Warning: what follows is a hard look at illness and dementia. It isn't my normal carefree whining about my daily life and is full of pain and sadness. Please don't read this if you think it will upset you. I'm writing it down in the hopes that looking at it in hard print will help me understand what is going on.
When even the doctors are flailing around looking for a solution you know it isn't good. Instead of any improvement my mom is getting worse. She is a fragile shell of confusion and hate and anger.
What started as just another trip to the emergency room by a lonely hypochondriac looking for reassurance has probably turned into the final rational moments my mom will ever have. The first night in the hospital she was given Librium and Ativan. The Librium was because she normally has a drink at night and the doctors were afraid that she might go through withdrawal and have a seizure. The Ativan was given so that she would fall asleep. Both drugs should alleviate any anxiety and help her to relax. Unfortunately a side effect of both sedating drugs is the opposite; agitation resulted almost immediately.
The Librium is also not recommended for elderly patients or patients with dementia. My mother has at the very least mild dementia and she's 81 years old; elderly in anyone's book. Librium was a very bad drug choice. Mixing in the Ativan was a mistake, possibly a fatal one.
Because of the drugs, the morning after she arrived at the hospital she was more confused and uncoordinated than usual. She continued to receive regular doses of Librium twice a day. She saw many doctors/therapists/nurses/aides throughout the day and night and they determined that they should do even more tests.
Another night, more drugs, more confusion. With each change of shift a new set of caretakers would evaluate her, thinking that what they saw was her normal baseline. They didn't realize that she was acting drugged and I didn't know that they were drugging her. I thought she was just uncomfortable in the hospital or that maybe she had even had a stroke or something.
Thursday morning they were almost ready to release her, but the hospital doctor and her shift nurse were convinced she could not leave, since she lives alone. She was evaluated by a physical therapist who agreed that she couldn't be alone. It was determined that what she really needed was some rehabilitation, a short time in a rehab facility (or nursing home). Because of Medicare and insurance rules she would need to spend 3 additional nights at the hospital. She reluctantly agreed to this and was moved to a different floor.
At dinner time she was given some pills and while she was eating she got more and more confused and agitated. She forgot the conversations we had had with the doctors and with the case workers and insisted she wanted to leave. I repeated all the information we had gotten, repeated it a couple of times, but she was very unhappy.
After I left she got even more agitated so they gave her yet more Ativan. She slept, or was semi-conscious, for most of Friday. I spent the day looking at nursing homes and found what I thought would be a lovely rehab facility, near where she lives. Returning to her bedside I found her even more agitated than previously, although she was still focusing and making some sense. Once again at dinner she was given those same pills and once again she got more confused and quarrelsome. To get her to quiet down she was given the last dose of Ativan that put her over the top.
Finally on Saturday morning she was checked out by a new doctor who realized that plain and simple, she was over-medicated and over-sedated. She was mostly asleep for a good part of the day and when she awoke she was angry, confused, hostile. She insisted on leaving, yelled and screamed. The docs realized that she couldn't be given more anti-anxiety meds and decided to just wait until they were all out of her system. The hope was that she'd return to normal.
That hasn't happened. If she's awake she's, for lack of a better term, completely nuts. She's the crazy lady down the hall who keeps yelling, screaming, cursing. A geriatric psychologist was brought in to handle her case and for a while he just observed and also waited to see if she would regain her wits when the drugs wore off. She was given a 24 hour sitter so that they wouldn't have to physically restrain her but to her, the sitter is a jailer. She's physically weak, sometimes able to get out of bed with two people helping her, sometimes able to walk a couple of aided steps to the toilet, often unable to even sit up in bed or feed herself. She has strength in her grip but no coordination.
Yesterday I was there at lunch time while her personal doctor came to see her. She was hostile and dishonest to him, yelled at me, didn't focus on anything other than she had to get out of there and go home. The aide started to feed her lunch and I left to go back to work. My mom had been given her first cup of coffee since she arrived in the hospital; despite asking for it continually they didn't want to give caffeine to a cardiac patient. The aide handed her the cup, warned her that it was hot, and my mom threw it in her face. Right in her eyes. Luckily the poor woman was able to jump back and avoid most of it and wasn't hurt. My mom was proud that she had done this.
Never, and I mean never, in her 81 years has my mom physically abused someone. Verbally yes, rarely she's called someone a fucking bitch and yelled other obscenities. But then she'll quickly hightail it away since she really doesn't like confrontation or fighting or anger. Now she's reveling in it. If she were in her right mind she would be as horrified as I am.
Last night she was so out of control they again had to give her Ativan. This time it didn't even knock her out completely and only made her angrier and more agitated. Today they started her on a new regimen. The doc is trying out Depakote Sprinkles. Yes, they're putting magic fairy dust on her food. This was originally a seizure medication but is being used as a mood stabilizer. This stuff, according to the warnings, is heavy duty toxic and very dangerous. In addition, they're giving her Haldol injections every 8 hours as needed for agitation. Cripes, this stuff is even worse. The warnings clearly says "HALDOL Injection is not approved for the treatment of patients with dementia-related psychosis" and yet the doctor thinks it's the best choice.
When I arrived to see her today she was completely wild. The aide was tying padding on the bed rails to keep her from injuring herself. She demanded to be dressed and taken home. I tried being sweet and loving, she swore at me. As I bent over her bed, she reached up as if to lovingly cradle my face in her hands. As she touched my face her fingers curled up and she tried to claw my face; I backed up in shock. I tried being stern and told her she couldn't talk to people the way she was doing. She cursed. I tried yelling and she yelled back. She continued raving and tears came to my eyes. She smiled an evil smile and said she was glad I was crying. She varied from knowing who I was and then demanding that someone find Amy. Since she was just working herself up I left.
I'm crushed. Seeing your mother this way is something that nobody should ever have to go through. I close my eyes and can see her satisfaction that she was able to inflict damage, can see her wild eyes, hear her hate-filled voice. The doctors have no answers. They don't know if she is suffering permanent brain damage, if the dementia will return to the previous low level or if she'll even come out of this cycle of drugging and agitation.
I'm not an optimistic person by nature, but I need to hope that this isn't the end. I have to believe that sometime soon, within a couple of days, some combination of medications will make my mom calm and reasonable. But even then we need to somehow convince her that she can no longer live alone and certainly won't be able to drive again. There are decisions to make that don't have right answers. It won't be easy or quick or pretty or easy. I don't know what to do.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Habit
This blog has been an outlet for me, a catharsis of sorts, where I can say whatever I want and pretend that I'm talking to myself (while other people may or may not listen). The only times I've censored myself were last summer when I was so depressed (and even then I was blabbing on my alternate blog) and about family matters.
I've talked about my sis a lot, once in a while about my bro, but when it comes to my mom I only put in that I've spent mom time. I have such conflicted feelings for my mom that I have trouble expressing them to myself, let alone writing about them.
I'm the youngest of three kids, raised by a young single divorced mother in the days when there weren't many divorced parents. I was always mommy's girl and in some ways still am. But by the time I got to college my mom could never decide whether she wanted to be my friend or my parent and that caused conflict and friction. We developed a very stereotypical mother-daughter relationship of too much love and too much disagreement and too much time together.
My mom has always had a mean side, a caustic tongue, an anger at the world that things weren't working out how she planned. While younger she mostly hid that away because she avoided open conflict; she would just cut you off permanently if you crossed her. As she got older though, that internal filter ceased working. She started yelling, then cursing, then just being cantankerous and grouchy and mean.
She was also charming and funny and clever and intellectual and talented. Little bits of that still peek through, but mostly now she's just unhappy and angry. Her health is suffering, her body is betraying her and she refuses to believe she's slowing down and getting old. While she wants sympathy, she also rejects any offer of help unless it's from me (or from my brother). We don't help her nearly as much as she thinks we should. We'd have to move next door to her and become her personal slaves for her to think we help her enough. But since we won't, she continues to be independent and lives alone.
Last week, for the third time in a couple of months, she had chest pains and went to the hospital. The last time that happened they ran some tests, couldn't find anything wrong except for some gastric problems, and sent her home. This time it was a different medical staff and they decided that it could be serious so they wanted to keep her overnight for observation and more tests in the morning. She didn't like that, but went along with it.
You know how they say that hospitals are the worst place to be if you're sick? It came true this time. If you've been following my tweets you'll know that from the night she got there things have gone wrong. What started as overnight observation turned into over-medicating and discontinuity of care, causing her physical and mental harm.
The sedation is wearing off but it has resulted in confusion. My mom is acting exactly like a habitual drunk in the middle of a three day bender. She is under the impression that she is fine but she also has no strength, no coordination and no rational thought processes. She's agitated, loud, confused and angry. She's yelling and cursing at everyone, thinks she's in jail, can't understand a thing. It doesn't help that she keeps taking out her hearing aids and then can't even hear. She has regained just enough physical mobility to be a danger to herself.
We're told that by tomorrow she'll be better, her mental processes should be nearing what they were when she first got to the hospital and within days it will be like it never happened. We've also been told that she's on the way down the slippery slope of dementia and this same behavior could be her future. She will become physically weaker, more confused and unhappier with life. It probably won't be quick and probably will be drawn out and ugly.
It makes me ache to see my strong, beautiful, talented, funny, independent mother come to this. It's horrifying to think of how long she could be aware of her own decline and how much she'll deny its occurrence. She'll have good days, flashes of her old self. But meanwhile I'm left with knowing that even though she's still here, I've lost my mommy. All that remains to her is habit and instinct. It will have to be enough.
I've talked about my sis a lot, once in a while about my bro, but when it comes to my mom I only put in that I've spent mom time. I have such conflicted feelings for my mom that I have trouble expressing them to myself, let alone writing about them.
I'm the youngest of three kids, raised by a young single divorced mother in the days when there weren't many divorced parents. I was always mommy's girl and in some ways still am. But by the time I got to college my mom could never decide whether she wanted to be my friend or my parent and that caused conflict and friction. We developed a very stereotypical mother-daughter relationship of too much love and too much disagreement and too much time together.
My mom has always had a mean side, a caustic tongue, an anger at the world that things weren't working out how she planned. While younger she mostly hid that away because she avoided open conflict; she would just cut you off permanently if you crossed her. As she got older though, that internal filter ceased working. She started yelling, then cursing, then just being cantankerous and grouchy and mean.
She was also charming and funny and clever and intellectual and talented. Little bits of that still peek through, but mostly now she's just unhappy and angry. Her health is suffering, her body is betraying her and she refuses to believe she's slowing down and getting old. While she wants sympathy, she also rejects any offer of help unless it's from me (or from my brother). We don't help her nearly as much as she thinks we should. We'd have to move next door to her and become her personal slaves for her to think we help her enough. But since we won't, she continues to be independent and lives alone.
Last week, for the third time in a couple of months, she had chest pains and went to the hospital. The last time that happened they ran some tests, couldn't find anything wrong except for some gastric problems, and sent her home. This time it was a different medical staff and they decided that it could be serious so they wanted to keep her overnight for observation and more tests in the morning. She didn't like that, but went along with it.
You know how they say that hospitals are the worst place to be if you're sick? It came true this time. If you've been following my tweets you'll know that from the night she got there things have gone wrong. What started as overnight observation turned into over-medicating and discontinuity of care, causing her physical and mental harm.
The sedation is wearing off but it has resulted in confusion. My mom is acting exactly like a habitual drunk in the middle of a three day bender. She is under the impression that she is fine but she also has no strength, no coordination and no rational thought processes. She's agitated, loud, confused and angry. She's yelling and cursing at everyone, thinks she's in jail, can't understand a thing. It doesn't help that she keeps taking out her hearing aids and then can't even hear. She has regained just enough physical mobility to be a danger to herself.
