Limping around the Office. It Must Be Tuesday

I have found a new friend at the gym: the Bosu Ball.

It looks like a yoga ball that has had its end chopped off and stuck on a piece of hard plastic. According to the website: "At its essence, BOSU® Training is about expanding movement capabilities while reshaping the body and strengthening the mind." I don't know about all of that, but I do know that it's a fun tool for those of us who are sick of regular squats and lunges. I used it yesterday as a platform - a wobbly, shaky platform - for military presses and then attempted to do squats on the hard plastic side while trying not to bust my ass. I don't know if it'll make me fitter, stronger, or a better athlete. But hey - it's still fun.

The Bosu is part of my attempt to not be sore after lifting. I thought that I would be able to do more reps with lighter weights, and as a result I wouldn't be achy from the waist down for the next three days. But guess what: I was wrong. Here I am, in my cute little glittery shoes, limping around the office and trying not to whimper.

The Possibility of Fish

Ever since I wrote an eighth grade research paper on factory farming (and made several arguments to my mom), I have abstained from eating meat in all its forms - chicken, beef, pork, and fish.

That was half my life ago.

Recently, after doing some educational reading and TV watching (and a lot of soul-searching), I have been thinking more and more about eating fish once again. No longer do I object to eating meat because animals are killed in the process; I object to eating (most) meat because (most) animals are treated so poorly before they're killed. But fish are usually different, right? The fresh ones - the only one's I'd consider eating - happily swim around for their whole lives until *gasp!* they die from lack of water (or from being bashed in the head / boiled alive / etc.)

I think I'd like to try my first piece of fish on my birthday, February 3rd. My only hang-up is that I couldn't technically call myself a vegetarian anymore. Pretty stupid.

Thoughts? Opinions?

Stress, or a Lack Thereof

I am leaving out names and details to protect the innocent.

This doesn't really have anything to do with running, but it's been on my mind when I run (does that count?)

I recently was reprimanded for not appearing to be stressed-out. Really. I was told that even though I hadn't done anything wrong, and in fact had done everything right, I still should have appeared to be stressed to satisfy the parties involved.

If I hadn't stifled my immediate reaction I would have asked the those parties, "What is the worst thing that ever happened to you? Was it a missed deadline? Did you lose a pet when you were a little kid? Did your high school girl/boyfriend break up with you?"

Perspective. When you experience many terrible, trying, life-changing things, your perspective tends to be different. Something that seems like a big deal to people who haven't experienced profoundly sad situations will not seem like a big deal to people who have because the latter group knows what real hurt and fear feels like.

This sort of a perspective is a blessing caused by a curse. A crude personal illustration: My dog threw up the other day. It was running, smelly, and voluminous. But because I watched my father die steadily for two years by the time I was 10 years old, I experienced the dog throw-up as something icky but minor. She didn't mean to do it, so I cleaned it up, gave her a pat on the head, and went on with my day.

Stress, with the exception of some pretty rare occasions (i.e muggings, car accidents, illnesses and deaths, etc.), is also a choice. While we can't control every situation, we can control every reaction to almost every situation. The beauty of this is that we don't even have to be one of the blessed/cursed folks who have experienced bad shit to control our stress levels. We can have had perfect lives and still choose not to be stressed-out.

Something funny I've noticed about stress is that showing it openly, like a prize, seems to be a product of the mundane. People who really experience stress in their jobs - ER doctors, pilots, firefighters, etc. - are experts at remaining calm under pressure. Those of us who work mundane jobs, watch mundane TV, and do as we're told are the ones who show stress the most. What's up with that?

I have made the decision not to be stressed except in those very rare circumstances I listed above. While I might get in trouble for it, I'm not going to compromise my mental state. So there!

Oh, and running helps.

Do You Need a Spot?

