I just won an entry to TriRock San Diego. Which is a highly overpriced [sprint] triathlon that I never would have registered for using my own moolah. My dilemma is that I am back at square 1, no, not even 1, try 0, when it comes to my fitness. I have until Sept. 11 to regain some form of endurance to make it through the Sprint. If I could see the course elevation and knew that the bike was flat, I might even venture to challenge myself to the Oly. Since I've been volunteering for KOZ, I could race Solana Beach and Surf Town Tri before then. I have to be honest though, I think for my first foray back into triathlon, I want a bay start versus a surf start. I don't want to worry about that for now.
I've already spoken to a friend about this plan. So it's out there in the Universe, so it has to come to fruition, right?! [See previous blog]
1. Ride the trainer to get my cycling legs back. I could say that I would go to spin class, but I know that would be a lie. I really hate having to get there an hour early to get a spot and I'm such an uncoordinated weakling that I look ridiculous trying to move the stationary out onto the floor and then back against the wall after class. It really sucks that they have that stupid lip you have to get it over. Yes, I could go to Tomas' awesome spin class at HiTech Bikes, but I really don't have a way to get my bike and trainer there. The cheap bike rack I "borrowed" from Jen is not very secure and I haven't resigned myself to shell out the bucks for a good bike rack for the Miata.
2. Go backwards and remove the clipless pedals and use the cages until I actually have some handling skills. If I didn't have to ride in traffic or start or stop or make sharp turns, I would love riding with clipless pedals. I still fall with the cages and I've fallen bad enough in them to go to Urgent Care, but I have the teeniest bit more confidence with cages over the clipless pedals. Either way, right now my anxiety is so high that even when I just think about riding on the street, my heart starts racing. So have fun passing me on Fiesta Island.
3. Get back in the water despite the fact that I might be mistaken for a manatee, living so close to Sea World. It will probably be the pool for a while until the ocean is warm enough to swim on the skins team since I can't fit in the wetsuit uniform. There are these two guys who swim in my apt pool who train for Ironman. I think they feel sorry for me, because they usually get out of the pool when I get in. It's pretty pathetic.
4. No brainer, run. Maybe I'll try to get my runs in at lunch or even before work. When I lived alone, I was able to get up and run in the dark of the morning. It's harder when you have two snugglers in bed with you. Lunch is probably more likely. I feel my knitting mania fading again. Honk if you see me "running" up Montezuma. :D But never honk if you see me on a bike, danger danger! : /
So my plan is very simple; no charts or algorithms, no unrealistic schedule, no mileage or hourly requirements, no fancy gear, no compensating for reoccurring injuries, and no depending on peer pressure. Just a girl, her bike, her dinky pool, and her black toed feet. For now...
Friday, June 17, 2011
The Future's So Bright
I love to plan things. I love the anticipation of the next event. I'm always in this state of expectation. It almost feels like the high you get from meeting a new guy and planning the first date. There are so many details to fixate on until the date.
I always think my plans are a good idea. I get really excited and I start pulling others into my grand schemes. Ahi calls me his little social director. But in reality, most of the time when the day and time arrives, I just don't feel like doing anything. It's like I used up all my energy planning well in advance and then it's like I've already virtually experienced it and the reality no longer holds any appeal.
I love to make lists. So I will create all these lists: scratch paper, journals, refrigerator note pads, white boards, gmail tasks, notes and stickies on my iphone/ipad, e-mail, etc. Yes there is an etc. to my list making! I would say that 90% of the time I only complete 1 line item from any list. As long as Michael's keeps printing cute cheap refrigerator note pads, I'll keep writing meaningless and fruitless lists.
I used to have this philosophy that if I wrote my plans down or even told others about them, that they were out there in the universe and they were bound to come true. Unfortunately the universe does allow take backs.
I was trying to counsel someone else about their negativity and how it has stood in their way professionally. Suggesting that perhaps there is a way that they could reword their ideas in a more positive manner without losing their integrity. His response was that it was just who he was and he was aware, but probably wouldn't change. It reminded me how I am often extremely self aware of my faults or short comings, but self awareness is not a cure.
I don't think that I will ever stop planning. I actually think that my overplanning is a symptom of my procrastination affliction. Living in the future not in the now. But that's a whole nother blog, which I will write...someday. ["Someday is not a day of the week." -unknown]
I always think my plans are a good idea. I get really excited and I start pulling others into my grand schemes. Ahi calls me his little social director. But in reality, most of the time when the day and time arrives, I just don't feel like doing anything. It's like I used up all my energy planning well in advance and then it's like I've already virtually experienced it and the reality no longer holds any appeal.
I love to make lists. So I will create all these lists: scratch paper, journals, refrigerator note pads, white boards, gmail tasks, notes and stickies on my iphone/ipad, e-mail, etc. Yes there is an etc. to my list making! I would say that 90% of the time I only complete 1 line item from any list. As long as Michael's keeps printing cute cheap refrigerator note pads, I'll keep writing meaningless and fruitless lists.
I used to have this philosophy that if I wrote my plans down or even told others about them, that they were out there in the universe and they were bound to come true. Unfortunately the universe does allow take backs.
