What was I doing?  Oh, just participating in the world’s largest triathlon, the Lifetime Fitness Chicago Triathlon, home to over 10,000 athletes this year.  As I racked my bike on race morning (where I would need to shoot the gap between a baby tree and two bike racks to get out later), I couldn’t help but think that this was going to be a true test of my training.  What I didn’t expect was to have such good memories on the back side.

The weather Sunday was HOTT.  I keep saying HOTT with two “T”s because I believe it accurately conveys the extra degrees involved.  By the time I hit the run, the temp was over 90, and the Heat Index was over 100.  But it’s what happened before that that really matters.

Let’s start on Friday at the Expo, shall we?  I ran into a friend there, Joyce, who has also been coming back from a foot injury – or trying.  We were talking about how hard it is to stay upbeat when you’re just trying to get better – and I laughed as I told her about the story from the weekend before, when I had flatted out on the course at Danskin, and found myself with only a tampon in my saddle bag – but no air – to inflate a new tire.  “The lesson I learned there”, I said “is that if you’re riding by someone on a course who’s standing next to their bike, the question to ask isn’t ‘Are you okay?’ as you go by..it’s “What do you need?”  We laughed, talking about it, because we’d both zoomed by people before who were in trouble, but now we had a slightly better idea how to help.   Keep that nugget in mind – I’ll come back to it.

Then it was Sunday morning, and I was up and atem.  Vowing NOT to find myself in Air Tampon land again, I packed one of my two water bottles with extra tubes, and air canisters, before the race.  The other bottle, I filled with water.  Keep that nugget in mind – I’ll come back to it.  I had a moment of unadulterated superiority when I realized that bringing my headlamp was an act of genius as there wasn’t NEARLY enough light in Transition, and then promptly tripped over myself leaving the area.  So much for that.  As you can see from the pic below of the walk down Monroe Harbor – it was kind of dark out there!

Got in and out of Transition by 5:00, and headed down to the start, where I hung out with Lisa and Joe (who awesomely brought a blanket, otherwise it would have been Goose Poop Anonymous on my butt that morning.) 

And then I was just waiting for the swim.  The nice thing about training with a big group is that it was like Old Home Week at the swim start. I ran into a bunch of friends from Chicago Endurance Sports (thanks Liz, Jayme, Caronina, Coach Mike, Alice, Alexis, Trina…well, the list goes on!)  – and the SUNRISE!!!  Let’s just say that the sunrise almost makes the 3:30 wakeup call manageable.

By 6:15, there were thousands of participants, family and friends wandering.  Really, it’s a little overwhelming if you’ve never done a race before – they don’t call it the World’s Largest Triathlon for nothing.  When you have to plan for a 30 minute window for the Porta Potties, you know it’s big.

Lisa went off first, around 7:15, and I was up next, at 8:00.  Perhaps my most shining moment of the day was when someone emerged, confused, from the Porta Potty and reported that the TP was running out.  Surrounded by 200 of my closest competitors, I ran back to the snack shack across the lot and grabbed a stack of napkins, returning to pass them down my chosen line.   As the dude behind me said “that was an MVP moment”.  Yes, yes it was.  Sorry to all you suckers in the other line!!!! 

Holding onto my cap for dear life before the swim.

The rest of the day wasn’t as MVP, but it was occasionally funny – and fun.  After being ankle-grabbed and swam over on the swim, I emerged victorious to find fellow CESer Trina pulling me up out of the Swim Exit – complete with a smack on the ass.  Now THAT’s encouragement!  Then, as I was walrusing to the Transition (which is about 1/4 mile away in Chicago from the Swim exit) I decided to stop and strip.  Um, yeah.  See, it was already HOTT and I could hear my thighs making music in the way that is usually reserved for cordoroy pants in winter.  I figured if I didn’t strip, we might have some serious issues with conjoined legs, and who needs THAT on race day?  So, I stopped, dropped, and stripped.  Two guys from Team in Training were across the path watching (with averted eyes, I’m sure), and gladly told me that it was my day, and I should do as I pleased.  When I looked up, I told them politely that I expected a little something in return for this exercise, at which point, they serenaded me with some lovely Porn Music.  Oh, come on, you do too know what I’m talking about.  Or you’ve heard about it, at least…

And then there was the bike.  Really, I TRIED to plan, but I realized at about Mile 15 of Mile 26 that I was going to be out of water since I had only ONE bottle full of fluids (and the other averting the air/tube disaster).  So at the top of Lake Shore Drive (at the Foster turnaround), I pulled over, and asked a volunteer to hand me a discarded bottle.  What?  I was out of fluids, I was thirsty, and I was willing to contract Hepatitus B to have some damn water, people!  There were 15 bottles on the ground, most dropped by people who couldn’t stand having a warm bottle of anything on their bike anymore – I was not so picky.  After one discard (pink Accelerade, I think), we found some water, poured it into my bottle, and off I went.  “Is that vodka or water?” the volunteer asked.  “Warm water!” I smiled.  “Yumm!!!”  And the sick thing is, I meant it!!

Sufficiently hydrated, I hammered out (well, that could be an exaggeration) the remaining miles of the bike incident-free.  I saw lots of folks with very expensive bikes on the side of the road, and had my own mental game of whether to stop and help, or continue on.  I asked a few “What do you need?”  But most were so suprised to be asked that they couldn’t answer, and I was past them too fast to stop.   And secretly, I could hear my friend in my head saying “some days, you have to put yourself first, and today is that day.”  I had trained for too long to add a thirty minute stop to my day, and so I put my head down and kept going, but not without a serious amount of Catholic Guilt on my back.

