Crunchy ‘Nanas

I was worried about yoga yesterday. But, the live-in masseuse worked his magic Tuesday night, and my muscles were less sore yesterday morning, and yoga was fine. Better than fine, in fact. It was a very fulfilling workout.

My instructor asked us what we wanted before we started and at first, we all just sat there, kind of duh, blank morning stares, where’s my tongue, how does it work? But, then someone said, “something positive” and I just thought yeah, something positive. That would be really nice.

And it was. I still find it amazing how simple movements can stimulate such emotion and release. Going into warrior I, over my usual thoughts of shoulder blades down, little toe rolled into floor, came this flood of positive energy*. In that instant, there was a bit of peace within my body. I just felt good, warm, happy. I hate to admit to being the girl who talks to herself in class (it’s possible I am already the one known to cry- I tell you, it just unlocks emotion, it’s like a good book or movie that way), but I’m fairly sure I whispered “thank you”. I just felt grateful.

Yoga is good for me that way. It helps keep me balanced in mind and spirit (though not always in body, but I think that’s getting better too).

[*It came again when I was able to go from downward-facing dog, to chaturanga, to upward-facing dog without putting my knees to the floor(!!!), but I think that was more pleasure from personal accomplishment than anything else. My arms are not my strong point. I am feeling it today, but yay me!]

My gym stole my iPod. And I’m not sad.

I’ll spare you the skimpy details, but I was in the locker room, sitting on the bench, drying my feet and noticed the music was pretty chill, Finley Quaye’s “Even After All”. Not one I usually hear anywhere but my iPod, thanks to the Thicker Than Water soundtrack. I thought hey, that’s cool. It makes a nice change from the Rockwell “Somebody’s Watching Me” I used to get at the other gym. (Kind of funky in the locker room when it’s playing while you ARE in the shower.) Then I heard it. Comb stroke, part to shoulder. Hesitate. I wasn’t sure it could be possible, they keep the level pretty soft in the changing room, but yes indeed-y. The Thievery Corporation remix of Sarah McLachlan’s “Dirty Little Secret”. Yeah baby! It’s cool, seductive and lounge-y. I love it. Maybe somebody IS watching me and knows just what I want to hear. I combed and re-combed my hair, just so I could hear the drum beat drop toward the end. I’m fairly sure I was swaying, but no one was looking at me funny, so I must have contained myself pretty well. All right, I don’t have much shame, but I don’t tend to bust a move in the locker room. Usually.

It was like the time I popped into Somerfield and as soon as I stepped through the double doors “Solsbury Hill” started up. It was as if they saw me coming. Or, iris recognition lasers triggered the music. Hey, now there’s a thought. Big brother me any time if it means no more James Blunt. (Okay, Christa, I just threw that in there to rile you up so you’ll slam me some more country music dedications on Facebook. Yee-haw!*) I grabbed my milk, bounced a little in line (subtly restraining myself from initiating a dance party), and handed over my fiver. As I held myself back from saying as enthusiastically Californian as possible “I luuuuuuhhhhve this song”, Talking Heads “Once in a Lifetime” kicked in to the Hill’s fade, and the lady shouted over her shoulder “Could you turn the music down, puh-lease?”. I checked my shimmy, picked my chin off the floor, and slunk out of the store. Don’t let the iPod hit you on the way out, ya know?

While we’re on the subject of music (yeah, yeah I swam and yoga-ed today, check the log if you’re really that interested), who’s excited? Who is EXCITED? U2-3D! I can’t hear you. Yeah okay, not quite as excited as if the boys were to play in my living room. Or, even Wembley Stadium for that matter. But, I’m pretty excited. (And not even too bitter that it’s already out in California.) I can’t wait to see my man up close and personal. Funk it up, dawg!

*For those who don’t know me, not a big fan of the country…

—————-
Now playing: U2 - Mysterious Ways
via FoxyTunes

I drove into the parking lot and there it stood before me: uncovered, lane lines in place, waters smooth as glass. Ladies and gentlemen, the outdoor pool is working again! Whee-hoo!

