A Goldilocks Morning

Just a perfect 20 mile ride this morning on the Arabia Mountain bike trail.  Maybe that sounds like a lot to you.  Maybe it sounds like a warm up.  Like Goldilocks, it was just right for me.

After a week of family travel-- hours of driving, lots of standing and touring, and no bicycles-- I was gleeful this morning as Spooky and I slipped out of the house.  My husband waved good-bye, still chuckling at the way I refer to my bike as a person.  "Well, at least you never ride alone!" he said, shaking his head as he went back in the house to drink coffee and watch TV like a normal person.

Cool air.  Blue sky.  Sun and shade.  Steep hills and marvelously winding miles drained the lingering fatigue from my travel weary legs.  Spooky gripped the turns and sprinted up the hills-- surging past young men in matching cycling jerseys as I smiled and called out, "On your left!"  

A little over an hour later, I reached 20 miles, and practiced my transition to the run-- leaning my bike against a sign, whipping off my helmet and cycling shoes, and sprinting down the trail.  I forgot my running shoes, so went without.  I chose not to make eye contact with passersby who surely must have wondered why this middle aged woman was sprinting barefoot away from her bicycle. Perhaps they thought I was running from three bears!

After recovering from my run, I grinned like a fool.  If everyone knew how much fun this was, the trails and roads would be packed with cyclists.  Thank goodness no one believes me!

All Aboard the Pain Train!

Approaching the Finish Line; overcome with emotion

My mother-- who is one of my biggest fans-- is always afraid I'm going to permanently injure myself with "all this running."  

I certainly cannot explain it to her or blame her for worrying.  It doesn't make any sense when you view running solely through the lense of health or weight control.

But that isn't my view at all.  

Running is my daily chance to be free from other labels. For that hour or so, I am not Mom or Judge or Teacher.  I am a Runner.  And that is the joy.

Last month at Atlanta's Publix Marathon, I was hoping to qualify for Boston.  I didn't.  But I was a runner racing and giving it every ounce of effort.  The pain on my face as I approached the finisher's chute is proof that it wasn't wasted effort.

Ahh . . . My Bling Collection Grows . . . 

I went out there to see what I could do on that day.  I found out.  I would hate it if I never knew.

Early in the race; still feeling fine.

5:30am and who is with me?
My support crew, my cheerleader, my taxi, my sherpa.
I owe you big, Sweetie.

Thank You to Everyone Responsible for the Tony Serrano Century Ride

This was NOT us at the Tony Serrano Century,
but there were moments when it felt like we were close!

 Sometimes the secret to happiness is just getting the mind and body working and moving so fast and hard that any clouds are burned away.


My recent cloudy mood was cleared away by the joys of a 39 mile bike ride in and around Monroe, Georgia this past Saturday at the Tony Serrano Century.

High winds and cool air kept me flying at a faster than normal pace-- even into the headwinds and crosswinds. Undeterred by a flat tire, I am grateful to the kind folks who helped me get rolling again-- Delfino, Jackie, and the SAG wagon-- and all the fabulous volunteers and participants I met.  

Although I was surprised to realize that it really was a "ride" and not a "race" (I had wondered why so many people stopped at the rest stops!), it was a joy to participate and have my friend, Amy, there to share it with.

Denver and John Robert
after a great bike and scooter ride.

Upon arriving home, I couldn't wait to share the joys of the day with my sons.  They were all too happy to get outside on our bikes and ride to the nearest ice cream shop.

Sunshine and clouds.  Up hills and down.  There is joy to be had and I'll take it to go!

Spencer and Denver try out a new idea.

Prescription: 22 Miles of Sunshine

Panola Mountain Bike Trail

Some people go on lavish vacations to lovely places with beaches and high end shopping. 

Not me.  We mostly save our pennies to pay the septic tank man or buy a new eight year old car when our even older car gives up the ghost.

Today, after the scramble of getting kids to school, lunch boxes and assignments prepared; I drive to court and hear other people's problems.  When the hearings are over, and I've hung up my robe, I load up Spooky and head to the parking lot of the Monastery of the Holy Spirit.  And there, with the sun shining and my GPS beeping to record the miles, I pedal away all other concerns.

