Well, I'm halfway there. And oddly enough, this post wasn't graced with a Bon Jovi title. I may have just lost my Geneseo alumni badge with that one. Oops.
After last weeks karmic b*tch slap, I'm happy to say that this week calmed down somewhat in terms of life. Work is absolutely nuts, but thankfully the powers that be have actually been letting me do my job, which is both exhausting and exhilarating. We managed to healthify up the house by the end of the week, thank god. And the somewhat sophomoric drama I got involved with in my inner circle....well I walked away from that. At times I do remember that I'm a grown ass adult (ok, I know. I went too far).
While my personal life seemed to chill the f*ck out, my training seemed to take a nosedive. Figures. I have realized that I run my best when I'm riled up....angry, exuberant, miserable....any intense feeling manifests itsef into a terrific run. The status quo? Not so much. Before I get all introspective (its a damn mess in there, no one wants that), I also could chalk it up to the midway point of training. I'm 8 weeks in to a 16 week plan - its time for those niggles, self doubt, and the lack of scary beginnings but no real clarity for the end goal in sight. It doesn't help that my "pacer" that wanted to help me PR backed out of the race - she has a new job in NYC and can't train enough to do the race. While travelling solo to a marathon and sherpa'ing myself is really no big deal, it was somewhat of a let down after the last two months of thinking we were doing this together to know that I'm flying solo. So right now I'm systematically plotting to kidnap someone in my vicinity to race this sucker with me...or do the the half....or drive my sorry ass home... who I think might be dumb enough to fall for my shenanigans. Watch out, it might be you.
In spite of myself, my step back week wasn't too bad.
Week 8 Mileage:
43 running
3.5 swimming
20 biking
I had a few niggles toward the end of the week in my ankle, which I'm keeping an eye on. My weekday runs felt kind of flat - while I hit my paces, my garmin flashed the "unproductive" status for training effort, which to me, is basically a damn accusatory monkey in the corner, judging me on every move I make. Since I'm not that bright, I grudgingly cut down a few workouts, stretched more, and ate more chocolate to console myself.
On the bright side, my "long run" of 10 miles felt super easy, and I rewarded my post run high by whipping out my credit card and making some very important purchases pre race. A hotel to stay at (good call, Rae - cars are not that great of an idea). A new pair of sneaks. A hot pink running visor. A hot pink sports bra with a butterfly skull (I'm such a bad ass). And just for shits and giggles, a new tri team.
I've been doing quite a bit of swimming and running with members of the Grim Reapers Fitness Northeast (GRFNE) and they seem, for the most part, to be pretty awesome guys. Somehow, I was under the impression that these fast as hell dudes were, in fact, a male club made of men who just liked hot pink. When my fellow exercisers called me a dumb ass corrected me on my wrong assumption, I happily signed up for sarcasm, happy hours, and workouts with fast people that scare the shit out of me super fun people. While I've only met seven or eight of them, I'm pretty confident this was the right choice and that 2019 is gonna be a blast. Plus their kit is hot pink. And while I have no idea why that's my tri color (oh wait yes I do) the cool kit cinched the deal.
I'm gonna pretend that I can get away with buying the singlet for now to run a marathon in. I'll deal with the fact that in order to be part of this tri team they might in fact expect me to ride a bike at some point this year.
Ahh, my poor bike, who continues to stare at me as from a corner as I pump out speed workouts on the treadmill, silently and consistently reminding me that one day, I will learn to ride her without fear. I've started checking out books online such as "Riding for Dummies", and "You've done 3 ironmans, you moron, perhaps you should learn to not be afraid to ride your damned bike?" I'm considering buying the latter.
Until then, I might need to add this to my workout inspo wall to remind me to live my best life, even if it means conquering the two wheeled beast:
"We don't beat the Grim Reaper by living longer, we beat the Reaper by living well and living fully, for the Reaper will come for all of us. The question is what do we do between the time we are born and the time he shows up. It's too late to do all the tings that you're gonna kinda get around to".
