This Sucks

What was a minor cold is now a raging sinus infection. I'm bone-tired from a) being sick and b) not being able to sleep because I can't breathe. Breathing is so much effort. I'm tired from breathing. My chest hurts from blowing my nose. I've done so many saline sinus rinses, there's water in my ears. Big yellow globs are coming out of my nose. I have zero energy and a low-grade fever. I can't taste or smell or even hear very well. Eating is a chore. I've lost 6 lbs. I'm completely miserable. There is nothing in my life right now that gives me pleasure. Including breathing out of my nose. So much for the marathon on Sunday. That I did all the training for. All of it. Except for Canada, that was my only other big race this year. Down the toilet.

Are You Kidding Me?

For serious. Is this some kind of a cruel joke?

After my hip scare, now I have a full-fledged cold. I'm past the achy, fever stage and into the congested, dripping stage. Ugh. Less than 5 days until my marathon.

On a side note, Alec split his tongue open by running into a picnic table at his birthday party this Saturday, and we spent the evening in the ER. After several stitches, he's up and at 'em again. Kids are so tough.

Brent fell off his bike Thursday. Right on his butt. Luckily, except for some road rash and bruises, he's okay (so is his bike). Then, he was putting stuff on shelves in the garage while standing on the top of a ladder. The shelves (installed by the previous owner) were anchored into drywall with plain, old screws. All the shelves and everything on them came crashing down, on top of Brent, causing him to fall off the ladder (and on his butt again). Somehow, miraculously, he's okay.

Maybe I should be glad all I have is a cold....

Update

Miracles of miracles. The hip is doing better. Unbelievably, it was the bike that healed it. I could barely walk Monday and Tuesday. It even hurt to swim. Finally got on the trainer Wed. night and when I got off, I was HEALED!!! Of course, it was probably because my Drs appt was the next day. He thinks it may have been some sort of muscle spasm/pinched nerve thing. So, I get to do a kind of ART on it (ouch!) and bike a lot (yea!). But, amazingly, it feels better and better each day (fingers crossed). I even jogged to the car (1/4 mile) yesterday and had NO PAIN!!! I think I can, I think I can......

Marathon (next weekend)....here I come...

Depressed...

My 20 mile run on Saturday was fantastic. I ran faster than ever before, even though I had to run up the inside of Torrey Pines. It was wonderful. I was victorious.

Afterwards, I was religious about stretching, taking my ice bath, and nap. Sunday, Alec and I went to cheer Brent on at the Encinitas Tri. Forgetting about my run the previous day, I took off running to follow Brent out of the water. Stabbing pain in my left hip stopped me short. Hmmm. Must just be sore from the day before. But it continued to ache as I walked. Soon I was limping. Stubbornly, I met my group for a 40-mile, hilly bike ride after the race, hoping my hip would loosen up. At mile 12, I pulled over and called it a day. I almost never do this. However, my hip hurt, I was tired, and in pain. Gutting through the bike ride simply was not going to help me. Only hurt me.

I went home and sulked the rest of the day. My hip hurt worse and worse and worse. Ibuprofen and ice didn't touch it. It felt like my hip was on fire. I couldn't even lie on my left side.

I rested my hip and walked as little as possible Monday and Tuesday. I got a sports massage. She thinks it's my gemellus muscle (hip abductor). She dug in until my knuckles were white. I think the muscle is really tight. I feel a twinging pain every time I push off/extend. I've been applying heat and using a tennis ball to help loosen it up. This seems to be helping.

Today, I tried swimming. Kicking was not fun. It hurt a lot the first 10 minutes and then got better and better. Walking is the same (hurts at first and then loosens up). Uphill feels great. Downhill is agony. Oddly enough, this is the same muscle I strained training for my very first half marathon over 6 years ago.

I have an appointment with the sports med doctor tomorrow morning. Please, please, please let it heal before Rock 'n Roll Marathon next weekend.

Harmful Effects of Antioxidant Supplements on Athletes?

As a scientist, one of my hobbies is to peruse the articles on exercise physiology. I came across one published this week in PNAS (http://www.pnas.org/) by Ristow et al, which I simply can't resist discussing.

I've always been a bit skeptical of "performance-enhancing" supplements. Afterall, they are not FDA-approved and oftentimes, very little is disclosed about what's in them. I don't like putting unknown, unproven things in my body. A lot of triathletes nowadays are scarfing antioxidant supplements because antioxidants are bad, right? Well, maybe, maybe not. Turns out, some are bad, whereas others may be good. Exercise is good for you (duh)--increases insulin sensitivity, metabolism, burns fat, promotes muscle anabolism (and all that goes along with that e.g. mitochonidria production). However, it is a well-known fact that exercise increases production of oxidants (free radicals) by MUSCLE. Hey, wait a minute, I thought free radicals were bad (they have been shown to damage cells and speed up the aging process)! Right? Right? A commonly-held belief amongst the masses were that these exercise-induced free radicals had negative effects on the body and delayed recovery. In response, the supplement fairies manufactured large gobs of "antioxidant supplements" (mainly enormous doses of oxidant-scavenging C and E vitamins).

In this study, insulin sensitivity, glucose metabolism and production of the body's natural antioxidants were measured in trained and untrained subjects taking either placebo or antioxidant supplement (C & E vitamins). Antioxidants supplementation was found to prevent the enhanced insulin sensitivity and boost in the body's oxidant defenses normally afforded by exercise. In addition, production of beneficial mediators of insulin sensitivity (PPAR-gamma and PGC-1) and antioxidant defense (superoxide dismutase and glutathione peroxidase) were inhibited (these are normally boosted in response to exercise).

