Running is where I find solace. It is my form of meditation, prayer, or what have you. It is, even when shared with friends, a deeply personal experience. It is a stripped down sport, with only your body, your limits, and your own perception of pain and time to manage. People who are runners innately understand this; people who are not runners ask "don't you get bored?". Running is somewhere that I turn when I am lost or confused or scared. I always feel better when I have run alone, but I have also forged many friendships (and a marriage) through running. Again, there is something about the sport that strips everything down, that allows you to just "be" in another's company.
The marathon is where this thing that is very private becomes public. There are only a few in any given race that are there to win, the rest of us are merely there to prove something to ourselves or to be recognized for those early mornings or late evenings spent in pursuit of what we love. If you've ever watched a marathon, you can witness pain, struggle, and great joy all in the course of one short afternoon. People wear these emotions on their sleeves in ways that you rarely witness in public. People often cross the finish line and cry.
The Boston Marathon is the most public of all. Almost everyone, even those who don't know that a marathon is 26.2 miles, have heard of the famous Boston Marathon. They know that it is a BIG DEAL. It is a place where otherwise normal people can feel like Olympians for a day. It is where many of us who toil day in and day out to run and run well (but who will never win a race) will recognize our greatest athletic achievement. It is a club that you join (much like Ironman) that can never be taken away once you are in. It is a race that the whole city (as well as all the surrounding communities) rallies behind and helps make a day so special, such a celebration, for everyone involved.
I mourn above all for the loss of life and the tragedy that befell everyone who had a connection with what happened yesterday. I also feel, as a runner and as part of a community of runners (and someone in the Boston "club"), a connection to what happened yesterday despite being thousands of miles away. Lives were lost and something that was special and sacred to many of us, a public celebration of that private joy that we derive from running, was turned into a terrible tragedy. Despite running often being a solitary sport, we know that we runners form a strong community. So, together we will mourn. Together, we will help each other heal.
Together, we will run.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Decisions, Decisions...
It's almost spring break at school, which means that the students are getting restless as spring approaches. Restlessness means failures. More of my students are failing right now than I would like to admit. I usually let them flounder around until about now and then lay it on thick. I will pull a failing student aside after class and say the following: "I was just wondering why it was that you've decided to fail my class this quarter." Usually, if done right, it gets a pretty strong response. My students are still at a stage where they believe that a teacher gives grades rather than a student earning them. Usually, they try to protest: "I don't know why YOU're failing me!". And then I point out all the decisions that a student made before they got to that "F": (Have you decided not to do classwork/homework? have you decided not to come see me during lunch for extra help? have you decided to sleep in class? have you decided to chat instead of taking notes?).
Even as adults, we like to think that we have less agency in our own lives rather than accepting the decisions that we've made. We like to say that we don't have time to do certain things (like read, exercise, or cook), but what we really mean is that we've decided that those things aren't as important to us as other things. We say that we can't get along with another person when what we mean is that we prefer not to try to see that person's point of view. We say that we can't lose weight when what we really mean is that we've decided that we don't want to make the permanent change that it takes to drop the pounds. We say that we are too tired to finish the workout, or to pedal hard, or to run fast, but what we really mean is that we have decided not to try. We say "can't" sometimes when we mean "won't".
I've realized this: there are so many things that we can't control that we need to control the things that we can. Many times we can choose to be happy when we are not. We can choose to devote the energy to changing things we don't like. We can choose to try our best at every workout or we can say that we are too tired, sore, or busy to do it correctly. In the end, we can make excuses all we want, but that finish line still looms whether you try your best or enjoy the workout along the way or not.
Even as adults, we like to think that we have less agency in our own lives rather than accepting the decisions that we've made. We like to say that we don't have time to do certain things (like read, exercise, or cook), but what we really mean is that we've decided that those things aren't as important to us as other things. We say that we can't get along with another person when what we mean is that we prefer not to try to see that person's point of view. We say that we can't lose weight when what we really mean is that we've decided that we don't want to make the permanent change that it takes to drop the pounds. We say that we are too tired to finish the workout, or to pedal hard, or to run fast, but what we really mean is that we have decided not to try. We say "can't" sometimes when we mean "won't".
I've realized this: there are so many things that we can't control that we need to control the things that we can. Many times we can choose to be happy when we are not. We can choose to devote the energy to changing things we don't like. We can choose to try our best at every workout or we can say that we are too tired, sore, or busy to do it correctly. In the end, we can make excuses all we want, but that finish line still looms whether you try your best or enjoy the workout along the way or not.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
If it's not food...then what is it?
