Modern-day Enjoli woman?

A friend of mine shared an article from the Wall Street Journal titled: "Don't Hate Her for Being Fit;

More Moms Squeeze in Workouts as 'Me' Time; Playground Pilates, 'To Fro' Dresses" 

Article link: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052702304039104577534804233667684.html

It's an interesting article (Thanks, Katie, for sharing). But reading it definitely raised a few points of contention and caused me, one of the so-called "happy crazy" moms being generalized in this article, to bristle. Yes, I admit that much of it rings very true and I do fit, mostly, into this category. With a few exceptions:

1) I do still crave "me" time that doesn't involve exercising--like reading or spending time with friends.

2) I do still seek escape via a bottle of red and some dark chocolate. I'm most definitely not above that!

3) Despite being lumped in with a growing demographic that advertisers are salivating over, I refuse to be a target. (This being helped along by the fact that I hate to shop!) But also because I am secure in my sense of what I need (vs what I want) and what works for me--I value my own opinion, based on my own experiences, over that of some ad exec who's simply trying to fill the company coffers. Take energy bars, for instance. Yes, I do keep a stash of Lara bars that I buy in bulk to carry around with me "just in case," exactly as described in the article. Guilty as charged. However, I do not rely on this as a diet staple, but something to be used in a pinch. A piece of toasted whole grain with almond butter and honey is just as portable and healthy as a pre-packaged bar, provides the quick energy and sustenance I need, and is definitely less expensive and, sans the wrapper and packaging, more earth-friendly.

4) Speaking of less expensive, while I admire the active lifestyle being promoted and supported by companies such as Athleta and Title 9, I don't appreciate the price tag. These clothes are not cheap! And, as also noted in this article, my income is that of a part-time "happy crazy" mom and therefore must be budgeted and spent wisely. I surely don't have $98 to spend on some halter dress! Well, maybe if it could do the laundry for me . . . 

5) And, don't get me wrong, I do really like Athleta (I just don't buy their stuff unless it's on sale or I have a gift card) but I don't like the subtle pressure being put on women with their whole "Power to the She" campaign. It's like a modern-day twist on the old "Enjoli woman," who has to work (bring home the bacon), cook and care for her family and her home (fry it up in a pan) and look good while doing it! 

  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jA4DR4vEgrs

I say, if you want to do it all, and you can do it all, and it does makes you "happy crazy" to do so, then, by all means, do it! (Happy being the operative word). But, if you need a break from being everything to and for everyone (including yourself) and simply want to hunker down in a nice bath with a good book, a bottle of wine and a bar of Godiva, then all the more "power to the she." 

Swimming offers fitness for a lifetime

From my fitness column, "For the Fun of Fit":


                                      Swimming offers fitness for a lifetime

It’s that time of year again—no more pencils, no more books, but plenty of sunscreen and time spent at our local pool, where we've been members for seven years; and, it’s not the idyllic setting of the pool and lazy days in the sun that keeps us coming back. It’s the swim team.

I was not a swim team kid. In fact, I spent my childhood summers on the diving team and couldn’t understand why anyone would want to just swim back and forth, back and forth. The repetition seemed horribly tedious and boring, especially when compared to the dynamic and explosive flips, turns and twists we got to execute off the diving boards.

            

But, while my diving days fizzled by the time I reached college, many of my swim team counterparts continued swimming, back and forth, back and forth, and are now shaming me in the water at triathlons. 

You see, swimming, along with other low-impact sports such as golf, cycling and bowling, are lifetime sports, unlike diving, gymnastics, and football, which don’t have a particularly long shelf life. I guarantee you won’t soon see a seventy-year-old doing back handsprings, but there are plenty of seniors gracing the lap lanes of any swimming pool.

In addition to being a lifetime sport, knowing how to swim also is a matter of safety, which is how it all began for our family. I grew up boating and skiing on the Chesapeake Bay and I knew my kids would spend time on the water too, so learning to swim was not optional.

           
 At our swim club, swim lessons for members are $40 for ten thirty minute sessions; a bargain compared to other programs we’d participated in. Eventually, I began to take notice of the throngs of young swimmers who were exiting the water as we entered for lessons—the swim team. I soon discovered that the registration fee to join the Serpents swim team was $65 per child with discounted rates for siblings. For this fee, my children would swim for 75 minutes every day over two months instead of only 30 minutes a day for two weeks. Not only would my children learn to swim, but they would learn to swim well, while getting daily exercise and gaining confidence in the water. We were in.