We're told that by tomorrow she'll be better, her mental processes should be nearing what they were when she first got to the hospital and within days it will be like it never happened. We've also been told that she's on the way down the slippery slope of dementia and this same behavior could be her future. She will become physically weaker, more confused and unhappier with life. It probably won't be quick and probably will be drawn out and ugly.
It makes me ache to see my strong, beautiful, talented, funny, independent mother come to this. It's horrifying to think of how long she could be aware of her own decline and how much she'll deny its occurrence. She'll have good days, flashes of her old self. But meanwhile I'm left with knowing that even though she's still here, I've lost my mommy. All that remains to her is habit and instinct. It will have to be enough.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Good intentions pave the road to where?
Because of the extreme heat and crappy air quality, my plan this week was to get up very early and either run or cross train before work. I was successful on Monday; I wasn't sleeping anyway so I got up and did a lower body toning tape. I was unsuccessful today; I wasn't sleeping anyway and still reset my alarm for the regular time. Sigh. Before I left home I packed a bag so I'll be running after work. In the heat. And the smog.
It's definitely cooling though. In theory the air quality will be much better today than it's been, there's a good strong breeze through the trees. The horizon looks blue instead of sickly brown (but it's still a bit hazy) and that's a good sign too.
Chicago seems so far away, but it'll be here before I know it. In training-for-a-marathon terms, it's just a few long runs away. Well, several long runs away. But in order to do the long runs I need to keep up with the weekday training.
After my exhausting run on Saturday I was at my mom's house. She noticed how crappy and worn down I looked and asked me why I bothered with all of this. My answer was simply that there is nothing I love more than running marathons, and to do that I need to train. Regardless of weather or air quality or health or injuries, I need to have consistent mileage on my feet (preferably running) and regular toning and core work. My brain is well aware of this. Now I just have to convince the rest of me.
It's definitely cooling though. In theory the air quality will be much better today than it's been, there's a good strong breeze through the trees. The horizon looks blue instead of sickly brown (but it's still a bit hazy) and that's a good sign too.
Chicago seems so far away, but it'll be here before I know it. In training-for-a-marathon terms, it's just a few long runs away. Well, several long runs away. But in order to do the long runs I need to keep up with the weekday training.
After my exhausting run on Saturday I was at my mom's house. She noticed how crappy and worn down I looked and asked me why I bothered with all of this. My answer was simply that there is nothing I love more than running marathons, and to do that I need to train. Regardless of weather or air quality or health or injuries, I need to have consistent mileage on my feet (preferably running) and regular toning and core work. My brain is well aware of this. Now I just have to convince the rest of me.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
I didn't inhale ...
... when I was outside today since the air was so polluted. It's another Spare the Air Day in the Bay Area; unlike yesterday when the air was merely "Unhealthy for Sensitive Groups," today the air in the inland East Bay is plain old "Unhealthy." Yesterday I should have limited my outdoor exertions, today I should avoid them completely. Okey dokey, I'll stay inside with my air conditioning on. Come to think of it though, doesn't my excessive use of energy for said air conditioner contribute to the unhealthy air?
Despite the inability to breathe deeply I ran 13 miles yesterday. Fine, I "ran" 13 miles yesterday. Anita and I started our run on the Lafayette-Moraga Trail at 7:00 am hoping to beat the worst of the heat. We were only partially successful; by the time we finished it was only 80 degrees instead of the 100+ that came later. The early part of the run went pretty decently except for the stretch where I aspirated an insect. It was pretty gross, trying to cough up some gnat out of my lungs.
We had a surprise visitor during the run. As I was standing on the side of the trail trying to hack up the bug, Mary Ann caught up to us. We hadn't know she was coming so we didn't wait for her at the start. Since she didn't want to run more than 8 miles we only had a short time with her before she headed back, but it's good to run with her again.
At about 6 miles out we ran past the back of my nephew's school. I was pointing it out to Anita and didn't notice the very large lump on the pavement right in front of me. My toes jammed into it, I think I went just a little airborne, my face came within about a foot of the ground and somehow miraculously I caught my balance and kept running. But I had such a huge rush of adrenaline that I felt high. Within a very short time that surge was gone and I was left with trembling legs and little energy. But at least I wasn't wiping blood off my chin!
The return run wasn't nearly as pleasant as the outbound leg. I was feeling the effects of the air, the heat, the distance and my little trip. We did more walking than I would have liked but I continued to try to push it as fast as I could. We finished hot and tired and dehydrated but feeling quite pleased with ourselves for getting it done. I guess 13 miles is still 13 miles, no matter how ugly!
Despite the inability to breathe deeply I ran 13 miles yesterday. Fine, I "ran" 13 miles yesterday. Anita and I started our run on the Lafayette-Moraga Trail at 7:00 am hoping to beat the worst of the heat. We were only partially successful; by the time we finished it was only 80 degrees instead of the 100+ that came later. The early part of the run went pretty decently except for the stretch where I aspirated an insect. It was pretty gross, trying to cough up some gnat out of my lungs.
We had a surprise visitor during the run. As I was standing on the side of the trail trying to hack up the bug, Mary Ann caught up to us. We hadn't know she was coming so we didn't wait for her at the start. Since she didn't want to run more than 8 miles we only had a short time with her before she headed back, but it's good to run with her again.
At about 6 miles out we ran past the back of my nephew's school. I was pointing it out to Anita and didn't notice the very large lump on the pavement right in front of me. My toes jammed into it, I think I went just a little airborne, my face came within about a foot of the ground and somehow miraculously I caught my balance and kept running. But I had such a huge rush of adrenaline that I felt high. Within a very short time that surge was gone and I was left with trembling legs and little energy. But at least I wasn't wiping blood off my chin!
The return run wasn't nearly as pleasant as the outbound leg. I was feeling the effects of the air, the heat, the distance and my little trip. We did more walking than I would have liked but I continued to try to push it as fast as I could. We finished hot and tired and dehydrated but feeling quite pleased with ourselves for getting it done. I guess 13 miles is still 13 miles, no matter how ugly!
Friday, June 26, 2009
Now that it's summer
The Bay Area finally noticed that summer has officially started and presented us with glorious weather. The sky right now is about as blue as you'll ever see when you're staring wistfully out of your office window. While I'm not a big fan of running or cycling in it, the wind is fascinating to watch as it blows bits of the overgrown Eucalyptus trees all over the place. I see that the temp is currently 68 degrees, although I'm shivering in my over-air conditioned office. I'd love to be outside.
I'm pretty sure that back when I was about 30 I thought that by 55 I'd be seriously considering retirement, that I could do whatever I'd want because I'd be so financially secure that I wouldn't have to work. Uh, right. Although I'm feeling much older than then, I'm still thinking it will be at least another 10 years before the retirement bug bites me hard enough to get out of here.
All of which comes down to this. Why can't we be like civilized nations where hard-working people get several (or many) weeks of consecutive vacation time in the summer? Why do we feel guilty leaving work for longer than a week, why do we feel indispensable, why do we think things would fall apart without us? Or why do we feel that in this economy we're lucky to have a job at all, and if we take any vacation time the job might not be waiting for us when we return?
[edited to add: I thought I posted this yesterday after I wrote it. Whoops!]
I'm pretty sure that back when I was about 30 I thought that by 55 I'd be seriously considering retirement, that I could do whatever I'd want because I'd be so financially secure that I wouldn't have to work. Uh, right. Although I'm feeling much older than then, I'm still thinking it will be at least another 10 years before the retirement bug bites me hard enough to get out of here.
All of which comes down to this. Why can't we be like civilized nations where hard-working people get several (or many) weeks of consecutive vacation time in the summer? Why do we feel guilty leaving work for longer than a week, why do we feel indispensable, why do we think things would fall apart without us? Or why do we feel that in this economy we're lucky to have a job at all, and if we take any vacation time the job might not be waiting for us when we return?
[edited to add: I thought I posted this yesterday after I wrote it. Whoops!]
Monday, June 22, 2009
That was quick
I had a fabulous vacation. It was great to get away, my first do-nothing vacation in ... in ... in I can't remember how long. Most of my vacations involve running marathons which, although they're my favorite thing to do, aren't restful. In fact, they involve a certain amount of stress. Likewise my vacations with or visiting relatives. There is nobody in the world that I'd rather spend time with than my sis and I'd gladly spend each and every vacation and day off I have with her. But those don't tend to be restful vacations.
Vegas was 100% stress free and I accomplished my entire goal: nothing. My brain rested and for the first time in well over a year I didn't have a painful burning in my gut. I even slept, very unusual for any time, let alone in a hotel.
We sat in the sun, slathered with SPF 675 (or something like that) sunscreen, sipping frozen over-sized fruity alcoholic concoctions and watching all the (surgically and cosmetically enhanced) beautiful people. Lots of crispy critters, some even applying suntan lotion. I didn't know they made that any longer; why not just spray yourself with PAM and get it over with?
We went to an off-Strip salon and got nice, but short-lasting pedicures. We walked a couple of miles in flip flops (objects in the distance are further than they seem) (and, ouch). We played slots (you notice I don't say "we gambled" because my gambling luck is nonexistent and I just do it for entertainment). Bree played a bit of poker while I stayed away so that my negative luck didn't rub off on her.
Meals were whenever, whatever we wanted. Sometimes we split things, other times we each found something special we just had to eat. We only had two meals each day but they were winners each time. From the Reuben (my annual beef-fest), to the Puck pizza and salad, to the mussels to the "S" pretzel, I enjoyed every bite. And every sip.
One morning we got up early, way early, and went for a 4+ mile run along the Strip. The weather was perfect for running and my breathing was the best it's been for ages. It was fun seeing the early morning people and the surprising number of other runners. The early morning workout made us feel virtuous and allowed to indulge the rest of the day. Fine, we probably burned 300 calories and then consumed 3000 but that wasn't the point.
Our biggest splurge was going to see "The Showgirl Must Go On" with the Divine Miss M. We had close-up but slightly off center seats to watch Bette Midler , the Harlettes and a chorus of showgirls put on a big gaudy Las Vegas performance. It was worth every cent we paid, and maybe even more than that. We would have preferred that the loud, pushy, opinionated heartland woman sitting with her minions behind us would have shut her mouth, but at least she didn't talk during the show. The glitter, the songs, the sets, the dancing, the wheelchairs, the mermaids, the laughs; it was all there.
But good times couldn't last forever. Within hours of stepping off the plane my breathing got worse, the burning restarted in my stomach, my brain started spinning and I resumed my normal insomnia. I washed everything I had with me to remove the smoke odor, put everything away and it was as if I had never left.
An almost 10 mile run on Saturday helped me relax but the rest of the day was the same as all my weekends and the relaxation didn't last. Nobody said it would be easy. Now it's time to start serious training for our next event, the one after that and the one after that. Setting goals and reaching them, moving on to the next, not punishing myself for any setbacks.
It sure was fun escaping real life for a short time. Now, I need a vacation.
Vegas was 100% stress free and I accomplished my entire goal: nothing. My brain rested and for the first time in well over a year I didn't have a painful burning in my gut. I even slept, very unusual for any time, let alone in a hotel.
We sat in the sun, slathered with SPF 675 (or something like that) sunscreen, sipping frozen over-sized fruity alcoholic concoctions and watching all the (surgically and cosmetically enhanced) beautiful people. Lots of crispy critters, some even applying suntan lotion. I didn't know they made that any longer; why not just spray yourself with PAM and get it over with?
We went to an off-Strip salon and got nice, but short-lasting pedicures. We walked a couple of miles in flip flops (objects in the distance are further than they seem) (and, ouch). We played slots (you notice I don't say "we gambled" because my gambling luck is nonexistent and I just do it for entertainment). Bree played a bit of poker while I stayed away so that my negative luck didn't rub off on her.
