Honestly, some people should just not be let loose in a gym. We all know the types - the grunters, the equipment hoggers, the people chatting on their mobile phones. Last night it was a woman waving her legs around half-heartedly on the abductor machine while READING A MAGAZINE! I mean, come on honey, if you have enough energy and concentration to complete your set of weights and read at the same time then you're just not working hard enough. If I were her trainer, and sorry, but there's no other words for this so skip the next couple of lines if you're easily offended, I would want to bitch-slap her.
Tonight it was the woman doing chest press on a bench with a couple of 10kg barbells. Her form was so atrocious her press looked more like a wounded fly. Her partner was hovering over her head and I was wondering why he wasn't trying to correct her form, until he took her place on the bench. Lifting weights that were obviously far too heavy for him his technique, if possible, was even worse. I turned away then turned around again just in time to see him twisting sideways as the weights he was holding dropped to the floor perilously close to his kidneys. She was standing close to his head, just watching. Obviously spotting was an unheard of concept as well. Sheesh.
Ok, whinge over! As for me, I'm still clearing my throat more often than a tobacco smoker, but the energy levels are creeping back. I even started wanting to exercise and feeling that slight frisson of anticipation. I had no muscle soreness to speak of after Monday's run and charged my way through Dee's RPM class the next morning. We did the usual hill for track 2 instead of the prescribed format, then track 3 was another hill consisting of a series of challenging intervals with standing rest breaks in between. After the second interval, which was particularly gruelling, the music died right down and everyone paused to rest. Amusingly there was a clearly audible and collective gasp of relief as our lungs collapsed into recovery mode. I've never heard a class in a more unified state of agony.
Still feeling fresh I skipped out of work at 11.10 to do Mike's Balance class. Even that seemed to go well, although the balance through my right ankle is all shot to heck again. My back seems a lot better though and I think all the twisting I've been doing between workouts is really helping. I noted particularly that my hips weren't cramping up the way they have been. Apart from the dodgy ankle and sacroilleac the rest of me seems to be in fairly good shape.
True to form it poured down on Wednesday. The Internet news sites were full of tales of flooding and general disaster, which made for a great distraction from work. Unfortunately, although Wellington was spared the general distruction that hit other areas of the island, outside it was hosing down and extremely wet. My motivation was in danger of failing me, particularly after two glasses of wine and some potato chips at work farewell drinks for one of my managers. However there's this little voice in my head, and I acknowledge that it's partly coming from a place of fear. This little voice keeps telling me that I'm the only person watching out for me now. I'm the only one making myself lift weights, making myself get out there on the footpath. It was enough to have me heading off out of the office after 5 and walking the few metres to the gym.
By that time the rain had almost stopped and there was no wind. However two glasses of wine and fatty carbs do not a good run make. I told myself I could keep the run short, but only if I did an interval session. It's been far too long since I've run the lamp post gauntlet. So intervals it was, and did they ever feel horrid. From the gym I ran down as far as Herd Street to warm up. After that it was sprint two lamp posts, jog two lamp posts past Oriental Bay. Oh, except for the "OMG I really need to go to the bathroom NOW" dash to the public toilets by Freyberg. It's taken two and a half years but I am now officially a runner ... Yes, I know, TMI.
I think I've mentioned before that I hate my Adidas Formotion shoe laces. I've never had laces that come undone as often as these do. I've tried every mechanism of double-knotting known to the Boy Scouts Association but last night was just one of those nights where they refused to play ball. So I had a couple of stops to fix those, and two "I need to reassess my pre-run hydration strategy" stops for water. On the way back to the gym I threw in a couple of longer intervals - the length of the Chaffers building, then the distance of Te Papa down the promenade, then the length of Frank Kitts. I also threw in a couple of three lamp post sprints for good measure.
The thing with intervals is that they will inevitably feel horrid and slow and nasty, particularly without a group to guage a sense of my relative speed. However afterwards there's always a sense of pride at having just willingly put myself through something so unpleasant, and the runner's high kicks in regardless. I was well-pleased and I knew that every little bit will be helping me prepare for a sub-two half.
I really wanted to do my Thursday Duck-bashing without the Duck this morning, but I had two external meetings first thing early in the morning and there wasn't enough time to gym, shower, eat and meet. Instead I got myself through work then convinced myself to head next door again by promising myself I could do a half hour on an exercise bike then see how I felt. It was still pouring down outside and it was more than I could do to force myself to run.
Of course, after a very hard half hour hill session on the bike where I bumped the level up to stupid heights I was warmed up and a bit psyched. As a result I raced off upstairs and put myself through the first of Duck's three programmes, the one that is mainly upper-body focused. And being as fired up as I was, I cranked the weights up and threw in some extra pull-ups. The shaky arms afterwards were were both gratifying and reassuring. Perhaps I won't turn into a muscle-free wimp zone after all ...
I'm hopeful that next week will be more of the same but that the quality of the runs will increase as my lungs reinflate. Tomorrow I plan a hill run and on Saturday I'm going to limit myself to a Balance class. On Sunday I'm meeting up with the weekday runners to do Belmont Park. Unfortunately due to time constraints I'm going to have to limit myself to 10km, but the trail is likely to be a mud bath so I'm sure it will be challenging enough.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
I tell myself it's just a blue day
And perhaps that's all it was - a whole series of the darn things. After pouring out a tale of internal woe yesterday today seemed positively cheery.
Perhaps it was being back at work in air-conditioned warmth. Perhaps it was the sun that broke briefly through the clouds mid-morning and bathed my desk in a welcome pool of sun. Perhaps it was a day of eating to plan. Even though I spent part of today filling out my end-of-year performance review document (never a fulfilling task), which led to an inevitable bout of navel-gazing (am I really fit to do this job?), I left work feeling positively optomistic. More than that, I actually spent the afternoon WANTING to run. Yay - I think I might finally be recovering. Perhaps the weekend of rest paid off.
I stuck to the physio's plan though and scheduled that flat 7km run after work. I stopped off briefly to chat to Sarah, who was sitting by the waterfront opposite Frank Kitts reading a book before meeting the former Jog Squadders for their 6pm run. Sarah didn't seem to think that 7km constitued a short run. I begged to differ!
It seemed like every runner in Wellington was out for what must be one of the very few perfectly calm, still evenings of this winter. Sure, it was still overcast, but it was no more than crisp and it was possible to venture outside without being blasted across the harbour or frozen to death. As I crossed over Jervois Quay to the waterfront a woman in a long-sleeved merino top took off past me. In fact, everyone took off past me. I wasn't running that slowly, surely?
Pink merino disappeared off into the distance and stopping for Sarah lost me anyone else who had been in the vicinity when I crossed the road. Despite promising Sarah I wouldn't run too fast pride made me pick it up a bit. Another woman in a long-sleeved blue top ran past then seemed to slow down a bit. I ran a short distance behind her until she stopped near Pt Jerningham. As I ran past I called out to her not to stop because she was setting me a good pace. She looked a little startled so perhaps I should have held my tongue! I'm so dorky that way.
Did I mention it was a beautiful evening? Two rowers stroked gentle laps backwards and forwards near Frank Kitts. Two small yachts were out enjoying the still evening twilight. Gentle swells rolled in, creating ripples in the otherwise mirror-like harbour. Oriental Bay looked terribly inviting, even only if triple-layered in neoprene! Everything took on pastel shades of pink and blue, edged with silver as the sun slowly set. Back across the harbour the city lights were flicking on, a pale orange against all that pastel. When I reached the turn-around point I wanted to keep going. I was good though. I turned back.
The further I ran the better I felt. My form returned as my body remembered what this running thing was all about. I ran a negative split as I allowed myself to push the pace a bit. I enjoyed the feeling of my lungs opening up again, shaking loose the remaining vestiges of this virus. I knew I would have post-run cough this evening.
Pink merino appeared behind me as I was approaching the Jervois Rd crossing again. We ran almost side-by-side, matching strides, all the way back to the gym. As we were stretching I complimented her on her pace and we exchanged a few words about being knocked out by colds and grinding our way through recovery runs.
I did my physio-prescribed glute exercises, stretched a bit, then jumped on a bus back home. Chicken and salad for dinner, a small glass of wine, a wonderfully hot shower ...
The last few weeks of mental madness seem a distant memory, at least for this evening. Am I finally getting better? Was it getting out of the house, away from the cold, or was it the run? Whatever it was, I now feel more like myself than I have done for a little while. It's a relief, to say the least.
Let's see how I feel after 6.30 a.m. RPM tomorrow! I'm pleasantly surprised by how good my legs feel, given the weights and RPM combo I put them through on Sunday (when I upped the leg press quite significantly). I marvel again at how the amount of muscle soreness I experience these days is much less than it was pre-B12 shots.
RPM in the morning, Balance at lunch and Black Tuesday at BATS tomorrow night. Tomorrow should be quite pleasant ...
Perhaps it was being back at work in air-conditioned warmth. Perhaps it was the sun that broke briefly through the clouds mid-morning and bathed my desk in a welcome pool of sun. Perhaps it was a day of eating to plan. Even though I spent part of today filling out my end-of-year performance review document (never a fulfilling task), which led to an inevitable bout of navel-gazing (am I really fit to do this job?), I left work feeling positively optomistic. More than that, I actually spent the afternoon WANTING to run. Yay - I think I might finally be recovering. Perhaps the weekend of rest paid off.
I stuck to the physio's plan though and scheduled that flat 7km run after work. I stopped off briefly to chat to Sarah, who was sitting by the waterfront opposite Frank Kitts reading a book before meeting the former Jog Squadders for their 6pm run. Sarah didn't seem to think that 7km constitued a short run. I begged to differ!
It seemed like every runner in Wellington was out for what must be one of the very few perfectly calm, still evenings of this winter. Sure, it was still overcast, but it was no more than crisp and it was possible to venture outside without being blasted across the harbour or frozen to death. As I crossed over Jervois Quay to the waterfront a woman in a long-sleeved merino top took off past me. In fact, everyone took off past me. I wasn't running that slowly, surely?
Pink merino disappeared off into the distance and stopping for Sarah lost me anyone else who had been in the vicinity when I crossed the road. Despite promising Sarah I wouldn't run too fast pride made me pick it up a bit. Another woman in a long-sleeved blue top ran past then seemed to slow down a bit. I ran a short distance behind her until she stopped near Pt Jerningham. As I ran past I called out to her not to stop because she was setting me a good pace. She looked a little startled so perhaps I should have held my tongue! I'm so dorky that way.
