Today I set out without my watch or my Polar monitor, and without my glasses. After warm-up, I set myself a slow, steady trotting pace and concentrated only on maintaining it consistently. And folks, believe it or not, I did 5K today without gasping for air or wondering if my toes were falling off. The circuit including seven sprints as I outran cars and passed clots of strollers and runners coming from the opposite direction. It included four up-hill sections as I trotted over the pedestrian bridges coming and going. At about 4.2 K, I was beginning to feel it a bit, but at 4.5, I knew it was a done deal.
When I say a slow, steady pace, I mean that twice people who were walking actually passed me. They were walking at a good clip and one person had a large dog who was pulling him along. But who cares? Not me! 5K!!!
lunes, 6 de junio de 2011
The Long Walk
Yesterday was a rest day for me in my training schedule, but since I missed three days in a fibro attack, I decided I couldn't afford to do nothing at all. I went out and did a lively walk the 5 kilometers on the running path (which is marked at each kilometer and half kilometer, which either encourages you or sinks your spirits forever, depending on where you are and how tired you are...). We have a series of winding bridges, very attractive, that go over a major street intersection and which are incorporated into the running path. They are shaded by large trees, making the area hugely pleasant. During my walk, I decided that for once I was going to try to trot uphill on those bridges, and to my amazement I did it without even feeling it. That was the positive part--my physical condition is improving beyond my expectations.
But the walk itself was torture. When I trot, nothing hurts, but when I walk everything does. Don't ask me why because it is a mystery. For the rest of the day the only thing on my body that didn't ache was--guess!!!!--my knees. But these training walks are important. They work the legs and knees differently because at least in my case one doesn't strike the ground with the same stride. Unfortunately, today's training program has turned out to be the walk I did yesterday, so for once I'm a day ahead of the game instead of two days behind!
Breaking news: One of my virtual running pals was right--Ski Pole lady is practicing Nordic walking. I have been saying hello to her now for several days, so yesterday I asked her if that is what she is doing. She seemed thrilled that someone knew what her activity was, too. She is a very nice woman, too, with a lovely smile and very upbeat. Just goes to show there are friends everywhere if you can look for them. If for no other reason, running has been worth it just to meet so many happy people!
But the walk itself was torture. When I trot, nothing hurts, but when I walk everything does. Don't ask me why because it is a mystery. For the rest of the day the only thing on my body that didn't ache was--guess!!!!--my knees. But these training walks are important. They work the legs and knees differently because at least in my case one doesn't strike the ground with the same stride. Unfortunately, today's training program has turned out to be the walk I did yesterday, so for once I'm a day ahead of the game instead of two days behind!
Breaking news: One of my virtual running pals was right--Ski Pole lady is practicing Nordic walking. I have been saying hello to her now for several days, so yesterday I asked her if that is what she is doing. She seemed thrilled that someone knew what her activity was, too. She is a very nice woman, too, with a lovely smile and very upbeat. Just goes to show there are friends everywhere if you can look for them. If for no other reason, running has been worth it just to meet so many happy people!
sábado, 4 de junio de 2011
Back on track, at least temporarily...
After three days of a fibro flare, and in fact three weeks of feeling less than what nowadays goes for optimum, I was back in the park. There was a lovely cool breeze blowing even though it will be fairly hot later today.
There are two kinds of runners that can really get your goat: there are those who come pounding along and practically shove you off the path. These are not the Pounders, those runners you can hear from two blocks away. These latter tend to run in tight groups, and if one should trip and fall, they are all going down en masse. Your only concern is getting out of the way by leaping to one side. No, I mean those runners who simply don't care if you are there or not, it is your duty to get out of the way. I've seen one of these jerks almost hit a very elderly woman who was walking by the edge of the path, and today I got brushed by another of the cretins who mistakenly thought I was simply going to step off the path altogether. I warned Adrián that one of these days I was going to stick my leg out and trip one of them.