Meals were whenever, whatever we wanted. Sometimes we split things, other times we each found something special we just had to eat. We only had two meals each day but they were winners each time. From the Reuben (my annual beef-fest), to the Puck pizza and salad, to the mussels to the "S" pretzel, I enjoyed every bite. And every sip.
One morning we got up early, way early, and went for a 4+ mile run along the Strip. The weather was perfect for running and my breathing was the best it's been for ages. It was fun seeing the early morning people and the surprising number of other runners. The early morning workout made us feel virtuous and allowed to indulge the rest of the day. Fine, we probably burned 300 calories and then consumed 3000 but that wasn't the point.
Our biggest splurge was going to see "The Showgirl Must Go On" with the Divine Miss M. We had close-up but slightly off center seats to watch Bette Midler , the Harlettes and a chorus of showgirls put on a big gaudy Las Vegas performance. It was worth every cent we paid, and maybe even more than that. We would have preferred that the loud, pushy, opinionated heartland woman sitting with her minions behind us would have shut her mouth, but at least she didn't talk during the show. The glitter, the songs, the sets, the dancing, the wheelchairs, the mermaids, the laughs; it was all there.
But good times couldn't last forever. Within hours of stepping off the plane my breathing got worse, the burning restarted in my stomach, my brain started spinning and I resumed my normal insomnia. I washed everything I had with me to remove the smoke odor, put everything away and it was as if I had never left.
An almost 10 mile run on Saturday helped me relax but the rest of the day was the same as all my weekends and the relaxation didn't last. Nobody said it would be easy. Now it's time to start serious training for our next event, the one after that and the one after that. Setting goals and reaching them, moving on to the next, not punishing myself for any setbacks.
It sure was fun escaping real life for a short time. Now, I need a vacation.
Monday, June 15, 2009
I need a vacation now
In honor of absolutely nothing, in support of absolutely nothing, after training for absolutely nothing I'm taking a vacation. That should probably be "vacation" since it's only for three nights but nonetheless. It's vacation.Three nights away baking my brains in the desert heat. And maybe even in the dessert heat.
No muss, no fuss, no worries and no stress. I can do what I want, when I want, how I want. Within limits of course since I'm not traveling alone. I'm taking things for knitting, reading, listening and watching. Running and swimming too, but those might take a back seat.
I'm too old to party all night even if I had the energy to, but I intend to paint the town -- er -- pink? Painting the town red seems like too much work, so pink it is.
See you next week!
No muss, no fuss, no worries and no stress. I can do what I want, when I want, how I want. Within limits of course since I'm not traveling alone. I'm taking things for knitting, reading, listening and watching. Running and swimming too, but those might take a back seat.
I'm too old to party all night even if I had the energy to, but I intend to paint the town -- er -- pink? Painting the town red seems like too much work, so pink it is.
See you next week!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Mermaid Duathlon Report
I was having second thoughts about the whole thing when I dragged my sorry butt out of bed at 4:15 am Sunday morning. A duathlon? Even a sprint duathlon was more than I'd ever done. Since turning over and going back to sleep wasn't an option I started my pre-race morning rituals and got out of the house on time at 5:15.
The whole Mermaid Series was new to me. I had seen their races advertised but hadn't gotten around to doing one. I hadn't even talked with anyone who did their races. Although I thought the duathlon was maybe an afterthought to their regular triathlon, I hadn't been swimming since last year and decided run/bike/run made more sense to me than swim/bike/run. The race took place at Quarry Lakes Regional Recreation Area in Fremont. I've been running on the Alameda Creek Trail since my first marathon season in 2001 but I've never even known that Quarry Lakes existed. It turned out to be a very pleasant surprise and a lovely place.
You know how I like arriving early for things, at worst arriving right on time. Once again I misjudged; I had allotted 45 minutes for the drive and it took way less. I arrived as they were setting up registration. Although there had been packet pick-up the day before, it was in Sunnyvale and there was no way I was going to take the whole day going there and back. I was the first in line for the duathlon pick-up and after the volunteers had been instructed in the procedures I got my numbers, goody bag, chip and shirt.
front of the shirt
I grabbed my bike and pack from the car and headed over to the transition area. Before I was allowed in I had my left arm, hand and calf marked with my number. It appeared that the volunteers manning the markers hadn't been told what to put where. Some of the duathlon participants had a "D" along with their age, some had only the "D" and some had only their age. Some women just skipped marking altogether. This did make it tough during the race to determine who were your age group competitors.
Since I was there so early I had my choice of racking spot. The racks were arranged by age group with the family/friends and duathlon groups racking together at the front. I got a primo end spot and set out my gear, checking and double checking to confirm everything was in order. Slowly the area filled up but at least around me it never got crowded or cramped.
The weather at that point, and until well after I finished, was overcast and cool with very little wind. It was perfect for running, perfect for cycling. It was light enough for sunglasses but not so bright that I had to squint. The weather became a total non-issue.
Nobody was too sure where the start for the duathlon (or the run in from the first run) was located. I walked around to confirm the other ins and outs and wandered to the beach area to look around. I made a couple of trips to the bathrooms (which were real bathrooms, not porta potties); the lines weren't at all bad.
At about 7:15 I walked down to the beach with a bunch of other women who obviously were doing the du (they had on running shoes instead of bare feet). The first wave of the triathlon was starting at the same time as the du. Many of the tri women were wearing wetsuits but there were others just in swimsuits, tri suits or even just regular running/cycling clothes.
The organizer walked over to one spot and drew a line in the sand; that was our starting point. Although this was a chip timed race, the start didn't have a mat. We all milled around and realized we had to run through the sand for a couple hundred yards before the road. Yuck. There was one horn that sounded at 7:30 and we were off!
Slipping and sliding, I quickly fell to the back of the pack (not a very big pack, less than 100 women) on the very thick, very soft sand. I wanted to run my own pace and not be influenced by speedy starters but I also wanted to push and see what I could do. Once we got on the road, a gravel access road/trail, I was able to pick up some speed. Since the first run was only 1.5 miles I figured I could push myself much harder than I would otherwise.
The course was supposed to be flat, but there were definitely a couple of little hills. A short 25' or 50' climb is not flat, no matter how you cut it. The route was kind of pretty along the water and through the greens. I ran right on the edge of wheezing and soon found myself back at the sand. I saw we had to run along the water to the same spot where the triathletes exited; there was a timing mat right there, then we had to run up the sand, along the walk and into transition. According to Mr. Garmin it was 1.54 miles, average 11:15/mile (I know! I don't run that fast!).
Mostly because of the distance it took me 3:57 in T1. Although I quickly stripped off my running shoes and threw on my cycling stuff, there still was a long way from mat to mat. I got out on the course and set to work.
The route was 3 circuits of a twisty 3 mile route. I was later told that Union City got pissy about the race using the roads and this route was a last minute change. Despite being advertised as a flat route, we had to cross an overpass each loop, both directions. To me, for the first 2 circuits at least, it wasn't much. But I saw several women struggling, slowing and straggling. That wouldn't have been an issue except both directions were sharing one traffic lane; we had to go single file over the overpass with no passing. A few of the intense racing women had trouble with that; I could see them literally bouncing on their bikes, wanting to get around the slower riders.
My biggest problem was when there was a woman walking her bike up; I had to go around her and the people behind me did too. Road etiquette on the route was hit and miss; mostly women went single file and pulled to the right after passing, calling out when they came up beside you. There unfortunately were those other women who rode 3 across, blocking anyone behind them. A couple of the fastest women were scooting along on the right, weaving in and out, getting impatient with the rookies out there. My opinion was they should go for a race where there isn't a "family and friends" category, that doesn't encourage beginners to enter and compete at their own pace. Sure, you can challenge yourself but remember where you are and cut a little slack.
Anyway, I rode pretty hard and by the end of my third circuit I could feel my legs getting weaker. I was happy to get to the end and hop off. According to Mr. Garmin, 9.3 miles with a 14.3 average. Not too bad, but I thought I had gone faster (according to the official results I averaged 15.2 mph which seems more accurate). T2 was faster with a time of 2:40.
I started running the second route and realized after a few minutes that I had made a big mistake: I didn't eat the gel that was sitting right on top of my running cap. Uh oh. I'd been working hard for almost an hour and all I had consumed were 2 Sport Beans while I was on the bike. At least I had been drinking while on the bike so I wasn't dehydrated. But I was feeling lightheaded and weak.
I slowed way down, and walked up the hills. I also threw in a couple of 30 second walk breaks here and there when I got woozy. When I could I continued running as hard as I could but it was more of a shuffle than a run. No matter, I was shuffling quickly. I managed to take the time to check out the scenery, smile at the other people, think about how lucky I was to be out there. Before I knew it I was back at the beach and running on the damn sand.
I'm glad I'll never know how clumsy I must have looked running along the beach. The sand was deep and soft and rutted from all the others who had run ahead of me. At the end of the sand we had to make a sharp right turn, step up a curb and run up a grassy hill. Man, that was tough for me. I had left everything I had on the course and couldn't make the final sprint look good. I finished that 2.64 miles with a 12:22 average, faster than I had expected.
My final time was 1:35:32. I was happy with that as my new duathlon PR. Since duathlons come in all shapes and sizes it could stay a PR for this particular distance combination. I was in the last quarter of finishers of the duathlon but everyone behind me was younger than I was.
After crossing the line they collected our chips and gave us our finishers medal (and chocolate!). The picture doesn't do the medal justice, it's hard to photograph a shiny little silver object. On one side it says "live, train, sweat and laugh' and the other side "mermaid athlete."
the medal is shiny silver, same as the chain (stupid camera)
Bottles of water were handed out right at the finish, and then there were booths with several vendors. There were samples of many products including Luna, and sponsor vendors selling sports gear, clothing, and other stuff. There was also a free pancake breakfast with fresh fruit and other treats. Very tasty.
Although I wasn't sure, I had a feeling I could possibly be one of the age group winners since I hadn't seen many women with numbers in my age group written on their legs. I knew that one 57 year old had passed me on the second run, I saw a few other women who might have been my age who weren't marked, and a few that I was certain had done the tri, but there was a chance since it was such a small race. I decided to stick around to see if I won something.
It turned out to be quite a wait. There was some problem getting the results out and posted so I plopped myself down on the grass and watched the rest of the athletes finish. There were still quite a few since the last wave went out an hour and a half after the first wave (mine). Each and every woman had her name called out, spurring them up that last hill. It was touching to see many women finish their first event ever, cheered on by their family and friends.
Aaaaaand, I kept waiting. Finally they posted the results but it wasn't broken out by age group. When I was able to get through the crowd I checked the list, checked it again, and rechecked it one final time. Whoohoo, I was second in my group!
Fine, I was also last in my group, there were only two of us (the first had been the woman passing me during the second run). The other women I though were in my age group ended up being either in their 40's or early 50's. Whoopsie. I won't tell them I thought they were older than me.
It was still some time before awards were handed out and the crowd thinned considerably. Little prizes were being handed out for various things like answering questions about the race, or being a Little Mermaid, or having your birthday that week. I think they were just blowing off time until the results were tabulated. My guess is there were problems with the bike route being 3 circuits and some women only riding 2 of those. Some of the bike splits were suspiciously fast and I think they were trying to verify those.
Finally the overall awards were distributed, then the tri age groupers. Finally the du age awards were handed out. I got a nice little bag containing a pair of mermaid socks, a race belt and a few Luna bars. Also? It's pretty damn cool getting your name called as a winner (even if the pool is so small). Worth waiting for!