Did I mention it was a beautiful evening? Two rowers stroked gentle laps backwards and forwards near Frank Kitts. Two small yachts were out enjoying the still evening twilight. Gentle swells rolled in, creating ripples in the otherwise mirror-like harbour. Oriental Bay looked terribly inviting, even only if triple-layered in neoprene! Everything took on pastel shades of pink and blue, edged with silver as the sun slowly set. Back across the harbour the city lights were flicking on, a pale orange against all that pastel. When I reached the turn-around point I wanted to keep going. I was good though. I turned back.
The further I ran the better I felt. My form returned as my body remembered what this running thing was all about. I ran a negative split as I allowed myself to push the pace a bit. I enjoyed the feeling of my lungs opening up again, shaking loose the remaining vestiges of this virus. I knew I would have post-run cough this evening.
Pink merino appeared behind me as I was approaching the Jervois Rd crossing again. We ran almost side-by-side, matching strides, all the way back to the gym. As we were stretching I complimented her on her pace and we exchanged a few words about being knocked out by colds and grinding our way through recovery runs.
I did my physio-prescribed glute exercises, stretched a bit, then jumped on a bus back home. Chicken and salad for dinner, a small glass of wine, a wonderfully hot shower ...
The last few weeks of mental madness seem a distant memory, at least for this evening. Am I finally getting better? Was it getting out of the house, away from the cold, or was it the run? Whatever it was, I now feel more like myself than I have done for a little while. It's a relief, to say the least.
Let's see how I feel after 6.30 a.m. RPM tomorrow! I'm pleasantly surprised by how good my legs feel, given the weights and RPM combo I put them through on Sunday (when I upped the leg press quite significantly). I marvel again at how the amount of muscle soreness I experience these days is much less than it was pre-B12 shots.
RPM in the morning, Balance at lunch and Black Tuesday at BATS tomorrow night. Tomorrow should be quite pleasant ...
Sunday, July 27, 2008
The Pause Before the Beginning
It's been a while since I last posted. I think when I left you all I was suffering from a cold, which I think I caught from Duck before she left. Getting sick put a full-stop on the personal trainer era, forcing me to take a week and a half out from the gym. During that time I went through a bit of a dark patch. Sitting around at home didn't do much for my anxiety levels and general mental health.
As soon as I could I got back to the gym. In my first week post-cold I did two forty minute runs, one sixty minute run (a horrific experience in very cold rain), two RPM classes, a Balance class and some weights. I felt like I was easing myself back in easily, but in retrospect perhaps not. Perhaps understandably I felt like I was dragging myself through my workouts. I wasn't dying, but I was lacking the zing.
Last week the feeling of suffering something post-viral was growing stronger. I couldn't stop coughing and my lungs just weren't up to scratch. I ran with the former Jog Squadders on the Monday night, setting them some circuits around Frank Kitts, but pulled out after the second lap. I'm taking advantage of my time out to try to get my back problems sorted and the physio had given me permission to run within a certain pain limit. By the time I finished taking the City-to-Sea bridge steps two at a time I could feel myself getting too sore.
Tuesday I fitted in another RPM class, still feeling very tired. Steve took over for the evening and his screaming got me working harder than I'd expected. Wednesday was a forced rest day, thanks to a day trip up to Auckland and back for a conference (in itself exhausting). I had a 6.30 a.m flight to Auckland and didn't get home till 8.30 that night.
On Thursday I got up planning to do a Duck session without the Duck. I set my exercycle for a challenging half hour hill programme then settled in to watch the Tour de France. A ride through a picturesque valley turned into a beautiful long hill climb in the sun. Thirty minutes turned into around 55 minutes and I stayed glued to the screen until the stage finished. That left me only half an hour to try one of Duck's new programmes so I decided to head to work early instead. After work I selected the most leg-focused of the three workouts, heading home still feeling tired but happy.
I had a meeting scheduled over the top of Friday's Balance class and it was simply too cold and wet to venture out for a run in my post-viral state. The physio that aafternoon got me to do some one-legged squats and I was shocked at how unstable my right side has become. I worked so hard to build it up and then let it all slip away. So now I'm working on my glutes again - sigh! I have some exercises to do and I'm allowed to run, just not too far downhill. The physio was also concerned that I would try to push myself too hard before my body had recovered from this cold. She gave me permission to do some short runs but nothing too intense. Seriously reined in then!
On Saturday the 'mother of all storms' was hitting the country. Hamish took off with the car and it was just too extreme outside to try bussing or walking anywhere. Staying inside in the warm seemed like a sensible option, in keeping with the general spirit of being kind to myself and allowing my body to heal.
Being kind to myself was all very well, but there was of course the side of me worrying about dwindling fitness and increasing body fat. Today it was still cold but the wind backed off and I took possession of the car for an afternoon at the gym. It was time for the third of Duck's programmes, followed by another RPM. They both went well. I still don't quite have my full energy levels back but I'm getting there. I'll try a run tomorrow and see how that goes. I continue to cough, but not as badly.
The last few weeks have been challenging. The lack of exercise, not matched by a drop in food intake, and the onset of two cold, fierce storms have played havoc with my sanity. Not only do I know I've put on a little weight but I've been struggling to keep my mind from spinning out of control. I've been over-reacting to stress-triggers that I would usually shrug off. I worry a lot about this house. I worry the central heating is breaking again, the hot water cylinder packing up. The dish washer definitely isn't working properly and the fridge is questionable. The piles under the spare bedroom seem to be a bit soft. A leak in the kitchen cupboard has damaged the formica cabinetry to the point where we might need to lodge an insurance claim. Through it all it's cold, cold, cold. Outside it is regularly wet and windy beyond belief. Work has been stressful. This all adds up to a strange form of claustrophobia that can only be solved through some serious time out, away from everything. However that's unlikely to happen, so I'm hoping the usual round of running and cycling and Balance will eventually kick the demons to the curb again.
I'm feeling a little trepidation about having sole responsibility now for maintaining my fitness levels. Duck's three programmes are good, but they don't feel intense enough and I may tweak them a bit. I was really enjoying doing pull-ups, so I plan to throw in some sets of those somewhere. I want to do some heavier leg weights over the next month in preparation for the Taupo training when I will have to back off again. I also need to do more core work than is provided for in any of the programmes. I feel like I need to be focussing the next month on strength training overall, then introducing some interval stuff around the start of the cycling sessions before easing into maintenance mode as the weekend rides get longer. I think I know what I need and I have a lot of tools on hand. I just need to sit down and get myself organised. But first I need to get over this darn virus.
All is not bad though. I had some delicious porridge for breakfast, cooked a fantastic and healthy black bean soup for lunch and followed that with pasta with ratatouille for dinner (and a wonderfully crisp Packham pear for dessert). The cats have been cute and the weather tomorrow is supposed to be a little better. Worse things have happened!
As soon as I could I got back to the gym. In my first week post-cold I did two forty minute runs, one sixty minute run (a horrific experience in very cold rain), two RPM classes, a Balance class and some weights. I felt like I was easing myself back in easily, but in retrospect perhaps not. Perhaps understandably I felt like I was dragging myself through my workouts. I wasn't dying, but I was lacking the zing.
Last week the feeling of suffering something post-viral was growing stronger. I couldn't stop coughing and my lungs just weren't up to scratch. I ran with the former Jog Squadders on the Monday night, setting them some circuits around Frank Kitts, but pulled out after the second lap. I'm taking advantage of my time out to try to get my back problems sorted and the physio had given me permission to run within a certain pain limit. By the time I finished taking the City-to-Sea bridge steps two at a time I could feel myself getting too sore.
Tuesday I fitted in another RPM class, still feeling very tired. Steve took over for the evening and his screaming got me working harder than I'd expected. Wednesday was a forced rest day, thanks to a day trip up to Auckland and back for a conference (in itself exhausting). I had a 6.30 a.m flight to Auckland and didn't get home till 8.30 that night.
On Thursday I got up planning to do a Duck session without the Duck. I set my exercycle for a challenging half hour hill programme then settled in to watch the Tour de France. A ride through a picturesque valley turned into a beautiful long hill climb in the sun. Thirty minutes turned into around 55 minutes and I stayed glued to the screen until the stage finished. That left me only half an hour to try one of Duck's new programmes so I decided to head to work early instead. After work I selected the most leg-focused of the three workouts, heading home still feeling tired but happy.
I had a meeting scheduled over the top of Friday's Balance class and it was simply too cold and wet to venture out for a run in my post-viral state. The physio that aafternoon got me to do some one-legged squats and I was shocked at how unstable my right side has become. I worked so hard to build it up and then let it all slip away. So now I'm working on my glutes again - sigh! I have some exercises to do and I'm allowed to run, just not too far downhill. The physio was also concerned that I would try to push myself too hard before my body had recovered from this cold. She gave me permission to do some short runs but nothing too intense. Seriously reined in then!
On Saturday the 'mother of all storms' was hitting the country. Hamish took off with the car and it was just too extreme outside to try bussing or walking anywhere. Staying inside in the warm seemed like a sensible option, in keeping with the general spirit of being kind to myself and allowing my body to heal.
Being kind to myself was all very well, but there was of course the side of me worrying about dwindling fitness and increasing body fat. Today it was still cold but the wind backed off and I took possession of the car for an afternoon at the gym. It was time for the third of Duck's programmes, followed by another RPM. They both went well. I still don't quite have my full energy levels back but I'm getting there. I'll try a run tomorrow and see how that goes. I continue to cough, but not as badly.
The last few weeks have been challenging. The lack of exercise, not matched by a drop in food intake, and the onset of two cold, fierce storms have played havoc with my sanity. Not only do I know I've put on a little weight but I've been struggling to keep my mind from spinning out of control. I've been over-reacting to stress-triggers that I would usually shrug off. I worry a lot about this house. I worry the central heating is breaking again, the hot water cylinder packing up. The dish washer definitely isn't working properly and the fridge is questionable. The piles under the spare bedroom seem to be a bit soft. A leak in the kitchen cupboard has damaged the formica cabinetry to the point where we might need to lodge an insurance claim. Through it all it's cold, cold, cold. Outside it is regularly wet and windy beyond belief. Work has been stressful. This all adds up to a strange form of claustrophobia that can only be solved through some serious time out, away from everything. However that's unlikely to happen, so I'm hoping the usual round of running and cycling and Balance will eventually kick the demons to the curb again.