We are coming to the end of the two month vegan challenge. I've spent the last two months thinking a lot about food. I've talked to a lot of people (informally) about veganism and its benefits both health and performance-wise (side note: I got my lipids tested a week ago for a health initiative for work and was told that they were "perfect"). I've talked to some people who have started on the paleo diet and are having great results on it. I've read several articles about the relationship between chronic disease and diet as well as several articles espousing the so-called "Mediterranean diet". Then today I read this article in the New York Times which was adapted from a book (which is about to be released) called "Fat Sugar Salt" by Michael Moss: http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/24/magazine/the-extraordinary-science-of-junk-food.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0
And I realized something (or I guess, was reminded of something). We, as a nation, are forgetting what food really is. The common denominator between all the "diets" (and I'm touching upon veganism here as a choice motivated by health rather than one motivated by morality, so bear with me) that I mentioned above is that if done right, they pretty much eliminate all processed non-food. Maybe, just maybe, it's not the fact that a vegan can't eat salmon or someone on a paleo diet can't eat legumes that make these diets successful, but that neither of them can eat powdered cheese food or Campbell's soup or flamin' hots. So much of what we see on our grocery store shelves is engineered (read the NYT article) in a lab, rather than grown in the ground. In other words, so much of what we're eating really isn't food in the strictest sense of the word.
Quick Story: When I taught writing two years ago, we read the young reader's edition of "The Omnivore's Dilemma". The other teacher that I planned with came up with a brilliant idea: we let the kids bring in their favorite treats and eat them in class as long as they did the activity that we planned first. Every student brought something in (sometimes when I assigned homework, only 10% of kids would actually do it, but every kid brought in a "treat" that day). The first thing that we did was to ask the students (without looking at the ingredient list) was what their "treat" was made of. The kids were perplexed. So we guided them a little bit. We asked them what part of the food pyramid it would fall into. They were perplexed. No one knew what was in a flamin' hot cheeto, and no one could come close to linking it to anything that actually constituted food without looking at the ingredient list. Even after looking at the ingredients, they were still confused..."well, what is all this stuff?".I didn't know what most of the things on the list were any more than they did (Michael Pollan did- it's corn!). We asked them how often they ate the items they brought in. Most of them responded that they ate things like this multiple times a day.
The NYT article on the Mediterranean Diet pointed out something that should be obvious to us: that real food should be a treat and not a punishment (think about your best meals ever: did they involve processed cheese or breaded chicken nuggets? probably not). We, as a culture, like to convince ourselves that we are being deprived if we choose a salad over a Quarter Pounder with cheese. (There's even whole lines of "I'm depriving myself with non-food" food in the way of Lean Cuisines, Snackwells, those 100 calorie packs of things that resemble cookies, etc.). Marketers have led us to believe that the way to happiness is through our stomachs and that we "deserve" to eat desert with every meal (or supersize our meal, or that we are bad parents for not buying our kids food that is shaped like animals). I would like to make some sort of comment about how I believe in personal responsibility here, but I'm not sure that we, as Americans, have any sense of that anymore (certainly when it comes to food, debatably in other areas as well). Perhaps Michael Bloomberg is right to want to regulate what people eat. When my students ask me why I make certain rules, sometimes I am brutally honest: "Because I don't trust you yet to be in control of yourselves." If we don't learn to control what we eat, the government might be telling us that very thing more and more (and they might not be wrong).
And I realized something (or I guess, was reminded of something). We, as a nation, are forgetting what food really is. The common denominator between all the "diets" (and I'm touching upon veganism here as a choice motivated by health rather than one motivated by morality, so bear with me) that I mentioned above is that if done right, they pretty much eliminate all processed non-food. Maybe, just maybe, it's not the fact that a vegan can't eat salmon or someone on a paleo diet can't eat legumes that make these diets successful, but that neither of them can eat powdered cheese food or Campbell's soup or flamin' hots. So much of what we see on our grocery store shelves is engineered (read the NYT article) in a lab, rather than grown in the ground. In other words, so much of what we're eating really isn't food in the strictest sense of the word.
Quick Story: When I taught writing two years ago, we read the young reader's edition of "The Omnivore's Dilemma". The other teacher that I planned with came up with a brilliant idea: we let the kids bring in their favorite treats and eat them in class as long as they did the activity that we planned first. Every student brought something in (sometimes when I assigned homework, only 10% of kids would actually do it, but every kid brought in a "treat" that day). The first thing that we did was to ask the students (without looking at the ingredient list) was what their "treat" was made of. The kids were perplexed. So we guided them a little bit. We asked them what part of the food pyramid it would fall into. They were perplexed. No one knew what was in a flamin' hot cheeto, and no one could come close to linking it to anything that actually constituted food without looking at the ingredient list. Even after looking at the ingredients, they were still confused..."well, what is all this stuff?".I didn't know what most of the things on the list were any more than they did (Michael Pollan did- it's corn!). We asked them how often they ate the items they brought in. Most of them responded that they ate things like this multiple times a day.
The NYT article on the Mediterranean Diet pointed out something that should be obvious to us: that real food should be a treat and not a punishment (think about your best meals ever: did they involve processed cheese or breaded chicken nuggets? probably not). We, as a culture, like to convince ourselves that we are being deprived if we choose a salad over a Quarter Pounder with cheese. (There's even whole lines of "I'm depriving myself with non-food" food in the way of Lean Cuisines, Snackwells, those 100 calorie packs of things that resemble cookies, etc.). Marketers have led us to believe that the way to happiness is through our stomachs and that we "deserve" to eat desert with every meal (or supersize our meal, or that we are bad parents for not buying our kids food that is shaped like animals). I would like to make some sort of comment about how I believe in personal responsibility here, but I'm not sure that we, as Americans, have any sense of that anymore (certainly when it comes to food, debatably in other areas as well). Perhaps Michael Bloomberg is right to want to regulate what people eat. When my students ask me why I make certain rules, sometimes I am brutally honest: "Because I don't trust you yet to be in control of yourselves." If we don't learn to control what we eat, the government might be telling us that very thing more and more (and they might not be wrong).
