I planned to take today off as I have been hammering away at my legs for 11 days straight.
We hibernated for six long months here in Iowa throughout the winter though, and now it's nice and it's sort of akin to someone lifting up a giant rock; all the people come crawling out. At this particular moment, I cannot be outside sweating enough hours a day to stay satisfied. I also have a bit of backlash leftover from my years spent in Northwest Washington; where if there is an inkling of sun, you'd best get your ass outside or you might not see it again for weeks, if not months.
All was well with this lovely Hump Day off plan except I went to bed early last night, the birds got me up at 5 and I figured, what the heck, might as well hit kickboxing class this a.m. It's bags day and I find hitting and kicking things very satisfying. I had one of the best bag workouts I've had since...well Monday night's workout; complete with the near puke, arms shaking, stomach wrenching, legs trembling stuff.
And now it's six hours later and the damned sun (cannot find a cloud anywhere) is out for what feels like the bazillionth day in a row, there is no wind, no humidity and no mosquitoes the size of crows so I really now need to get on my bike. For the love of Pete.
Sure, there's not much to look at out on the road around these parts, but I DO have the greatest company most days. And riding and laughing might be one of the sweetest simplest pleasures of them all.
And as I sit here and relish in my new found endorphin fueled happiness...it occurs to me that it's my people that makes my world go round. And soon enough, just when my people are all getting sick of my shit, the corn will be up, the sun will still be up, the mosquitos will be all around, it'll be humid as all get out, and we'll all be on Ragbrai.
In the meantime, I'm taking some time to smell the lilacs. I had forgotten about the lilacs around here--so many of them and so, so smelly.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
New Slater Bike Lane is Smooth But What Ever Happened To Good Times?
There's a newly paved bike lane beginning just outside of Ames running through Slater, to Big Creek, Polk City and through Des Moines. We checked it out the other night and it's nice; a welcome change from fearing for your life as cars honk and sputter by. It is even wide enough that we were able to ride two abreast and it's clear; no glass, road kill or other treats. And in perhaps the biggest bonus of all...it is smooth as a baby's butt.
We figured we'd ride to Polk City, have a beer, ride back. Naturally, this early in the season when the wind blows, a big ride can quickly be diverted to the closest tavern. Such was the case last week when we forayed out after work on what we'd hoped would be a cool 50 miler. The wind hurt, our legs hurt, and we were not really feeling like winning, as they say, so we decided the best thing to do was drink beer.
We stopped in Slater at what I thought was "Good Times Saloon." I'd spent nearly five miles talking about all the memories I had in this place from years past: previous bike rides, the infamous and now defunct "Sleishea" (Slater version of Veishea), stops on the former Wallaby's Employee Party excursions, and the Halverson crew...really, need I say more? That place always had, in my mind at least, always oozed good people and of course, Good Times.
Except this time it wasn't good times at all, it actually kind of sucked. Our problems began when "no cash Ali" produced nothing but a debit card and three bucks for the good will of the team. They take no cards. Thankfully, Scott had $25 in cash so we were good for awhile at least, until we had a bit of a mix up with the bartender in our funds, and he shorted us five bucks for one of our rounds, and hence our we were unable to buy our subsequent round. Granted, we could have been wrong, but when you come to a bar with $28 it is not so difficult to do the math. And really, we could have taken or left the beer, but this seemed to set the stage for the rest of the experience which we kept saying was just plain, weird. And later, when I ran into a friend of mine who is a Slater local, he echoed our sentiments by saying, "oh, that place is weird now."
Ahem. Yes, weird.
Perhaps Good Times vibe and love of bicycles left Slater when the bar was purchased a few years ago; as it is now called the Take Down...not something that brings to mind a positive visual as I roll in on two wheels. Perhaps we caught the fine folks there on an "off" night. Perhaps we smelled. I can speak for myself, I probably did. Regardless, everyone in there was less than friendly, less than willing to resolve our missing $5 complaint, and oh so willing to move their cars into the opened doorway to blast exhaust into the bar as part of a car show of some sort they had going on. It was very, um...loud. And exhaust like. Mmm. So we left.