I'm feeling a little trepidation about having sole responsibility now for maintaining my fitness levels. Duck's three programmes are good, but they don't feel intense enough and I may tweak them a bit. I was really enjoying doing pull-ups, so I plan to throw in some sets of those somewhere. I want to do some heavier leg weights over the next month in preparation for the Taupo training when I will have to back off again. I also need to do more core work than is provided for in any of the programmes. I feel like I need to be focussing the next month on strength training overall, then introducing some interval stuff around the start of the cycling sessions before easing into maintenance mode as the weekend rides get longer. I think I know what I need and I have a lot of tools on hand. I just need to sit down and get myself organised. But first I need to get over this darn virus.
All is not bad though. I had some delicious porridge for breakfast, cooked a fantastic and healthy black bean soup for lunch and followed that with pasta with ratatouille for dinner (and a wonderfully crisp Packham pear for dessert). The cats have been cute and the weather tomorrow is supposed to be a little better. Worse things have happened!
Monday, July 14, 2008
Memeage
Stolen from Whirling Dervish at Stoney Moss
You are The Lovers
Motive, power, and action, arising from Inspiration and Impulse.
The Lovers represents intuition and inspiration. Very often a choice needs to be made.
Originally, this card was called just LOVE. And that's actually more apt than "Lovers." Love follows in this sequence of growth and maturity. And, coming after the Emperor, who is about control, it is a radical change in perspective. LOVE is a force that makes you choose and decide for reasons you often can't understand; it makes you surrender control to a higher power. And that is what this card is all about. Finding something or someone who is so much a part of yourself, so perfectly attuned to you and you to them, that you cannot, dare not resist. This card indicates that the you have or will come across a person, career, challenge or thing that you will fall in love with. You will know instinctively that you must have this, even if it means diverging from your chosen path. No matter the difficulties, without it you will never be complete.
What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Read Write Poem: Dark Summer
Totaranui Beach, Golden Bay
Summer 2007
Summer Holiday
That day
we walked
too far and
the tide covered
the rocks
on our return.
We timed our
wading with
the waves,
oyster shells
cutting our feet.
A sting-ray swam
nearby.
Back on the
beach the surf
pursued us
into the
sand dunes where
Katipo hid
waiting.
There were sea
lice in your
togs and
sunburn stung
so that the
elastic from
your underwear
bit at your legs.
We had dinner
at Cobb and Co
and Dad got
food poisoning
from the mushrooms.
It was the
worst day
of the summer.
That day
we walked
too far and
the tide covered
the rocks
on our return.
We timed our
wading with
the waves,
oyster shells
cutting our feet.
A sting-ray swam
nearby.
Back on the
beach the surf
pursued us
into the
sand dunes where
Katipo hid
waiting.
There were sea
lice in your
togs and
sunburn stung
so that the
elastic from
your underwear
bit at your legs.
We had dinner
at Cobb and Co
and Dad got
food poisoning
from the mushrooms.
It was the
worst day
of the summer.
And a bonus, seeing as the Read Write Poem girls were sweet enough to provide me with my own prompt. I had already started working on the original prompt, but their generosity could not be overlooked!
Winter
In Wellington
we dwindle,
shrink to fit
between the rain,
to duck beneath
the wind.
We slow -
houses growing
cobwebs,
drafty villas too
cold for movement.
We hide in bed,
preserve energy instead.
Yes, we know these are
not tropical isles.
And yet here,
no double glazing,
central heating.
Such ridiculous
luxuries!
We are
snow-covered
hills and sleet
carried across
the water from
the Kaikouras.
We are waiting,
waiting for the
storm to pass,
the wind to die,
the sun to shine.
We are waiting
for the Shining
Cuckoo, the
orgiastic Tuis
of the spring.
We are waiting,
but we,
the antipodians,
are survivors.
Here at the
Southern end
of this Northern
isle.
In Wellington
we dwindle,
shrink to fit
between the rain,
to duck beneath
the wind.
We slow -
houses growing
cobwebs,
drafty villas too
cold for movement.
We hide in bed,
preserve energy instead.
Yes, we know these are
not tropical isles.
And yet here,
no double glazing,
central heating.
Such ridiculous
luxuries!
We are
snow-covered
hills and sleet
carried across
the water from
the Kaikouras.
We are waiting,
waiting for the
storm to pass,
the wind to die,
the sun to shine.
We are waiting
for the Shining
Cuckoo, the
orgiastic Tuis
of the spring.
We are waiting,
but we,
the antipodians,
are survivors.
Here at the
Southern end
of this Northern
isle.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
This 14 year old girl
Is a Junior Olympic ski champion and an inspiration.
I was happy to see that my workouts have included a good percentage of the stuff she's doing here, but she's lunging a lot more weight in her sandbag than I carry in a powerbag! I can't do any of the backflips or any other gymnastic-type moves either.
Sigh. I love Crossfit. I wish a gym in Wellington would take on the concept.
I was happy to see that my workouts have included a good percentage of the stuff she's doing here, but she's lunging a lot more weight in her sandbag than I carry in a powerbag! I can't do any of the backflips or any other gymnastic-type moves either.
Sigh. I love Crossfit. I wish a gym in Wellington would take on the concept.
Listening and Understanding
If there's one thing I've learned the hard way, it's how to listen to my body. My body has been telling me it's sick!
I stayed home on Monday, but grudgingly. It's so cold here at the moment. Over the course of the day I started to get a very particular kind of cabin craziness. This house started to feel like the enemy. I was convinced the hot water cylinder was playing up again and reverting to its former rumbling, shaking behaviour. Things were either in the process of breaking or already broken (the dishwasher, the fridge, the piles under the spare room). At one point I became convinced I could smell gas coming from the central heating unit (like I could really smell much at all) and phoned Hamish to come home and check it.
I knew staying home on my own in this frame of mind was self-destructive. Unfortunately the only other option was to head back to the office. That option wasn't really going to work for me either. On Tuesday, despite being up most of the night coughing and struggling to breathe, I managed to convince myself I would still be better off at work. My wiser self knew I was wrong. Sure enough, I declined as the day went on. At one point I came over all whoozy while listening to one of my team members explaining a problem she had identified and felt like I was going to pass out. I caved in at 2.00, by which time I was so achy I could barely sit at my desk. At home I checked my temperature and found I had developed a fever. Power bills be damned, I cranked up the central heating and jumped in the shower, then spent the rest of the afternoon with a polarfleece blanket around my shoulders and a sleeping bag over my lap. By the time I went to bed the temperature was receding and I was feeling a lot more normal.
It was plain I wasn't going to be going to work today, but I knew I couldn't repeat Monday's descent into paranoia either. The solution has been a couple of good books, some healthy food and some not so healthy food. I don't know what it is about being ill that makes me crave hydrogenised fats (Cheezels, for goodness sake), but for once I was going to indulge myself. They went well with the Minestrone soup!
I AM genuinely on the improve today. The cold is clearing from my head quite quickly, but is definitely lingering in my chest. I'm feeling wheezy and am having a bit of difficulty filling my lungs. The slight struggle is causing me to hyperventilate. So no exercise for me tomorrow then. However the weekday runners have their first Belmont Park run on Sunday and I badly want to be on board. There are 10km 15km and 18km options and I'd normally be in for 18. Realistically I'll be struggling to do 10km max. Thankfully there are some slower runners for me to hang with if need be!
There is some comfort in the way that I have responded to this latest cold in a predictable manner, and that I have been able to address that behaviour with rehearsed and effective strategies. I still have a neurotic side, obviously, but I think I have it a little more under control!
I stayed home on Monday, but grudgingly. It's so cold here at the moment. Over the course of the day I started to get a very particular kind of cabin craziness. This house started to feel like the enemy. I was convinced the hot water cylinder was playing up again and reverting to its former rumbling, shaking behaviour. Things were either in the process of breaking or already broken (the dishwasher, the fridge, the piles under the spare room). At one point I became convinced I could smell gas coming from the central heating unit (like I could really smell much at all) and phoned Hamish to come home and check it.
I knew staying home on my own in this frame of mind was self-destructive. Unfortunately the only other option was to head back to the office. That option wasn't really going to work for me either. On Tuesday, despite being up most of the night coughing and struggling to breathe, I managed to convince myself I would still be better off at work. My wiser self knew I was wrong. Sure enough, I declined as the day went on. At one point I came over all whoozy while listening to one of my team members explaining a problem she had identified and felt like I was going to pass out. I caved in at 2.00, by which time I was so achy I could barely sit at my desk. At home I checked my temperature and found I had developed a fever. Power bills be damned, I cranked up the central heating and jumped in the shower, then spent the rest of the afternoon with a polarfleece blanket around my shoulders and a sleeping bag over my lap. By the time I went to bed the temperature was receding and I was feeling a lot more normal.
It was plain I wasn't going to be going to work today, but I knew I couldn't repeat Monday's descent into paranoia either. The solution has been a couple of good books, some healthy food and some not so healthy food. I don't know what it is about being ill that makes me crave hydrogenised fats (Cheezels, for goodness sake), but for once I was going to indulge myself. They went well with the Minestrone soup!
I AM genuinely on the improve today. The cold is clearing from my head quite quickly, but is definitely lingering in my chest. I'm feeling wheezy and am having a bit of difficulty filling my lungs. The slight struggle is causing me to hyperventilate. So no exercise for me tomorrow then. However the weekday runners have their first Belmont Park run on Sunday and I badly want to be on board. There are 10km 15km and 18km options and I'd normally be in for 18. Realistically I'll be struggling to do 10km max. Thankfully there are some slower runners for me to hang with if need be!
There is some comfort in the way that I have responded to this latest cold in a predictable manner, and that I have been able to address that behaviour with rehearsed and effective strategies. I still have a neurotic side, obviously, but I think I have it a little more under control!
Monday, July 07, 2008
Unbelievable
I just couldn't believe my ears when I heard an advertisement for this product.
Do we REALLY need individually wrapped dried plums? The counter on the site boasts that over quarter of a million 'Ones' are sold every day. That's 250,000 individual plastic wrappers littering the environment.
Time to take a leaf out of Fake Plastic Fish's book and stop the lunacy.
Do we REALLY need individually wrapped dried plums? The counter on the site boasts that over quarter of a million 'Ones' are sold every day. That's 250,000 individual plastic wrappers littering the environment.
Time to take a leaf out of Fake Plastic Fish's book and stop the lunacy.
Friday, July 04, 2008
Since when ...
Is a cold considered to be a suitable going away present?
I have a sore throat. I'm trying to pretend it's not there, but unfortunately I don't think it's going to let me ignore it.