My friend Joyce, though, she was awesomeness personified.  Riding in the Sprint competition, she was racing on Sunday as best she could – but when she saw someone stopped, she told me later, she remembered the question.  “What do you need?” she asked.  “AIR!” the person responded.  So Joyce, as cool as she is, pulled over, stopped, and helped another racer change their tire.  She saved someone’s race day – awesome, right????

By the time I got back in for the run, it was close to 11:00 and it was HOTT.  Still.  I know, broken record.  Somewhere, Joe was pilfering water off people’s bikes in Transition (they had completed the ride, really!), as he, too realized he was going to be light on fluids.   But I was heading out for the run and realizing that my calves were tight and I was nearing lightheadedness.  Rather than hear the ugly call of “MAN DOWN” as I plummeted to the ground, I slowed to a walk – I mean, SLOOOOWED to a walk – and headed out for the 5k. 

People were SOOO cool on the side of that path.  I mean, super encouraging, even though we all must have looked terrible.  Some nice lady said to me and the guy next to me “You’re doing so well, you look GREAT!!!”  and as he ran by, he looked at me and said “I don’t know what she’s smoking, I look terrible.”  I had to agree – but hey, we were out there, and that was something.

When I turned to come back into the finish, I had been on the path for 28 minutes.  Under Doctor’s orders, I was limited to the 5k run/walk, and that’s what I did – but I still felt a little guilty coming into the finish so quickly.  I found out later, I wasn’t the only one who cut the run, but still.   When I crossed that line and grabbed that medal, I’ll admit, I was pretty happy.   

Two days later, and I’m still a little giddy.   Turns out, I’m not the only one.  I came in yesterday to find that David Wallach of the ChicagoNow blog Pace of Chicago had worked with a local videographer to capture the Chicago Triathlon on Sunday.  Overnight, the dude (Mike) put together this amazing video.  If you really want to know what Sunday felt like, I think this is it.  I may not be a pro, but this was my race, too. 

And THAT’s  a pretty good Sunday.   Official finish time: 3:37:44.  Not bad at all for a Plus Runner.

Like, for instance, an injury.  Or, clothes that don’t fit.  Or, people who say “you shouldn’t do that so soon”.  These people, my people, (if I may be so bold as to call you “my people”, since I pretty much share the same exercise DNA with y’all)…anyway, we people have hearts of gold but damn, we are T-I-R-E-D of people thinking we do nothing but eat bonbons and watch Jersey Shore.

So when we decide to get moving, we move with some purpose.  We set out a plan. We stick to that plan.  And sometimes, we forget that what took us 2, 5, or 10 years to create can’t be un-done in a day.  Or even in 60 days.  We forget that our bodies are living, breathing things, that are not exactly following the plan our hearts and minds have set out.  So the body, it protests.  It complains.  And sometimes, it breaks.

I thought of this all last week as I was offiically discharged from a few months of physical therapy as a result of a running injury years in the making.  Dr. Chin and the awesome folks at The Running Institute of Chicago (I know, you’ve heard me talk about them, but I have to give them props) and the amazing Joel Nourie at Accelerated Rehabilitation Center’s West Loop location did their best to cure me.  They gave me good PT for the Plantar Fasciitis.  They diagnosed a problematic nerve in the ankle and eventually helped it calm down with some cortisone.  And they gave me a realistic Return to Running program, which I gleefully kicked off about 4 weeks ago.

My problem (if you can call it that) is that I had my heart set on doing the Chicago Triathlon this coming weekend.  You know, the one with the mile swim, 26 mile bike, and 10k run at the end?  Yeah, that one.  Only, as I approached Dr. Chin’s office on Thursday to be “discharged”, I knew that I hadn’t done enough distance to be able to say – without fear of re-injury- that I could do the whole 10k – without injury.  I was only up to about 3 miles of run/walking – and the jump to 6, which woudln’t have bothered me two years ago – was just too big now.

Not surprisingly, he agreed.  He, and Joel, and pretty much anyone who’s watched me rehab would probably have had the same answer.  Why risk it?  Why risk the run, increasing by almost 100% the amount you’re running in one day – only to get injured and delay for another 6 months something you’ve worked so hard to fix? 

And here’s where 10 years of running and racing kicked in:  I agree with them.  Why WOULD I risk it?  Why would I risk NEVER running again to run this week?  Why would I risk having that level of pain again when, with some patience and a little bit more work, I could run next month?  There’s just no reason.  But I know I’m not alone in weighing the decision carefully – in saying “hey, I’ve trained all summer for this race – and if I drop it, what have I spent all that time on?  What do I have to show for it?”  I know right now, in doctor’s offices and PT facilities all across Chicago (and heck, across the country), there are many people who, new to running or new to activity, are feeling the effects of too much, too soon – or too much, too often – and are being met with angry diagnoses of stress fractures, plantar fasciitis, and a variety of other things that are killing their fall race calendar.

So what do you do, if you’re one of those people?  Do you risk it?  Do you find some way – ANY way, to keep going?  And if you quit now, what do you have to show for all that work?

If you find yourself asking that question – and really wondering what it was all for –  allow me to give you an answer:  You have months – MONTHS – of hard work and training to show for it.  You have the knowledge that you did your long runs, or your core work, or your half marathon or marathon training program – with a dedication and commitment that maybe, just maybe, you never had before.  Maybe you have stronger friendships, or healthier relationships, or less stress over the past few months.  Perhaps you have tighter abs, and sexier hammies, and a blonder ponytail.  (I’m just saying.)  Or maybe you just have some awesome nights where you slept like a log because you were so gloriously, awesomely tired, that you just fell into bed, and woke rested and happy. 

