of the pool. Then I took off, hoping he would stay there long enough for me to swim the length of the pool, since I had no particular desire to get kicked in the face today. I don't know if the lifeguard said something or if the guy grew a brain, but I never got my chance to tell him anything because he changed lanes before I got to him.
Good riddance.
The next guy who wanted to share my lane was sane, polite, and stayed on his side of the lane. Thank goodness. I finished my twenty laps in peace and ended my accidental tri with a relaxing soak in the hot tub followed by a shower.
I picked up some lunch at Central Market before going home, then started a crock pot of veggies for the week. I made my yogurt last night, so that part of my weekly cooking was done. I'll do some brown rice later today and maybe some bread pudding after my regular Sunday evening walk with Dan. I just love it when we have enough old naan and french bread for a batch of bread pudding!
Today's Workouts
1 hour spin class
3 mile run
1000 meter swim
later tonight: 3 mile walk
Saturday, June 18, 2005
Home Again - One Week Later
I've been back home for a week now and things are finally starting to feel somewhat normal again. I'm back in my old routines, I'm caught up on groceries and laundry, and I've about gotten my brain back at work. Funny how much you forget or lose sight of when you're out of the office a couple of weeks-- What happened with that new hire? Did that purchase go through yet? Is that manager still unhappy about the chairs? Did the furniture specs get reviewed? Are the printers are already here? What the heck is my password???
Now that I've had a week to settle in, I'm going to try doing something new. Since September I've had to be in a late meeting every Tuesday, which has led me to often wish that I could come in late that day, so as not to make it a 10 hour workday. But with a vacancy I wasn't allowed to fill and an assistant whose health was uncertain, I had little choice but to show up every day at 7 to ensure that someone would be there to open doors and handle problems from our early-arriving programmers.
But no more! Right before I left, I got a new person transferred to me-- someone reliable, who I've worked with before. So starting next week I'm going to go to the Y on Tuesday mornings. I'll either swim (if lanes are available) or hit the 6 am spin class. If I like Tuesday mornings, I'll add Thursdays as well. I'm pretty excited about this and I think I'll have a lot of fun with it. And if I don't, well, my weights, music and stretch cords are still waiting for me here at home. Or I can go for early morning runs or something. Either way, some serious early workouts are about to become a reality.
I also picked up a copy of Mark Verstegen's Core Performance this weekend. Already I can see why it's gotten so much praise in triathlon circles. Now that it's out in paperback and available cheap online, I highly recommend it to just about everyone. You don't even have to do sports to benefit from this book-- you just have to want to have a well-functioning body for the rest of your life. But hey, if anyone out there really wants to be a shuffling, hunched over old thing with back and hip problems some day, have at it. I'll even try not to say I told you so.
I had a good run this morning, in spite of being nearly three weeks out from my last massage. I saw my young cottontail in his usual spot on the bayou trail. Funny little thing, it's interesting to watch him grow more confident as early morning runners pass his favorite breakfast spot. I saw a lady walking along the trail inexplicably wearing a washcloth on her head. It wasn't even wet, so I can't imagine what its purpose might have been. And I saw a race going on! I hadn't even known there was a race today, but I was near the outdoor chapel when a tall guy ran past me and then turned off the trail to do a hill repeat on the steep bank. As he ran up toward the street level, I heard cheering. Wow, does this guy have a fan club or something? I turned to look and saw that there were runners passing a water station at street level on Memorial. Hey, where did they come from?
The really odd thing was that when I came around the Allen Parkway side of the bayou, I saw walkers on the street, then some fast runners wearing numbers. It didn't seem likely that this was a 5K fun run/walk because there were so few of them and the route was too long. It was the route of the annual 20K/25K, as far as I could tell. But then I doubted myself because as I got to a spot where I could see Memorial and Allen Parkway simultaneously, it didn't look like it was the same event on each side. Or maybe it was. I'd seen no crossover between the streets at Shepherd or Sabine, but maybe it was someplace in the middle, such as Montrose where the bayou trail goes below the street level and I wouldn't see them. I don't know. It was definitely a race though, because I heard people calling split times. But where did the walkers fit in? Odd.
After running along the bayou, I did a loop through River Oaks, then went up to Memorial Park and did a loop there as well. It wasn't as crowded as it could've been, so I guess the race siphoned off a few folks. Luke's Locker had their Gatorade tent set up, and the ice-cold Gatorade was very welcome.
Then I headed home, encountering only one weirdo on the way-- a lady on the bridge over Memorial that puts me back home. She was striding along briskly, elbows out, hands in the air, waving her fingers. I couldn't figure out if she was practicing chisenbop or doing some sort of mental rehearsal of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," but I passed her twice-- once on the bridge and a second time on my cooldown by the softball park and she was still ambling along, waving her fingers in the air. Very strange.
Tonight I'm trying to decide between going to the Y in the morning for a short spin class and a swim (if I can get a lane), or just spin at home and make some yogurt. I'm leaning toward the Y in the morning, but that would mean I'd have to get off the computer now and make yogurt.
Decisions, decisions.
Recent Workouts
Tuesday: 45 minutes core and stretch cords, 45 minutes bike - Spinervals 7.0 The Uphill Grind
Wednesday: 45 minutes core and weights, 5 mile run
Thursday: 45 minutes core and stretch cords, 45 minutes elliptical, 15 minutes stairmaster
Friday: 45 minutes core and weights
Saturday: 14 mile run
Now that I've had a week to settle in, I'm going to try doing something new. Since September I've had to be in a late meeting every Tuesday, which has led me to often wish that I could come in late that day, so as not to make it a 10 hour workday. But with a vacancy I wasn't allowed to fill and an assistant whose health was uncertain, I had little choice but to show up every day at 7 to ensure that someone would be there to open doors and handle problems from our early-arriving programmers.
But no more! Right before I left, I got a new person transferred to me-- someone reliable, who I've worked with before. So starting next week I'm going to go to the Y on Tuesday mornings. I'll either swim (if lanes are available) or hit the 6 am spin class. If I like Tuesday mornings, I'll add Thursdays as well. I'm pretty excited about this and I think I'll have a lot of fun with it. And if I don't, well, my weights, music and stretch cords are still waiting for me here at home. Or I can go for early morning runs or something. Either way, some serious early workouts are about to become a reality.
I also picked up a copy of Mark Verstegen's Core Performance this weekend. Already I can see why it's gotten so much praise in triathlon circles. Now that it's out in paperback and available cheap online, I highly recommend it to just about everyone. You don't even have to do sports to benefit from this book-- you just have to want to have a well-functioning body for the rest of your life. But hey, if anyone out there really wants to be a shuffling, hunched over old thing with back and hip problems some day, have at it. I'll even try not to say I told you so.
I had a good run this morning, in spite of being nearly three weeks out from my last massage. I saw my young cottontail in his usual spot on the bayou trail. Funny little thing, it's interesting to watch him grow more confident as early morning runners pass his favorite breakfast spot. I saw a lady walking along the trail inexplicably wearing a washcloth on her head. It wasn't even wet, so I can't imagine what its purpose might have been. And I saw a race going on! I hadn't even known there was a race today, but I was near the outdoor chapel when a tall guy ran past me and then turned off the trail to do a hill repeat on the steep bank. As he ran up toward the street level, I heard cheering. Wow, does this guy have a fan club or something? I turned to look and saw that there were runners passing a water station at street level on Memorial. Hey, where did they come from?
The really odd thing was that when I came around the Allen Parkway side of the bayou, I saw walkers on the street, then some fast runners wearing numbers. It didn't seem likely that this was a 5K fun run/walk because there were so few of them and the route was too long. It was the route of the annual 20K/25K, as far as I could tell. But then I doubted myself because as I got to a spot where I could see Memorial and Allen Parkway simultaneously, it didn't look like it was the same event on each side. Or maybe it was. I'd seen no crossover between the streets at Shepherd or Sabine, but maybe it was someplace in the middle, such as Montrose where the bayou trail goes below the street level and I wouldn't see them. I don't know. It was definitely a race though, because I heard people calling split times. But where did the walkers fit in? Odd.