It's been an odd week. RPM on Tuesday night, boxing training on Wednesday morning then a solitary 7km run around the waterfront on Wednesday night. On Thursday Duck made me do more pushups than I could count, adding in a few pull-ups and various other pain-inducing exercises. At one point I told her I hated her, and it's been a while since I've felt inclined to do that. So that was it - almost the end of the Duck era. We agreed we didn't want to get emotional, we agreed I was in a good place, then I got teary out of nowhere and we both took off.
This morning was spent with a bowl of porridge, a dozen personal trainers and Duck again - the final goodbye! When I wasn't looking the small handful of other clients who had turned up disappeared. So I gave Ms PT a hug then disappeared as well, apparently taking a cold bug with me.
I've been a bit off in general all week. It's not often these days that my mood hikes downwards, but something just hasn't been right. Call it winter, call it whatever. I went out for a run at lunchtime feeling strangely sad and oddly angry at something I couldn't isolate. It was rather cold and the wind was particularly frigid and I expected to be feeling fatigued. I pushed my way up to Kelburn and disappeared from the conscious realm for long minutes at a time. Every now and then I would resurface, unable to remember what I'd been thinking, for just long enough to note that I was still running steadily, then I would just kind of waft off again. As I ran through Kelburn I found myself running faster and faster, some unbidden energy pushing me forwards. I turned the wrong way again in the Botanical Gardens and began to turn randomly down new paths. Every time I hit a hill I used my anger to surge up it. There weren't many people out in the cold, but every now and then someone would stop and move to the side for me to pass.
It was about halfway through my angry hill-training that my general sense of dislocation started to right itself. Still outside of myself I had a sudden glimpse of a woman running at pace up hills, mid-way through a challenging run and still holding her own. The me of two and a half years ago did not recognise the now me as herself. For a few seconds I got to see myself the way those strangers who were getting out of my way did. A part of me was graduating from a long course of study. A part of me was coming to the end of one stage of a journey.
I got to the end of that run still not really sure where I'd been or where I'd ended up. I think though that I got a slightly different sense of myself today, and that I also took on responsibility for something. It feels like it was significant.
Either that or it was just my immune system bottoming out!
I have a sore throat. I'm trying to pretend it's not there, but unfortunately I don't think it's going to let me ignore it.
It's been an odd week. RPM on Tuesday night, boxing training on Wednesday morning then a solitary 7km run around the waterfront on Wednesday night. On Thursday Duck made me do more pushups than I could count, adding in a few pull-ups and various other pain-inducing exercises. At one point I told her I hated her, and it's been a while since I've felt inclined to do that. So that was it - almost the end of the Duck era. We agreed we didn't want to get emotional, we agreed I was in a good place, then I got teary out of nowhere and we both took off.
This morning was spent with a bowl of porridge, a dozen personal trainers and Duck again - the final goodbye! When I wasn't looking the small handful of other clients who had turned up disappeared. So I gave Ms PT a hug then disappeared as well, apparently taking a cold bug with me.
I've been a bit off in general all week. It's not often these days that my mood hikes downwards, but something just hasn't been right. Call it winter, call it whatever. I went out for a run at lunchtime feeling strangely sad and oddly angry at something I couldn't isolate. It was rather cold and the wind was particularly frigid and I expected to be feeling fatigued. I pushed my way up to Kelburn and disappeared from the conscious realm for long minutes at a time. Every now and then I would resurface, unable to remember what I'd been thinking, for just long enough to note that I was still running steadily, then I would just kind of waft off again. As I ran through Kelburn I found myself running faster and faster, some unbidden energy pushing me forwards. I turned the wrong way again in the Botanical Gardens and began to turn randomly down new paths. Every time I hit a hill I used my anger to surge up it. There weren't many people out in the cold, but every now and then someone would stop and move to the side for me to pass.
It was about halfway through my angry hill-training that my general sense of dislocation started to right itself. Still outside of myself I had a sudden glimpse of a woman running at pace up hills, mid-way through a challenging run and still holding her own. The me of two and a half years ago did not recognise the now me as herself. For a few seconds I got to see myself the way those strangers who were getting out of my way did. A part of me was graduating from a long course of study. A part of me was coming to the end of one stage of a journey.
I got to the end of that run still not really sure where I'd been or where I'd ended up. I think though that I got a slightly different sense of myself today, and that I also took on responsibility for something. It feels like it was significant.
Either that or it was just my immune system bottoming out!
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
A Random Poem
Small Observations
The light arrives through
the sash windows,
filtered by yesterday's washing
still hanging under the veranda.
Morning creeps onwards,
despite your night-time hair, a
greying shadow retreating
back underneath the duvet.
The cats are completing
their change-of-shift handover,
one waking, one settling,
seeking the heat of the sun.
I am getting ready
around your bare consciousness,
listening to the weather forecast,
switching on the hair dryer.
After all this time
you are still not fit for the morning.
and still there are aspects of you
that I find strange and amazing.
The light arrives through
the sash windows,
filtered by yesterday's washing
still hanging under the veranda.
Morning creeps onwards,
despite your night-time hair, a
greying shadow retreating
back underneath the duvet.
The cats are completing
their change-of-shift handover,
one waking, one settling,
seeking the heat of the sun.
I am getting ready
around your bare consciousness,
listening to the weather forecast,
switching on the hair dryer.
After all this time
you are still not fit for the morning.
and still there are aspects of you
that I find strange and amazing.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Smoke, Smoking ...
Smoked!
Brilliant run tonight. When Sarah told me she and a few former Jog Squadders were meeting at Extreme for a run after work I jumped at the chance to run with a group. I hadn't counted on the group consisting of some of the speediest runners. I fully expected to get left in their dust, particularly when the woman in charge elected to run along the waterfront, up Tinakori Rd, down Bowen, then up and over the Terrace. Needless to say her chosen route was a little more challenging than I'd been contemplating!
Luckily, after two days of sloth I had fresh legs. We set off at a cracking pace which I was certain I wouldn't be able to maintain. By the train station I was warning that I might back off. At the bottom of Tinakori however I was still there and was, unexpectedly, feeling great. I was sure I would drop off up Tinakori, but at Bowen I was, once again, still there. We raced down Bowen and then turned up the Terrace. By the time we reached the lights at the intersection with Salamanca I was a few short metres behind, but once we started downhill I was on pace again. I was almost disappointed when we headed down the Dixon Street steps.
I decided to hoof it a bit back to the gym and sprinted quickly but comfortably down Dixon Street then slow recovery-jogged down Taranaki to the entrance of the gym. I guess Sarah was right. I seem to be a little faster than I used to be. I wish I'd worn my Garmin!
Brilliant run tonight. When Sarah told me she and a few former Jog Squadders were meeting at Extreme for a run after work I jumped at the chance to run with a group. I hadn't counted on the group consisting of some of the speediest runners. I fully expected to get left in their dust, particularly when the woman in charge elected to run along the waterfront, up Tinakori Rd, down Bowen, then up and over the Terrace. Needless to say her chosen route was a little more challenging than I'd been contemplating!
Luckily, after two days of sloth I had fresh legs. We set off at a cracking pace which I was certain I wouldn't be able to maintain. By the train station I was warning that I might back off. At the bottom of Tinakori however I was still there and was, unexpectedly, feeling great. I was sure I would drop off up Tinakori, but at Bowen I was, once again, still there. We raced down Bowen and then turned up the Terrace. By the time we reached the lights at the intersection with Salamanca I was a few short metres behind, but once we started downhill I was on pace again. I was almost disappointed when we headed down the Dixon Street steps.
I decided to hoof it a bit back to the gym and sprinted quickly but comfortably down Dixon Street then slow recovery-jogged down Taranaki to the entrance of the gym. I guess Sarah was right. I seem to be a little faster than I used to be. I wish I'd worn my Garmin!
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Cold, Whimper ...
It is horrific here! Winds of up to 140kmph are roaring in from the South. The Link air service was cancelled after two people got blown over walking from their aircraft to the terminal. The ferry services are cancelled. It is 10 degrees in the hallway and the rain is pouring down outside. Normally when it's this cold I would go to the gym to get warm, but right now even the thought of stepping outside the front door and walking up to the car seems like a cruel form of punishment. So instead I'm watching triathlon on television and thinking.
It's always like this at this time of year. Last year it was Ironman Wisconsin. This year it's Coure de Alene. Ironman race reports make me cry. Add to that my conversations with Dave during our run on Friday and ...
Put me on a bike. Get me off the bike and into a pair of running shoes. I could totally rock a half-Iron. I know that. Train for it and it will happen. So why aren't I out there doing it? I've let myself down by failing to tackle the swim. I let my demons get in the way of the water. I'm going to be so disappointed in myself if I let another summer season go by without a swim out to the pontoon, if I don't get to the point of being able to swim laps of Freyberg. So where should I really be this afternoon? In the pool doing drill. In the spa warming up again.
I've been saying that the next few months are all going to be about the bike, but in reality they can't just be about the bike. Once Taupo's over I'll be kicking myself if I'm not ready for at least a sprint triathlon. Get in the pool Pip! Swimming will be great crosstraining, and the Gearshifters rides even finish at Freyberg, so there's really no excuse.
In other news - I'm fitting in one more half marathon before Gearshifters. There's a flat, fast race around Palmerston North in mid-August. I've also decided to wait a little bit longer before buying a bike. That EMC2 will be there in a couple of months.
It's always like this at this time of year. Last year it was Ironman Wisconsin. This year it's Coure de Alene. Ironman race reports make me cry. Add to that my conversations with Dave during our run on Friday and ...
Put me on a bike. Get me off the bike and into a pair of running shoes. I could totally rock a half-Iron. I know that. Train for it and it will happen. So why aren't I out there doing it? I've let myself down by failing to tackle the swim. I let my demons get in the way of the water. I'm going to be so disappointed in myself if I let another summer season go by without a swim out to the pontoon, if I don't get to the point of being able to swim laps of Freyberg. So where should I really be this afternoon? In the pool doing drill. In the spa warming up again.
I've been saying that the next few months are all going to be about the bike, but in reality they can't just be about the bike. Once Taupo's over I'll be kicking myself if I'm not ready for at least a sprint triathlon. Get in the pool Pip! Swimming will be great crosstraining, and the Gearshifters rides even finish at Freyberg, so there's really no excuse.