I was trying to counsel someone else about their negativity and how it has stood in their way professionally. Suggesting that perhaps there is a way that they could reword their ideas in a more positive manner without losing their integrity. His response was that it was just who he was and he was aware, but probably wouldn't change. It reminded me how I am often extremely self aware of my faults or short comings, but self awareness is not a cure.
I don't think that I will ever stop planning. I actually think that my overplanning is a symptom of my procrastination affliction. Living in the future not in the now. But that's a whole nother blog, which I will write...someday. ["Someday is not a day of the week." -unknown]
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
I never thought I would be a screamer
Whenever I am watching a horror film and a woman is screaming while being chased by some maniac, not to cast aspersions on bipolar i.e. manic depressives since the patients I used to see when I worked at Scripps Clinic Dept. of Psychiatry would sooner buy a Jaguar during a manic state than kill someone, but maybe those were mild cases or rich bipolars don't kill, have you ever noticed how serial killers are always portrayed as lower middle class or poorer, rarely affluent? Even in American Psycho, um SPOILER ALERT in case you still haven't seen it, he didn't even end up being a serial killer.
Back to the woman screaming (who's the manic one now?!), or she'll scream when someone jumps out at her, I always think to myself that I probably wouldn't scream. When I get slightly scared by something I usually mutter, "Crap!" If truly horrified, I might cry or whimper, but a scream would get caught in my throat. I think I have this perception due to life experiences where I've bitten back the pain and fear, quietly.
This morning I was in the shower and I let out a what some would consider a B-movie actress scream, if not better. I have been told I have a movie-worthy scream as evidenced in this video (1:30) from my honeymoon. This was not a 'I dropped the shampoo bottle on my toe' yell or a 'spider in the shower' scream, which I don't do. Ahi even ran in to check on me, which is highly irregular since he never hears me yell for him when I'm in the shower despite the dinkiness of our apt. This is what I told him:
"I was thinking about last night, when you left me to go to my car. [joking objection] There was this guy walking behind me and he was real shady. There was a truck next to my car, so I couldn't see where he went. When I got in my car, I locked it and as I was backing up, there he was, on the other side of the truck, just looking at me. [Like the guy from the movie. Ahi makes slasher motions and sounds] Then your stupid cat jumped all the way up on the towel bar and scared me!"
Here's some background as to why such a trusting, overly trusting even, soul as myself would get paranoid about some guy walking behind me in a moderately lit and full parking lot at 10p.m. Last night we watched a sneak preview of I Saw the Devil. I found it amusing how San Diego Asian Film Foundation kept sending warning e-mails about the violent, graphic, and gruesome nature of the film. It was even more amusing when we get to the Landmark and per usual there were a lot of old people. Let me tell you, old people are almost as bad as small children in a movie. They talk, they are cranky, they smell, they cough incessantly, and did I mention they smell? I didn't complain that they eat their popcorn loudly because I am guilty of that same crime.
Oh and speaking of movie theater offenses, my phone went off when I got a text, so it wasn't like a full on ring, but still embarrassing. I want to know why the iPhone doesn't turn off. I turned it off at the top, but it still came on. Another thing, my fat face always hits the mute button, I wish I could move those buttons around. Yes, I know I can switch over to the keypad, but why do I want to say, "hold on, I have to switch over to the keypad, so my fat face doesn't mute me." And that's really what I say when I do it. I didn't think there was a true silent mode, but I just think I figured out that the top button above the ringer volume is the silent mode. I always thought it was a lock button so you don't accidentally butt dial. Basically, I use my iPhone to text, occasionally check e-mail, use apps, and go online. I hate using it as a "phone."
So this movie was about a serial killer and the limits of revenge. It was really gruesome, in a good way. Basically, as with most serial killer movies, unsuspecting females along the side of the road get taken for a ride and the end is their end. Choi Min-Sik excels at playing the psychopath in this film. Previouly he was good at playing bad even when playing the hero in Old Boy. I loved how Lee Byung-hun rocked a leather hoodie the whole movie. There were a couple of excellent cinematographic transitions and the score was paced well. I always enjoy the fluid way Korean movies can metamorphose from delicate almost fairy tale notes to the heavy handed tracks of suspense sequences, often marking the change as if taking us through the day, from light to dark.
After the movie, we were at Rubio's and a female quartet of obvious Comic Con devotees sat at the table next to us. Speaking of Comic con, we still haven't bought our tix and of course Solana Beach Tri falls on the same weekend again, which we are volunteering for on Saturday, when all the good panels are usually scheduled. Anyway, they were talking about the film. One girl said that she was now even more paranoid about her car breaking down. Her friend retorted that she didn't have to worry they weren't in Korea. I didn't know if she was being ironic or if she was really that stupid. Girls are getting attacked at SDSU on an alarmingly regular basis lately, and I'm not talking drunken frat/sorority party date rape. My coworker keeps warning me since I often stay as late as 8pm. OK, no, these local incidents are probably not examples of serial killers in their infancy, but there is definitely danger in America. And even though I realize this on a practical level, on a Samaritan level my first instinct is to think about stopping to help.
