Controlling the controllables

Want to get mentally stronger? Try running on an 80+ degree day in 80+% humidity while pushing a running stroller carrying a two-and-a-half-year-old tornado who passes the time by alternating between randomly demanding a change of direction ("Go that way, Mommy!" while pointing vehemently at a stranger's driveway) and saying things like, "Get out!" (meaning I don't want to be in this stroller any longer) and "Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?" (followed by not actually saying anything when request for my attention is acknowledged).

The complaining started a mile and a half in. Ruby objected to my turning the stroller around to head back towards home and wanted to play in the "Ruby park." It's her adorable phrase for any swing set that she sees. While huffing and puffing my way through the next quarter mile, I didn't have the energy to explain for the 900th time that we can't just go up to a stranger's house and climb on their swing set. So, "Nope," was all she got out of me. This, understandably, frustrated her. However, having had this conversation 899 times before, I didn't think a longer conversation would result in anything other than that same frustration, and I'd be more out of breath. So I took the shorter path to her frustration, and just uttered a, "nope."

Another quarter of a mile down the road, and the "Get out!" began.  I reassured Ruby that we would be home shortly. So then the "Get out!" was followed by, "No, no go home!" Hmmm. No one ever said 2 1/2 year olds were logical. She wanted to not be in the stroller and not go home, but we were in the middle of a country road between a soy field and a hay field. How would getting out help? I felt my pulse pick up a bit. Probably my blood pressure, too. I was getting frustrated. I was trying to run in this miserable heat and counter an illogical two-year-old with logic. This wasn't going well.

With a half mile to go to get home, the one thought that clicked in my head was that I was the control here. If I was going to finish the run strong, that was up to me. If I was going to finish the run frustrated, that was up to me. Ruby was going to do what Ruby was going to do, and I was going to choose how to react. The distance to home wasn't changing. I say all the time that I need to control the controllables, but here I was letting the controllables control me.

I put myself in a parenting time out. I slowed up the pace. I apologized to Ruby for having snapped at her when she started with the whining (my less-than-proud parenting moment), and I finished out the run. Lesson re-learned for the day.

Corn? Cattle Prices? Dry heat, please...

I got out the door at 5:40 this morning to do a quick three miles before my husband had to head off to work. I had resolved that I wouldn't run anything shorter than 4, but the clock got me this morning. So I ran a "fast" three early.

I get that we need rain. Drought is a bad, bad thing. It kills crops. Farmers sell off their cattle. It drives up the cost of food. But let's look at it from a glass half-full perspective--we don't have to mow the grass as often. Okay, that's it for a list. Not mowing the lawn is good. From a runner's perspective, though, the dry heat at the beginning of the summer was awesome. Maybe those Arizona folks are on to something.

I stepped out the door, and my first thought was, "Oh, scheisse. It's 80 degrees already." Just go.

I don't like having a time limit for my runs, but I was very aware of my husband's need to get out the door for work, so I needed to go. My legs felt stiff. My shoes felt heavy. My steps were a shuffle.

A quarter mile in, and my mind started to click. Every now and again, I would get a slight breeze coming off the soybean fields, and then a ten degree change two steps later that would take my breath away. I stopped thinking about my legs, my feet, my lungs. I started thinking about staying loose.

Three miles. One car. Two workmen at a church up the road. And just me and the road. What a great way to start the day. I do miss the dry heat. Time for coffee.

1500 steps...5:00 a.m. Ouch. And awesome.

RGB got me up at 3:30 this morning in her usual wake-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-and-torture-mama-routine, and at that point, it was not in my best interest to go back to sleep if I wanted to make it to the 5:00 a.m. stadium runs. So thanks to RGB, I had plenty of time to get my stuff together, get my butt in the car, and make the 30-minute drive to the stadium. Much better than last time when I was doing the fastest tri transition ever. In the dark. On no sleep. Move on, Kim.

I went in this morning determined. I was going to go down and back through those stadium stairs. I didn't count every stair, but I did do some math (before I got too tired to do so...see earlier post on fatigues and runs) after counting one set, and the total up and down would be 1500. 750 up. 750 down. Give or take a few.