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Do you want the good news first...or the bad news?
Starting training this week with a good percentage of people who had never done Ironman before, I couldn't help but feel a little wizened. I mean, don't get me wrong, I still can't swim and at times my bike handling leaves plenty to be desired, but I know enough to laugh at the guy on the trainer next to me (nicely, of course) when he says that he already has a bike and so he doesn't plan to spend that much money on Ironman. So, here is a compilation of stuff I know. Some of it is good, some bad, some of it...well, some of it just is. In no particular order.
1. You will spend a zilliondy dollars before you cross the finish line. You may be the type of person who needs every new gadget out there or you may be a strict minimalist (or fall somewhere in between). You WILL spend a zilliondy dollars. You will spend more money on gas, sports drink, race entries, tire tubes, tune-ups, groceries, hotel rooms, and new shoes than you think you will. Yeah, that number in your head...double it. Triple it if you're that guy that was on the trainer next to me.
2. You will have a meltdown. At least one. I don't care if you're a dude. You will get off your bike and threaten to throw it. You will sit down in the middle of a run and refuse to get up. You will bang your head against the steering wheel in your car after a ride when your legs would barely move or you got 3 flats or it was 100 degrees outside or a combination of all three. You might even cry. Even if you are a dude. It will be epic, but it will be okay.
3. You will feel great when you start getting into shape and then your legs will feel terrible pretty much until you taper.
4. No matter how much of an athlete you feel like today, you will feel like a major badass by June.
5. By June, you are also going to have nothing to talk about other than your training and will have spent enough time in the sun to think that it's actually interesting to people who aren't training with you. It's not. Stop talking about it. Trust me.
6. You are going to meet some badass MFers. You may even think right now that you fall into the badass MFer category. You don't. Trust me. No matter how badass you think you are, you are going to meet some guy or some girl who is so badass that they make you feel like you are riding a pink huffy. ("oh, you're training for your first Ironman? I've done twenty" "Ah. Ironman, I did those before I got into ultraman." "Yeah, I got sick of riding my bike, so I'm training for Leadville"). Be wary of these people. If you listen to them too much, they start sounding less crazy and you might even start thinking that some of their ideas seem like good ones. And then all of a sudden you are flying to Antarctica to run a marathon wearing a snow suit.
7. When you tell people that you are doing Madison, they will mention the swim start. They will show you this picture or one that looks just like it. They will use adjectives like "washing machine". It will scare you. For good reason. But it will be okay.
8. By May you will want to eat everything. You will. With Abandon. I remember e-mailing coach something close (seriously) to the following: "I just ate a whole cake. I mean a WHOLE cake. I'm still hungry. What's wrong with me?". She told me to eat more avocado and nuts. To her credit, I didn't eat a whole cake again.
9. If you are a man, you will do #8 while losing tons of weight. If you are a woman, you will stay the same weight while your waist whittles down and your butt and thighs get bigger. Invest in a pair of comfy yoga pants that stretch now. Sorry, but it's the truth.
10. By August, you will most likely be questioning your own sanity as you miss birthday parties, baptisms, and weddings to go ride your bike. Sometimes alone, sometimes in heat. You will pee in cornfields and talk to cows on the side of the road instead of doing normal-people things. You will feel abnormal because, well, you are abnormal.
11. That sexy hint of color you got from marathon training? With Ironman training, It will be a full-on suit of too-tan and white even if you wear SPF 100 every time you leave the house.
12. If you follow the training plan, you will be ready. Seriously. No matter how crappy you feel through training, you will be ready. The race is just preparation + heart + a hope that your digestive system holds up.
13. It will be worth it when you cross the finish line.
1. You will spend a zilliondy dollars before you cross the finish line. You may be the type of person who needs every new gadget out there or you may be a strict minimalist (or fall somewhere in between). You WILL spend a zilliondy dollars. You will spend more money on gas, sports drink, race entries, tire tubes, tune-ups, groceries, hotel rooms, and new shoes than you think you will. Yeah, that number in your head...double it. Triple it if you're that guy that was on the trainer next to me.
2. You will have a meltdown. At least one. I don't care if you're a dude. You will get off your bike and threaten to throw it. You will sit down in the middle of a run and refuse to get up. You will bang your head against the steering wheel in your car after a ride when your legs would barely move or you got 3 flats or it was 100 degrees outside or a combination of all three. You might even cry. Even if you are a dude. It will be epic, but it will be okay.
3. You will feel great when you start getting into shape and then your legs will feel terrible pretty much until you taper.