Turns out that the free radicals produced in response to exercise may actually be used by the body to increase metabolism and enhance insulin sensitivity. So, sometimes free radicals are the good guys? Perhaps. At the very least, maybe we should think twice before popping the expensive supplements!


--Ristow et al (2009)

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/12/health/research/12exer.html?ref=research

http://www.forbes.com/feeds/hscout/2009/05/11/hscout626953.html

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/8043456.stm

http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/80beats/2009/05/12/surprising-study-put-down-the-vitamins-free-the-free-radicals/

Nighttime Running

I didn't fit my 7-mile mid-week run in before sunset yesterday. Depression ensued as hopes for a "perfect week" were dashed. The stony silence that accompanied me must have made for terrible dinner company. Poor Alec and Brent. Then, a brilliant idea flashed through my head. Why not run after dark? I live in a safe neighborhood. I have a headlamp. Of course! Brent hated the idea but I would hear none of his objections. After reading to Alec at bedtime, I headed out the door.

I selected main roads to run along since they were lined by sidewalks dimly lit with lampposts. Oddly enough, I had never run there before, maybe because the route seemed dull. By starlight, however, it was an exciting adventure. The cool, moist night air felt refreshing against my skin. I couldn't see my feet hitting the pavement below. I only felt the soft bobbing of each footfall; I felt strangely disembodied. The rhythm was soothing, and although my pace was faster than normal, it felt effortless. My thoughts drifted, my mind quieted and went still. "So this is what I'm supposed to do during the meditation phase at the end of Yoga....but it's always so much work in Yoga," I thought to myself.

My normal mindset is a blind rush of madness as thought after useless repetitive thought races through, exhausting the essence of my being. However, the effort I must take to quiet my mind and relieve my stress is so inordinate; it seems like so much work. I just exhaust myself. Nighttime running quieted my mind, body and soul so completely, it was like a gift had been bestowed upon me. Running soothes my mind normally anyway but at night, the effect was ten-fold. It was magical. Instead of thinking, analyzing, examining, I just observed. I became aware of my surroundings, how wonderful my body felt; I became fully present. The miles flew by at a breakneck speed as I lolled off in my reverie. I could have stayed there forever. I felt fully recharged when I returned home, infused with a mystical energy. Odd that to slow down my mind, I have to speed up my legs.

Random Thoughts During the 22K Xterra Malibu Creek Trail Run

http://www.trailrace.com/malibu.html

Pre-Race:

• Oh, God. My stomach hurts. Like I've swallowed a balloon and it's going to pop. Can I even do this?
• 2 Immodium, Tums, and Gas-X (each) later: My stomach STILL hurts. There's no way I can run, much less eat breakfast. They're going to have to helicopter me out on top of the mountain.
• At the race site: How can I do this on an empty stomach? Ugh. My stomach STILL hurts!!!

Race Start:

• Well, I'm running. My stomach hurts but it's not getting worse. But now I have to PEE!!!
• Everyone out here is SO fast! They all look like ultra marathoners or something. At least it's pretty.
• Fog, fog, fog. Everywhere I look, there's fog.
• I don't remember this hill on the course map! I thought the first 3 miles were flat. Hmmm.

The Mountain:

• (Miles 3-6): So this is what 2500 feet in 3 miles feel like. Because I've always wondered. Dammit, I have to PEE!!!
• Where is Brent going? I thought we were going to run together!
• (2 miles later after running up the whole godamn mountain): Yes! I'm going to catch up to him. I'm SO relieved. I can finally tell him how MAD I am at him!
• (Mile 5, after making up): It's so fun to run together! Look how beautiful it is! I wish we had brought a camera.
• (Mile 6, the top): The sun is out now. I miss the fog. I guess it burned off. Wait a minute. No, the fog is still there. It's just below us. We're above the clouds!
  
  

(Miles 6-8) Are We Going Down Yet?

• Where did this hill come from? I thought we were done with the ups! The ups are downs and the downs are ups. It's Bizarro Xterra!
• Do I need a rope to climb up this rock? Jeez...I'm on my hands and knees!
• This is more of a hike, not a run.
• Walking is nice. Do I have to run?
• An aid station! Thank God! Port-a-Potties, water, Cliff Bars, whoo-hoo! Time to eat breakfast (Oh, my stomach feels better!)

(Miles 8-10) The Horror of the Bees

• Downhill hurts my stomach. Ouch, ouch, ouch.
• In one of the few flat sections on the run, across a small meadow, the overwhelming sound of buzzing filled the air, vibrating in my ears. The ground was covered in black, shiny bees, so thickly, it looked like black lava. It was something out of a Stephen King novel. I squealed, shut my eyes and mouth and sprinted through as fast as I could. Apparently, I run much faster when terrified (anger is another good motivator).

(Miles 10-12) Down, down, down

• I thought uphill was bad! I wish I had an uphill NOW!
• OW!!! Will this downhill ever end?
• You got to be kidding me!
• Pain. Toes, quads, knees, stomach. All I feel is PAIN.
• Uphills=WORK. Downhills=PAIN. I want up.

(Miles 12-14) The FINISH!

