Sick sick sick.
When Wifey hacks
And Smarty Pants sneezes
Green snot flows
Thick and easy as it pleases
Finally worn out
My immunity breaks
Now I'm coughing and blowing
Plus fever and aches
But I'm starting to feel better
Maybe it's not too late
To get into shape
For my mid-March Moab race
Like any time is a great time to get bronchitis and a sinus infection, now is terrible. The Moab Half Marathon isn't really in jeopardy, but being sick all last week and still feeling the effects this week is really going to affect my performance. I wasn't shooting for a PR, but wanted to at least do as good as last year. My longest run thus far has been about 6 miles and while it didn't kill me, I wanted to build up to about 12 miles before the run, which is now about a month away. If I am lucky I can build up to 8-9 without worrying about injury. Much. Fortunately I think my base is good enough that I can build my mileage up quickly and still run quick while having fun.
Here's to feeling better soon and my poetry skillz improving soon!
February 15, 2010
February 1, 2010
The Importance of Gear Inspection
Things wear out. When they do, you replace them. Socks to jeans, cars to microwaves. Mostly replacement is a nuisance because with most stuff there is no excitement. That is the beauty of bicycling, or any sport that gives you a visceral reaction. When a bike part wears out or breaks you get the opportunity to upgrade. There is no passion replacing the drain pump in the washer. You don't go looking for a washer pump with a titanium impeller to increase drainage infinitesimally. But a new handlebar... now, that's something.
But I digress. I should be discussing the importance of gear inspection. Yeah, you should check the oil in the car and air up the tires and stuff or risk calamity - as I mentioned previously. But this is about the neat shit, like bikes. Or, in this instance, swim trunks.
Looking for any way to improve the way I feel about swimming, if not actually improving my abilities, I took the plunge last year and bought the extended Speedo® for swim practice, frequently called Jammers. I figured why not. I rock lycra shorts - hell, bib shorts even - on the bike all summer. While I didn't notice any improvement, I pretend I did.
Which, at long last leads me to gear inspection.
The other day I pulled my jammers out of the washer and went to hang them up. While attaching them to the hanger I noticed some flaky white stuff on the shorts in the region that would be on the crack of my ass. On inspection I noticed the elastic has eroded, likely due to a combination of pool water and my ass cheeks rubbing on it, and I could almost see completely through the stretchy fabric. Which meant, that for an unknown length of time, I have been torturing the poor people at the Roy Complex with my butt crack.
!
After letting the shorts dry, I slid them on and bade Wifey to come hither and inspect the tox. Fortunately. Fortunately, though the fabric is thin the darkness of the chASSm hides any obvious signs. While this, and my muffin top, may keep me from being offered a spread in Playgirl®, I was overjoyed to learn I had not been flashing the cadre of over 70 ladies doing water aerobics. I am certain they are also.
Gear inspection people. Get in the habit.
But I digress. I should be discussing the importance of gear inspection. Yeah, you should check the oil in the car and air up the tires and stuff or risk calamity - as I mentioned previously. But this is about the neat shit, like bikes. Or, in this instance, swim trunks.
Looking for any way to improve the way I feel about swimming, if not actually improving my abilities, I took the plunge last year and bought the extended Speedo® for swim practice, frequently called Jammers. I figured why not. I rock lycra shorts - hell, bib shorts even - on the bike all summer. While I didn't notice any improvement, I pretend I did.
Which, at long last leads me to gear inspection.
The other day I pulled my jammers out of the washer and went to hang them up. While attaching them to the hanger I noticed some flaky white stuff on the shorts in the region that would be on the crack of my ass. On inspection I noticed the elastic has eroded, likely due to a combination of pool water and my ass cheeks rubbing on it, and I could almost see completely through the stretchy fabric. Which meant, that for an unknown length of time, I have been torturing the poor people at the Roy Complex with my butt crack.
!
After letting the shorts dry, I slid them on and bade Wifey to come hither and inspect the tox. Fortunately. Fortunately, though the fabric is thin the darkness of the chASSm hides any obvious signs. While this, and my muffin top, may keep me from being offered a spread in Playgirl®, I was overjoyed to learn I had not been flashing the cadre of over 70 ladies doing water aerobics. I am certain they are also.
Gear inspection people. Get in the habit.
January 29, 2010
Buying Shoes
Let me cut to the quick: I hate buying shoes.
Any shoes. But mostly running shoes. I am able to take this exciting (for runners anyway) experience and turn it into a sleep-losing and stressful ordeal. How? I have a knack for making things difficult. I don't mean it, it just comes naturally.
