Too much of a good thing?

I am so happy to be running again that each week I am upping my mileage. And, as a friend pointed out, I am also upping my caffeine intake again. I should probably think twice about both.

Since this is considered post-season, or off-season, for me, I should be using the time to rest, relax and maintain a moderate level of fitness. The next race is not until May so I have almost four months before I have to start training again. Instead, I am constantly thinking about training and dreaming about the races I still want to do . . . a Rock-N-Roll Half Marathon, The Outer Banks Marathon, the Savage Half Iron Man, Chesapeake Man or Eagle Man, the Iron Man . . . the list goes on.

Since returning to running in September, I have been steadily increasing my mileage. What I can't figure out is why. Probably, in part, because I can, partly because it's fun, and partly because it allows me to continue eating the foods I love. So, where do I stop? Five miles? Six? My husband, my fellow triathlete and training partner, suggests I aim for two or three runs a week, ranging from three to six miles each, plus a third or fourth short run in the Vibrams. I wonder if this will be enough to satisfy my craving--for running and for coffee, since the two seem to go hand-in-hand these days.

I didn't always drink coffee. There was a time when I didn't even like it, didn't even own a coffee pot. Then there was a trip to Seattle, right before my first child was born, when my husband and I visited the original Starbucks and Seattle's Best Coffee and I was able to sample good coffee. After that, I began drinking coffee socially--after holiday dinners, when friends or family would visit, on special occasions. I had a strict "one cup a day" rule and would plan my day around that cup in the same way that dieters limit calories at lunch if they plan to splurge at dinner. A coffee drinker was born! Before long, I was drinking my "one cup" daily, which soon became two cups or three cups. The caffeine didn't even affect me anymore and coffee became a habit--a problem! I had to have that cuppa; couldn't go anywhere without it. When it became too expensive to buy Starbucks regularly, I started brewing my own at home. I was a coffee junkie. I felt like coffee was ruling my life!

Then, last February, after nearly nine years (gasp!) as a coffee drinker, I embarked on a nutrition program that had a strict no caffeine rule. There were other things I had to give up too, but coffee was one of the hardest to part with. The program did allow for one cup of black decaf per day. ?? And, junkie or no, that was a deal breaker. I couldn't figure out the point of decaf and I couldn't stomach the taste of black coffee--I'd always had mine spiced and frothed and sprinkled--so I could honestly say that if it had to be black decaf, then I'd rather not have it at all.

And I didn't. For almost six months, I didn't have any--not a single cup. I switched to green tea, which was simply unsatisfying and first, but I eventually began to enjoy it and appreciate the extra health benefits I was getting from it. (Well, that was my pep talk and I'm sticking to it!)

After six months on the nutrition program and not getting the results I'd hoped for, I slowly let some of the forbidden items back into my life, like shellfish and chocolate and, yes, coffee. And the first full cup of leaded rocked my world! I was shaking, stammering, having heart palpitations . . . it was eye-opening to see how my body reacted to caffeine after it had been out of my system for so long.

And I realized I could harness that energy! What a great weapon to add to my training and racing arsenal! So, that's what I did. Now, before any long workout, and definitely before a race, I brew a pot, pour a cup, suck it down, and wait for the performance-enhancing effects to kick in. Awesome! I won't race without it.

But my friend has a point--if I start drinking it too much, will I start to lose that kick? Will the effects start to diminish?

In the name of coffee and of running I ask myself . . . how much is too much?

The one that (almost) got away

Today was one of those days that kept slipping through my fingers and I wasn't sure if I'd get a workout in or not, even though I'd only planned to lift since I ran two days in a row--a first since the fracture in July.

I spent the morning freezing on the soccer fields watching my girls play and, afterward, all I wanted to do was warm up (and eat). Of course, the fastest way to warm up would have been to workout, but instead I had lunch, then a half caf cuppa with my husband (once again looking for that motivation in a mug) and maybe I am building some immunity to the caffeine in such low doses because all I wanted to do was sleep. But I didn't. I'm not sure what I did, but an hour slipped by, then two, then three and then . . . my dog! She needed to get out and that is finally what spurred me into action. I swear, owning a dog really is one of the best ways to make sure you stay fit. There is a great saying that I love: "If your dog is overweight, then you are not getting enough exercise." So true!

So off we went, my dog getting to read the newspaper (ie, sniff the ground) and me getting to (increase my heart rate and) marvel at the sun filtering through the clouds, creating a beautiful silver ring around each one, its rays illuminating the leaves on the trees bringing the colors to life--a view I wouldn't have gotten from my couch.

The lift I got from that walk carried me through to the gym wear I enjoyed a lift of a different kind--the kind that includes hand weights and crunches.

So, the day almost got away from me, but I'm grabbed hold of it just in time. Which reminds me of another saying I love: "You'll never regret the workouts you get, only the ones you let get away."

Choose sanity

Daily exercise is usually what keeps me sane.

Lately, though, I return from a run only to have my stress levels skyrocket again as I'm met by the stacks of paperwork on my desk and the piles of laundry all over my house.