No matter what you spent your time training for this season, you’ve gotten something else out of it – other than a medal or a race. 

So if you happen to be one of those people who is breaking – right now – just stop.  Stop hurting yourself and your body.  Take a breath.  Shed those tears when the doc tells you you’re hurt – you’ve earned those.  But do the work you must NOW do to recover.  There are a lot of you out there right now, and you must not lose sight of what you’ve done this summer.  It’s not about the Chicago Marathon, or New York, or that upcoming triathlon.  It’s about building a healthier body – which will help you exercise for life. 

As for me, I’ll be there Sunday, doing the Chicago Triathlon.  I’ll swim my mile, and bike my 26.  But when it comes time to do the 10k run, I’ll take advantage of paying my $150 race fee, and I’ll run/walk my short little 5k.  And at Mile 1.5, I’ll turn around, and head home, shorting the run.  Yeah, it might hurt a little to do it – but last year at this time, I wondered if I’d ever run again.  So I’ll take 3 miles.  And I’ll come in smiling.

See you on the path.

It sounds like a lot.  That’s at least one commitment, every day, for something social – not to mention the working out that needs to be wedged into the schedule.  As I went through physical therapy this morning, where I got the great news that I’m going to be released this week, I couldn’t help but think: with all that on the schedule, am I really doing enough to live an active life? 

Surprisingly (at least to me), I think my answer is “no”.  Let me tell you why.

For the past five months, I’ve been rehabbing a running injury.  For the seven months before that, I was hurt, but not getting treated for the “right” injury.  For the seven months before that,  I was in brutal, everyday pain, which I attempted to run through, only to create more pain.   The list continues, and it aint pretty.   This injury has been a long time coming, but in the past five months, I have worked harder, and exercised more patience, than I ever have in my life.

In all that time, though, the life I had built of being an active, sporty person, somehow became less active, and less sporty.  Oh sure, I was still doing what I could – but instead of doing something active, every day, I was struggling to put something on the calendar where I could be active, but NOT have pain.  It was tough.  Habits changed.  Poundage was gained.  Not poundage I wanted.

In May, when I finally started getting treatment for the injury, I put the Chicago Triathlon on the calendar.  It takes place on August 29.  Last week, I finally got cleared for a return to running program.  It’s been so long since I ran pain-free that I wasn’t sure if I could even get the nerve up to do it.  But I have.  Take that fear, plus the fact that it’s been hot, and it’s been intermittently rainy here, and I haven’t probably ridden, or swam, nearly as much as I wanted (yes, those are also known as BIG FAT EXCUSES).  I’m at about 65% of my training…and I’m not sure if it’s enough.  That said, I have PLENTY of time for are the premiere of Covert Affairs, and the newest Jennifer Weiner novel (loved it!) and Sunday mimosas at the cutest brunch place ever. 

But what am I doing in between?  Am I on my feet – or on my butt – most of my day?  Well, I’m not picking up my house every day.  I’m not walking to the park just because I can.  I’m not biking to the grocery store (which is less than a mile away) ; and I’m not jumping out of bed most mornings to get in a good ride before work.  I’m watching a lot of TV, and I’m sleeping in, baby!

So I’m not where I WANT to be right now, as far as activity is concerned.   The question is: what helps me, Sallie, get back to it?

Part 1: Surround yourself with active friends.  It’s far, far easier to maintain an active life if the people around you are active.  If anything, the past two weeks bears that out for me.  Would I have gotten out of bed at 7:30 on a Sunday morning for a swim in the glass-like waters of Lake Michigan were it not for my friend Abby agreeing to meet me? Nope.  I would have slept in, missed the “rain” window, and blown the best swim I’ve had all season.  When I got there, my other friends Lisa and Joe were also sitting pretty at Ohio Street, and we had a nice chat before jumping in, too.  Would I have caught up with them otherwise?  Yes, but we happened to kill two birds with one stone – something you can do pretty easily when you have active friends.

Part 2: Find a way to build in active engagements.  The weekend before, I served as a bike marshall for the Rock n Roll Chicago half marathon.  I was asked to help because I’m a longtime fan and customer of Chicago Endurance Sports, who provides many of the bike marshalls.  What did I get out of it?  Tons.  A chance to catch up with my running buddies; the amazing view of a totally closed City of Chicago as part of the Lead Pack; and the goodwill of tailing everybody as a sweeper at the end.  That opportunity only came my way though because I’ve done some volunteering with the group before, and they know I like it.  I had a ball, got a great workout in, and got to see my friends again. 

Part 3: Find a solution to the “I have a hard time getting motivated to work out on my own” problem.  My personal challenge is staying active without the social network.  I simply need the motivation of knowing I’m expected to be somewhere, at some time, in order to get moving on some days.  It’s a key part of living an active life for me.

Does that mean that I can’t work out on my own?  No – in fact, I love that, too.  I actually prefer to NOT have to coordinate with others when it comes to some fitness.  But it does mean that when I’m struggling to get workouts in, and struggling to be more active, I call on that network to help fill the missing gap.   This week, it means I made plans to swim with Abby at least ONE night (we said two, but even that’s looking like one); and I’ll probably look to meet another friend for a bike ride on Friday morning.   Also, I have a carrot.

For me, the Chicago Triathlon is such a HUGE priority that I will.not. miss the opportunity because I didn’t get my walk/runs in.  By placing it on the schedule, and knowing that I have to be at a certain level of fitness to complete the race, I will get the walk/run workouts in.  Period.  First, because the race is very long, and it scares me to be unprepared; and second, because it is my single greatest proof – to me, and only to me – that I’ll have healed from this injury.