In other news - I'm fitting in one more half marathon before Gearshifters. There's a flat, fast race around Palmerston North in mid-August. I've also decided to wait a little bit longer before buying a bike. That EMC2 will be there in a couple of months.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Recovery Week
Well, I did at least allow myself a 'recovery day' after the Harbour Capital half. The rest of my week hasn't exactly been a holiday, but it's been nice to mix things up a bit. On Wednesday my workmate, M, an Impact instructor at Les Mills, picked me up from the end of my street at 6.30am and took me off to the gym. He helped me glove up and then it was straight into some work with the pads. It was hard but incredibly fun and I had to think far too much for that time of the morning. What, you want me to move around in circles around you, you expect me to be able to respond appropriately when you yell out 'jab, hook, uppercut or cross, AND you expect me to be able to count? All before 7am?
As I continually failed to throw the correct punch, paused to make sure I was doing the right thing, failed to move in close enough or get out of the way in time, I kept apologising. Every time I apologised I would get thumped. Did I mention this guy's probably the size of Sylvester Stallone? Just when I thought it was difficult enough to have him screaming 'faster' or 'harder' at me every other second, we then moved into a combo that involved me having to duck under his swinging arm. Trust me, when there's a huge tree trunk aiming straight at your head you want to be able to drop, quickly!
In between the work with the pads we did some bench press, some core work and a few pull-ups. Afterwards M commented that my strength was quite good but that I wasn't as co-ordinated as he'd expected and my balance wasn't that great. Of course he doesn't know my whole 'sickly child, not allowed to be very active, in and out of hospital most of my life' history, so he has every right to be surprised. However being told that I wasn't that good at something was a bit of a red flag to my bullish nature. You wait - I'm going to be the fastest, meanest boxing pupil he's ever had. Of course it didn't help that he compared me unfavourably to one of my team-members. Talking to her afterwards she pointed out that she did Karate for four years, so the comparison was hardly fair!
I was really keen to run that day but I was too busy at lunchtime and by the time work was over it was freezing cold and dark. Gale-force winds were blowing sheets of rain across the Tinakori hills. Given that I was no longer training for anything specific I reasoned that running in that kind of weather would consititute a kind of punishment. Instead I struggled my way to H's office for a glass of wine.
Thursday morning saw the storm blown out. I put in a hard half an hour on an exercycle before doing more rope work with Duck. My strength is increasing quickly and I can already see the added definition in my arms. We also did a few reps of walking lunges, box squats, single leg squats and leg press, which led to my glutes and quads not liking me very much today.
I wasn't able to run on Thursday night either, choosing instead to attend H's office's wine and cheese night. I did, however, have a run planned with the Weekday Runners (as I'm going to refer to Emma and Dave's lunchtime runs from now on). A small hardy group of us set off from the Terrace. Dave, J and I all agreed that we were keen on a very short, slow run. Poor Dave's legs were still recovering from the marathon and mine were recovering from Duck. We picked up another runner at Freyberg, by which point we were nearly ready to turn round and head back to the gym. Instead we continued to run around the Bays for a distance. Past the point and we were carried by a gale Northerly the whole way to Balaena Bay, where we agreed it would be more pleasant to run back via Maida Vale. A hill was preferable to that wind!
I was feeling surprised by how good I was feeling. My quads were sore but weren't really stopping me from putting in some effort and I was holding a good pace. J held back with the girl we'd picked up at Freyberg, but I couldn't bring myself to slow so Dave and I ran out together, chatting about triathlon and learning to swim. I told him that I may be tapping him on the shoulder for a programme if I started to run out of ideas once Duck has gone.
Back round to Te Papa and we hit the worst of the Northerly. I'm so glad it wasn't that bad on Sunday. Running against that wind would have been soul destroying. J and I ran all the way back to the Terrace together. I even made a point of running under the Terrace and up the steps at the end of the tunnel. Back at the gym I stopped and chatted to M as the sweat dripped off my face. I must have looked an absolute sight. I'd left my running tights at home so was wearing a daggy pair of old baggy trackies, and I was wearing a polyprop under my old Jog Squad t-shirt. As a result I was feeling very overheated. I hadn't counted on the sun coming out halfway through our run. In the end I could no longer stand the sweat running down my chest to escaped to the showers.
All up it was a surprisingly pacey and good run given it was the first post-race run, and around 7km with a hill was a bit more than I'd been planning. My quads have totally locked up this afternoon though and I've been hobbling around the office. I want to get up in the morning and run for at least an hour but I don't have anything firm planned and the weather's not that great. Not having a firm plan for my run means I'm highly likely to simply roll over and stay in bed. I have a date with some kittens in Titahi Bay at 11 so I can't meet up with the Gearshifters types for a ride. I am, however, contemplating the 90 minute RPM on Sunday. Given that it starts at 7.30am I'm even MORE likely to roll over and stay in bed tomorrow morning. I need at least one lie-in each weekend or I start to go a little insane. Of course I can run tomorrow afternoon instead. It will all depend on how motivated I feel and how sore I am. A rest day probably won't hurt me, and I can always long-run on Monday night instead.
As I continually failed to throw the correct punch, paused to make sure I was doing the right thing, failed to move in close enough or get out of the way in time, I kept apologising. Every time I apologised I would get thumped. Did I mention this guy's probably the size of Sylvester Stallone? Just when I thought it was difficult enough to have him screaming 'faster' or 'harder' at me every other second, we then moved into a combo that involved me having to duck under his swinging arm. Trust me, when there's a huge tree trunk aiming straight at your head you want to be able to drop, quickly!
In between the work with the pads we did some bench press, some core work and a few pull-ups. Afterwards M commented that my strength was quite good but that I wasn't as co-ordinated as he'd expected and my balance wasn't that great. Of course he doesn't know my whole 'sickly child, not allowed to be very active, in and out of hospital most of my life' history, so he has every right to be surprised. However being told that I wasn't that good at something was a bit of a red flag to my bullish nature. You wait - I'm going to be the fastest, meanest boxing pupil he's ever had. Of course it didn't help that he compared me unfavourably to one of my team-members. Talking to her afterwards she pointed out that she did Karate for four years, so the comparison was hardly fair!
I was really keen to run that day but I was too busy at lunchtime and by the time work was over it was freezing cold and dark. Gale-force winds were blowing sheets of rain across the Tinakori hills. Given that I was no longer training for anything specific I reasoned that running in that kind of weather would consititute a kind of punishment. Instead I struggled my way to H's office for a glass of wine.
Thursday morning saw the storm blown out. I put in a hard half an hour on an exercycle before doing more rope work with Duck. My strength is increasing quickly and I can already see the added definition in my arms. We also did a few reps of walking lunges, box squats, single leg squats and leg press, which led to my glutes and quads not liking me very much today.
I wasn't able to run on Thursday night either, choosing instead to attend H's office's wine and cheese night. I did, however, have a run planned with the Weekday Runners (as I'm going to refer to Emma and Dave's lunchtime runs from now on). A small hardy group of us set off from the Terrace. Dave, J and I all agreed that we were keen on a very short, slow run. Poor Dave's legs were still recovering from the marathon and mine were recovering from Duck. We picked up another runner at Freyberg, by which point we were nearly ready to turn round and head back to the gym. Instead we continued to run around the Bays for a distance. Past the point and we were carried by a gale Northerly the whole way to Balaena Bay, where we agreed it would be more pleasant to run back via Maida Vale. A hill was preferable to that wind!
I was feeling surprised by how good I was feeling. My quads were sore but weren't really stopping me from putting in some effort and I was holding a good pace. J held back with the girl we'd picked up at Freyberg, but I couldn't bring myself to slow so Dave and I ran out together, chatting about triathlon and learning to swim. I told him that I may be tapping him on the shoulder for a programme if I started to run out of ideas once Duck has gone.
Back round to Te Papa and we hit the worst of the Northerly. I'm so glad it wasn't that bad on Sunday. Running against that wind would have been soul destroying. J and I ran all the way back to the Terrace together. I even made a point of running under the Terrace and up the steps at the end of the tunnel. Back at the gym I stopped and chatted to M as the sweat dripped off my face. I must have looked an absolute sight. I'd left my running tights at home so was wearing a daggy pair of old baggy trackies, and I was wearing a polyprop under my old Jog Squad t-shirt. As a result I was feeling very overheated. I hadn't counted on the sun coming out halfway through our run. In the end I could no longer stand the sweat running down my chest to escaped to the showers.
All up it was a surprisingly pacey and good run given it was the first post-race run, and around 7km with a hill was a bit more than I'd been planning. My quads have totally locked up this afternoon though and I've been hobbling around the office. I want to get up in the morning and run for at least an hour but I don't have anything firm planned and the weather's not that great. Not having a firm plan for my run means I'm highly likely to simply roll over and stay in bed. I have a date with some kittens in Titahi Bay at 11 so I can't meet up with the Gearshifters types for a ride. I am, however, contemplating the 90 minute RPM on Sunday. Given that it starts at 7.30am I'm even MORE likely to roll over and stay in bed tomorrow morning. I need at least one lie-in each weekend or I start to go a little insane. Of course I can run tomorrow afternoon instead. It will all depend on how motivated I feel and how sore I am. A rest day probably won't hurt me, and I can always long-run on Monday night instead.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Harbour Capital Half: A few more thoughts
Well, the shoes have dried off now and I'd like to mull over my race once more. I'll try to keep this short!
It seems funny to think now that only a few years ago this whole race thing used to completely terrify me. I was intimidated by all the 'real' runners, struck down by a sense of duty to achieve some self-imposed goal. These days I enter at the last moment. I sleep well the night before, and my pre-race nerves have finally been conquered by a well-rehearsed routine and honed sense of self-awareness.
So it was this year. I went out to dinner at a friend's the night before. A highly spicy Thai curry with lots of coconut cream would not have been my choice of pre-race fuel. At least I stuck to orange juice and water! I went to bed early, but not excessively so. I slept well and woke half an hour before my alarm, lying in bed until it went off. As always I listened to the news. I got up and, as I always do, I dressed in the clothing I had left out the night before. I went through my usual preparation, including a warm porridge breakfast. My stomach felt a little queasy, but nothing too major. I put on my timing chip and race number, added my usual pre-race layers for warmth.
The weather forecast had been pretty grim. It was supposed to be wet, cold and blowing a gale. At 7a.m. the sky was black, bar a red sunrise over the mountains to the East. My first thought after getting out of bed was that it was remarkably warm. I had been considering turning on the central heating and getting in the shower if it had been really cold, but ended up not feeling the need.
After breakfast I got a few minutes down the road before realising I'd left my Hydrocortisone behind, so I quickly turned around and raced back down our steps to grab it. That also enabled me to pick up the face-plate of our car stereo off the kitchen table. It started raining as I was driving into town. Now that it was light the wind was picking up as well and the weather was looking distinctly unpromising.