4. No matter how much of an athlete you feel like today, you will feel like a major badass by June.
5. By June, you are also going to have nothing to talk about other than your training and will have spent enough time in the sun to think that it's actually interesting to people who aren't training with you. It's not. Stop talking about it. Trust me.
6. You are going to meet some badass MFers. You may even think right now that you fall into the badass MFer category. You don't. Trust me. No matter how badass you think you are, you are going to meet some guy or some girl who is so badass that they make you feel like you are riding a pink huffy. ("oh, you're training for your first Ironman? I've done twenty" "Ah. Ironman, I did those before I got into ultraman." "Yeah, I got sick of riding my bike, so I'm training for Leadville"). Be wary of these people. If you listen to them too much, they start sounding less crazy and you might even start thinking that some of their ideas seem like good ones. And then all of a sudden you are flying to Antarctica to run a marathon wearing a snow suit.
7. When you tell people that you are doing Madison, they will mention the swim start. They will show you this picture or one that looks just like it. They will use adjectives like "washing machine". It will scare you. For good reason. But it will be okay.
9. If you are a man, you will do #8 while losing tons of weight. If you are a woman, you will stay the same weight while your waist whittles down and your butt and thighs get bigger. Invest in a pair of comfy yoga pants that stretch now. Sorry, but it's the truth.
10. By August, you will most likely be questioning your own sanity as you miss birthday parties, baptisms, and weddings to go ride your bike. Sometimes alone, sometimes in heat. You will pee in cornfields and talk to cows on the side of the road instead of doing normal-people things. You will feel abnormal because, well, you are abnormal.
11. That sexy hint of color you got from marathon training? With Ironman training, It will be a full-on suit of too-tan and white even if you wear SPF 100 every time you leave the house.
12. If you follow the training plan, you will be ready. Seriously. No matter how crappy you feel through training, you will be ready. The race is just preparation + heart + a hope that your digestive system holds up.
13. It will be worth it when you cross the finish line.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
An epic journey...
Welcome back to "I am a Masochist", the Ironman blog (redux). We'll see if I can come up with some new jokes the second time around.
Today is the first day of official Ironman training. I went to the gym today and did the prescribed workout. While I did the strength workout, I stared in the mirror, and looked at my soft, pale arms, and thought, "this does not look like a body that can cover 140.6 miles." Well, and that's the truth...it doesn't look like a body that can cover 140.6 miles because it is not.
My freshman English class just finished reading the Odyssey. One of the things that we talked about a great deal in the study of the Odyssey was the power of journeys. Our hero (no, I'm not saying I'm a hero for doing masochistic things, but stick with me for the rest of the analogy please) starts out unwilling, unworthy, or unable. Somehow, however, through the power of some sort of journey, the hero is transformed. He ends the journey as someone different and is able and worthy to do things that he was unable to do at the beginning of the story. The hero couldn't, I tell my students, have faced the challenge that he faces at the end of the story at the beginning of the story- it wouldn't make any sense- he wasn't fully realized. It is the journey that makes him into a hero, not the other way around.
Here's to the beginning of the journey (again).
Today is the first day of official Ironman training. I went to the gym today and did the prescribed workout. While I did the strength workout, I stared in the mirror, and looked at my soft, pale arms, and thought, "this does not look like a body that can cover 140.6 miles." Well, and that's the truth...it doesn't look like a body that can cover 140.6 miles because it is not.
My freshman English class just finished reading the Odyssey. One of the things that we talked about a great deal in the study of the Odyssey was the power of journeys. Our hero (no, I'm not saying I'm a hero for doing masochistic things, but stick with me for the rest of the analogy please) starts out unwilling, unworthy, or unable. Somehow, however, through the power of some sort of journey, the hero is transformed. He ends the journey as someone different and is able and worthy to do things that he was unable to do at the beginning of the story. The hero couldn't, I tell my students, have faced the challenge that he faces at the end of the story at the beginning of the story- it wouldn't make any sense- he wasn't fully realized. It is the journey that makes him into a hero, not the other way around.
Here's to the beginning of the journey (again).
Sunday, January 20, 2013
The vegan challenge
It's only a month until Ironman training really starts. Which means that I've been working out countless hours to get back in shape in order to get back in shape. Oh, wait. That's not what's been happening at all. With all the events leading up to the wedding, the wedding itself (yup, I managed to make it down the aisle without Brian killing me with one of his crazy schemes), the holidays, and our honeymoon (in South Africa- I chased after a giraffe and petted a penguin- check out the photos...), I've been eating pretty much anything and everything. And drinking anything and everything. Which was fine until my pants had started to hurt me. Yes, hurt. I don't know as much as I probably should about nutrition, but I know this much: pants aren't supposed to hurt you. Pants are supposed to be your friends. When your clothes start to hurt, you are too fat (and chances are you are too fat because you have been a pig- I know it's not pretty, but it's the truth).
So, when Brian suggested that we go vegan for two months, I agreed (what I thought was an elaborate scheme to make sure I wasn't eating crap and he wasn't thus doomed to life with a very large bride, was actually an elaborate scheme to make me his personal chef- but more on that later). While I'm no animal activist by any means (I love my new leather boots!), I don't eat a ton of meat (I generally stay away from anything with a viable nose), and figured that challenge would just serve to make me a more mindful eater.