What does it take for you? This is what it takes for ME to live an active life – to meet the demands of work, and play, in a way that doesn’t make me want to go crazy.  The question is: what does it take for YOU?  Are you doing what you could be doing to lead a more active life?  Are you struggling to do things alone?  What makes you get out the door?  And how can you make it easier?

As we go through this process of becoming more active people, these are the questions we must continue to ask ourselves.  The ONLY way to create sustainable, real change in our lives is to constantly monitor and be aware of what IS and ISN’T working for us, and to adjust accordingly.   Don’t be afraid to be real about who you are, and what works, and what doesn’t.  It can help you change your life.

Think about it, and try out a few solutions.  Figure out who you are, and what you need.  It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth your time and effort.

See you on the path!

The Kleenex people know this.  But if they were really smart, they wouldn’t only make those pocket packs for weddings.  They’d make them for Finish Lines.  Becuase if there’s one place that you can rest assured you’ll see some tears, it’s at the tail end of any half marathon, triathlon, and even a few 5ks.

I know, because I’ve been that person. The first time I finished a Sprint triathlon, I cried.  I remember rounding the corner, and thinking “Oh my God that was hard, but there’s the finish, and you just DID this!”  I crossed the finish line, dropped my hands to my knees, tried not to pass out, and cried.  Then I threw up, but that’s another story.

The first time I finished a half marathon (the Indy  Mini), I cried, too.  The whole last mile, I was trying to keep it together.  I’d never done anything like this – never trained, never stuck with it, never been so proud of actually completing something I said I was going to do.  I was a Big Girl with no willpower (at least that’s what I’d been told for years, subtly or otherwise).  And yet, LOOK!  I could do THIS! I could run for 13 miles, and finish smiling???  If that wasn’t worth tears, I don’t know what was.

So the question is, is there a time and a place for getting emotional?  You bet.  And it’s on the course.  But if you do find yourself amazed and proud, and just a little overwhelmed in that last mile, take it from me: you still have to breathe!  Crying can wreck that breathing mojo, so if it happens to you, just take some breaths, smile, and think of something positive.  Regulate your breathing as best you can, until you get it under control…and then put the hammer down.  You’ve worked too hard to hyperventilate at the finish line!

But once that tape is in your site, go ahead and let it go. Cry like a baby.  Smile through the tears, though, because it IS a happy day – and you’ve earned the right to enjoy it.

I’ll be looking forward to the laughs and the tears this Sunday, at the Rock n Roll Chicago Half Marathon.  I’ll be bike marshalling this year, so if you see a Big Girl on a bike, say hello, and introduce yourself!  I’ll be cheering for you, all the way!

See you on the path!

I liked mini-golf a lot to begin with.  It had a clear beginning and end, and a purpose I could relate to – hit the ball in that hole (which was no more than 10 feet away.)  I also enjoyed that, in Cincinnati’s soup-like humidity, I could be outside, but not have to run around and get all pink-faced like I did when I played soccer.

But most of all, I liked the fact that I got to hit things indiscriminately.  Once I actually figured out what I was doing, I wasn’t really any good at golf, but I made contact enough to like it.  I’d pick up a rental club, stand over the ball, and whack at it.  Sometimes I made contact, sometimes I didn’t. 

My dad would stand behind me (mostly, immediately behind me) and offer insruction on how I could improve.  Never shy about my personal space, I’d let him get in a few comments before telling him he could stuff it and leave me alone.  How could I know that he was trying to teach me a sport I’d play for life?  I was a snarky 11 year old who knew better.  Please.

Of course, I never really aimed for anything.  Oh, sure, there were flags out there.  But I just needed to hit.the.ball.  I didn’t care where it went, because it wasn’t a part of anything larger for me.  I wasn’t playing for money, or keeping score of how many times I hit the green.  In fact, I usually wanted to get out of there as fast as I could because I wasn’t nearly as good as those people around me, and who needs to prolong THAT kind of misery?   

Turns out, when I finally did get around to playing on a real course, I wasn’t much good.  All I had really learned to do was make contact.  I didn’t know how to avoid the trees down the right side of the fairway, or to modulate the distsance on a shot.  And I didn’t really care for the fact that it didn’t come easy to me.  I think, before I turned 18, I played only one real round of golf with my dad.  And then I didn’t play again until I was 24.

Only then, when I was getting back into the sport with some seriously fun friends, did I learn the key to practicing:  aim for something.  All the time, I’d go to the driving range at Diversey here in Chicago, and see these guys, winding up like 30-year-old versions of my punky 10-year-old self.  They’d just pound the ball wherever, and never give any thought as to where it was going.  Which is great, if you’re just angry.  But if you’re actually trying to accomplish something, you’ve got to learn how to aim.  An instructor once told me that going to the range to practice was absolutely useless, unless every single time I got over the ball, I aimed for a flag.  With golf, you can concentrate a lot, or a little.  Sometimes, you can get so wrapped up in the grip, or your stance, that you forget to aim.  You forget what you’re trying to accomplish.  And sometimes, you don’t even have the grip or the stance to blame.  Sometimes, you just stand over the ball, and fire. 

But that’s not the way to become a better golfer.  To do that, you have to aim every time.  And then you’ve got to learn finesse.  You’ve got to check your fundamentals.  You’ve got to learn what makes a ball shank to the left or slice right, and what small, simple changes can impact your entire game.  In short, you’ve got to become a student of the sport. 