The queue to get into the stadium carpark was shorter this year, but it was difficult to find a park once I was in there. It was really starting to rain by the time I made it under the cover of the stadium concourse. It was packed full of runners togged up in thermals and various rain jackets. I had elected not to wear a thermal but had donned my grey and orange Adidas windbreaker, thinking that it would be good to keep the rain off my arms. Underneath I wore a short-sleeved black technical t-shirt.
I had been thinking about doing a few warm-up exercises, but with noone keen to move outside there wasn't really any room. It took forever to locate the two hour pace runner and I never managed to find Sarah or any of the other Les Mills runnners. Everyone waited until the last possible moment before moving outside.
Finally we were waiting near the starting line. I had already decided that I wasn't going to worry about pushing for two hours. I didn't feel that the conditions were right and I wasn't feeling in the mood to fight for it. However once the race started things changed. The start was horrifically congested, even worse than last year. There were the usual walkers being shoved from side to side as they were passed by hundreds of runners.
I had harboured vague ideas about sticking with the pace runner, but he was running way too slowly. I checked my Garmin to make sure I wasn't racing off too fast, but was happy that I was sticking to my goal 5.30 to 5.40 pace so left him behind. I knew that I would quickly be able to feel whether I was going to run strong or not. By the time we were running along the Quay I already knew this was going to be one of my better days. I started to think about aiming for two hours again.
Within minutes I spotted Sarah running in the crowd ahead of me. I considered whether I should try to catch up and run with her, but I fully expected her to take off so decided I would just aim to keep her in my sights. I didn't want the pressure of trying to keep up with anyone else. I stayed about ten metres or so behind her all the way around the waterfront.
In one of my blog-posts in the lead-up to this race I reminded myself that I would probably feel nasty at around the five to seven kilometre mark and that when that happened I would just have to push through. I expected to get the stitch at around the twenty minute mark. Well, neither of those two events came to pass. I felt strong the whole way to the turn-around, and the stitch never eventuated. It seemed that just knowing I could run through a rough patch helped me to avoid the rough patch all together.
I was slowly creeping closer to Sarah but was content to remain anonymous. My cover was blown however at Freyberg, where Duck and co cheered the both of us on. Darn! I drew level and stuck more or less just behind her shoulder all the way to Miramar. I felt a bit guilty. It must have been annoying to have a shadow. I wasn't intentionally sitting in that exact spot, it just happened to be were I ended up.
I also feel a bit guilty about my rant about runners not paying attention. To be honest, I was a real idiot and managed to spectacularly demonstrate my own lack of attention. Wellington runners will know that, around Pt Jerningham, there is a low white post-and-rail fence separating the footpath from the road. Well, I was so distracted by my Garmin that I managed to run right into the end of it. Smack, bang, ouch! True to form I never even paused to dust myself off. I reassured everyone that I was fine and kept on running, ignoring the pain in my quad.
The rest of the first split is a bit of a blur. I do remember being passed at a rapid pace by the two hour pacer. The woman next to me and I checked our wrists. We commented that, having started out too slow, he now seemed to be running waaayyyy too quickly. There was a small pack of green-banded runners trailing in his wake.
I'd skipped the water stop at the 5km mark but thought a little Peak Fuel at the 8km might give me a little boost. I made myself run through the drink stop, sipping as I went. My memories of this part of the race are a little hazy. I remember thinking I'd gotten here rather quickly. I remember there being a lot of water on the footpath and I remember there being a nasty headwind on the approach to the Miramar cutting. I remember seeing the guy who ran in a suit and thinking that he looked like he was having some chaffing issues. I was a little frustrated to note that I'd hit the turnaround in almost exactly the same time as last year. I was less than a minute off pace, but I knew I'd be running into a headwind on the return and that I would probably tire over the last few kilometres. I knew it would be a push to hit two hours.
In what felt like no time at all I was back at the drink stop - eight kilometres to go. I drank a little more Peak Fuel. Now the headwind was having a bit of an impact. I was slowing and my aim switched to trying to surge through the wind then pick it back up to goal pace or less in the shelter. It was a tough strategy. Psychologically however, this was not a particularly difficult part of the race. Never has 21 kilomtres felt like such a short distance. Familiarity can sometimes be a good thing and being able to check off each landmark made a huge difference to my morale. It was also a lot of fun to be able to run along the edge of the road rather than on the curb.
At this point I would, again, like to acknowledge the many, many people who cheered me on during the race. I'm embarrassed to say that I missed seeing most of you until you called out to me. Don't take that personally. I was in my own little headspace! It was fantastic, however, to have Les Mills staff out on the course. I was thrilled to have Duck and co cheering me on again at Freyberg. I had overtaken Sarah not long after the half-way mark and was happy to be able to point that fact out (sorry Sarah). However I was also glad to have her behind me because I was convinced she was breathing down my neck and about to fly past at any moment. Every now and then I would take a quick glance backwards to check for a speedy smurf. She kept me moving!
As previously noted, my longest training runs have been 15km long, and I've only been running at most three times a week thanks to a dodgy ankle. I fully expected that this would come back to haunt me over the last six kilometres, and to a certain extent it did. I was a little slower than I would have liked and my legs were hurting a bit. I was trying to stick to a pace that would enable me to make two hours, but it was getting harder.
Around Te Papa and past the two kilometre marker. A guy next to me turned to his buddy and said "come on, we can still do under two hours if we pick up the pace". He took off, leaving his friend behind. Duck's advise to me had been to push it for the last five kilometres. I was trying - hard. Before the race I'd been nervous about pushing it with over 25 minutes to go, for fear of crashing and burning (or vomiting). Now I was giving it as much gas as I could. With that two kilometres to go I checked my own wrist and saw that I would have to run at a five minute pace to get there. Oh dear, I wanted it so badly but it was soooo not happening.
I wondered whether I could make 2.02. I remembered reaching Queens Wharf Events Centre last year and being thrilled to be nearly finished. This year there seemed to be almost no distance between the Centre and the Stadium. Suddenly I was there. I wanted to run strongly up that damn ramp, but it just wasn't happening. I remember last year putting on a spurt down the concourse to make it to the finish in under 2.08. This year there was a spurt to get under 2.04. I made it, just.
I hadn't really been feeling nauseaus when I was running, but I got hit with a big wave once I stopped. I had to hold onto the fence and bend over for a couple of minutes. My quads cramped up immediately. I shuffled into the stadium and smiled at a random volunteer, who rewarded me with a spot prize voucher. I was feeling too queasy to contemplate any more Peak Fuel, but I thought I should try some water. Unfortunately the water tasted badly of plastic so most of it got binned.
I spotted Sarah in the queue behind me as I was picking up my goodie bag. I picked up my spot prize then walked back to meet her. We chatted while she picked up her bags. I'd slipped my wind parker off my shoulders at Oriental Bay on the return leg, because I was starting to get a bit warm. Now though I was starting to feel as wet as I was, and rather cold. I ducked down to my car (walking sideways down the stairs), threw on some warm clothes, and then we limped off to Les Mills for a much-needed shower and stretch.
Never has a shower felt soooo good. So hot, so powerful. Afterwards, changed and waiting for Sarah, I started feeling very cold and shaky. I'd had a Replace drink, but it wasn't enough. Another running friend and half-marathon finisher, Jo, practically forced me to eat a couple of her gummy lollies. Within seconds I was feeling warm and recovered. I suspect my blood sugars were bottoming out. The same thing happened to me after the Grape Ride. I don't think it was low cortisol (I'd doubled my usual morning dose). After the lollies and a Subway chicken fillet sub I felt fine.
After the walk back to the stadium for prize giving it occured to me that it wasn't my quads that were sore as such, it was my quad. Specifically it was my right quad, exactly where a huge red and black bruise was now forming. The next day I continued to feel very sore where my leg had impacted with the fence, but the rest of my quads felt fine. By this morning my right ankle and the bottom of my left hamstring were a bit niggly. Otherwise, I've been very pleased with my recovery. I would have run a short recovery run yesterday had it not been for the atrocious weather and a deliberate decision to leave my running gear at home.
In summary then, I expected to know within minutes whether I'd have a race on my hands, and I did. I knew I could make it to the turn-around at my goal pace or less, and I pretty-much did. I theorised that a little energy-drink would help give me a boost, and I'm fairly certain it did. I expected to slow down on the return leg, and I did. I expected to start to crash a bit after an hour and a half, and I did. In retrospect, some jelly-beans or similar would have been good here. I knew that if I could cut down on last year's positive split I would pretty much be guaranteed of a PB. I managed to cut four minutes off last year's return leg, and that was how I achieved the PB. As mentioned earlier, the first 10.5km were run at almost the exact same pace as last year.
In conclusion then, I know I am definitely capable of going sub-two hours. A little more training (including a few more long runs and some speed-work), and slightly more favourable conditions and I'd be targeting 1.55. One day I might even be as fast as my mother-in-law! A quick look at the results today showed me as finishing 49th out of 99 women in my age group. So my place as a mid-pack runner has been firmly cemented. Given that I've spent my whole life finishing last I'll settle for top 50! As life returns to normal this race is doing a lot to boost my confidence in my own abilities.
This morning I got up and did Dee's 6a.m. RPM class. My legs felt ok, though I didn't push the dial too hard. In fact, they felt rather strong. A lunchtime Body Balance was a little more telling though. My hips were very tight and sore and this seemed to lead to a weakness through my core in the ab track and a general decline in my balance poses. It was good to be able to stretch out though.
In the morning I'm getting up early to work out with a colleague, Murray. He teaches Impact at Les Mills, so I know I'm in for some kind of boxing training. I'm looking forward to it. He's intrigued with my reputed pull-up and push-up capabilities, so they may also both be tested. I'm meeting some of my Les Mills running buddies for lunch and I may try to run tomorrow night. I feel quite ridiculously full of energy and I think the race may have led to a little surge in my fitness levels which I'm keen to capitialise on.
Gearshifters starts again on 1 September, at which point it will all be about the bike again. For the next couple of months I want to really push my leg weights to maximise my leg strength. Once I start riding I'll have to ease off again. There are a couple of half marathon options in August, both on fairly flat, fast courses.
Speaking of bikes though, this little darling is currently sitting in Penny Farthings, on sale for just over $1400. How badly do I want her? Oh Lola, I'm ashamed to admit I'd leave behind your big-boned, arthritic Sora componentry behind for this extremely light-weight little baby. Give me some carbon-forked niceness and a little female-specificity! How tragic is it that I lust over a narrow pair of handle-bars and a padded saddle? Plus how sexy is that cream and gold colour scheme? And how cool is it to have a 'genius' bike? I want my bike to have a high IQ ...