My feet fall between an 8.5 and a 9, with the 9 frequently being too large and the 8.5 being marginally too small. This is where my obsessive nature gets in the way. Which one do I choose? Too small and I risk losing toenails, too large and I risk blisters forming between my toes. Generally I end up buying a shoe and taking it home where I will obsessively try it on every 20 or so minutes, jam my thumb between the end of the shoe and my toe and try and convince myself that this is the one. Satisfied. I'll take them off and neatly return them to the box where I will carefully wrap them in the paper. Why do I put them in the box? Because even though I just decided THIS pair of shoes shall adorn my feet, uncertainty lingers like the few remaining hairs on my head.
Case in point. I recently ordered a new pair of Nike Pegasus 26 GTX. Lovely shoes. Suitable for both road and trail with a Gore-Tex® lining guaranteed to keep my feet warm and dry. Now, because I was ordering these I wouldn't be able to have the usual sleepover try on date. I wanted to avoid shipping them back. I had to do my homework beforehand. I went to the local big box store and promptly tried on a 9 and a 9.5.
Why not an 8.5 you ask? In my frantic need to get a shoe fix I overlooked this detail. Obviously the 9.5 was too big. The 9 was great. I pulled the trigger and ordered them.
When they arrived a slight squeal escaped my throat as I carefully removed them from the box and slid them onto my feet and checked the toe clearance. A little more than a thumb.
A little more. But it was just a little depending where and how I pressed in the top of the shoe. They were fine as I wore them for a few minutes, this is the size I needed I told myself.
They were too big.
Back to the big box at 8:00 pm to try on an 8.5. No Pegasus. So I tried on not one, but five other styles of Nike running shoes in size 8.5 and 9. The 9s all fit the same. The 8.5s all fit too tight. Most normal people would take this as an indicator of the 9 being the correct size. But I. Am. Not. Normal. I am tenaciously obnoxious and obsessive. About running shoes.
I went home and slid back into the 9s. This is good, these will be great. This is the size the guys at the running store would recommend. I stared at the shoes on my feet as I waited for the rationalization switch to flip. I'll take them to work with me tomorrow, and run in them. Carefully, they were wrapped and stowed inside that orange, swooshy box.
At work, again I tried them on and stared at them hopefully while jamming my thumbs first into one shoe and then the other (my right foot is slightly larger). I had tried on other 8.5s, but I would not be satisfied until I tried on the Pegasus in an 8.5. Again, back to the box.
Later that night, with a blessing from a very understanding Wifey (who is painfully aware of my nature), I drove to another big box with the hope of finding this elusive shoe. Which they did. And the 8.5 fit. Like. A. Glooooove.
A glove. Perfect in my estimation. Now that the 9s were dead to me, all I had to do was get them back. Then get my 8.5s. All of which should be done just about the time I no longer need the benefits of Gore-Tex®.
Next up? New cycling shoes. I don't like them too big either. I feel like my foot moves around inside and robs me of power. But too small, my toenails put holes in my socks and when my feet swell the shoes are too tight... Unfortunately, there is a huge price disparity between the shoes at the LBS and those at online retailers. Which means I'll likely order them. Maybe I'll just make it easy and order sizes 8-9.5. Then I can sit alone and really get crazy!
Any shoes. But mostly running shoes. I am able to take this exciting (for runners anyway) experience and turn it into a sleep-losing and stressful ordeal. How? I have a knack for making things difficult. I don't mean it, it just comes naturally.
My feet fall between an 8.5 and a 9, with the 9 frequently being too large and the 8.5 being marginally too small. This is where my obsessive nature gets in the way. Which one do I choose? Too small and I risk losing toenails, too large and I risk blisters forming between my toes. Generally I end up buying a shoe and taking it home where I will obsessively try it on every 20 or so minutes, jam my thumb between the end of the shoe and my toe and try and convince myself that this is the one. Satisfied. I'll take them off and neatly return them to the box where I will carefully wrap them in the paper. Why do I put them in the box? Because even though I just decided THIS pair of shoes shall adorn my feet, uncertainty lingers like the few remaining hairs on my head.
Case in point. I recently ordered a new pair of Nike Pegasus 26 GTX. Lovely shoes. Suitable for both road and trail with a Gore-Tex® lining guaranteed to keep my feet warm and dry. Now, because I was ordering these I wouldn't be able to have the usual sleepover try on date. I wanted to avoid shipping them back. I had to do my homework beforehand. I went to the local big box store and promptly tried on a 9 and a 9.5.
Why not an 8.5 you ask? In my frantic need to get a shoe fix I overlooked this detail. Obviously the 9.5 was too big. The 9 was great. I pulled the trigger and ordered them.
When they arrived a slight squeal escaped my throat as I carefully removed them from the box and slid them onto my feet and checked the toe clearance. A little more than a thumb.
A little more. But it was just a little depending where and how I pressed in the top of the shoe. They were fine as I wore them for a few minutes, this is the size I needed I told myself.
