Crunchy ‘Nanas

I’ve always harbored a secret desire to be one of the screamers on a live album. And now, I believe, my wish has come true. I got my recording from Peter Gabriel at Hyde Park, and I swear to you, I hear me. For real. The one yelling “Steeeaaaaammmm!” a fraction of a second before everyone else? That’s totally me. (I’m fast, really fast! And loud, really loud!) And during the pause in Family Snapshot? Me too. I swear to you. I know my concert scream. And I hear it. You’re skeptical, I can tell. But, it’s not hard to believe. Did I mention we were standing second row? BA-BY! (The proof is on Tony Levin’s website. You can see us best in the eleventh picture down, just behind the girl playing with her camera near the yellow rain jacket on the rail.) So, I think it’s very possible I hear me. And yeah, I’ll admit it, I sound good.

Rock and roll! Ah, another one of life’s goals ticked off the list.

In other exciting news, I officially registered myself and Crunchy husband for the Paris-Versailles 2007. So we are finally in training for something, as opposed to in training for something obscure and undetermined. We’ve been warned about the hill to Versailles, but how can you pass up the opportunity to start a run under the Eiffel Tower? Freddy the French Cat’s owner nearly joined Team Crunchy ‘Nanas in this 10 mile endeavor, but dodged this year’s run right before registrations went in by conveniently remembering he has tickets to go watch his Welshmen group hug and bite each other’s ears off in Nantes. Lucky escape, if you ask me.

There was way less trash on the path than I expected on my run today from Minnis Bay to Reculver. (I kept to the path. There is no way I could collect all the trash washed up on the beach.) Most people just kind of stared at me as I ran by, but one man yelled “hey, what about all this over here?” as he rode past me on his bike. He seemed jovial and friendly, so I will give him the benefit of the doubt and take that as thanks rather than him “taking the piss”. The run felt really good, which is to be expected since it is flat and I’ve been running hills mostly and today is a beautiful day. I ran regular tempo on the way out and eco-run tempo on the way back. I’m getting slightly better at grabbing trash without breaking my running motion, but I still need to slow/stop sometimes.

And then there’s the fact that summer has decided to grace England with its presence. There are many who still do not have clean water supplies to their homes, but at least (for now) the rains seem to have eased. I hope it gives it a chance for things to dry out a bit and allows people to go back to their homes.

And in final news that may be good or may be not so good, I will know by tomorrow I think, I’ve taken a bold step and submitted some coastal photography into a local art exhibition. Please keep your fingers crossed on something making the cut. It could go either way.

I’ve decided that before I die, I will complete at least one half marathon on each continent. Each continent except Antarctica. Because that’s just too flippin’ cold. The only question left is where next: South America, Africa, Asia, or Australia?

(Crunchy husband didn’t seem as supportive of this plan as I expected him to be. Possibly because he thinks I’m avidly Googling “Mauritius, half marathon” right now. I wasn’t. Until he mentioned it.)

Treadmills bore me. Absolutely bore me zonkers. I’d much rather be outside, taking in the sun and fresh air. Or, rain and thunder as luck would have it here in rainy, flood-ridden England. And yet, in my forgiving and open-minded manner, every now and then, with a bit of trepidation, I return to the terrible beast.

My story this time is that when I signed up at the new gym for the fantastic outdoor pool, they mentioned that a personal assessment was included with my membership. I’ve never spoken with a trainer, nor set out a personal plan with someone who actually knows something about what I should be doing, so I figured this would be a good time to do it. Especially since I tend to under-utilize the resources in gyms because I feel too self-conscious and too worried I’ll hurt myself trying to use the weight resistance equipment.

I spoke with the trainer last week. I told him, I hate treadmills. Treadmills bore me. And yet, he still set me a plan that incorporates ten minutes on the sucker. Ten minutes doesn’t seem like a long time. When you’re soaking in a warm bath or getting a relaxing massage, ten minutes go by in a snap. But on a treadmill, ten minutes can last a LIFETIME, let me tell you, even with U2 pumpin’ on the ‘Pod. I set myself up on a machine situated by a window, facing the outside world, but that didn’t help. I tried thinking about how on Thursday I’m taking myself out to Minnis Bay for a run. That really didn’t help. I couldn’t watch the built-in tv because exercise time is “me” time in which I try to turn off worry and stress. The latest news brief on the recently foiled terrorist attacks is not conducive to 30 stress-free minutes.