I was drenched by the third set of stairs; the humidity was high. I was rethinking my goal with four sets of stairs (300 steps) to go, but I did make it down and back. The .44 miles on the stairs took me 25 minutes (with sets of push-ups on each of the downs thrown in). But I kept reminding myself that speed wasn't the point.

And the reward was four laps on the stadium grass in my bare feet. I swear, that's like a drug to me. Next week, I'm going earlier so that I can get started earlier and get to the grass more quickly.

The week? I had a great long run on Sunday. Ran 8. Ran the first six without a break. Haven't done that in who knows when. Had a good, fast, short ride on Saturday and averaged over 16 mph for the first time in quite a while. Ran a solid four on Friday night. Ran a solid five on Thursday night. A couple of other workouts thrown in there. Decent week.

I'm reading back through this post and I'm not impressed, so I ask that you re-read my first line again. 3:30 a.m. No nap today. Sigh. Try again tomorrow.

Beginning at the end

I sunk down into the coldest tub of water I could handle at the end of my ride yesterday. Actually, short of adding ice to the water, I couldn't have gotten it any colder. I kept running my hand under the water coming out of the faucet wondering if I had turned on the wrong one. In reality, I was just that hot. How'd I end up there?

I rode part of the bike route that I used to ride when I was training for Ironman Wisconsin. I have not gone over 20 miles on my bike in recent memory, so doing a 33 mile ride was going to be a stretch, but I thought that if I would just soft pedal if I started to struggle, I'd be fine. I ride a bike with a triple chainring, and I seldom let myself use the smallest of the three, so I figured I had that, too. It would be fine. 

And everything was fine. For most of the ride. Up until a certain point. I rode well through Mammoth Cave National Park. I took on a couple of 5-minute climbs and felt really great about how those went. I was taking in calories in the form of peanut butter pretzels and gel and gatorade mixed with water. I had a few run-ins with cars, but I'll save my ranting about vehicles for a post dedicated to ranting. (But just to interject here, if you have to force a car coming in the opposite direction off the road in order to pass a cyclist, you need to just hit your brakes, for the love.) 

My first stop on the ride came in Park City, KY. It's a far cry from Park City, Utah. Here's the view from my stop:

Yep. So you can tell that I was pretty tired because I stopped here. At this spot. After rolling through beautiful Mammoth Cave National Park, this is where I chose to pull over. I wanted to give my toes a break. My shoes were killing me. I wanted to regroup before I headed into some rollers, and I wanted to assess my calorie situation. Regrouping done, I resolved to soft-pedal. I was starting to feel the heat. How bad could it be? 

I hit some gorgeous green spots. Check out this road:

and I was doing okay until about two minutes after stopping to take this picture. I rolled up on a house that I haven't been past since I last rode the route. And when I last rode the route, they had a dog. I remembered that. I got past the first driveway of the house, and that's when I heard him. Man, he was huge. And charging. And barking. And showing his teeth. I was yelling, pedaling all over the road, telling him to go home, and trying to decide if I was going to have to jump off my bike to try to put my bike between me and the dog. The confrontation lasted probably less than 20 seconds, but my heart rate took a heck of a lot longer to come down, and any energy I had been conserving for the last five or six miles of the ride home was shot. And I still had this hill to climb:

The picture doesn't really do it justice because it's a much sharper climb than I think this shows. But I was riding into Rocky Hill, and I kept telling myself to remember that they named it that for a reason. These aren't mountains, but they are little rollers with a little out-of-the-seat climbing required now and again. On an 80 degree day, this would not have been a challenge. On this 104 degree day, this was looking pretty tough.

After pushing my way through Rocky Hill, I stopped again. I called my husband to let him know that I was about five miles out from home and doing okay but that I was hurting. Too hot. Legs were shot. Looking back now, I was probably just pushing the edge of the call I've never, ever made: "Come pick me up." I gave myself a few minutes more in the shade and headed on. Two more good climbs ahead.