My overall impressions? Even though I was alone I had fun and a challenge. Both the tri and du are great races for beginners or those trying to challenge themselves. I don't think it's really a race for experts unless the bike route is improved. The overall organization was very good with only a couple of glitches (the body marking and the delay in the results). Course support was excellent, both along the running trails and the cycling route. It also looked like there were many volunteers in the water to help out the swimmers. The running route was scenic and the surface didn't give my clumsy ankles any problems. The bike route was crap, but that wasn't the organizer's fault. The shirt was cute, the bag was nice, the food available afterward was abundant and tasty. I will definitely do it again as long as it remains in a location that's accessible (I was told they'd probably move it next year).
And next year? The rest of you 55-59 year old women can just stay home again. I like placing in my age group!
The whole Mermaid Series was new to me. I had seen their races advertised but hadn't gotten around to doing one. I hadn't even talked with anyone who did their races. Although I thought the duathlon was maybe an afterthought to their regular triathlon, I hadn't been swimming since last year and decided run/bike/run made more sense to me than swim/bike/run. The race took place at Quarry Lakes Regional Recreation Area in Fremont. I've been running on the Alameda Creek Trail since my first marathon season in 2001 but I've never even known that Quarry Lakes existed. It turned out to be a very pleasant surprise and a lovely place.
You know how I like arriving early for things, at worst arriving right on time. Once again I misjudged; I had allotted 45 minutes for the drive and it took way less. I arrived as they were setting up registration. Although there had been packet pick-up the day before, it was in Sunnyvale and there was no way I was going to take the whole day going there and back. I was the first in line for the duathlon pick-up and after the volunteers had been instructed in the procedures I got my numbers, goody bag, chip and shirt.
The bag was a reusable shopping bag with the logo, very cute. The shirt was a cotton short sleeved tee. There wasn't much in the bag beyond ads, discount coupons, a mini-Luna bar and Luna Moons and a sample of Sport-Wash, but the bag itself was nice.
front of the shirtI grabbed my bike and pack from the car and headed over to the transition area. Before I was allowed in I had my left arm, hand and calf marked with my number. It appeared that the volunteers manning the markers hadn't been told what to put where. Some of the duathlon participants had a "D" along with their age, some had only the "D" and some had only their age. Some women just skipped marking altogether. This did make it tough during the race to determine who were your age group competitors.
Since I was there so early I had my choice of racking spot. The racks were arranged by age group with the family/friends and duathlon groups racking together at the front. I got a primo end spot and set out my gear, checking and double checking to confirm everything was in order. Slowly the area filled up but at least around me it never got crowded or cramped.
The weather at that point, and until well after I finished, was overcast and cool with very little wind. It was perfect for running, perfect for cycling. It was light enough for sunglasses but not so bright that I had to squint. The weather became a total non-issue.
Nobody was too sure where the start for the duathlon (or the run in from the first run) was located. I walked around to confirm the other ins and outs and wandered to the beach area to look around. I made a couple of trips to the bathrooms (which were real bathrooms, not porta potties); the lines weren't at all bad.
At about 7:15 I walked down to the beach with a bunch of other women who obviously were doing the du (they had on running shoes instead of bare feet). The first wave of the triathlon was starting at the same time as the du. Many of the tri women were wearing wetsuits but there were others just in swimsuits, tri suits or even just regular running/cycling clothes.
The organizer walked over to one spot and drew a line in the sand; that was our starting point. Although this was a chip timed race, the start didn't have a mat. We all milled around and realized we had to run through the sand for a couple hundred yards before the road. Yuck. There was one horn that sounded at 7:30 and we were off!
Slipping and sliding, I quickly fell to the back of the pack (not a very big pack, less than 100 women) on the very thick, very soft sand. I wanted to run my own pace and not be influenced by speedy starters but I also wanted to push and see what I could do. Once we got on the road, a gravel access road/trail, I was able to pick up some speed. Since the first run was only 1.5 miles I figured I could push myself much harder than I would otherwise.
The course was supposed to be flat, but there were definitely a couple of little hills. A short 25' or 50' climb is not flat, no matter how you cut it. The route was kind of pretty along the water and through the greens. I ran right on the edge of wheezing and soon found myself back at the sand. I saw we had to run along the water to the same spot where the triathletes exited; there was a timing mat right there, then we had to run up the sand, along the walk and into transition. According to Mr. Garmin it was 1.54 miles, average 11:15/mile (I know! I don't run that fast!).
Mostly because of the distance it took me 3:57 in T1. Although I quickly stripped off my running shoes and threw on my cycling stuff, there still was a long way from mat to mat. I got out on the course and set to work.
The route was 3 circuits of a twisty 3 mile route. I was later told that Union City got pissy about the race using the roads and this route was a last minute change. Despite being advertised as a flat route, we had to cross an overpass each loop, both directions. To me, for the first 2 circuits at least, it wasn't much. But I saw several women struggling, slowing and straggling. That wouldn't have been an issue except both directions were sharing one traffic lane; we had to go single file over the overpass with no passing. A few of the intense racing women had trouble with that; I could see them literally bouncing on their bikes, wanting to get around the slower riders.
My biggest problem was when there was a woman walking her bike up; I had to go around her and the people behind me did too. Road etiquette on the route was hit and miss; mostly women went single file and pulled to the right after passing, calling out when they came up beside you. There unfortunately were those other women who rode 3 across, blocking anyone behind them. A couple of the fastest women were scooting along on the right, weaving in and out, getting impatient with the rookies out there. My opinion was they should go for a race where there isn't a "family and friends" category, that doesn't encourage beginners to enter and compete at their own pace. Sure, you can challenge yourself but remember where you are and cut a little slack.
Anyway, I rode pretty hard and by the end of my third circuit I could feel my legs getting weaker. I was happy to get to the end and hop off. According to Mr. Garmin, 9.3 miles with a 14.3 average. Not too bad, but I thought I had gone faster (according to the official results I averaged 15.2 mph which seems more accurate). T2 was faster with a time of 2:40.
I started running the second route and realized after a few minutes that I had made a big mistake: I didn't eat the gel that was sitting right on top of my running cap. Uh oh. I'd been working hard for almost an hour and all I had consumed were 2 Sport Beans while I was on the bike. At least I had been drinking while on the bike so I wasn't dehydrated. But I was feeling lightheaded and weak.
I slowed way down, and walked up the hills. I also threw in a couple of 30 second walk breaks here and there when I got woozy. When I could I continued running as hard as I could but it was more of a shuffle than a run. No matter, I was shuffling quickly. I managed to take the time to check out the scenery, smile at the other people, think about how lucky I was to be out there. Before I knew it I was back at the beach and running on the damn sand.
I'm glad I'll never know how clumsy I must have looked running along the beach. The sand was deep and soft and rutted from all the others who had run ahead of me. At the end of the sand we had to make a sharp right turn, step up a curb and run up a grassy hill. Man, that was tough for me. I had left everything I had on the course and couldn't make the final sprint look good. I finished that 2.64 miles with a 12:22 average, faster than I had expected.
My final time was 1:35:32. I was happy with that as my new duathlon PR. Since duathlons come in all shapes and sizes it could stay a PR for this particular distance combination. I was in the last quarter of finishers of the duathlon but everyone behind me was younger than I was.
After crossing the line they collected our chips and gave us our finishers medal (and chocolate!). The picture doesn't do the medal justice, it's hard to photograph a shiny little silver object. On one side it says "live, train, sweat and laugh' and the other side "mermaid athlete."
the medal is shiny silver, same as the chain (stupid camera)Bottles of water were handed out right at the finish, and then there were booths with several vendors. There were samples of many products including Luna, and sponsor vendors selling sports gear, clothing, and other stuff. There was also a free pancake breakfast with fresh fruit and other treats. Very tasty.
Although I wasn't sure, I had a feeling I could possibly be one of the age group winners since I hadn't seen many women with numbers in my age group written on their legs. I knew that one 57 year old had passed me on the second run, I saw a few other women who might have been my age who weren't marked, and a few that I was certain had done the tri, but there was a chance since it was such a small race. I decided to stick around to see if I won something.
It turned out to be quite a wait. There was some problem getting the results out and posted so I plopped myself down on the grass and watched the rest of the athletes finish. There were still quite a few since the last wave went out an hour and a half after the first wave (mine). Each and every woman had her name called out, spurring them up that last hill. It was touching to see many women finish their first event ever, cheered on by their family and friends.
Aaaaaand, I kept waiting. Finally they posted the results but it wasn't broken out by age group. When I was able to get through the crowd I checked the list, checked it again, and rechecked it one final time. Whoohoo, I was second in my group!
Fine, I was also last in my group, there were only two of us (the first had been the woman passing me during the second run). The other women I though were in my age group ended up being either in their 40's or early 50's. Whoopsie. I won't tell them I thought they were older than me.
It was still some time before awards were handed out and the crowd thinned considerably. Little prizes were being handed out for various things like answering questions about the race, or being a Little Mermaid, or having your birthday that week. I think they were just blowing off time until the results were tabulated. My guess is there were problems with the bike route being 3 circuits and some women only riding 2 of those. Some of the bike splits were suspiciously fast and I think they were trying to verify those.
Finally the overall awards were distributed, then the tri age groupers. Finally the du age awards were handed out. I got a nice little bag containing a pair of mermaid socks, a race belt and a few Luna bars. Also? It's pretty damn cool getting your name called as a winner (even if the pool is so small). Worth waiting for!
My overall impressions? Even though I was alone I had fun and a challenge. Both the tri and du are great races for beginners or those trying to challenge themselves. I don't think it's really a race for experts unless the bike route is improved. The overall organization was very good with only a couple of glitches (the body marking and the delay in the results). Course support was excellent, both along the running trails and the cycling route. It also looked like there were many volunteers in the water to help out the swimmers. The running route was scenic and the surface didn't give my clumsy ankles any problems. The bike route was crap, but that wasn't the organizer's fault. The shirt was cute, the bag was nice, the food available afterward was abundant and tasty. I will definitely do it again as long as it remains in a location that's accessible (I was told they'd probably move it next year).
And next year? The rest of you 55-59 year old women can just stay home again. I like placing in my age group!
The high cost of racing
I realize that hobbies are very expensive (silk yarn anyone?) but it's sad how very expensive it is to enter a race. Even the local races that used to be relatively inexpensive have become outrageously priced.
I entered the lottery to run the Nike Women's Marathon Half Marathon: $100. I signed up for the Chicago Marathon the day registration opened: $125. I registered for the See Jane Run Half Marathon a month before the race: $91.99. That same day, more than a month in advance I registered for the Mermaid Triathlon duathlon: $65.30.
A couple of days ago I registered for the San Francisco Marathon, second half marathon. It was before the cut-off date before the prices went up again. The registration was directly on the SF Marathon website, instead of through Active or Signmeup or another site. It clearly stated the fee was $85. A lot of money, but I sucked it up and registered since I like the race. After I had filled out the very long form, completed all the blanks, I was told I was being charged a $6.03 "convenience fee." I looked all over the website and could not find anywhere that mentioned this fee, nor did I see any other means of registering. In other words, the registration fee was $91.03. Sure, it's not much of a difference but it's very deceitful to call this a "convenience fee" since there isn't any other way to register.
I realize it's expensive to put on a good race these days, even if most of the products consumed are donated by a sponsor. Some races give all their profit to some charitable organization (um, define "profit" for me, will ya?) others plow it back into next year's race. I think only the biggest marathons are making lots of money (yes New York, I'm talking about you) but it would be interesting seeing a sample or typical race budget.
I don't even mind paying the registration fees IF THERE'S ANOTHER WAY TO REGISTER! If registering on-line on the race's website is the only way to sign up, be honest and include the "convenience fee" in the registration price. It's hard enough for most people to justify the price when they're trying to pay their health insurance costs. Don't be dishonest about what we're paying!