What’s more, the temperature’s not as warm. I hustled from the door to the water (it’s not raining, but it’s not sunny either), expecting the water temperature to welcome me in, like a soothing bath. It didn’t. Which is actually a good thing because I get too hot if the water’s too warm once I get going. It’s perfect now. The water wrapped around me peacefully as I pushed off from the wall, calmly filling in the spaces my body left behind.

It’s been a bit quiet around the Crunchy household lately, so it was nice to have some time in the water to just glide and flow. It wasn’t a hard core day today. The only thing missing was the pirate swim cap my mom gave to me for Christmas. I completely forgot to toss it in the bag. But, I’ll give it a try next time. When I need to get fired up. I realized from my lap times today that I swim breast stroke just as fast and sometimes faster than free. It’s not a surprise to me. It’s always been my favorite, but I am going to have to work on the freestyle if I actually want to get off my booty and do an Olympic distance triathlon this year. I have no excuses since I weaseled Crunchy husband out of his racing bike. Well, none except my slight trepidation at the large water masses around me. (The two shorter tris I did in the past were in placid little lakes.) But, if I’m honest with myself, I’m just using the unknown as an excuse. I’ve never been afraid of water. Sand, yes. Sand has been known to freak the living daylights out of me. But never water, not as far as I know.

I think officially somewhere it says that the August Bank Holiday is the end to summer in England. Well, thank goodness the sun came out for it! Yippee!

Friday afternoon we eco-ran down in Cliff’s End/Pegwell again. We adventured a bit with our return route and came to a dead-end at the disused hover port, but I guess it just meant more training! Yippee!

Without planning it, I did a reverse (mini) triathlon on Saturday. 3k run to calibrate my footpod (finally! When I ordered my heart monitor with footpod, I didn’t realize it would be so hard to find an average American high school with a running track to calibrate the footpod. Silly me. This is England. They don’t have tracks here. Or, if they do they are very well hidden. I needed a room of requirement!) Then a 22k ride to Ramsgate to test my new Italian.

And then I went all out for my open water swim. It was, well, more like an open water float with a paddle and kick or two while relaxing on the inner-tube. (I brought the goggles along for dramatic effect.) I’ve never inner-tubed in the ocean. It was just like Lake Tahoe, only you didn’t have to wait for motor boats to zoom by to get waves. And I don’t believe as cold. It was great. Yippee!

And then Monday we ran from Minnis Bay to Reculver. The sun was shining, but there was a bit of a breeze. Crunchy husband hit a new milestone. He’s never run 7 miles (all at once) before. He did very well. I think it was the cheer from the Ipswich Town fan riding by on his bicycle that kept him going. Or the back wind in the fifth mile. Or the ice cream stand at the finish. Three cheers for Crunchy husband. Yippee!

I am in love with an Italian. It isn’t the first time this has happened. First, there was a pair called Sidi. I took them home and never looked back. Then there was the affair with the borrowed bike called Bianchi. Everything was right about it, it felt perfect and I almost let it into my life completely, except for the issue of its one short-coming. I like to think I am not shallow. But, I was advised (by a Brit), go triple or go home. (Yes, I am a weakling.) So after my second of two tris in the summer of 2003, we parted. I am still a bit heart-broken.

But, today! Today I found a new amore. I took my new sella italia saddle on its inaugural ride. And let me tell you, that puppy knows how to support me and cushion my bony butt in all the right places. I felt a bit guilty leaving my Terry behind on the mountain bike, but I am convinced it was the right thing to do.

When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza-pie…

Nothing to look at here. Keep it moving.

Everyone has strengths and weaknesses. Some athletes can haul out the distance with endurance and grace, but would be toast in a sprint. Some can cycle centuries but keep a flotation device next to their bath tubs. Others can pitch a ball with startling accuracy, but can’t run bases to save themselves from the charging bull on their heels. And there are others, the crowd I run with, who can do some things without completely embarrassing themselves (those would be the strengths), but other things need a little coaxing and pep talking from the co-ordination fairy before we’re convinced we are okay to try them (those would be the weaknesses).

Yesterday, I was alone in the pool. No one else in the water. No one on the deck. And the thought occurred to me, “I should really practice the back stroke. The conditions are never going to be any better than this.” When I finished the set I was working on, I took a deep breath of confidence, looked around to make sure there was no one around that I would ram (or be heckled by), and went for it.