I hit the first climb, and when I needed to stand up out of my saddle, I got off my bike. Yep, I did it. I walked my bike up that hill. In the ditch. I was thinking that the most important thing at this point was to make it home and that killing myself on that hill was not going to have any physical benefit at all. I was probably being a bit melodramatic, but I was also just so damn hot.

Made it up the second climb and was grateful that my dog friend at that house decided to stay home. You might remember him from my 20 mile run; he accompanied me for several of those miles.

And then I was home. And in the bathtub. And feeling okay sitting in freezing cold water.

I don't know what I was thinking. I know better than to add 33% mileage, even if it is on a bike ride and not a run. And I know better than to ride that far on those hills in that heat. I KNOW better. I've felt wasted all day today. I didn't get up for the 5:00 stadium runs this morning because I knew I needed the rest. I was sad to miss running on that fantastic field, though.

So I'm feeling like I don't want to ride my bike ever again, but I think I'll go out in a couple of days with a friend from my running group. And I'll get back into it. And I'll enjoy it. And next time, I'll at least pack more peanut butter crackers.

Flying by the seat...the swim, the bike, and the run

The swim
I got to swim one night this week, and I'm headed back today for a 3K yard swim. I was psyched to get to share a lane this week with a random guy named Drew who is racing the Muncie Endurathon this weekend and then the Louisville Ironman next month. On the Ironman, I gave him one piece of advice--don't forget that it's supposed to be fun. Even when you are miserable, it's fun. Dammit. That's why we do this stuff. I think he thought I was nuts.


I took this picture of the locker room at my pool because I continue to be blown away by the stupid, stupid, stupid design. I was concerned someone might think I was a perv when I was taking the picture, so it was a quick pic. Have I ranted about this before? I'll make a quick list.
1. These lockers are the only lockers they have, and they are only for swim-team members. So people with memberships at the pool can't use the lockers and have to haul all their stuff out to the pool deck every time they swim.
2. This is actually what you see when you open the door from the toilets. So if you happen to be naked when Joe Schmoe opens the door, tough luck.
3. Fortunately for you, you probably won't be spending any time in front of these lockers because there isn't a bench. The only bench is on the other side of these lockers.
4. And there's no private changing area unless you want to tuck into the handicap-accessible shower. I don't mind being naked in front of other people, but I remember being horrified when I was in middle school and would see someone else naked. I'm not out to horrify anyone.
5. The toilets are actually outside of the locker room and are used by both swimmers and the general public. So if you are coming in off the street and want to use the toilets, chances are you are going to have a wet, wet butt because some hapless swimmer has been in the toilets before you.

Those are my top five. I could also write about how the lifeguards always seem to want to clean something when I'm swimming and the fumes seem to mix with the chlorine making me want to gag, but that's actually in the pool.

The bike
The sun probably tells the story, but it has been a great week for cycling. I rode on the 4th and followed it with a two-mile run, and I was surprised at how great it felt. A brick. A BRICK for crying out loud. But I miss my tri bike.

I need to get the ride in for a tune-up, but I don't have a back-up bike besides my beach cruiser, so I have a hard time making the time to drop it off. There is bird poo on my handlebar tape. And duct tape because the tape was coming off, and I didn't know how to fix it. No wonder I got dropped on a  group ride a week and a half ago; who can take a girl seriously when she has bird poo and duct tape on her bike?

The run
I now walk out the door to do my runs and tell my husband that I'm going to go see what the neighbors are up to. Why? Two days after the run-in with the teenagers at that house, I was out for my morning run and came up on the house to see a girl coming from around the side of the house to let herself in the front door...wearing only a thong and a tank top. Yes. I saw her ass. We did not make eye contact.

I ran a fast three yesterday morning, and I was fired up by my splits. When I first got home and checked my watch, I thought it hadn't gone that well, but I'm an idiot with math at 6:00 in the morning when I've just finished a run. When I plugged the numbers into the computer, I was really pleased with how well it went. Finally.

Up next
Swim today. Long run tomorrow. Bike on Sunday of the tri course I'm thinking about doing.