Thus far (third week in), it has been decently easy for me: I've been cooking a whole lot more, eating much more mindfully, and each week have managed to (with Brian's help) consume about five bags of produce without letting any go to waste (OK, full disclosure #1: I threw out one really icky avocado). What has been difficult has been social situations(full disclosure 2: I cheated once, I was at The Girl and the Goat and had had too many glasses of wine...). There are very few vegan choices on any menu, and as someone who was formerly in food service, I don't want to bug wait/kitchen staff by making a whole bunch of insane demands ("Can you make a vegan chicken fettuccine Alfredo? What? Why are you giving me that look?"). I don't necessarily see this as a terrible thing though. I'm not saying that I'm going to stay vegan after these two months (I'm not), but I think that I've learned some important lessons even in this short period of time:
-Good, wholesome, and whole foods beat processed foods every time (with the way that you feel, with the way that they taste, with the environmental impact of your choices).
- You can eat wholesomely and whole on about the same budget that you were spending on processed food crap if you shop wisely and plan well.
- Food is not entertainment. This one is hard for me. As an athlete, I should (and do) know that the purpose of food is to properly fuel your body and keep it functioning. I don't think there's anything wrong with treating yourself once in a while, but (I need to keep reminding myself this) that's supposed to be the exception, not the rule. Which is not to say that you can't eat things that taste good and are good for you, it's just coming at it from the opposite angle.
-There is a great deal of pleasure in doing things purposefully. Sometimes we move so fast, that we forget to be purposeful. Eating purposefully, exercising purposefully, planning our time purposefully give us a sense of control and make the mundane meaningful.
So, overall, it's been a good experience and a relatively sustainable one.
(Guest Commentary from Brian: Going Vegan is much more challenging than I originally thought it would be. When going to a restaurant, often times the only vegan item on the menu is Chips and Salsa. Not exactly the healthy food I'm looking to replace my meat/dairy with. Needless to say, over the last 3 weeks since we started going vegan, we have gone out to eat much less. We have planned our meals much more. And obviously, consumed a significantly larger amount of fruits and vegetables. Well, at least I have. Apparently, Jolly Ranchers don't count as servings of fruit in Michelle Obama's new food pyramid/plate thingy...who knew? Anyway, 3 weeks in, am I'm down about 10 pounds, and have probably spent a couple hundred bucks less on food and alcohol than what I normally would be doing right now...and my energy levels have been pretty good as well. No caffeine over that same time period!
However, I need to give credit where it is due. I couldn't have done this without Cindy. She literally packs my breakfast/lunch/dinner for me on the 3 nights a week where I have class and am gone from 6am to 10pm every day. When I lose all my post-wedding/honeymoon/holidays/laziness fat, it will be 90% because of her. Hopefully I can keep up with her on the bike a bit during her Ironman training over the summer to push her and help her out as a thanks for helping me out with the vegan thing.)
So, when Brian suggested that we go vegan for two months, I agreed (what I thought was an elaborate scheme to make sure I wasn't eating crap and he wasn't thus doomed to life with a very large bride, was actually an elaborate scheme to make me his personal chef- but more on that later). While I'm no animal activist by any means (I love my new leather boots!), I don't eat a ton of meat (I generally stay away from anything with a viable nose), and figured that challenge would just serve to make me a more mindful eater.
Thus far (third week in), it has been decently easy for me: I've been cooking a whole lot more, eating much more mindfully, and each week have managed to (with Brian's help) consume about five bags of produce without letting any go to waste (OK, full disclosure #1: I threw out one really icky avocado). What has been difficult has been social situations(full disclosure 2: I cheated once, I was at The Girl and the Goat and had had too many glasses of wine...). There are very few vegan choices on any menu, and as someone who was formerly in food service, I don't want to bug wait/kitchen staff by making a whole bunch of insane demands ("Can you make a vegan chicken fettuccine Alfredo? What? Why are you giving me that look?"). I don't necessarily see this as a terrible thing though. I'm not saying that I'm going to stay vegan after these two months (I'm not), but I think that I've learned some important lessons even in this short period of time:
-Good, wholesome, and whole foods beat processed foods every time (with the way that you feel, with the way that they taste, with the environmental impact of your choices).
- You can eat wholesomely and whole on about the same budget that you were spending on processed food crap if you shop wisely and plan well.
- Food is not entertainment. This one is hard for me. As an athlete, I should (and do) know that the purpose of food is to properly fuel your body and keep it functioning. I don't think there's anything wrong with treating yourself once in a while, but (I need to keep reminding myself this) that's supposed to be the exception, not the rule. Which is not to say that you can't eat things that taste good and are good for you, it's just coming at it from the opposite angle.
-There is a great deal of pleasure in doing things purposefully. Sometimes we move so fast, that we forget to be purposeful. Eating purposefully, exercising purposefully, planning our time purposefully give us a sense of control and make the mundane meaningful.
So, overall, it's been a good experience and a relatively sustainable one.