They were too big.
Back to the big box at 8:00 pm to try on an 8.5. No Pegasus. So I tried on not one, but five other styles of Nike running shoes in size 8.5 and 9. The 9s all fit the same. The 8.5s all fit too tight. Most normal people would take this as an indicator of the 9 being the correct size. But I. Am. Not. Normal. I am tenaciously obnoxious and obsessive. About running shoes.
I went home and slid back into the 9s. This is good, these will be great. This is the size the guys at the running store would recommend. I stared at the shoes on my feet as I waited for the rationalization switch to flip. I'll take them to work with me tomorrow, and run in them. Carefully, they were wrapped and stowed inside that orange, swooshy box.
At work, again I tried them on and stared at them hopefully while jamming my thumbs first into one shoe and then the other (my right foot is slightly larger). I had tried on other 8.5s, but I would not be satisfied until I tried on the Pegasus in an 8.5. Again, back to the box.
Later that night, with a blessing from a very understanding Wifey (who is painfully aware of my nature), I drove to another big box with the hope of finding this elusive shoe. Which they did. And the 8.5 fit. Like. A. Glooooove.
A glove. Perfect in my estimation. Now that the 9s were dead to me, all I had to do was get them back. Then get my 8.5s. All of which should be done just about the time I no longer need the benefits of Gore-Tex®.
Next up? New cycling shoes. I don't like them too big either. I feel like my foot moves around inside and robs me of power. But too small, my toenails put holes in my socks and when my feet swell the shoes are too tight... Unfortunately, there is a huge price disparity between the shoes at the LBS and those at online retailers. Which means I'll likely order them. Maybe I'll just make it easy and order sizes 8-9.5. Then I can sit alone and really get crazy!
January 22, 2010
Obvilivious
Last post I whined about lack of motivation and being tired and stuff. I slapped around every reason why except for one: Overtraining.
I know, it sounds odd. But as I look back at the last couple of months, I've recognized a pattern of exercising in a sort of no-man's land where the gains are small for the output levels. My morning strength training sessions are usually 30-45 minutes of non-stop movement. Runs have been consistently faster also, my rationale being I haven't really taken a break this year and I should be carrying fitness that allows me to go at that speed. It does, but just not every damn workout.
So, it is time to get my shit together and get on The Plan. I should have my yearly schedule done today, and I might even post it here in the hope some of you that visit this page will taunt me into sticking with it. Something I haven't done in many years. With the plan in hand, the next thing to do is find my heart rates for cycling, running and swimming through stress testing and setting heart rate zones that will maximize training. This accomplished, I will throw myself into The Plan, starting with a nice block of base building that will help my body handle increased training loads later and (hopefully) prevent me from overdoing over again.
I know, it sounds odd. But as I look back at the last couple of months, I've recognized a pattern of exercising in a sort of no-man's land where the gains are small for the output levels. My morning strength training sessions are usually 30-45 minutes of non-stop movement. Runs have been consistently faster also, my rationale being I haven't really taken a break this year and I should be carrying fitness that allows me to go at that speed. It does, but just not every damn workout.
So, it is time to get my shit together and get on The Plan. I should have my yearly schedule done today, and I might even post it here in the hope some of you that visit this page will taunt me into sticking with it. Something I haven't done in many years. With the plan in hand, the next thing to do is find my heart rates for cycling, running and swimming through stress testing and setting heart rate zones that will maximize training. This accomplished, I will throw myself into The Plan, starting with a nice block of base building that will help my body handle increased training loads later and (hopefully) prevent me from overdoing over again.
January 18, 2010
A House of Fire!
2010 has been here for a couple of weeks and along with it additional motivation to accomplish the things I have been putting off. Sort of. Most of what I want to do involves being outdoors in the cold. So, not much of that has been getting done. Still, I have some motivation to get rolling once the weather warms up, and since we are on the downhill slope of the winter solstice days are getting longer!
I am still on the hunt for a half Iron distance race. I have found a couple and both times had the opportunities stolen by other commitments. Which is fricking irritating to say the least.
Training for said future race is going like a house of fire! My motivation is sustainable. I have been running, lifting, swimming some and biking on the trainer a little. I might be doing too much though. By Thursday the house has burned down and left me a blackened shell. My legs are sore and I just get tired. Might be the schedule that involves mostly two-a-day workouts...
I am still on the hunt for a half Iron distance race. I have found a couple and both times had the opportunities stolen by other commitments. Which is fricking irritating to say the least.
Training for said future race is going like a house of fire! My motivation is sustainable. I have been running, lifting, swimming some and biking on the trainer a little. I might be doing too much though. By Thursday the house has burned down and left me a blackened shell. My legs are sore and I just get tired. Might be the schedule that involves mostly two-a-day workouts...
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