But one thing that did keep me occupied, for maybe 45 seconds anyway, was this question. Why don’t treadmills simulate downhill courses as well as uphill tracks? You can set the gradient so that you are running a bit uphill. It must be possible to build a machine with the same gadgets in the back as in the front to lift the back end up to simulate the downhill part of a course. Not that I really care, I’d much rather run uphill than down. But, at the same time, I’m a stickler for balance and consistency. If you can run uphill, you should be able to run downhill.

And there you have it. Inconsistency: one more reason to hate the blasted treadmill.

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.

I will be the first to admit, I’ve fallen off the wagon. Gravity has laughed in the face of high hope and pulled me back down to the level of nearly lazy. I wish I could say it was a graceful swan dive from the cart of good intention. But, knowing me and my inability to leap elegantly, it probably was more like a plummet with a thud. Unless, of course, grace wraps itself in the package of an avocado, jalapeño, monterey jack cheeseburger (where do the restaurants here get jack cheese?!) and fries (that weren’t even very good but I ate them anyway), washed down with a chocolate milkshake and a mostly sedentary holiday weekend. Then, I’d have grace down.

Mission: Find another event to keep me exercising like I should
Launch: Operation Find New Event
Status: Opening Active Europe website

Today, I hit my 150th running mile of the year. According to my online running log, which nicely does all the math for me, I’ve spent 1 day, 9 minutes and 52 seconds (plus a few snoozers on the treadmill) doing this. When I think that means I’ve run the same distance as is between my parents’ house in San Jose and the Golden Gate Bridge (via I-280) 2.6 times, I get a bit tired.

It has become clear to me that spring is out in full force. (Yippeee!!!) I am wearing shorts, I am congested and I ate more kamikaze bugs on my run today than I have in the past year. (Not that eating bugs is a habit of mine.) The bees keep flying into my house through the back doors. I don’t know what they are looking for in here (the nectar’s outside, girls), but at the moment, they seem to like the lavender-colored, sweat-smelly yoga mat on the floor. (Apparently, I should have asked for a red one, if they’d been available in that color.) Perhaps they are looking for a short cut through the house to the Iris plants in the front. Too bad I’m keeping the connector doors closed. No assisted flower reproduction today. But, I am diggin’ the ‘landing pads’ and nectar guides. Plants are so smart!

Last night I made a pact. A pact sealed in Google Talk virtual blood. An agreement that can’t be broken. Or, at least not until I go in and delete the chat text evidence. Hmmm…but, I would never do that. Besides, even if I delete mine, the other bond-ee still has a copy. We share a lot, but passwords aren’t among the goods.

The basis of the pact is simple. We are, among many other things, virtual exercise buddies. Virtual because our dancing hearts and sweating limbs are separated by over 5,000 miles of ocean, mountains, desert and plains. But, it’s more of a check in and support each other agreement. Neither of us has the will, nor the desire, nor the fancy wireless equipment to keep each other company via PDAs during exercise hour. Besides the absurdness of using communications equipment while exercising (yes, I’ve seen it done, silly people), I can’t imagine trying to agree an exercise hour across California and England time zones. (Hey buddy, it’s 1:30 in the morning your time. Get on the elliptical machine with me, okay?)

I told my buddy that I would run 3 miles today. I ran 2. So only a slight change of plans. (Drum roll for excuses, please.) I woke up and it was so foggy that I opted for the safe route, the route that doesn’t have me running on any roads without sidewalks. That route happens to be my “Minster shortie”. 2 miles. So that’s what I did. If it makes up for it, I came home and did some extensive yoga poses. Like savasana, balasana and virasana. Don’t scoff. While maybe not the most physically demanding (though they are harder than they look!), trying living in my mind. And then try quieting it. (What am I going to blog about today that doesn’t have the word Ozomatli in it?….No, find your quiet….Man, dad’s doing the dishes before I had a chance to get in there…think of your mantra, tree, tree, tree….I hope traffic’s not bad tonight, must print out directions….concentrate….I wonder how close I’ll get to the front tonight….QUIET!) Now that’s a work out.

But, don’t worry there’s more to come. The dancing shoes (which happen to be old running shoes in my case because I’m classy like that) are packed and ready to hit the floor and boogie in London. I better eat lots of bananas today. It’s gonna be a wild night!

Today’s run

Distance: 2 miles
Time: 17:59
Pace: 8:59 min/mile