Whimper

Bobbie6 Comments

I was in New York last week, where I took full advantage of my hotel’s gym, but I’m not going to talk about that right now.

I was going to talk about the travel aspect of New York, having decided that I travel more than I enroll for events, but I’m not going to talk about that right now.

I have a sinus infection courtesy of the Newark-Seattle Continental flight I took, and that will very likely kill my ability to do the triathlon this Sunday, but I’m not going to talk about that right now.

I have a dog. Actually, I have two, but I have a dog named Kumi that I raised from a puppy. She has spent the last five years being raised solely by me, and being a very good girl. I have taught her new tricks in the last few years (Stay — while waving a cookie in the face) and subjected her to a second dog (dubious choice but that’s done) and she’s been the only constant thing in my life in the last five years. She is nearly ten years old.

I found out yesterday she has cancer. What looked like a small lump on her rear (and appeared quite suddenly) is a tumor, and little bits of it are out to a pathology lab for testing. Bloodwork was done as well and that is out for testing.  She can have one of two kinds of cancer: one that’s annoying, will require surgery, and probably some lifelong(?) discomfort in her hind end.

The other means, as the vet put it, “we have to talk about solutions for her comfort”.

I know that talk, and I know she’s hedging, because I used to work in a vet clinic. The first day I worked there I watched an old man have to put his lab down, and the last day I worked there I watched a little boy bring in his dead bunny. It was 18 months of bad smells, pain, and lessons in emotional restraint. She is required to look on the bright side, but as soon as she took the biopsy and it bled, she said, “Well that’s not good”.

Kumi, aside from the aforementioned lump, looks like she always has. She’s lost a little weight, and she’s a little slower than she used to be, but she’s nearly 10 and that is expected. She still wags her tail, still runs around like mad given the opportunity, still eats all of her food and will happily help you with yours.

I don’t want to think about what “solutions for her comfort” means even though I know what they are. It means how long do you want to see your puppy alive and to what expense of their pain threshold or their ability to get around and remain continent. It means that it’s very likely that at some point, I am going to have to be the decider.

I really, really don’t want to be.

Swim, Bike, Walk

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Thanks to the new fancy gym (yes, they made it better, and I will be blathering at length about how wonderful the gym is… later) I am back to swimming, and back to ENJOYING it, which is more important. I swam my half mile yesterday in 22 minutes, not bad for someone who quit swimming for 8 months.

I am not, however, back to running.

I got new shoes. They fit very nicely. But after about a mile and a half of running — hell, let’s be honest, “jogging” (my pace is nowhere near where it used to be, and I think I can speedwalk at the same rate) — my knee hurts, my shin hurts, and I hurt. The change in my gait is noticeable on a treadmill or on pavement, it literally *sounds different* when my right foot hits the ground than my left.  I’ve given it 3 good runs, between 1 and 3 miles each, and they end with me either limping, or walking a significant portion, or both.

At some point when running the half last year, I did something to that knee and I think in my bike training I cemented whatever it was. My kneecap, which I used to get taped for running, is very much different on my left than on my right. Looking down, my right kneecap is pretty flat, a normal kneecap. My left one is at about a 25 degree angle. It doesn’t bother me to walk, or swim, or bike (within the first 60 miles), but running? Running is a whole new branch of hell. Frankly, I do not wish to go back to physical therapy. I think the sports med doctor hit it on the nail when he gave me the choice: you can do phys therapy and finish out this run, and then you have to decide what you are going to do. You either keep up with physical therapy and keep running, or you don’t, but there will be no half measures.

I just didn’t realize he really meant “no half measures” included such previously thought small jaunts as a 3-mile run. I can remember a time where a 3-mile run was the “short run” for the week — and I can remember enjoying it. I figured he was talking about half-marathons.

Even the wonderful Music of Kevin that I got a year plus back is not helping overcome it. Instead of the beauteous endorphin rush I used to get two miles in, I get more and more pissed off, more and more angry, and more and more pain as I run. I am not, in short, having fun.

I Have Decided: no more running.

I’ll do tri’s, I absolutely will: but I will not do runs. I will speedwalk or jog and then walk (Because, having resolved to walk, I will see others run and feel all peppy in the moment). I will attempt to make up the time in the bike and swim parts, which I will enjoy. And I will take advantage of my new fancy gym, with its bevy of classes (including pilates and kickboxing).

I am not running anymore. There, I’ve said it twice, in a public forum. This time it’s real…

PS: Mindimus, I will still do the Rock and Roll Half with you… speedwalking 🙂

Fancy Gym Fail

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Dear Columbia Fitness,

I am so not happy with you.

Right now, I pay something on the order of $56 (after tax) per month to use your Sammamish branch. It’s nice, it has a decent set of equipment, and the people are awesome. It does, however, lack a pool, and if I am to be training for tris I need a pool.

I have until now been driving to Mercer Island to use their pool (at $5.25/pop, plus $0.25 for the lockers, plus roughly $4 in gas roundtrip) and the Spreadsheet tells me that if I pay for your fancy Pine Lake Club membership (which includes use of a pool) that I can break even at a mere two swims a week.

