Monthly Archives: March 2012

Movin’ and Shaken

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Unsettled is the best way I know how to describe the atmosphere of my life and surroundings right now. My house is full of moving boxes, the trajectory of my thoughts is about as focused as a bottle rocket and my stomach is playing host to a flock of hyper-active butterflies. I have recently been presented with a hundred different opportunities to learn something about myself, and how I handle stressful situations and people, as well as what my priorities may or may not be. Most often when I’m about to give myself the gold star for “Best Life Micromanagement,” God hands me a pop quiz containing only one question: “Do you trust me or not?” It’s test time here in Tennessee.

What does any of this have to do with training for a triathlon? If my eyes and ears remain open, everything. I had what ended up being a wonderful run on Monday through my neighborhood. I am lucky to live in one of the most active, creative and lively neighborhoods in Nashville and I love the route that I’ve mapped out for myself. I like taking mini-breaks to check out the beautiful hats in the window of Hat Wrks when I’m running down 10th Ave. And because I still struggle with the cleanliness of my diet, I always stop to see what’s new and fattening on the menu posted in the window at the BBQ joint on 12th Ave. We are who we are right? This particular Monday I found myself focusing not on the joy of being outside on a beautiful day but on the things going “wrong” in life. Here is a little snapshot of the negativity I let creep into my lovely run:

“The house closing is two weeks behind, the movers are coming regardless and nothing I’ve tried to get done with this move has worked out. I guess the beagles and I are going to have to live in a storage unit. It better have air-conditioning.”

“Was it really necessary for my coffee pot to explode this morning?”

“Of course the beagles tag-teamed a snake in the yard yesterday when my nerves were already on edge. Why me?!?”

“I work so hard, but no one seems to notice or care.”

 “I missed three workouts last week. I will never be able to finish a triathlon.”

 “What am I doing with my life?”

All that in the first 15 minutes of my run? Impressive. The ungrateful, negative chatter I was putting out there into the universe came right back at me when an SUV came crashing right into the middle of the pity parade I was allowing to roll through Crazy Town, of which I am sometimes mayor. I was turning left and came within 3 inches of being hit by a driver making a right turn. I jumped out of the way and stopped long enough to watch the driver pull to the side of the road and look back to make sure I was ok. Part of me wanted to run to her car and demand she open her window so that I could hurl profanities at her and demand that she attend driving school, but instead I gave a little wave that let her know I was ok and went  about my business.

I could have done without that near run-in with tragedy, but it sure shocked me out of the self-serving chatter that I’ve been working to eliminate from my life. Shaken but still moving. In my past life I would have gone straight home, said screw the whole triathlon training thing and probably gone out and had a three or six-cocktail kind of lunch. But in my experience, which is the only thing I can share, these unsettling moments open my ears to that question God keeps asking me: “Do you trust me or not?”

Two years ago, I began to let go of things in my life that were keeping me from being the person I want to be. Unhealthy people. Unhealthy body. An unhealthy consumption of chardonnay. If you knew me three years ago and I told you I was going to start training for a triathlon, you would have spit out your drink in shock and asked for the punchline.

It’s obvious to me  that my answer to God’s question has often times been  “no.” And sometimes in a moment of self-induced drama it still is. Today, however, it is “yes” and “thank you.”  Thank you for allowing me to find a great house in the same great neighborhood that I thought I was going to have to move out of. Thank you for these two feet of mine that allow me to run. Thank you for the ridiculous beagles that make me laugh at least ten times a day. Thank you for the motivation to work hard no matter what door closes in my face. Thank you for the ability to slap a piece of duct tape over my own mouth when the negative chatter starts.

There is a church that I pass in the last ½ mile of the route I run. I love running by to see what pearl of wisdom they’ve put up for the week. I stopped and took this photo during Monday’s run.

Rain, Rain Don’t Go Away

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“
Don’t take your toys inside just because it’s raining.” -Cher

Monday’s run was the start of Week 6 of my training and the second week of the first 10% build in the intensity of my workouts. Weeks 1-4 were my base building weeks and I made it through those mostly unscathed with the exception of the pesky piriformis issue that continues to vex me.  (See the Piriformis Perplexus related post below.) I worked out fairly regularly before I started training so I was ready to start the build after the first month of workouts. The best amateur explanation of the increase that I can offer is this: My runs have increased by 5 minutes and I’m working in one heart rate zone higher than last month. The same goes for the bike workouts. My swims have increased from 600 and 700 meters to 800 meters. Oh, yes, the pain train is gathering steam and dragging this non-athlete right behind it.