After running along the bayou, I did a loop through River Oaks, then went up to Memorial Park and did a loop there as well. It wasn't as crowded as it could've been, so I guess the race siphoned off a few folks. Luke's Locker had their Gatorade tent set up, and the ice-cold Gatorade was very welcome.
Then I headed home, encountering only one weirdo on the way-- a lady on the bridge over Memorial that puts me back home. She was striding along briskly, elbows out, hands in the air, waving her fingers. I couldn't figure out if she was practicing chisenbop or doing some sort of mental rehearsal of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," but I passed her twice-- once on the bridge and a second time on my cooldown by the softball park and she was still ambling along, waving her fingers in the air. Very strange.
Tonight I'm trying to decide between going to the Y in the morning for a short spin class and a swim (if I can get a lane), or just spin at home and make some yogurt. I'm leaning toward the Y in the morning, but that would mean I'd have to get off the computer now and make yogurt.
Decisions, decisions.
Recent Workouts
Tuesday: 45 minutes core and stretch cords, 45 minutes bike - Spinervals 7.0 The Uphill Grind
Wednesday: 45 minutes core and weights, 5 mile run
Thursday: 45 minutes core and stretch cords, 45 minutes elliptical, 15 minutes stairmaster
Friday: 45 minutes core and weights
Saturday: 14 mile run
Monday, June 13, 2005
Jury Duty And More!
There's something kind of nice about getting back from vacation with the whole weekend ahead of you. Vacations are great, but they're exhausting and it's nice to have a couple days to settle back into the old routine before having to hit the office again.
This time, I had an extra day out from work, though. Jury duty.
I had tried to get my date changed from June 6th, which was when I was inconveniently far from Houston, but the lady on the phone copped an attitude with me and insisted that it was the Monday of my return or nothing. Geez, lady, check your records-- I've served before, I'm not some lying deadbeat trying to weasel out of this, I just want something reasonable. Asking me to do jury duty after being gone from the office for two weeks is a recipe for a hostile, grumpy juror. But whatever, she's probably heard everything, so today was the day.
Since I really didn't want to be picked this time, I decided to forego my usual professional attire, and dressed a bit sloppily. This was hard to do for me, because the remnants of my teenage vanity got in the way, but I managed to put together an outfit that, combined with an unattractive hair arrangement and no makeup, managed to make me look (and feel!) dowdy, ugly and hostile. I made sure to take a slightly radical Chicano book with me, one that has a sombrero-clad guy holding a gun on the cover. I would've preferred Dan's copy of Naked Lunch as a you-don't-want-me-in-your-jury-box tome, but I couldn't find it. Oh well. I think next time I see the LaRouche-ites passing out literature on campus I'll get me an armfull for future emergencies like this.
I had Dan drop me off downtown, since Parking is $8 at a minimum, and they only pay $5.50/day for jurors. Thanks, guys. I went through the whole cattle-like rigamarole in what was literally a standing-room only juror selection area. We filled the room, we filled the halls, we filled the breakroom... it was obvious some of us would get sent home. When my number was selected, I trudged off with the other cattle to sit some more on the floor outside the court, since there weren't enough benches for us all. Criminal court. Hm. Not bad. Maybe it'll involve a Hispanic and the opposing lawyer will see my book and reject me. Too bad I can't turn my Spanish accent on and off at will. Maybe if I read the juror instructions in Spanish, it will get me in the right accent.
Luck was with me today though, and the trial my group was selected for got postponed. No one else needed our panel, so they sent us away. Hooray!
So no one thinks I'm a regular grump about these things, I'm simply inundated with work right now that's been backing up. Normally I like jury duty because it's a nice excuse to do something different, hang out downtown for a few days and such. In fact, I've been wondering lately if there shouldn't be a way to volunteer for jury duty and be able to avoid getting called up for it at inconvenient times. I would've loved to have gone in February or April, for example, when I didn't have a lot going on. Wouldn't a volunteer option be nicer for everyone? Between jobs? Go get your jury service out of the way! Bored at the office? Go see if they need you on a panel! Of course most people would still have to be drafted, so to speak, but it sure would be nice if we could have the option of choosing. Getting to postpone your date by a couple of weeks isn't exactly choosing, because it assumes that you have busy days or weeks, as opposed to busy periods of the year.
Anyway, it was eleven o'clock when I got dismissed, and with no car handy, it didn't make much sense to try to make it to work. The buses back to where I live (only 3 miles away, of all things) were several blocks away and run at 40-60 minute intervals, depending on whether I take the #18 or the #70. They take 20 minutes at a minimum to get me near where I live, then I would've had to still walk the rest of the way home, change clothes, eat a bit of lunch, drive to the office, etc, etc. So going to work didn't make much sense at this point. Anything that needed to be done could be done online in the evening or the next morning.
I had brought my gym bag with me, just in case I got dismissed early, so I headed off cheerfully to the downtown Y for my first swim of the season. Yes, first. I'm part cat, I think. I really hate water unless it's to drink.
The pool was busy with lunchtime swimmers, but I found a slow-moving guy in a lane by himself who looked like he wasn't terribly serious. Luckily he wasn't, and within minutes of my arrival, he left. Yay! I got in and immediately remembered why I hate the pool. It's wet and cold. Why do people do this on purpose?
Okay, buck up camper. Get wet, try not to shiver like the wimp you are and get swimming!
For the first five laps I had the lane all to myself. Once I was moving, it was fun to be back in the water. I was slow, but that was okay. Can't expect speed if I'm not training. Pull, breathe, small kick, not too much, this is triathlon swimming, after all.
Then after about five or six laps, I got company.
I knew she was trouble when she asked me and the guy in the lane next to me how deep the deep end was. Uh, I'm not sure, but it's deeper than me and deeper than you. Does it matter?
Apparently it did, because she only swam out about halfway, then turned around and came back.
Breaststroking.
Great.
What kind of damn fool goes to the pool at a busy time of day when everyone is sharing lanes, and then insists on breaststroking? And it's not like she was good enough for us to circle-swim, she had to do her slow little out-and-backs in the shallow end, forcing me to pause at the far end on each lap and wait for her to get near the wall before starting my return lap.
Grrrrr.... Having learned to swim as a thirtysomething, I'm hugely sympathetic to being new to swimming, and if anything, I'm supportive and enthusiastic about people's efforts. But there's a time and place for everything, and the busiest time of day at the Downtown Y's four-lane pool is not the time or place for someone to be learning how to swim!
Luckily by the time I hit lap 12, Newbie had had enough and left. I hope she comes back, but at a much less busy time when she can have a lane to herself and the full attention of a lifeguard.
Almost immediately I got a new lane-mate, a guy who had the body for his Speedo, but nevertheless looked just wrong in it, if you know what I mean. Having the body for a fashion doesn't always make it right. He started circle-swimming, which irked me at first because even my "sprint" sessions are slower than a slow boat to China. But once I realized that his warmup was also his top speed, I settled in happily and finished off my 20 laps.
Then I had a nice little session in the hot tub, nice and hot with very strong jets to work the mountain-climbing stiffness out of my legs. Then a cool shower, shorts, tank top and running shoes, and I was ready to face Houston's great outdoors again.
I didn't even botther looking for the bus stop. I ran the numbers quickly in my head and realized it would take just as long to walk as to take the bus, so I bought a 20 oz bottle of water and struck out for home.
I got in damp and sweaty from the humidity, took a shower, made some no-bake peanut butter cookies and had some lunch. I did a little office work online, thanked my personal jury deities for sparing me duty this week, and took a nap.
Tomorrow it's back to the salt mines.
Is it good to be home? Well, if home were elsewhere, I think I'd have a more ready answer to that. Dan and I are seriously considering moving to New Mexico after this trip. I want to get my ten years at the university, so that means not leaving before January, and we're in a lease until May, so we've got plenty of time to work on the matter. We'll need it. Jobs at my level take a long time to get. But I think we're serious this time about leaving. And since I have too much to say about this matter tonight, I think I'll save future musings for another blog post.
