Bored with your workouts lately? Need something to liven them up? I get that feeling often. We tend to get into pretty mundane routines, running the same routes at the same times, often crossing paths with the same people. It's even worse at the gym. On the treadmill or spin bike, we look at the same scenery for hours upon hours. Something's gotta give or we're going to throw in the towel.
My solution to this problem is to start getting a bit creative. Not just creative, but almost a little crazy. When it comes to working out, there are a couple types of crazy. I saw a woman on the elliptical yesterday whose panty lines clearly revealed that she was wearing thong underwear under her yoga pants. Ignorant Crazy. There is the girl who is clearly anorexic, works out for hours, and then sprays herself with bronzer in the locker room until it is foggy in there. Sad Crazy. What about the men who spend more time walking around and tightening their gloves than they do actually lifting weights? Crazy Dorks. In short, these guys can all be called "BAD CRAZY".
I'm talking about a different crazy, a good kind. There is a woman who swims at the 20th Avenue YMCA. She's not a small woman but she is a damn good swimmer. Her flip turns are acrobatic and she glides through the water without a ripple. We call her the "The Black Dart" referring the to color of her swimsuit and the precision of her stroke. The Black Dart is good crazy.
I like to say that I am FUN Crazy. Here's how I do it. I like to get my legs going as fast as I can sustain for about 20-30 minutes on the spin bike. Thanks to a really great spin teacher, I can go pretty fast. Once I'm in my rhythm, I start getting a crazy look in my eyes. At times, I'll plaster a smile on my face or shake my head as if I'm responding to something that no one else can hear. Other times, I'll put a really intense look on my face, like I am taking myself way too seriously. I notice that people look at me kind of strange and I like to think that they are admiring how fast I am going on the bike. Usually by this point, there is a good pool of sweat on the floor that has dripped off my chin.
Sound kind of crazy? Of course it does. The best part is that I literally enjoy every second of this foolish behavior, making a routine, boring workout way more fun! I actually usually get a better ride this way because I must really keep up the speed in order to pull the whole act off.
The other thing I love is to craft choreography routines to the songs I listen to the most. Think I look crazy on the spin bike? You should see me on the treadmill. I actually subdue it a bit at the Y but in my basement, it is a serious show. I know it's good when I am laughing out loud at myself.
The fact of the matter is that if you are going to commit yourself to fitness, it needs to be for life. Anything that you do for your whole life is bound to get boring now and then. It is up to you to find ways to keep yourself interested and liven things up a bit. Getting a little bit (good) crazy makes you feel confident and allows you to have fun.
So get a little crazy this week. Let me know how it goes. I'm always looking for ways to improve my act.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
What Are You Afraid Of?
It's Sunday again, isn't it? I had such a busy weekend and am struggling to put together any string of thoughts that makes sense, can make you laugh, or inspire. This must be what real writers refer to as writer's block. Maybe the real writers also blow the dust off their keyboards to kill time while they "think" about what to write. I wonder how long they stare in space, or how many times they start a sentence and delete it. I'm up to 17.
How do I share the details of a weekend with so many twists and turns? I started out by chaperoning the 2nd grade field trip to the Ledgeview Caves on Friday. It didn't rain. But I was bundled up with warmer clothes than I would wear on a ski trip in January. Well, I don't actually ski but I can't imagine I would need to wear that many layers. I got filthy with mud but it was all worth it for a first time experience of crawling through tunnels into large caves and seeing the wonder on the second graders faces as they looked around the giant underground spaces.
But wait, not all of them were filled with wonder. What was that? Some of them appeared to be filled with some other emotion, one that closely resembled fear. Yes, that's what it was alright. Some of those kids were scared to death to descend the ladder into the caves or crawl through the tunnels that would take them on the next leg of the tour. The thing that upset me the most is that all of the scared kids were girls. And a couple of them actually said to me, "I'm scared because I can't do stuff like this."
