But I just want to drink coffee and sit quietly . . . Thoughts on Reaching the Toothbrushing Level

Yesterday, I could have done my scheduled strength training session and swim, but I didn't go.  I needed to be at the gym at 5am and I didn't want to do it.  Then life and my children, dogs, and family obligations swept me along.  Even then, at 7:30 in the evening, I could still have made it to the gym, but I didn't.  I ate a giant bowl of oatmeal and went to bed soon thereafter.  

What's wrong with me?  Or maybe that is not a helpful question.  Rather than placing blame on my character by asking what is wrong with me; I will ask, simply, why didn't I go?

Maybe you know there is a difference between motivation and discipline.  Motivation is when you want to do it.  Motivation makes life's plans flow smoothly.  Discipline is what is needed when the plans are still in place but the motivation is missing.  Discipline says, "Do it anyway."  

The voice of discipline is not too loud.  It is relatively polite.  The voice doesn't get loud until you begin to listen to it.  You have to-- as one of my yoga teachers put it-- get to the Toothbrushing Level. 

As adults, most of us don't argue with ourselves about whether or not we are going to brush our teeth.  We don't say, "Oh, I wanted to; but I didn't have time."  We just do it.  Every day.  Probably several times a day.  I want to get to the Toothbrushing Level with my 5am workouts.  Otherwise I fear I will not reach my goals; and that would be unacceptable.

It is easy to understand why early morning workouts are so popular among triathletes.  At 5am, there are fewer demands on my time.  I'm unlikely to get a call from my mother-in-law or a request from one of my children.  Without early morning workouts, I am unlikely to meet my training goals.

So even though I don't want to do anything more than drink coffee, pet the dogs, and sit quietly at this hour; and even though it will likely mean a much needed nap by 3pm; early morning workouts are coming.  A marathon, a half Ironman, and an ultramarathon require it.  Buy a new toothbrush, girl.  And Level Up.  :-)

Imaginary Me.

What Makes You Go?

 I think if most of us were honest with ourselves, we would have to admit that we have no business exerting our opinions about anything-- we can't even understand ourselves.  At least I certainly don't.

My husband and children would probably like to know why I am dedicated to running marathons and competing in an Ironman before I'm fifty.  As my ever tactful fifteen year old said to me a few days ago as I discussed possibly swimming with his swim team for practice, "Well Mom, you are certainly unique for a woman in your age group." Why is that?

We all have a basic cultural understanding of why we work; why we go to school; and why we marry and have children.  But the idea of getting up early, skipping the freshly made cinnamon rolls, and going for a fifteen mile run for fun is something only a few people understand.  And if you're wondering, I can't help you.  I don't understand why you don't.

I don't like the way my body feels when I am sedentary.  I don't like the fat, the aches, the joint pain.  More importantly, I don't like my mental state when I'm not training for something.  I get grouchy.  My sense of calm and peace is more difficult to find.

So if you are a happy, healthy person who doesn't have to fight the urge to shout at your children or spouse or four rowdy dogs; if you're a person who doesn't have a tendancy to eat when you're bored or stressed; if you're happy right where you are-- then you don't need to go for a run, a bike, or a swim.

But if you're a little like me . . . you may want to dust off that old bicycle because the sun is shining and it's not too cold out, and go for a little toodle around the block or down a nearby bike path.  No pressure.  Don't try to do a hundred miles or even five.  Just see how it feels.  But maybe don't go on wet pavement.  You don't want to end up like this guy.

Something new I learned yesterday--call it a Christmas gift: Don't try to take a sharpcorner on wet asphalt.  You might end up like this guy, and take home something called road rash that hurts
WAY more than it looks like it should.  

Without Sense to Come Out of the Rain

I have a history of running in the rain.

My training schedule doesn't know it's raining. 

That's too bad . . . because it's obviously a great day to lie on the couch, eat homemade fudge, and watch Home Alone for the 1,000th time with the boys.  

Even our dogs look outside without longing.  Everyone seems content in the warmth of our cozy home. 

Everyone but me. 

I have very nice friends who keep their running shoes looking brand new by never running on trails or in the rain.  My shoes stay clean for about 15 minutes before they are wet and muddy; and partially due to the abundant Georgia humidity, they tend to stay that way.  I've been known to use duct tape to hold together favorite pairs for a few more miles.  

Today, my training journal clearly has the word RUN written by today's date. The gym was closed and I'm not a fan of treadmills anyway.  It has to be outside for me.  I'm training for my first triathlon-- a half Ironman distance-- and with only four months to go, there is no time to spare.

After checking weather.com numerous times and realizing that they don't seem to be able to predict breaks in the rain any better than I can, I made the decision to put on my cap and head out the door.  

My shepard, Apollo, leaped like a jumping bean in circles around me.  Until we walked outside; then his head and ears drooped and he ran to the car with his tail low.

Fog and pouring rain; but warm, I reminded myself.  Warm enough for shorts and a t-shirt, even in the rain.  This is not crazy, I told myself.  I'm just going for a little run.  People do this.  This is not weird.

One of the very nice things about pouring rain is that you won't meet many little old ladies walking their tiny dogs on flexi leashes.  That is very important when you own a dog who likes to eat smaller dogs.  Although Apollo is a wonderful running partner, and certainly keeps away the bad guys, we are normally fairly limited in where we can run-- no popular bike paths or sidewalks for us.

Today we had the world to ourselves.  Through the misty afternoon of steady rain and thunderstorms, we trotted along and began to enjoy ourselves.  The bike paths, sidewalks, even the town square-- all belonged to us alone.  Water droplets hung heavy on the bare tree limbs.  Small frogs, confused by the overly warm temperatures, congregated in pools and chirped their amorous songs.  Deer trotted quickly away from us, but not before Apollo alerted me to their scent.

After a little over eight miles, we arrived back at the car, hopped in, and drove home.  Completely soaked: dog, car, me.  Yet strangely happy; marvelously content.  Oh, yes!  That's why I do these things that others think are weird-- running in the rain, training for marathons and now triathlons.  This peace.  This calm.  Merry Christmas, everyone!

Friends Mattie Moon and Tod Davis-- who run with clean shoes
at a recent 50K relay.