Distance: 800 meters
Pace: Stately
Wine consumed: None.
I never, ever thought I'd say I miss running. I would have thought if I couldn't run any more, I'd think, finally, I have a good excuse not to run. I'd say, "Oh yeah, I ran a marathon once. Now, I can't run anymore so don't ask me." I'd join the ranks of former runners with their blown out knees and busted hips.
Turns out, I don't want to go gentle into that good night. I miss it. And I can't eat like I want to when I'm not running. I even had to turn my back on--you should be sitting down for this--wine.
I know. I KNOW. This is a serious situation.
The solution is obvious. Are you not training for a soon-to-be-selected triathlon, Slo Jo? Are there not other things you might practice, like, I don't know, SWIMMING?
Yes, yes, yes. And I agree, so I went swimming on Sunday, which seems to be the one cardio activity I can still do with my sprained foot. The Y has a 25-meter pool that is, thankfully, usually pretty empty. I'm already used to being a slow runner, but I don't need to get passed by every other person in the pool when I'm focusing on surviving. Coach has given me a ladder program to try: 4x50s, 2x100s, 1x200, then back down. He says I'm not allowed to hold onto the wall during the set--that is, complete your 50 and THEN you get to hold on to the wall. Okay, off we go.
Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe. I remember this from swim team, age 10.
Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe. Kind of harder to breathe on the left. Weird. Sort of like I have trouble turning right when I'm skiing. I'm totally Zoolander.
Stroke, stroke, stroke, inhale some water. How come no one else in the pool needs to take a break mid-lap to cough? At least I'm giving the lifeguard something to look at.
The 4x50s are absolutely no problem. The 2x100s are more challenging. I decide I am not quite ready for a 200 with no wall hang time--me and the wall are like *this*, I love the wall--and skip that part of the ladder. I seem to get within 10 meters of finishing a set and need to have a little choke break. This swimming thing is a sinus-clearer-outer.
Two more 100s. My swim cap seems to be sliding off the back of my head. I try to adjust it and knock my goggles off. I bet Missy Franklin does not have these problems.
Four more 50s and done. It took about half an hour to swim 800 meters. I suspect that is not very good. But anyway, the best part about the Y pool is the hot tub for post swim relaxing. I love it. Sometimes there is an old man in it, which is disconcerting, but usually it is all mine. There's no hot tub waiting for me in running ever! I'm getting on board with this swimming thing.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Monday, July 7, 2014
Slo Jo: Slo Jo Takes a Hike
Distance run: about 8 miles, two runs
Distance hiked: 2.4 miles
Distance fell on way to dramatic entry into river: maybe three or four feet
Triathlon training has begun. I swam in a pool and, like TST, did not drown. The nice thing about swimming is that the boredom is alleviated by the occasional mouthful of water and a coughing fit, which livens things right up. Trying to breathe and not drown will definitely take your mind right off your boredom.
I had a busy week before the Fourth, and basically did nothing but work, but then some friends and I went to Sedona for the Fourth of July weekend. For two mornings in a row, I got up early and ran about 45 minutes. I was so darned pleased with myself, because I hadn't been motivated to run at all before that. I told my friends, "I bet I'd be in killer shape if Phoenix were not the surface of the sun." I felt like my distance running muscles were back. I could have run 90 minutes. 120 minutes.
It helped with my feeling of "could run forever" that the return part of the run was downhill. On day two, I struggled up an endless hill for about 30 minutes before deciding to turn around. I reversed my route and made it back to the house in ten. How was that even possible?! I decided it was definitely a shorter distance on the way back.
After day two's run, I was feeling like Slo Jo Got Her Groove Back, and enthusiastically joined the group for a hike. We drove out to Sycamore Creek in two cars, one marginally suited for the bumpy dirt road (M's SUV) and one born for it (Pixie's minivan). Okay, so the minivan wasn't actually born to be off-road. My friend S. and I were catching air in the backseat from the bumps. He said, "It's like a roller-coaster!"
We hiked 1.2 miles along the Verde River, and then found the spot where a natural spring feeds into the river. Everyone took off their shoes and waded into the spring. I hesitated, then told myself to stop being lame and took off my shoes. After all, it was hot, and the spring would feel good. At the last second, I looked at everyone's phones tucked into their shoes and took mine out, too. I supposed I might get splashed or something.
There was a steep muddy slope to get into the spring. M, who is far more experienced outdoors than I am (like nearly everyone on the planet), was behind me and said to me, "Do you need a hand?"
I said, "I'm good." I placed my bare foot carefully on the slope, shifted my weight onto it, and shot into space for a brief, glorious moment before I came crashing down into water, mud, and rocks.
Well, that hurt.
I landed on my right side in the shallow water, scraping my knee, banging my hip, and wrenching my foot. I got up, noticing I had mud all over myself, and hobbled over to sit on a rock in the water to try to launder my shorts. My knee started to swell around the scrape. My foot was very painful but I figured it would get better if I kept it in the cool water.
It did not get better. I hobbled back out of the spring and only made it back up the slope with F's help. Then we had to hike out, even though I couldn't put any weight on my foot except on the heel and big toe. I got my shoes on and started gimping along. I yelled out, "This wouldn't faze TST!" and everyone laughed. She'd probably have run back to the car just to say "eff you" to her foot.