The other kind of runner that disgusts me is the group that spits on the path. I happen to think that spitting in public is primitive anyway, but to do so on a running path is an act of covert aggression. There aren't many of either kind of runner; most people are upbeat, courteous, and happy to be there enjoying themselves. One cannot identify the spitters, either, because all you come across is the result of their behavior, since the offender has long gone. Phooey!
Narcissus Corner, however, almost makes up for it. Here is where all the show-offs congregate to lift those ghastly weights and to do chin-ups on the monkey bars. This morning the machos were having a chin-up competition, so each competitor didn't have to look around nonchalantly to see if he was being noticed because all of them were there watching each other. It must have been macho heaven. This is one of the best shows on the running path, so more power to 'em.
Stay tuned, folks.
There are two kinds of runners that can really get your goat: there are those who come pounding along and practically shove you off the path. These are not the Pounders, those runners you can hear from two blocks away. These latter tend to run in tight groups, and if one should trip and fall, they are all going down en masse. Your only concern is getting out of the way by leaping to one side. No, I mean those runners who simply don't care if you are there or not, it is your duty to get out of the way. I've seen one of these jerks almost hit a very elderly woman who was walking by the edge of the path, and today I got brushed by another of the cretins who mistakenly thought I was simply going to step off the path altogether. I warned Adrián that one of these days I was going to stick my leg out and trip one of them.
The other kind of runner that disgusts me is the group that spits on the path. I happen to think that spitting in public is primitive anyway, but to do so on a running path is an act of covert aggression. There aren't many of either kind of runner; most people are upbeat, courteous, and happy to be there enjoying themselves. One cannot identify the spitters, either, because all you come across is the result of their behavior, since the offender has long gone. Phooey!
Narcissus Corner, however, almost makes up for it. Here is where all the show-offs congregate to lift those ghastly weights and to do chin-ups on the monkey bars. This morning the machos were having a chin-up competition, so each competitor didn't have to look around nonchalantly to see if he was being noticed because all of them were there watching each other. It must have been macho heaven. This is one of the best shows on the running path, so more power to 'em.
Stay tuned, folks.
martes, 31 de mayo de 2011
Rural Quietude
After today's training, which seemed particularly grueling even with other members of my training group yelling encouragement as they passed me, my husband and I took off for our quinta (a small country place) in the orange-growing region to the south of the city.
Since I had already given myself today's dose of physical abuse, I decided not to ride. It would have taken up too much time to jerry-rig a pulley-and-crane system to haul me aboard Bandolero, so I gave him his carrots--that's all he thinks I'm good for anyway, supplying carrots and fawning over him idiotically.
I don't know what comes to your mind when you think "countryside". Perhaps a green, gently rolling English meadow framed by hedgerows and harboring some placid, fat sheep. Or those endless amber waves of grain in the U.S. heartland. Or even the rough, mesquite-infested ranchlands in the Texas hill country. But I'll bet my Asics yet again that you don't imagine a place where the decibel level drives you indoors.
My husband and I settled comfortably on the porch in lawn chairs, a gentle breeze blowing; he had some work to do, and I planned to slip into a comatose state. It was not to be.
Suddenly the cicadas fired up, and it sounded like chain saws at a major logging facility.
"Good grief!!" roared my husband over the din. I knew he was saying something else because I could see his mouth move. He gathered his papers and beat a retreat into the house.
The din came in waves, falling off to a serenade similar to the sound of Italian motorbikes on a busy Rome street. During the relative lulls, the rest of the noise could be heard: birds that chirped, cawed, whistled, crowed, gobbled or screamed. There were sounds I couldn't identify--an odd hooning, and some sort of monotonous animal call. Once in a while, a goat bleated.
Maybe it's the drought that has affected the insects, but we couldn't remember this level of racket during other springtimes when sudden showers would discourage the cicada madness. There was one memorable rainstorm after which the frogs and toads came out in such numbers you couldn't hear yourself think and you couldn't find a clear piece of ground to step on. The only other time we had experienced such an invasion was during a vacation in Hawaii--we were trying to play tennis and had to take "toad breaks" to push the little devils off the court.
