Got Inspiration?

What inspires you?

I get inspired by a lot of things for different reasons. Fresh produce inspires me to cook, seeing the way things grow inspires me to garden, reaching a student inspires me to go to work every day (that and the beautiful little thing we call a paycheck), beautiful artwork inspires me to decorate my house, my husband inspires me to love, my friends inspire me to be a better and stronger woman. So if I'm so easily inspired, why in the hell can't I get inspired to work out? Why?

Put a task in front of me at work and I give it 1000 percent. Challenge me to find a way to make a healthy dish taste sinful, well, you can check out my published cookbooks at the library (or buy them!). Can't figure out how to solve a problem, send it my way and I'll likely have it fixed within the day. So why? Why is working out so hard for me to conquer? Why would I rather come home and veg out with a book or a favorite TV show than go for a run or a bike or a swim? The weather is perfect. I'm getting in better shape so it's not quite as difficult as it was before. I enjoy being outside. I love being in the water. Why is it so hard? Am I just lazy? I don't think I am. I can work circles around most people. I really don't have an answer.


So as I was writing this, I was reading it over and I got annoyed at myself. So I just went and worked out. 1.75 miles on the treadmill. There's my inspiration. Stop whining and just go do it. It doesn't always have to be fun, or rewarding. It just has to get done. Just like the dishes, just like that report you don't feel like writing, just like taking the train to work. You just have to do it. I just have to do it. So, I did it. And will again tomorrow.

Side note, I signed up for a 5K on July 8 in my town during the town's summer festival. And I'm actually looking forward to doing it. How inspiring!

Back in the Saddle

So it’s been a little over a week since the Batavia Triathlon and I’ve been in full slacker mode. Not working out, not logging my food, possibly eating ice cream more than once a week. Okay more than twice a week. Ack! This is my M.O. I do one big thing like the Tri and then stop all together. I did it when I did the first Triathlon 9 years ago. I did it again after the Indy Half Marathon 7 years ago. Some people need a week to recover. I, apparently, need two years. Well, it’s not going to happen again.

I haven’t officially signed up yet, but I will be competing in the Go Girl Triathlon in Indianapolis, Indiana on August 27. There are several beautiful things about this Tri: 1. It’s all women. Not that I don’t thoroughly enjoy the eye candy that are male triathletes but there is something about a women-only sporting event that is a little more comforting. I don’t know why I think this because, honestly, women are way more judgmental than men are but it’s not so much about being judged as it is feeling that sisterly camaraderie with a group of women all going for the same goal. Plus, chicks rule. 2. It’s in Indy, which is doubly exciting because one of my dearest friends just moved there and I’ll be staying with her and her new hubby (and I think I have her talked in to doing her first Tri with me). 3. It’s shorter than my last Triathlon! Woot! The swim is a little longer, 500 meters, but the bike is 10 miles (instead of 14.7) and the run is a 5K (instead of 4.1).

The only downfall is that it’s that it’s at the end of August and it is likely to be super hot out. The day of the Batavia Triathlon was ridiculously perfect. Couldn’t have been any better. 70 degrees was the high. Sunny. No humidity. That won’t happen at the end of August, but I’ll be in even better shape by then, and hopefully won’t lose my nutrition replacement and Gatorade on the bike like last time.

Now I just need to get motivated to get back to my training regimen. I am going to reread my favorite parts of Slow, Fat Triathlete and gaze at the photos of my finish at the Batavia Tri to get the blood pumping again. I am also going to do a couple of 5Ks this summer, which should help keep me motivated to work out. Here’s hoping. I have to stop using lame excuses too like, “Well, my tailbone still hurts from the Tri” or “Wow, my quads are still really sore.” Lame, lame, lame. I don't even really know what a "quad" is. It just sounds cool. Anyway, my goal is to get at least four days of something in this week. Even if it’s a short run or bike. Something to get back on track (or the track!).