           
Over the years, I’ve learned a lot about the swim team culture and the various pros and cons of the sport. While I don’t particularly relish getting up early and packing lunches six days a week during the summer, I do enjoy that our whole family is together for meets and not running in different directions. I also appreciate the positive atmosphere created by the swim team’s spirit activities and that it is both a team sport as well as an individual sport.

            
Mostly, I no longer view the swimmers in the water as simply going back and forth, back and forth, but realize that they’re on to something good—creating a foundation for a lifetime of fitness. 

How to identify, treat ITBS

From my fitness column:

Q: “What do you do to get over ITBS problems? My sister-in-law had it while training for the Marine Corps Marathon.”-- Susan A.

A: First and foremost, the one word athletes loathe to hear: RICE  (Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation)

No, not this kind of rice.

My first experience with ITBS (Iliotibial Band Syndrome) was roughly 14 years ago, though, at the time, I had no idea what was causing the extreme pain at the side of my knee and left me nearly unable to climb the stairs after a run. But then I had three kids in five years and running was put on hold, allowing the band to heal.

ITB

When I resumed running several years later, the pain returned. I’d start off feeling great and then, like clockwork, I’d hit the two mile mark and the side of my knee would begin to ache. Sometimes I could run through it; other times, the pain got worse with each step and, every time, my knee was left feeling stiff and sore afterward. Scouring the internet, I found that my symptoms exactly matched those associated with ITBS. My father-in-law, who was working as a Physical Therapist Assistant, agreed with my self-diagnosis and recommended several stretches to loosen my Iliotibial (IT) Band. After a period of rest and, subsequently, following a strict stretching regimen, I've had no further problems with ITBS, which, according to anaerobic.net, is the most common cause of pain on the outside of the knee in runners.

ITB Stretch

The IT band, which stabilizes the knee, is a thick band of fibrous tissue that extends from the outer edge of the pelvis, crosses the hip, and inserts just below the knee. According to orthopedics.about.com, the irritation usually occurs over the outside of the knee joint at the lateral epicondyle, where the femur bone ends. At this point, the IT Band crosses over bone and muscle, and a thin bursa, or fluid-filled sac, located between these two structures, is designed to reduce friction and facilitate a smooth gliding motion. However, when the band becomes inflamed from the repetitive motion and continual extension and flexion of the knee during running, it does not glide easily, resulting in pain at the outer edge of the knee and sometimes a stinging sensation along the entire length of the band.

                                       

ITBS can be caused by a number of things, including running on banked surfaces, inadequate warm-ups or cool downs, excessive hill running, a sudden increase in mileage or intensity, high or low arches, supination of the foot, over-pronation, uneven leg length, a tight IT band, weak hip abductor muscles and worn-out shoes.

In addition to RICE, stretching and anti-inflammatory medications can be used to treat ITBS, as well as foam rollers to loosen the IT band. Taping and wrapping the knee, which provides support and compression, also are effective treatments. Consulting a physician, physical therapist or massage therapist, especially one with experience treating sports-related injuries, is always a good idea.   

Once the acute symptoms of ITBS have been addressed, it’s important to continue building strength and flexibility of the hip and knee as well as including cross-training in your workouts. Be sure to change your running shoes every 300 to 500 miles and to slowly increase running mileage and intensity. Most importantly, be sure to cool down and stretch thoroughly after each workout. 

Don't sweat it

If you're looking for an inspirational, motivational post that supports the adage: "The only workouts you'll regret are the ones you skip," this is not that post.

I have been training for triathlons for six years, the schedule increasing in duration and intensity year after year and culminating in my first Ironman race last November, and I can  honestly say I have never regretted a workout. Never!

Until yesterday.

I've had workout sessions in all kinds of weather--extreme heat, extreme cold, extreme thunderstorms--but I've always been glad that I "got 'er done."

Last year, training for IM Cozumel was extreme. A relentless schedule of 11 grueling workouts a week. And it wasn't just about the workouts--there was also a meticulous focus on getting enough sleep, staying healthy, eating well, and drinking and socializing very little. Believe me, it was all worth it--every minute!--but the effort took its toll and so, my husband and I declared this year an "off" year, meaning we would be less intense, less focused and allow more room in our schedules for things other than work, triathlon and parenting. 