I'm indoors now and the cicadas are just a distant whine. This has been one of those days when I can't help wondering if a major rain isn't on its way--hope really does spring eternal--because this decibel level isn't normal. But no matter. If the cicadas don't get us, the toads will.
Since I had already given myself today's dose of physical abuse, I decided not to ride. It would have taken up too much time to jerry-rig a pulley-and-crane system to haul me aboard Bandolero, so I gave him his carrots--that's all he thinks I'm good for anyway, supplying carrots and fawning over him idiotically.
I don't know what comes to your mind when you think "countryside". Perhaps a green, gently rolling English meadow framed by hedgerows and harboring some placid, fat sheep. Or those endless amber waves of grain in the U.S. heartland. Or even the rough, mesquite-infested ranchlands in the Texas hill country. But I'll bet my Asics yet again that you don't imagine a place where the decibel level drives you indoors.
My husband and I settled comfortably on the porch in lawn chairs, a gentle breeze blowing; he had some work to do, and I planned to slip into a comatose state. It was not to be.
Suddenly the cicadas fired up, and it sounded like chain saws at a major logging facility.
"Good grief!!" roared my husband over the din. I knew he was saying something else because I could see his mouth move. He gathered his papers and beat a retreat into the house.
The din came in waves, falling off to a serenade similar to the sound of Italian motorbikes on a busy Rome street. During the relative lulls, the rest of the noise could be heard: birds that chirped, cawed, whistled, crowed, gobbled or screamed. There were sounds I couldn't identify--an odd hooning, and some sort of monotonous animal call. Once in a while, a goat bleated.
Maybe it's the drought that has affected the insects, but we couldn't remember this level of racket during other springtimes when sudden showers would discourage the cicada madness. There was one memorable rainstorm after which the frogs and toads came out in such numbers you couldn't hear yourself think and you couldn't find a clear piece of ground to step on. The only other time we had experienced such an invasion was during a vacation in Hawaii--we were trying to play tennis and had to take "toad breaks" to push the little devils off the court.
I'm indoors now and the cicadas are just a distant whine. This has been one of those days when I can't help wondering if a major rain isn't on its way--hope really does spring eternal--because this decibel level isn't normal. But no matter. If the cicadas don't get us, the toads will.
lunes, 30 de mayo de 2011
On a cool day
Today dawned cloudy, cooler, with a slight northern breeze. At seven a.m. the park was filled with strollers and runners of all ages, and as our weather heats up, it gets more and more crowded in the mornings. My horse vet and my ENT doctor both say that if they can't get out to run in the morning, then that's it; the afternoons are like Hell's waiting room.
Not to overdo it, I did an easy kilometer trot, then a short walk, then another K trot, then a long walk. These moderate sessions are always entertaining because I have time to watch other people. Today brought home some important lessons which I was fortunate enough to learn before I even began this adventure, thanks to Rodrigo and Hernán:
1-Your tendons, joints, and ligaments train up a lot slower than your muscles and cardiopulmonary system. If you don't start learning to run slowly, you will end fast.
2-If you don't get the right shoes for your feet, you will be injured right out of the starting gate. You can decide whether to spend the money on a sports medicine expert from the outset in order to evaluate your feet, or to spend money and lots of time on the injury you may get by going it solo.
3-You may not need a trainer, but you definitely need some kind of good running book that has training schedules and advice for beginners and advanced runners alike. You need specialized books and support from informed runners if you plan to run barefooted.