I often see kids (cuz I'm so old now) going to the bus stop in front of our apt on their way to State and if it's a girl I'll ask if she wants a ride, if it's a guy, I do think about asking, but usually check myself. Even as a little girl, I've always wanted to help strangers. I remember when I was probably 5 or 6 years old and there was a man looking under the hood of his car at my apt, I was probably on my way to my bus stop and I asked him if he needed help and that my Grandpa was a mechanic. I know I was being a precocious little kid and his would not be a good ploy to kidnap a child, but I was so trusting. Maybe it was the time, the era and the time in my life. But even after horrible things happened to me that would make most people trust no one, I've remained open. Maybe when I lost trust in family, those close to me, I had nothing else but the world to believe in.
Even with all the horror films and crime shows I watch, I still don't see killers in people. It's only after the encounter that I rethink my judgment. I'd like to think God is watching out for me or that He has given me the gift of sensing character. I couldn't choose the people who hurt me in my past, but everyone I've garnered willingly and lovingly throughout my life have proven to be worthy.
Maybe the girl meant that her friend wasn't Korean, so she didn't have to worry. Not to be mean, but these girls shared nothing in common with the willowy victims other than paleness of skin, but not the clarity. But they did get me thinking and walking to my car alone in the dark was not the thing I wanted to do after that. I'm also the girl that would fret about the other person, even a man, walking to their car after they walked me to mine. Had I been with a girlfriend, being as protective as I am, we probably would have walked to my car and I would have driven her to hers.
I am in no way chastising Ahi. It actually surprised me since he normally would walk me to my car. Maybe he thought that since his car was only one lot over that it would not be a big deal. And normally this would probably be true. Even if it had been another type of horror film like House of 1000 Corpses, which is one horror film that actually upset me while watching it, but only because it was unrelenting and the ending, which I wont to give away in case you haven't seen it. I don't think of the murderers in movies like 1000 Corpses and Texas Chainsaw Massacre as serial killers, but I guess due to the quantity they are. Those types of murders don't frighten me as much because I don't intend to go to some backwoods town, I won't even go to Idaho or Arkansas where my best friends live since they don't live in metropolitan areas. Essentially, their lunacy doesn't make sense. Logical insanity scares me more.
I shouldn't have joked so loudly that he was letting me walk to my car alone. When the guy started walking behind me and I saw Ahi's back retreating as I turned around to go my way, I tried to keep calm. I opened my trunk and the guy walked past me. I put my bags in my passenger seat and thought, "Crap, this is not what you are supposed to do, you are supposed to get in your car, lock your doors, and drive away, right away." Finally, I locked my door, which I hardly ever do because I'm irrationally afraid that if I get in an accident I won't be able to get free fast enough, which is partly unreasonable since I have a convertible. But then when I backed up and saw him on the other side of the truck, I froze for a second. Even though he was just standing there smoking, which I didn't tell Ahi, why ruin the suspense in my tale of the shower scream?, it was still ominous, the way (I imagined) he was looking at me.
Thinking about that and then having a cat unexpectedly slam into the shower door as he jumps up on the towel bar, gave me a screamable fright. So, now I know. If a man jumps out of the bushes, I will probably scream, and as I'm running from him, I might continue to scream. But the question is, will it be the senseless screaming from movies or will it have reason, I don't know, like yelling, "Help!"
Back to the woman screaming (who's the manic one now?!), or she'll scream when someone jumps out at her, I always think to myself that I probably wouldn't scream. When I get slightly scared by something I usually mutter, "Crap!" If truly horrified, I might cry or whimper, but a scream would get caught in my throat. I think I have this perception due to life experiences where I've bitten back the pain and fear, quietly.
This morning I was in the shower and I let out a what some would consider a B-movie actress scream, if not better. I have been told I have a movie-worthy scream as evidenced in this video (1:30) from my honeymoon. This was not a 'I dropped the shampoo bottle on my toe' yell or a 'spider in the shower' scream, which I don't do. Ahi even ran in to check on me, which is highly irregular since he never hears me yell for him when I'm in the shower despite the dinkiness of our apt. This is what I told him:
"I was thinking about last night, when you left me to go to my car. [joking objection] There was this guy walking behind me and he was real shady. There was a truck next to my car, so I couldn't see where he went. When I got in my car, I locked it and as I was backing up, there he was, on the other side of the truck, just looking at me. [Like the guy from the movie. Ahi makes slasher motions and sounds] Then your stupid cat jumped all the way up on the towel bar and scared me!"
Here's some background as to why such a trusting, overly trusting even, soul as myself would get paranoid about some guy walking behind me in a moderately lit and full parking lot at 10p.m. Last night we watched a sneak preview of I Saw the Devil. I found it amusing how San Diego Asian Film Foundation kept sending warning e-mails about the violent, graphic, and gruesome nature of the film. It was even more amusing when we get to the Landmark and per usual there were a lot of old people. Let me tell you, old people are almost as bad as small children in a movie. They talk, they are cranky, they smell, they cough incessantly, and did I mention they smell? I didn't complain that they eat their popcorn loudly because I am guilty of that same crime.