OK. Does that hit a sore spot or what? I looked into the eyes of those scared little girls and I saw myself. At age 8, up to bat for little league and scared to death that I would strike out because I wasn't good at stuff like that. At age 15, faking illness in gym class to get out of the basketball unit because I couldn't do stuff like that. And at age 25, getting fat on the couch because I wasn't good at anything. With the help of some amazing group leaders, each of those scared little girls completed all of the challenges of the day, sometimes shaking like a leaf.
If there is anything in life I regret, it's not standing up to those fears. I'm so glad those little girls did it. They were so proud of themselves. At the end of the tour I told them they when they are 35 years old, they will be very happy that they crawled through those tunnels. I'm sure they thought I was nuts, like that old age of 35 was light years away, but I guarantee that I'm right.
I know that a lot of you have similar fears. I've seen it in your comments or in the private messages you send me. I've heard some of you say it, "I could never do that", whatever it may be. But something wonderful is happening. Some of you are facing your fears too. On Saturday, I had the pleasure of seeing you cross the finish line of your first 5K or half marathon. Others met personal goals. Admit it, you were afraid before you started, nervous that the goal might not be met. But the looks on your faces at the end of the race were absolutely priceless to me. I bet when you are 65, you will look back and say "I'm so glad I did that."
If you saw me right now, I might have a look of fear in my eyes. I'm afraid I can't keep writing this blog each week, that I can't entertain you much longer and that I'll never find success as a writer. But this current bout of writer's block is not going to stop me. Even if this is the best I ever do, I know I will look back someday and be glad I kept this blog and shared it with you.
Contemplate your fears and start to take them on. No matter what age you are now or live to be, you will never regret it.
How do I share the details of a weekend with so many twists and turns? I started out by chaperoning the 2nd grade field trip to the Ledgeview Caves on Friday. It didn't rain. But I was bundled up with warmer clothes than I would wear on a ski trip in January. Well, I don't actually ski but I can't imagine I would need to wear that many layers. I got filthy with mud but it was all worth it for a first time experience of crawling through tunnels into large caves and seeing the wonder on the second graders faces as they looked around the giant underground spaces.
But wait, not all of them were filled with wonder. What was that? Some of them appeared to be filled with some other emotion, one that closely resembled fear. Yes, that's what it was alright. Some of those kids were scared to death to descend the ladder into the caves or crawl through the tunnels that would take them on the next leg of the tour. The thing that upset me the most is that all of the scared kids were girls. And a couple of them actually said to me, "I'm scared because I can't do stuff like this."
OK. Does that hit a sore spot or what? I looked into the eyes of those scared little girls and I saw myself. At age 8, up to bat for little league and scared to death that I would strike out because I wasn't good at stuff like that. At age 15, faking illness in gym class to get out of the basketball unit because I couldn't do stuff like that. And at age 25, getting fat on the couch because I wasn't good at anything. With the help of some amazing group leaders, each of those scared little girls completed all of the challenges of the day, sometimes shaking like a leaf.
If there is anything in life I regret, it's not standing up to those fears. I'm so glad those little girls did it. They were so proud of themselves. At the end of the tour I told them they when they are 35 years old, they will be very happy that they crawled through those tunnels. I'm sure they thought I was nuts, like that old age of 35 was light years away, but I guarantee that I'm right.
I know that a lot of you have similar fears. I've seen it in your comments or in the private messages you send me. I've heard some of you say it, "I could never do that", whatever it may be. But something wonderful is happening. Some of you are facing your fears too. On Saturday, I had the pleasure of seeing you cross the finish line of your first 5K or half marathon. Others met personal goals. Admit it, you were afraid before you started, nervous that the goal might not be met. But the looks on your faces at the end of the race were absolutely priceless to me. I bet when you are 65, you will look back and say "I'm so glad I did that."
If you saw me right now, I might have a look of fear in my eyes. I'm afraid I can't keep writing this blog each week, that I can't entertain you much longer and that I'll never find success as a writer. But this current bout of writer's block is not going to stop me. Even if this is the best I ever do, I know I will look back someday and be glad I kept this blog and shared it with you.
