Never say never

Just a bit under three years ago, preparing for my first triathlon, I started running. I did Couch to 5K because that's what all my runner friends said I should do.

I did my first 5K in March 2009, two months before my first tri. When I crossed the line that day in March, it was as "just" a practice for my bigger goal of swim-bike-run. I was satisfied to have done it, but thought that was the end of my 5K days.

Turns out, I was wrong.

Fitness events have become a bit of a sickness to me. First a 5K, then a tri. Then a couple more tris. Maybe a few more 5Ks - each time trying to run just a little faster than the last time (and not always succeeding).

Last fall, on a whim, I signed up for a 10K. I didn't think I'd ever be able to run 6.2 miles. That was an impossible goal - a goal for much better runners - much more fit people - than myself. But I finished that race (no speed records, but I finished). As I ran across the line - exhausted - I distinctly remember thinking, "This is less than half way in a half marathon. No WAY will I ever be able to do that. This is it for me. My max distance."

Then the sickness took over and sometime last winter I found myself entering my credit card and hitting "submit" on registration for the Long Branch Half Marathon on May 1. I immediately had buyer's regret.

"What the hell was I THINKING? I remember asking myself. "I must have rocks in my head. No, not rocks. BOULDERS."

So I started training in January in the bitter cold and ran throughout the spring through knee problems and foot problems and colds. The early runs were hard. I hadn't run all fall or winter and could barely do 3 miles. But slowly, I started building and eventually was up to 6, 7, even 8.7 miles. Still . . .a half marathon (13.1 miles) is nearly four additional miles on top of that. Eeek, I thought.

Last Sunday, I completed the race. Again, no land-speed records, but I did it. My goal was to finish in two-and-a-half hours or less. I did not hit that goal - finishing instead in exactly 2:37. However, I had to stop three separate times in the first four miles to deal with "hot spots" on my feet - blisters in the making - each time pulling off one or both shoes and either bandaging or "lubing" the spots with Body Glide.

I felt *great* from miles five to eight - it was nearly effortless. Passing the halfway mark was pure ELATION! It was fantastic.

I had planned all along to walk through the water stops, so I did, but other than that (and the stops to do triage on my feet) I didn't walk at all. I ran the whole thing. 13.1 miles! I never in a million years would have thought it possible, but it was. I did it, and it was even (a bit) easier than I thought it would be. So I'm pleased. Really pleased.

When I ran across the finish line, I thought, "This is only HALFWAY in a marathon. If I were doing a marathon I'd have to run this entire course again. And that is IMPOSSIBLE."

Less than a week later, quads still a little sore, blisters not quite healed, I find myself seriously contemplating signing up for the Marine Corps Marathon in October. Because, as I've learned, nothing is impossible with hard work and determination.



Me, just after finishing the Long Branch Half Marathon on May 1, 2011

The naked truth

I am not really very comfortable with public nudity. Mine or other people's.

In the locker room at the gym, I duck into one of the curtained changing areas to slip on my swimsuit and I wrap myself in a huge towel on the way to or from the shower. Other women are not so modest, and that's cool, but when confronted with other's nudity, I can't help but feel really uncomfortable. I look up at the ceiling or down at the floor or I study the really fascinating tile work on the walls and find myself wishing they would all respect my other people's hang ups and use that long wall of private changing areas, thankyouverymuch.

I have been swimming every Wednesday night for 19 weeks and every Wednesday night when I come out of the pool there is an elderly woman there going through some type of strange ritual involving the sauna, the shower and a lot of meandering about. She walks around the locker room slowly, sitting sometimes on the benches but mostly just kind of loitering. Every now and then, she'll duck into the shower or the sauna for a few minutes, but then she emerges again only to wander around with seemingly no real purpose but to make me twitchy.

Why?

Because she is naked as the day is long the entire time.

(Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

But, well, it's kind of - disturbing, at least to an uptight born-and-bred New Englander like myself. And odd. I really want to ask her what the hell she's doing. And why is she doing it nude? And can't she at least throw a towel down on that bench because really . . . ew!

In any event, I've sort of gotten used to her and accepted the fact that she's a bit . . . eccentric. And besides. I only have one more week of Wednesday night swim classes, so I can deal.

