Last Saturday was body composition day at MMF. Based on individual weight and measurements taken with a special kind of pinchers, a computer program generates a fat/muscle ratio. I had this same assessment done six months ago, and I wasn’t pleased with the results. Compared to an assessment done several years ago, not only did I weigh more than I wanted to, I’d gained 1.5 pounds of fat for every 1 pound of muscle. Since last August, I’ve tried to focus on better nutrition, curb my fondness for ice cream, and maintain a constant level of fitness activities. My scale told me I was losing some weight, but I still wasn’t sure what to expect from Saturday’s test. The results, however, were good. Three pounds of fat was gone.
Then on Monday at Masters Swim, we had to swim 25 yards freestyle without taking a breath, or at least taking as few breaths as possible. I figured, based on past experience with the same drill, and the fact that I usually breathe every other stroke, I would have to breathe 4 or 5 times. I was elated then to take only one breath, probably at the 12-15 yard mark.
Remembering an old General Electric slogan – “Progress Is Our Most important Product” – I give a shout-out to Coaches E. and D. – Thanks for all those intense cycling and swimming work-outs. The results are in the numbers.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
You Know You're Old When ...
*You hear news stories commemorating events that happened 50 years ago and recall those events "like they were yesterday."
*You celebrate "wogging" a mile in 13:54.
*You buy dress pants with elastic waistbands because they fit your shape better than the dropped-waist kind, foregoing a promise once made to not wear "old lady pants" in public.
*You celebrate "wogging" a mile in 13:54.
*You buy dress pants with elastic waistbands because they fit your shape better than the dropped-waist kind, foregoing a promise once made to not wear "old lady pants" in public.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Getting Ready
A new year, a new race season. I like to start each year filled with optimism about improving my performance and setting PRs, but this year, my expectations are lower. Plagued most of last fall by defective body parts subject to chronic minor injuries, I just want to be able to cross the finish line without really hurting myself.
My daughter and I have registered for the Monument Avenue 10K – she’s aiming for 10-minute miles; I’ll settle for 14. I’ve become a “wogger.” (I saw the term in a running magazine.) Whether it’s defined as “a walker who occasionally jogs,” or “a jogger who mostly walks,” it fits my current “running” style. Not counting the miles I logged around shopping malls and parking lots while acquiring items for the families my office sponsored, gifts for my own family and friends, and finally, after-Christmas sale bargains, it’s been several months since I did any serious running. So, I’m starting slowly, one or two miles a week, and working on maintaining a respectable pace for short segments.
Swimming is my sport of choice this year because it’s the one sport in which my skill level has not declined as much with age. In fact, I’m a better swimmer now than I was several years ago. I’ve enrolled in an adult swim clinic at UR, in addition to the Master’s swim class, which means I’m in the pool at least three times a week. I might even enter a swim meet – something I’ve never done.
I’m not sure what triathlons I’ll do this year. The Hy-Vee Olympic in Des Moines, Iowa on September 4 is tempting, especially if my daughter decides to do it, too. As preparation, I’m thinking about a triathlon in June in either Tidewater or Maryland. Both offer distances that are longer than a sprint and shorter than an olympic, plus an open water swim. I’m beginning to think I’m a triathlon short-timer, so if I don’t do an Olympic distance this year, I may never accomplish it. Many of the races have time limitations now, and because I’m not speedy, I’m not sure I can finish in the allotted time. But for now, I’m keeping an Olympic on my schedule.
My daughter and I have registered for the Monument Avenue 10K – she’s aiming for 10-minute miles; I’ll settle for 14. I’ve become a “wogger.” (I saw the term in a running magazine.) Whether it’s defined as “a walker who occasionally jogs,” or “a jogger who mostly walks,” it fits my current “running” style. Not counting the miles I logged around shopping malls and parking lots while acquiring items for the families my office sponsored, gifts for my own family and friends, and finally, after-Christmas sale bargains, it’s been several months since I did any serious running. So, I’m starting slowly, one or two miles a week, and working on maintaining a respectable pace for short segments.
Swimming is my sport of choice this year because it’s the one sport in which my skill level has not declined as much with age. In fact, I’m a better swimmer now than I was several years ago. I’ve enrolled in an adult swim clinic at UR, in addition to the Master’s swim class, which means I’m in the pool at least three times a week. I might even enter a swim meet – something I’ve never done.