It was  a rainy day in Nashville Monday, but I wanted to skip the YMCA and run outside anyway. The rain makes me homesick and I’ve been missing Mississippi  more than usual recently. One of my favorite things to do is to drink coffee in my sister’s kitchen and watch an afternoon thunderstorm roll in over the water, all while being serenaded by my song-writing, ukulele-playing 5-year-old nephew. (My favorite tune of his being the recently penned masterpiece, Christmas Cat.) On my last trip home to Biloxi in December I got in a great run along Highway 90 (Beach Blvd.) which runs parallel to the 26 miles of beaches that make up the MS Gulf Coast.  A great rainstorm came in while I was out there and instead of running from it back to the car, I ran as fast as I could straight into it. It was the best, most invigorating run I’ve ever had. Not that I have a lot of great runs to choose from, but I would rank this experience #1 without thinking twice.

Here is a photo I took at the start of the run before the rain came in:

Post-run back on my sister’s dock:

When I woke up on Monday Run Day and confirmed that the weather in Nashville was indeed crummy, (some say crummy, I say perfect) I decided to take the training outside. This subject brings to mind a conversation I once had with the bestie, Megan, whom you met in an earlier post, during a particular rainy week last year. She knows that my soul is happiest when the forecast calls for a few days of rain. It went like this:

Megan: It won’t stop raining.

Me: I know, I love it. It’s supposed to be sunny again tomorrow and that depresses me. 

Megan: You’re so weird.

Me: I know it. 

Is it socially awkward for an adult to be running through the neighborhood in inclement weather while loudly singing show tunes and trying to catch the raindrops in her mouth? Maybe. But in my world, I’m not sure I trust the adults who find this sort of behavior odd.  And so,  while wearing my Biloxi Beach ball cap, that’s just what I did.

Related Posts:

Piriformus Perplexus Round 1

Rain Sometimes - A song about rain written by Tyler Summers and myself, produced by the amazing Paul Umbach.

Race Registration And The Proust Questionairre

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“Good, better, best. Never let it rest. Until your good is better and your better is best.” 

-Tim Duncan

March 1st was the official first day of early registration for the Santa Rosa Island Triathlon. I filled out my form, paid my fees and then realized that I was shaking and felt like I was going to throw up. Nerves. Mine tend to be on high alert at all times. I said to myself, “Grant. Slow your roll, girl. It’s only registration. The race is still 7 months away.” I then realized that although I may need one the day of the triathlon, popping a Valium or a Dramamine on race day isn’t going to be an option. I don’t know that I’ve ever had a Valium, but I did take Dramamine on my first snorkeling trip in Key Largo last year and felt my apprehension about face-to-face contact with sea life dissolve into bliss. However enticing self-medicating may seem, I think I’ll want my nerves and the accompanying adrenaline in full force during the race.

For example, when I’m about to hop on stage to sing and I’m too calm and overly indifferent about what I’m about to do, that’s when I will forget the words to my own songs. That’s when I will magically forget how to play a simple four-chord progression. A little edge makes me more focused, more in the moment and always makes for a better performance. That has been a hard-won realization though, because for most of my life I thought being nervous meant that I must be under-prepared, not good enough, doomed to fail or all of the above. Deciding to compete in a triathlon is one more step in the process of   learning to harness anxiety, not take myself too seriously and to put a muzzle on the exasperatingly unfriendly voice in my head that tells me I can’t do something.

The most overwhelming part of the registration form was the section that asked me to estimate the amount of time it would take me to complete the triathlon. They might as well have asked me to fill out a Proust Questionnaire for the amount of analytical deep thinking resulting from one innocent little question. For those wondering what the hell a Proust Questionnaire is, its a series of thought-provoking questions created in the late 1800′s designed to help you trawl the depths of your personality in hopes of gaining a deeper level of self-knowledge. I first discovered it in Vanity Fair Magazine and read it faithfully every month. Its name is derived from the set of answers given by writer Marcel Proust in 1890. Here are three examples:

What is your idea of perfect happiness?

What is your greatest fear?

On what occasion do you lie?