But, it's been easier said then done. It really has been hard to let go and has left me wondering when the line is crossed from triathlon being something you "do" and becoming something you "are." Being a triathlete is a huge part of my identity and without doing the thing that makes up part of who I "am," I'm sometimes left feeling a little lost. This, however, is another post entirely, but I wanted to set the backdrop for yesterday's mental state and decision making. 


Yesterday was a "bike" day. These workouts are put on the calendar, in ink, and babysitters are scheduled as needed. We go whenever time and sitters permit, squeezing in time for our own workouts in and around the busy schedules of our three active daughters. It didn't matter that the afternoon temp was forecast to be 100 degrees plus humidity--It was bike day.  

But first, there was the swim meet, where we sat sweltering (I mean, acclimating) for five hours before heading home to prepare for our ride. I was already grumpy and agitated from hours spent in the heat and was beginning to gauge the absurdity of what we were about to undertake--biking almost 40 miles with a heat index of about 105-107. 

Last summer, while training for the IM, we had a ride under similar, but not quite as brutal, conditions, and it was awful. Last summer, however, workouts did not seem "optional" and I didn't really know any better, having never attempted such a workout in that type of heat. I remember being pretty miserable, but also that, like every other time, I was glad I'd done it. I clung to this notion while preparing for yesterday's suffer-fest. 


With little time to recover from the morning spent in triple-digit temps, we were out the door again. By mile 10, I knew it was a mistake. I crested the top of a challenging hill and stopped to rest and cool my body by dousing it with water, though I hated to use a single drop that was meant for drinking. 

My skin was smothering under a layer of sunscreen, and the wicking shirt, while doing its job of lifting the sweat from my body, left no moisture to evaporate from and, hence, cool, my skin. I couldn't breathe, and even cycling in granny gears was a major effort. I announced to my husband that I was going to turn back and seek a shadier, flatter route home. He, who is normally way more heat-sensitive than I, seemed to be doing fine and was confused and surprised by this and, though he would have supported whatever decision I made, inadvertently made me feel like a total wimp for even thinking of quitting. And so, I gathered my resolve to push on, knowing that some of the worst climbs were still ahead. 


In hindsight, if we were so determined to go forward with this ride, we should have at least deferred until evening when the sun's decreasing angle might have created some shadows on the pavement. As it was, the sun was high and bright in the sky and there wasn't a speck of shade to be found, nor a single cloud to cast the tiniest veil over its searing rays. I thought of High Noon in Texas. 

My husband lapped me repeatedly, issuing words of support and encouragement. My words in return were not nearly as kind and I spit out that I'd rather he refrain from speaking to me at all. I'd soured to the point of feeling like Queen Bee in my daughter's book "I Hate Everyone" as the words I uttered to myself had morphed from positive things like "You can do this," "You did Ironman," "Chrissie rides in the lava fields of Hawaii," to "I hate this," "This is way hotter than Cozumel," "I hate my bike, I hate this ride, I hate the sun, I hate that my water is as refreshing as sipping from a hot tub!" 

Crossing the half-way point around mile 18, the wind shifted and suddenly teased goose bumps from my hot skin--the little peaks of flesh straining to reach any puff of air. Uh oh. Not good. It's never a good thing to get the chills on a 100-degree day.

I was averaging a pace as slow as what I'd clocked while riding in the mountains of Garrett County last September. With bronchitis. With 10 miles to go, I realized I was out of water. My lips were so dry they were sticking together. Fortunately, our local swim club sits on one of the main roads home and as I crested yet another hill, there it was, shimmering like an oasis in the desert.Without delay, I pedaled my pitiful, sopping self into the club, stripped off my helmet and shoes, and jumped into the deep end. Chills coursed through my body, my head began to pound, my neck ached, and my mind went a little fuzzy. I climbed out, black spots swimming before my eyes, and walked on wobbly legs to the snack bar, where I begged two bottles of ice water. Exiting the pool, I gave one of the bottles to my husband where he sat mending a flat tire. I finished my own bottle within minutes.