I talked with your people via email, got pool schedules, and arrived at 5pm today to fork over an additional $60/month and have you watch my kid and swim.

Not only were your membership people too busy (which surprises me, I don’t really need a membership person, because I’m already a member I should just be able to have the front desk person upgrade me, right?) but the kids club was closed. This surprised me, because kids club is supposed to be open on Fridays until 8. It says so on the website.

The unhelpful person behind the counter pointed out that on Fridays they close if they don’t have a reservation. Well, your site indicates this phenomena on Sundays, but not on Fridays.

I left your club, and left an email for the membership person I had been talking to, expressing my discontent.

Then I decided to call, spoke to her, and am to arrive tomorrow at 9am to swim and upgrade membership, assured that someone will be there to watch the boychild. Then it occurred to me: kids club opens at 8, so why don’t I just show up at 8 and swim and then sign? I mean, I never got an answer to whether or not a front desk flunky can upgrade my membership for me, right?

So I called. And got ahold of the same unhelpful (if not, vacuous) person as before. Yes, I can totally talk to anyone and even call to upgrade my membership. I said great, can we do that now? No, no I can’t do that because I need to wait until 9am tomorrow: when the membership person is in.

Am I crazy for thinking this is stupid? That Joe Clueless should have been able to figure out that by asking if I could get this out of the way, and by asking if I could come swim at 8am, that I was asking if I could get to talk to ANYONE that would get the damn thing upgraded? Only one of the four lanes is open at 9am and I have no idea how busy it will be or what I will have to deal with. And I’m not altogether confident things will go smoothly.

The axiom of gym memberships is that you’re happy to take money and assume people won’t show up. I want to give you money and show up, you don’t seem to want to let me.

Cl

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Chlorine is put in pools to sanitize it — it bonds to the gunk you leave behind (you do know you leave behind gunk, right?) and turns the gunk into organic  “Chloramines“, which sounds so much nicer than gunk.  Those organic compounds then ostensibly get filtered out so we can all go enjoy the pool.

Chlorinated pool water tastes awful, by the way.

I checked out the Mercer Island pool this morning (at 6:30 AM, yo!) and did some laps; as I suspected I am woefully out of swim shape. While I actually can be faster (with my lap time I could get a half mile done in 16 minutes!) I don’t have the endurance (that would be 16 minutes plus another 16 worth of breaks!) and I have but four weeks (oh, slightly less now) to get that in gear.

I will note that the Mercer Island pool has just enough chlorine to sanitize and not so much that it makes your eyes horribly red; and unlike the LA Fitness in Bellevue it does appear as though they clean it occasionally. The locker rooms leave much to be desired — body consciousness is not a privilege you have there — but they are serviceable. There are actually seven (7) signs in the locker room reinforcing basic hygiene (wash your hands, wash your kids butt after diaper changes and before putting them in the pool, and – I kid not – do not let a kid with diarrhea swim).

Biking is still my favorite.

Swim Bike Run… more Bike, less Swim and Run?

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Today I went on a lovely figure-8 jaunt of Lake Union with Ms. Krieant that featured brunch at Dish. I could rave about Dish, and I should, given that a garden omelette with eggbeaters was clearly so awesome that I scarfed it in seconds (note: Dish does not take cards. I do not carry cash. The bar next door has a cash machine, and sells Bitburger. Ok that’s enough plug there.)

Biking is now my favorite of the three pieces of a tri. Running is to the state where I am having to tape, and whine, and I suspect new shoes will be purchased and ibuprofen and glucosamine will feature as regular items in my morning routine. Swimming is not hot either, what with the hair messiness of it all (I just got it did, okay?) Also, swimming isn’t nearly as social. If you think it is, I invite you to go swimming laps with a friend and carry on a conversation. And I don’t think you can bring your tunes with you.

I am realizing though how much better a day is with *some* form of exercise. It’s better than coffee… (yes, I really did just say that).

Inanity, or Insanity?

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Insanity is defined as doing something over and over the same way and same time and expecting a different outcome.

I run, my left knee and foot hurt. I stop, I walk. I run again, my left knee and foot hurt. I wait a couple of days, I run, my left knee and foot hurt.

I have toyed with the idea of new shoes, going back to physical therapy, walking the end of the tri, etc. I’m still not sure what I’m going to do. I can’t not do events of some sort, because it is what keeps me (barely) honest when it comes to regular exercise.

It’s a pretty problem.

Glub Glub

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Very little in my life is safe from the rationalization that an Excel spreadsheet offers. Within rows and columns, little formulas and “if” statements valiantly try to take the somewhat-partial data I have and render a decision for me. The spreadsheets are rarely seen by anyone other than myself, as it would be akin to airing my entire thought process — even those thoughts that you don’t tell anyone you have but you actually have. I have a coefficient for budget splurges based on average monthly temperature, for example.

The spreadsheet has had me purchase a triathlon wetsuit. I’m totally blaming the spreadsheet.