That’s a lesson I think we can easily apply to training for any event, whether it’s your first 5k, or your fifth triathlon.  You see, when you first start training for triathlons (for example), you think that it’s all about getting in the miles.  You’ve just got to pound out a half mile in the pool.  Who cares if you’re efficient? You don’t want to drown.  Then, there’s the bike.  Most of us are simply concerned with making sure we don’t get a flat…and that we can actually remove a water bottle from our rack and not end up on YouTube while doing it.  Small goals, right?  Even with the run, at first, all you care about is having the legs to wrap up a 10k after a 26 mile bike, and a mile swim.  You don’t care about pacing or strategy.  You can’t focus on technique, because you’re too worried about baseline fitness, and not dying out there.

But after awhile, you realize something important:  when you’re just getting in the pool, day after day – or on your bike, because that’s what the schedule calls for, you’re not really doing yourself any favors.  Yes, you’re learning how to pound the ball (figuratively speaking), but are you learning how to aim for the flag?  Are you paying attention to the feeling in your chest when you push it too hard on your swim?  Are you doing the drills that will make you more efficient, or are you just clocking time?  Do you know whether or not you’re wasting energy as you haul yourself down the lane, day after day?  And on the bike, are you still operating on the same gear you’ve been on since day one, or have you ever figured out how to really climb a hill?  Have you learned how to change that flat so it doesn’t ruin your race?  Or are you still at the range, firing away, hoping that things will come together?  

These journeys we take are important.  They have the opportunity to let us become more aware of our bodies, our capabilities, and yes, sometimes our limits.  But they also give us the chance to expand our body of knowledge – to truly learn something more about the sports we’re trying, and to take those skills into other areas.  When I learned how to change a tire on my bike (which didn’t happen until the Chicago Endurance Sports Triathlon Training in 2003, a full FOUR years after I started doing triathlons), it rocked my world.  I went from having a panic attack every time I saw glass in the road to knowing that I would be able to help myself – and others – whenever I needed it.  It also gave me a whole new world to ride in, because I was no longer limited to taking rides with other people, in the city, where a cab or a friend could come and get me if I flatted out.  Suddenly, I was free to ride wherever I wanted.  And that meant I could ride hills, and practice my cadence, and feel what race day would feel like – and that, that was very, very cool. 

You, too have the ability to build your skills, and learn more about yourself, and your sport.   But you have to consciously think about what you want to accomplish when you go out, every day.  Yes, there will be days when you just want to pound away, with no goal in mind.  But mostly, there will be something you can learn, something you can accomplish, as you’re becoming an expert in your sport.  I call it Aiming for the Flag.  It’s a simple concept, but one that can help you sustain your enthusiasm for the sport long after your first race is done.  Because when you become an expert (and here’s the kick) it gets easier.  You can make those adjustments to stay on course, to save energy, and to hit your targets.  You just need to focus on them to get there.  

So next time you go out for a run, or a swim, or a bike ride, think about what you’re really trying to get out of the day.  Pick one thing – just one – and pay attention to it.  Think about your swimming form, or how you feel on hydration on the bike, or how you can get the most power from your ride.  Pay attention.  And pick a small goal, for every session, to keep you focused.

I promise you, the rewards you see will make that little bit of patience, that little bit of finesse, worth your while.

See you on the path…

This blog is about ‘moving more when there’s more to move.’ I know a little bit more about that now as I complete my ninth month of pregnancy as what I like to call ‘Plus Baby.’

I was initially tempted to use this opportunity as guest-author to dispel all the nonsense I’ve heard throughout pregnancy while trying to maintain my fitness. Despite full consensus in the medical community that exercise and running (yes, running) is safe to sustain (not train!) during low-risk pregnancies, there is still much public misperception about what a pregnant gal can or should do. What’s even more counter to popular wisdom is that pregnancy is a known performance enhancer. That’s why it’s been a controversy in the Olympic community for years as a way (aka ‘abortion doping’) to gain competitive edge.

But as I listed out all the hog-wash and myths that I’d love to debunk as someone who has earned her right to be a little snarky after 34 weeks of tuning out the haters, I had a revelation: a few days ago while reclined with a book, as inactive as ever, my unborn son decided to give me a one-two punch from the gut. After saying a few choice words that will soon retire from my mommy-vocabulary, I have to admit I felt immediate pride—“That’s my boy! Strong. Healthy. Ready to BRING it!” And that’s when I decided to ditch my plan to unload pragmatic information and instead focus on the inspiration of a most obvious insight: we are born to move.

What’s more—our bodies  are designed to do bad-ass things, like skipping, hopscotch, jumping rope, climbing Everest and breaking boundaries. From the time when each of us is kicking in the womb we are physically declaring: ‘I am alive and I’m a force to be reckoned with.’

So, 20, 30, 40 years later, why is it so hard to keep kicking? Now that I’m Plus Baby I can testify that exercise is no joke when there is more to move. Every motion requires more from us than, say, when we were 26 pounds lighter. Yet, running (sometimes wogging) through 8 months of pregnancy has taught me that we can do it. Here are a few thoughts for those who want to help change public perception of what is possible for ANYONE that doesn’t look like Dean Karnazes and/or need a born-again kick in the butt:

• Act like a BABY. A fierce baby. A baby that says, ‘Heck, yeah, I’ve got legs! Heck, yeah, I’ve got arms!’ Be impressed with all your 2000 body parts. Just think about how far you came in those first 40 weeks of life? What could you accomplish in 40 weeks now? With an Ipod. With awesome gear. Without being tied to your mother.
• Listen and trust your BODY above all else… This is what really defines an athlete—the ability to be completely in-tune with the body’s performance. I intentionally haven’t checked my heart rate once since I was 7 weeks pregnant—doctor’s orders—but I know faster than any Garmin when I need to let my split time dive. Learn to listen carefully and it will tell you everything you need to know.
• …but mind your MIND. This is where our limits live, if we let them. The mind loves slippery slopes—rationalizations about why we CAN’T. But if we wield this internal voice as THE greatest means for connecting with our bodies, it will take us further than we thought possible. Learn to negotiate with your mind like you’re a teenager again and it’s Friday night. (One. More. Minute. One. More. Mile.)
• Get going now to catch the Sustain Train. If you’re planning to have kids anytime in the next 1-2 years, now is the time to get to the place you want to be when you start pregnancy. Because once you’re Plus Baby, the focus is on sustaining fitness, not training. It’s like baking a cake using only the ingredients you already have in the house. Whatever routine you’re in when that second pink line appears, guess what? That’s the cake you’re going to eat a lot of for many months to come. Give yourself a due date to stock your pantry now unless you really like the taste of flour.
• Embrace the naysayers. Let their skepticism fuel your tank. Revel in the funny looks and quirky smirks that reveal their profound confusion about how you’re defying gravity. Smile. Kick up a little dust behind you. And if you really want to blow their mind, tell them you just did a Kegel. (This last point is even more effective if you’re a dude.)
• When in doubt, choose sanity over vanity. We all know great shoes and bra are a must. Everything else is just ‘icing’ on the cake: matching and cuteness are overrated. Don’t fall for the ideological Kelly Ripp-off. Sure, who doesn’t appreciate a coordinated outfit? But am I going to let a little spit-up and baby funk on my gear stand in the way of a great run? N-O. I’m actually hoping it will buy me some extra space on the path. So, if the only reasonably clean gear that fits are your hot pink running shorts and puke-green army tank, rock them like Rainbow Brite. (Trust me, you will still look a million times more together than our dear friends in the post-natal group.)

The bottom line: the benefits of getting and staying active now and if you plan to become pregnant are countless, including:

-          Greater self-confidence

-          Increased energy

-          Sanity! Less stress

-          Less weight gain (for those hot mom jeans)

-          Less rapid weight gain (no/less stretch marks!)

-          Better sleep and circulation

-          Easier delivery and recovery after baby or other Major Life Event

Sure, I’ll be giving myself this same ‘made to move’ pep talk when I’m a sleep-deprived zombie talking to my breast pump—but let’s make a pact: on the days when we’d much rather climb back into bed and assume the fetal position, let’s throw back the covers, put a spring in our step and remind ourselves: we were born to do this.

I’ve been watching the temps rise, and trying to plan a day to get back in the lake.  Though it’s merely a mile from my house, I wanted to take advantage of the Ohio Street Beach, from which a nice 1/2 mile stretch of water runs next to Lake Shore Drive and offers a straight shot of swimming in a protected cove (with a 5′ depth the entire way).  It’s also watched over by lifeguards, which means it’s safe, too. 

I haven’t been in the pool yet this spring/summer. For one reason or another, I just haven’t been working in the swim workout, and as this week approached, I was wondering if starting off in the lake was the right way to go.

See, this week officially began my training for the Chicago Triathlon.  Oh, did I not mention that?  Yeah. I got a little ambitious a few weeks back and decided that the only way to stay active this summer was to put the Olympic back on my schedule.  So Monday began the schedule (borrowing heavily from last year’s) to get me ready for the distance.  That included an 800M time trial on Thursday.

I enjoy swimming after work, and Thursday was no exception (except that I needed to jet to Book Club after. Slight overschedule).   As I arrived at the beach, I pulled on the wetsuit with a minimum of fuss (and noted that when you have a suit that fits you, there’s far less walrus-wrestling).  It was the first time I had swam in this new suit, an Xterra that I bought last year at the end of the season.  This one has sleeves (I had also bought a sleeveless, but thought the sleeves might be a good option for 68 degree water).  Turns out, the sleeves were probably overkill – AND they required quite an adjustment for me.

I set my watch and wandered into the lake, surprised at how nice the temp was.  Two guys coming out were smiling like kids who just got out of school early.  “It’s great, right?” the one guy said to me.  I nodded. “I can’t believe it’s this warm – in JUNE!”  We were so excited because, as veterans of Lake Michigan swimming, we knew it was usually mid-July before it was this warm.

Turns out, the water being warm didn’t give me superhuman strength, though.  As I got started swimming, my arms felt like lead, and I couldn’t seem to keep my hair from getting caught in the velcro in the back of my suit (even though I had a swim cap on).  My goggles were leaving bruises on my eye sockets, and I simply couldn’t find my mojo.

After 4 minutes, I stopped and stood up.  I didn’t have the heart rate monitor on, but I knew I was working too hard, and needed to slow it down.  So I channeled a little U2 and began humming on the exhale, my equivalent of the “talk test” in running.  Yes, this was a “time trial”, but I also needed to get through a half a mile.  That meant slowing down.

So slow down I did.  After awhile, the arms got a little better, and I even remembered some of the form lessons I learned last season.  I made it through a quarter mile in a molasses-like 14 minutes, turned around, and headed back. 

It was not an “A” day.  And I’ll admit, I was pretty mad at myself.  For most of those ten minutes heading back in, I was giving myself a drubbing.  “Why haven’t you been in the pool?”  “What’s so important about work that you’re not making time?” “Why not make time for THIS, the best sport for you?’  It’s been awhile since I kicked my own ass that much.  But you know what?  It didn’t help.  As I got closer to the finishing point, I was even more dejected than when I started.  And I had just swum almost a half a mile, having not been in the pool since January.  Nothing hurt, nothing was broken, and I was fine.  Yes, I was slow, but I was getting it done. 