Given that the Take Down will indeed become a stopping off point for many a cyclist from Ames venturing South on the new path, we hope that the new owners can take come pointers from the previous owners of the Good Times Saloon and bring happy back to our pit stop soon.
Until then, we want our five dollars….
We figured we'd ride to Polk City, have a beer, ride back. Naturally, this early in the season when the wind blows, a big ride can quickly be diverted to the closest tavern. Such was the case last week when we forayed out after work on what we'd hoped would be a cool 50 miler. The wind hurt, our legs hurt, and we were not really feeling like winning, as they say, so we decided the best thing to do was drink beer.
We stopped in Slater at what I thought was "Good Times Saloon." I'd spent nearly five miles talking about all the memories I had in this place from years past: previous bike rides, the infamous and now defunct "Sleishea" (Slater version of Veishea), stops on the former Wallaby's Employee Party excursions, and the Halverson crew...really, need I say more? That place always had, in my mind at least, always oozed good people and of course, Good Times.
Except this time it wasn't good times at all, it actually kind of sucked. Our problems began when "no cash Ali" produced nothing but a debit card and three bucks for the good will of the team. They take no cards. Thankfully, Scott had $25 in cash so we were good for awhile at least, until we had a bit of a mix up with the bartender in our funds, and he shorted us five bucks for one of our rounds, and hence our we were unable to buy our subsequent round. Granted, we could have been wrong, but when you come to a bar with $28 it is not so difficult to do the math. And really, we could have taken or left the beer, but this seemed to set the stage for the rest of the experience which we kept saying was just plain, weird. And later, when I ran into a friend of mine who is a Slater local, he echoed our sentiments by saying, "oh, that place is weird now."
Ahem. Yes, weird.
Perhaps Good Times vibe and love of bicycles left Slater when the bar was purchased a few years ago; as it is now called the Take Down...not something that brings to mind a positive visual as I roll in on two wheels. Perhaps we caught the fine folks there on an "off" night. Perhaps we smelled. I can speak for myself, I probably did. Regardless, everyone in there was less than friendly, less than willing to resolve our missing $5 complaint, and oh so willing to move their cars into the opened doorway to blast exhaust into the bar as part of a car show of some sort they had going on. It was very, um...loud. And exhaust like. Mmm. So we left.
Given that the Take Down will indeed become a stopping off point for many a cyclist from Ames venturing South on the new path, we hope that the new owners can take come pointers from the previous owners of the Good Times Saloon and bring happy back to our pit stop soon.
Until then, we want our five dollars….
Thursday, May 15, 2008
The Ride...and the Partner in Crime
When I was in Bellingham, I spent a disproportionate amount of my road miles by myself. I had riding partners in crime, but logistically it was difficult to arrange rides with these folks with the frequency I'm able to now. It is also more necessary to ride with others in Iowa, as the terrain isn't nearly as exciting--sorry, love Iowa, but dirt and red winged black birds ain't gonna cut it by my lonesome on a 50 miler!
My boyfriend at the time hated it, but more often than not when I rode by myself in Bellingham I'd ride out to Lummi Island, one of the San Juan Islands near my house. There is a ton of broken glass on the reservation roads, few to no services, and crazy drivers. He hated the idea of my breaking down coupled with my subpar bicycle mechanics skills. I was lucky and never flatted out there. I also found that when I was by myself the drivers kept a very respectable distance.
I kept going back to Lummi because if you could get over the litter and broken glass, the ride offered majestic views of everything that makes Washington magical: salt flats, high and low tides, some great little climbs, fresh wild berries on nearly every road, a few lovely decents and the sweet reward at the end, Gooseberry Point, to make it all worthwhile. No matter what route I took I always ended it the same, climbing up that hill, rocketing downward and at the bottom, hard left at the Point; and boom--there was Mount Baker and the twin sisters, a full panoramic of Bellingham Bay, maybe a sea lion, a view of the other islands, a smattering of birds I could rarely identify and a few sailboats.