• Ah, this must be the wicked final uphill I was warned about.
• It's HOT!!!
• I'm SO glad I'm going up and not down right now.
• I'm going to finish, I'm going to finish!
• Ah, the final 0.5 miles of a race. Pure and simple happiness. Nothing else like it.

On the other side of the finish line:

• That was some recovery run!

Conquering my Greatest Enemy: The Torrey Pines Hill

San Diego is riddled with so many hills, it’s borderline ridiculous. Biking is my weakness, and I had many bad rides after first moving here. Plus, the roads don’t go in straight lines and many deep canyons separate them, making exploring new routes without checking a map first somewhat risky. I learned very quickly to never leave home without a cell phone. There were several rides where I got hopelessly lost, bonked and had no hope of making it home, requiring the “call of shame” to a friend for a ride.

I hated hills, especially the dreadaed Torrey Pines hill, which I seemed to be confronted with on every ride, no matter where I went. Although only about 1.5 miles long and not especially steep, it got me every time. Sometimes, I just wanted an easy, flat recovery ride, and my arch nemesis would raise her ugly head at the end of ride to punish my tired legs, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. I cursed her but that only made her angry. I fought the battle every time, my legs screaming in pain, my lungs burning, my cadence agonizingly slow as I struggled. To make matters worse, other cyclists flew past me effortlessly as I toiled in agony. I was shamed and humiliated, brought to my knees by a little hill. I complained about it to my non-cyclist friend from L.A., who callously commented, “It doesn’t seem that bad,” as we drove up it on the way home from the beach one evening, my ears popping on the way up in the car. I fought the urge to tie her to my bike, drop her off at the bottom, wave goodbye, and say, “See you at the top”.

Over time, the hill became mentally less challenging. Being confronted with it on a daily basis like the playground bully stealing your lunch money, took the mystique out of my fearsome enemy, who seemed to be actually shrinking. She seemed smaller somehow. Panic didn’t well within me, and I no longer tensed as I approached the bottom. I had reached a stage of acceptance; I was going to be confronted with this bully of a hill on every ride so I might as well get over my fear of riding up it and just get up it and over with already.

After that, we made a truce. Now, the Torrey Pines hill and I are friends. I go up and down her repeatedly. I even do the inside road, by the park because it’s steeper (and offers spectacular views of the ocean). I eagerly look forward to the pain and suffering of going up the hill as fast and hard as I can; I know it will make me stronger in the long run. Now when I climb, I look forward to the shift in my inner focus. There is no room for other random thoughts. I have to focus. I focus on my breathing, my cadence, staying relaxed, maintaining an even pedal stroke. My mind is occupied with only the here and now. There is nothing else, only the hill and me. Nothing else matters but reaching the top. My legs pump like pistons as the bike crawls upwards slowly; I alternate between seated and standing. Upon reaching the top, I am rewarded with an expansive view of the Pacific, so breathtaking it’s almost obsence. The sun’s rays play with the surface of the rippling ocean, littering it with a million twinkling jewels. I love doing the hill repeats in the evening so I can catch the spectacular melting of the fiery sun into the cool, blue waters. I gape in awe and have almost crashed several times with other cyclists mesmerized by the enchanting sight, who have equally forgotten to look where they are going.

Who is your arch nemesis, and have you made friends with her yet?

What's your time?

I hate when people ask how fast you are. Why do they think this is okay? It's like asking someone's salary. Very tacky. If I talk about a great track workout I had or a great race I had, and I don't mention my time, don't ask me! I consider it private. Even if I won, I would have the same opinion. My speed (or lack thereof) is NOT a measure of my worth. After CA 70.3 this year, people asked, "How did you do?" My response?
"Great! I stuck to my race strategy, had a lot of fun, and earned myself a 25 minute PR."
"What was your bike split?"
Are you freakin' kidding me? People are OBSESSED with speed. I guess I do triathlon to escape from time. I am an experiential triathlete. I love how I forget about space and time when I race. All I care about is the moment. I don't know what my heart-rate, speed, or power output was. I can tell you, however, great detail about how the wind sounded when it blew through the trees that day, or the great blue heron that flew over my head, or the smell of the jasmine blooming on the side of the road. No, I may not be very fast. But I always have fun. My typical response to the time-obsessed inquisitors is:
"I don't remember."
Which is actually the honest-to-God truth, although no one believes me. I focus too much on what kind of experience I had to remember my splits. I'd have to look it up, just like those guys probably do. Hey, it's all on Athlinks. So don't ask me. If you really want to know, you'll find out on your own anyway.

How do you answer this question?

Alec Earns His K-Dot

This weekend, Alec did his first triathlon in Mission Bay at the Iron Kids Triathlon . He did awesome! On the ride there, he said, "Poppa, I'm kind of scared of my triathlon." We reassured him that this was normal. First, he got body-marked.

Then, Poppa helped him get ready in transition.

And helped him get his "wetsuit" on (to keep the chill off--the Bay is COLD!!!).

Then, Poppa carried lil' Tenderfoot down to the swim start. Gotta start running around barefoot more, buddy!

One more shot with the athlete (he looks like a Superhero in his swim stuff), and it's time to get ready.

Alec gives us one more smile before the 6-8 year old wave starts.

And he's off! Into the Bay and around the buoys for a 50 meter open-water swim. Something many adults can't do! Alec was fearless.

Alec gets the superstar attention as Ironman Champion Heather Fuhr pulls him out of the water.

--Up and at 'em, he's done with the swim!

