We left cool and rainy Seattle yesterday, where everything is so waterlogged that slugs and other huge, unidentified gelatinous invertebrates attempt to get out of the earth and on to sidewalks, making a simple walk an exercise in goo avoidance. There were some spectacular snails with bright yellow shells, a wealth of ducks and other birds. The place is just gorgeous.


But now we are home and yours truly is in a full fibromyalgia attack, thanks to the plane trip and the change in time zones. Today's training program has been put on hold, but tomorrow is another day, thank God. My mental fog is such that when I went to the store, planning to stock up on meats, I got everything but. It doesn't matter that much since we are having crispy baked shrimp á la Jamie Oliver, however, as I said, tomorrow is another day...at the store. Off I go now to soothe my aching self with a good dose of Advil and to unpack my nifty running clothes, á la Target.

The Slug

Today was the first time I had to run by distance instead of time, and it's a darned good thing I was practically at sea level and in cool weather. It got to the point where the gorgeous surroundings weren't going to be enough to get me through it, and my mental game really began to go off the rails--an exciting fantasy of shooting a couple of narco hitmen with my .38 Special kicked in when I was, unfortunately, heading uphill, and I found myself zipping along and spending all my energy on the upgrade instead of cruising easily and zipping dowhill instead. Alarmed at my poor hill-running strategy, I immediately turned to a perusal of favorite recipes, which slowed me down, but reminded me of how horribly hungry I was. Visions of macadamia nut pancakes began to drift through my mind, so as I battled to find some sort of internal pep talk that wouldn't sink me, I noticed this poor slug trying to slime its way across the sidewalk.


"Go for it, oh fellow creature," I thought, "I think we're in the same league."


On my second kilometer lap, I was appalled to notice that the slug, biological differences taken into account, was actually doing better than I was. At that point, though, I was worried about how to talk myself into believing I was two-thirds into my distance goal, which was going to take some creative math, sort of like the creative financial math used by the CFOs of some recently notorious banking institutions.

On the final lap, when my only objective was survival, leavened by a certain sense of smugness as I realized I was really going to be able to do this, I noticed that the blighted slug had completed the equivalent of a slug marathon while I only wanted to reach the parked car that indicated the finish line of my struggles--having done a mere three Ks with a short walk between one K and the next. The whole weight of psychoanalytic theory about the death instinct and Kleinian envy rushed to my mind and created an intellectual excitement. As a result, I didn't step on the damned thing in a spasm of resentment.

My footnote is that I may never walk again; every part of me aches--except, not to put too fine a point on it, my knees--and also, this computer loaned to me by my daughter-in-law does not have the Hal curse!!!

The glories of Seattle...

Ah, yes, near sea level and working out as if one were really good at it! All that oxygen! All that cool weather! Even getting rained on! After the horrors of hot, dry, wildfire-cursed, and dusty Monterrey, this is fabulous--beautiful trees, wooden tubs filled with blooming tulips, flowering cherry trees, and everyone and his uncle outside running. Well-behaved dogs, too. It feels strange to be in civilization....

This weekend my training group goes for the triathlon. It's hard for me to believe the human body can do that, but after reading about Wendy's incredible barefoot race on her blog, it is evident we underestimate what we can do even before we've tried anything. There is a lesson here, but precious few will have the intestinal fortitude to put it into action. Nuff said.

On to Seattle

Today was a disaster. Since I couldn't train yesterday I decided to finish Monday's program this morning, especially since tomorrow will be a long travel day with no movement to speak of. After a very bad night's sleep, I was appalled to discover I could only get through half the routine, which usually is easy enough when done completely. My exhaustion was total, and I didn't recover until after lunch. Could it be a calorie thing? The other possibility is that I have had a protein complement for the last two days, and it seems to be making me feel bad. Either I feel bad because it's just time for a fibro attack, or there is something about the complement that I need to stop having. Oh well. It's on to Seattle and cool weather, minus the protein, and we'll play it by ear......Could that massive dose of chocolate ice cream from last night have anything to do with it??? Naaaah.....'course not!

Forest fire

Today I was supposed to go to our most popular eco-reserve to train (at a walk) over uneven ground, but yesterday a forest fire began there, putting the whole reserve at risk. Several years ago, the reserve was practically consumed by a fire but was restored at huge expense; it is a haven for black bears, among other species. The fire is visible from my front porch. If someone started this fire in a burst of vandalism, may he burn in Hell. Meanwhile, I'll cross-train today and hope the fire can be contained. Otherwise, people are going to have black bears in their back yards soon. It's happened before.

Today, like many days, I get up and think there is no way I can drag myself out to train. But I get dressed and go. The idea of losing a day and sliding backward slowly but surely is my main motivation. Adrián told me on Tuesday that by August I will be doing a 5K in 25 minutes. That is a decent average time for any beginner. Where in the world does he get this stuff???

The Evaluation

After my training routine today, Adrián said it was time for me to use my heart monitor again because he wants to evaluate my performance.-----------------------------------------------------------------"What do you mean, evaluate my performance? What do I have to do?"------------------------"Well, you check your heart rate as you do 10 minutes at an easy trot, then you recover, then you do 10 minutes at a moderate trot, you recover, then you do 10 minutes of running, and we'll see if your heart is hitting its training rate often enough."-------------------------------------"When are we going to do this?" I asked, wondering if I could arrange to leave the country in time. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------"Oh, next week, probably Tuesday, how does that seem to you?"--------------------------------"HA!!!" I howled, "I will be in Seattle next week!!!"----------------------------------------------If I thought this was putting paid to the matter, I was mistaken. Adrián simply put the whole thing off a single week until I get back. My heart, and its rate, sank. I could hack the easy trot, the moderate trot for 10 minutes seems undoable, and the idea of running for 10 minutes is frankly insane. There was a moment or two when Adrián's voice tapered off as he mentioned the ten-minute run, as if it even occurred to him that the idea bordered on pyschosis. Well, I have that week in Seattle to keep working, along with the ghastly uphill phases of the running path near my son's home. I think I'd better start practicing. Doesn't this guy know how old I am???