There was rarely a day when I didn't nearly crash watching some bird, usually a bald eagle, as it would skim across the water, diving down to pull out a fish. Riding by myself became this near spiritual experience; I didn't have to pay much attention to anything but each crack in the road, the clouds, my breath...or lack thereof. It was a great excuse to be wholly present and go as fast or as slow as I wanted, whenever I wanted.
Riding with others is totally different. Anyone who has ridden previously, and then begins riding with a partner will likely appreciate my saying that riding with aanother person is a whole other adventure. I have come to believe that you can learn more about a person on a bike than you can about anywhere else.
I will use this space from time to time to pay tribute to my biking partners and try to shed a little light on what I learned from these fine folks as they each, in their respective ways, made me into the cyclist I am today. I don't want to get all mushy and stupid, so I will try to reflect on the little moments that somehow stick out. I found myself on my bike. It is only through the collective experiences of those I've piled on the miles with that I can say this.
Here, I'll thank them each in this small way.
My boyfriend at the time hated it, but more often than not when I rode by myself in Bellingham I'd ride out to Lummi Island, one of the San Juan Islands near my house. There is a ton of broken glass on the reservation roads, few to no services, and crazy drivers. He hated the idea of my breaking down coupled with my subpar bicycle mechanics skills. I was lucky and never flatted out there. I also found that when I was by myself the drivers kept a very respectable distance.
I kept going back to Lummi because if you could get over the litter and broken glass, the ride offered majestic views of everything that makes Washington magical: salt flats, high and low tides, some great little climbs, fresh wild berries on nearly every road, a few lovely decents and the sweet reward at the end, Gooseberry Point, to make it all worthwhile. No matter what route I took I always ended it the same, climbing up that hill, rocketing downward and at the bottom, hard left at the Point; and boom--there was Mount Baker and the twin sisters, a full panoramic of Bellingham Bay, maybe a sea lion, a view of the other islands, a smattering of birds I could rarely identify and a few sailboats.
There was rarely a day when I didn't nearly crash watching some bird, usually a bald eagle, as it would skim across the water, diving down to pull out a fish. Riding by myself became this near spiritual experience; I didn't have to pay much attention to anything but each crack in the road, the clouds, my breath...or lack thereof. It was a great excuse to be wholly present and go as fast or as slow as I wanted, whenever I wanted.
Riding with others is totally different. Anyone who has ridden previously, and then begins riding with a partner will likely appreciate my saying that riding with aanother person is a whole other adventure. I have come to believe that you can learn more about a person on a bike than you can about anywhere else.
I will use this space from time to time to pay tribute to my biking partners and try to shed a little light on what I learned from these fine folks as they each, in their respective ways, made me into the cyclist I am today. I don't want to get all mushy and stupid, so I will try to reflect on the little moments that somehow stick out. I found myself on my bike. It is only through the collective experiences of those I've piled on the miles with that I can say this.
Here, I'll thank them each in this small way.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
My Yoga Obsession Heats Up
I have a bit of an obsession with hot yoga. Stick me in a hot room and within seconds I'll immediately begin the detox and feel my body systematically let go.
Get me talking about what happened when I began a regular practice four years ago, and I will passionately with hand gestures and grandiose fluxuations in tone tell you that my yoga practice undoubtedly changed my life. The physical benefits were and are immense. I found relief from: migraines, allergies, ear infections, sports injuries, carpal tunnel among many other common ailments. I also lost a lot of weight, toned up, and learned to trust my body and touch my toes. Bound up from pounding athletic ventures, the biggest miracle of all may be that I can bend over and pull my face to the floor, or do a pretty lovely standing bow pulling pose, bend over backwords, etc. all huge feats given that I could not touch my toes, lock out my knee, nor could I make it up the two flights of stairs without everything clicking furiously. Truly the physical accomplishments and progress are enough to raise an eyebrow, but it is the psychological benefit that was truly life altering for me.