Contemplate your fears and start to take them on. No matter what age you are now or live to be, you will never regret it.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
More Hills Coach
My husband loves to tell this story from high school football when the coach would have the guys run hills and then make them beg for more. Apparently the team literally had to say, "More Hills Coach" before starting up again. I find this oddly funny and have to wonder if it helped anything to tire these guys out on hills when their 1989-1993 record was 5-21. Perhaps, coach, less hills would have been a better option.
Yet, as I grow as a runner, I am learning that hill repeats are a common and recommended drill for improving speed and endurance. After avoiding this portion of training for two years, I decided it was time to suck it up and start taking this advice seriously. Really, when you consider hills, the metaphor to life is almost so obvious it's cheesy. I mean, Miley Cyrus actually has a song about it. Of course you Miley fans already know, it's not what's waiting on the other side, it's the climb, right? Uh-huh.
Like many of you, I have a few favorite routes that I use for my workouts. For years now, I have been walking up the Thorn Street Hill, also known as the "college hill" where every Ripon child has had the pleasure of sledding down at full speed only to get a solid spray of snow to the face at the bottom. The very brave would start at the top, near the dorms where there is a double jump, guaranteed to give supreme air and a possible tailbone fracture if the snow is packed too hard.
I have loathed that hill but forced myself to walk up it hundreds of times. I never dared to allow myself to think I could ever run up that sucker, until two years ago. Riding high on the success and cockiness of a completed quarter marathon, I entered the Ripon Doug Lyke Memorial 5k. My sister and I looked around at the competition, hoping to see some folks we thought we could beat. The whole high school cross country team was there. And a 55 year old man in a camoflage sweatband. We were in trouble.
The route included the college hill and I felt ready. I had something to prove, running with my sister for the first time in our lives, and my goal was to finish without walking, hill and all. We didn't make it. We started out too fast, trying to keep pace with the high schoolers at first and then just trying not to make total fools of ourselves. We had to stop half way up the hill and walk. My disappointment was only hidden by the near death experience of the actual attempt to run up the hill. They held that race twice that summer. I put off entering the second time until the night of the race, then entered just for fun, and walked up the stupid hill once again.
It's been my nemesis for almost two years. I run miles and miles but never up that hill. I walk up to the top or avoid it all together. But in the back of my mind, I have always known that I must conquer it. I spent the whole winter in preparation, running incline intervals on my treadmill until I nearly fell off. And when I tackled that hill a few weeks ago, I ran up it as if it was a flat country road, feeling like I won a million dollars at the top.
But that's not enough. Oh no. Things have to get a little crazy now. Perhaps the hill is taunting me. Perhaps it is daring me to try again. "You can't do it twice", it shouts from across town. And that's when this hill gets symbolic of all the things I thought I couldn't do. I laced up my running shoes (still New Balance by the way), and cranked up my ipod (still Flo Rida by the way). I headed over to the hill with a bit of swagger, refusing to let even a gusting wind stand in my way.
The first time up the hill, I thought of 2008, when I walked and walked, taking on that hill at a snail's pace. I passed the college boys soccer team and remembered when my roommates and I at Marian College would roller blade past soccer practice and hope to be noticed. It felt good. Round 2: This one was for 2009, twice trying and failing to run up that damned hill. I had to ask the soccer boys to move over as I ran past them. But that's not enough. Third time up the hill was for my shopping trip yesterday. I got jeans two sizes smaller than I wore last fall and I better make it up this hill again if I think I'm going to keep wearing them. But, hell no, that's not enough! One more time, FOUR TIMES, running up that hill, just to prove I could. Just to show those college kids I still have something in me. One of the boys even waved at me the fourth time around. I dared him to join me and I think I frightened him.
So when the doubt creeps into my mind, as it surely will continue to do from time to time, the only thing I can do to prove to myself how far I've come is to scream in my own ears "MORE HILLS COACH". And this time I get it. The hill has made me stronger, given me confidence, and taught me that there will always be bigger and better challenges ahead of me.