(Guest Commentary from Brian: Going Vegan is much more challenging than I originally thought it would be. When going to a restaurant, often times the only vegan item on the menu is Chips and Salsa. Not exactly the healthy food I'm looking to replace my meat/dairy with. Needless to say, over the last 3 weeks since we started going vegan, we have gone out to eat much less. We have planned our meals much more. And obviously, consumed a significantly larger amount of fruits and vegetables. Well, at least I have. Apparently, Jolly Ranchers don't count as servings of fruit in Michelle Obama's new food pyramid/plate thingy...who knew? Anyway, 3 weeks in, am I'm down about 10 pounds, and have probably spent a couple hundred bucks less on food and alcohol than what I normally would be doing right now...and my energy levels have been pretty good as well. No caffeine over that same time period!
However, I need to give credit where it is due. I couldn't have done this without Cindy. She literally packs my breakfast/lunch/dinner for me on the 3 nights a week where I have class and am gone from 6am to 10pm every day. When I lose all my post-wedding/honeymoon/holidays/laziness fat, it will be 90% because of her. Hopefully I can keep up with her on the bike a bit during her Ironman training over the summer to push her and help her out as a thanks for helping me out with the vegan thing.)
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Because my Husband is a Sadist
Here's the video!
I know that I haven't posted in a while (that seems to be a refrain here- sorry), and a lot has happened since I last wrote. I got married (see title of post and notice that I said "husband" instead of fiance- fancy!), and did some fun trail marathons and things. My tri season was, admittedly, a huge disaster (huge disaster here being synonymous with non existent), so I decided that since I didn't want to do triathlon at all last year, that the best thing to do to fix that would be to sign up for another Ironman this year. (I didn't say that my logic actually makes any sense). So, that means, that being that this is an Ironman blog, and I'm doing another Ironman, I am back full-time (you're welcome! I know some of you have desk jobs and feel like you reach the ends of the Internet on a daily basis- fret not!).
Anyway, that is all well and good, but the REAL point of this post is to tell you about the most (ahem) interesting thing that I did athletically this summer (or in general).
After I did Ironman, Brian got a little athletically antsy. He decided that he needed some sort of new challenge and that it needed to involve running because "who has time to do all that biking anyway"? So, instead of doing something normal like a run through Death Valley, he decided that he wanted to run down the Grand Canyon and up it again. and then back down. and then back up. all in one day.And since there was a very good likelihood that he would die, he wanted to drag others down with him. Since there was a very good likelihood that it would be awesome, he wanted to share that with his friends (love you Brian! Thanks for reading!). I was a little convinced that he actually trying to kill me before our impending nuptials. And since I was about to be his wife, he obviously also wanted to share the experience with me. He also invited some of the other biggest suckers we know. Since we know a large community of runners, it wasn't hard finding other people to join us. I thought that this was a horrible idea from the start. I was really excited to get started on this adventure. Well, the summer flew by, and before we knew it (after countless planning meetings- which mostly involved drinking and calling ourselves "badass"), it was time to fly to the Grand Canyon.
The morning of Rim to Rim to Rim, we woke up around 3am, packed the car and drove as close as we could get to South Kaibob Trail. After a few potty breaks, Jeff, Jessica, Tim, Brian, Monika, and I started down the trail. We had headlamps, but I think it was darker and harder to navigate than we all thought that it would be at the start. We didn't run much at that point, not for fear of wasting our legs going downhill (oh no, that would come later), but because it was really just that hard to see and navigate the trail properly. We hiked/jogged in almost complete darkness (save for the moon) for over an hour (as you will see from the beginning of the video, which I suggest that you watch). We were getting close to the bottom and the river (Phantom Ranch) by the time that we could actually turn off our headlamps and see the trail properly. At this point, we all refilled our water, took another bathroom break and got ready to go up the North Rim. We were all together and all felt pretty good. It was starting to warm up, but there was a cloud cover (which in the end pretty much saved our asses).
We took off from Phantom Ranch at a pretty decent clip (we had been jogging down to Phantom Ranch and across the more flat areas as the light had gone up) and still all together. After a while of running with some other R3ers that we had met, a few of us started to fall behind the pack a little bit. I started to hike a little bit on a flat and Brian (who was behind me) told me to pick it up. I did and started to run again. And then hit the gravel...hard. And skidded. I fell on one of my hands and my arm/elbow. It was bloody and filled with gravel. Brian was the only one who saw me fall and therefore who stopped when I fell. I had a first aid kit and I wasn't dead, so I told him to go on and catch up to the others (Implied message here: go catch up to the others, and tell them to slow down so that they can wait for me to catch up-I'm scraped and bleeding! Message Brian heard: go catch up to the others and continue running with them without telling them anything. It's fine to leave me bleeding and alone at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.). So I cleaned myself up and I ran. and ran. and ran. I ran by myself for just over an hour. In that time, I got plenty worked up. Luckily, Jeff was nice enough to cut the part where I met up with everyone again out of the video or I would be unable to send it to my family (um, or anyone else for that matter- Thanks Jeff!).