Oh and speaking of movie theater offenses, my phone went off when I got a text, so it wasn't like a full on ring, but still embarrassing. I want to know why the iPhone doesn't turn off. I turned it off at the top, but it still came on. Another thing, my fat face always hits the mute button, I wish I could move those buttons around. Yes, I know I can switch over to the keypad, but why do I want to say, "hold on, I have to switch over to the keypad, so my fat face doesn't mute me." And that's really what I say when I do it. I didn't think there was a true silent mode, but I just think I figured out that the top button above the ringer volume is the silent mode. I always thought it was a lock button so you don't accidentally butt dial. Basically, I use my iPhone to text, occasionally check e-mail, use apps, and go online. I hate using it as a "phone."
So this movie was about a serial killer and the limits of revenge. It was really gruesome, in a good way. Basically, as with most serial killer movies, unsuspecting females along the side of the road get taken for a ride and the end is their end. Choi Min-Sik excels at playing the psychopath in this film. Previouly he was good at playing bad even when playing the hero in Old Boy. I loved how Lee Byung-hun rocked a leather hoodie the whole movie. There were a couple of excellent cinematographic transitions and the score was paced well. I always enjoy the fluid way Korean movies can metamorphose from delicate almost fairy tale notes to the heavy handed tracks of suspense sequences, often marking the change as if taking us through the day, from light to dark.
After the movie, we were at Rubio's and a female quartet of obvious Comic Con devotees sat at the table next to us. Speaking of Comic con, we still haven't bought our tix and of course Solana Beach Tri falls on the same weekend again, which we are volunteering for on Saturday, when all the good panels are usually scheduled. Anyway, they were talking about the film. One girl said that she was now even more paranoid about her car breaking down. Her friend retorted that she didn't have to worry they weren't in Korea. I didn't know if she was being ironic or if she was really that stupid. Girls are getting attacked at SDSU on an alarmingly regular basis lately, and I'm not talking drunken frat/sorority party date rape. My coworker keeps warning me since I often stay as late as 8pm. OK, no, these local incidents are probably not examples of serial killers in their infancy, but there is definitely danger in America. And even though I realize this on a practical level, on a Samaritan level my first instinct is to think about stopping to help.
I often see kids (cuz I'm so old now) going to the bus stop in front of our apt on their way to State and if it's a girl I'll ask if she wants a ride, if it's a guy, I do think about asking, but usually check myself. Even as a little girl, I've always wanted to help strangers. I remember when I was probably 5 or 6 years old and there was a man looking under the hood of his car at my apt, I was probably on my way to my bus stop and I asked him if he needed help and that my Grandpa was a mechanic. I know I was being a precocious little kid and his would not be a good ploy to kidnap a child, but I was so trusting. Maybe it was the time, the era and the time in my life. But even after horrible things happened to me that would make most people trust no one, I've remained open. Maybe when I lost trust in family, those close to me, I had nothing else but the world to believe in.
Even with all the horror films and crime shows I watch, I still don't see killers in people. It's only after the encounter that I rethink my judgment. I'd like to think God is watching out for me or that He has given me the gift of sensing character. I couldn't choose the people who hurt me in my past, but everyone I've garnered willingly and lovingly throughout my life have proven to be worthy.
Maybe the girl meant that her friend wasn't Korean, so she didn't have to worry. Not to be mean, but these girls shared nothing in common with the willowy victims other than paleness of skin, but not the clarity. But they did get me thinking and walking to my car alone in the dark was not the thing I wanted to do after that. I'm also the girl that would fret about the other person, even a man, walking to their car after they walked me to mine. Had I been with a girlfriend, being as protective as I am, we probably would have walked to my car and I would have driven her to hers.
I am in no way chastising Ahi. It actually surprised me since he normally would walk me to my car. Maybe he thought that since his car was only one lot over that it would not be a big deal. And normally this would probably be true. Even if it had been another type of horror film like House of 1000 Corpses, which is one horror film that actually upset me while watching it, but only because it was unrelenting and the ending, which I wont to give away in case you haven't seen it. I don't think of the murderers in movies like 1000 Corpses and Texas Chainsaw Massacre as serial killers, but I guess due to the quantity they are. Those types of murders don't frighten me as much because I don't intend to go to some backwoods town, I won't even go to Idaho or Arkansas where my best friends live since they don't live in metropolitan areas. Essentially, their lunacy doesn't make sense. Logical insanity scares me more.
I shouldn't have joked so loudly that he was letting me walk to my car alone. When the guy started walking behind me and I saw Ahi's back retreating as I turned around to go my way, I tried to keep calm. I opened my trunk and the guy walked past me. I put my bags in my passenger seat and thought, "Crap, this is not what you are supposed to do, you are supposed to get in your car, lock your doors, and drive away, right away." Finally, I locked my door, which I hardly ever do because I'm irrationally afraid that if I get in an accident I won't be able to get free fast enough, which is partly unreasonable since I have a convertible. But then when I backed up and saw him on the other side of the truck, I froze for a second. Even though he was just standing there smoking, which I didn't tell Ahi, why ruin the suspense in my tale of the shower scream?, it was still ominous, the way (I imagined) he was looking at me.