Find your own hill. I don't care how tall it is. I don't care if you have to walk or crawl up it. I just want you to take it on. It's going to hurt. You will hate it, and me for that matter. But don't let that stop you. Someday, you will run up that hill four times and you can shout out to all the soccer boys in the land. And it won't even matter if they aren't there to hear you. YOU will be there and that is all that really matters.
Yet, as I grow as a runner, I am learning that hill repeats are a common and recommended drill for improving speed and endurance. After avoiding this portion of training for two years, I decided it was time to suck it up and start taking this advice seriously. Really, when you consider hills, the metaphor to life is almost so obvious it's cheesy. I mean, Miley Cyrus actually has a song about it. Of course you Miley fans already know, it's not what's waiting on the other side, it's the climb, right? Uh-huh.
Like many of you, I have a few favorite routes that I use for my workouts. For years now, I have been walking up the Thorn Street Hill, also known as the "college hill" where every Ripon child has had the pleasure of sledding down at full speed only to get a solid spray of snow to the face at the bottom. The very brave would start at the top, near the dorms where there is a double jump, guaranteed to give supreme air and a possible tailbone fracture if the snow is packed too hard.
I have loathed that hill but forced myself to walk up it hundreds of times. I never dared to allow myself to think I could ever run up that sucker, until two years ago. Riding high on the success and cockiness of a completed quarter marathon, I entered the Ripon Doug Lyke Memorial 5k. My sister and I looked around at the competition, hoping to see some folks we thought we could beat. The whole high school cross country team was there. And a 55 year old man in a camoflage sweatband. We were in trouble.
The route included the college hill and I felt ready. I had something to prove, running with my sister for the first time in our lives, and my goal was to finish without walking, hill and all. We didn't make it. We started out too fast, trying to keep pace with the high schoolers at first and then just trying not to make total fools of ourselves. We had to stop half way up the hill and walk. My disappointment was only hidden by the near death experience of the actual attempt to run up the hill. They held that race twice that summer. I put off entering the second time until the night of the race, then entered just for fun, and walked up the stupid hill once again.
It's been my nemesis for almost two years. I run miles and miles but never up that hill. I walk up to the top or avoid it all together. But in the back of my mind, I have always known that I must conquer it. I spent the whole winter in preparation, running incline intervals on my treadmill until I nearly fell off. And when I tackled that hill a few weeks ago, I ran up it as if it was a flat country road, feeling like I won a million dollars at the top.
But that's not enough. Oh no. Things have to get a little crazy now. Perhaps the hill is taunting me. Perhaps it is daring me to try again. "You can't do it twice", it shouts from across town. And that's when this hill gets symbolic of all the things I thought I couldn't do. I laced up my running shoes (still New Balance by the way), and cranked up my ipod (still Flo Rida by the way). I headed over to the hill with a bit of swagger, refusing to let even a gusting wind stand in my way.
The first time up the hill, I thought of 2008, when I walked and walked, taking on that hill at a snail's pace. I passed the college boys soccer team and remembered when my roommates and I at Marian College would roller blade past soccer practice and hope to be noticed. It felt good. Round 2: This one was for 2009, twice trying and failing to run up that damned hill. I had to ask the soccer boys to move over as I ran past them. But that's not enough. Third time up the hill was for my shopping trip yesterday. I got jeans two sizes smaller than I wore last fall and I better make it up this hill again if I think I'm going to keep wearing them. But, hell no, that's not enough! One more time, FOUR TIMES, running up that hill, just to prove I could. Just to show those college kids I still have something in me. One of the boys even waved at me the fourth time around. I dared him to join me and I think I frightened him.
So when the doubt creeps into my mind, as it surely will continue to do from time to time, the only thing I can do to prove to myself how far I've come is to scream in my own ears "MORE HILLS COACH". And this time I get it. The hill has made me stronger, given me confidence, and taught me that there will always be bigger and better challenges ahead of me.