I’m not sure what triathlons I’ll do this year. The Hy-Vee Olympic in Des Moines, Iowa on September 4 is tempting, especially if my daughter decides to do it, too. As preparation, I’m thinking about a triathlon in June in either Tidewater or Maryland. Both offer distances that are longer than a sprint and shorter than an olympic, plus an open water swim. I’m beginning to think I’m a triathlon short-timer, so if I don’t do an Olympic distance this year, I may never accomplish it. Many of the races have time limitations now, and because I’m not speedy, I’m not sure I can finish in the allotted time. But for now, I’m keeping an Olympic on my schedule.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
2011?
I'd planned to swim tonight, but after a trip to the store for cat food, I decided it was too cold to go anywhere but back to the cozy comforts of home. Once there, I read a personal essay about a woman who did her first Ironman at age 70. She began her IM training plan four years earlier, when she was slightly older than I am now. As heartwarming as her story was, it hasn't inspired me to attempt the same feat. My daughter and I have discussed doing the Hy-Vee Olympic in Iowa in September 2011, and if we do, it will be the acme of my triathlon life. With that goal in mind, I'm considering events on the 2011 calendar -- the Monument 10K in April and a tri in June that's longer than a typical sprint and shorter than a usual olympic. There's also a 5K in February that looks promising -- because it's in Florida, where it should be warm, and sunny, and "snowless." Maybe that's the incentive I need to get past winter-induced inertia and into a new tri season.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
A Different Kind of Marathon
When I woke up today (correction – when my cat woke me up), I thought the plan was to ride my bike or go for a run before I started cleaning house. But at 5:45 a.m. (the cat apparently forgot it was Saturday), it was still dark outside, so I decided to get started on my cleaning projects. All summer I’ve subscribed to the “a lick and a promise” method of cleaning – “lick” down the cat hair and “promise” to do better next time. However, I have company coming on Tuesday, so I knew I had to get out the big girl mop. Both of my sisters are cleaning fanatics, and one of them even likes to clean house, but, unfortunately, Mrs. Clean was not available to assist me.
Fortified by a cup of left-over coffee and some toast, I started with the guest bath. I washed the curtains, the rugs, and the floor. Then I moved on to the guest bedroom – more curtains to wash. Since my guest room is also a repository for items that belong to family and friends, but they have no place else to store, I decided I needed to do some re-arranging so my guests would have a spot for their suitcases. I moved the rocking chair to my home office, put the recliner back together so someone could actually sit in it, took some books to the garage, and put the extra pillows in my closet. By then, it was fully daylight, but I was into high cleaning mode and decided to postpone the bike ride/run until later in the day.
I ate a spoonful of peanut butter for energy and tackled the kitchen cupboards. Soon my garbage can was filled with out-dated spices, hard-as-rocks colored sugar, tubes of decorator frosting, and other sundries my sister gave me three years ago because she didn’t want to move them to her new house or throw them away and she thought I could use them. Perhaps I would have, if I still baked cakes and cookies, but that was in a past life.
The next project was my porch. I emptied pots of weeds, swept up nails and other trash the roofers left behind when they installed the new roof last week, and wiped off the furniture.
Back inside, I dusted every knick knack, scrubbed two more bathrooms, and cleaned out the litter box. With my chores about two-thirds done, I was starting to hit the wall. Opting for a lunch break, I was surprised to discover it was 2:00 p.m. Considering what else I had to do in the house, the possibility of a bike ride/run later seemed unlikely. And my body felt like it had already logged those miles, anyway.
After lunch, I finished dusting the furniture and baseboards and vacuumed. If everything wasn’t covered with cat hair, this wouldn’t have been such a hard task, but the two critters that share my house are the hairiest “domestic shorthair” cats I know. I’ve tried all sorts of ways, with varying success, to “de-hair” my house, but I think attempting to qualify for Boston might come easier for me. And even though my visitors like cats, too much cat hair is still annoying, so I persevered.
Final job – scrubbing the kitchen floor. I did it the old-fashioned way – on my knees. I’ve tried lots of mops, but the results just don’t satisfy me.
By 5:00 p.m., my house was as clean as it’s going to be, the last load of laundry was in the dryer, and I was ready for a glass of wine. Then I noticed the refrigerator handle was really grimy, so – like the final sprint to the finish line, I grabbed my scrubber and had at it. The pristine result was as good as a medal.
Fortified by a cup of left-over coffee and some toast, I started with the guest bath. I washed the curtains, the rugs, and the floor. Then I moved on to the guest bedroom – more curtains to wash. Since my guest room is also a repository for items that belong to family and friends, but they have no place else to store, I decided I needed to do some re-arranging so my guests would have a spot for their suitcases. I moved the rocking chair to my home office, put the recliner back together so someone could actually sit in it, took some books to the garage, and put the extra pillows in my closet. By then, it was fully daylight, but I was into high cleaning mode and decided to postpone the bike ride/run until later in the day.
