Fumbling Towards Fitness

the trials, victories, and musings of a documented slow poke

My own personal gag reel March 26, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Lorna @ fumblingtowardsfitness.com @ 4:06 pm
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Turns out, posting on my work days is going to be HARD. Time is just so tight.  Also, I left my laptop at home, which was a huge part of it.  When I was leaving the house Thursday, with my bag and four days worth of groceries, honestly, I couldn’t fit through the front door.  I was running late, and in frustration ditched it.  Hence my silence (just in case anyone missed input from this bastion of useless information), and why I’m forced to play catch-up today.

That “little” rain that I mentioned in the last post ended up being an all-out thunder and lightening filled, three day soakfest.  So Thursday was another one-miler in the rain, making three in a row now glaring at me from my weekly log.  I had this super secret goal of 25 miles for the week, but by Thursday, that was wadded up in a tissue and flushed.  I reckon some weeks are like that.

The storms finally abated late Friday morning, but left us this (at our little crash pad near work):

And this:

And from our walk from remote parking up to our building (we have a fenced off little walkway through a construction site):

  

There is a shuttle that we can take, but we always like to walk.  Here’s where it got a little tricky (I promise we don’t work in a third world country):

Here’s Pilley, my dear friend/work day roommate.  She obligingly runs with me on work nights just for kicks (and never feels accomplished for it).  She was smart enough to bring flippies.

 Well the wonderful news is that by noon the sun was 1000% back on the clock so we were able to snag three miles at lunch, and probably a little skin cancer (wasn’t even thinking about sunscreen – burn!).

  It was hot, sweaty, gloriousness, and I was never so grateful for a run!

We’ve been having Jillian yoga night at least once a week, as I’m trying to be more well-rounded in my cross-training.  This one came to me highly recommended by Lacey (she is not really a therapist).  From what I’ve read, the yoga-types sneer at Jillian’s irreverent, less-than-yogaish style, but it works for me.  The great thing about DVD yoga is that it isn’t in a public or group setting, where I have exactly zero business practicing it.  I inevitably start getting off balance, which gets me tickled, which makes balance even more elusive, which then makes me even more giggly, and things just quickly deteriorate into a spectacle of desperate, barely effective restraint.  The rest of the room – calm, even, focused, meditative energy.  My little corner of the room – frizzed with choked off laughter, runny nose, and chaos.  I used to hit up a Les Mills Body Flow class at least once a week, back in the day, at which my fecklessly contained mirth regularly earned me looks from Anya, the thong-wearing (she was always in front of me and it stuck out of the top of her pants!), Russian yoga prodigy that said, “If I had a dog poo pie handy, I’d plant it right in your face.”  I tried very hard to be the very picture of composure, but of course she was abnormally attuned to energies and therefore unable to be deceived.  Then there was my difficulty with concepts such as “drawing the breath to <insert body part>.”  I’m pretty sure I don’t know how to do that.  (No disrespect intended to those of  you with a real heart and feel for this art.)

Anyway, yoga at home – yes!  (Especially one that includes the phrase “Who’s your daddy!”)  Even with barely discernible amounts of namaste within me, I’m definitely benefiting.  There’s a move called “camel pose”, for instance, which requires your body to bend backwards in a way that mine simply does not, except now it does a little bit.  Okay, that’s not impressing you.  Well I am really feeling good and much stronger as I do it, and feel like I’m looking a lot less like Matt Foley, Motivational Speaker

and maybe more like hmm…I Love Lucy.

Add Pilley, and she’ll have to be Ethel only because she’s so much less afflicted than me, and often gives the appearance of “having it together”.  By the way, I now have rug burn on the bottoms of my feet, having involuntarily slid into some deeper split-type situations than I was comfortable with.  Next week, I’ll try (to remember to try) my durn little, grippy yoga socks.

I should mention Jillian’s ab DVD which we also did after one of the little sad one-milers.  Jillian is my away-from-home workout because she’s portable.  The ab one is actually a bunch of cardio.  And it’s good!  So I wasn’t a total slacker while it rained.  We got three more miles Saturday, which finished off my running week around 15.  Still okay, and the little streak lives.

In keeping with the theme of utterly valueless information here, I was remembering having a crazy March in years past, and being warned by a friend, “Beware the Ides of March”.  Technically, it was one bad day for Julius Caesar, but I don’t know, I think it could be the entire month for me.  Whatever “Ides” are, they’ve really been giving me the business.  I’ve been extra ridiculously defective.  Enough that you could do a whole movie montage, set to the tune of “Tiny Toon Adventures” of all my trip-ups, head-slaps, scratch-outs, expletives, forgetfulness, bumps, falls, slams, bruises, bitten lip, etc.  Today, I got stabbed with a spear.  A spear!  Alright, it was a very (very) dull spear, and the part of my body that ran into it was particularly cushioned, specifically my gut.  But it did give me pause.  Anyway, I can smilingly say that it’s been an Alexander kind of week, if not month.