So, today, I erased lifting and running from my "to do" list and chose sanity in a different form. I put my kids on the bus, steeped some white-green tea and tucked myself away in my office, not to emerge for three hours.

And it felt great! Though my shoulders were knotted from sitting at a desk and my eyes were tired of staring at the computer screen, my mind was unusually free. Clearing the clutter from my desk simultaneously cleared the clutter from my mind; my life.

By afternoon I decided I'd done enough to deserve a brisk walk around the neighborhood before digging in again. My dog, Luna, deserved a brisk walk around the neighborhood, too.

But the minute I stepped outside and started moving, the endorphins began to flow, the usual drive returning in a rush, the insanity taking hold: Must. Get. Exercise. It must be what a shopaholic feels like when she stumbles across a great purse or the perfect pair of shoes on sale: you just have to have it!

For me, exercise is my addiction and once the urge hits, I am powerless to stop it from taking over. There was no way I was going back into my office before I'd spent some time with an elevated heart rate. That would be insane!

So Luna and I picked up the pace and walked at a good clip for 40 minutes. Afterward, I dropped Luna off at home, panting and satisfied from her walk, and did a quick gear change because, unlike Luna, I was not satisfied with just a walk. Instead, I set out for a quick 1.5 mile loop in my Vibrams; an important part of my training and rehabilitation right now--to make sure barefoot-style running accounts for 10 percent of my weekly mileage.

Feeling better and even more accomplished than I had with merely a clean desktop, I headed home energized and took three steps into my house before turning around and heading right back out the door. The air inside my heated home suddenly felt still and stifling compared to the cool fall air outside. Plus, I needed to stretch. Stretching is the most neglected part of my fitness routine. I once read that if you don't have time to stretch after a run, then you shouldn't run at all. Or, at a minimum, you should shorten your run enough to leave time for stretching afterward. Especially as you enter your "master athlete" years (that is, age 40 and older).

So I stretched in my front yard while I cooled down, and my house was much more inviting upon my return the second time.

It would have been insane to stay inside on such a beautiful day.

Bring on the rain

I think I've forgotten how to relax.

I've been so busy for so long, on such a "tight schedule," as my daughter would say, that my new-found freedom, and the flexibility that comes with it, is proving to be a challenge for me.

Maybe I'm more type-A than I thought I was, but apparently I need a schedule in order to function properly. That, and a cup of coffee.

I still run a tight ship when the girls are home--our school mornings are planned to the minute--but as soon as they're on the bus, the day is mostly mine and I often find myself wondering what to do first. Run now, work later? Shower, run errands, then run? But then I'll have to shower again. Work first, drink some coffee and wait for the caffeine to jolt me out the door?

I know, I know. It really is a privilege to have such worries. But it's still stressful to the uninitiated.

This morning it was raining and cold. The forecast predicted lighter rain and slightly warmer temps in the afternoon, so I decided errands first, run later.

While I was out and about, I treated myself to a Caribou Coffee Caramel High Rise and did my best imitation of a writer sitting in a cafe, outlining ideas for a new project. I'm not sure I was very convincing with my pen and pad of paper, magazine at the ready should I lose my writing mojo. But the coffee part was effective. By the time I got home I felt like I was going to have a heart attack! Despite the fact that I wimped out at the last minute and only ordered a half caf (I know, not very hard core creative type), that 16 oz drink still had a full shot of leaded and it sent me over the moon.

Rain? What rain? I love running in the rain! Not one to let a good java buzz go to waste, I dashed into the nearest phone both and came charging back out with my cape flying behind me. Faster than a speeding bullet I ran those 4.5 miles, loving every splashing step. Seriously, the rain felt amazing. After running from the rain all day, if felt liberating to be running in it.

It's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's triathlon mom! On caffeine. So, bring on the rain! I'll schedule some time to relax later.

Looking the part

With no races on the horizon, I'm spending some of my down time clearing out my inbox--which includes emails from sports photographers who have taken pictures during this years' race season.

As a rule, I do not like pictures of myself. I am not photogenic. Sometimes I get lucky and have a decent shot but, for the most part, the camera most-definitely doesn't love me. Or, at least, the image I often see of myself on film is not the image I see of myself in my head or in my mirror. It's kind of like hearing your own voice on a recording . . . it never sounds like you think it should. In photographs, I never look like I wish I would!

So, after intensely training for triathlons for seven months and being in the best shape of my life, I am scrolling through pictures of myself at one of the races and the only word that comes to mind is "chunk!" Seriously, my legs just look like big tree trunks. I appear huge on that small, streamlined bike. And for all the compression my cycling shorts provide, they are definitely not minimizing! Where are the pictures that showcase the rippling quads and bulging biceps that I imagine, the ones I wish for and work so hard for? (Note: The picture posted in this blog is not one of the "chunk" shots I am complaining about. The picture I posted is one of the few I actually like!)