Renting a triathlon wetsuit is $40 for a six-day span (Thurs-Tues). Purchasing a decent one is about $160. I have 6  weekends of swimming ahead of me, and more if I end up doing the Black Diamond. $240 being patently more money than $160, I caved.

Would that it were that easy to get back in the water again. Swimming laps in a pool is a semi-boring chore that offers at least the diversion of the occasional mouthful of chlorinated water. Swimming in the open water means that occasional mouthful is of something that is almost, but not quite, entirely unlike water. There are *things* floating in there. It doesn’t taste good. 

The thing is,  having done a tri before, I’m shirking more than I ought. Even though my first few runs have been at a pathetic pace, I’m still in the “oh three miles no big deal it’s not like I have to actually *train* or anything” mindset, and this is naturally extending to my lack of workouts (only 2 in the last 4 days) and thusly the scale making noises at me.

I need to build a spreadsheet for that, I think.

Fitness in the Hairdryer

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In Phoenix, Monsoon season begins in mid July, which means we’re just before it. This also means winds. Winds, in 110 degree heat. It’s like living in a hairdryer.

Living in the hairdryer isn’t all that bad, in and of that you actually spend the hottest part of the day indoors in lovely ubiquitous air conditioning. You slather yourself with spf 1000, wear sunglasses and hats, wear loose cotton clothing, and learn to accept that tile is in fact a good floor covering. Phoenix is the exact opposite of where I live: dry and hot means no wood floors, no pine trees and ferns, my hair BEHAVES, my skin BEHAVES, and buildings are low and long. I wouldn’t retire here but am glad to have a second Casa Conti to go to.

Working out in the hairdryer, however, is a whole other kettle of fish (or terra cotta pot of lizards, I guess). Yesterday I got up at 6:30AM to run — because by 7am it’s too late. I ran a mere mile, and I did it at more of a “jogging” pace (we’re at 1,700 feet here and my parents have somehow managed to purchase a home in an area full of mild uphill grade cul-de-sacs), but imagine running face first into a hairdryer. It was great in and of that I didn’t perspire, water wicks away near-instantly. However, breathing in hot air while running uphill? Not so much. I plan to get up at 6am tomorrow in hopes of a 5-degree difference.

Swimming in the hairdryer is also interesting. My parents have a pool that is about 30′ long and I swam very small laps this morning with a small child wanting to occasionally be tossed about in the water. So it would be swim swim swim pause throw child swim swim swim pause throw child swim swim. After 40 minutes of this you get out of the pool and are COLD because somehow the 80 degree pool water in a 95 degree blowing heat evaporates and makes you cold, for the first five minutes.

And then you’re back in the hairdryer.

Back Anywhere But The Saddle Again

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Having just completed 160 miles on a bike I really am not sweating training for the 12 cycling miles of the Danskin. I *will* get on the bike, I just haven’t this week. I also haven’t run, or swam, this week either. This week I was very very very lazy, workout wise. This week was full of travel (coming back from Vancouver, to/from SF, and now to Phx), full of food (Mom’s house, a beer tasting, Chupacabra’s baby-size burritos, etc.), full of drinks (well, naturally), and full of work (which is fun).  That said, I will shortly (erm, 2 hours?) be in Phoenix, Arizona, and must correct all of this laziness.

It is 110 degrees F (43.3 degrees C) in Phoenix, Arizona. It’s a dry heat.

This means if I want to run (and I need to do it at least twice while there) I need to do it at 6am. If I want to swim (and I need to do it at least once while there) I need to do it in the early morning or late evening.  I have 4 days worth of regular clothes, workout clothes, miniature toiletries (this trip’s forgotten accoutrement? Hair goo), sunscreen (spf 50 for us pale types), and the last Harry Potter book all crammed into my carry on, and I’m optimistic that I can actually, you know, get a workout in on this trip.

Moving On

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I was going to have a whole series of little vignettes about the Ride — about the guys playing soccer at camp, about the awful food (but you’re so hungry you don’t care), about how they insisted I bring my own food and then I didn’t need it (or they didn’t have it), about the back pain and yet surprisingly no leg pain, about the endorphin rush and near-wall-hitting, about the simple pleasure a hot shower can bring at the end of a long day.

There really isn’t a place for all of that. None of those things translate well, and they were little events that were part of a much larger event; in short, you don’t care, and I’m not sure how much I’ll remember or what weight I’ll put to it in future. If something strikes me as particularly funny or poignant, then I may. But right now, nothing comes to mind: it was a good ride, I want to do it again, and that’s about it.

I haven’t been on a bike in three days, nor have I done any real exercise beyond some brisk San Franciscan walking. I have a triathlon in seven weeks, though, and I need to start training for that.  So if you’re up to listening to me blather about swimming (and possibly a swim coach), biking (hah! what’s 12 miles?!), and running (let’s hope the knee doesn’t die) then tune in.

Otherwise, move along, nothing to see here 🙂

PS — very glad I didn’t do my planned run in SFO today. They are not kidding about the cold fog early in the morning, and I foolishly packed shorts and a tank top.