Finally, we were home. I literally felt cooked, like the old "brain on drugs" commercial, and was thoroughly depleted. Nausea began to set in and I found it hard to get my recovery drink down. Instead of being a relief, the air-conditioned house chilled me to the bone, so I sought my recovery outside on the covered deck, lying beneath the gentle breeze of the fan with my legs elevated on a chair. It was in this position that I slept, my body fighting to recover and restore its equilibrium.

It was after a shower and finally being able to stomach a full meal that I began to ask myself "why?" Why did I go? For what purpose? What did I gain?

Was I glad I went? No. I was mildly shocked to realize this was probably the first workout I've ever regretted.

It was also a prime example of when, in this self-declared "off" year, it would have been fine--wise, even--to have skipped a workout. I believe the cost was far greater than the gain.

I don't know exactly when my tolerance for heat began to slip, but I think it was sometime around my second or third pregnancy, when the little heaters humming and growing within me seemed to permanently, if ever so slightly, raise my core body temperature. Certainly heat was a non-issue for me in my teens and twenties, when basking in the hot summer sun, and under the tropical South Florida rays, was pure bliss.  But not anymore.

                          

Today was the first day I've truly lived the principle of an "off" year. I was scheduled for a 7 mile run. Though getting up early would have allowed for marginally cooler temps, it would have spared me nothing in terms of humidity--and I really needed the sleep. So I slept. At 10 AM, the temp was 88, but the heat index was 97. I fretted for 30 minutes over what to do, as visions of yesterday's ride pierced my brain, the mere memory making me feel ill and causing sweat to pop out on my forehead. What would I gain by putting myself through that again today? Nothing. Why would I be doing it? I wasn't sure--my next race is still a month away and the run is only a 10K. So I opted out and suffered from feelings of guilt for the next hour, before finally settling into a productive, yet restful day at home.

Besides, said my addicted little mind, you're not "skipping" the workout, but merely postponing it until tomorrow . . .

Triathlon is more than swim, bike, run

 

     

+ T?

The sport of triathlon is known to consist of three separate events: swimming, cycling and running. However, any triathlon veteran is likely to agree that the sport would be more aptly named a quadathlon, since “transitioning” plays an important and often pivotal role in the race.

It has been said that a triathlon cannot be won in the swim, but it can be lost there. The same holds true for the transition area, a designated “secure” area that all triathletes move through twice during a race. While I regularly train for the swim, bike and run legs, I don’t spend nearly enough time perfecting my transitions and, as a result, have given up more than one podium spot due to inefficiencies in this area.

The first transition, or “T1,” takes place after the swim, when athletes ditch caps, goggles and sometimes wetsuits in favor of helmets, sunglasses and bikes. The second transition, “T2,” occurs after the bike leg when helmets and bike shoes are exchanged for visors and running flats and bikes are returned to the rack.  

In fact, the transition area plays such a key role in the sport of triathlon that entire workshops are devoted to detailing all that is required and recommended in T1 and T2. I recently spoke with a woman who is preparing for her first triathlon and she said she wasn’t nervous about her upcoming race until after the workshop, which she described as “overwhelming,” a common sentiment expressed by newcomers to multisport.

However, transitioning eventually becomes just another part of the routine. Athletes learn from experience what is necessary, such as goggles and fluids, and what is extraneous, such as socks or watches, as well as what is required, such as helmets and race numbers and what is prohibited, such as iPods and pacers.

Once the basics are mastered, it’s perfecting the technique that is important; practice is the key. If you’ve never worn a wetsuit before, it’s advisable to try removing it a few times before race day as the clingy neoprene is surprisingly difficult to peel off. And, as with any sport, never experiment with anything new on race day. If you’re used to riding with cycling gloves, wear them; the handlebars and brakes may feel unusually slippery without them.  

To shave seconds off transition time, some triathletes start cycling without shoes, opting to slip into them while on the move. Similarly, what has been referred to as a “flying dismount” is sometimes seen at triathlons, where athletes remove their feet from their shoes prior to the transition area and leap off their still-moving bike sans footwear. After five years of competing in triathlons, I have yet to master this stunt. As it is, I’m incredibly wobbly and uncoordinated on and off the bike; the last thing I need to do is crash while attempting this acrobatic feat. 

In triathlon, as in life, every person must experiment with what works, what doesn’t, and what is worth the risk.   