Thinking about that and then having a cat unexpectedly slam into the shower door as he jumps up on the towel bar, gave me a screamable fright. So, now I know. If a man jumps out of the bushes, I will probably scream, and as I'm running from him, I might continue to scream. But the question is, will it be the senseless screaming from movies or will it have reason, I don't know, like yelling, "Help!"
Thursday, January 6, 2011
New meaning of Runner's High
I went for my first run of the new year.* I haven't run since the end of the summer. I never broke in my Newtons or custom orthotic insoles. I have been procrastinating lacing up. Every day I would tell myself that I would run the next day or on the weekend. But excuses kept piling up.
Today was the first day in a long time that I've left work at a reasonable hour. I was racing against the rain. When I got home, I found that Roady had craftily removed his cone. Immediately after greeting me, he plopped down and started licking his phantom testicles. I put the cone back on.
I changed into running gear; strapped on my Garmin and RoadID, etc. Even though it was chilly I wore shorts. Normally I would even wear a tank in the cold, but opted a for a long sleeve top with a pocket in the upper sleeve for my iPod. I guess I'm not getting as fussy about the needing the freedom of bare arms and legs.
As I walked out of my apartment, I started my Garmin Forerunner 205. Once I hit the bay, I started running. When I glanced at the watch, I noticed it kept auto pausing and the display kept flipping back and forth between modes. I kept trying to fiddle with it while running. I turned it off and back on and ended up just running with it in my hand.
After about three blocks, I felt some twinges of strain in my shins. But it worked itself out as my legs warmed up. I couldn't tell how fast I was going, but it felt slow. I didn't even attempt to apply any torque to my turnover, I just let each foot fall in its own time and place.
I met with the usual resistance on the boardwalk, weaving around human obstacles as if I were running the first two miles in a marathon. As I approached the Banana Bungalow I began to smell what I thought was skunk. As the smell intensified, I realized it would be one very green skunk. I've never liked the smell of pot. I used to think it smelled like sweat. I guessed it wouldn't matter since I'd end up smelling that way on my own.
I ran to the end of the boardwalk and turned around. I had fleeting thoughts of taking a walk break, but desperation didn't take me down. At PB Dr, I was trying to decide how much farther I wanted to run. Overall I felt good enough to make it to the Giant Dipper, but I started to have some foot pain. I decided that I would head home before I started racking up junk miles and risk injury first thing in the new year.
I felt relaxed and patiently navigated through tourists taking photos of the sunset. I even said "excuse me" instead of my usual irritated yell of "LEFT" as I passed oblivious people. I did get a little annoyed when a cyclist kept riding into me as he watched the sunset. It wasn't until I had to jump up onto the opposite curb that he realized what he was doing. I got to experience what it feels like to have circles run around me as this other runner's little dog kept running back and forth in front of me and back to her owner. I guess I shouldn't have passed her owner.
I am in awe of the beauty of my run. I was reminded again why I love where I live. I saw beauty in the rolling glass on the bay, an ocean blanketed in soft red clouds, and the camaraderie of fellow runners. I finished the run strong and didn't feel like I'd killed myself and had even passed some runners. When Ahi got home he said he didn't know how I could just go out and run 4 miles today after not having run in so long. I surprised myself too.
Knowing that my body has not forsaken me, I am extremely hopeful for this year's training. Hopefully I will learn from the mistakes I've made in the past. Hopefully blogging will keep me accountable for my actions and inaction. Hopefully I'll experience a real runner's high again instead of just a contact high.
*4.11 miles in 39 min; 9:29 pace
Today was the first day in a long time that I've left work at a reasonable hour. I was racing against the rain. When I got home, I found that Roady had craftily removed his cone. Immediately after greeting me, he plopped down and started licking his phantom testicles. I put the cone back on.
I changed into running gear; strapped on my Garmin and RoadID, etc. Even though it was chilly I wore shorts. Normally I would even wear a tank in the cold, but opted a for a long sleeve top with a pocket in the upper sleeve for my iPod. I guess I'm not getting as fussy about the needing the freedom of bare arms and legs.
As I walked out of my apartment, I started my Garmin Forerunner 205. Once I hit the bay, I started running. When I glanced at the watch, I noticed it kept auto pausing and the display kept flipping back and forth between modes. I kept trying to fiddle with it while running. I turned it off and back on and ended up just running with it in my hand.
After about three blocks, I felt some twinges of strain in my shins. But it worked itself out as my legs warmed up. I couldn't tell how fast I was going, but it felt slow. I didn't even attempt to apply any torque to my turnover, I just let each foot fall in its own time and place.
I met with the usual resistance on the boardwalk, weaving around human obstacles as if I were running the first two miles in a marathon. As I approached the Banana Bungalow I began to smell what I thought was skunk. As the smell intensified, I realized it would be one very green skunk. I've never liked the smell of pot. I used to think it smelled like sweat. I guessed it wouldn't matter since I'd end up smelling that way on my own.