The reason I thought about these lessons today was because there was a young man on the running path who seemed determined to destroy every joint in his legs. He was overweight and wearing shoes with no cushioning whatsoever. The shoes did not look like running shoes at all, in fact, and were probably built for some other sport. As he pounded toward me from the opposite direction, then passed me, I turned to look at him and was appalled to see he was wearing a backpack which was obviously loaded. What was this young man thinking? Was he unsatisfied with the large amount of extra weight he was carrying in the form of fat and felt he needed to pile on more? Was he hoping to lose weight faster by torturing his joints this way? It occurred to me that maybe he had begun running to lose weight and had fallen into the calorie consumption perception trap: one tends to overestimate the calories used up in exercise and underestimate the calories consumed. That's because after you have struggled, gasped, agonized, and forced yourself through an exercise session, you just can't believe how few calories you have actually used up.
My running book has some very good advice for people who run exclusively to lose weight: Don't. Find other reasons. Run because it gives you a psychological lift that lasts all day. Run because it increases your immune system. Run because you enjoy the outdoors, the company of others or the solitude of a lone run. Do it because you want to improve your over-all health. Do it because it is the time of day that belongs only to you, an activity that you dedicate just to yourself and to no one else. You may lose weight while doing it, but if that is your only reason, you will miss out on so many other things.
Not to overdo it, I did an easy kilometer trot, then a short walk, then another K trot, then a long walk. These moderate sessions are always entertaining because I have time to watch other people. Today brought home some important lessons which I was fortunate enough to learn before I even began this adventure, thanks to Rodrigo and Hernán:
1-Your tendons, joints, and ligaments train up a lot slower than your muscles and cardiopulmonary system. If you don't start learning to run slowly, you will end fast.
2-If you don't get the right shoes for your feet, you will be injured right out of the starting gate. You can decide whether to spend the money on a sports medicine expert from the outset in order to evaluate your feet, or to spend money and lots of time on the injury you may get by going it solo.
3-You may not need a trainer, but you definitely need some kind of good running book that has training schedules and advice for beginners and advanced runners alike. You need specialized books and support from informed runners if you plan to run barefooted.
The reason I thought about these lessons today was because there was a young man on the running path who seemed determined to destroy every joint in his legs. He was overweight and wearing shoes with no cushioning whatsoever. The shoes did not look like running shoes at all, in fact, and were probably built for some other sport. As he pounded toward me from the opposite direction, then passed me, I turned to look at him and was appalled to see he was wearing a backpack which was obviously loaded. What was this young man thinking? Was he unsatisfied with the large amount of extra weight he was carrying in the form of fat and felt he needed to pile on more? Was he hoping to lose weight faster by torturing his joints this way? It occurred to me that maybe he had begun running to lose weight and had fallen into the calorie consumption perception trap: one tends to overestimate the calories used up in exercise and underestimate the calories consumed. That's because after you have struggled, gasped, agonized, and forced yourself through an exercise session, you just can't believe how few calories you have actually used up.
My running book has some very good advice for people who run exclusively to lose weight: Don't. Find other reasons. Run because it gives you a psychological lift that lasts all day. Run because it increases your immune system. Run because you enjoy the outdoors, the company of others or the solitude of a lone run. Do it because you want to improve your over-all health. Do it because it is the time of day that belongs only to you, an activity that you dedicate just to yourself and to no one else. You may lose weight while doing it, but if that is your only reason, you will miss out on so many other things.
domingo, 29 de mayo de 2011
Our miserable weather
The past two mornings have been unbelievably hot and humid--where the humidity is coming from is any man's guess because once more we are rainless and cooking under the sun. My fibro has kicked in big time, so I have stayed at home hoping that Monday will bring renewed energy, or something.
One of my cyber running pals has commented that I should enter a race, that surely people will be walking the 5K and I won't come in last. On the other hand, coming in last is rough work, and someone's got to do it, so maybe I should go ahead and find out what it's like to be in a race. All I can say is, if the weather keeps up like this, a race is almost out of the question. It's possible my body simply isn't acclimated to the combination heat-exercise; we'll see. Stay tuned.
One of my cyber running pals has commented that I should enter a race, that surely people will be walking the 5K and I won't come in last. On the other hand, coming in last is rough work, and someone's got to do it, so maybe I should go ahead and find out what it's like to be in a race. All I can say is, if the weather keeps up like this, a race is almost out of the question. It's possible my body simply isn't acclimated to the combination heat-exercise; we'll see. Stay tuned.
viernes, 27 de mayo de 2011
Even the flat seems uphill...