And that’s what I started to tell myself. 

See, we all have different paces to our journeys.  I generally like to give myself credit for doing ANYTHING active, and try to stay away from the self-flaggelation.  But Thursday night, I was really mad at myself, and it was okay, too, to look inside and realize it doesn’t have to be this hard.  I can make better choices, and plan realistically, and work in working out as much as I want.  But what I really ended up telling myself was this:  I had a lot of choices on Thursday.  I could have stayed at work late.  I could have left and went straight to meet the girls at book club.  I could have skipped them both and went home and sat on the couch.  But I took the path I had planned, and I got in the lake, and I swam. 

It’s only one night, but more than ever, I was reminded of John Bingham’s great mantra: the miracle isn’t that I finished, but that I had the courage to start.  On Thursday night, having been away from the pool for awhile, and seriously, seriously wanting to quit so many times, I hung onto that statement.  I kept swimming until the beach touched my feet again, and when I got out, I was smiling.   And it wasn’t about my 30 minute time trial.  It was because against all indications to the contrary, I had prioritized that one night of moving, and felt better for it.

So I guess this week’s lesson is this:  there are days when training and being active may not be as easy, or as convenient, or as rewarding, as we might expect.  It’s the law of averages.  Hard days are part of the game.  But they’re always good for you, in ways you can’t begin to comprehend until you’ve gone through them.

So that’s it from here.  Keep training, keep dropping me lines, and keep your chin up. 

See you on the path!

I’ve been thinking about that a lot these last few weeks, as I just moved into a new apartment.  It’s a “walk up” which means to get to the third floor, semi-palatial estate (let’s be real, it has air conditioning, which makes it semi-palatial), I have to actually walk up 3 flights of stairs.  Every time I want to go home, that’s the requirement.  Three flights.  Every time I buy something, order something, or simply finish a day with my 15 pounds of work stuff, it’s 3 flights.  Those three flights don’t seem like much, but I couldn’t help but think of that Fit to Live concept again on Friday evening, when I returned home to find my spanking new Adirondack chair from Land’s End – parked just outside the front door and not, to my disappointment, next to my third-floor door.

As I hauled the slightly awkward box up the three flights (I did have to stop once), I found myself really irritated.  I was sweaty from the walk home from the train.  Then I was sweaty again as I hauled the box up the stairs.  The packing weight was a mere 42 pounds.  But it came in a box that was 3′ x 4′ x 1′ (at least) which meant for somewhat tough going.  Alas, I prevailed.  But I couldn’t help think “this should be easier”.

Also this weekend, I took a nice long bike ride along our lakefront path. When I returned, some 16 miles later, I needed to haul the road bike up the back stairs (in my bike cleats, which was hysterical).  The bike weighs in somewhere around 17 pounds, so you can imagine, it was easier.  But my heart was still beating faster, and my legs let me know they had been used quite a bit that day.  And in the end, I couldn’t stop asking myself the question:  “Am I fit to live?” 

The simple answer is: I don’t know.  Over the years, I’ve discovered that I have great reserves when it comes to endurance running, cycling, or swimming.  I can hike for miles, and though it’s challenging, I know I can do it. But, in direct proportion to my weight, I’ve never had any delusions of being speedy at any of these tasks.  I’ve been a long distance girl, to be sure.  And the thing with emergencies – and, with life – is that they’re not all long-distance kind of things.  

Does my failure in the world of anaerobic excellence mean that I’m not strong? Certainly not.  Could I deadlift my own weight out of, say, the Tennessee River?  (Hypothetically, this might have had to happen at one point in my past).  No, I most certainly could not.  (But I could have swam my way out of it, to be sure.) 

And what about wandering around – just simple wandering?   My friend and I were walking around Michigan Avenue a few weeks ago, one night after work.  My right foot (the one with the annoying plantar fasciitis I’ve been working to heal) was bothering me, and as we walked to dinner (me with the 20 pound computer bag on my shoulder), I was wishing I’d worn better shoes.  I was cranky and it was only the steak ahead that kept me moving.  The foot hurt, from something as simple as shopping.  Now THAT’s annoying.  And yet, it was only the pain that was a problem, not any kind of shopping endurance.    It wasn’t an anaerobic weakness that felled me there, just a pain problem.

For many of us, though, something as simple as climbing three flights of stairs instead of one flight is a big deal.  Running across a street to beat a light is tough.  Digging a hole for that new fence makes us sweat.  Shoveling a sidewalk can be annoyingly difficult.  Some of this is to be expected.  Work makes our heart race, and our bodies sweat.  And sometimes we don’t like that feeling.  So we shy away from it, and take a seat, or a ride, or pay someone else to do the hard work for us.  And in doing so, we continue down a path that involves a lot less work, and a lot less of what I call cross-training for life.

Here’s the catch, though.  We all know we have the ability to train our bodies for this kind of demand, too.  Many of you are dedicated runners and triathletes, and you have incredible reserves of strength and character.  But maybe, just maybe, you’re like me – and you take the easy way out when it comes to everyday life sometimes. 

That can change.  You can make a promise to start small – by doing your own yardwork,  or by getting friendly with your stairs.  (After four weeks in the new place, walking up three flights is so much easier than it was when I started, I’m actually kind of amazed).  And you can keep doing it by looking for simple ways to get more activity in.  Can you walk to the store, or bike?  Can you walk up the stairs to the train, instead of the escalator?  Can you, once in awhile during your run, run for a block just a bit faster than you normally would?  Yeah, you probably can.  And if you can’t do it all, today, you will, if you just start focusing on it, a little bit at a time.