My Beloved Spooky

In those hours riding the bike trails, my only concerns are making the turns, attacking the hills, avoiding a flat tire, and staying hydrated as I zoom past rivers, trees, playgrounds, and startled deer.

Hawks swoop overhead.  Life is suddenly real-- tangible and simple.  Cold wind.  Shadow of trees.  Bright sunlight and a rolling river.  Burning legs and gasping lungs.  How fast was the last mile?  Can I go faster?

Unlike many who view exercise as a means to an end, cycling is my prescription for fatigue and world weariness.  Nature heals me. I arrive home smiling and content.  All I needed was 22 miles of sunshine.

A Little Adventure: Little Red Riding Hood and the Big, Bad Wolf go for a Run

 I was so cold for the first four miles, I thought frostbite might truly be a danger for my fingers. Still, I smiled as I noticed both Wolf and I had a layer of frost forming near our mouths.  Were we crazy to be out in such weather?

Ice sheets flowed over the trail, and we slid precariously but managed not to fall.  It helped that we were moving even slower than usual; our legs reluctant to warm up to the run.


After five miles, the sun rose, and sunglasses went on.  We heard birdsong and watched hawks glide through the chilling blue sky.

After ten miles, I shed a jacket, and we gained speed, running all the way down Floyd street, met only by bundled families driving to church.  


After greeting Turner Lake, we turned for home, legs growing stiff, relieved to be on the homestretch.

Finally back to the car, we gratefully hopped in; both happy to have run and content to be going home-- our little adventure complete.

Morning Run Kisses

Moving Toward Balance

Changes come when I least expect it.  I should know that by now; but as usual, it catches me by surprise every time.  

After planning to do the Half Ironman distance in April, buying a wetsuit, and setting out my training schedule for the next four months, I couldn't get myself to pay the entry fee.  

"What is going on?," I kept asking myself. Finally, the answer arrived: it is too much too fast.  Ironman training-- even Half Ironman training-- requires a tremendous level of dedication to do well.  An offhand comment from a full Ironman finisher on Friday evening changed my perspective.

"I kept asking my wife; can I do an Ironman this year?  And she said, 'No, not this year.'  So I asked her the next year and the next; and then in 2012, she suddenly said 'Yes, this year we can do it.'" He said some other things about the race, but I was struck by his statement.

Clearly, competing in Ironman distances is an incredible commitment-- not just for him, but for the entire family.  It is not just his time and training that had to be considered, but the willingness and ability of the entire family to support his goal.  I hadn't fully acknowledged that issue.

My family needs more of me right now.  I have three part time jobs; but more importantly, I homeschool two children and support the learning of the third child who has chosen traditional school.  My husband needs love and support, too.  Additionally, I care for four dogs, a lizard, and take care of a home that most obviously lacks a housekeeper.  All these facts rest on top of the fact that I do NOT want to simply complete a race.  I want to be prepared to do my best race.  So what do all of these realizations mean?

To my delight, it does not mean no triathlons; it simply means different races!  I found the Tri the Parks website.  I can do three shorter races closer to home (no hotel needed!) for the same price as the Half Ironman distance.  Hurray!  They are in lakes and not unpredictably swift rivers.  Hurray!  Only one of them will require a wetsuit.  Triple Hurray!

Since September, I've had my eyes set on a goal that would satisfy me.  Predictably, I chose a goal that was nearly out of reach.  But now, I see sprint distance as the perfect choice.  It will allow me to prepare with less intensity and time away from my other work/family obligations.  These shorter competitions will allow me to practice transitions in a less exhausting atmosphere.  I can work the kinks out and begin to understand triathlon competition before investing the money and time into a longer race.  It sounds fun and not overwhelming!


I'm excited again!  And the words of my yoga teacher come back to me again and again:  It really is all about balance and gentle persistence.  Not big, overwhelming commitments.  Just quiet, consistent progress-- and sometimes that doesn't look too impressive; but it may be the beginning of something great.


  

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.