It seems funny to think now that only a few years ago this whole race thing used to completely terrify me. I was intimidated by all the 'real' runners, struck down by a sense of duty to achieve some self-imposed goal. These days I enter at the last moment. I sleep well the night before, and my pre-race nerves have finally been conquered by a well-rehearsed routine and honed sense of self-awareness.
So it was this year. I went out to dinner at a friend's the night before. A highly spicy Thai curry with lots of coconut cream would not have been my choice of pre-race fuel. At least I stuck to orange juice and water! I went to bed early, but not excessively so. I slept well and woke half an hour before my alarm, lying in bed until it went off. As always I listened to the news. I got up and, as I always do, I dressed in the clothing I had left out the night before. I went through my usual preparation, including a warm porridge breakfast. My stomach felt a little queasy, but nothing too major. I put on my timing chip and race number, added my usual pre-race layers for warmth.
The weather forecast had been pretty grim. It was supposed to be wet, cold and blowing a gale. At 7a.m. the sky was black, bar a red sunrise over the mountains to the East. My first thought after getting out of bed was that it was remarkably warm. I had been considering turning on the central heating and getting in the shower if it had been really cold, but ended up not feeling the need.
After breakfast I got a few minutes down the road before realising I'd left my Hydrocortisone behind, so I quickly turned around and raced back down our steps to grab it. That also enabled me to pick up the face-plate of our car stereo off the kitchen table. It started raining as I was driving into town. Now that it was light the wind was picking up as well and the weather was looking distinctly unpromising.
The queue to get into the stadium carpark was shorter this year, but it was difficult to find a park once I was in there. It was really starting to rain by the time I made it under the cover of the stadium concourse. It was packed full of runners togged up in thermals and various rain jackets. I had elected not to wear a thermal but had donned my grey and orange Adidas windbreaker, thinking that it would be good to keep the rain off my arms. Underneath I wore a short-sleeved black technical t-shirt.
I had been thinking about doing a few warm-up exercises, but with noone keen to move outside there wasn't really any room. It took forever to locate the two hour pace runner and I never managed to find Sarah or any of the other Les Mills runnners. Everyone waited until the last possible moment before moving outside.
Finally we were waiting near the starting line. I had already decided that I wasn't going to worry about pushing for two hours. I didn't feel that the conditions were right and I wasn't feeling in the mood to fight for it. However once the race started things changed. The start was horrifically congested, even worse than last year. There were the usual walkers being shoved from side to side as they were passed by hundreds of runners.
I had harboured vague ideas about sticking with the pace runner, but he was running way too slowly. I checked my Garmin to make sure I wasn't racing off too fast, but was happy that I was sticking to my goal 5.30 to 5.40 pace so left him behind. I knew that I would quickly be able to feel whether I was going to run strong or not. By the time we were running along the Quay I already knew this was going to be one of my better days. I started to think about aiming for two hours again.
Within minutes I spotted Sarah running in the crowd ahead of me. I considered whether I should try to catch up and run with her, but I fully expected her to take off so decided I would just aim to keep her in my sights. I didn't want the pressure of trying to keep up with anyone else. I stayed about ten metres or so behind her all the way around the waterfront.
In one of my blog-posts in the lead-up to this race I reminded myself that I would probably feel nasty at around the five to seven kilometre mark and that when that happened I would just have to push through. I expected to get the stitch at around the twenty minute mark. Well, neither of those two events came to pass. I felt strong the whole way to the turn-around, and the stitch never eventuated. It seemed that just knowing I could run through a rough patch helped me to avoid the rough patch all together.
I was slowly creeping closer to Sarah but was content to remain anonymous. My cover was blown however at Freyberg, where Duck and co cheered the both of us on. Darn! I drew level and stuck more or less just behind her shoulder all the way to Miramar. I felt a bit guilty. It must have been annoying to have a shadow. I wasn't intentionally sitting in that exact spot, it just happened to be were I ended up.
I also feel a bit guilty about my rant about runners not paying attention. To be honest, I was a real idiot and managed to spectacularly demonstrate my own lack of attention. Wellington runners will know that, around Pt Jerningham, there is a low white post-and-rail fence separating the footpath from the road. Well, I was so distracted by my Garmin that I managed to run right into the end of it. Smack, bang, ouch! True to form I never even paused to dust myself off. I reassured everyone that I was fine and kept on running, ignoring the pain in my quad.
The rest of the first split is a bit of a blur. I do remember being passed at a rapid pace by the two hour pacer. The woman next to me and I checked our wrists. We commented that, having started out too slow, he now seemed to be running waaayyyy too quickly. There was a small pack of green-banded runners trailing in his wake.
I'd skipped the water stop at the 5km mark but thought a little Peak Fuel at the 8km might give me a little boost. I made myself run through the drink stop, sipping as I went. My memories of this part of the race are a little hazy. I remember thinking I'd gotten here rather quickly. I remember there being a lot of water on the footpath and I remember there being a nasty headwind on the approach to the Miramar cutting. I remember seeing the guy who ran in a suit and thinking that he looked like he was having some chaffing issues. I was a little frustrated to note that I'd hit the turnaround in almost exactly the same time as last year. I was less than a minute off pace, but I knew I'd be running into a headwind on the return and that I would probably tire over the last few kilometres. I knew it would be a push to hit two hours.
In what felt like no time at all I was back at the drink stop - eight kilometres to go. I drank a little more Peak Fuel. Now the headwind was having a bit of an impact. I was slowing and my aim switched to trying to surge through the wind then pick it back up to goal pace or less in the shelter. It was a tough strategy. Psychologically however, this was not a particularly difficult part of the race. Never has 21 kilomtres felt like such a short distance. Familiarity can sometimes be a good thing and being able to check off each landmark made a huge difference to my morale. It was also a lot of fun to be able to run along the edge of the road rather than on the curb.
At this point I would, again, like to acknowledge the many, many people who cheered me on during the race. I'm embarrassed to say that I missed seeing most of you until you called out to me. Don't take that personally. I was in my own little headspace! It was fantastic, however, to have Les Mills staff out on the course. I was thrilled to have Duck and co cheering me on again at Freyberg. I had overtaken Sarah not long after the half-way mark and was happy to be able to point that fact out (sorry Sarah). However I was also glad to have her behind me because I was convinced she was breathing down my neck and about to fly past at any moment. Every now and then I would take a quick glance backwards to check for a speedy smurf. She kept me moving!
As previously noted, my longest training runs have been 15km long, and I've only been running at most three times a week thanks to a dodgy ankle. I fully expected that this would come back to haunt me over the last six kilometres, and to a certain extent it did. I was a little slower than I would have liked and my legs were hurting a bit. I was trying to stick to a pace that would enable me to make two hours, but it was getting harder.
Around Te Papa and past the two kilometre marker. A guy next to me turned to his buddy and said "come on, we can still do under two hours if we pick up the pace". He took off, leaving his friend behind. Duck's advise to me had been to push it for the last five kilometres. I was trying - hard. Before the race I'd been nervous about pushing it with over 25 minutes to go, for fear of crashing and burning (or vomiting). Now I was giving it as much gas as I could. With that two kilometres to go I checked my own wrist and saw that I would have to run at a five minute pace to get there. Oh dear, I wanted it so badly but it was soooo not happening.
I wondered whether I could make 2.02. I remembered reaching Queens Wharf Events Centre last year and being thrilled to be nearly finished. This year there seemed to be almost no distance between the Centre and the Stadium. Suddenly I was there. I wanted to run strongly up that damn ramp, but it just wasn't happening. I remember last year putting on a spurt down the concourse to make it to the finish in under 2.08. This year there was a spurt to get under 2.04. I made it, just.
I hadn't really been feeling nauseaus when I was running, but I got hit with a big wave once I stopped. I had to hold onto the fence and bend over for a couple of minutes. My quads cramped up immediately. I shuffled into the stadium and smiled at a random volunteer, who rewarded me with a spot prize voucher. I was feeling too queasy to contemplate any more Peak Fuel, but I thought I should try some water. Unfortunately the water tasted badly of plastic so most of it got binned.
I spotted Sarah in the queue behind me as I was picking up my goodie bag. I picked up my spot prize then walked back to meet her. We chatted while she picked up her bags. I'd slipped my wind parker off my shoulders at Oriental Bay on the return leg, because I was starting to get a bit warm. Now though I was starting to feel as wet as I was, and rather cold. I ducked down to my car (walking sideways down the stairs), threw on some warm clothes, and then we limped off to Les Mills for a much-needed shower and stretch.
Never has a shower felt soooo good. So hot, so powerful. Afterwards, changed and waiting for Sarah, I started feeling very cold and shaky. I'd had a Replace drink, but it wasn't enough. Another running friend and half-marathon finisher, Jo, practically forced me to eat a couple of her gummy lollies. Within seconds I was feeling warm and recovered. I suspect my blood sugars were bottoming out. The same thing happened to me after the Grape Ride. I don't think it was low cortisol (I'd doubled my usual morning dose). After the lollies and a Subway chicken fillet sub I felt fine.
After the walk back to the stadium for prize giving it occured to me that it wasn't my quads that were sore as such, it was my quad. Specifically it was my right quad, exactly where a huge red and black bruise was now forming. The next day I continued to feel very sore where my leg had impacted with the fence, but the rest of my quads felt fine. By this morning my right ankle and the bottom of my left hamstring were a bit niggly. Otherwise, I've been very pleased with my recovery. I would have run a short recovery run yesterday had it not been for the atrocious weather and a deliberate decision to leave my running gear at home.
In summary then, I expected to know within minutes whether I'd have a race on my hands, and I did. I knew I could make it to the turn-around at my goal pace or less, and I pretty-much did. I theorised that a little energy-drink would help give me a boost, and I'm fairly certain it did. I expected to slow down on the return leg, and I did. I expected to start to crash a bit after an hour and a half, and I did. In retrospect, some jelly-beans or similar would have been good here. I knew that if I could cut down on last year's positive split I would pretty much be guaranteed of a PB. I managed to cut four minutes off last year's return leg, and that was how I achieved the PB. As mentioned earlier, the first 10.5km were run at almost the exact same pace as last year.