So I guess my advice today is this: don’t take the easy way out.  Find the equivalent of your third-floor walkup, and test yourself on it regularly.  Accept that it’s okay to struggle with the anaerobic activities of life, but think about challenging yourself on more of it.   Work to fill in the non-endurance fitness side of your life.  Trust me, you’ll feel stronger, and healthier, and more ready for whatever comes next.

See you on the path -

I like to think  I’ve just had my own haitus here the past month or so, disappearing from the blog, and from a regular exercise routine.  Except, here’s the thing:  no showy finale.  No big revelations.  Not much at all.  More like the FCC pulled my license to write (and exercise) and I just whimpered into the sunset. 

So apologies to those who’ve come round the last month looking for inspiration or fun or just plain cheap clothes!  I have lots of reasons why I’ve not been here (I have a “new” full time job, and I’m working more, and I moved homes, and have had some travel….and, well, technically, I’m not really doing a whole lot of exercising other than biking, because I’m doing PT a few times a week)…but wait, you probably don’t care, do you?

Well, that’s fair. You shouldn’t have to care – and you know what, that’s okay. 

If I’ve learned anything from this little break, it’s this:  the excuses don’t matter.  It doesn’t matter what keeps you from doing the things you love – it’s how you get back to it that counts.  Maybe you’re on a haitus, too, right now. Maybe your sneakers are dusty, and your goggles are drying out.  But both of them will work when you get back on the path, or in the pool.  And those lovely, inanimate objects (shoes, goggles, path and pool) could care less that you started taking a class, or got sucked into a new show, or had to work on a project that was so busy you barely had time to sleep.  Those inanimate objects will welcome you back, and not judge where you’ve been, or where you’re headed.   And the people – those people who are your running friends, your rowing friends, or your former “hang out and go for a walk” friends- they won’t care, either.  They’ll just be glad to see you again.

I learned that the easy way – last weekend, as I took off for Door County, to ride my bike in gorgeous Peninsula State Park while my friends ran the Door County Half Marathon.  As the Chicago Endurance Sports crew ran through the most serene, most gorgeous course I’ve seen, I pedaled my way through a park that made me ache for Acadia, and dream of spring rides.  It was pretty, and it was easy.  And I was shocked.  After all, I’ve been “only” walking and doing core strengthening for the past few months.  But it turns out, if you’re easy on yourself when you come back from haitus, you can enjoy the return – with no drama, no fireworks, and certainly no breakdowns. 

This week, the return continues with Episodes 2 and 3 – riding, and riding some more, to prepare for Little Red.  While I’m at it, I’m also doing something else TV-esque:  I’m setting the DVR, exercise style.  Seriously – if I can “prioritize” shows on DirecTV, and record Top Gear over Castle, why can’t I prioritize a morning bike ride over sleeping in?  Or an evening ride over a Cubs game?  Well, I can.  But another valuable TV lesson here:  I do HAVE to choose at some point – and every time I choose a non-workout option when I plan my week, there  is a real cost. 

So I’m planning (always planning) and we’ll see if I can deliver.  I’ll keep you posted on the post-haitus recovery, and in the meantime, thanks for reading, and thanks for coming back.

See you on the path!

But, if you’ve been struck by a desire to challenge yourself – or, to simply stay active – setting goals and trying to knock them down becomes a bit addicting.  I know, because I can’t go through a Spring season without signing up for new races, and trying to plan my summer around trying just. one. more. race.

If you’ve been bitten by THAT bug, you may be one of the ten people who’s asked me in the past few weeks how to get started in triathlons.  Perhaps I’m overstating the case, but all of the sudden, it feels like EVERYONE has found out about my favorite, secret sport.

And what’s not to love?  Triathlon is a great starter sport.  Aside from the mastering of three disciplines, and the sometimes overcomplicated lists of gear, if you can swim, bike, and run, this is a sport for you. 

But say, for argument’s sake, that you’re new to triathlon, and want to train.  Where should you get started? Do you need a training group if you’re only doing a sprint? Can you train and work – or even, travel – at the same time?  And what about the gear? 

In the next few posts, we’ll talk about some of the unique issues surrounding triathlon, but for today, I just want to share some online and print resources to help you understand the training approach, and how you might begin to accomplish a goal of completing your first tri.

Training Schedules and Guidance

When I first started doing triathlons in 1999, I pulled down a free, easy schedule from www.trinewbies.com . (at the time, it could fit in a single graph. It’s safe to say things have gotten a bit more detailed since then.)    I think I used an 8 or 10 week schedule, which called for morning and evening workouts of less than 45 minutes each.  I stuck to it, but not too close…and it got me through my first race. 

Today, there are a variety of programs out there, including free guidance at www.beginnertriathlete.com (Sprint programs here).

If you want a more detailed read, combined with a training schedule, and some advice on how to avoid purchasing too much gear, check out Joel Friel’s book, “Your First Triathlon”.  For less than the cost of dinner at your favorite restaurant, you’ll have a good guide to help navigate your new sport.

Do you travel for work?  Find it hard to work in a workout?  Looking for some additional detail about how to cross train (this is you, my running friends).  If so, I’d highly recommend “Triathlon Training in Four Hours a Week”.  Sure, more than four hours will give you a better time, but if you’re working within some constraints (um, children?) this is a good book which will give you a ton of knowledge about core exercises and training, while letting you pick and choose from what you need.

Next up: finding a local training group – what to look for, and how to make the most of your training experience. 

Until then, read up, and take a look at that summer schedule. I’ll just bet there’s a race with your name on it.