--T1: Putting shoes onto wet feet is tough! Grrrr...

And he's off for a 2-mile bike! He went so fast, all I could get was a blur of his back as he whizzed by. (Someone is getting a new bike for his B-day in a few weeks).

After racking his bike and almost forgetting to take off his helmet, he sprints out of T2, full-tilt for the 500-meter run. Go, Alec, go!

In the blink of an eye, he's almost done. Coming down the chute at the end, Alec bobs his head, working hard. This is hard work!

Alec blasts across the finish line! He made it! He's an IronKid!

We pose with our superstar athlete at the end. Good job, Alec! (He said the run was the toughest).

I took off for my ride afterwards, going 62 miles. A small group of us went from Mission Bay through Ocean Beach and Point Loma to the Cabrillo National Monument. Back through Sunset Cliffs and around Mission Bay again, we cut through Pacific Beach and rode up to Mount Soledad. I snapped some pics. The view was gorgeous, as usual.

We continued on to La Jolla Shores, up to UCSD, down into Del Mar and back up Torrey Pines. We then returned to Mission Bay via Rose Canyon. It was a great ride.

On Sunday, I did my 18-mile run in Black Mountain Park. Why did I think 18-miles of hilly trails would be a good idea (actually, it was 9 of hilly road and 9 of hilly trail). The rattlesnake sunbathing in the middle of the path at mile 17 was an extra bit of excitment. Oh, and there was an extra mile at the end, making it an 18-mile run, plus a 1-mile walking cool-down. Hmm, maybe that's why I'm tired today? Time for a recovery week! Yippee!!!

--Sasha, demonstrating proper recovery form.

How Much is Too Much?

As I begin training for my 2nd Ironman, I am pondering this question: how much is too much? When have I crossed that line? Living in San Diego and belonging to Tri Club San Diego (www.triclubsandiego.org), I will always find peers that train harder and faster than I do. Every year, I get fitter, break down my boundaries, and can go harder. I never know where my limits are. Sometimes I feel like I'm Kramer, in that episode of Seinfeld, where he test-drives the car and sees how far it can go until it runs out of gas. I'm curious. How far can I go before I drop? Where are my limits? I'm beginning to realize, just because I CAN, doesn't mean I always SHOULD. There are always consequences afterwards.

I was so excited to get a borrowed bike up in NorCal; I rode that bike as much as I could. Why is it when I'm on vacation, I work out more? This was my week from Thursday on:
Thursday: hard, 6-mi track workout
45 minutes weights
fun 35-mile bike ride with rolling hills
1 hr stretching Yoga
Friday: very hard, 52-mile ride with 7,000 feet of climbing
Saturday: 17 mile run at goal marathon pace (negative split 2nd half of run)
Sunday: 4-mile road race @ 8 min/mi

I knew on Sunday, I shouldn't be running so hard. I knew I should be recovering. But I wanted to test myself. How fast could I run the day after a long run? It was like an experiment. Apparently, I can run pretty fast. But I paid the consequences later. As I boarded the plane to return home, I fell asleep in my seat instantly. I couldn't keep my head up. Exhaustion weighed on me like a clingy, baby elephant. That evening, despite massive amounts of sleep and food, I came down with a low-grade fever. Monday brought a minor cold with that nasty little fever still hanging on. I took a requisite rest day. Looking over my training plan, I realized I hadn't had a day off from training in 2 weeks.

Tuesday, I felt amazing. After a quick workout on the bike trainer, I ran down the 56-bike path for a run. I felt fantastic. Fatigue? Gone. Achiness? Nada. Effort? Easy. A complete 180. Rest days really do work! As I ran, I pondered, "Am I an addict?" I'm reading Drinking, A Love Story by Caroline Knapp, a memoir about how the author battled alcoholism. Sometimes, her description of her love and passion for alcohol sends shivers down my spine; it reminds me of how I feel about triathlon! Am I a "triathaholic"?

Lessons Learned:
1. I can't bike 4x/week on the same weeks I'm running 4x/week. (Well, I can but I'll pay for it later). Since I'm training for a marathon right now, biking 3x a week (~100 miles/week) is plenty.
2. I DO need 1 complete rest day each week. Yes, swimming and weights count!
3. I have a recovery week next week (my 4th week) but I need to watch my fatigue levels. If I get too tired as training progresses, I may move my recovery weeks back to every 3rd week, instead.

Special Offer for the 98th Annual ING Bay to Breakers 12k : May 17th, 2009

Hey Guys,

The organizers of Bay to Breakers (http://www.ingbaytobreakers.com/) e-mailed me, offering readers a 5% discount on this awesome race. I don't normally do this but I love this race, and it's a great opportunity for anyone interested. I raced it in 2006, and it was the most entertaining race I've ever done. It was more like a parade. There's no other race like it.
Link to 2006 Race Report

Special Offer for the 98th Annual ING Bay to Breakers 12k : May 17th, 2009

• You can get an additional 5% off the early registration price for this year’s race.
• Visit www.ingbaytobreakers.com for details about the race
• Register online by midnight on April 30th, 2009 to receive the early registration price with an additional 5% discount http://tinyurl.com/cy3vkw
• Enter this coupon code 5DAAT09 (case sensitive) and click ‘redeem’ before completing your registration
• This offer is limited to the first 100 registrants, so make sure to register as soon as possible!
• Please direct any questions to info@ingbaytobreakers.com
  
  The Fine Print:
  - This is an online offer only
  - Discount is valid only for the registration fee. It is not applied to optional purchases such as the MUNI pass or packet mailing fee
  
  

Enchanted Ride through the Redwoods

On a borrowed bike, I set off for a ride through the redwoods with the Almaden Cycling Touring Club (http://www.actc.org/). I was a bit nervous. The ride was 7,000 feet of climbing, and I was on Al, a borrowed (but nice) bike with standard cranks and a 21 cassette, not my plush 25 with compact cranks. Could I even do this?