Thank you to everyone who has read and/or commented on my little blog, emailed, posted on Facebook, called, and sent me letters congratulating me on completing the Batavia Tri. Your love and support means the world to me and it really helps to keep me motivated to become the healthy athlete I’ve always dreamed of being. If any of you are reading this thinking that you can’t do something because of your weight, or age, or whatever, think again. I crossed that finish line and the hardest part about it was getting to the starting line. Okay, that, and swimming in freezing water, fighting the mental demons who wanted to make me stop, being last on the bike, etc. But that’s all conquerable stuff. You don’t have to do a Triathlon. I just happen to like that sport. But you can do something, even if it’s walking around the block. Okay, that was my Tony Robbins moment of the day. I’m not in this to motivate anyone to do anything. It’s really just about me and getting myself mentally and physically where I want to be. But if my words do help, well, that’s just icing on the cake. Mmmmm, icing.

Last But Not Least

I did it! I completed the Batavia Triathlon in 2 hours and 49 minutes and was DEAD LAST. Yep, bringing up the rear, the anchor, the caboose. That was me and I’m damn proud of it. Here’s how it happened.

I started the weekend of the Triathlon on Friday frantically searching for a race shirt. I realized that I didn’t have anything to wear over my triathlon bathing suit, which is a fancy way of saying a bathing suit that has built in shorts. I wanted something bright enough so everyone could pick me out of the crowd (as if I wouldn’t stand out enough amongst the skinnys) and would cover my butt. So I went to a different super-mega sports store (I didn’t want to patronize the one where the sales associate was mean to me about the Bodyglide, see March Blog, The Smell of Accomplishment) and found nothing but tiny little shorts and baby t-shirts that would (maybe) fit my left arm. So I went to the men’s section and found a neon yellow running shirt that was perfect. I lied to the sales clerk that it was for my husband (“He just loves yellow!” I chirped) and challenge one was down. Except that I kept spontaneously bursting in to tears every time I thought about the race. Not sure if it was from excitement or terror. Probably a little from column A and a little from column B but it was

Whew, look at the bright yellow shirt!

really inconvenient to keep unexpectedly sobbing.

Then my husband got sick. Real sick. Like, in bed coughing, stuffed up, sinus infection sick. My two girlfriends who were also doing the race were coming Saturday evening to spend the night since the race started so early and they live in the city. So my plans for my biggest supporter to take care of me and clean the house and cook us a nice carb filled dinner so I could rest and hydrate all day went right out the window. Not that he could help it, of course, but I then had my pre-race day filled with cleaning, washing towels, getting my oil changed, grocery shopping and cooking dinner, all while organizing and packing my gear for the race and trying to remember to drink water. It was actually better that I had so much to do because it was keeping my mind off of freaking out about the race but in the moment, I was stressed. And I didn’t want to be stressed. And stress makes me overeat, which I did. Spectacularly. Not a good way to go in to the last 12 hours before the race. Oh well. My girls came and we had a great dinner of corn on the cob, burgers on the grill, roasted potatoes, a beautiful tomato and cucumber salad that Meg made, chips and salsa from Liz and a cookie pizza that Meg also made. Yep, Cookie Pizza. Mmmm. We gorged, removed nail polish, took a drive of the race route, organized our stuff and had a great time.

So Sunday morning (race morning!) came and I woke up at 3:45 a.m. so I could drink a cup of coffee and give it time to kick in and help me, um…what’s the most delicate way to put this? Help me…uhhh…errrrr… poop. Yes, poop, okay? Not a lovely topic but the thought of having to go during the race was horrifying to me and I wanted to be empty so I didn’t have any issues. Also, the thought of stripping off my bathing suit and going in a port-o-potty was just too much for me to handle. I can barely go in the toilets at work. You think I’d be able to go, naked, on a port-o-john? That’s the stuff my nightmares are made of so I was determined to go before we left for the race. Success! That’s the last I’ll speak of poop (for now!). We ate a little breakfast, gathered our gear and headed to the race, which was a five minute bike ride from my house. We got there, got set up, got our bodies marked with our race numbers and ages and waited.