Up until I caught up to everyone we had had sort of undulating hills. After this, we started going UP. At this point, I wasn't sure that I was even really interested in making it to the top. It was getting warmer, the sun had peeked out a little bit and frankly, I wasn't really that interested in telling people that I had completed R3. But, as we went up, Brian started looking really shaky. He was pale and his shirt was all caked with salt. He wasn't keeping pace with everyone else and was falling behind. So I decided to stay with him to make sure that he was okay. So, slowly, and behind everyone else, we hiked up to the North Rim together. At this point, I was fine. I wasn't really in any pain. I had been keeping up with my hydration (we were all carrying camel backs) and salt intake. I hadn't really overheated. I was actually having to stop and wait for Brian quite a bit on the way up. We finally got up to the top (20 some miles later) and took a short break and some pictures (notice how happy we both look).
On the way down, Brian started feeling much better. We weren't exactly bombing down the trail (because you couldn't or you would fall) but we were going at a pretty steady pace. For awhile. While we were going downhill, I kept having to stop and empty out my shoes. The vents in them were filling with dirt and sand (which I assume was there to reduce erosion). I'm not sure if it was the sand or the downward motion or both, but after a while going down my feet started to blister. badly. By the time we got halfway down the North Rim, I was hobbling. Every step in a downward motion caused my feet to slide forward and rub every single blister. It was unbearable. Ironically, my legs felt fine at this point. When we hit the flat part near where I had fallen, and I realized that at the speed that we were going it was going to be awhile (read: an hour) before we got to Phantom Ranch, I cried. Tears. For about an hour. While hobbling. To his credit, Brian stayed with me the whole time and just let me limp behind and cry while feeding me shot blocks and letting me drink his Gatorade.
When we finally got to Phantom Ranch, realizing that we had at least another 6 hours of hiking left (We had been moving pretty much non-stop for 11 hours at this point), I tried to bargain with the woman running the kitchen for a burro ride back up the South Rim (seriously. I did this). No luck. So, Brian and I refilled our packs, ate the sack lunch that we were very late to pick up (as it was dinner time) and I sat down and popped the horrible blisters on both feet with the post of one of my diamond earrings (diamonds truly are a girl's best friend).
The way up, to be honest is a blur. My feet felt better as we hiked up and with my blisters popped. We met a few gentlemen who were coming up from Phantom ranch and talked to them several times as we leap-frogged back and forth. I counted down the hours until we could stop hiking. We turned on our headlamps again as we saw darkness again. We got our feet wet in rock run off. I counted down the hours until we could stop hiking. My hands swelled up into sausages. We took turns feeling nauseous and being cheerful. We told stories and were silent. It. was. dark. We hiked. I counted down the hours until we could stop hiking. We stopped and refilled water and talked to the two other guys who were hiking. They were from Jersey. Their wives thought they were nuts. I started a running commentary on how much longer we had with two hours left to go in 15 minute intervals. I ended up being off by about a minute and a half. Brian used a bathroom 4 miles from the top and had a mouse run out of the trash can at him. A mile from the top we ran into really stoned kids who were "super hungry" and Brian unloaded what he didn't need from his pack with them. And then, all of a sudden, we saw the lodge and the huts and we were at the top. And that was it. We hobbled to the lodge and ate around all the normal people (and the rest of our friends) who weren't covered in blood and dirt and caked in salt and who had normal-people fingers and weren't limping around. And that was it.
I was going to post a cellphone picture of the one blister that I got a shot of that was on my big toe but about the size of my little toe, but I'm technologically challenged. Lucky you. I had five blisters that size on each foot. Ow.
I know that I haven't posted in a while (that seems to be a refrain here- sorry), and a lot has happened since I last wrote. I got married (see title of post and notice that I said "husband" instead of fiance- fancy!), and did some fun trail marathons and things. My tri season was, admittedly, a huge disaster (huge disaster here being synonymous with non existent), so I decided that since I didn't want to do triathlon at all last year, that the best thing to do to fix that would be to sign up for another Ironman this year. (I didn't say that my logic actually makes any sense). So, that means, that being that this is an Ironman blog, and I'm doing another Ironman, I am back full-time (you're welcome! I know some of you have desk jobs and feel like you reach the ends of the Internet on a daily basis- fret not!).
Anyway, that is all well and good, but the REAL point of this post is to tell you about the most (ahem) interesting thing that I did athletically this summer (or in general).
After I did Ironman, Brian got a little athletically antsy. He decided that he needed some sort of new challenge and that it needed to involve running because "who has time to do all that biking anyway"? So, instead of doing something normal like a run through Death Valley, he decided that he wanted to run down the Grand Canyon and up it again. and then back down. and then back up. all in one day.
The morning of Rim to Rim to Rim, we woke up around 3am, packed the car and drove as close as we could get to South Kaibob Trail. After a few potty breaks, Jeff, Jessica, Tim, Brian, Monika, and I started down the trail. We had headlamps, but I think it was darker and harder to navigate than we all thought that it would be at the start. We didn't run much at that point, not for fear of wasting our legs going downhill (oh no, that would come later), but because it was really just that hard to see and navigate the trail properly. We hiked/jogged in almost complete darkness (save for the moon) for over an hour (as you will see from the beginning of the video, which I suggest that you watch). We were getting close to the bottom and the river (Phantom Ranch) by the time that we could actually turn off our headlamps and see the trail properly. At this point, we all refilled our water, took another bathroom break and got ready to go up the North Rim. We were all together and all felt pretty good. It was starting to warm up, but there was a cloud cover (which in the end pretty much saved our asses).