I have a friend who has, on several occasions now, been told, to her delight, that she looks like a runner. And it's true. She does look like a runner. She is fit and cut and, to use her own words, she has "learned to embrace her boy body." And I am so envious! Because I know it is not likely I will ever hear a comment like that from a stranger or a passerby, who has no idea that I'm a triathlete and that I train year-round and work out five or six days a week. I may dress the part, but I do not "look" like a runner.

When I mentioned this to another friend, she did not disagree. Instead, she said I look "strong." What, exactly, does that mean? What does strong look like? Trees look strong. Buildings look strong. An ox looks strong. But I sure don't want to be likened to any of those!

I guess I have not fully learned to embrace my "womanly body." Because, really, that's what I have. My face, nose, neck, arms and torso are long and lean. But the long and lean stops there. My legs are short and not particularly shapely; the rest of my body is curvy--the classic hourglass. I have a small waist and a flat stomach (never mind that is less so since having children) and the balcony is full--so much so that it's hard to find my bra size in the store. And let's not forget the good ol' "child-bearin' hips." In fact, I come from a long line of hippy-chick women. When I gain any weight at all I suddenly have a side order of saddlebags.

But having a shapely figure is great most of the time--except when I'm running. Or trying to find the appropriate, supportive triathlon gear that can take me from the swim to the run. (Let me tell you: it doesn't exist!) Or when the camera is busy adding ten pounds (and it's not ten pounds of muscle, either!)

Speaking of muscles, when I lift weights, I have the ability to add muscle mass like crazy. However, the effect is just bulky so I tend to stick to lighter weights and higher reps. Because, believe me, there is a huge difference between bulky muscles and cut muscles. And, frankly, I just carry too much body fat to ever look cut. When I was in college, I gave some thought to continuing as a cheerleader. At one of the practices, the coach decided to torture us with those fat calipers, or whatever they are--those huge, metal pinchers--and after she finished pinching inches all over me--on my upper arms, stomach, hips and thighs--she announced that I had too much body fat. Huh? That was a first, but maybe it was somewhat true.

During one memorable lifeguard training course, I was paired with my brother and we had to practice rescuing a drowning victim and towing that person to shore. My brother got the easy end of that deal because, while he sinks like a rock, I float like a Macy's Day Parade balloon!

But that's just me; it's just the way I'm built. Despite the fact that I'm at the ideal weight for my height, that I'm at peak fitness, that I have the heart rate and blood pressure of a teenager, and that I eat super-healthy (well, most of the time), I will never be thin, cut or petite. And I will probably never be called a "runner."

But that's okay. My husband recently caught me sorting through a pile of laundry, trying to find the least-smelly shirt to wear for a run. He laughed and said, "you're an athlete." And those were the best three words I could have heard that day.

Rest is relative

Today was a "rest" day. Some of these are by choice, others are forced by the schedule. Today was a bit of both.

Since I lifted and ran on Saturday, I did not plan a workout for today, though if the kids had not been off school for election day, I probably would have tried to cross-train with an easy walk or hike. My muscles, especially my quads, are sore from my new lifting workout which included lunges with weights.

But "rest" is a relative word. I did not break a sweat or raise my heart rate as the result of a workout. Instead, I carpooled kids to playdates and birthday parties and doctor appointments, cleaned the house, did a couple loads of laundry, started dismantling Halloween, went to the grocery store to pick up produce and prescriptions, went to vote, made those mind-numbing, time consuming phone calls to insurance companies and doctors offices, canceled subscriptions and made appointments.

Finally, it was time to make dinner--homemade spinach pesto on whole wheat pasta--and pack lunches for school tomorrow. And, oh yeah, empty the dishwasher (again) and clean the kitchen (again).

If this is considered a "rest" day, I'll take a hard, heart-pounding, sweat-inducing workout any day of the week!

Legal drugs

When my hands started shaking so badly I could barely tie my shoes, I knew it was time for my run--and it would be a good one!

After taking a 6-month break from caffeine, the boost I get from it now is amazing. Even green tea will give me a kick. So, each day, I assess my caffeine needs based on what I have to accomplish and how motivated I am. I mean, really, the stuff is awesome--such a performance enhancer, and it's legal!

Today was one of those days where I had too much to do in too little time and I wasn't feeling particularly peppy. It would have been so easy to blow off my workout and an afternoon appointment to stay home and dig in. Instead, I dialed up my caffeine requirement to max, brewed a pot of full-test, and before long I was quivering in my slippers.

While I waited for the caffeine to kick in, I dragged myself to the gym for a 30-minute lifting session. I really didn't want to, but I kept repeating the phrase "just do it, just do it" because it really is as simple as that. Nike struck gold with that slogan.

A few squats later I was warmed up, caffeine moving through my veins, and then it was run time. I got my first stitch in ages, which could have been from not focusing on my breath, from running so fast, or from my lungs not being prepared to inhale 43 degree air. (I'm putting my money on running fast--haha!) Luckily, it didn't last long and I logged 4.5 miles in just under 40 minutes--not bad after being benched for so long.

Hopefully I ran fast enough to burn the chips & cheese and three mini candy bars I scarfed tonight.