I ran to the end of the boardwalk and turned around. I had fleeting thoughts of taking a walk break, but desperation didn't take me down. At PB Dr, I was trying to decide how much farther I wanted to run. Overall I felt good enough to make it to the Giant Dipper, but I started to have some foot pain. I decided that I would head home before I started racking up junk miles and risk injury first thing in the new year.
I felt relaxed and patiently navigated through tourists taking photos of the sunset. I even said "excuse me" instead of my usual irritated yell of "LEFT" as I passed oblivious people. I did get a little annoyed when a cyclist kept riding into me as he watched the sunset. It wasn't until I had to jump up onto the opposite curb that he realized what he was doing. I got to experience what it feels like to have circles run around me as this other runner's little dog kept running back and forth in front of me and back to her owner. I guess I shouldn't have passed her owner.
I am in awe of the beauty of my run. I was reminded again why I love where I live. I saw beauty in the rolling glass on the bay, an ocean blanketed in soft red clouds, and the camaraderie of fellow runners. I finished the run strong and didn't feel like I'd killed myself and had even passed some runners. When Ahi got home he said he didn't know how I could just go out and run 4 miles today after not having run in so long. I surprised myself too.
Knowing that my body has not forsaken me, I am extremely hopeful for this year's training. Hopefully I will learn from the mistakes I've made in the past. Hopefully blogging will keep me accountable for my actions and inaction. Hopefully I'll experience a real runner's high again instead of just a contact high.
*4.11 miles in 39 min; 9:29 pace
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Becoming Sensitive
The other night, I think it was Saturday night or rather Sunday morning at 1:53a.m. I awoke to running in the hallway. I heard a man cry out, "No, no, no!" It was not the playful sound of people rough housing or chasing one another in good spirits. The man sounded frantic, pleading. A couple of seconds later, the foot falls collided with a woman's scream. Then it was quiet.
The eerie part is that it was quiet. There had been no slamming door, which seems impossible since there are three doors leaving the hallway. If they did not exit the hallway, then there should have been an apartment door closing. The only thing I have not ruled out is the elevator.
I was relieved that the screams were not terminated by a gunshot. I listened intently. Silence engulfed me. I could not even hear the sound of Ahi or Roady breathing next to me.
I wondered if I should do something. What could I do? I couldn't call the police, I hadn't witnessed anything. I didn't dare poke my head out into the hallway lest I invite the melee into my home. The next day I went to pay rent and was too embarrassed to inquire if anyone else had complained about late night running and yelling on our floor, in our building. I did happen to catch my neighbor leaving his apartment and I asked if he had heard anything akin to the strangeness in my ears. Nothing. Could I really have just imagined those sounds outside my door?
There are times when I have out of place thoughts that have no bearing on my reality, yet they come to fruition decades later. I've dreamt about people and places that I would not know until years later. I will think about a person far removed from my life and the next day they will pop back into my life in some form or another. I'll often think about a friend and when I contact them, they were ill or in emotional distress. But most of the time when I have the clearest sense of deja vu, it is about mundane things. Dreams that when described sound utterly inconsequential and don't even bear mentioning. My violent dreams never come true, not in my own life at least.
I was so distressed about the sounds, that I could not get to sleep the next night. I stayed up until 1:53a.m. Perhaps I thought that my imagination would recreate the spectral noises. The only tumult I heard that night were the pounding of the rain and the howling of the wind wrapping around our building. And somewhat comfortingly, the ragged breathing of Ahi and Roady.
The eerie part is that it was quiet. There had been no slamming door, which seems impossible since there are three doors leaving the hallway. If they did not exit the hallway, then there should have been an apartment door closing. The only thing I have not ruled out is the elevator.
I was relieved that the screams were not terminated by a gunshot. I listened intently. Silence engulfed me. I could not even hear the sound of Ahi or Roady breathing next to me.
I wondered if I should do something. What could I do? I couldn't call the police, I hadn't witnessed anything. I didn't dare poke my head out into the hallway lest I invite the melee into my home. The next day I went to pay rent and was too embarrassed to inquire if anyone else had complained about late night running and yelling on our floor, in our building. I did happen to catch my neighbor leaving his apartment and I asked if he had heard anything akin to the strangeness in my ears. Nothing. Could I really have just imagined those sounds outside my door?
There are times when I have out of place thoughts that have no bearing on my reality, yet they come to fruition decades later. I've dreamt about people and places that I would not know until years later. I will think about a person far removed from my life and the next day they will pop back into my life in some form or another. I'll often think about a friend and when I contact them, they were ill or in emotional distress. But most of the time when I have the clearest sense of deja vu, it is about mundane things. Dreams that when described sound utterly inconsequential and don't even bear mentioning. My violent dreams never come true, not in my own life at least.
I was so distressed about the sounds, that I could not get to sleep the next night. I stayed up until 1:53a.m. Perhaps I thought that my imagination would recreate the spectral noises. The only tumult I heard that night were the pounding of the rain and the howling of the wind wrapping around our building. And somewhat comfortingly, the ragged breathing of Ahi and Roady.