Hmmm….On what occasion do I lie? Well, is it lying, technically, to say that I’ll finish the triathlon in under two hours when deep down I’m not sure that I won’t be cruising up to the finish line after they’ve actually taken down the finish line and re-opened the roads? I don’t think so. Finish times aside, my only goal in this entire odyssey is to complete the triathlon and hopefully learn something about myself along the way. For someone who went to superhuman lengths (setting a record for most semesters spent as a guidance office helper) to avoid ever having to add PE to my school schedule, signing up for my first triathlon is pretty darn exciting.

Next: My first 10% build week, perfectly functioning hamstrings and why having great girlfriends makes your workouts better and you a better person.

Santa Rosa Island Triathlon 2012

Answer The Proust Questionnaire

Hamstrings and Fake Grass

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Due to the muscle pain I was having last week, this week’s training has been limited to swimming. Taking Friday and Sunday off and sticking with drills in the pool has been a big help in eliminating the stiffness and the minor pain that was still hanging around. So naturally taking up an offer to try a boot camp class at D1 in Franklin Tuesday night seemed like something I could handle having just gone through some down time.

D1 is a Nashville area sports training complex co-owned by Peyton Manning that draws top college and professional athletes from around the country, most recently athletes training for the NFL Combine. I must say first that I have never given a rip about football, with the exception of the New Orleans Saints. I’m from the Mississippi Gulf Coast and they are the closest thing we have to a hometown team. We love us some Saints, y’all! However, my football knowledge is limited to the following phrases:

             “I think the chains are moving.”

             “It’s anyone’s game.”

            “It’s a real barn burner.”

I learned the last one from my triathlon coach during this year’s Superbowl and I’m still not sure what it means. My sports commentary has always been more Andy Samberg than Erin Andrews and I’m OK with that. So I was surprised to find myself recently drawn to the TV to watch the NFL Combine broadcasts. The capabilities of the human body, specifically what those pro-athletes accomplish is astonishing and intensely inspiring. I may never be capable of a ten-foot four-inch broad jump but dang it, I’m going to put my body to the test and see what it can do!

That leads me back to the boot camp class. The D1 complex is the real deal and one of the coolest athletic facilities I’ve ever walked into. Not that I’ve walked into a lot of athletic facilities in my life, but I can surmise that D1 is one of the best. Knowing that some of the guys I had just watched in the combine had been training on the same Astroturf just a week or two earlier made me feel 6’5” and invincible. But as it turns out, in reality I’m still 5’4” and prone to muscle pulls.

My first struggle at D1 was overcoming the embarrassment of verbalizing to the boot camp instructor the internal conversation I was having with myself regarding the grass.

         Me: This grass isn’t real. It’s Astroturf, right?

         Me: Well, it kind of feels real.

         Me: Just ask the teacher.

         Me: I won’t sound dumb?

         Me: You won’t be able to focus until you know.

It was one of those moments that as soon as my mouth opened I was immediately regretting it and wishing that I had the ability, even on rare occasions, to just keep it shut. For the most part I’ve accepted that I am who I am, but still wish that someone would invent a filter that prevents a person from saying things out loud that maybe they should keep to themselves. They would make a fortune off of me.

The second struggle involved my hamstrings. I stepped onto the field to start the warm-ups and both my hamstrings immediately seized up like a car engine that is completely devoid of oil. That is the best way I know how to describe it. And unfortunately I know what it feels like when a car engine completely devoid of oil seizes up, but that’s another story for another time. As much as I wanted to power through the workout like a pro, I took it at my own non-professional pace and did what I could. The workout alternated between running, some legwork (lunging) and working the upper body with weights. I was able to run for most of the workout, but by the end was walking because of the pain in the back of my legs. I’m wondering if it wasn’t my hamstring last Thursday that was the real issue presenting itself in my hip instead of my leg. My coach did say that was a possibility.

On a positive note, I felt the benefits of the swimming I’ve been doing during the upper-body work. I felt stronger and more capable of getting through all of the reps without flaking. It doesn’t feel great to admit it, but in the past I would have put on a great show while the instructor was looking, then put the weights down and run out the back door when he wasn’t.

So here I am again with my heating pad (post-icing) cursing myself for not being smart. I will definitely go back to D1 for the boot camp class, if not for a while. Coach Dan was a great instructor, the class was one of the best boot camp classes I’ve taken and I can see how it would benefit my overall triathlon training. My goal for the next post is to have no aches, pains and embarrassing conversation to report. Progress not perfection, people.