Backwards

I was at a spin class yesterday trying to salvage my failed training cycle leading up to my upcoming event. There are 42 days left before the Kona half iron and I think if I train six hours a day, seven days a week, it wouldn't be enough to get me to the starting line in decent shape. It's too late. I just haven't committed enough effort training for this event and it shows. Oh my yes, how it shows.

I run one long run a week and a couple shorter ones when I can fit them in. Two weeks ago, I ran nine miles on the weekend, then some short runs during the week. The nine mile run was as far as my knee would go. If you take a dull railroad spike and jamb it in between your kneecap and your knee joint over and over like Norman Bates, that it what my knee feels like when I run.

Last Sunday, I ran in the Seahawk 12k. It's a local event for some charity that I should know about, but I was too lazy to read the literature when I paid my thirty dollars. My knee didn't hurt as bad that day, which was a pleasant surprise, but I needed three days to recover, so it still sucked, but for a different reason.

When I did my short run two days ago, my calf cramped up and I limped the last half mile. I wanted to cry. It wasn't the pain that made me feel bad, it was the realization that I don't have enough time left before my event to repair this training farce.

Today I ran nine miles. Time wise, it was nine miles. If you want to be really picky and use a map or a gps running watch, it was seven. The first three miles are uphill. Its pretty steep. I think the guys who climb Everest use that hill for training so they can try out their ropes and ice axes and spikey cleats on their boots. I ran up it. Norman Bates showed up at mile five and started to pick and claw his way into my knee with his evil fang claws. I wanted to cry but it hurt too much so I limped home. 

I had my dog with me on the run, which is great, because all the hot girl runners want to stop and pet the dog and then of course they ask me what my sign is and if I am single.   Honestly, it gets old.

Anywho, have you ever seen sharkweek on the discovery channel? Ten sharks are cruising around, minding their shark business when one of them pulls up lame and the others eat it. That's just how they deal with the weak link. So I am running with my dog and I start to limp because my knee hurt. The dog looked at me and growled and some drool slid down his lips. I think he saw me as the weakest link and thought he should tryout for a guest appearance on sharkweek.

It seems like I am slipping backwards. My swim is a little better than it was last year, my bike is a little worse, my run is a lot worse, if that is possible. I think my biggest problem is motivation. I am motivated to not run.  And I am afraid of my own dog.

Other than that, everything is peachy.

Gearheads

Last weekend I ran seven miles with my trusty running partner Tuggerdog. I felt great, my knee pain was only a three on the ten scale so I was pretty stoked. It had rained before my run, but the sky parted and the sun was shining on the dog and me as we splashed through the puddles and mud. We were running behind the lake on the trails through the woods which are the absolute world-wide best trails to run, honest. It just doesn't get any better than running behind the lake. Tuggerdog and I had a perfect run. It was glorious and for a brief time, I felt I had achieved oneness with the universe.

I was completely in touch with my less logical side at that moment and I thought that since I had become one with the universe, I should offer up an act of personal self-sacrifice. You had to be there, it made sense at the time. So, I decided that just this once, instead of making the dog follow me on the run, I would let my livestock running companion choose the route. He is a partner, not an indentured servant, right? Shouldn't the dog get to choose once in a while? Who am I to deny him his alpha dog status?

I stopped and stared at the dog, waiting for him to choose which direction to go. He stared back for a bit, scratched something, then he took off into the woods, jumping over the logs and weeds and rocks. I followed. From what I could make out, he thought he heard or saw or smelled a squirrel, then he was trying his best to catch it and eat it. I am not so sure there ever was a squirrel, but I wanted to support him in his quest, so I ended up running around and around the base of a tree with the dog chasing a non-existent squirrel. I got dizzy, then the dog lost interest and sat to scratch something. I scratched my personals. No longer one with the universe, I left him to fend for himself and ran home to eat some ice cream. Stupid dog. As far as I know, he's still out there trying snag a couple of squirrels for a snack.

I do the same thing the dog does when I train. I see a squirrel and I chase it. A friend says that if I run one mile repeats, I will get faster. So I do that. Then another friend says I should run long, slow distance, so I do that. Another friend says I need to run at least five days a week, so I do that. It's like the dog and the squirrel. I chase it, even if it's not there. I think the best training advice I ever heard was 'train with a purpose'. It makes sense. Don't just flog away at some B.S. workout regime that you heard about in the locker room. Decide on a plan and stick to it.

I received a Krupps coffee maker twenty nine years ago as a wedding gift. Some cheap relative bought it for me on closeout at the discount store. How do I know they bought it on closeout? Because I tried to take it back for cash to pay my gambling debt and the gal at the store said she couldn't take returns for discontinued items with a “absolutely no returns” sticker on the box I still remember that. Anyway, since I didn't have a re-gift opportunity on the horizon, I kept it.

When it was new I guess it worked OK, except that it has always leaked a bit of coffee on the counter when you poured into the cup, but no big deal, I was willing to put up with that. Then about five or ten years ago, the heating element started running at fifty percent power, so it didn't make hot coffee, it made room temp coffee. I was willing to put up with that. I just put the coffee cup with the tepid coffee, in the microwave and felt good about myself because I was being frugal. Then the lid broke. I don't need a lid. 

But about a month ago the plastic cover next to the on/off switch turned brown, then black, then melted through so you could see the wires inside that were frayed. My coffee smelled like a house fire. When I turned the thing on, 110 volts of pain shot through the switch into my arm. Enough is enough. I bought a new coffee maker last weekend and while I was looking at all the “absolutely no returns” stickers on the boxes at the discount store, it made me think that triathletes prioritize things oddly. Twenty nine years of crappy coffee maker is not a big deal, but if there is a upgrade for my bike, I am all over it. 

I put new matching green water bottle cages on my bike last year. The cages they replaced were gray. The new ones were green. See? I had to get the new cages. Do I care what they cost? No, I do not. It's my bike and I needed the upgrade. Triathletes are all gearheads.

A friend bought a new bike with electro-gizmo shifting. My bike shifts great, but the electro-gizmo thing seems like it should soon find it's way into my stable of tri-bikes. I am one with the universe and I am thinking that anybody who is one with the universe should have an electro-gizmo shifting bike.