I entered the lottery to run the Nike Women's Marathon Half Marathon: $100. I signed up for the Chicago Marathon the day registration opened: $125. I registered for the See Jane Run Half Marathon a month before the race: $91.99. That same day, more than a month in advance I registered for the Mermaid Triathlon duathlon: $65.30.
A couple of days ago I registered for the San Francisco Marathon, second half marathon. It was before the cut-off date before the prices went up again. The registration was directly on the SF Marathon website, instead of through Active or Signmeup or another site. It clearly stated the fee was $85. A lot of money, but I sucked it up and registered since I like the race. After I had filled out the very long form, completed all the blanks, I was told I was being charged a $6.03 "convenience fee." I looked all over the website and could not find anywhere that mentioned this fee, nor did I see any other means of registering. In other words, the registration fee was $91.03. Sure, it's not much of a difference but it's very deceitful to call this a "convenience fee" since there isn't any other way to register.
I realize it's expensive to put on a good race these days, even if most of the products consumed are donated by a sponsor. Some races give all their profit to some charitable organization (um, define "profit" for me, will ya?) others plow it back into next year's race. I think only the biggest marathons are making lots of money (yes New York, I'm talking about you) but it would be interesting seeing a sample or typical race budget.
I don't even mind paying the registration fees IF THERE'S ANOTHER WAY TO REGISTER! If registering on-line on the race's website is the only way to sign up, be honest and include the "convenience fee" in the registration price. It's hard enough for most people to justify the price when they're trying to pay their health insurance costs. Don't be dishonest about what we're paying!
Monday, June 8, 2009
Indelible
You know how at a triathlon they mark you with your age and number? You didn't? Well, they take a thick black (or I've seen red too) felt marker or grease pen and write your race number on your arm and hand. The hand part is in case you're wearing a wetsuit. They also write your age on the back of your calf. This is so that people contending for an age group award will know their direct competitors.
The marking for a duathlon is the same. For the next few days, despite intense scrubbing, whenever I wear shorts it will be quite apparent how old I am. I'm just hoping it hasn't tanned into my leg!
My first duathlon went well. I'll have a race report up soon. Soon after I write it, that is.
The marking for a duathlon is the same. For the next few days, despite intense scrubbing, whenever I wear shorts it will be quite apparent how old I am. I'm just hoping it hasn't tanned into my leg!
My first duathlon went well. I'll have a race report up soon. Soon after I write it, that is.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Coo who?
It appears that the dirty filthy pigeon who had take up residence on my jasmine hedge has flown the coop. Monday night the bird was sitting there glaring at me but Tuesday morning the nest was empty. I saw two pigeons cavorting on my fence and thought that I should take the opportunity to dart out and knock the nest away.
Then I realized I'm basically a nice person and I couldn't do that if there were eggs or baby birdies present. Darn. The fence pigeons stared at me, took off and circled the yard, then settled back on the fence. I argued with myself and ended up leaving the nest alone.
I looked outside Tuesday night after I got home and the bird still, or again, wasn't back in the nest. I tried to see if there was anything in it, but it was above my eye level. I decided that it must mean that the birds were gone for good and this time went to find a broom.
Wow, sloppy nest builders! What I dislodged was less a nest and more a pile of pine needles, dead leaves, twigs, feathers and trash. It had no form and didn't stick together at all. How the bird sat on it without falling through amazes me. I checked the debris pile and didn't see anything resembling egg shells so I'm not worried that I disturbed a happy family.
From now on I'm keeping an eye on the jasmine to make sure nothing else builds a home there.
Then I realized I'm basically a nice person and I couldn't do that if there were eggs or baby birdies present. Darn. The fence pigeons stared at me, took off and circled the yard, then settled back on the fence. I argued with myself and ended up leaving the nest alone.
I looked outside Tuesday night after I got home and the bird still, or again, wasn't back in the nest. I tried to see if there was anything in it, but it was above my eye level. I decided that it must mean that the birds were gone for good and this time went to find a broom.
Wow, sloppy nest builders! What I dislodged was less a nest and more a pile of pine needles, dead leaves, twigs, feathers and trash. It had no form and didn't stick together at all. How the bird sat on it without falling through amazes me. I checked the debris pile and didn't see anything resembling egg shells so I'm not worried that I disturbed a happy family.
From now on I'm keeping an eye on the jasmine to make sure nothing else builds a home there.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
See Jane Run Half Marathon Report
Yippee, a race!
(objects in pictures are less clear than in real life - stupid camera)Well, that was tougher than expected. At least they had chocolate!
Probably as a result of ridiculously long lines last year, part of the early packet pickup process for this year's See Jane Run Half Marathon included chip pickup at the Oakland See Jane Run store. Although I wanted to see the newer store in Danville I decided to trek into Oakland Wednesday night to get my packet. The process was quick and smooth. I got my bib, bag, shirt and chip, checked the store in case they had anything I needed to buy (they didn't) and I was on my way.
Last year the goody bag was a wonderful reusable shopping bag. This year it was a typical plastic bag. Included were a mini Secret deodorant (trying to tell us something?), a white chocolate macadamia Luna Bar, a couple of sample packets of Life Fitness Instant Energy Beans (80 mg of caffeine and 200 mcg B-12 per packet; I'd be more hyped than if I was smoking crack), a sample of Flex Power Pain Relief Cream, a $20 off $75 See Jane Run coupon and a bunch of other ads and race fliers.
The chip was one of those Eternal Timing tags; a big hard cardboard-like thing. I'm not fond of them because of the size, even if they are lightweight they don't really fit right when your foot bends. I also find them more difficult to attach to my shoe but that could be because I'm so used to the real chips.
front of the shirtThe shirt was again a light-weight Moving Comfort white v-necked short sleeved tech shirt. Forgetting how big they ran last year, I ordered a 1X. I'll be happy sleeping in it, it's way too big. How odd that a race, even a race for women, actually gets shirts in real sizes. Hopefully next year I'll remember to order my real size instead of going up a couple of sizes. As I'm not fond of white shirts I don't mind that I won't be running in it.
back of the shirtEven though the previous weekend I had a great run I knew I wouldn't do as well at the race because my breathing wasn't smooth for the past few days. When I got up on Sunday it was overcast and cold and I had hopes that my sinuses and lungs would be happy with that but no such luck. I revised my estimated finishing time from about 3 hours to hopefully about 3 hours.
With my wonderful grasp of directions I decided I'd better cough up the extra $5 parking fee for the lot near the start and finish areas. I had visions of wandering around for hours after the race, looking for my car. For my sanity I parked in a location I could find later. The paying/parking process went quiet smoothly so I was very early for the race. It was due to start at 8:00 am and I got there before 7:00. I wandered over to the start, used the porta potties a couple of times and stood in line to check my sweatshirt.
And stood in line. And stood. The gear was being stowed in plastic garbage bags and tossed in the back of a truck. People would get to the table, bag their stuff, tear off the bottom of their bib and attach it to the bag. This was taking forever. It was getting closer to the start and the line snaked around the entire area and finally someone had the genius idea to go down the line and pass out the bags so that they just needed to be turned in. Perfect, line gone!
I think there were about 1500 people running the half and around 1000 running the 5k which started a bit later. The area was crowded with women and their families. It was obvious that there were some people who had done this many other times, and some people who were running (or walking) their first race. I saw maybe a dozen men with bibs and I'm not sure how many actually did the race. Although there were pace markers along the road I saw many people obviously lining up too close to the front.
The gun (or whatever it was, I didn't hear) went off a little late but even way back in the last group it didn't take much time to cross the start line. I had on a tank top and shorts with gloves and standing around I was shivering. I started off very smoothly and slowly, trying to keep myself from having breathing problems right at the beginning. It worked well since we also had a tail wind there. The large group pounded down the street.
I tossed the gloves after about a mile or two and heated up (have I mentioned that my internal thermostat has been wonky lately?) more than I had hoped. It was completely overcast, about the mid-50's and windy. Since it was behind me I didn't mind the wind at all but I wouldn't feel the same when we were going the return direction.
It was fun doing some people-watching and eavesdropping on some conversations. We women sure do chatter when we're running and not trying to win a race, don't we? I felt good the first 3 miles until we hit the bridge, then slowed down some. By 5 miles my breathing was getting bad and my legs were getting tired. I understood the first but the second had me baffled. I had done good training, I had eaten well during the week, it should have been easier.
By mile 8 my 9:1 run:walk was out the window. I was doing a steady 4:1 at that point and it was working to clear my lungs and rest my legs. But at about mile 10 I was toast. Legs and lungs were rebelling and my brain wasn't very happy. We were on the trail at that point and I got pretty grumpy because of two things.
There was a woman who was doing what I thought was a 2:2 run:walk and we kept leapfrogging past each other. Her watch or whatever beeped her intervals was loud. Annoyingly loud. Because we were such polite women we'd pass each other then move over to the right. So instead of going straight it was weave around, weave back, weave around, weave back. I tried walking more and it didn't help. I tried running more and that didn't help. I tried running and walking her exact pace to stay behind her and that didn't even work. As the trail was congested it was very annoying (and I imagine I annoyed her as much as she annoyed me).
One point of repeated congestion was a group of deaf cyclists. Actually, deaf bike riders since I hesitate to call them cyclists. One young woman was wearing flip flops and it would be upgrading some of the bikes to call them beaters. I think they were a tour group and yay good for them for getting out and enjoying the shoreline, but it was readily apparent that there was a race going on and they could have used a little courtesy because hey, they were deaf, not blind. Their leader would speed ahead and stop to let the rest catch up. And they'd all block the trail while waiting. Then they'd pass again, one by one, sporadically, without (of course) calling out to let us know they were coming. Then it would happen all over again.
As a frequent trail user I'm a firm believer in sharing the trail with others, be they runners, walkers, cyclists, skaters, families, dogs, whatever. I don't care who you are or what your circumstances are, share the damn trail. Politeness doesn't hurt. And if you keep getting in my way and obstructing the trail and almost crashing into me and other runners I'm going to lose my sparkling good nature. No, I didn't say anything to them (what would be the point if they couldn't hear it) and I didn't even give them dirty looks. I just quietly fumed and wished they would move along.
When we crossed the bridge for the final 3 miles things got better and worse. Since we were running in the street there was more room and we didn't have to weave around anyone. The bike riders went somewhere else. But the wind picked way up. It was, no joke, about a 20 mph headwind. Direct headwind. Smack in our faces pushing us backward. Although I knew it was coming I wasn't physically able to handle it well. My 4:1 became a whenever:whenever. I ran from crosswalk to crosswalk, walking whenever I had to (which was frequently). I was actually a little faster than I had been on the trail, probably because I could go in a straight line, but it felt as if crawling would have been quicker. I had my buff pulled over my nose and mouth so that the wind wasn't directly on my face; I'm sure I looked remarkably strange but at that point I didn't care because it helped me to breathe.
We finally reached the park with the last 1/2 or 3/4 mile and changed direction enough that the wind was no longer as bad. It was farther to go than I wanted since by my Mr. Garmin's reconning the first 3 miles were just over 3.1 miles (I never saw a 1 or 2 mile marker). Most of the other mile markers were very apparent and were a mile apart. I cut tangents whenever I could so that didn't make up the difference.
There was a chip mat a bit before the final finish mat so the announcer was calling names of finishers. I put on a burst of speed with my little remaining energy and crossed in 2:54 (pitiful, even for 13.25 miles). There I came upon the one thing I would have changed about the race: the chip removers were literally right at the finish. You had to come to a dead stop immediately and I'm sure I wasn't the only person to get dizzy and nauseous from the sudden halt.