We took off from Phantom Ranch at a pretty decent clip (we had been jogging down to Phantom Ranch and across the more flat areas as the light had gone up) and still all together. After a while of running with some other R3ers that we had met, a few of us started to fall behind the pack a little bit. I started to hike a little bit on a flat and Brian (who was behind me) told me to pick it up. I did and started to run again. And then hit the gravel...hard. And skidded. I fell on one of my hands and my arm/elbow. It was bloody and filled with gravel. Brian was the only one who saw me fall and therefore who stopped when I fell. I had a first aid kit and I wasn't dead, so I told him to go on and catch up to the others (Implied message here: go catch up to the others, and tell them to slow down so that they can wait for me to catch up-I'm scraped and bleeding! Message Brian heard: go catch up to the others and continue running with them without telling them anything. It's fine to leave me bleeding and alone at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.). So I cleaned myself up and I ran. and ran. and ran. I ran by myself for just over an hour. In that time, I got plenty worked up. Luckily, Jeff was nice enough to cut the part where I met up with everyone again out of the video or I would be unable to send it to my family (um, or anyone else for that matter- Thanks Jeff!).
Up until I caught up to everyone we had had sort of undulating hills. After this, we started going UP. At this point, I wasn't sure that I was even really interested in making it to the top. It was getting warmer, the sun had peeked out a little bit and frankly, I wasn't really that interested in telling people that I had completed R3. But, as we went up, Brian started looking really shaky. He was pale and his shirt was all caked with salt. He wasn't keeping pace with everyone else and was falling behind. So I decided to stay with him to make sure that he was okay. So, slowly, and behind everyone else, we hiked up to the North Rim together. At this point, I was fine. I wasn't really in any pain. I had been keeping up with my hydration (we were all carrying camel backs) and salt intake. I hadn't really overheated. I was actually having to stop and wait for Brian quite a bit on the way up. We finally got up to the top (20 some miles later) and took a short break and some pictures (notice how happy we both look).
On the way down, Brian started feeling much better. We weren't exactly bombing down the trail (because you couldn't or you would fall) but we were going at a pretty steady pace. For awhile. While we were going downhill, I kept having to stop and empty out my shoes. The vents in them were filling with dirt and sand (which I assume was there to reduce erosion). I'm not sure if it was the sand or the downward motion or both, but after a while going down my feet started to blister. badly. By the time we got halfway down the North Rim, I was hobbling. Every step in a downward motion caused my feet to slide forward and rub every single blister. It was unbearable. Ironically, my legs felt fine at this point. When we hit the flat part near where I had fallen, and I realized that at the speed that we were going it was going to be awhile (read: an hour) before we got to Phantom Ranch, I cried. Tears. For about an hour. While hobbling. To his credit, Brian stayed with me the whole time and just let me limp behind and cry while feeding me shot blocks and letting me drink his Gatorade.
When we finally got to Phantom Ranch, realizing that we had at least another 6 hours of hiking left (We had been moving pretty much non-stop for 11 hours at this point), I tried to bargain with the woman running the kitchen for a burro ride back up the South Rim (seriously. I did this). No luck. So, Brian and I refilled our packs, ate the sack lunch that we were very late to pick up (as it was dinner time) and I sat down and popped the horrible blisters on both feet with the post of one of my diamond earrings (diamonds truly are a girl's best friend).
The way up, to be honest is a blur. My feet felt better as we hiked up and with my blisters popped. We met a few gentlemen who were coming up from Phantom ranch and talked to them several times as we leap-frogged back and forth. I counted down the hours until we could stop hiking. We turned on our headlamps again as we saw darkness again. We got our feet wet in rock run off. I counted down the hours until we could stop hiking. My hands swelled up into sausages. We took turns feeling nauseous and being cheerful. We told stories and were silent. It. was. dark. We hiked. I counted down the hours until we could stop hiking. We stopped and refilled water and talked to the two other guys who were hiking. They were from Jersey. Their wives thought they were nuts. I started a running commentary on how much longer we had with two hours left to go in 15 minute intervals. I ended up being off by about a minute and a half. Brian used a bathroom 4 miles from the top and had a mouse run out of the trash can at him. A mile from the top we ran into really stoned kids who were "super hungry" and Brian unloaded what he didn't need from his pack with them. And then, all of a sudden, we saw the lodge and the huts and we were at the top. And that was it. We hobbled to the lodge and ate around all the normal people (and the rest of our friends) who weren't covered in blood and dirt and caked in salt and who had normal-people fingers and weren't limping around. And that was it.
I was going to post a cellphone picture of the one blister that I got a shot of that was on my big toe but about the size of my little toe, but I'm technologically challenged. Lucky you. I had five blisters that size on each foot. Ow.
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