The minute I woke up this morning and started to leave the bed, I heard a voice:
"What are you doing???"
"Well, after some coffee, I thought I'd go out and try to train..." I replied with a certain hesitation.
"My God, you must be mad! There is no better excuse than fibromyalgia for staying in a prone position!"
By this time, I realized the voice was my body, trying to get me to lie down again, or at least to watch the news on television. It was touch and go there for about half an hour as my body pulled in one direction and my weakened determination in another, but since the training routine for today was an easy one (ten minutes running, five walking, repeated twice), my flabby determination won out, but just barely.
By this time it was seven o'clock and the park was packed to the rafters. But off I went, cutting off a whole minute from my one kilometer time. Big deal. Nine minutes instead of ten! I'm still going to win the bet with Adrián.
It seemed to me like there was a weird crew out this morning. There were some very, very old men, considerably overweight, who looked like they really shouldn't be out in this heat. There was an old gal who looked at me with the most horrific scowl, as if she might be furious with me for being there; on the other hand, she looked at everyone that way. There was a guy I recognized from a few years ago; he had become incensed because I was walking my dogs and said I couldn't take them to the park because they would poop on the path. When I tried to explain that my dogs were trained only to poop in their own back yard or on grass, he would not even listen. I told him he needed a dermatologist, a barber, and a shrink, and I left him fuming while I continued my walk. He must not have recognized me today because he smiled, but I looked at him as if seeing a cockroach on a cake. He probably went home and told his wife that there was a really weird bunch of runners out this morning.
These are the days that I feel best about, because they are so hard. Every fiber of me wanted to do absolutely nothing, but as I managed to find a groove during the first ten minutes of my run, I realized I might manage to make it through. The second ten minutes were uphill even on the flat, perhaps because I had my long distance glasses on and misread my watch, adding an extra ten minutes to my run before I realized my mistake just in time not to actually run them. There is no way I am going to enter some race at this point, however...
"What are you doing???"
"Well, after some coffee, I thought I'd go out and try to train..." I replied with a certain hesitation.
"My God, you must be mad! There is no better excuse than fibromyalgia for staying in a prone position!"
By this time, I realized the voice was my body, trying to get me to lie down again, or at least to watch the news on television. It was touch and go there for about half an hour as my body pulled in one direction and my weakened determination in another, but since the training routine for today was an easy one (ten minutes running, five walking, repeated twice), my flabby determination won out, but just barely.
By this time it was seven o'clock and the park was packed to the rafters. But off I went, cutting off a whole minute from my one kilometer time. Big deal. Nine minutes instead of ten! I'm still going to win the bet with Adrián.
It seemed to me like there was a weird crew out this morning. There were some very, very old men, considerably overweight, who looked like they really shouldn't be out in this heat. There was an old gal who looked at me with the most horrific scowl, as if she might be furious with me for being there; on the other hand, she looked at everyone that way. There was a guy I recognized from a few years ago; he had become incensed because I was walking my dogs and said I couldn't take them to the park because they would poop on the path. When I tried to explain that my dogs were trained only to poop in their own back yard or on grass, he would not even listen. I told him he needed a dermatologist, a barber, and a shrink, and I left him fuming while I continued my walk. He must not have recognized me today because he smiled, but I looked at him as if seeing a cockroach on a cake. He probably went home and told his wife that there was a really weird bunch of runners out this morning.
These are the days that I feel best about, because they are so hard. Every fiber of me wanted to do absolutely nothing, but as I managed to find a groove during the first ten minutes of my run, I realized I might manage to make it through. The second ten minutes were uphill even on the flat, perhaps because I had my long distance glasses on and misread my watch, adding an extra ten minutes to my run before I realized my mistake just in time not to actually run them. There is no way I am going to enter some race at this point, however...
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