I miss my Bellingham Bikram family immensely, and can honestly say that the fine folks there likely single handedly kept me in Bellingham as long as I was there; the idea of starting anew in a place without a "home" for my practice, seemed well, entirely stupid when it had kept me entirely sane for so long.
I have done lots of other stupid things too, as my friends can attest. So move without a net/studio I did. There is not, in fact, a single Bikram studio in the state of Iowa. And the closest Barkan/Bikram studio is 2.5 hours away. So eventually, I will bring one here.
I've tried to do this for several years now, but whenever I travel I try to seek out the closest Bikram/hot studio for a good workout. This has taken on a whole new meaning/drive now that I don't have a 5 day a week practice. Hence, I have practiced the Bikram series all over Europe, Canada and the United States. Every studio is entirely different and while the dialogue and series are essentially the same, the energy from studio to studio varies immensely, as do the students and the instructors. Some instructors bark, some are so annoying their shrill voices are enough to cause nausea (another part of the journey!), some are so gentle and kind that it's a struggle to stay awake, some are militantly focused on form, some are so caring you want to hug after class, some could care less.
I begin each and every practice with the single goal of staying in the room. Four years later it is still sometimes difficult if not impossible to do. This started with the physical idea of "stay in the room" several years back and after I quickly learned what happens when I did leave and try to come back in, I found that lying or standing there doing nothing was a better alternative to leaving the heat and trying to come back in the room and regain concentration without puking or cramping up.
Try as I did though.
Now my "stay in the room" is centered more wholly on quieting my monkey mind and the idea of trying to concentrate wholly on myself for the entirety of the 90 minutes. This means completely disregarding outside noises, conversations and distractions. It is a helluva lot easier said than done. I like to escape--face it, we all do. In my mind in the midst of an intense practice I'll find myself cooking dinner, taking vacations to New Zealand, writing lists, remembering work tasks, thinking about my latest date, my son's baseball practice, the laundry I forgot in the washer (for two days)...a thousand things to keep me from staying there, in the room. And so I practice. And practice. Breathe.
One of the great first lessons of my practice was to not to judge myself too harshly, as I've found that the days I feel like I am going to have an amazing practice and bound in to the studio, many times quite the opposite happens, and the days when it is truly a struggle to put my sports bra on, I have the best days and my body/heart open up. In some of my darkest moments, I found myself laying on the floor of that Bellingham Studio, sometimes doing nothing more than laying there, breathing and letting the tears stream freely. There was never any judgement, never any ribbing. It was totally safe.
Likewise, I have pulled myself into a camel, or rabbit and felt my entire heart open up and release a load of pure emotion that is inexplicable in words alone. For all these reason, among others that I cannot put into words, it has been my intention for years now to attend an intensive teacher training and eventually take my practice to others--hopefully here in mid Iowa. I can readily admit that there is a part of me that wants to go to the intensive for selfish reasons alone, as I cannot imagine giving up what has become my "church" and sharing that space and time as it is so intensely personal and sacred. Yet at the same time, I trust in the idea of those who have gone before me when they tell me that truly after you've experienced the intensive training experience that there is literally no way that you cannot imagine anything but sharing it.
The experience I had in Nashville at Nashville Hot Yoga was among the best of my remote yoga travel adventures. The studio was clean and spacious, the temperature was right, and the instructor was deliberate, and yet lovely and light.
I had an amazing practice that day, drained my body of all sorts of interesting toxins and emotions, and I stayed mentally present until about five minutes before the end of class. I also experienced the typical sway of emotions and rawness that often accompanies a good hard practice after not having done one for awhile immediately thereafter. Thankfully I was surrounded by my most loving and accepting friends.