Except, I can't. Because she tonight she crossed over from simply strange to complete whack-a-doodle. (A naked whack-a-doodle at that.)

Let me explain: I was standing at the sinks drying my hair. No one else was in the locker room. She came out of the sauna and walked over to one of the other sinks where she proceeded to wash her armpits. Which . . . OK. Maybe she got sweaty in the sauna, but then again, there's a whole room of showers not 10 feet away.

But then, THEN she proceeded to pull one of those single-blade disposable razors out of . . . where? I have no idea. (She was nude, people, so I really don't want to spend too much time thinking about where that puppy was stowed). But in any event, she begins to SHAVE HER ARMPITS. Right there at the sink.

Which is when I went into major defense mode. I bent over and began drying my hair upside down. I did this because 1. I no longer had to look at her and 2. my hair dries faster this way and at this point all I want to do is get the freakin' hell out of there.

Then, she ups the ante AGAIN.

With no warning, she throws one leg up on the counter top (she's apparently quite limber for an old broad) and begins SHAVING HER LEG.

Now, I would like to remind you where my head is at this point. Down. Low. Which means that when her leg hit the counter top with a large thump, I involuntarily glanced in her general direction and out of the corner of my eye I saw WAY TOO MUCH OF THIS WOMAN. WAAAAAAYY TOO MUCH. Like as much as we all saw of Britney Spears when she forgot to wear underwear for a week straight.

(And yes, I am scarred for life and no, I will never be able to burn this sight from my brain.)

For a split second, I actually wondered if I was on some type of bizarre, adult candid camera show. I started looking around for the hidden camera and wondering if Ashton Kutcher or someone was going to pop out of a locker. But of course, that didn't happen and she went right on calmly shaving her leg while my brain - frozen like a deer in the headlights - attempted to process what it was seeing while at the same time desperately trying to forget what it just saw. ::shudders::

This was the straw that broke my proverbial back. I switched off the hairdryer and walked out of there before she could start shaving SOMETHING ELSE and me and my still-wet hair went swiftly into the frozen night. Which was infinitely better than hanging around for the finale to this woman's highly bizarre grooming ritual.

Next week, I think I'll use the girls' locker room. Just to be safe.

Wordless Wednesday: The importance of exercise

Who else is Wordless today?

Dear YMCA:

I would like to suggest that next year you have the trees for your annual Christmas sale delivered on a day other than the Monday after Thanksgiving, which aside from the first week of January, is probably the busiest gym day of the year. The two giant tractor trailer trucks that delivered the trees took up well over two dozen parking spots and caused a huge traffic jam as people tried to get in and out of the lot.

Minimally, how about having them delivered in the afternoon when the gym is less busy instead of at the peak hour of 9:30 a.m.? It just seems like common sense to me.

Signed,

Cranky lady who got stuck in a huge traffic snafu, then had to park two blocks away and only had 45 minutes to work out today as a result

Reason #763 why my husband rocks

He got me a new iPod Shuffle for the gym—250 songs on something no bigger than a book of matches:



Why?

Just because he lubs me.

That and my other iPod (a 20GB) is a full two generations earlier than what Apple quaintly just renamed the “classic," and I think he was sick of me complaining about how cumbersome it is to use at the gym.

So now I can workout and listen to music without worrying about:
- Having to fish my giant, antique iPod out of my underwear because the only reasonable way to use it at the gym was to tuck it into the waistband of my workout pants where sweat and movement = slippery iPod
- Stepping on my giant, antique iPod after dropping it as I move my exercise equipment into position
- Knocking my giant, antique iPod off the top of the treadmill and watching helplessly as it bounces three times before spinning 39 times and landing in the middle of the aisle in front of me

Not that ANY of those things have ever happened.

whistling and looking up at the ceiling

Look what I can do

It's only taken five years of yoga to get this point, and I can still only hold it for a few measely seconds, but I can officially say I can do it! Me so proud.

Problem solved

This morning, my children woke up in utterly awful moods. There was much whining. There was a lot of screeching. There was fighting and slapping and snatching of toys followed by more screeching.

So I did the only logical thing. I tossed both their grumbly butts in the car, drove to the gym, dropped them in the babysitting area and made them someone else's problem for an hour and a half.

I'm starting to think my love of the gym has nothing to do with exercise.