If home is where the critters are and where you always know where to find stuff, yes, it's great to be home!
Recent Workouts
Saturday: Run, 14 miles
Sunday: Bike, 2 hours - Spinervals 9.0 Have Mercy
Monday: 45 minutes core and strength training, 1000 meter swim, 3 mile walk, 30 minutes elliptical
This time, I had an extra day out from work, though. Jury duty.
I had tried to get my date changed from June 6th, which was when I was inconveniently far from Houston, but the lady on the phone copped an attitude with me and insisted that it was the Monday of my return or nothing. Geez, lady, check your records-- I've served before, I'm not some lying deadbeat trying to weasel out of this, I just want something reasonable. Asking me to do jury duty after being gone from the office for two weeks is a recipe for a hostile, grumpy juror. But whatever, she's probably heard everything, so today was the day.
Since I really didn't want to be picked this time, I decided to forego my usual professional attire, and dressed a bit sloppily. This was hard to do for me, because the remnants of my teenage vanity got in the way, but I managed to put together an outfit that, combined with an unattractive hair arrangement and no makeup, managed to make me look (and feel!) dowdy, ugly and hostile. I made sure to take a slightly radical Chicano book with me, one that has a sombrero-clad guy holding a gun on the cover. I would've preferred Dan's copy of Naked Lunch as a you-don't-want-me-in-your-jury-box tome, but I couldn't find it. Oh well. I think next time I see the LaRouche-ites passing out literature on campus I'll get me an armfull for future emergencies like this.
I had Dan drop me off downtown, since Parking is $8 at a minimum, and they only pay $5.50/day for jurors. Thanks, guys. I went through the whole cattle-like rigamarole in what was literally a standing-room only juror selection area. We filled the room, we filled the halls, we filled the breakroom... it was obvious some of us would get sent home. When my number was selected, I trudged off with the other cattle to sit some more on the floor outside the court, since there weren't enough benches for us all. Criminal court. Hm. Not bad. Maybe it'll involve a Hispanic and the opposing lawyer will see my book and reject me. Too bad I can't turn my Spanish accent on and off at will. Maybe if I read the juror instructions in Spanish, it will get me in the right accent.
Luck was with me today though, and the trial my group was selected for got postponed. No one else needed our panel, so they sent us away. Hooray!
So no one thinks I'm a regular grump about these things, I'm simply inundated with work right now that's been backing up. Normally I like jury duty because it's a nice excuse to do something different, hang out downtown for a few days and such. In fact, I've been wondering lately if there shouldn't be a way to volunteer for jury duty and be able to avoid getting called up for it at inconvenient times. I would've loved to have gone in February or April, for example, when I didn't have a lot going on. Wouldn't a volunteer option be nicer for everyone? Between jobs? Go get your jury service out of the way! Bored at the office? Go see if they need you on a panel! Of course most people would still have to be drafted, so to speak, but it sure would be nice if we could have the option of choosing. Getting to postpone your date by a couple of weeks isn't exactly choosing, because it assumes that you have busy days or weeks, as opposed to busy periods of the year.
Anyway, it was eleven o'clock when I got dismissed, and with no car handy, it didn't make much sense to try to make it to work. The buses back to where I live (only 3 miles away, of all things) were several blocks away and run at 40-60 minute intervals, depending on whether I take the #18 or the #70. They take 20 minutes at a minimum to get me near where I live, then I would've had to still walk the rest of the way home, change clothes, eat a bit of lunch, drive to the office, etc, etc. So going to work didn't make much sense at this point. Anything that needed to be done could be done online in the evening or the next morning.
I had brought my gym bag with me, just in case I got dismissed early, so I headed off cheerfully to the downtown Y for my first swim of the season. Yes, first. I'm part cat, I think. I really hate water unless it's to drink.
The pool was busy with lunchtime swimmers, but I found a slow-moving guy in a lane by himself who looked like he wasn't terribly serious. Luckily he wasn't, and within minutes of my arrival, he left. Yay! I got in and immediately remembered why I hate the pool. It's wet and cold. Why do people do this on purpose?
Okay, buck up camper. Get wet, try not to shiver like the wimp you are and get swimming!
For the first five laps I had the lane all to myself. Once I was moving, it was fun to be back in the water. I was slow, but that was okay. Can't expect speed if I'm not training. Pull, breathe, small kick, not too much, this is triathlon swimming, after all.
Then after about five or six laps, I got company.
I knew she was trouble when she asked me and the guy in the lane next to me how deep the deep end was. Uh, I'm not sure, but it's deeper than me and deeper than you. Does it matter?
Apparently it did, because she only swam out about halfway, then turned around and came back.
Breaststroking.
Great.
What kind of damn fool goes to the pool at a busy time of day when everyone is sharing lanes, and then insists on breaststroking? And it's not like she was good enough for us to circle-swim, she had to do her slow little out-and-backs in the shallow end, forcing me to pause at the far end on each lap and wait for her to get near the wall before starting my return lap.
Grrrrr.... Having learned to swim as a thirtysomething, I'm hugely sympathetic to being new to swimming, and if anything, I'm supportive and enthusiastic about people's efforts. But there's a time and place for everything, and the busiest time of day at the Downtown Y's four-lane pool is not the time or place for someone to be learning how to swim!
Luckily by the time I hit lap 12, Newbie had had enough and left. I hope she comes back, but at a much less busy time when she can have a lane to herself and the full attention of a lifeguard.
Almost immediately I got a new lane-mate, a guy who had the body for his Speedo, but nevertheless looked just wrong in it, if you know what I mean. Having the body for a fashion doesn't always make it right. He started circle-swimming, which irked me at first because even my "sprint" sessions are slower than a slow boat to China. But once I realized that his warmup was also his top speed, I settled in happily and finished off my 20 laps.
Then I had a nice little session in the hot tub, nice and hot with very strong jets to work the mountain-climbing stiffness out of my legs. Then a cool shower, shorts, tank top and running shoes, and I was ready to face Houston's great outdoors again.
I didn't even botther looking for the bus stop. I ran the numbers quickly in my head and realized it would take just as long to walk as to take the bus, so I bought a 20 oz bottle of water and struck out for home.
I got in damp and sweaty from the humidity, took a shower, made some no-bake peanut butter cookies and had some lunch. I did a little office work online, thanked my personal jury deities for sparing me duty this week, and took a nap.
Tomorrow it's back to the salt mines.
Is it good to be home? Well, if home were elsewhere, I think I'd have a more ready answer to that. Dan and I are seriously considering moving to New Mexico after this trip. I want to get my ten years at the university, so that means not leaving before January, and we're in a lease until May, so we've got plenty of time to work on the matter. We'll need it. Jobs at my level take a long time to get. But I think we're serious this time about leaving. And since I have too much to say about this matter tonight, I think I'll save future musings for another blog post.
If home is where the critters are and where you always know where to find stuff, yes, it's great to be home!
Recent Workouts
Saturday: Run, 14 miles
Sunday: Bike, 2 hours - Spinervals 9.0 Have Mercy
Monday: 45 minutes core and strength training, 1000 meter swim, 3 mile walk, 30 minutes elliptical
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Off to New Mexico!
Dan and I will be on vacation through June 10. We'll have a laptop with us and it is my goal to give regular updates of our travels at my new vacation blog, so check it out, then check back here after the 10th!
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Exciting Announcement!
Okay, it's sort of exciting. It's exciting to me, at any rate.
I've created a vacation blog!
I've posted the last three years of vacations and pictures, taken from posts to my home page that I'm too lazy to ever update. Personally, I think 2003 is the best, with lots of pictures of Acadia, Monhegan, and the Hancock Shaker Village. But anyone who likes beaches and lighthouses should check out 2002, when we went to Cape Cod.
And very, very soon, I will be adding new vacation posts from my upcoming New Mexico vacation. My goal is to post to the vacation blog daily while I'm gone, so we'll see how far we get with that.