Three-a-days (running, swimming, and mom hood)

Pillow talk with my husband last night revolved around my fantasy of getting in two workouts today. I wanted to get up at 4:15 a.m. to leave the house by 4:30 to get to WKU stadium by 5:00 to do a "stadium run" workout with the folks from the local running store. Then, I wanted to do a swim workout when my husband got home from work and could take over the Ruby duties. Two-a-days make me happy (as do six-hour bike rides and runs that require refilling the Camelback), and I just don't get to do them as often as I would like--much less frequently since having Ruby. So hubby and I agreed on the logistics, and we headed to bed.

Then parenthood struck. Ruby had gone to bed at 8:00, and her first wake-up call for me was at about 11:30. Ruby-wake-up calls generally involve Kevin getting her something to drink and me climbing into her big-girl bed with her to get her back to sleep. I'm not sure my climbing into bed with her is as much about her as it is about me just wanting to get horizontal and to get my world quiet in the fastest way possible. I was back in our bed by about 12:30, and I remember feeling relief that we had gotten the wake-up over with so early. Phew.

4:09 a.m. "Mommy?" You have got to be kidding me. My alarm was set for 4:15, and Ruby was up again at 4:09. Scheisse.

I went to her room. Did a quick diaper change. Got her settled down in her bed again. Curled up next to her and waited for her to roll on her side--the sure sign that I am home free. Clicked on my Timex: 4:17. Crap. Two minutes gone that I could have been eating toast and a banana.

(Change to present-tense to share my real-time thinking.)
4:23. If she falls asleep now, I can still grab a banana, brush my teeth, get changed, and hit the road. Don't forget the water. iPod?

4:25. Why are your eyes still open? Geesh. There's no way. I was going to be out the door by 4:30. What can I do if she falls asleep right now? No teeth brushing. I'll put my shoes on in the car. While driving. I can still make this.

4:27. Sigh. Give it up. No stadium runs for you. At least you'll get in a swim later today. Sometimes parenthood sucks. (Martyr switch on.)

4:28 Really? Are you really asleep? If I jump out of bed now, I can still make it. But I have to jump out of bed slowly. I can do this. Slide out of bed. SLIDE. QUIET!!!!

I climbed out of bed, checked my watch every thirty seconds, channeled the triathlete in me to make the fastest transition ever from pajamas to running clothes, and bolted down the hall. Grabbed a pair of running shoes from next to the back door (Geesh, I hope this is a matching pair). Grabbed a banana off the counter. Told my husband I was hitting the road, and I was out of there. 4:39.

For what? This:

I think this picture is actually of the side we didn't run on. They have remodeled the stadium, and I'm not sure this is even a current picture, but in my hurry to get out of the house in the dark this morning, I forgot to bring my phone along with me, so I couldn't get actual pictures. Next week.

There were about ten people there this morning. And those folks were amazing. We went from one end of the stadium to the other, up one aisle and down the next--stopping on the downs to do ten push-ups. I made it through one time. Others went down and back. Others went down and back and down and back. Incredible. My legs were quaking by the time I got halfway through.

My favorite part, though, was when we went down to the stadium grass at the end and ran laps around the field. Barefoot. I would go back again just to get to do that. I couldn't help but remember the laps I got to do around Badger stadium during the Ironman in Wisconsin. And I was thinking how jazzed I would be to get to do this same workout in Michigan stadium.

I'm not sure what the takeaways from this morning are. Sometimes, parenthood gets in the way. It's great to be a mom, but it doesn't always make it easy to be a runner or a triathlete. And while I love curling up in bed to watch Ruby sleep, I also love being a grown-up with other grown-ups doing athletic things at 5:00 in the morning. I think that's the biggest challenge of parenthood--having to find a balance.

On the workout front, it was tough to watch everyone else doing two or three times what I did this morning, and I wanted to do more. But I think there are times when it is wise to know if I am doing a workout because my ego wants me to or if I am doing a workout because it's what my body needs. As I stood there on the steps about halfway through the workout and felt my legs shaking like jello, I knew I needed to put the ego in check. Had I known how much I would love running barefoot on the field, I would have headed down there sooner.

Swimming tonight.