Sit and Spin
So everyone is making New Year's Resolutions. I try not to. But I can't escape making a list of goals in my head. One of them is to get back to blogging. I even started a new blog. Due to it's content, I may keep it private. It is dirty but not in the gutter, it is the opposite of sexy. I also plan to copy all of my MySpace blogs and post them to my Blogger account. I don't plan to delete my MySpace account, but I never go there, who does?
It's so hard to invest time, text, and uploads in any one site for fear of that digital medium becoming passe; irrelevant. I'm sure that someday something will replace Blogger or my oft-used Google Documents/Calendar/Tasks/Bookmark Lists, but for now I have to put my electronic garbage somewhere. Even as I transfer all of my music and photos to my 2Tb external hard drive, I cringe. I cringe thinking about all of the data storage I have dead, dying, or just inadequate resting uselessly in a cabinet: floppy (3.5) disks, hard drive disks, Zip disks, CD-R, DVD-Rs, & 256MB thumb/flash drives. Everything seems so impermanent.
I have come to realize that I have a bit of the hoarder in me. I will repurpose almost anything. Today, I pulled a Millenium chocolate box out of the recycle trash bin in our break room. My thought process: "Ooh tin box, I could cover that with fabric. Opens box, wow it is hinged, even better! This will be great for pens." Knowing me, I will use it for pens, but I will never get around to decorating it. Ahi won't let me save anymore spaghetti "mason" jars, because he hates how long I soak them in the sink to disintegrate the labels. The other night I needed Ahi to use plyers to repurpose a glass jar shaker. I guess I should draw the line at prying things off of a 50 cent jar.
Of course fitness and nutrition are always goals that I can usually attain for brief moments in time. However elusive they may be the majority of the time. As I maneuver my way like a pretzel around my bike on the trainer, I keep thinking that I should really sit and spin. I don't really have any excuses not to, just like I don't have any excuses not to do a lot of other things I should do.
I'm just caught in this cycle of blah. Somewhere along the line, after the Summer Sun faded, I got discouraged and I stopped training. I even stopped thinking about training. Which if you knew me in 2007/2008, you wouldn't believe it. I did not stop eating of course. So, I put weight back on. But this fat is different than my original fat. The pre-2007 fat was sturdy, as it had been amassing itself since I was a chubby little girl. This new fat is yielding, squishy even. There is no sucking in this fat.
I always seem to gain weight when I am taking classes. I don't have time to train. I often skip meals during the day and then eat late. (I did manage to avoid spicy hot dogs from Betty's Hotdoggery this semester!) I don't get enough sleep as homework keeps me up well past midnight. I really believe that stress does exacerbate weight gain. My extra loose size 5 jeans became my tight jeans. As my self esteem kept plummeting, I lost more energy. After the semester ended, even though I finally had time to train and get back on track, all I wanted to do was stay in bed. Away from benign eyes that I saw as malevolent, judging.
I don't know why, but sometimes my weight would go down and I'd be back in my size 1 jeans, with a round of flabby dough over the top. But then I would get new jeans from the same store I bought my old ones at and they wouldn't fit and I'd be back to feeling hopeless. Of course the holidays came and made it worse. But after a couple of weeks of restricting my diet, I feel like I'm losing weight. I don't use a scale, I use my clothes to gauge my expanse. Although it could just be the forgiving Old Navy jeans I had to buy since I only had one pair of jeans that fit. I know Old Navy runs big, so I am deluding myself to think these loose size 4 jeans are any sign of progress. Even recognizing the placebo effect, they do seem to be improving my morale. I probably shouldn't hold my breath until I don't have to hold it when I'm wearing new size 1 jeans.
Due to my lack of training, I won't be attempting the Ironman California 70.3 race in April. Although I am sure that I could probably do the 1.2 mile swim and the 13.1 run, I doubt that I could make the time cutoff off the bike. Maybe if the bike course was flat, I might have a chance. But knowing my phobia of hills, there's no way I can get up to speed in time. Realistically, it wouldn't be healthy to try to work up to 70.3 miles from 0 in 3 months. Most likely I will volunteer at the race for the 3rd year in a row.
Despite my lack of training, I will be "running" the Stephen Strasburg 5K on Jan. 15 and Surf City Half Marathon on Feb. 6. I have a month to get my miles back up to 13.1. I'm not stressing since a PR is the furthest thing from mind and walking is not illegal. I might even run the race with Ahi.
This will be the year of the Sprint Triathlon. I am planning to volunteer for KOZ Enterprises triathlon expos and will run most of the associated races. I have to register for all of the races now. The only one I am on the fence about is SuperFrog. It is a 70.3 course with a 2-loop ocean entry, mostly flat 4-loop bike with some bumps, and a 2-loop sand run and it is one week before SDTC, my "A" race. I spectated at it last year and recalling the course, I don't think it appeals to me. However, it will probably be the cheapest and most convenient 70.3 to practice the distance.