In other news, it's just been the same old, only more so now that everyone knows I'm leaving. Work was crazy this week, and I come home to a thousand things I think I should be doing. Just your ordinary pre-vacation insanity.
At least I have a long weekend to get prepared.
Recent Workouts
Saturday: 14 mile run
Friday: 45 minute core and strength training
Thursday: 45 minute core and strength training, 45 minute bike: Spinerval 7.0 The Uphill Grind
Wednesday: 45 minute core and strength training, 4 mile run at Memorial Park
Tuesday: 45 minute core and strength training, 45 minute elliptical - interval session
Monday: 45 minute core and strength training, massage day - no evening workout
I've created a vacation blog!
I've posted the last three years of vacations and pictures, taken from posts to my home page that I'm too lazy to ever update. Personally, I think 2003 is the best, with lots of pictures of Acadia, Monhegan, and the Hancock Shaker Village. But anyone who likes beaches and lighthouses should check out 2002, when we went to Cape Cod.
And very, very soon, I will be adding new vacation posts from my upcoming New Mexico vacation. My goal is to post to the vacation blog daily while I'm gone, so we'll see how far we get with that.
In other news, it's just been the same old, only more so now that everyone knows I'm leaving. Work was crazy this week, and I come home to a thousand things I think I should be doing. Just your ordinary pre-vacation insanity.
At least I have a long weekend to get prepared.
Recent Workouts
Saturday: 14 mile run
Friday: 45 minute core and strength training
Thursday: 45 minute core and strength training, 45 minute bike: Spinerval 7.0 The Uphill Grind
Wednesday: 45 minute core and strength training, 4 mile run at Memorial Park
Tuesday: 45 minute core and strength training, 45 minute elliptical - interval session
Monday: 45 minute core and strength training, massage day - no evening workout
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Monday, May 16, 2005
The Rest of My Weekend
If anyone thought I was going to rest on Sunday after my long bike ride, they are sadly mistaken.
Thanks to the nice massage I got after the ride, my legs felt pretty decent on Sunday morning. I've felt a lot worse. So I went for an early run, letting my legs dictate the pace. It was a bit slower than I would've liked, but it wasn't a day for pushing myself. I did 12 miles, sticking close to home and felt pretty good until the last couple of miles. But by then I was on the way home, so it was just a matter of whispering encouraging thoughts to myself and before I knew it I was back home.
It was early still, so I made a batch of yogurt. This time when I separated out the part that I wanted to be vanilla, I was much more aggressive with the flavoring. Last week I made the mistake of forgetting that warm sweet milk is going to taste vaguely vanilla anyway, so you can't go entirely on what your taste buds are telling you. So I made it vanilla, then vanilla some more. And by late evening when I took the jars out of the warm water bath in the cooler, the vanilla tasted like vanilla yogurt should. Yummy! I also remembered this time to put a small jar of plain yogurt aside to be left unopened until I need it as starter for the next batch. No more yogurt buying for me! Now I just need my own cow or goat and I'll be in business! That is, until the apartment management finds out.
After I got my yogurt started, Dan and I went out for Indian food and to run a few errands. I picked up some prescriptions and got some really great peppermint cream that I can use on my legs post-run. The last time I got a shoulder massage, the therapist used some of this cream and it was so good I knew I had to have some. It was $21 at Origins, but it's a big tube and will last forever. How strong is it? Well, after we got home I was sitting on the bedroom floor rubbing it into my legs, marvelling at how tingly it was when Dan opened the door and gave me a funny look. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Uh, yeah. Why?"
"I can smell that stuff all over the house, that's all."
"Oh."
"So you're okay?"
"Yeah. Just tingly and pepperminty. Is it bothering you?"
"No, just checking."
He shut the door. Hm. I wonder what that was all about.
I took a nap soon after, but my sheets still smell a bit minty today. I guess that means mid-week laundry.
After my nap I started a crock pot full of veggies and we went to Memorial Park. I walked the three mile loop while Dan ran it, then met me to walk the last half mile or so. It felt good to get out and just walk a bit.
Back home, I scooped my cooked veggies into individual bowls for the week and started some quinoa and lentils in the broth remaining in the crock pot. I then forgot about the quinoa until it was just slightly overdone. But it had good flavor and it was too late to start again, so I figured there were worse things than mushy quinoa.
And then it was time to iron, stretch, empty litterboxes and give the bunny her evening vegetables. Her garden continues to do pretty well, by the way. I thinned the carrots again this weekend and fed Tid the sprouts. I think she likes having a garden!
And finally, I got my plane tickets reconfigured. I'll be going straight to New Mexico instead of to Hartford first. I have a credit with the airline that I can use later this summer when we have an exact date for my grandmother's service.
I'm looking forward to getting out to New Mexico. It's been too long since I've seen the farm, and even though the reports are good, I want to see how things look for myself.
Sunday's Workout
12 mile run, bayou and Memorial areas
3 mile walk, Memorial Park
Thanks to the nice massage I got after the ride, my legs felt pretty decent on Sunday morning. I've felt a lot worse. So I went for an early run, letting my legs dictate the pace. It was a bit slower than I would've liked, but it wasn't a day for pushing myself. I did 12 miles, sticking close to home and felt pretty good until the last couple of miles. But by then I was on the way home, so it was just a matter of whispering encouraging thoughts to myself and before I knew it I was back home.
It was early still, so I made a batch of yogurt. This time when I separated out the part that I wanted to be vanilla, I was much more aggressive with the flavoring. Last week I made the mistake of forgetting that warm sweet milk is going to taste vaguely vanilla anyway, so you can't go entirely on what your taste buds are telling you. So I made it vanilla, then vanilla some more. And by late evening when I took the jars out of the warm water bath in the cooler, the vanilla tasted like vanilla yogurt should. Yummy! I also remembered this time to put a small jar of plain yogurt aside to be left unopened until I need it as starter for the next batch. No more yogurt buying for me! Now I just need my own cow or goat and I'll be in business! That is, until the apartment management finds out.
After I got my yogurt started, Dan and I went out for Indian food and to run a few errands. I picked up some prescriptions and got some really great peppermint cream that I can use on my legs post-run. The last time I got a shoulder massage, the therapist used some of this cream and it was so good I knew I had to have some. It was $21 at Origins, but it's a big tube and will last forever. How strong is it? Well, after we got home I was sitting on the bedroom floor rubbing it into my legs, marvelling at how tingly it was when Dan opened the door and gave me a funny look. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Uh, yeah. Why?"
"I can smell that stuff all over the house, that's all."
"Oh."
"So you're okay?"
"Yeah. Just tingly and pepperminty. Is it bothering you?"
"No, just checking."
He shut the door. Hm. I wonder what that was all about.
I took a nap soon after, but my sheets still smell a bit minty today. I guess that means mid-week laundry.
After my nap I started a crock pot full of veggies and we went to Memorial Park. I walked the three mile loop while Dan ran it, then met me to walk the last half mile or so. It felt good to get out and just walk a bit.
Back home, I scooped my cooked veggies into individual bowls for the week and started some quinoa and lentils in the broth remaining in the crock pot. I then forgot about the quinoa until it was just slightly overdone. But it had good flavor and it was too late to start again, so I figured there were worse things than mushy quinoa.
And then it was time to iron, stretch, empty litterboxes and give the bunny her evening vegetables. Her garden continues to do pretty well, by the way. I thinned the carrots again this weekend and fed Tid the sprouts. I think she likes having a garden!
And finally, I got my plane tickets reconfigured. I'll be going straight to New Mexico instead of to Hartford first. I have a credit with the airline that I can use later this summer when we have an exact date for my grandmother's service.
I'm looking forward to getting out to New Mexico. It's been too long since I've seen the farm, and even though the reports are good, I want to see how things look for myself.
Sunday's Workout
12 mile run, bayou and Memorial areas
3 mile walk, Memorial Park
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Shiner B.A.S.H. Ride
Otherwise known as The Road to Bugville.