-Randy Pausch (His book was epic. Totally recommend)
2019 is the year. THE year. To fly in the face of fear and make a leap. Even if it results in failure, it's better to have gone for it then to always wonder "what if". I refuse to make this the year of wondering what might have been. Who's with me? (No, seriously. Anyone want to do a road trip to Rhode Island with me in April?? I have crappy 80s music and an extra bed!)
After last weeks karmic b*tch slap, I'm happy to say that this week calmed down somewhat in terms of life. Work is absolutely nuts, but thankfully the powers that be have actually been letting me do my job, which is both exhausting and exhilarating. We managed to healthify up the house by the end of the week, thank god. And the somewhat sophomoric drama I got involved with in my inner circle....well I walked away from that. At times I do remember that I'm a grown ass adult (ok, I know. I went too far).
While my personal life seemed to chill the f*ck out, my training seemed to take a nosedive. Figures. I have realized that I run my best when I'm riled up....angry, exuberant, miserable....any intense feeling manifests itsef into a terrific run. The status quo? Not so much. Before I get all introspective (its a damn mess in there, no one wants that), I also could chalk it up to the midway point of training. I'm 8 weeks in to a 16 week plan - its time for those niggles, self doubt, and the lack of scary beginnings but no real clarity for the end goal in sight. It doesn't help that my "pacer" that wanted to help me PR backed out of the race - she has a new job in NYC and can't train enough to do the race. While travelling solo to a marathon and sherpa'ing myself is really no big deal, it was somewhat of a let down after the last two months of thinking we were doing this together to know that I'm flying solo. So right now I'm systematically plotting to kidnap someone in my vicinity to race this sucker with me...or do the the half....or drive my sorry ass home... who I think might be dumb enough to fall for my shenanigans. Watch out, it might be you.
In spite of myself, my step back week wasn't too bad.
Week 8 Mileage:
43 running
3.5 swimming
20 biking
I had a few niggles toward the end of the week in my ankle, which I'm keeping an eye on. My weekday runs felt kind of flat - while I hit my paces, my garmin flashed the "unproductive" status for training effort, which to me, is basically a damn accusatory monkey in the corner, judging me on every move I make. Since I'm not that bright, I grudgingly cut down a few workouts, stretched more, and ate more chocolate to console myself.
On the bright side, my "long run" of 10 miles felt super easy, and I rewarded my post run high by whipping out my credit card and making some very important purchases pre race. A hotel to stay at (good call, Rae - cars are not that great of an idea). A new pair of sneaks. A hot pink running visor. A hot pink sports bra with a butterfly skull (I'm such a bad ass). And just for shits and giggles, a new tri team.
I've been doing quite a bit of swimming and running with members of the Grim Reapers Fitness Northeast (GRFNE) and they seem, for the most part, to be pretty awesome guys. Somehow, I was under the impression that these fast as hell dudes were, in fact, a male club made of men who just liked hot pink. When my fellow exercisers I'm gonna pretend that I can get away with buying the singlet for now to run a marathon in. I'll deal with the fact that in order to be part of this tri team they might in fact expect me to ride a bike at some point this year.
Ahh, my poor bike, who continues to stare at me as from a corner as I pump out speed workouts on the treadmill, silently and consistently reminding me that one day, I will learn to ride her without fear. I've started checking out books online such as "Riding for Dummies", and "You've done 3 ironmans, you moron, perhaps you should learn to not be afraid to ride your damned bike?" I'm considering buying the latter.
Until then, I might need to add this to my workout inspo wall to remind me to live my best life, even if it means conquering the two wheeled beast:
"We don't beat the Grim Reaper by living longer, we beat the Reaper by living well and living fully, for the Reaper will come for all of us. The question is what do we do between the time we are born and the time he shows up. It's too late to do all the tings that you're gonna kinda get around to".
-Randy Pausch (His book was epic. Totally recommend)
2019 is the year. THE year. To fly in the face of fear and make a leap. Even if it results in failure, it's better to have gone for it then to always wonder "what if". I refuse to make this the year of wondering what might have been. Who's with me? (No, seriously. Anyone want to do a road trip to Rhode Island with me in April?? I have crappy 80s music and an extra bed!)
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