I once again have renewed vigor about getting myself to an intensive, practicing more regularly, and eventually sharing this gift with others. It is also interesting to note, that I am having an incredibly, incredibly difficult time trusting in the present moment and not wanting to shove the training in front of some other relevant and arguably more pertinent intiatives in my life, like completing my thesis before the university clock stops ticking. I want to quit my job and life and run away NOW.
But it all does make perfect sense at the same time. Because this idea of staying and being present and trusting in each moment for what it is happens to be the most amazing gift of this practice. It is also an idea that you never quite master and exactly why they call it ...a practice.
Get me talking about what happened when I began a regular practice four years ago, and I will passionately with hand gestures and grandiose fluxuations in tone tell you that my yoga practice undoubtedly changed my life. The physical benefits were and are immense. I found relief from: migraines, allergies, ear infections, sports injuries, carpal tunnel among many other common ailments. I also lost a lot of weight, toned up, and learned to trust my body and touch my toes. Bound up from pounding athletic ventures, the biggest miracle of all may be that I can bend over and pull my face to the floor, or do a pretty lovely standing bow pulling pose, bend over backwords, etc. all huge feats given that I could not touch my toes, lock out my knee, nor could I make it up the two flights of stairs without everything clicking furiously. Truly the physical accomplishments and progress are enough to raise an eyebrow, but it is the psychological benefit that was truly life altering for me.
I miss my Bellingham Bikram family immensely, and can honestly say that the fine folks there likely single handedly kept me in Bellingham as long as I was there; the idea of starting anew in a place without a "home" for my practice, seemed well, entirely stupid when it had kept me entirely sane for so long.
I have done lots of other stupid things too, as my friends can attest. So move without a net/studio I did. There is not, in fact, a single Bikram studio in the state of Iowa. And the closest Barkan/Bikram studio is 2.5 hours away. So eventually, I will bring one here.
I've tried to do this for several years now, but whenever I travel I try to seek out the closest Bikram/hot studio for a good workout. This has taken on a whole new meaning/drive now that I don't have a 5 day a week practice. Hence, I have practiced the Bikram series all over Europe, Canada and the United States. Every studio is entirely different and while the dialogue and series are essentially the same, the energy from studio to studio varies immensely, as do the students and the instructors. Some instructors bark, some are so annoying their shrill voices are enough to cause nausea (another part of the journey!), some are so gentle and kind that it's a struggle to stay awake, some are militantly focused on form, some are so caring you want to hug after class, some could care less.
I begin each and every practice with the single goal of staying in the room. Four years later it is still sometimes difficult if not impossible to do. This started with the physical idea of "stay in the room" several years back and after I quickly learned what happens when I did leave and try to come back in, I found that lying or standing there doing nothing was a better alternative to leaving the heat and trying to come back in the room and regain concentration without puking or cramping up.
Try as I did though.
Now my "stay in the room" is centered more wholly on quieting my monkey mind and the idea of trying to concentrate wholly on myself for the entirety of the 90 minutes. This means completely disregarding outside noises, conversations and distractions. It is a helluva lot easier said than done. I like to escape--face it, we all do. In my mind in the midst of an intense practice I'll find myself cooking dinner, taking vacations to New Zealand, writing lists, remembering work tasks, thinking about my latest date, my son's baseball practice, the laundry I forgot in the washer (for two days)...a thousand things to keep me from staying there, in the room. And so I practice. And practice. Breathe.
One of the great first lessons of my practice was to not to judge myself too harshly, as I've found that the days I feel like I am going to have an amazing practice and bound in to the studio, many times quite the opposite happens, and the days when it is truly a struggle to put my sports bra on, I have the best days and my body/heart open up. In some of my darkest moments, I found myself laying on the floor of that Bellingham Studio, sometimes doing nothing more than laying there, breathing and letting the tears stream freely. There was never any judgement, never any ribbing. It was totally safe.