This was my third time to do this ride. It's an interesting concept-- riders start at the same time from Houston, Austin and San Antonio and all converge on the town of Shiner for a concert and post-ride party. I've never been too crazy about the whole post-ride scene (how can anyone care after 96 miles?) but I've always enjoyed the ride itself. In past years I've taken the bus home. For $15 you can purchase a ticket, and they line up the buses to take riders home starting around 3 or 4 pm. But this year Dan's friend Neal wanted a ride home and lent his truck to Dan for that purpose, which meant I had a ride home too.
The morning started with a bit of anxiety because Neal was scheduled up pick us up at 6 am for a 7 am ride that started 34 miles away. Neal had picked up his packet the week before, see. But I hadn't. I didn't ask any questions until the night before, and Dan didn't snap that we had a little math problem until it was too late to do anything about it. So by the time we got to the ride start, we had no time to dilly-dally. Dan got my bike ready while I ran inside, got my packet and used the restroom. Luckily the lines by this point were short in both cases, since most people were lined up with their bikes at the starting line. I guess a late arrival has its advantages.
Back at the truck, Neal took off for the start while Dan pinned my ride number on me and filled my water bottle. Just a few more last-minute items and I was ready. I had a moment's intense suspicion that I was being stupid to leave Dan in charge of my bag instead of putting it on the truck to Shiner, but I had no time to really think the matter through and so I jumped on my bike for a quick test that everything worked just as the announcer wished everyone a great ride and sent off the first wave. I gave Dan a kiss and headed up to the start, resetting my computer mileage to zero and merging with the second wave.
And after that, nothing much happened for a long time. The pace was typically slow for the first mile as we wound our way out of absurdly gigantic Katy Mills Mall and down some two-lane roads. I worked my way around a few packs of slowpokes and finally settled into a pretty good pace. The morning was foggy and windier than advertised on weather.com, but nice cycling weather for all that.
I ran into friends and former cycling buddies Phil and Harold early on. I passed Phil as I went past a rest stop. Much later, he and Harold caught up to me and started to tease me about catching up until I pointed out they had needed to draft off a pace line to do it. We rode more or less together down a rough road to the third rest stop (Eagle Lake), where I guess they stopped because I continued straight through and never saw them again.
I didn't stop until the fourth rest stop, around mile 50. By then I was out of water and hungry for a bit of solid food. I topped off my water bottle, grabbed a banana half and scooped a cookie into an indusrial-size can of peanut butter they were using for sandwiches. Not bad. I put the water bottle back on my bike and continued on my way.
After mile 60 was where things got nasty. In addition to the road, which had been rough and slow for much of the way, now we had to contend with love bugs-- those red-eyed mating flies one often sees in the spring. I've ridden buggy spring rides before, but this was far and away the worst I'd ever seen. The flies were literally swarming, so that all of us slogged on for mile after mile with their soft bodies pinging our faces, arms, legs and bodies non-stop. They got in my helmet. They got stuck on my sunglasses. They landed on my legs, arms and water bottle and took up residence. They hit my face. They hit my chest and I feared I would find them inside my jogbra at the end of the ride. (I did not, thank goodness.)
After twenty or thirty miles of this, it became maddening. I suppose if this had been a race venue with something at stake, I would've pulled out the mental resources to try to make something humorous out the situation. But instead, the rough road and my tight IT bands (which had been bothering me from the start) combined to put me in a grumpy mood with brief moments of near desperation over the constant plop of insects hitting my body. It was positively Hitchcockian. The only thing you could do was put your head down and hope for a clear patch. There were precious few of these.
My only other stop was in Halletsville. I always like this stop because it's at the old town courthouse-- one of those beautiful old buildings that always seem way too fancy for some little country place, but that one nevertheless finds all over Texas. So I like this stop for its location. But even more important, we have access to the courthouse restrooms. My ride philosophy is that if there's an opportunity to use a flush toilet in a clean restroom with all the trimmings, do it! So I parked my bike, used the restroom, washed my face and reapplied sunscreen, put an IcyHot patch on my aching lower back, filled my water bottle, stretched and ate a Clif Bar. I dawdled. It was my only indulgence that day, and I needed it if I was going to face those %#^%^#@! bugs again.
We finally got free of the bugs as we made the turn off the highway onto the back roads near the Spoetzl Brewery. In previous years the ride has ended at the brewery, but this year we were directed an additional mile to a large park. For many of us, this kind of defeated the purpose. The whole point of the ride is to go to the brewery, but the ride and post-ride party have gotten bigger in recent years and this year they figured a bigger venue was needed.
To say I was disappointed with the new venue would be an understatment. We got there on a road pitted with small holes, and there were no people cheering at the finish line, no volunteers handing out water. Instead, we had to get off our bikes and start trudging in the direction of the Rider Check-In. The showers were on the way, so I stopped and called Dan to see if he had made it in yet. He hadn't. I wasn't surprised. Somehow he had taken our instructions of the morning, where we said we'd be there by 2:00 at the latest to mean he should be there at 2:00. It was 12:30, I was sticky and buggy, and he was still an hour away with my bag. No shower for me. I knew I should've put my bag on the truck. I should've trusted my instincts on that one!
So I stopped at some sinks and washed my face, arms and legs. That helped a little, then I went up the hill, got my post-ride tickets and trudged what felt like a quarter mile toward the food. At this point there still wasn't anyone giving out water to the riders. I was starting to be pissed.
At the entrance to the concert/food area, they were doing metal checks. Metal checks? I couldn't believe it! What was this, an airport? A prison? A high school? Who ever heard of needing to be gone over with a metal detecting wand in order to get a stupid bottle of water and something to eat after a 96 mile bike ride???
Okay, whatever. I got inside and it was huge! I got me some water, which I had to use one of my tickets for (another annoyance, since all other rides give the riders their water for free), then checked out my food options, keeping an eye out for Neal all the time. I wasn't terribly impressed by the food. It was heavy on carnival fare, such as funnel cakes, turkey legs and the like. I just wanted some pasta or ice cream or something, but no such luck.
Thoroughly out of sorts, I went to the massage tent and got on the waiting list. There was a long wait, but hey, no hurry. Dan wouldn't be arriving for awhile. Then I bought me a chicken shishkabob that was way more food than I could eat, so I only ate half of it. If I'd had a means to save the rest for later, I would've. Instead I had to throw it away, which seemed wasteful. I finally got my massage, and then tried to call Dan again. His cell phone wasn't responding, and I later learned his carrier doesn't give a signal in Shiner. Great. So I gave the last of my food/beverage tickets to a good-looking guy who had been complaining that he couldn't afford both a massage and extra tickets for beer, and then I headed to the Rider Pickup area, trusting that this would be my best bet for finding Dan.
Once there, I ran into Neal who had had the same idea. He'd looked for me earlier, as I had looked for him, but the venue was just way too big for people to find each other unless they had a pre-arranged meeting place. We hung out in the shade of a tree and waited about ten minutes or so, and then saw Dan walking up the path from the parking area. We hurried down to him, and were pleasantly surprised that he had brought us our shoes. It wasn't a huge deal for me because I use mountain bike shoes on these sorts of rides, but Neal had been stumbling around on his slick racing shoes with their big clips in front. We put on our shoes while Dan apologized for his tardiness and related his misadventures (traffic tieups, misdirections, etc.). We hardly cared at that point. We racked our bikes, changed into clean t-shirts and piled in.
The drive home took two hours, including the usual I-10 slowdowns once we were back in the city limits. The first thing I did when I got home was take a shower! Finally clean, I put my gear away, cleaned my helmet and sunglasses, hung my damp clothes to dry and then settled in to eat and check my email. I was still keyed up from the ride, but everything hit me within about 30 minutes. It was nap time.
I had earned it.