I got my medal, this year more of a traditional medal than last year, and looked around for my chocolate. I had been told at packet pickup that this year they wouldn't run out of chocolate because they had two vendors, but I didn't see any.
shown for scale (the bittersweet wrapper is empty)(certainly not shown for clarity, stupid camera)
I was just starting to get my dander up when I saw the booth with not only chocolate, but champagne glasses to hold them. Cool! There were 3 piece in the glass, 1 from Hershey, 1 from Ghiradelli and 1 from -- uh -- some fancy other place (sorry! I threw away the wrapper without writing down the name! but it was good!). I ate the fancy stuff immediately (but kept the wrapper to take a picture and remind me of the name - whoops) and walked on.
as presentedThere were lots of choices for food and beverage. There were bottles and glasses of cold something-ade (I don't drink the stuff so I didn't notice which it was). There was a table with fruit, cut up bagels with peanut butter and stuff to put on them if you wanted, Strawberry Bliss Attune Bars, bags of Popumz in chocolate cookie dough and probably more that I didn't even notice.
back of the glassPopchips had a table where they were handing out samples and small bags of their original and one other flavor chips. Bear Naked had a large booth where they were handing out the small bags of their Fruit & Nut flavor granola and they had samples of each of the different flavors covered with fresh yogurt and blueberries. Continuing along the line was the shirt pickup for people who hadn't received them earlier and they were handing out extra goody bags to anyone who needed a bag (this contained the same things as the bag I had gotten on Wednesday with the addition of a sample tube of Aquaphor).
Sweat bag pickup was a breeze, possibly because most of them were gone. But the people there were helpful and seemed efficient and I'd be surprised if anyone had troubles. I don't think it took more than a minute to get my stuff.
Then it was time for champagne (this year it was Barefoot - my favorite cheapass wine). There was what looked like a table with just beer and next to it the champagne table. The champers table had a very very long line. But then I saw that at the end of the beer table a man was pouring champagne into plastic glasses and there was nobody, but nobody, in line. As I walked up a couple of other women did too. The first woman had him pour the champagne in her new glass. The second picked up the pre-poured plastic glass which contained about 2 ounces and asked if he'd fill it up. Yep he did, so I did the same thing (except I told him not to fill all the way since I was driving).
Although there were lots of groups of people sitting around on the grass, there were many tables and chairs set up so I found an empty table near the finish line and plopped myself down to start consuming food and drink. Once I had cooled off it was chilly so I dug out my sweatshirt while I ate the Bear Naked/yogurt/blueberries and drank the champagne. I watched the finishers coming across the line, by this time mostly either walkers or women like me who just pooped out along the route. Everyone looked incredibly happy to finish. I was surprised so many were still out there.
I hung out for a while and then decided I'd better get on with my day. The champagne had given the day a rosie glow and I'm surprised I still felt as crappy as I did. My legs were tired and my lungs hurt when I inhaled. No worse than for a regular long training run, but I had hoped the booze would be more anesthetizing. Don't get me wrong, I was certainly still sober. Just happy.
In retrospect, I'm very impressed with the race this year. I'm not sure if I feel we got complete bang for the buck but that's because it was ridiculously expensive ($91.99 at the end of April (including Active.com fee), plus $5 parking) for a local low key race. But with that, we got a decent shirt, a goody bag, a couple of free samples, abundant finish line food, sufficient porta potties throughout, enough water stops with helpful staff passing out water/ade/gu, good street control (except for the trail which certainly wasn't the organizers' faults), a varied route (for Alameda), a nice medal and a very strong feeling of sisterhood. That last item is almost priceless, even for someone like me who ran alone (but Bree, Anita, Sandy, Mary Ann, Pam: I missed you!).
Now if next year they could just get rid of the wind!
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Coo
I've been going on lately about my yard; rhapsodizing about the beautiful flowers, the lovely citrus trees, the aromatic jasmine growing outside my door. Apparently I needed to look closer.
No, closer than that.
Can't see it yet? How about this?
Right. Dirty filthy pigeon has not only built a nest at the top of my jasmine, judging from that close-up there's a baby in there too. Or maybe I'm just imagining that lower eyeball and beak. If so, then there will be a baby or two within a few days. Mama is sitting still as a statue, giving me the stinkeye whenever I try to walk outside.
So you say it's could be a dove, right? According to all the sources out there it's the same thing. To quote the easiest source, Wikipedia (because it's most concise there, not because I believe it more than the other places I looked), "in general parlance the terms "dove" and "pigeon" are used somewhat interchangeably. In ornithological practice, there is a tendency for "dove" to be used for smaller species and "pigeon" for larger ones, but this is in no way consistently applied, and historically the common names for these birds involve a great deal of variation between the term "dove" and "pigeon.""
Oh well, I guess it's better than turkey vultures taking up residence in my yard.
No, closer than that.
Can't see it yet? How about this?
Right. Dirty filthy pigeon has not only built a nest at the top of my jasmine, judging from that close-up there's a baby in there too. Or maybe I'm just imagining that lower eyeball and beak. If so, then there will be a baby or two within a few days. Mama is sitting still as a statue, giving me the stinkeye whenever I try to walk outside.
So you say it's could be a dove, right? According to all the sources out there it's the same thing. To quote the easiest source, Wikipedia (because it's most concise there, not because I believe it more than the other places I looked), "in general parlance the terms "dove" and "pigeon" are used somewhat interchangeably. In ornithological practice, there is a tendency for "dove" to be used for smaller species and "pigeon" for larger ones, but this is in no way consistently applied, and historically the common names for these birds involve a great deal of variation between the term "dove" and "pigeon.""
Oh well, I guess it's better than turkey vultures taking up residence in my yard.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Take time to smell the flowers
Spring is my favorite time of year. Although the East Bay doesn't have traditional seasons there are still plants that flower now and at no other time. The almost overwhelming scent of jasmine wafting throughout my house; the delicate smell of peonies on the other side of the yard. Deep greens, crisp whites, pink, red, purple and all shades in-between.
As I sit in my favorite knitting/reading/tv watching spot I only have to turn my head to the right to see this glorious sight:
A few feet across the yard I get close-up views like this:
Only one problem with spring: a-a-a-CHOO!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Once again a runner
One good thing about taking all that time off of running was that I had pretty feet for the first time in 9 years. All I have to do now to convince myself that I'm a runner is look at those no longer pretty feet. I have one black toenail that I'm sure I'll lose soon, callouses on the ends of a few toes and 4 blisters.
I'm back!
I'm back!
Monday, May 25, 2009
Keep the sharp instruments away
While gardening today I had another example of why I shouldn't. Somehow I'm managing to slice or impale some body part almost every time I'm in the yard. Today I was trimming back some branches from my beautiful backyard maple tree (too much shade on my struggling lime tree). I guess I didn't see that my hand was in the way of the pruning sheers so I made an incision in my palm. Sheesh. I have to admit, though, that the red dripping on the green leaves was very pretty.
My wall of jasmine smells so astoundingly wonderful that I wish I had the capability of smelloblogging. Maybe we could convince Blogger to come up with an app for that?
On Saturday I ran 10 miles with Anita on the Lafayette-Moraga Trail. It was the best run this year, possibly the best run in over a year. It just felt right. We did a 9:1 run:walk for almost the entire run excepting the time I was choking on a gel and the time I had a crying jag (don't ask). It was cold and windy, probably low-50's when we started and maybe mid-50's when we finished. We had an unusual but welcome tail wind for the last 5 miles and that helped. We started slower but our overall average was 12:30 and the entire run I felt comfortable. I think keeping our mileage at the 10-ish range will help our endurance and rebuild my confidence in my running. I'm looking forward to See Jane Run Half Marathon next weekend.
Since I've registered for the Mermaid Duathlon (which is in 2 weeks) I felt it would be a very good idea if I did a brick training. I haven't done that since the tri last year and I've forgotten how to transition. Not the change-clothes part, the use-different-muscles part. The du is 1.5 run, 10 bike, 2.5 run. I wanted to do something similar but save the full distance for the race.
Sunday morning I left my house and ran out a half mile, turned around and ran back home again. I scurried to change shoes/helmet/gloves/jacket and popped onto my bike. I dithered for a moment as to which direction I should go and decided that heading south was good. I went down to Dublin, up and around a neighborhood and then back north again. Part of my brain was telling me to take it easy since it was training; the other part of my brain was telling me to push it to see what I could do. It was cold and windy again, a swirly wind that would smack me alternately in the face and crosswise.
When I arrived back at my garage I had ridden 9.5. I did another quick shoe/hat change, headed back out and Holy Sneakers Batman! I had completely forgotten that wobbly-legged feeling of running after cycling. My legs weren't exactly fatigued, but they weren't working right either. After about a quarter mile I felt like I was back in the game and I pushed on. I had that same half/half brain talk going on, with the additional voice saying I was only going 2 miles total during that leg so I could push it.
My workout ended about 1:25 after I began with 1m run, 9.5m bike, 2m run. The first pre-ride mile was 11:22, much faster than it should have been. The first post-ride mile was 11:16 and what the hell is up with that? My last run mile was 11:37, still faster (much faster) than normal. My cycling average was about 13, mostly due to the wind.
I'm feeling more secure about the real race now. The run is on dirt so I know I'll have problems (and slowing) there and the crappy revised bike route is 3 tight loops where I know I'll have to slow way down to make all the turns. Despite that, I know I can do it and do it without beating myself up too badly. I also know I'm probably going to be racing it harder than I had originally anticipated.
If you'll excuse me now, I think I'll go play with one of these:
My wall of jasmine smells so astoundingly wonderful that I wish I had the capability of smelloblogging. Maybe we could convince Blogger to come up with an app for that?
On Saturday I ran 10 miles with Anita on the Lafayette-Moraga Trail. It was the best run this year, possibly the best run in over a year. It just felt right. We did a 9:1 run:walk for almost the entire run excepting the time I was choking on a gel and the time I had a crying jag (don't ask). It was cold and windy, probably low-50's when we started and maybe mid-50's when we finished. We had an unusual but welcome tail wind for the last 5 miles and that helped. We started slower but our overall average was 12:30 and the entire run I felt comfortable. I think keeping our mileage at the 10-ish range will help our endurance and rebuild my confidence in my running. I'm looking forward to See Jane Run Half Marathon next weekend.
Since I've registered for the Mermaid Duathlon (which is in 2 weeks) I felt it would be a very good idea if I did a brick training. I haven't done that since the tri last year and I've forgotten how to transition. Not the change-clothes part, the use-different-muscles part. The du is 1.5 run, 10 bike, 2.5 run. I wanted to do something similar but save the full distance for the race.
Sunday morning I left my house and ran out a half mile, turned around and ran back home again. I scurried to change shoes/helmet/gloves/jacket and popped onto my bike. I dithered for a moment as to which direction I should go and decided that heading south was good. I went down to Dublin, up and around a neighborhood and then back north again. Part of my brain was telling me to take it easy since it was training; the other part of my brain was telling me to push it to see what I could do. It was cold and windy again, a swirly wind that would smack me alternately in the face and crosswise.
When I arrived back at my garage I had ridden 9.5. I did another quick shoe/hat change, headed back out and Holy Sneakers Batman! I had completely forgotten that wobbly-legged feeling of running after cycling. My legs weren't exactly fatigued, but they weren't working right either. After about a quarter mile I felt like I was back in the game and I pushed on. I had that same half/half brain talk going on, with the additional voice saying I was only going 2 miles total during that leg so I could push it.
My workout ended about 1:25 after I began with 1m run, 9.5m bike, 2m run. The first pre-ride mile was 11:22, much faster than it should have been. The first post-ride mile was 11:16 and what the hell is up with that? My last run mile was 11:37, still faster (much faster) than normal. My cycling average was about 13, mostly due to the wind.