In conclusion then, I know I am definitely capable of going sub-two hours. A little more training (including a few more long runs and some speed-work), and slightly more favourable conditions and I'd be targeting 1.55. One day I might even be as fast as my mother-in-law! A quick look at the results today showed me as finishing 49th out of 99 women in my age group. So my place as a mid-pack runner has been firmly cemented. Given that I've spent my whole life finishing last I'll settle for top 50! As life returns to normal this race is doing a lot to boost my confidence in my own abilities.
This morning I got up and did Dee's 6a.m. RPM class. My legs felt ok, though I didn't push the dial too hard. In fact, they felt rather strong. A lunchtime Body Balance was a little more telling though. My hips were very tight and sore and this seemed to lead to a weakness through my core in the ab track and a general decline in my balance poses. It was good to be able to stretch out though.
In the morning I'm getting up early to work out with a colleague, Murray. He teaches Impact at Les Mills, so I know I'm in for some kind of boxing training. I'm looking forward to it. He's intrigued with my reputed pull-up and push-up capabilities, so they may also both be tested. I'm meeting some of my Les Mills running buddies for lunch and I may try to run tomorrow night. I feel quite ridiculously full of energy and I think the race may have led to a little surge in my fitness levels which I'm keen to capitialise on.
Gearshifters starts again on 1 September, at which point it will all be about the bike again. For the next couple of months I want to really push my leg weights to maximise my leg strength. Once I start riding I'll have to ease off again. There are a couple of half marathon options in August, both on fairly flat, fast courses.
Speaking of bikes though, this little darling is currently sitting in Penny Farthings, on sale for just over $1400. How badly do I want her? Oh Lola, I'm ashamed to admit I'd leave behind your big-boned, arthritic Sora componentry behind for this extremely light-weight little baby. Give me some carbon-forked niceness and a little female-specificity! How tragic is it that I lust over a narrow pair of handle-bars and a padded saddle? Plus how sexy is that cream and gold colour scheme? And how cool is it to have a 'genius' bike? I want my bike to have a high IQ ...
Monday, June 23, 2008
Flickr Meme
1. Digging Time, 2. risotto with peas and fava beans, 3. Henderson Waves Bridge, 4. The single best portrait tip ..., 5. duck to duck to duck..., 6. Margarita morada, 7. Nepal India 2005, 8. Raspberry - Swirl Cheesecake, 9. The Earth is God's Canvas., 10. self-discovery, 11. feeling the test of time, 12. Edge 540
Stolen lovingly from Leonie.
a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
b. Using only the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s mosaic maker.
The Questions:
- What is your first name?
- What is your favorite food?
- What high school did you go to?
- What is your favorite color?
- Who is your celebrity crush?
- Favorite drink?
- Dream vacation?
- Favorite dessert?
- What you want to be when you grow up?
- What do you love most in life?
- One word to describe you.
- Your Flickr name
- Phillipa
- Risotto
- Henderson High
- Maroon
- Brad Pitt (Well, at least he used to be. I don't really have a current crush as such)
- Margarita
- Indian Pilgramage
- Cheesecake
- Happy
- Self-discovery
- Persistent
- Pip DG
Read Write Poem: Telling Stories
Another Read Write Poem piece. I'm still a week behind, prompt-wise. This is my response to prompt #31. This prompt is a story about telling a story. I have in mind a poem I would like to rework, so may try that tomorrow so that I can also post a response to prompt #32 this week.
Elephant
He once claimed
to have looked after
a troupe of elephants
in a circus.
Afterwards we were never
sure whether this was a
flight of fancy but
we couldn’t put it
past him.
Our father was the
type of man you could
imagine standing on a
bed of straw, one hand
extended holding peanuts
awaiting a long grey
trunk’s caress.
He was a man who
cared more for intention
than for size. Scale did
not impress him as
much as compassion
and an open mind.
The elephant, an
animal with both a
long memory and a
sense of loyalty
would have appealed
to his nature.
We liked to think of
him, not riding atop
the beast’s great shoulders,
but leading him gently
to a river to drink.
Elephant
He once claimed
to have looked after
a troupe of elephants
in a circus.
Afterwards we were never
sure whether this was a
flight of fancy but
we couldn’t put it
past him.
Our father was the
type of man you could
imagine standing on a
bed of straw, one hand
extended holding peanuts
awaiting a long grey
trunk’s caress.
He was a man who
cared more for intention
than for size. Scale did
not impress him as
much as compassion
and an open mind.
The elephant, an
animal with both a
long memory and a
sense of loyalty
would have appealed
to his nature.
We liked to think of
him, not riding atop
the beast’s great shoulders,
but leading him gently
to a river to drink.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Drawn in
To this meme on Sarah's blog!
Your result for The Which Lolcat Are You? Test...
SurpriseAdoption Cat
44% Affectionate, 71% Excitable, 27% Hungry
Calloused. Heartless. Exuberant. You carry the heavy burden of informing children that they are adopted by jumping out of their birthday cake. A difficult task, but somebody must break the news to children on their only day of happiness.
To see all possible results, checka dis.
To see all possible results, checka dis.
Almost!
Well, I wanted two hours and I got two hours, three minutes. Still a personal best by four minutes. I'm happy. I honestly could not have given anything more today. I was on track and feeling strong for the first thirteen kilometres. The headwind on the return hit me as I knew it would and the last six kilometres hurt a bit. That's what you get when you've only been running a couple of times a week and your longest run has been 15km! With a bit more training and a few longer runs my pace wouldn't have dropped off so badly and I would have been able to make it under two hours easily. Shall we aim for 1.55? Yes, lets ...
Next year can we please not have young children stopping in the middle of the path or falling in front of me, women deciding they have to tie a shoelace RIGHT NOW, RIGHT HERE, and women who decide they need to use the toilet all of a sudden, totally cutting me off as they lurch from right to left. Although I wasn't as irate as the guy seen at the start shoving people aside, or the guy later heard telling people to get the f**k out of the way, I was a little vocal on the numerous occasions I found myself making physical contact with people who just weren't paying attention.
Enough of the negative stuff though. I had a blast today, despite the wind and rain. It was actually warm! It helped that I heard my name being cheered what seemed like every few minutes. Sorry if I didn't see you, but I was in my little head space and wasn't really noticing spectators. Sorry too to Sarah, who was an excellent pacer for the first half of the race. I felt a bit horrible about breathing down her neck. She didn't know I was there until Duck started cheering the both of us outside Freyberg, but then I got close enough that she could hear my slappy feet behind her.
I didn't win an iPod shuffle or a trip to London, but I did win a spot-prize of a pair of Adidas socks. That must be about $30 worth. I think it helps to smile at the people handing out the prize tickets! Last year I won a Runner's World subscription.
Right. I really should have a go at scrubbing off the pace times I wrote on my wrist this morning in permanent marker. It seemed like such a good idea at the time ...
Next year can we please not have young children stopping in the middle of the path or falling in front of me, women deciding they have to tie a shoelace RIGHT NOW, RIGHT HERE, and women who decide they need to use the toilet all of a sudden, totally cutting me off as they lurch from right to left. Although I wasn't as irate as the guy seen at the start shoving people aside, or the guy later heard telling people to get the f**k out of the way, I was a little vocal on the numerous occasions I found myself making physical contact with people who just weren't paying attention.
Enough of the negative stuff though. I had a blast today, despite the wind and rain. It was actually warm! It helped that I heard my name being cheered what seemed like every few minutes. Sorry if I didn't see you, but I was in my little head space and wasn't really noticing spectators. Sorry too to Sarah, who was an excellent pacer for the first half of the race. I felt a bit horrible about breathing down her neck. She didn't know I was there until Duck started cheering the both of us outside Freyberg, but then I got close enough that she could hear my slappy feet behind her.
I didn't win an iPod shuffle or a trip to London, but I did win a spot-prize of a pair of Adidas socks. That must be about $30 worth. I think it helps to smile at the people handing out the prize tickets! Last year I won a Runner's World subscription.
Right. I really should have a go at scrubbing off the pace times I wrote on my wrist this morning in permanent marker. It seemed like such a good idea at the time ...
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Farewell Drinks
Duck's farewell drinks at the Lanes last night. I still suck at bowls, but it turns out I'm not the only one!
The forecast for tomorrow is still looking hasty. There's a cold front on its way up the country. I'm off now to pick up a new pair of socks and some fuel.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
The Good and the Ugly
The good:
- Seven and a half lunchtime kilometres yesterday around the waterfront on a gorgeous Wellington winter day. I ran Garmin-free and used the distance markers to monitor my progress. I have no idea how fast I was going but I know I felt strong. The biggest hurdle on Sunday will be mentally forcing myself to keep pushing for three times as long. I know I'm likely to start to feel a little bit nasty within the first five kilometres. Tough. The problem's mental, not physical. Keep pushing and it will get better within the next couple of kilometres. If it never starts feeling bad then I want to go hard. I don't want to have any reasons for regret.
- Feeling like half of Wellington is running Sunday's race, and being excited about having so many friends out there on the course.
- Duck yanking me off an exercycle this morning and forcing me to go downstairs and take part in the Les Mills wall sit competition. Uh, I ran yesterday and I'd just spent half an hour on a bike and I'm running a race on Sunday. My personal trainer was crazy! Duck, however, insisted and I was dragged down to reception, where a little audience of gym staff amused themselves watching me. The leader had managed to hold a wall sit for seven and a half minutes, the second place holder had sat for seven. There was no way I was beating either of those times! One minute into my sit, however, it was announced that I would win a bottle of wine if I made it to five minutes. The wine was pulled from under reception and placed in front of me. Right then, five minutes it was! Chatting to Duck got me through the first two minutes. From four minutes my legs started shaking. Talking helped. Breathing helped. However by five minutes the pain was intense to say the least. The third-place holder sat for 5.06. Duck counted me to 5.10, and I officially threw in the towel at 5.13. The wine, and third place, were mine. I'm going back next week to break six minutes! Thankfully, although I could barely walk up the stairs back to the gym floor, my quads freed up completely after a copule of good strong quad stretches. Amazing!
- Doing so many pull-ups and one-legged push-ups that I lost count. Doing pull-ups suspended with my body parallel to the floor (legs on a bar), definitely a test of faith in my body-strength. Pulling myself up from the floor into a pull-up without jumping to help myself? Gratifying!
- Getting my hair cut for the first time in months and months. It was shoulder-length, it's now back to chin-length. Plus I have a fringe! Well, kinda. After months of frizz my hair now looks so shiny and thick. The shampoo was miraculous and I even look like I have highlights now. I'm not sure why I ever left my hairdresser to go elsewhere. Oh yes, the cost.
- The forecast for Sunday is for showers and strong winds, gale-force at times. Gaaahhhhhhh!
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