The South Carroll Sprint Triathlon

South Carroll Sprint Triathlon 

2012 Race Recap:

My first naked race!

Caution: Full, complete, boring details and speculation ahead. Proceed at your own risk. 

The Morning:

The alarm went off at O’dark thirty. I hadn’t slept at all; had simply lain there for five hours with my eyes closed. Thankfully I’d had a good night’s sleep the day before.

Put down some oatmeal and indulged in a little “Peanut Butter Jelly Time,” which is on its way to becoming a new pre-race ritual.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRBOgtp0Hac

At 5:30 AM, large cuppa joe in hand, we hit the road for the short drive to the race venue, Hot Sauce Committee part two serving as the audio backdrop to our journey.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9JlPagwuyLA

It was a tad chilly in the AM, but shaping up to be a beautiful day.

Me, my husband and my father-in-law in the transition area pre-race, as the sun rises on the venue

With my transition area set and ready to go, it was off to body marking, chip pick up and potty check. The small, local race of 278 competitors lends itself to an easy, stress-free morning.

And then, I tried something new on race day!

Though I’ve competed in twenty-some triathlons over the past five years, I’ve never warmed up before a race. Never. I’ve hopped around, busted out a few knee raises, heel kicks and arm swings, and even indulged in the occasional sun salutation, but I’ve never been one of those athletes you see on race morning sprinting or cycling around the venue. But, on this day, I decided to give it a try. So, after I finished all my pre-race preparations, I slipped on my running shoes and ran a lap. No biggie. It did get the blood flowing but I don’t think it really made much difference.

I also decided to swim a few laps before the race in hopes of avoiding the dreaded “lead arms” that typically kick in around the 50-100 meter mark. My husband, a former college swimmer, swears by this, as do most swimmers. The difference is, fast as he is in the water, he’s almost always one of the first people to start. So he can warm up in the water moments before his race begins while the rest of us peons are left to sit, soaking wet, for up to an hour while we wait for our turn. I’ve always assumed that any benefit I’d gain by swimming before a race would be gone by the time I got in the water, not to mention that I’d spend the intervening time trying to keep warm and keep my goggles from fogging up.

But this year I came prepared. Armed with a towel and jacket, I shivered as I stripped down to my bathing suit at 6:50 AM. The race was scheduled to start at 7 AM and I was in the 7:12 wave, so my drippy wet wait would be less than 30 minutes.

Nah. At the last minute I decided against it.

 I looked at the other swimmers already in the water (the few, the proud) and was certain that the minute I jumped in they would clear the pool. What good would 50 meters do? I put my warm layers back on and settled for a few push ups.

After the playing of the national anthem, my husband was the first in the water and the first out. He posted the second fastest swim time of the day and had the lead escort throughout the entire bike leg. He was eventually passed in the first mile of the run. Ultimately, he finished 1^st in his division and 5^th overall.

Husband accepting his 2nd place divisional award

As my 7:12 start time approached, I paid one last visit to the rest room, sucked down a gel, and took my place in line. I was happy to get a middle lane in the pool this year as opposed to swimming alongside the wall as I’d done the year before. This was to be my 6^th consecutive start at the South Carroll Sprint Triathlon.

The Swim:

The water was warmer than I’d anticipated and the dreadful “lead arms” never fully materialized, but I was never able to find my rhythm. I felt like a boat that’s been pushed to full throttle and is initially unable to plane out. In a sprint triathlon there isn’t enough time or distance to “plane out” in the swim, so I’m usually left thrashing around and gasping for air. I actually choked a little on the swim and went 10 seconds slower than the year before, which was both unexpected and disappointing given the times I’d logged in training.

T1:

If you’ve read Chrissie Wellington’s book, A Life Without Limits, she refers to herself as “Muppet” when she makes stupid mistakes. I need to find a similar word for myself as I definitely have my fair share of Muppet Moments. This race was no exception. Though I’d spent time focusing on and visualizing my transitions, especially after giving up a first place finish in my last race for running the wrong way out of transition, I still managed to run past my bike rack on the way to T1. Total. Duh. I got to the end of the row and realized “That’s not my bike!” Yep. I’d run right past it. That was probably another 10 seconds I gave up in this race.

Once I located my bike, I moved on to the next new thing I was trying on race day:

A naked race!