Only 1 other guy, the group leader, showed up. Gulp. Maybe it was the rain in the forecast or the 3-miles of dirt paths we had to manuver on our road bikes, or the 7,000 feet of climbing. I just hoped I wasn't too naive to realize what I was getting into. On the other hand, I had my very own personal cycling tour guide!


I followed him onto the dirt trails on the road bike. I rode cautiously, thinking of my poor, dusty mountain bike hanging on the wall in my garage at home. I negotiated the particularly steep uphills by getting off and walking. My new cycling buddy patiently waited for me at the top of each one.


We finally hit the paved roads. And started climbing immediately. Not a gentle grade, either, but the grueling, gut-wrenching, stand up-out-of-the saddle, and grind-the-cranks-with-all-your-might kind of climb. It was steep. Sweat poured down my face. There was no room for chit-chat. My cycling friend mistakenly believed I was the quiet type. I was using every ounce of focus just to make sure I didn't take an embarrassing topple backwards off the bike. I began to worry. Could I do this? Was the whole ride going to be like this?

Just when my thoughts started to overwhelm me, we reached the top. I silently celebrated. We guzzled our sports drinks and slammed Cliff Bars. The view was spectacular. My ride leader put on his jacket, preparing for the 10-mile descent. I followed suit.

gorgeous view at the top of the first climb

We started zipping down, down, down. 10-miles is a long way. My fingers and toes were numb. Luckily, I had given my mom a pair of leg warmers and a cycling jacket for Xmas (she's getting into cycling). This was fortuitous since I had neglected to bring any of my cycling clothes. I've decided my mother needs full cycling gloves for Mother's Day. Just when my legs started cramping up, and I was chilled to the bone, thinking, "Is this downhill ever going to end?", it ended.

We went past a small, hippie town nestled midst the giant redwoods. 1 small organic grocery store, 1 family doctor, 1 coffee shop, and 1 massage therapist. It reminded me of Northern Exposure. Aching for quiet and relaxation, a part of me wanted to stay for 10 days right there and hole myself up in the woods. My tour guide showed me to a very hidden little park with a swimming hole, too cold to play in right now, but I imagined it, teeming with kids in the summer. A lone heron sat like a statue on a rock, searching for fish.

-the secret swimming hole

We turned onto Big Basin Way and began climbing again. The hills were shorter and less steep now. Just when my legs started to feel fatigued, a descent appeared, ready to save me. I enjoyed the rollers as we careened up, down, then up, then down again, winding our way through the massive redwood forests. The trees were so enormous, they had a mysterious aura about them. They are the largest trees in the world and can live for thousands of years. The forests were so dense, they blocked all sunlight. Moss and ferns thrived on the forest floor below, carpeting the ground in an emerald velvet. Mysterious wisps of fog and mist clung to the trees like dense cobwebs, giving the forest an enchanted feeling, and drenching me in a fine, rainless dew. A roaring sound filled my ears. Panic-striken, I turned my head, this way and that, frantically searching for the source of the noise. Is it a semi truck blasting bearing down on this tiny, narrow little road? Is there a freeway nearby? A roaring river down below? A chilling breeze pierced my thin jacket. Suddenly, I understood. It was the wind. The wind, ripping through the tops of the trees, so tall, I couldn't feel the strength of the wind, protected down below. The trees were roaring in unison. The redwoods were so massive, I felt a strange sort of reverence as I rode through.

standing at the base of a redwood in Big Basin Redwood State Park
http://www.bigbasin.org/

the top of the same tree (the 2 pictures of the middle part of the tree is missing)

We regrouped at the state park, giggling at the bear-proof (and human-proof) garbage cans before continuing off. We had reached the halfway point and prepared to climb the 2nd big mountain of the ride. I had been warned that the climb, though not as steep, was long, about 7 miles. I hunkered down, found a rhythm, and focused on maintaining a steady cadence. However, without a computer on my bike, it was agonizing. Are we there yet? Are we there yet? How much further? I had no idea. I zoned out, tried to ignore the aching pain in my lower back, in my calves, in my neck, shoulders, the numbness in my wrists, the hunger in my belly. I had eaten all I had brought with me, which wasn't much. Some Cliff Bloks, some nasty-ass Cytomax that I was having a hard time getting down, a tiny airline package of salted peanuts (yum!), some cinnamon graham crackers, and a piece of bread smothered in honey and butter (my parents didn't have peanut butter). That had been the best I could scrounge up from my parents kitchen that morning. I climbed and climbed and climbed. I began having doubts. I started feeling dull and sluggish. I knew my glycogen stores were being depleted; the endless climb after climb was scorching through my reserves. Could I do this? Somehow I reached the top. It was beautiful. My ride sherpa took one look at me and offered me a bar. It was an organic 250-calorie organic bar of nuts and honey and trail mix. I scarfed it down and felt instantly better.

breathtaking view from the top; it's all downhill from here

I started chatting away happily again. We started descending soon afterwards. Oh, sweet, wonderful, glorious downhills. I hunkered down in the drops, leaning into each turn aggressively. Going down never felt so good. We passed winery after hidden winery, nestled into the mountains. Suddenly, I recognized the turn for the barn where I had stabled my horse as a girl, the Japanese gardens where I had taken field trips with my school, the ice cream shop where I had ridden my horse, the streets where I used to go jogging, my elementary school; we were riding through the town where I had grown up.