Today's Workout
Shiner B.A.S.H. Ride: 96 miles, Houston to Shiner
This was my third time to do this ride. It's an interesting concept-- riders start at the same time from Houston, Austin and San Antonio and all converge on the town of Shiner for a concert and post-ride party. I've never been too crazy about the whole post-ride scene (how can anyone care after 96 miles?) but I've always enjoyed the ride itself. In past years I've taken the bus home. For $15 you can purchase a ticket, and they line up the buses to take riders home starting around 3 or 4 pm. But this year Dan's friend Neal wanted a ride home and lent his truck to Dan for that purpose, which meant I had a ride home too.
The morning started with a bit of anxiety because Neal was scheduled up pick us up at 6 am for a 7 am ride that started 34 miles away. Neal had picked up his packet the week before, see. But I hadn't. I didn't ask any questions until the night before, and Dan didn't snap that we had a little math problem until it was too late to do anything about it. So by the time we got to the ride start, we had no time to dilly-dally. Dan got my bike ready while I ran inside, got my packet and used the restroom. Luckily the lines by this point were short in both cases, since most people were lined up with their bikes at the starting line. I guess a late arrival has its advantages.
Back at the truck, Neal took off for the start while Dan pinned my ride number on me and filled my water bottle. Just a few more last-minute items and I was ready. I had a moment's intense suspicion that I was being stupid to leave Dan in charge of my bag instead of putting it on the truck to Shiner, but I had no time to really think the matter through and so I jumped on my bike for a quick test that everything worked just as the announcer wished everyone a great ride and sent off the first wave. I gave Dan a kiss and headed up to the start, resetting my computer mileage to zero and merging with the second wave.
And after that, nothing much happened for a long time. The pace was typically slow for the first mile as we wound our way out of absurdly gigantic Katy Mills Mall and down some two-lane roads. I worked my way around a few packs of slowpokes and finally settled into a pretty good pace. The morning was foggy and windier than advertised on weather.com, but nice cycling weather for all that.
I ran into friends and former cycling buddies Phil and Harold early on. I passed Phil as I went past a rest stop. Much later, he and Harold caught up to me and started to tease me about catching up until I pointed out they had needed to draft off a pace line to do it. We rode more or less together down a rough road to the third rest stop (Eagle Lake), where I guess they stopped because I continued straight through and never saw them again.
I didn't stop until the fourth rest stop, around mile 50. By then I was out of water and hungry for a bit of solid food. I topped off my water bottle, grabbed a banana half and scooped a cookie into an indusrial-size can of peanut butter they were using for sandwiches. Not bad. I put the water bottle back on my bike and continued on my way.
After mile 60 was where things got nasty. In addition to the road, which had been rough and slow for much of the way, now we had to contend with love bugs-- those red-eyed mating flies one often sees in the spring. I've ridden buggy spring rides before, but this was far and away the worst I'd ever seen. The flies were literally swarming, so that all of us slogged on for mile after mile with their soft bodies pinging our faces, arms, legs and bodies non-stop. They got in my helmet. They got stuck on my sunglasses. They landed on my legs, arms and water bottle and took up residence. They hit my face. They hit my chest and I feared I would find them inside my jogbra at the end of the ride. (I did not, thank goodness.)
After twenty or thirty miles of this, it became maddening. I suppose if this had been a race venue with something at stake, I would've pulled out the mental resources to try to make something humorous out the situation. But instead, the rough road and my tight IT bands (which had been bothering me from the start) combined to put me in a grumpy mood with brief moments of near desperation over the constant plop of insects hitting my body. It was positively Hitchcockian. The only thing you could do was put your head down and hope for a clear patch. There were precious few of these.
My only other stop was in Halletsville. I always like this stop because it's at the old town courthouse-- one of those beautiful old buildings that always seem way too fancy for some little country place, but that one nevertheless finds all over Texas. So I like this stop for its location. But even more important, we have access to the courthouse restrooms. My ride philosophy is that if there's an opportunity to use a flush toilet in a clean restroom with all the trimmings, do it! So I parked my bike, used the restroom, washed my face and reapplied sunscreen, put an IcyHot patch on my aching lower back, filled my water bottle, stretched and ate a Clif Bar. I dawdled. It was my only indulgence that day, and I needed it if I was going to face those %#^%^#@! bugs again.
We finally got free of the bugs as we made the turn off the highway onto the back roads near the Spoetzl Brewery. In previous years the ride has ended at the brewery, but this year we were directed an additional mile to a large park. For many of us, this kind of defeated the purpose. The whole point of the ride is to go to the brewery, but the ride and post-ride party have gotten bigger in recent years and this year they figured a bigger venue was needed.
To say I was disappointed with the new venue would be an understatment. We got there on a road pitted with small holes, and there were no people cheering at the finish line, no volunteers handing out water. Instead, we had to get off our bikes and start trudging in the direction of the Rider Check-In. The showers were on the way, so I stopped and called Dan to see if he had made it in yet. He hadn't. I wasn't surprised. Somehow he had taken our instructions of the morning, where we said we'd be there by 2:00 at the latest to mean he should be there at 2:00. It was 12:30, I was sticky and buggy, and he was still an hour away with my bag. No shower for me. I knew I should've put my bag on the truck. I should've trusted my instincts on that one!
So I stopped at some sinks and washed my face, arms and legs. That helped a little, then I went up the hill, got my post-ride tickets and trudged what felt like a quarter mile toward the food. At this point there still wasn't anyone giving out water to the riders. I was starting to be pissed.
At the entrance to the concert/food area, they were doing metal checks. Metal checks? I couldn't believe it! What was this, an airport? A prison? A high school? Who ever heard of needing to be gone over with a metal detecting wand in order to get a stupid bottle of water and something to eat after a 96 mile bike ride???
Okay, whatever. I got inside and it was huge! I got me some water, which I had to use one of my tickets for (another annoyance, since all other rides give the riders their water for free), then checked out my food options, keeping an eye out for Neal all the time. I wasn't terribly impressed by the food. It was heavy on carnival fare, such as funnel cakes, turkey legs and the like. I just wanted some pasta or ice cream or something, but no such luck.
Thoroughly out of sorts, I went to the massage tent and got on the waiting list. There was a long wait, but hey, no hurry. Dan wouldn't be arriving for awhile. Then I bought me a chicken shishkabob that was way more food than I could eat, so I only ate half of it. If I'd had a means to save the rest for later, I would've. Instead I had to throw it away, which seemed wasteful. I finally got my massage, and then tried to call Dan again. His cell phone wasn't responding, and I later learned his carrier doesn't give a signal in Shiner. Great. So I gave the last of my food/beverage tickets to a good-looking guy who had been complaining that he couldn't afford both a massage and extra tickets for beer, and then I headed to the Rider Pickup area, trusting that this would be my best bet for finding Dan.
Once there, I ran into Neal who had had the same idea. He'd looked for me earlier, as I had looked for him, but the venue was just way too big for people to find each other unless they had a pre-arranged meeting place. We hung out in the shade of a tree and waited about ten minutes or so, and then saw Dan walking up the path from the parking area. We hurried down to him, and were pleasantly surprised that he had brought us our shoes. It wasn't a huge deal for me because I use mountain bike shoes on these sorts of rides, but Neal had been stumbling around on his slick racing shoes with their big clips in front. We put on our shoes while Dan apologized for his tardiness and related his misadventures (traffic tieups, misdirections, etc.). We hardly cared at that point. We racked our bikes, changed into clean t-shirts and piled in.
The drive home took two hours, including the usual I-10 slowdowns once we were back in the city limits. The first thing I did when I got home was take a shower! Finally clean, I put my gear away, cleaned my helmet and sunglasses, hung my damp clothes to dry and then settled in to eat and check my email. I was still keyed up from the ride, but everything hit me within about 30 minutes. It was nap time.
I had earned it.
Today's Workout
Shiner B.A.S.H. Ride: 96 miles, Houston to Shiner
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Remembering Grandma
This morning I got word that my maternal grandmother had passed away. She was my last remaining grandparent and would've been 99 years old on the 29th of this month.