Well, not literally, but it felt like it. In an effort to trim the fat from my transitions and eliminate distractions, I raced sans socks, gloves, visor, nutrition and timing devices. The lack of a watch made me the most nervous as I’d have no idea what my time or pace was on the course. I worried this would be a distinct disadvantage on the run.

So, in T1, all I had to do was put on my bike shoes, sunglasses and helmet. I haven’t yet mastered the art of getting into and out of my bike shoes while on the bike. Doing so is a Muppet Moment just waiting to happen.  

But, despite all the paring down, T1 was 7 seconds slower for me this year than last.  Probably due to my inability to locate my bike!

The Bike:

I worked hard. Huffed and puffed the whole way and rarely found moments in which I could suck down water instead of air. The result was that I only drank about half of the water in my front-loader, or about 10 oz, during the bike. Luckily, it wasn’t very hot or humid so excess fluids weren’t a necessity. I passed several people and only got passed twice, by guys on super tricked-out bikes. I never got to a point on the course where I could catch my breath.

I finished the bike 39 seconds slower than last year. Of course, I had no idea until after the race. This was another surprising and disappointing discovery, especially given the effort, or at least my own PRE.

T2:

Finally, an improvement! 11 seconds faster here. After re-racking my bike and ditching the helmet, all I had to do was swap bike shoes for running shoes and grab my race belt with my number, which I planned to hook while I was running.

As I shoved my feet into my shoes, the shoe liner bunched. Ditto for the other foot and no time to waste fixing it. It felt awful. I have to run like this for 3 miles?? Maybe, I hoped, it would distract me from the things that were sure to feel worse, like burning lungs and aching legs.  

The Run:

The course starts out on grass, the uneven clumps threatening to turn ankles and make rubbery knees and legs buckle. It was a minor relief to get to the gravel road that finally angled slightly downhill. Except, I kicked a rock the size of a billiard ball and the harder surface made me more aware of the crumpled liners in my shoes. When I finally hit pavement, the course turned uphill. Utter agony. Last year I ran surprisingly well; one of my fastest 5K times to date. To better my run this time seemed unlikely. Nearly impossible. I’d pondered this during the bike as my hamstrings tightened and my quads began to scream. As I ran, I lost my race belt. I didn’t stop. I tried to go into a zone. I aimed for little bursts of speed. When I hit the turnaround point, two things happened: 

First, I realized there were no women gunning for me and I was relieved. The run felt a little better after that. Who knows if I ran slower or faster afterward? All I know is that it didn’t hurt as much, at least not until the final uphill stretch to the finish.

Second, a guy behind me had picked up the belt I’d dropped and handed it to me when I passed. I tried to put it on, but the clip was broken so I had to hold it in my hands. 

I saw several familiar faces heading out for the bike and run; cheering each other on lifted my spirits. I was only passed two or three times on the run, by gazelles. I mean, men. This was an unusual experience for me because the run is often my weakest link and I’m used to being passed by entire herds.

With the final push into the finish chute I resisted the urge to vomit. My chest and legs burned. There was no race clock at the finish line (technical difficulties?) and I didn’t wear a watch. I also didn’t know exactly what time I entered the water. Bottom line: I had absolutely no clue how I’d done. I only knew that I'd given it everything I had that day and, with the exception of the snafu in T1, ran a pretty clean race.

In the end, my run was 8 seconds faster than last year; a PR for me at the 5K distance!

The Result:

There were two women in the race with the chops to be amateur elites. I knew the two would be battling to the finish. I was hoping the one in my age group would be the overall winner, thereby taking her out of the age group awards and removing my biggest competitor in the division. (I use the word “competitor” loosely. I was no threat to her whatsoever.) Anyway, she lost to the other woman by 45 seconds. So, here’s where I landed in the end:  

2^nd place in my division (out of 19)

6th woman overall (out of 134)

41^st overall (out of 278)

Accepting my award for 2nd place in my division

The aftermath:

While I was very happy with the outcome, I later learned that, overall, I was 30 seconds slower this year than last, though the effort seemed so much harder this time. I literally went “all out” for the entire race, as is required in the sprint distance, and it hurt like hell. I worked up enough lactic acid, from the anaerobic effort, to give me "heartburn" for the rest of the day. Tums, my go-to during my pregnancies, couldn’t quell the fire. And, the lack of socks, paired with the scrunched up liners, left two of my toes rubbed raw. But that was the worst of it, physically.