Find your own hill. I don't care how tall it is. I don't care if you have to walk or crawl up it. I just want you to take it on. It's going to hurt. You will hate it, and me for that matter. But don't let that stop you. Someday, you will run up that hill four times and you can shout out to all the soccer boys in the land. And it won't even matter if they aren't there to hear you. YOU will be there and that is all that really matters.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
A Few of My Favorite Things
I have had a really tough week. It was the worst. Most days I was tired, made excuses for myself and didn't get anything done. I whined, I complained, I was a bitch to my husband. Everyone irritated me. I sucked as a mom, cook, nurse and everything else. I even sunk so low as to pull this old stunt while discussing my new bike. This is me talking to my husband, "Oh, sure. You just don't think I'm good enough to ride a bike this nice. I've never been good enough for you, have I? I suppose you think I'm too fat?" Why does my weight always get brought into these arguments? The worst part is that I really hate myself when I am like this.
So, it has been seven days and it's time for me to lay this week to rest. My plan to say goodbye to my horrible week and try to welcome in a more positive week is to tell you about things that I really love a lot. There is no rhyme or reason to this list. Just a bunch of goodness. So here goes.
Dogs: always there to please, fun to play with and snuggle. We have three dogs and our lives would not be the same without them. Although our house might be cleaner.
Asparagus: While there are many ways to prepare and eat this amazing veggie, my favorite is to drizzle it with olive oil, season with sea salt and fresh ground pepper and roast in the oven for about 15 minutes. I then proceed to eat the whole bunch. It is to die for. Warning: the smell of your urine may later kill you, so be careful.
Swimming: Minus the skin tight apparel, swimming makes me feel really good. As long as the pool isn't freezing.
Driving: This, on it's own, is a recreational activity. It can be very therapeutic. Although I guess maybe I shouldn't be letting my mind wander as much as I do. . . oops.
Shopping: Why does spending money have to feel so good? I wish I could be one of those people who says material things aren't important. I'm sorry. I'm not. I love material things. Especially shoes and jackets. And beauty products. Oh, and t-shirts. Purses too, well, all types of bags really.
Cured meats: This is a new thing, but I can't get enought pastrami, salami, prosciutto, pepperoni. Especially pastrami. By itself, on a sandwich, salad, pizza, cheese platter. Cured meat is truly a cure, for many things.
So that's my list. My dream day would be to take a good long swim, then drive for a while until I reach a killer shopping destination where I could lunch on pastrami and roasted asparagus all with the company of my sweet not-so-little pug in the passenger's seat. Just thinking of it makes me feel better than I have for the past week.
What's on your list?
So, it has been seven days and it's time for me to lay this week to rest. My plan to say goodbye to my horrible week and try to welcome in a more positive week is to tell you about things that I really love a lot. There is no rhyme or reason to this list. Just a bunch of goodness. So here goes.
Dogs: always there to please, fun to play with and snuggle. We have three dogs and our lives would not be the same without them. Although our house might be cleaner.
Asparagus: While there are many ways to prepare and eat this amazing veggie, my favorite is to drizzle it with olive oil, season with sea salt and fresh ground pepper and roast in the oven for about 15 minutes. I then proceed to eat the whole bunch. It is to die for. Warning: the smell of your urine may later kill you, so be careful.
Swimming: Minus the skin tight apparel, swimming makes me feel really good. As long as the pool isn't freezing.
Driving: This, on it's own, is a recreational activity. It can be very therapeutic. Although I guess maybe I shouldn't be letting my mind wander as much as I do. . . oops.
Shopping: Why does spending money have to feel so good? I wish I could be one of those people who says material things aren't important. I'm sorry. I'm not. I love material things. Especially shoes and jackets. And beauty products. Oh, and t-shirts. Purses too, well, all types of bags really.
Cured meats: This is a new thing, but I can't get enought pastrami, salami, prosciutto, pepperoni. Especially pastrami. By itself, on a sandwich, salad, pizza, cheese platter. Cured meat is truly a cure, for many things.
So that's my list. My dream day would be to take a good long swim, then drive for a while until I reach a killer shopping destination where I could lunch on pastrami and roasted asparagus all with the company of my sweet not-so-little pug in the passenger's seat. Just thinking of it makes me feel better than I have for the past week.
What's on your list?
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