S., proclaiming "no buddy left behind," stayed with me for the slow limp back to the car. I wanted to complain but thought of something I had heard once. People want things to be hard so they can say, "Look what I did! I hiked with a broken foot! It was excruciating!" and have all this drama and have people marvel at how you conquered something difficult. Or you can just say, "This is easy," and have no drama and be at peace with yourself. So I said mentally, "This is easy," and frankly, that did make it easier. No drama, no upset, just some limping. I did note that, unlike my run, the hike BACK to the car was far longer than the hike from the car. And occasionally I said a bad word when I stepped on something wrong and wrenched my foot again.
When I still couldn't walk the next day, I went to urgent care for an x-ray. Fortunately, I just have a sprained foot and nothing is broken. Broken sounds a lot more dramatic, but I'm not going for drama, I'm going for easy. Sprained means it will heal more quickly and I'll be back to training more quickly. I am supposed to rest it for two weeks, but I can still swim or bike after a few days of icing. And I get to wear this cool shoe:
The doctor tried to put me in a boot, but the physician's assistant (who also, when I told him my weight, said, "Really? I would have guessed [20 pounds less]." Best PA Ever Award coming your way, sir) talked her into the shoe instead, asking if she wanted to kill me in the summer heat. So the shoe it is. I always did like getting new shoe.
Distance hiked: 2.4 miles
Distance fell on way to dramatic entry into river: maybe three or four feet
Triathlon training has begun. I swam in a pool and, like TST, did not drown. The nice thing about swimming is that the boredom is alleviated by the occasional mouthful of water and a coughing fit, which livens things right up. Trying to breathe and not drown will definitely take your mind right off your boredom.
I had a busy week before the Fourth, and basically did nothing but work, but then some friends and I went to Sedona for the Fourth of July weekend. For two mornings in a row, I got up early and ran about 45 minutes. I was so darned pleased with myself, because I hadn't been motivated to run at all before that. I told my friends, "I bet I'd be in killer shape if Phoenix were not the surface of the sun." I felt like my distance running muscles were back. I could have run 90 minutes. 120 minutes.
It helped with my feeling of "could run forever" that the return part of the run was downhill. On day two, I struggled up an endless hill for about 30 minutes before deciding to turn around. I reversed my route and made it back to the house in ten. How was that even possible?! I decided it was definitely a shorter distance on the way back.
(View from run. Yes, my finger in the frame is intentional. It, um, adds perspective.)
After day two's run, I was feeling like Slo Jo Got Her Groove Back, and enthusiastically joined the group for a hike. We drove out to Sycamore Creek in two cars, one marginally suited for the bumpy dirt road (M's SUV) and one born for it (Pixie's minivan). Okay, so the minivan wasn't actually born to be off-road. My friend S. and I were catching air in the backseat from the bumps. He said, "It's like a roller-coaster!"
We hiked 1.2 miles along the Verde River, and then found the spot where a natural spring feeds into the river. Everyone took off their shoes and waded into the spring. I hesitated, then told myself to stop being lame and took off my shoes. After all, it was hot, and the spring would feel good. At the last second, I looked at everyone's phones tucked into their shoes and took mine out, too. I supposed I might get splashed or something.
There was a steep muddy slope to get into the spring. M, who is far more experienced outdoors than I am (like nearly everyone on the planet), was behind me and said to me, "Do you need a hand?"
I said, "I'm good." I placed my bare foot carefully on the slope, shifted my weight onto it, and shot into space for a brief, glorious moment before I came crashing down into water, mud, and rocks.
Well, that hurt.
I landed on my right side in the shallow water, scraping my knee, banging my hip, and wrenching my foot. I got up, noticing I had mud all over myself, and hobbled over to sit on a rock in the water to try to launder my shorts. My knee started to swell around the scrape. My foot was very painful but I figured it would get better if I kept it in the cool water.
It did not get better. I hobbled back out of the spring and only made it back up the slope with F's help. Then we had to hike out, even though I couldn't put any weight on my foot except on the heel and big toe. I got my shoes on and started gimping along. I yelled out, "This wouldn't faze TST!" and everyone laughed. She'd probably have run back to the car just to say "eff you" to her foot.
S., proclaiming "no buddy left behind," stayed with me for the slow limp back to the car. I wanted to complain but thought of something I had heard once. People want things to be hard so they can say, "Look what I did! I hiked with a broken foot! It was excruciating!" and have all this drama and have people marvel at how you conquered something difficult. Or you can just say, "This is easy," and have no drama and be at peace with yourself. So I said mentally, "This is easy," and frankly, that did make it easier. No drama, no upset, just some limping. I did note that, unlike my run, the hike BACK to the car was far longer than the hike from the car. And occasionally I said a bad word when I stepped on something wrong and wrenched my foot again.
When I still couldn't walk the next day, I went to urgent care for an x-ray. Fortunately, I just have a sprained foot and nothing is broken. Broken sounds a lot more dramatic, but I'm not going for drama, I'm going for easy. Sprained means it will heal more quickly and I'll be back to training more quickly. I am supposed to rest it for two weeks, but I can still swim or bike after a few days of icing. And I get to wear this cool shoe:
(Maybe it only comes in one size?)
The doctor tried to put me in a boot, but the physician's assistant (who also, when I told him my weight, said, "Really? I would have guessed [20 pounds less]." Best PA Ever Award coming your way, sir) talked her into the shoe instead, asking if she wanted to kill me in the summer heat. So the shoe it is. I always did like getting new shoe.
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