We are all as much relieved as anything else. She spent the last ten years in a nursing home due to Parkinson's and the effects of a few strokes, and the last few years had seen her becoming increasingly feeble-bodied and forgetful. There were times last June, which was when I saw her last, that she wasn't even sure who I was, although she had periods of remarkable lucidity as well. She didn't have Alzheimer's. Her mind was simply atrophying from age and inactivity. She was at one of the best homes in the country, but even they could only do so much for her.
It was no kind of life, at the end. I'd go visit her each year around her birthday (she lived in Connecticut which wasn't conducive to frequent visits) and I would usually find her in her room, hair coiffed, nails done, a pretty dress on, dozing in front of a TV turned to news or Animal Planet. She no longer read or participated in activities. She just dozed and waited with only marginal interest for lunch, her hair appointments and visitors.
It was distressing. At the end, she was not the woman I remembered.
The woman I called Grandma took me on my first plane trips and educated me in the art of airport navigation. She picked blueberries from the yard of her Cape Cod house and put them on our corn flakes in the morning. She took me to the beach and told me sternly that we were only there for thirty minutes, even though I was too young to know what thirty minutes meant. She walked into town each day to check her post office box (no house to house deliveries in Dennis, MA in those days). Then she would walk to the grocery store or the library. I lived for those walks to the library in Dennis-- a tiny little house with all its rooms filled with books. Grandma took me to visit her sisters on the Cape, and I especially loved visiting Pin, who had an antique shop and a rambling old colonial house with a big tree in the yard where we would all sit in the shade and look for four-leaf clovers. Every summer we found at least one.
Those were lucky times.
But all things come to an end, and the death of her siblings and my grandfather took a toll on her. She sold the house and moved into a condo. A few years later she moved to Connecticut to be near her younger son. When even the assisted living facility was unable to meet her needs, she moved into the nursing home. It was her choice. My uncle wanted to set her up with a nurse in his home, but Grandma had her notions, and thought she would be a burden and her grandsons would be a nuisance. As if those bookish boys could ever be a nuisance to anyone but a textbook publisher!
So she went into the nursing home, and we all assumed that she wouldn't last long. She lasted a decade. At her death, she was the longest term patient they had.
The inactivity eventually wore her down. She lost interest in the scheduled activities of the home. She lost interest in reading. Her last few years were spent in a sort of hazy limbo of dozing in front of the TV, waiting for something to happen. Not much ever did. She had regular visitors and phone calls, but it all melded into a sort of timeless sameness for her, making her lethargic and vague. Up until a couple of years ago, she could still come out of it, though. One sunny June day, Dan and I wheeled her outside to enjoy a bit of fresh air. I caught a butterfly for her and was startled at her agility when she caught it out of my hand to examine it more closely.
Sadly, such incidents were the exception rather than the rule. The last time we were there, Dan and I had a feeling it would be the last time. She was more vague than we had ever seen her, and wasn't recognizing even those closest to her. It was necessary to remind her often who you were.
On my very last visit, after chatting with her about my travels in Maine and thinking she understood, she had another one of her blank moments. Grasping at my hand, she asked me earnestly, "Am I your grandmother?"
"Yes, Grandma, you are. And I'll always love you."
We are all as much relieved as anything else. She spent the last ten years in a nursing home due to Parkinson's and the effects of a few strokes, and the last few years had seen her becoming increasingly feeble-bodied and forgetful. There were times last June, which was when I saw her last, that she wasn't even sure who I was, although she had periods of remarkable lucidity as well. She didn't have Alzheimer's. Her mind was simply atrophying from age and inactivity. She was at one of the best homes in the country, but even they could only do so much for her.
It was no kind of life, at the end. I'd go visit her each year around her birthday (she lived in Connecticut which wasn't conducive to frequent visits) and I would usually find her in her room, hair coiffed, nails done, a pretty dress on, dozing in front of a TV turned to news or Animal Planet. She no longer read or participated in activities. She just dozed and waited with only marginal interest for lunch, her hair appointments and visitors.
It was distressing. At the end, she was not the woman I remembered.
The woman I called Grandma took me on my first plane trips and educated me in the art of airport navigation. She picked blueberries from the yard of her Cape Cod house and put them on our corn flakes in the morning. She took me to the beach and told me sternly that we were only there for thirty minutes, even though I was too young to know what thirty minutes meant. She walked into town each day to check her post office box (no house to house deliveries in Dennis, MA in those days). Then she would walk to the grocery store or the library. I lived for those walks to the library in Dennis-- a tiny little house with all its rooms filled with books. Grandma took me to visit her sisters on the Cape, and I especially loved visiting Pin, who had an antique shop and a rambling old colonial house with a big tree in the yard where we would all sit in the shade and look for four-leaf clovers. Every summer we found at least one.
Those were lucky times.
But all things come to an end, and the death of her siblings and my grandfather took a toll on her. She sold the house and moved into a condo. A few years later she moved to Connecticut to be near her younger son. When even the assisted living facility was unable to meet her needs, she moved into the nursing home. It was her choice. My uncle wanted to set her up with a nurse in his home, but Grandma had her notions, and thought she would be a burden and her grandsons would be a nuisance. As if those bookish boys could ever be a nuisance to anyone but a textbook publisher!
So she went into the nursing home, and we all assumed that she wouldn't last long. She lasted a decade. At her death, she was the longest term patient they had.
The inactivity eventually wore her down. She lost interest in the scheduled activities of the home. She lost interest in reading. Her last few years were spent in a sort of hazy limbo of dozing in front of the TV, waiting for something to happen. Not much ever did. She had regular visitors and phone calls, but it all melded into a sort of timeless sameness for her, making her lethargic and vague. Up until a couple of years ago, she could still come out of it, though. One sunny June day, Dan and I wheeled her outside to enjoy a bit of fresh air. I caught a butterfly for her and was startled at her agility when she caught it out of my hand to examine it more closely.
Sadly, such incidents were the exception rather than the rule. The last time we were there, Dan and I had a feeling it would be the last time. She was more vague than we had ever seen her, and wasn't recognizing even those closest to her. It was necessary to remind her often who you were.
On my very last visit, after chatting with her about my travels in Maine and thinking she understood, she had another one of her blank moments. Grasping at my hand, she asked me earnestly, "Am I your grandmother?"
"Yes, Grandma, you are. And I'll always love you."
Friday, May 06, 2005
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Mother-In-Law Madness
Where to begin?
My mother-in-law is a very sweet lady, although she unfortunately came of age in the 1950s when female helplessness was thought attractive. Perhaps that's why in spite of her fear of doctors, she has done nothing to safeguard her health as she's grown older. Over the nine years of our marriage, Dan and I have seen her admitted to the hospital several times for matters that really could've been nipped in the bud, like colds that turn into bronchitis and then pneumonia. That sort of thing.
So on Saturday evening, I woke from my post-Indian-buffet nap to find a couple of frantic voicemails on my landline from Dan's sister, saying Mom-in-law had been taken to the hospital with stroke symptoms. She had also called Dan's cell, because when I went looking for him, he was already gone and had left a note.
First update was that she had been taken to a nearby hospital, checked over and released. Dan came home. Second update was that within an hour of arriving back home, she had the symptoms again and was this time taken to Methodist Hospital, which is known for its stroke team. Dan dithered around the house for a little while, agitated and uncertain whether to join his brother and sister at Methodist or wait for word when he would be needed. But finally he took off, wrinkled shirt and all, and was gone all night.
Poor baby. He spent all night in the ER waiting for her to be admitted and given a room, and didn't get home until around 11 am Sunday, at which point he promptly crashed.
So much for our comped theater tickets for the 2:30 matinee. Of course his mother and his sleep were more important, but since he quit doing theater work in '99 we've hardly gone to any plays at all and this one starred one of his old theater buddies. It was also the only weekend for which we could get free tickets.
Oh well.
Sunday evening, with lots of tests done and no definitive diagnosis, Dan went back to the hospital to spend the night with her. She was terrified to be alone, so the three siblings were taking shifts. Lucky Dan got the all-nighter. *Sigh* So I packed the little soft-side cooler full of goodies including homemade bread pudding, and sent him on his way. And Monday night we did a repeat. She was finally released late Tuesday morning with a diagnosis of transient ischemic attacks (mini-strokes) and a prescription for what turned out to be $300 worth of medicines.