If you don’t own this book, I insist that you immediately get yourself a copy.  It is perfection as hilarity goes and it makes EVERYTHING better.  (And so what if it’s a children’s book.  You need it!)  My mom gave me this back when all the kids displaying great potential were given Oh, The Places You’ll Go!  Anyway, one day in particular, this week, went to industrial grade crap – one of those that makes you want to disappear and enter a mutually forgetful relationship with the world.  This is important only in that it serendipitously brought to mind some words that I really needed:  indomitable spirit.  When I practiced Tae kwon do years ago, we had to recite the tenets of Tae kwon do at the beginning of each class:  courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, and this one, indomitable spirit.  I’d easily join the fan club of every one of those, but this one in particular, I always had a monster crush on.  Even the definition of indomitable is poetry:  “impossible to subdue or defeat” (Google); “incapable of being dominated” (Dictionary.com).  Now that’s just pretty.  I’d like to have about a hunderd 55 gallon drums full of that.  I could easily come up with 20 relevant applications for indomitable spirit in my daily life, right now, and especially where my fitness is concerned.  It’s something I hope to cultivate more of, this crazy month and forever after.

What are you working on?

Lorna

 

Unexpectedly fragile… March 22, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Lorna @ fumblingtowardsfitness.com @ 4:39 am
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It’s late and I won’t be much of writer, and it’s all a bunch of shenanigans anyway, but if you feel like hearing about it…

Every part of my day today seemed to scheming to kill my poor little streak.

The plan was to work a long run in during my lunch break since I needed to come home tonight.  A quick little background:  I work 90 miles from my home.  Because of this, a couple of coworkers and I keep an apartment near work where we stay three or four nights a week.  We work long days – about  12 hours – so it rarely makes sense to drive all the way home for a few hours, just to come right back  before dawn.  But I planned to be home tonight and I really didn’t want to delay my departure  after work this time.  Usually, I go for a minimal one or two miles on going home nights, once I get off,  just to keep the streak while saving precious time.

As soon as I left the parking lot, this unbelievable storm got to cooking.  I creeped my car through opaque sheets of rain  to the park, stupidly hoping it wasn’t pouring there, haha.  Good Lord.  It was one of those storms that was settling in for a while, too.  Not a passing one.  Crappit, I should have checked the weather!!  I called a nearby gym to see if they charge a day rate, figuring I’d use a treadmill, worst case.  The lady was sweet and told me they absolutely do but, “Darling, don’t you come over here.  The street and parking lot’s flooded.  I understand what you need but it just isn’t worth it.”  CRAP!

I wasted over an hour, tooting around in the downpour, and time was running out so I had to head on back.  But I was feeling a little panicked.  There’s people that have done this for decades.  I can’t be the imbecile that somehow lets a little rain kill my streak after only two weeks.  No!  Well, to be honest, this is the worst storm we’ve had since maybe The storm, but so what?  It’s gonna happen.  My mind was whirring and getting a little freaked out while I tried to figure out what to do.  I checked the weather and it said 100% chance of rain through the next day.  I could run in the rain, but then I’d have wet sneaks for the next day’s running too.  Shoot.

So I pull into the parking garage at work and find a spot on a less populated floor.  And then I realize…parking garage!!  I drove a lap around the floor and found it was exactly a third of a mile.  I’ll just run my looney toons looking behind three times  around the parking garage when I get off.

Great plan, except the GPS doesn’t like it in there and I was adamant that I wanted a full mile, not a cheater.  (I wanna be honest…don’t judge!)  Eight crazy hours later, having forgotten to eat or drink anything, I found a break in the rain and went to the top deck where I could get a signal.  Knocked out the mile as quickly as I could, passing two security guards and playing like “well duh, of course I’m running laps around the parking garage in an escalating rain at night (yeah, it was cranking back up).  Everybody does.  Hello!” And made it to the car just in time as the sky came unglued again.  And I had a asthma attack.  Stupid.  I forgot my inhaler in this whole silly streak drama.  And then I drove my wheezy self 90 miles home in this crazy storm, on top of the world, having just barely saved this unexpectedly fragile little streak.

Snap.  Guess I need to check the weather.  But now I’ve got a precisely measured Plan B.  Woo!

Now what about you?