I ate a spoonful of peanut butter for energy and tackled the kitchen cupboards. Soon my garbage can was filled with out-dated spices, hard-as-rocks colored sugar, tubes of decorator frosting, and other sundries my sister gave me three years ago because she didn’t want to move them to her new house or throw them away and she thought I could use them. Perhaps I would have, if I still baked cakes and cookies, but that was in a past life.
The next project was my porch. I emptied pots of weeds, swept up nails and other trash the roofers left behind when they installed the new roof last week, and wiped off the furniture.
Back inside, I dusted every knick knack, scrubbed two more bathrooms, and cleaned out the litter box. With my chores about two-thirds done, I was starting to hit the wall. Opting for a lunch break, I was surprised to discover it was 2:00 p.m. Considering what else I had to do in the house, the possibility of a bike ride/run later seemed unlikely. And my body felt like it had already logged those miles, anyway.
After lunch, I finished dusting the furniture and baseboards and vacuumed. If everything wasn’t covered with cat hair, this wouldn’t have been such a hard task, but the two critters that share my house are the hairiest “domestic shorthair” cats I know. I’ve tried all sorts of ways, with varying success, to “de-hair” my house, but I think attempting to qualify for Boston might come easier for me. And even though my visitors like cats, too much cat hair is still annoying, so I persevered.
Final job – scrubbing the kitchen floor. I did it the old-fashioned way – on my knees. I’ve tried lots of mops, but the results just don’t satisfy me.
By 5:00 p.m., my house was as clean as it’s going to be, the last load of laundry was in the dryer, and I was ready for a glass of wine. Then I noticed the refrigerator handle was really grimy, so – like the final sprint to the finish line, I grabbed my scrubber and had at it. The pristine result was as good as a medal.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Jamestown Memories
When my children were young, we used to camp at Jamestown Beach, next to the ferry landing, so the Patriot Sprint, which starts and ends at the old campground, is like a homecoming. As I walked along the beach shore on Saturday evening after picking up my race packet, I looked up the bluff to our favorite camping spot, now overgrown with brush. In my mind’s eye, though, my 4-year-old daughter was nimbly scooting down the hill to watch the Baptists or Methodists singing hymns on the beach – and then was escorted back to our campsite after the service by a kindly church member, who was no doubt horrified to find the sweet child’s father drinking a beer.
The next morning, as I considered the river in the rain, I would have liked to been tucked snugly in our old camper instead. The water temperature was 74°, so wet suits were allowed. Despite the buoyancy a wet suit offers, I tend to feel like I’m choking in it. Hoping to alleviate this problem, earlier this year I purchased wet suit no. 3 –in a larger size and different style. The suit felt okay on dry land, but the Patriot swim would be its “christening.” My other problem with a wet suit is that getting it off after the swim eats up my time in T1, but I don’t swim well at all in chilly water, so I opted to wear it.
Probably, though, I should have gone without the wet suit because the water did not feel cold and my neoprene-swaddled body didn’t seem tethered to my naked arms. I made more progress kicking on my back than actually swimming. I silently agreed with a fellow swimmer who said, “Well, wet suits suck.” I kept aiming for the yellow buoy where we were supposed to turn, but it seemed like the distance between it and me stayed the same. I noticed that some swimmers who had started in the groups behind me were already turning toward shore, without having passed the buoy. Then I heard someone in a boat telling swimmers to turn because the buoy had come loose. I’m not sure how much out of the way I went, but I do know I’m not a fan of open water swimming.
The distance from the beach to the transition area was a hike through a grassy field. I struggled a bit with getting my left foot out of my wet suit, but still my T1 time was 16 seconds less than the maximum possible time I’d estimated.
I rode the bike course in exactly the same time as two years ago, which was disappointing because I’d expected to be faster on my new bike. Or, maybe I should spin it this way – I’m just as fast as I was, even though I’m two years older. I think I needed my bike pal KG riding ahead of me as incentive.
The run course took us through another grassy field at the beginning and end, with a paved trail in the middle. My time was a little faster than other 5K runs I’ve done this year, but still slower than I’d hoped.
All in all, the event provided another good memory of Jamestown Beach. Because I was the only official entrant in my age group, I was awarded first place, albeit by default. Another competitor had a better time than I did, but she was registered in the novice category rather than age group. Whether I was first or second, though, the prizes were the same – a wine glass and a bottle of chardonnay from a local winery.