I will definitely be doing two International/Classic distance races this year. Thanks to Brian Long, I will be racing the San Diego International Triathlon in June for free. Which will help me crush my second attempt at the San Diego Triathlon Classic in September.
But before I can hope to achieve any of these goals, I need to get home and Sit and Spin...and swim and run. :D
It's so hard to invest time, text, and uploads in any one site for fear of that digital medium becoming passe; irrelevant. I'm sure that someday something will replace Blogger or my oft-used Google Documents/Calendar/Tasks/Bookmark Lists, but for now I have to put my electronic garbage somewhere. Even as I transfer all of my music and photos to my 2Tb external hard drive, I cringe. I cringe thinking about all of the data storage I have dead, dying, or just inadequate resting uselessly in a cabinet: floppy (3.5) disks, hard drive disks, Zip disks, CD-R, DVD-Rs, & 256MB thumb/flash drives. Everything seems so impermanent.
I have come to realize that I have a bit of the hoarder in me. I will repurpose almost anything. Today, I pulled a Millenium chocolate box out of the recycle trash bin in our break room. My thought process: "Ooh tin box, I could cover that with fabric. Opens box, wow it is hinged, even better! This will be great for pens." Knowing me, I will use it for pens, but I will never get around to decorating it. Ahi won't let me save anymore spaghetti "mason" jars, because he hates how long I soak them in the sink to disintegrate the labels. The other night I needed Ahi to use plyers to repurpose a glass jar shaker. I guess I should draw the line at prying things off of a 50 cent jar.
Of course fitness and nutrition are always goals that I can usually attain for brief moments in time. However elusive they may be the majority of the time. As I maneuver my way like a pretzel around my bike on the trainer, I keep thinking that I should really sit and spin. I don't really have any excuses not to, just like I don't have any excuses not to do a lot of other things I should do.
I'm just caught in this cycle of blah. Somewhere along the line, after the Summer Sun faded, I got discouraged and I stopped training. I even stopped thinking about training. Which if you knew me in 2007/2008, you wouldn't believe it. I did not stop eating of course. So, I put weight back on. But this fat is different than my original fat. The pre-2007 fat was sturdy, as it had been amassing itself since I was a chubby little girl. This new fat is yielding, squishy even. There is no sucking in this fat.
I always seem to gain weight when I am taking classes. I don't have time to train. I often skip meals during the day and then eat late. (I did manage to avoid spicy hot dogs from Betty's Hotdoggery this semester!) I don't get enough sleep as homework keeps me up well past midnight. I really believe that stress does exacerbate weight gain. My extra loose size 5 jeans became my tight jeans. As my self esteem kept plummeting, I lost more energy. After the semester ended, even though I finally had time to train and get back on track, all I wanted to do was stay in bed. Away from benign eyes that I saw as malevolent, judging.
I don't know why, but sometimes my weight would go down and I'd be back in my size 1 jeans, with a round of flabby dough over the top. But then I would get new jeans from the same store I bought my old ones at and they wouldn't fit and I'd be back to feeling hopeless. Of course the holidays came and made it worse. But after a couple of weeks of restricting my diet, I feel like I'm losing weight. I don't use a scale, I use my clothes to gauge my expanse. Although it could just be the forgiving Old Navy jeans I had to buy since I only had one pair of jeans that fit. I know Old Navy runs big, so I am deluding myself to think these loose size 4 jeans are any sign of progress. Even recognizing the placebo effect, they do seem to be improving my morale. I probably shouldn't hold my breath until I don't have to hold it when I'm wearing new size 1 jeans.
Due to my lack of training, I won't be attempting the Ironman California 70.3 race in April. Although I am sure that I could probably do the 1.2 mile swim and the 13.1 run, I doubt that I could make the time cutoff off the bike. Maybe if the bike course was flat, I might have a chance. But knowing my phobia of hills, there's no way I can get up to speed in time. Realistically, it wouldn't be healthy to try to work up to 70.3 miles from 0 in 3 months. Most likely I will volunteer at the race for the 3rd year in a row.
Despite my lack of training, I will be "running" the Stephen Strasburg 5K on Jan. 15 and Surf City Half Marathon on Feb. 6. I have a month to get my miles back up to 13.1. I'm not stressing since a PR is the furthest thing from mind and walking is not illegal. I might even run the race with Ahi.
This will be the year of the Sprint Triathlon. I am planning to volunteer for KOZ Enterprises triathlon expos and will run most of the associated races. I have to register for all of the races now. The only one I am on the fence about is SuperFrog. It is a 70.3 course with a 2-loop ocean entry, mostly flat 4-loop bike with some bumps, and a 2-loop sand run and it is one week before SDTC, my "A" race. I spectated at it last year and recalling the course, I don't think it appeals to me. However, it will probably be the cheapest and most convenient 70.3 to practice the distance.
I will definitely be doing two International/Classic distance races this year. Thanks to Brian Long, I will be racing the San Diego International Triathlon in June for free. Which will help me crush my second attempt at the San Diego Triathlon Classic in September.
But before I can hope to achieve any of these goals, I need to get home and Sit and Spin...and swim and run. :D
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