I'm feeling more secure about the real race now. The run is on dirt so I know I'll have problems (and slowing) there and the crappy revised bike route is 3 tight loops where I know I'll have to slow way down to make all the turns. Despite that, I know I can do it and do it without beating myself up too badly. I also know I'm probably going to be racing it harder than I had originally anticipated.
If you'll excuse me now, I think I'll go play with one of these:
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
My inner two year old
The little brat was at it again yesterday. This little toddler inside of me wants to sit around and play, eat fattening sugary foods and never exercise. Her favorite thing is to thwart my good intentions and see how much she can get away with. "No" and "I don't wanna" are frequently heard ringing in my head.
The plan was to change at work and run on my way home. Whiny girl didn't want to, but I changed and was ready to go when I realized I hadn't brought a bottle carrier with me. Oh, I had the bottle all right but I hate gripping anything in my hand when I run. I thought about doing the run anyway without water but since it was in the upper 70's the brat told me "NO!" and I listened. I changed the plan to instead go home and go straight to the treadmill, no stopping for anything except a bottle of water.
I walked in my door and the two year old convinced me to take a nap. Just a short nap, she cajoled, knowing that the nap would probably extend long enough that it would be too late to run. I set the alarm to get me up and sure enough, when it went off the baby tried to keep me on the couch. This time though, ancient me convinced the kid that I only had to run for 20 minutes. That's all, then I could sit and do whatever I wanted.
Right, like I was going to get a set of clothes sweaty for just 20 minutes. I got on the treadmill and started out running a nice 12 minute pace, then slowed it down a smidge because I had forgotten to use my inhaler first (I didn't want to stop to go get it). I ran along, watching an episode of L&O-SVU that I had dvr'd, and felt pretty good.
Except for the fact that Comcast's dvr is crap (... this would be the dvr for which I'm paying an extra $7/month). Every time I would try to fast forward through a commercial it would jump to the very end of the program. I'd rewind and it would go back to the start. Then I'd put it on the slowest ff and it would make it to jussssst before the part I had seen, and it would skip to the end again. Very frustrating and it never happened with my old set-up before my Comcast "digital enhancement" forced the use of a dvr in place of a vcr. Grrrr. But I continued running.
With all the rewinding and fast forwarding I ended up spending much more time on the 'mill than I had intended. I actually ran 4 miles with only one one-minute walk break right in the middle (while I was fiddling with the remote). I even sprinted the last bit, going several minutes/mile faster than I had run. I felt wonderful and relaxed and drippy when I finished (except for the frustration of dealing with the dvr) and was glad I had told that two year old to go suck it.
I ate a tasty Boca Burger based dinner and felt even more virtuous when I sat down and started knitting. But the toddler had the last word. The ice cream was really good!
The plan was to change at work and run on my way home. Whiny girl didn't want to, but I changed and was ready to go when I realized I hadn't brought a bottle carrier with me. Oh, I had the bottle all right but I hate gripping anything in my hand when I run. I thought about doing the run anyway without water but since it was in the upper 70's the brat told me "NO!" and I listened. I changed the plan to instead go home and go straight to the treadmill, no stopping for anything except a bottle of water.
I walked in my door and the two year old convinced me to take a nap. Just a short nap, she cajoled, knowing that the nap would probably extend long enough that it would be too late to run. I set the alarm to get me up and sure enough, when it went off the baby tried to keep me on the couch. This time though, ancient me convinced the kid that I only had to run for 20 minutes. That's all, then I could sit and do whatever I wanted.
Right, like I was going to get a set of clothes sweaty for just 20 minutes. I got on the treadmill and started out running a nice 12 minute pace, then slowed it down a smidge because I had forgotten to use my inhaler first (I didn't want to stop to go get it). I ran along, watching an episode of L&O-SVU that I had dvr'd, and felt pretty good.
Except for the fact that Comcast's dvr is crap (... this would be the dvr for which I'm paying an extra $7/month). Every time I would try to fast forward through a commercial it would jump to the very end of the program. I'd rewind and it would go back to the start. Then I'd put it on the slowest ff and it would make it to jussssst before the part I had seen, and it would skip to the end again. Very frustrating and it never happened with my old set-up before my Comcast "digital enhancement" forced the use of a dvr in place of a vcr. Grrrr. But I continued running.
With all the rewinding and fast forwarding I ended up spending much more time on the 'mill than I had intended. I actually ran 4 miles with only one one-minute walk break right in the middle (while I was fiddling with the remote). I even sprinted the last bit, going several minutes/mile faster than I had run. I felt wonderful and relaxed and drippy when I finished (except for the frustration of dealing with the dvr) and was glad I had told that two year old to go suck it.
I ate a tasty Boca Burger based dinner and felt even more virtuous when I sat down and started knitting. But the toddler had the last word. The ice cream was really good!
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Smells like summer
Something about flowers in bloom and 98 degrees means summer to me. A wall of fragrant jasmine, giant peonies, sweet lemon flowers among the thorns. Smoggy blue skies tinged with brown around the edges. Time to run!So run we did. On Saturday Bree, Anita and I were joined by Ellen at the Alameda Ferry parking lot. We were hoping it would be cool along the water and we were completely disappointed. Usually there's a cool strong breeze making up for the total lack of shade along the route but it was only a measly fluff of wind here and there. It was hot, the hottest weather we'd run in this year. So to gradually acclimate ourselves to to the heat we decided on a short run.
Or, that would have been the smart thing to do. In
Soon after we began our group split up since Ellen is speedier than we are, and Bree was running a 4:1 while Anita and I were running a 9:1. We all met up at Crown Beach, halfway along, and ran together again for a short while. Once again Ellen pulled ahead, but we stayed with Bree for a couple of miles. At that point it because a chore to get done with, an obligation, instead of just a fun run. It was hot, I was sweaty and verging on overheating.
But finish it we did! It was ugly, it was slow, and there was way more walking than made me happy but it was still 11 miles. I was literally wringing, dripping wet. Sausage fingers and a slight dehydration headache reminded me that I wasn't ingesting enough electrolytes with too little water. That would be why they're called practice runs, right?
I don't understand why it's so hard, why it isn't getting any easier. Granted, we're increasing mileage constantly. Also granted, it was our first hot long run of the year. Finally granted that the air quality wasn't too good. However and what the hell? I haven't had a good run in double digits since early last year. I'm happy that my knee and back are ok for now but I have no endurance or stamina. Even the short easy runs feel hard. That has to change.
Oh! Those little black bits on the lovely flowers? Ants. Lots of ants. Zillions of ants. I won't be picking the flowers and bringing them into the house no matter how lovely or fragrant. Ew.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Bike to Work Day
It's easy to ride your bike to work when you live less than 12 miles from your office. C'mon, I just rode a century! Twelve miles is nothing, right? So for the Bay Area's 15th Annual Bike to Work Day I decided I should give it a shot. I've lived in this house for almost 11 years, my office has been where it is for longer than that and I've been riding a bike for even longer. I've always had some lame excuse to not ride and this year it was time. The idea behind Bike to Work Day is that possibly people will find how convenient it is and make riding to work a habit.Jeanette decided she'd come ride with me, since riding from her house would have been quite a trek. Yeah, it sort of defeated the purpose of the day for her to drive to my house but at least we saved my gas, right? Anyway, it made it more likely that I'd actually get on the bike if I had company.
The day didn't start too auspiciously. In a big "whoops" moment, while I was pumping up my front tire the valve tip broke off. Right off, into my hand. Uh oh. It appeared that the little retractable stem was pushed into the valve stem and as far as I could tell there was no air leakage. But it was highly risky to decide not to change the tube right then and there. I decided to be lazy and see how it went. For once I got very lucky and my tire was just as hard when I got home as when I left.
It was cool and clear and beautiful when we set out. We were able to go straight down one main street for almost the entire way. We rode quickly and smoothly and got to the office in well under an hour. We even stopped at one of the Energizer Stations and picked up a cool commuter bag with the above logo, an energy bar and a banana. Pretty nice, for a measly 12 mile ride.
I had left a change of clothes and some toiletries/cosmetics in the office the day before so I was able to freshen up and put on clean clothes. But the lack of a shower after the ride left me feeling vaguely unclean. Although when I'm running or riding I don't care how I smell or how gritty and salty and dirty my skin gets, when I'm done I want to be crispy clean. I just have this thing, I don't like feeling dirty. Only a shower will make me feel clean and there isn't one at the office. That was the biggest down side of riding to work.
The other thing is, even though it's easy to ride TO work, riding home is another question. Even though the route is short I'd much prefer to ride 25 miles at once than ride half in the morning and half in the late afternoon. I was surprised at how fatigued I felt riding home. Although part of that was the wicked head wind (and what was up with that? All week there had been a NNW wind that would have blown us straight home, but today it was more SW and in our faces) the rest was plain old fashioned weariness.
The good news is it will get easier. Yes, I intend to do it again (even though I spent the day feeling schmootzy). And Jeanette said she'll join me again. Since there really is a short window of having enough light both in the morning and the evening, we'll start right in. At the moment our goal is to do it about every other week. Looks like having this special day worked!
Monday, May 11, 2009
My new "diet"
What was only a sporadic thing, then a slight trend, has now become my almost daily way of eating. I have named it the "what the hell were you thinking????" diet. To date this diet has not caused weight gain or loss but it isn't healthy or approved by any official sources so I don't suggest you attempt to follow it. Some examples of the "what the hell were you thinking????" diet are:
The good news is that I haven't gained any weight (... yet). The bad news is I'm certainly doing myself no favors eating like this and I'm certainly not fueling my body for the athletic performance I expect. Much of the food I've been eating I like, I like a lot, but it's crap even in small portions. With the recurring stomach problems I've had since last year I've had to limit many foods, including most fruits and some acidic veggies (and, sadly, high alcohol consumption). This means that even good-for-you foods aren't good for me in most cases. So why am I still eating this way?
What the hell was I thinking?
Eat a normal healthy breakfast. Eat a salad with many mixed fresh veggies and some fish or fowl for protein. For dinner eat a bag of cheese popcorn. As a late night snack eat 2 cups of jelly bellies. Look at self in mirror and say "what the hell were you thinking????" and then go to bed.It's not like I haven't been obsessed with the food I eat since high school (and not like that wasn't over 35 years ago). It's not like I haven't spent years on Weight Watchers or other diets and years measuring out correct portion sizes. It's not like I couldn't tell you the calories or fat content of every single thing I put in my mouth. And it's not like I'm happy with the way my clothes fit or the way I look or feel.
At lunch eat tomato soup. Half hour later wrap arms around middle of body and say "what the hell were you thinking????"
Eat a regular, healthy lunch and dinner. Afterward sit down with a carton of ice cream and consume most of it. All together now, "what the hell were you thinking????"
Eat a large bunch of cherries, or strawberries, or some pineapple or an orange. "What the hell were you thinking???"
Run several miles after work. For dinner eat only a bag of Baked Ruffles with a glass of wine. "What the hell were you thinking????"
The good news is that I haven't gained any weight (... yet). The bad news is I'm certainly doing myself no favors eating like this and I'm certainly not fueling my body for the athletic performance I expect. Much of the food I've been eating I like, I like a lot, but it's crap even in small portions. With the recurring stomach problems I've had since last year I've had to limit many foods, including most fruits and some acidic veggies (and, sadly, high alcohol consumption). This means that even good-for-you foods aren't good for me in most cases. So why am I still eating this way?
What the hell was I thinking?
Thursday, May 7, 2009
It's a beautiful morning
The sky is blue, the air is clear, the wind is light, the temperature comfortable. Flowers, trees and shrubs are in bloom and the grass is green again. It's a gorgeous East Bay morning and the reason I live here. A day like this tickles my fancy and warms my heart. It makes me think anything is possible. I feel upbeat and positive and happy and perky.