That was the slowest, sloppiest length of my life. And who-eee, did it get the heart rate up. (Though it’s debatable whether it was completely from the physical activity, or if my pulse was influenced by the anxiety, “Oh my god, I’m gonna miscount my strokes, not see the color of the lane rope change, whack my head right as people come out onto the pool deck and look like a total idiot.”)

The next lengths got a bit easier as I was able to relax into them a bit more and actually attempt to keep my chin up, my forehead back and do it properly. I’m fairly sure I zigzagged the lane atrociously, but I’m proud to say I finished two sets of 100m. (Split by 100m breast stroke as my reward.) It wasn’t pretty, but I’ll get better. It has been over ten years since I did the back stroke. I think I remember why I never competed in it.

This morning I swam in a pool that is a) outside, b) marked out with TWO separate swimming lanes- one for slow and one for fast swimmers, and c) NOT STAINLESS STEEL!

I recently fired my last gym because my membership expired and it just wasn’t doing it for me. Besides the pool issues, I realized that the gym was a little too LA glamor, a little too Globo-Gym for my liking. Plus, the sign next to the entrance says “Thanets most beautiful indoor pool,” and that just gets me every time. Even if I take a deep breath and try really, really hard not to let it get me. (It’s a hard life, having this hyper-awareness of absent and mis-used apostrophes.)

Last weekend, I discovered that another gym in nearly the same area just put in an outdoor pool. I checked it out, and was pretty enticed, despite its higher membership cost. I like the outdoor pool aspect, especially as I prefer to swim outside even if it’s cold and rainy because it can be too stuffy and steamy inside and the pool temperature is usually a bit warm for me. Plus, if it’s cold and rainy, as it was today*, most people will likely use the indoor pool. (Yes, folks two pools! Wee-hoo!)

On Wednesday the representative I spoke with over the weekend called to ask if I would like to come in for a VIP day. Why yes! If there’s anything I like more than a swim in a pool in which I can see the walls and bottom, it’s a FREE swim in a pool in which I can see the walls and bottom.

So it was a great swim today. Short, because I’ve been slacking and so didn’t want to tear it up too much on my first day back. (We can claim altitude training on the boardwalks of Yellowstone all we want, but my thighs are going to hurt tomorrow. Guaranteed!) The people in the pool were friendly. “Oh no, we don’t use that shower. We use the one inside because that one is never warm.” Thanks! Good to know.

The only issue I had today was that my water bottle kept shooting water up my nose. See how I blame the bottle? And not the user who put sparkling water into it because the Brita was empty? Apparently, carbonation and bite valves don’t mesh. Duly noted, as I sit here at home finishing the water out of the same bottle, using the same bite valve. No really, I think I’ve perfected it!

My hands smell slightly of chlorine. Oh, it is a happy day!

*Don’t worry. The thunder and lightning had stopped by the time I jumped in, so it was safe.

Readers who are not new to the blog, or to me, know the troubles I have with my feet. They are sore, sweaty, curly-toed beasts. They blister and ache, but I have vowed to accept them as they are. But still, they are narrow. So, so hard-to-find-shoes-that-fit-me-correctly long and narrow. Today, however, was a happy day. In my first (yes there was more than one) trip to REI, I had (nearly) one thing in mind: investigate insoles for my new hiking shoes because my feet are, you guessed it, So. Darn. Narrow.

I spoke with Bob. Bob at REI Mountain View. He made the simplest suggestion, but I feel as if a whole new world has opened up. His tip: Not only can I use Superfeet, but I can insert them over the insoles already inside the shoes for extra, extra bulk. Oh. My. God. Why has nobody told me this before? It’s amazing! I feel like dancing! Or singing from the rooftops sickly sweet, wide-eyed Disney tunes.

I tested this trick out up at Russian Ridge this afternoon with one of my best buddies and hiker extraordinaire. I am pretty darn pleased. We’ll see how it fares in the wilds of Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho, but I am optimistic. Seriously folks, a whole new world.

In case you were wondering what their “friendly-faced” visages actually looked like. (I don’t have a fantastic zoom, and you can’t get too close. Rightly, they are trying to keep these animals as wild as possible. But you get the picture.)