I hopped on a treadmill last week for a quick 10-minute warm-up. The barrel chested man power walking two treadmills over said, "You better not come over here unless you're prepared to do the work for me." We continued to banter awkwardly about having to work out when our family members didn't, and he ended the conversation saying, "But we fat people have to go to the gym." Nice...

We met up once again in the free weight room. Mr. Bodybuilder was on the Smith Machine grunting away while doing some sort of upper body work while I was happily listening to Brent Dennen doing squats next door. "Why do you do them backwards?" Apparently I was facing a different direction than you were "supposed" to (whatever - squats are squats), so he took that as an opportunity to tell me I should do more reps. And yes, ladies and gentlemen, he offered to spot me through my next set. And on the bench press.

While a part of me was weirded out, the other, more athletic part was saying, "But you just did more reps then ever before." Then the other part countered with, "Yes, but you are sore as a mothafucka." True that.

Since our encounter last week, Mr. Bodybuilder and I have seen each other again. I've steered clear of him, but I also smiled on the inside when he said on Saturday, "Watch out guys - the queen bee is here."

Living Deliberately

In the spirit of Thanksgiving...

This is a great period of evolution for me, or perhaps I am just more self-aware. My world view has been changing, my stress-level decreasing, my emotional and physical health improving. Things that were once mundane now give me reason to celebrate, i.e. making dinner or riding my bike to work. (Those things haven't changed. I have.)

One small change I've made has been a decision to savor everything I eat. No more mindless eating, only that which is mindful. The benefits of this seem to be fourfold (at least): I eat slower, I eat only when I'm truly hungry, I eat only foods I want to savor, and I enjoy the whole process. If only I didn't have to keep reminding myself...but I guess that makes me even more mindful!

Barbara Kingsolver writes in Animal, Vegetable, Miracle that we as a nation lack a food culture. Now I am beginning to create my own, developing it with my favorite people. This blog will thus continue to follow my running life while scooping up a little from my eating life - a natural transition.

The words that keep arising in my consciousness are "living deliberately", but I couldn't remember where I'd heard them. Enter: Google. Ah ha! It's Thoreau (duh):

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion. -- Walden; or, "Life in the Woods --Where I Lived, and What I Lived For"

Excuses, Excuses...

We don't have the Internet at home, and I've been doing "work" at work lately, so I've neglected to post anything on the ol' blog. A big "I'm sorry" to the two or three people who actually read it.

Next weekend is the Outer Banks Marathon followed by the Richmond Marathon on the fifteenth. The old Molly would be longing to participate in one, beating herself up for "taking it too easy" or not "committing to a goal". The new Molly, however, is enjoying "taking it too easy", which in my case means still working out six days a week. Now I'm just doing it for the fun of it, varying my workouts and sports, and listening to my body. It's taken me 24+ years to learn how to relax, and I'm not quite there, but at least I'm making progress.

The other big news is that it's Election Day, and while this doesn't mean a lot for the running part of my life directly, one could argue that the future president will have an indirect effect on all of our workouts. For example, a better energy policy (better = greener) means cleaner air and water, two essentials for athletes. Also, ending the wars abroad means having more money to spend improving infrastructure at home. Better roads, sidewalks, and bike trails lead to a more pleasant running experience.

Go Obama!

Sore Butt

In my attempts to broaden my exercise regimen, I have been using the weight room at the Y to do heavier lifting than I had done at home during my ultra training. Thanks to my oldest brother's friend, who acted as my pro bono personal trainer during my college summers, I have good technique. BUT I keep making myself incredibly sore.

I lifted on Monday, ran an hour on Tuesday, and swam for 40 minutes this morning (with bicycle commuting thrown in). This isn't an unusual schedule for me, but today I'm walking stiff-legged around the office, massaging my left butt cheek.

I don't think I'm over-doing it at the time. I'll feel great doing my 3 or 4 sets of 5 reps (and I'm not reaching my max), then the next day I'll be all achy. What the hell's my problem? Is this just another example of my perfectionism come to fruition? Ahhh!