We rode through Saratoga, and my ride leader turned up 6th. He gave me a malicious smirk. "One last hill just to see how fit you are", he said. It came as no surprise; I remembered this hill as a kid. It was very, very short, probably only 200 meters but damn steep. Like 13% steep. And I, after nearly 7,000 feet of climbing on a borrowed bike with standard cranks and a 21 cassette. However, I would not admit defeat. I charged the hill, standing up in the saddle and grinding on the cranks, giving it everything I got. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I leaned forward, pushing my weight down and forward. Just when I thought my heart was going to explode out of my mouth, I crested. I had made it.

The final 4 miles back to Los Gatos was a rewarding, gentle downward slope. A wonderful cool-down. I had done it! I was ecstatic. Just before I slammed down a turkey melt and a piece of apple pie (a'la mode of course), falling into bed for a deep, coma nap afterwards.

Route and Map:
http://sdbikeroutes.blogspot.com/2009/04/skylinehwy-9-scenic-redwood-loop.html

On Saturday, I rose early for my next training exercise on the docket: a 17-mile run. I won't get into too much detail, only that it went fabulously, and I was able to negative split the run and hit my target average pace for the run.

Hmmm. Why are my legs so tired?

Adventures in NorCal

I was supposed to have eye surgery today. Turns out, I'm not a good candidate for LASIK. Which is why I flew up to NorCal in the middle of the week (plus, my mom's b-day is Sat). I was a little bummed, at first, but all that disintegrated when I got a hold of my parent's friend's road bike, Al, a beautiful, blue Cannondale. Fits me perfectly. It was meant to be.

First, I squeezed in a track workout at the local high school, a half-mile from where my parents live. School is in session. The track was empty. Perfect. As I arrived, I noticed a huge banner on the school building that some kid had hung. It read, "Jessica, ?PROM? --Salazar" OMG! How cute! I'll go to prom with you, Salazar! I eked out my 3x1 mile repeats. I felt tired and sluggish but I was able to hit my target times. Actually, even better. I wanted to do ~8-8:30...something conservative. I cranked out 7:50 each time. I was kind of proud of myself, especially beause I purposely held back. On my warm-up and cool-down mile, I did some calisthenics: sideways running with legs crossing over each way, sideways skipping/hopping, high-stepping, running backwards. I ran home (up a 1/2 mile hill, btw) and finished up with weights. No wonder I'm tired!

Then, I put Al in the car and headed out to Chain Reaction Bicycles in Los Altos (http://www.chainreaction.com/). Got a cool jersey and picked up some supplies. Then, I headed out to try the infamous "Loop" (http://sdbikeroutes.blogspot.com/2009/04/loop.html). I heard about it so much; I had to try it. When I was describing it to my mom in Whole Foods, this guy came up and started asking questions:
"Where are you riding?"
"The Loop"
"Oh, yes. Good one. Which direction?"
"Counterclockwise."
"Good. You'll love it."

I was salivating by the time I got on the bike. With a borrowed bike, helmet, and shoes, I headed out. I'll admit, I was a bit nervous. On some road I've never been on, atop a bike I didn't know. My worry was needless. Al took good care of me. The clouds rolled in, and a gusty wind began to blow but I didn't care. As soon as I turned onto Page Mill Road, the ride was so absolutely breathtaking, I forgot how hard I was working. A hill? Who cares! I have more time to see the horses! Wind? More time to gape at the backdrop of blue mountains, surrounded by fine mist.

I rode by a beautiful nature preserve, the Atascadero Land Preserve (http://www.supportalps.org/Welcome.html). Lots of trails and gorgeous, rolling hills. I rode past a horse and rider and breathed deeply the tantalizing aroma of sweat mixed with leather. Instead of the familiar sea gulls and roadrunners I'm accustomed to, robins and quail darted about. Leafy green oaks and tall, dark redwoods lined the road, offering generous portions of shade. Every now and then, a hidden vineyard would make a guest appearance.

I passed by several horse farms in Portola Valley, some of which I had ridden at when I was a kid. Suddenly, on Sand Hill Road, the Woodside Horse Park appeared on my left. I was overcome with emotion. I had ridden there, competed there, practically lived there as a kid. In a flash, I suddenly remembered every class that I had ribboned, every fence refused, and every fall I'd taken. The sparkle in my horse's eye when he stepped off the trailer and, upon recognizing the park, puffed up in excitement and anticipation about charging over the cross country fences. Endless hours of grooming every itch on his flank, brushing him until his soft, satiny coat gleamed. I remembered everything so intensely, so vividly; I ached. Distant memories, buried and sealed just under the surface, covered by a thin scar that could easily be scratched. A few miles later, I passed the Stanford Equestrian Center, where I had purchased my 2nd horse. I stared longingly at the horses in the arena, on the trails, and leaping over fences. I kept pedaling.