Likewise, I have pulled myself into a camel, or rabbit and felt my entire heart open up and release a load of pure emotion that is inexplicable in words alone. For all these reason, among others that I cannot put into words, it has been my intention for years now to attend an intensive teacher training and eventually take my practice to others--hopefully here in mid Iowa. I can readily admit that there is a part of me that wants to go to the intensive for selfish reasons alone, as I cannot imagine giving up what has become my "church" and sharing that space and time as it is so intensely personal and sacred. Yet at the same time, I trust in the idea of those who have gone before me when they tell me that truly after you've experienced the intensive training experience that there is literally no way that you cannot imagine anything but sharing it.
The experience I had in Nashville at Nashville Hot Yoga was among the best of my remote yoga travel adventures. The studio was clean and spacious, the temperature was right, and the instructor was deliberate, and yet lovely and light.
I had an amazing practice that day, drained my body of all sorts of interesting toxins and emotions, and I stayed mentally present until about five minutes before the end of class. I also experienced the typical sway of emotions and rawness that often accompanies a good hard practice after not having done one for awhile immediately thereafter. Thankfully I was surrounded by my most loving and accepting friends.
I once again have renewed vigor about getting myself to an intensive, practicing more regularly, and eventually sharing this gift with others. It is also interesting to note, that I am having an incredibly, incredibly difficult time trusting in the present moment and not wanting to shove the training in front of some other relevant and arguably more pertinent intiatives in my life, like completing my thesis before the university clock stops ticking. I want to quit my job and life and run away NOW.
But it all does make perfect sense at the same time. Because this idea of staying and being present and trusting in each moment for what it is happens to be the most amazing gift of this practice. It is also an idea that you never quite master and exactly why they call it ...a practice.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Pony Up
I recently spent some time with my adopted family in Nashville. It was a much needed and welcome escape on a whole bunch of levels but I was particularly struck by a couple things:
1. This kickass little boutique advertising agency that totally defies the idea of the ad agency being some: work your fingers to the bone, eat you up and swallow you whole work environment that might have cool digs, but really just comes in an attractive package agency. I really had to resist the urge to link a couple of "those" agencies in here, but I shall stay on the cautiously optimistic side. The folks at RedPepper were gracious enough to let me mull around their digs for a morning and I was awestruck by the post-its, intelligent banter, the comps, the finished pieces, the nooks and crannies, the stories from the night before, and especially the fact that not one person had a weiner handshake.
If there were more places that fostered a work environment that encouraged and required spending an hour a day learning...whatever you want and need, the world would be a much, much better place.
2. I have a thing for exploring subcultures and will go anywhere once. About ten years ago I went to my first SteepleChase event and have been going back whenever possible ever since. The Iroquois SteepleChase was last weekend and it did not disappoint, although I am certain I have never been to one of these events and actually seen LESS of the horses. Details. Percy Warner Park is one of the most lovely in-city parks you'll find and the weather typically is a sunny 80 degrees. This year did not disappoint. The mojitos were cold, the horses ran, and never once did my betted jockey fall off, dammit it all to hell, as there's always extra cash for that!
These Southern folks have a few things figured out when it comes to doing a tailgate or a party at such an event; and while I will forever be more comfortable in my Teva's and tank top over those fancy dressses and hats (when in Rome) I am happy to report that it was another epic day.
It sometimes takes a trip or time spent with great people to get yourself back into a happy spot after some set backs, a kick to the gut, or other set back. I am happy to report that with my quick getaway I killed both the birds; and then some and then some. I will be back....
1. This kickass little boutique advertising agency that totally defies the idea of the ad agency being some: work your fingers to the bone, eat you up and swallow you whole work environment that might have cool digs, but really just comes in an attractive package agency. I really had to resist the urge to link a couple of "those" agencies in here, but I shall stay on the cautiously optimistic side. The folks at RedPepper were gracious enough to let me mull around their digs for a morning and I was awestruck by the post-its, intelligent banter, the comps, the finished pieces, the nooks and crannies, the stories from the night before, and especially the fact that not one person had a weiner handshake.