The swim went pretty great. Liz and I were in the last wave of swimmers so ended up starting about half an hour into the race. Meg did the duathon so she ran two miles while we swam. The water was freezing though and it was a cold morning so the shock took the breath out of me and I struggled a little. I also got hit in the face with either a foot or a hand, I wasn’t sure, and my goggles got smushed onto my face but I quickly rectified that and swam the 400 meters in 10 minutes and 18 seconds. Half the time I thought it would take! Yay! I ran to the transition area, which was in a gravelly parking lot (not so nice on the bottom of bare feet), got my shoes and socks on, my neon yellow shirt, helmet, and gloves and took off with my bike. Meg made us these great, bright yellow ducks that she personalized for us to tape to the bike rack where our bikes were so we could find them easily. It was so thoughtful and so brilliant and as I was running to my bike with no problem because I spotted my little duck I was thanking my sweet Meg.

Meg, me and Liz with our ducks.

You have to run your bike out and can only get on it once you are out of the transition area, which is smart, so that people don’t crash. I was off and one of the last people out of the transition area. As I headed out, I grabbed a Gu Chomp to eat and promptly dropped the bag of them on the road. Nice. There went my energy replacement. That’s okay, I still had a big water bottle filled with Gatorade. That would get me through. At mile one I saw my husband which gave me a nice boost of energy. At mile three I took a big swig of my Gatorade and (thought) I put it back in its holder until I heard it hit the pavement and roll away. Great. There went my hydration. And only 11.7 miles to go. Crap. I was passed by a couple of people and finally realized that I was dead last as the police car with his lights on pulled up behind me and stayed behind me for the entire rest of the bike leg. As we passed volunteers and other police officers I kept hearing, “Yep, this is the last one!” which was super motivating! Really. But I kept reminding myself to just ignore him and peddle away. It was easy to ignore him until I saw his lights reflected in street signs but, whatever. I decided that I had to laugh at it so every time we passed a volunteer or other police officer I pointed back at him with my thumb and yelled, “I’m so important that I need a personal escort.” Ah, what would I do without my best defense mechanism, humor? Better to be funny than pathetic, right? The bike was a tough, hilly 14.7 miles but I screeched into the transition area and managed a time of 1 hour and 19 minutes. Not too shabby. My legs were jelly and my arms were shaking like a detoxing heroin addict. I had another water bottle in the transition area so I tried to drink out of it but was shaking so badly that I poured it up my nose. So spluttering, and shooting water and snot out of my nose, I de-helmeted, grabbed a pair of shorts to throw on over my bathing suit and headed out for the run. If you think you can be demur or dainty at all while doing a triathlon, think again. I literally blew a snot rocket out of my nose on to the pavement. As my husband would say whenever I do something gross and guy-like, “My blushing bride.” I was disgusting. But kept going!

Here came the hardest part. As I started out on the 4.1 mile run, all of these people were done with the race and were coming back to get their bikes. They were done and I was just starting the hardest part and my mind went haywire. My inner monologue sounded something like this: “People are done. Done. Oh my God. I can’t do this. I have my phone. I can call Mike. He’ll come get me. All of these people are done? Oh my God, I’m last. Everyone is staring at me. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this.” I couldn’t stop the horrible thoughts. My legs felt like lead. Was I moving forward or just standing there? I couldn’t tell. I kept walking. I wasn’t about to try and run yet. What’s running? Am I moving? People were cheering me on, yelling, “You can do it.” I wanted to flip them off, or throw a hammer at their heads, but they were just being nice so I smiled and said thanks. One foot in front of the other. That’s what I kept saying to myself. I finally got the right words going through my head. One foot in front of the other. Then I saw them. My husband, my father-in-law, my mother-in-law and Meg, who just finished her race with a personal record. Shit. Here come the tears. “I’m struggling!” I shouted as I passed their sweet, cheering faces. Meg asked if I wanted her to come with me. “No,” I squeaked out and kept walking. And crying. Then I heard her run up to me. “I’m coming with you”, she said. Okay. She just finished this race and started the last 3 miles of it all over again with me. Thank God she did. She saved me. She got me to stop crying and hyperventilating. My shorts were driving me crazy so she carried them for me. She got an extra cup of water for me at each water stop and carried it for me. She saved me. We walked the whole thing and came around a corner that was about 150 yards from the finish line and saw Liz waiting for us. She finished strong and came back to find us. She was flying high and her happiness and endorphin buzz filled me with energy. 100 yards left. “Run it in!” Meg yelled and gave me a push.