I dream of long bike rides, quiet runs and brisk walks. I think of birds chirping and bugs chittering and the feel of air moving along my face.
Too bad I'll be spending my day sitting inside at a desk.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
You never forget your first
Leading up to it there's the anticipation, the excitement, the nervousness and the little bit of fear. You have a feeling you'll never be the same again. During, there's sweat and pain and focus and laughter and joy. Afterward there's elation, exhaustion, satisfaction and the wonder if maybe you couldn't have been just a bit better. Then you can't stop talking about it for days and wonder when you can next try to recreate that experience.
We're on the same page here, right? Your first marathon?
Eight years ago I was training for my first marathon. I knew I would complete it, the only questions were in what condition I'd be after crossing the finish line and how long it would take to get there. I was reminded of the whole experience while watching The Biggest Loser last night (oh hush - you watch crappy reality tv too, don't tell me you don't!). The remaining 4 contestants were told less than 30 days in advance that their final challenge would be to run a marathon. Four weeks, to train to run 26.2 miles.
In a way I was a bit miffed that this would be thrown at them. After all, a marathon is a serious undertaking requiring months of training. You can't complete a marathon on a whim, there has to be preparation. Then I realized that these people have been rigorously exercising for 6-8 hours daily for the past several months and aerobically, at least, shouldn't have a problem. Although they probably didn't have the time to build their mileage in a traditional manner, they at least had time to direct their focus toward running (or at least toward distance for the 2 who weren't able to run).
I watched the two women running along, listened to their comments and was reminded of my first time. Despite watching with a massive headache I wanted nothing more than to immediately get out there and run a marathon. Run several marathons. Right now, this weekend. Unbelievable how much I miss it.
I saw the women run across the finish line and knew exactly how they felt. For someone who isn't a traditional athlete the sense of accomplishment, the feeling that now anything is possible, is overwhelming. There was the knowledge that you did the best your could, that you left nothing on the table, that you pushed until you couldn't push any longer. A validation of you as a person. The joy of setting a seemingly impossible task and completing it. The memory of where you started physically. The pain and exhaustion and nerves and knowing that you must, absolutely must, do it again.
I don't know if I can wait for Chicago to do it again.
We're on the same page here, right? Your first marathon?
Eight years ago I was training for my first marathon. I knew I would complete it, the only questions were in what condition I'd be after crossing the finish line and how long it would take to get there. I was reminded of the whole experience while watching The Biggest Loser last night (oh hush - you watch crappy reality tv too, don't tell me you don't!). The remaining 4 contestants were told less than 30 days in advance that their final challenge would be to run a marathon. Four weeks, to train to run 26.2 miles.
In a way I was a bit miffed that this would be thrown at them. After all, a marathon is a serious undertaking requiring months of training. You can't complete a marathon on a whim, there has to be preparation. Then I realized that these people have been rigorously exercising for 6-8 hours daily for the past several months and aerobically, at least, shouldn't have a problem. Although they probably didn't have the time to build their mileage in a traditional manner, they at least had time to direct their focus toward running (or at least toward distance for the 2 who weren't able to run).
I watched the two women running along, listened to their comments and was reminded of my first time. Despite watching with a massive headache I wanted nothing more than to immediately get out there and run a marathon. Run several marathons. Right now, this weekend. Unbelievable how much I miss it.
I saw the women run across the finish line and knew exactly how they felt. For someone who isn't a traditional athlete the sense of accomplishment, the feeling that now anything is possible, is overwhelming. There was the knowledge that you did the best your could, that you left nothing on the table, that you pushed until you couldn't push any longer. A validation of you as a person. The joy of setting a seemingly impossible task and completing it. The memory of where you started physically. The pain and exhaustion and nerves and knowing that you must, absolutely must, do it again.
I don't know if I can wait for Chicago to do it again.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Dodging raindrops
This will be short because, frankly, my life is boring these days. To be perfectly honest (and when am I anything else) my life is usually boring. It's just these days it's so much of the same ol', same ol, that it even puts me to sleep when I think of it. "Sleep" being an expression, as we all know I don't sleep.
I've been mostly keeping up with my imaginary fitness schedule. As expected, registering for a couple of races in the near future has me terrified that I'm out of shape. I ran 3 times last week, including a long run of 8 miles on Saturday. Anita and I ran 7 pretty decent, albeit slow, miles. The weather was cool and cloudy, perfect for running. At just about the time my energy (and breath) deserted me, the rain started. It drizzled for the last mile, getting progressively heavier and by the time we reached our cars it had started to pour. Our timing was almost perfect, if we had started any later we would have been soaked.
I ran twice during the week; once on the trail and once on the treadmill. The TM was because I started so late. It was after 7:15 pm and I didn't feel safe going to run alone but I needed to blow off some energy. As usual I felt much better after I had finished. I really should make a habit of this.
I've been mostly keeping up with my imaginary fitness schedule. As expected, registering for a couple of races in the near future has me terrified that I'm out of shape. I ran 3 times last week, including a long run of 8 miles on Saturday. Anita and I ran 7 pretty decent, albeit slow, miles. The weather was cool and cloudy, perfect for running. At just about the time my energy (and breath) deserted me, the rain started. It drizzled for the last mile, getting progressively heavier and by the time we reached our cars it had started to pour. Our timing was almost perfect, if we had started any later we would have been soaked.
I ran twice during the week; once on the trail and once on the treadmill. The TM was because I started so late. It was after 7:15 pm and I didn't feel safe going to run alone but I needed to blow off some energy. As usual I felt much better after I had finished. I really should make a habit of this.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
What's a bigger yard pest than a gopher?
I was all worried about the mess and destruction caused by my friendly neighborhood gopher and neglected to protect my yard from a bigger hazard:
My house is on a corner next to a court. There are about a half dozen houses between my house and the end of the court so it's a nice long, straight, relatively quiet street. My side yard is mostly an open hilly lawn with a flower bed along the house and my fenced deck sticks out at the back corner of my property. Because of the hill, the last owner built these funky little railway tie/rock/stone steps for access to the deck. The top of those steps is a little wooden platform, hidden from the end of the court.
This is a favorite hideaway of those other noisy destructive pests, neighborhood children. Oh, don't get all up in my face about calling them pests. There are perfectly good, sweet, angelic children in the neighborhood too, I'm just talking here about the little vandals. Over the past 11 years there have been many young kids who would sit at the top of the stairs, "hiding" from their parents at the end of the court (in fact, a parent told me that his son calls it his "secret spot"). The street of the court and the adjacent sidewalks are a favorite playground for all the neighbor kids since there isn't much traffic there. It only becomes an issue to me when they start to tear things apart. Normally I just quietly shudder at the continuous noise while thinking that in a few years they'll grow up, be able to drive and won't bother hanging around their home.
I have an ever-bearing lemon tree on the side of the house. For most of the year there is fruit, either green, ripe or rotten. Periodically a kid will rip off a couple of them and toss them in the street. No big deal, there's lots more where that came from. Denuding half of the tree by ripping off TWENTY of them, shredding them on my stairs, throwing the bits all over (including under the deck and in the street and on neighbor's lawns), ripping up the rocks along the stairs and kicking the small stones onto the lawn? All while shrieking at the top of their lungs in a tone just barely in the range of human hearing? Too much.
I caught them in the act but I was so stunned by the destruction and mess that I only got a look at one of the culprits, I boy I've previously told not to tear up the lawn and not to throw rocks at my windows. I yelled at them to get out of there, then yelled at them to clean up the mess. They all took off running except for the one little red-headed boy who tried to stare me down. It didn't work. I was so angry I went back inside my house to cool down since, after all, they are just kids and I can't go postal on them. By the time the flames quit coming out of my ears and the steam stopped pouring from my nostrils and I felt I could look outside again, they had "cleaned up" as shown in the picture above.
I grabbed a garbage bag and did the rest of the cleaning, picking up bits and pieces of lemon and peel from all over the place since I didn't really want to leave it lying around for those other types of pests. I couldn't reach the 3 lemons that had been thrown beneath the deck and I'm sure the gopher and mice and squirrels (and hopefully not rats) will be very happy with their treats. It took about a half hour to clean up, put the rocks back, try to scoop the little stones off the lawn. I stomped back in my house feeling very grumpy.
About an hour later my doorbell rang and I answered it, hoping it was the brats come to apologize (bwahahah - and people say I'm not optimistic!). It wasn't, it was a dad from down the court. He said he saw me cleaning, and since his house had been a victim of a "little prank" he wondered if the same had happened to me. I explained what happened and he assured me that his kids had been home at the time (... probably some of those angels). He asked if I could identify who had been there and I realized I wasn't even sure how many there had been. I told him I only got a good look at the one kid and he said "redhead?" and "boy?" and nodded his head sagely when I agreed. Apparently the little redheaded boy and his equally redheaded sister were the trouble makers down that way.
The good news is they're moving in June. The bad news is ... there are always more where they came from. Maybe this time all the new kids will be angels.
This is a favorite hideaway of those other noisy destructive pests, neighborhood children. Oh, don't get all up in my face about calling them pests. There are perfectly good, sweet, angelic children in the neighborhood too, I'm just talking here about the little vandals. Over the past 11 years there have been many young kids who would sit at the top of the stairs, "hiding" from their parents at the end of the court (in fact, a parent told me that his son calls it his "secret spot"). The street of the court and the adjacent sidewalks are a favorite playground for all the neighbor kids since there isn't much traffic there. It only becomes an issue to me when they start to tear things apart. Normally I just quietly shudder at the continuous noise while thinking that in a few years they'll grow up, be able to drive and won't bother hanging around their home.
I have an ever-bearing lemon tree on the side of the house. For most of the year there is fruit, either green, ripe or rotten. Periodically a kid will rip off a couple of them and toss them in the street. No big deal, there's lots more where that came from. Denuding half of the tree by ripping off TWENTY of them, shredding them on my stairs, throwing the bits all over (including under the deck and in the street and on neighbor's lawns), ripping up the rocks along the stairs and kicking the small stones onto the lawn? All while shrieking at the top of their lungs in a tone just barely in the range of human hearing? Too much.
I caught them in the act but I was so stunned by the destruction and mess that I only got a look at one of the culprits, I boy I've previously told not to tear up the lawn and not to throw rocks at my windows. I yelled at them to get out of there, then yelled at them to clean up the mess. They all took off running except for the one little red-headed boy who tried to stare me down. It didn't work. I was so angry I went back inside my house to cool down since, after all, they are just kids and I can't go postal on them. By the time the flames quit coming out of my ears and the steam stopped pouring from my nostrils and I felt I could look outside again, they had "cleaned up" as shown in the picture above.
I grabbed a garbage bag and did the rest of the cleaning, picking up bits and pieces of lemon and peel from all over the place since I didn't really want to leave it lying around for those other types of pests. I couldn't reach the 3 lemons that had been thrown beneath the deck and I'm sure the gopher and mice and squirrels (and hopefully not rats) will be very happy with their treats. It took about a half hour to clean up, put the rocks back, try to scoop the little stones off the lawn. I stomped back in my house feeling very grumpy.
About an hour later my doorbell rang and I answered it, hoping it was the brats come to apologize (bwahahah - and people say I'm not optimistic!). It wasn't, it was a dad from down the court. He said he saw me cleaning, and since his house had been a victim of a "little prank" he wondered if the same had happened to me. I explained what happened and he assured me that his kids had been home at the time (... probably some of those angels). He asked if I could identify who had been there and I realized I wasn't even sure how many there had been. I told him I only got a good look at the one kid and he said "redhead?" and "boy?" and nodded his head sagely when I agreed. Apparently the little redheaded boy and his equally redheaded sister were the trouble makers down that way.
The good news is they're moving in June. The bad news is ... there are always more where they came from. Maybe this time all the new kids will be angels.
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