If there were more places that fostered a work environment that encouraged and required spending an hour a day learning...whatever you want and need, the world would be a much, much better place.
2. I have a thing for exploring subcultures and will go anywhere once. About ten years ago I went to my first SteepleChase event and have been going back whenever possible ever since. The Iroquois SteepleChase was last weekend and it did not disappoint, although I am certain I have never been to one of these events and actually seen LESS of the horses. Details. Percy Warner Park is one of the most lovely in-city parks you'll find and the weather typically is a sunny 80 degrees. This year did not disappoint. The mojitos were cold, the horses ran, and never once did my betted jockey fall off, dammit it all to hell, as there's always extra cash for that!
These Southern folks have a few things figured out when it comes to doing a tailgate or a party at such an event; and while I will forever be more comfortable in my Teva's and tank top over those fancy dressses and hats (when in Rome) I am happy to report that it was another epic day.
It sometimes takes a trip or time spent with great people to get yourself back into a happy spot after some set backs, a kick to the gut, or other set back. I am happy to report that with my quick getaway I killed both the birds; and then some and then some. I will be back....
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Bike’s still out, idiots don’t appear to be going anywhere, I am over it
Bike’s still out, idiots don’t appear to be going anywhere, I am over it
In the interest of not coming off as sarcastic, bitter, cup half empty and all those b.s. sayings I thought it prudent to post publicly that I have:
1. ...now been on my bike on the ROAD (some of you will find this mild ribbing totally appropriate--you know who you are) multiple times
2. ...now encountered multiple idiots
3....now resolved to not let these idiots pee on my Wheaties and ruin my ride(s)...today at least.
Kill me they may, but you read it here: I shall go down happy; blissfully so because I am getting my ass handed to me doing something I love, and hopefully I will manage a good catapult before I land.
Little League calls. Then the bike. Daylight savings and the SUN have arrived!
In the interest of not coming off as sarcastic, bitter, cup half empty and all those b.s. sayings I thought it prudent to post publicly that I have:
1. ...now been on my bike on the ROAD (some of you will find this mild ribbing totally appropriate--you know who you are) multiple times
2. ...now encountered multiple idiots
3....now resolved to not let these idiots pee on my Wheaties and ruin my ride(s)...today at least.
Kill me they may, but you read it here: I shall go down happy; blissfully so because I am getting my ass handed to me doing something I love, and hopefully I will manage a good catapult before I land.
Little League calls. Then the bike. Daylight savings and the SUN have arrived!
Half Marathon Anyone?
Well, one of my gym rat friends talked me into signing up for Dam 2 Dam, a 20K later this month. Small detail: I have not run in months. The Hal Higdon's Half Marathon Training guide insists 12 weeks of preparation for a novice. I will take five. I will not under any circumstances run every day. I am already a bit behind in my posting, but will use this space to post my workouts.
I had to take about two and a half weeks off from working out altogether in March/April, so have my doubts about the feasibility of this little project. Nonetheless, I need something to keep me going and Jen insisted that if I could go out and run 10 prior to the race that I'd be fine, fine. Whatever. We shall see.
DAY ONE: Sunday, May 27
Run 8 Miles
Thank goodness for my dog. She pulled me the entire way. I am in desperate need of some tunes. Feet hurt.
I had to take about two and a half weeks off from working out altogether in March/April, so have my doubts about the feasibility of this little project. Nonetheless, I need something to keep me going and Jen insisted that if I could go out and run 10 prior to the race that I'd be fine, fine. Whatever. We shall see.
DAY ONE: Sunday, May 27
Run 8 Miles
Thank goodness for my dog. She pulled me the entire way. I am in desperate need of some tunes. Feet hurt.
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