My husband insists that we’d trained harder last year than this year (his overall time was 10 seconds slower) since our first race last season was an Olympic-distance instead of a sprint. This may be true, but all I can say is that I’ve felt exhausted these past few months. Maybe the quantity wasn’t there in training, but it still felt like the quality was.

I once pondered in a column how much more I can reasonably expect to improve. At some point, I realize, I’m just not going to get any faster. That could happen next week, or not for another decade. Who knows? But one thing is certain: if I plotted my age on a line graph along with my race performance, the two lines would eventually intersect as the age line continues to rise and the performance line plateaus or declines.

Have I reached that point? I don’t think so, but the day will come. If my father-in-law is any indication, that day is still decades away. (My FIL, at age 66, placed 1^st in his division of 8 men age 60 & up.)

So, until then, I will continue to train hard and train smart but, most of all, I will have fun challenging myself, pushing my limits and pursuing this sport that I love.  

Husband and I post-race

Next up:

A week off. And I don’t mean a “recovery week,” I mean, completely OFF! I don’t think I’m going to do anything except maybe take a few walks, do some yoga and stretch. Some major re-charging is in order, and I started the week by logging nine hours of sleep and getting a massage. So far, so good. 

Training resumes next week and a new countdown begins: 7 weeks until the next race, an Olympic that we’ve never done and are looking forward to trying. 

Me & my husband with our 2nd and 1st place awards 

Five things I'm loving right now!

At the suggestion of a fellow fitness blogger, I'm sharing the love.

These are five things I'm loving right now:

1) My new running shoes in this wild citron/green color:

People will see me coming for miles in these kicks! My oldest daughter (whose fav color is lime green) was delighted by my choice.


2) Cherries and Beets:

It would seem that bright colors are calling to me at the moment, but I've been craving beets since my local CSA started offering them up and I found the most delish recipe for these root veggies. ((Basically, peel, dice, toss with olive oil, pepper and garlic cloves and roast until tender. Toss with goat cheese when cool.) I love them even more since Outside magazine reported beets as "offering the same boost that performance enhancers do." What's not to like about that?

As for cherries, I've always loved 'em. I can down an entire bowl in one sitting. However, since June of 2005, they've held an even more special place in my heart. Seven years ago this month, and nine months along with my third child, I sat indulging in a huge bowl of this yummy fruit when my water broke. Whoa. That had never happened before. Now I can never eat cherries without remembering that moment!

3) Swimming outside:

                                           

This is not the best picture, but this is where I swim in the summer. I love the YMCA, my home away from home from September through May, but after nine months of swimming indoors, in water hovering around 83 degrees, it is pure bliss to head outside in this tranquil and bucolic setting. There are actually horses romping around on the surrounding farms. Today was my first day of the season in this pool and I loved it--the crisp water, clear blue skies and bright sunshine--though switching from yards to meters always throws me off my game the first few times.

4) A life without limits:

                                              

I own this book. In fact, I have a signed copy of it. I was fortunate to get to meet this amazing woman in person when she was in my area for a book signing. Listening to her talk, to tell her story, was captivating. It's hard to believe that this sweet, friendly, humble, visually non-threatening person is such a beast on the course. Chrissie is not only an amazing athlete, but an amazing person as well and such a positive role model for women and girls.

                                                  

5) Running on the Sun

                                                      

Watch this movie and you'll never whine again. Well, you might whine, but if you do, you'll feel guilty as hell doing it! These people are insane. The kind of people that make me go "Ha!" to the people who call me crazy for some of my athletic pursuits. The idea of running 135 miles (5 marathons!) is enough to make me curl up in a corner and whimper. My knees hurt just thinking about it. But that's not enough for these 40 runners. Oh no. They're not just going to run 135 miles in less than 60 hours (Yes, 60 hours. Of running!), but they're going to do it in one of the hottest, most unforgiving deserts in the world. And, climb up to 5,000 feet once or twice too. Sheesh. Now when I go out running and start feeling hot or tired, I think of these people running The Badwater 135 and I feel ridiculously lame, so I get a grip and keep on running.

So, that's my five. What are your five? Right now! Don't think about it too much, just go with the first five things that come to mind. Post a comment and share your five things . . . share the love!