I rode through campus, passing by the nuclear particle accelerator where physicists release atoms at unfathomable speeds and then crash them to break them apart and analyze what new particles might form. I passed by a beautiful preserve with endless hiking and running trails, full of happy walkers and runners. A sign read, "The Dish". Why, the Dish? I looked it up. Stanford still uses this radiotelescope for research and educational purposes. But all I saw was a beautiful, ecological reserve. So many trails to explore!
http://dish.stanford.edu/

Heading out of the Stanford campus, I passed a guy on an old, beat-up mountain bike with what appeared to be a lawnmower engine hooked up to the bike. He zipped away when the light turned green, clad in wrinkled slacks and polo. Most definitely an ecentric professor. Ah, college campuses. I love it.

Tomorrow's bike ride is a crazy, hilly (6800 feet), 50-mile loop up Bear Creek, Skyline, and Big Basin. Lots of climbing, lots of windy, narrow roads, and lots of gorgeous views (ah, redwoods). Can't wait.

Scenes from today's ride:


.

How do You Achieve Balance?

In response to Dr. John's question on his blog post:
http://coastalsportsmedicine.com/blog/2009/04/how-would-you-answer/

How do you balance family, career, and working out?
It's hard but so necessary. The harder I work on my career, the more I need to train simply for the stress relief. The harder I train, the more I need to recovery (sleep, eat, stretch, massage, etc). I am very organized. I have a lot of lists. I do a lot of planning for the next day at the end of each day. I also go to bed very early. I sacrifice a lot of wasted time, tv watching, and socializing. I get my social time in during workouts and sometimes even family time (my boyfriend and son often work out together--track workouts, anyone?). It's hard but I'm the happiest I've ever been and accomplishing so much more.

Amazing Swim

I woke up at 5 this morning for 6 am swim. That's the 3rd swim in 3 days (tomorrow will be 4). I'm getting LASIK on Thursday, which means no swimming for 1 week. Just when I'm getting faster and LOVING the master's workouts too. Oh, well. It's just 1 week, right? I'm getting stronger in the water. Still slow, but better. I think the secret to getting stronger is to do it more. That's right: to get faster on the swim, bike, or run, the secret formula is: do more!

This morning, there were 7 people in my lane. I freaked out. No way I can keep up with them. We started swimming. I was in the middle of the pack. I swam as hard as I could to maintain an even pace with them. Afterall, that's what I'm used to doing when I swim in a pack that's not the slow lane. Only today was different. The people behind me weren't gaining on me. The swimmers in front weren't pulling away. All of a sudden, I felt bubbles. My fingers grazed the toes of the swimmer in front. I was catching up!

I swam consevatively the rest of the workout, afraid at some point, everyone would start racing ahead. Afterall, I need a good 1000 meters to warm up. It never happened. I got faster and faster, and everyone else got slower and slower. By the end, everyone else jumped up before the final set, and I finished the workout solo. Sickie said I should move up a lane next time. I feel fresh, my shoulders aren't sore, and I'm not tired. I feel incredible.

Rough Weekend and Sunset Ride

My swim went fabulously, especially considering the weekend I had. After 1,000 meters, I felt great. I was joined by several young, strange faces, all college age. Of course, a the start, everyone else zipped by, and I debated wondered to slip into the slow lane. As we began the main set, everyone seemed to lose steam. I started pushing the pace, ready to begin. One swimmer moved into the slow lane. I passed another swimmer. Another swimmer disappeared. I had been prepared to be the weakest swimmer in the lane. Now, I was basically leading. I'm still a slow swimmer but it's a good boost for the ole' confidence. At the end, I skipped the final set, happy to do only 2600 meters today. Afterall, it was supposed to be a recovery swim. I casually mentioned to my fellow, young swimmers (since when did college kids make me feel old?) that I was getting out early, "That's it for me. I had a pretty rough weekend." They all started chuckling and giving me an impressed, wide-eyed look.
"Yeah, so did we." I realized "rough weekend" might have a double meaning depending on your age and environment. I cracked up and laughed with them, not bothering to correct them.

This evening, I hopped onto Torch for one of my favorite workouts: Racing the Sunset. Basically, you pick a target mileage to complete, say 20 or 30 miles, get on your bike with limited daylight to spare, and pedal as fast as you can in one direction until you reach half the distance. Then, glancing at the sinking fireball into the Pacific, you pedal home as fast as you can, half-panicked because you refuse to put lights on your bike. Also, put a nice, long hill between you and the end (Torrey Pines). It's a terrific workout! I went much faster than normally. Not a moment to spare! Motivation is a great thing.

P.S. I can't stop eating. I'm ravenous! It's ridiculous.

Victorious 15-Mile La Jolla/Pacific Beach Run

I hit the snooze not twice, but three times. The damn alarm kept going off. I wanted sooo much to shut it off for good and sleep in. Afterall, it was Sunday. Frantically, I wracked my brain for alternate ways out of my early morning long run. I could run later, I could run with a different running group at a later time, I could run shorter, I could skip it all together..... None of these options were a good substitute, and I knew it. It was going to be hot that day, and my running group was running early and on the coast to avoid the brutality of the heat. It was my best choice. Grunting, I somehow got out of bed. Luckily, my "night self", forseeing that my morning self would have trouble, had laid out my running clothes already and made a pot of coffee. I eased into my clothes, slipped downstairs, and had breakfast. Brent groaned and rolled over, snoring away. Bastard.