Oh, did I mention that part of Mother-in-law's helplessness includes a complete inability to get herself onto things like prescription insurance programs?
Aaaaaaggggghhhh!!!!!!!
So Dan ponied up the $300 and then showed the receipt to his siblings. The same siblings who had previously told him, voices dripping with sincerity and can-do spirit, that all such expenses would be split three ways. The same siblings who were now suddenly, mysteriously broke. These are also the same siblings who by virtue of their proximity (one lives with her, the other next door) promised over a year ago to get their Mom onto AARP's insurance and see what else she may qualify for. They didn't do that, either.
This puts us in quite a pickle. Obviously a loved one's life is worth the inconvenience of time and money, but we just don't have $300 a month sitting around here. If we had that kind of money left over at the end of the month, I'd be sending it to the student loan people. We could afford a mortgage on an inner-loop home with an extra $300 per month. We just don't have it and we can't wish it into existence.
And we shouldn't have to. It's their mother, too. TIAs have a very high rate of being precursors to bigger, serious strokes resulting in paralysis or death if they aren't treated properly and promptly. That includes proper medication. One has to wonder just what the sibs would do if they didn't think they could shove the whole responsibility onto my husband. Would they just let her die?
Grrrrr.....
In other news, I had a weird Saturday workout. It's usually my long run day, but threatening clouds and a stiff wind made me rethink the matter and head to the gym instead. In these circumstances, I usually alternate 30 minutes elliptical/30 minutes treadmill to keep myself from going mad with boredom. After two hours of this and still no rain, I went back to my apartment, changed into some dry clothes and went for a short run on the bayou trails.
On Sunday there were no organized rides, nor had I been invited anywhere, so I had planned to do a spin session. But I was up too late waiting on Dan's calls to get up with the chickens and do my spinning before he came home. Once he was home and asleep, it was out of the question. So I saved my spin session for evening and spent the day cooking instead. I made a week's worth of brown rice and veggies, and also made my first-ever batch of yogurt.
The yogurt almost turned into a disaster. Even though I followed the instructions to the letter, the yogurt didn't set within the three hours promised by the website I used. Luckily I'd seen other websites that said it would take 5 hours, 8 hours or even 12-24. So I didn't get discouraged and toss the jars, but left them sitting in the warm water and by 8 pm it looked like it might be starting to gel. By 9:30 I had yogurt. Real yogurt made in my dinky little kitchen by yours truly! Best of all, it was creamy and much tastier than store-bought. Yay, me!
So that's my news. And exciting stuff it is.
Recent Workouts
Saturday: 1 hour elliptical, 1 hour treadmill, 3 mile run
Sunday: 90 minute bike - Spinervals 5.0 Mental Toughness
Monday: 45 minute core and strength training, 30 minute lunchtime walk, 30 minute elliptical
Tuesday: 45 minute core and strength training, 30 minute lunchtime walk, 45 minute bike - Spinervals 3.0 Suffer-O-Rama
My mother-in-law is a very sweet lady, although she unfortunately came of age in the 1950s when female helplessness was thought attractive. Perhaps that's why in spite of her fear of doctors, she has done nothing to safeguard her health as she's grown older. Over the nine years of our marriage, Dan and I have seen her admitted to the hospital several times for matters that really could've been nipped in the bud, like colds that turn into bronchitis and then pneumonia. That sort of thing.
So on Saturday evening, I woke from my post-Indian-buffet nap to find a couple of frantic voicemails on my landline from Dan's sister, saying Mom-in-law had been taken to the hospital with stroke symptoms. She had also called Dan's cell, because when I went looking for him, he was already gone and had left a note.
First update was that she had been taken to a nearby hospital, checked over and released. Dan came home. Second update was that within an hour of arriving back home, she had the symptoms again and was this time taken to Methodist Hospital, which is known for its stroke team. Dan dithered around the house for a little while, agitated and uncertain whether to join his brother and sister at Methodist or wait for word when he would be needed. But finally he took off, wrinkled shirt and all, and was gone all night.
Poor baby. He spent all night in the ER waiting for her to be admitted and given a room, and didn't get home until around 11 am Sunday, at which point he promptly crashed.
So much for our comped theater tickets for the 2:30 matinee. Of course his mother and his sleep were more important, but since he quit doing theater work in '99 we've hardly gone to any plays at all and this one starred one of his old theater buddies. It was also the only weekend for which we could get free tickets.
Oh well.
Sunday evening, with lots of tests done and no definitive diagnosis, Dan went back to the hospital to spend the night with her. She was terrified to be alone, so the three siblings were taking shifts. Lucky Dan got the all-nighter. *Sigh* So I packed the little soft-side cooler full of goodies including homemade bread pudding, and sent him on his way. And Monday night we did a repeat. She was finally released late Tuesday morning with a diagnosis of transient ischemic attacks (mini-strokes) and a prescription for what turned out to be $300 worth of medicines.
Oh, did I mention that part of Mother-in-law's helplessness includes a complete inability to get herself onto things like prescription insurance programs?
Aaaaaaggggghhhh!!!!!!!
So Dan ponied up the $300 and then showed the receipt to his siblings. The same siblings who had previously told him, voices dripping with sincerity and can-do spirit, that all such expenses would be split three ways. The same siblings who were now suddenly, mysteriously broke. These are also the same siblings who by virtue of their proximity (one lives with her, the other next door) promised over a year ago to get their Mom onto AARP's insurance and see what else she may qualify for. They didn't do that, either.
This puts us in quite a pickle. Obviously a loved one's life is worth the inconvenience of time and money, but we just don't have $300 a month sitting around here. If we had that kind of money left over at the end of the month, I'd be sending it to the student loan people. We could afford a mortgage on an inner-loop home with an extra $300 per month. We just don't have it and we can't wish it into existence.
And we shouldn't have to. It's their mother, too. TIAs have a very high rate of being precursors to bigger, serious strokes resulting in paralysis or death if they aren't treated properly and promptly. That includes proper medication. One has to wonder just what the sibs would do if they didn't think they could shove the whole responsibility onto my husband. Would they just let her die?
Grrrrr.....
In other news, I had a weird Saturday workout. It's usually my long run day, but threatening clouds and a stiff wind made me rethink the matter and head to the gym instead. In these circumstances, I usually alternate 30 minutes elliptical/30 minutes treadmill to keep myself from going mad with boredom. After two hours of this and still no rain, I went back to my apartment, changed into some dry clothes and went for a short run on the bayou trails.
On Sunday there were no organized rides, nor had I been invited anywhere, so I had planned to do a spin session. But I was up too late waiting on Dan's calls to get up with the chickens and do my spinning before he came home. Once he was home and asleep, it was out of the question. So I saved my spin session for evening and spent the day cooking instead. I made a week's worth of brown rice and veggies, and also made my first-ever batch of yogurt.
The yogurt almost turned into a disaster. Even though I followed the instructions to the letter, the yogurt didn't set within the three hours promised by the website I used. Luckily I'd seen other websites that said it would take 5 hours, 8 hours or even 12-24. So I didn't get discouraged and toss the jars, but left them sitting in the warm water and by 8 pm it looked like it might be starting to gel. By 9:30 I had yogurt. Real yogurt made in my dinky little kitchen by yours truly! Best of all, it was creamy and much tastier than store-bought. Yay, me!
So that's my news. And exciting stuff it is.
Recent Workouts
Saturday: 1 hour elliptical, 1 hour treadmill, 3 mile run
Sunday: 90 minute bike - Spinervals 5.0 Mental Toughness
Monday: 45 minute core and strength training, 30 minute lunchtime walk, 30 minute elliptical
Tuesday: 45 minute core and strength training, 30 minute lunchtime walk, 45 minute bike - Spinervals 3.0 Suffer-O-Rama
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