I started running and then all I could see was a sea of people yelling and clapping for me. Me. They were chanting my name and there it was. The Finish Line. The beautiful, glorious finish line. So I ran and sobbed and ran and sobbed and crossed

Finish strong!

the finish line, falling into the arms of my dear, sweet husband, my two best friends who came out to see us race, and my mother-in-law and father-in-law and we all laughed and cried and cheered. All of these strangers were clapping me on the back, hugging me, congratulating me, bringing me water and Gatorade. Telling me I was an inspiration. It was at once one of the most touching, exciting, slightly humiliating, overwhelming and fulfilling moments of my life. I finished. I finished strong. Liz told me she saw people bailing after the bike. I didn’t bail. I finished. Last, but certainly not least.

She's Makin' a List...

I love making lists. I have work lists, home lists, grocery lists, to do lists and "making a list" on my list. I even put things on my lists that I've done already just so I can cross them off. I know, nutso! I'm also hyper organized for events, so much so that I drive everyone around me crazy. I just don't like when things go wrong and I try to avoid any mishaps as much as possible. Things inevitably go wrong and I can roll with it, but I like to be prepared for every worse possible scenario. Gee, worry much? It's a family trait, unfortunately, and worrying and planning and list-making is in my blood. Some people pass down traditions like Sunday dinners, yearly family photos, making tamales on Christmas. My family has passed on the perfect recipe for a good dose of worrying. Add one dash of teeth grinding with a cup of clenched stomach and sprinkle liberally with a pounding heart and you have one spectacular batch of stress. Don't get me wrong, we do the other family tradition stuff, especially cooking traditions and even have a family cookbook. But worrying is our forte! So, needless to say, I'm making my plans for the weekend of the Triathlon, which is in SIX DAYS! Yes, count them. SIX! Yikes. Hear that? That's my heart pounding.

Thankfully, I don't have to make my plans from scratch. I mentioned in a previous blog about the book, Slow, Fat Triathlete by Jayne Williams. The book is wonderful for anyone who wants to try a Tri - fat, skinny, in shape, out of shape. In that book, she has a chapter about getting ready for the race which includes a race plan and a...drumrollllllllll...a CHECKLIST for all the gear needed to get through it. I'm even adding things to my list like, "Open package of Gu Chomps before starting on the bike so you don't have to do it on the ride." When I say I obsessively plan for everything, I wasn't kidding. So hopefully I'll have everything I need but I guess as long as I have running shoes and my bike I can manage finishing the race.

I had a great week of training. I logged about 40 miles of riding last week and did some eye-opening brick training that made me realize the race is going to probably take longer than I thought. That's okay, though. As my dear friend Meg told me, the all about getting to the start line. Once you're there, you do your best. She and I rode the Triathlon route on Sunday and I feel so much more confident about doing it. It was hard, don't get me wrong, but knowing the route makes the stress level a lot lower. I'm very amped up about doing the race. I feel confident I'm going to finish. I'm not going to break any records (unless there's a medal for the sweatiest person to cross the finish line) but I am going to finish and, as Jayne Williams says, smile through the whole thing.

Wish me luck. Send me positive vibes. Say a prayer that I can continue to put one foot in front of the other. I'll be thinking of all of you pulling for me and feel all of the wonderful thoughts you have for me. Thanks for supporting me in my little blog and my big effort to finish this Tri.

I am doing the Go Girl Triathlon in Indianapolis in August and I'll continue to regale you with my training stories and thoughts on life, so you're not rid of me yet! And I'll post after the Batavia Tri to let you know how it goes. I can't wait to write about it after it's over and I'm sipping on an Aleve cocktail and clinking the ice, not in my glass, but on my knees. xoxo