The next morning, as I considered the river in the rain, I would have liked to been tucked snugly in our old camper instead. The water temperature was 74°, so wet suits were allowed. Despite the buoyancy a wet suit offers, I tend to feel like I’m choking in it. Hoping to alleviate this problem, earlier this year I purchased wet suit no. 3 –in a larger size and different style. The suit felt okay on dry land, but the Patriot swim would be its “christening.” My other problem with a wet suit is that getting it off after the swim eats up my time in T1, but I don’t swim well at all in chilly water, so I opted to wear it.
Probably, though, I should have gone without the wet suit because the water did not feel cold and my neoprene-swaddled body didn’t seem tethered to my naked arms. I made more progress kicking on my back than actually swimming. I silently agreed with a fellow swimmer who said, “Well, wet suits suck.” I kept aiming for the yellow buoy where we were supposed to turn, but it seemed like the distance between it and me stayed the same. I noticed that some swimmers who had started in the groups behind me were already turning toward shore, without having passed the buoy. Then I heard someone in a boat telling swimmers to turn because the buoy had come loose. I’m not sure how much out of the way I went, but I do know I’m not a fan of open water swimming.
The distance from the beach to the transition area was a hike through a grassy field. I struggled a bit with getting my left foot out of my wet suit, but still my T1 time was 16 seconds less than the maximum possible time I’d estimated.
I rode the bike course in exactly the same time as two years ago, which was disappointing because I’d expected to be faster on my new bike. Or, maybe I should spin it this way – I’m just as fast as I was, even though I’m two years older. I think I needed my bike pal KG riding ahead of me as incentive.
The run course took us through another grassy field at the beginning and end, with a paved trail in the middle. My time was a little faster than other 5K runs I’ve done this year, but still slower than I’d hoped.
All in all, the event provided another good memory of Jamestown Beach. Because I was the only official entrant in my age group, I was awarded first place, albeit by default. Another competitor had a better time than I did, but she was registered in the novice category rather than age group. Whether I was first or second, though, the prizes were the same – a wine glass and a bottle of chardonnay from a local winery.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
A Green & Pink Weekend
Several months ago I ordered a new car – a 2011 Ford Fiesta hatchback, and I took possession last Saturday. So far, I’m generally pleased with it, although a visit to my local bike store was required to properly fit my old bike rack onto the new car. The car’s most unusual feature is its color – “metallic lime squeeze.” Yes, I have a car that looks like a lime. Because limes make me think of margaritas, and this car seemed like it should have a name, I considered calling it “Margy” or “Rita.” But then a friend referred to it as “Little Limeade,” and that may be the name that sticks. Of course, foregoing the lime theme, there’s “Dumpling,” because the car also resembles a Granny Smith apple.
The pink part of the weekend was the Pink Power Sprint on Sunday. It was also my birthday and my daughter’s present to me was that she came for the race, and did it. This is the first year she’s done triathlons, and it’s been fun to share the experience with her.
My specific goal for the race was to be faster than last year, and I was. My swim time would have been even better if I could have climbed out of the pool quicker, but I was pleased to see that a year of Master’s swimming has improved my performance.
The bike course didn’t seem as difficult as last year, and I took several minutes off my previous time, maybe because I have a different bike, I trained more, or both. Even so, I wasn’t able to catch up with my daughter, who was a few minutes ahead of me on the course. (We learned later that my actual ride time was about 20 seconds faster than hers, but she’s a better swimmer and was quicker in T1.)
C. and I had thought we might do the run together, but she started before I did and stayed about a half mile in front. My pace for the first two miles was on target, but mile 3 is the hilly part and I walked more than I should have. Even though my time was faster than last year, I was still disappointed to be slower than I’d expected. The final lap around the soccer field was great, though. C. had waited for me at the edge of the field so we could cross the finish line side by side.
The pink part of the weekend was the Pink Power Sprint on Sunday. It was also my birthday and my daughter’s present to me was that she came for the race, and did it. This is the first year she’s done triathlons, and it’s been fun to share the experience with her.
My specific goal for the race was to be faster than last year, and I was. My swim time would have been even better if I could have climbed out of the pool quicker, but I was pleased to see that a year of Master’s swimming has improved my performance.
The bike course didn’t seem as difficult as last year, and I took several minutes off my previous time, maybe because I have a different bike, I trained more, or both. Even so, I wasn’t able to catch up with my daughter, who was a few minutes ahead of me on the course. (We learned later that my actual ride time was about 20 seconds faster than hers, but she’s a better swimmer and was quicker in T1.)
C. and I had thought we might do the run together, but she started before I did and stayed about a half mile in front. My pace for the first two miles was on target, but mile 3 is the hilly part and I walked more than I should have. Even though my time was faster than last year, I was still disappointed to be slower than I’d expected. The final lap around the soccer field was great, though. C. had waited for me at the edge of the field so we could cross the finish line side by side.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)