As I drove to La Jolla Cove, I gulped. I was nervous. I had biked Palomar yesterday, and even though I wasn't sore, I knew my legs would be tired. 15 miles seemed like a long way. It had been a long time since I had run that far.

I met my running group, and we started off as the temps began to rise. I let the speedsters go ahead and chatted away with my good friend B., who I hadn't seen in awhile. We talked non-stop (I guess I should clarify: I talked non-stop while she listened). We talked about the economy, our jobs, training, self-confidence, life philosophies, and world peace. Well, okay, everything except for that last part. I glanced at my GPS and noticed I was going verrry slow. I didn't care. I wanted to start conservatively. I wanted to finish strong.

We regrouped at mile 5. I gave everyone a brief hug, and we parted ways. I felt like I was going on a long trip and wouldn't see them for a long time. They headed back and I plodded onwards. Afterall, I wasn't turning around until mile 7.5.

I struggled to transition into my new solo rhythm that first lonely mile. I was still going verrry slowly. This sucks, I thought to myself. I tried to speed up. Too fast. Then, too slow. I was having a hard time pacing myself. Was I going so slowly because that's what I was used to doing or because I really needed to? I decided to test myself. I forced myself to speed up to my goal marathon pace and hold it for half a mile. If it felt too strong, I would slow down. But, guess what? It didn't feel too fast! It felt rhythmic and easy. My breathing was still relaxed and calm. My feet felt peppy, snapping like rubber bands off the ground. I had found my stride.

I started taking in the scenery as I ran south along the Pacific Beach boardwalk. The cement path was crowded with dog walkers, strolling lovers walking hand-in-hand, other runners, surfers, moms with strollers, and lollygaggers on beach cruisers, weaving all over the path, as if they were still drunk from the previous night's festivities. It was too early for the party-goers. They wouldn't surface until noon, at the earliest. Plenty of time.

I hit the turn-around. I couldn't believe how fresh I felt. My legs had over 100 miles in them for the week but they felt springy and bouncy as a spring chicken. As I headed back, tantalizing aromas of breakfast burritos and omelettes from adjacent diners wafted through the air. I side-stepped a dried puddle of puke in front of neighboring bar, which quickly quelled the growling in my stomach. A distant fragment of an ancient memory tugged at me, reminscent of my college years, days long ago, lost and forgotten. Two young men, clad in black leather jackets and black jeans, with chains and hoops dangling from various holes in their skin, sauntered past menacingly. I smiled at them. Maybe I'm just too old to be intimidated anymore. Or maybe I am reminded of when I was young, tattooed, pierced, and a rebel without a cause. I avoided a used condom, discarded onto the boardwalk. Okay, that was just plain gross. Hence, I only run in PB 2 or 3 times a year, mostly for entertainment and amusement.

At this point, my stomach had started giving me some trouble. I needed a bathroom. Quick. I knew there was one at the Crystal Pier. Could I make it? I slowed, focused on relaxing, and used all my concentration to prevent discarding something disgusting of my own on the boardwalk. There were no bushes and no bathrooms in sight, and I didn't think the vacationers would appreciate me using their potted palm on the patio as a toilet. I didn't think I was going to make it. Finally, the bathroom came into view. I sighed a huge breath of relief. I did my business and continued on my way, lighter and SO much happier. I resumed my "speedy", marathon pace.

I headed back towards La Jolla. The roads became windy and very hilly. I high-stepped up all the steep hills and flew down the downhills. My legs felt fantastic. I picked up the pace. I zig-zagged around all the tourists flocking to see the seals at Children's Pool. I saw the park by the Cove up ahead. I was going to make it. I was going to do it! I imagined people lining the sidewalk as I sprinted, all cheering my name. A big grin spread across my face. I resisted the urge to throw my arms up into the air, shout "Whoo-hoo!", and run a victory lap around the park. I had run 15. As always, what seemed daunting at the start, became very doable once I started, one step at a time. Not only that, I felt fantastic, despite the killer week and weekend. In addition, I had pushed the pace and achieved my goal speed. Maybe I'm strong enough to work on speed at my long distances now!

After a latte and bagel and lox, I slipped into the Cove for a relaxing 1-mile swim with a group of friends. The ocean waters felt so soothing. It should have been called the "Seaweed Swim" instead of the Cove swim, however. I discovered it's much more efficient to slip in and out between the giant kelp beds, instead of trying to bulldoze my way through the middle. Who knew?

I type this in my compression tights, after some Yoga to stretch everything out, and a good, long ice bath. I will sleep well tonight!

From Palm Trees to Pine Trees in 11 Miles

(The title was suggested by my friend Randy; it was just too perfect).

Today, I climbed Palomar for the 2nd time. Over 5,000 feet of climbing, 60 miles, hot, windy, and good old-fashioned fun. I've decided I have to do this more. I did this ride 1 year ago, my final peak ride before my taper for IMAZ. Dean (may he rest in peace) rode with me the entire way. How time flies.

I reached the parking lot in Kit Carson Park and was greeted by about 20 other cyclists. It was awesome to reconnect with old friends and make new ones simultaneously. I could tell it was going to be a hot day. We headed out and were hit with a false flat almost immediately. Cars honked as they tried to get around (we were riding single file). This would be a common theme for the rest of the ride. Motorists out in the Escondido, Valley Center, Rincon area just 'aint too biker friendly. Sucks.

We climbed up to Lake Wohlford, the first "bump" on the route. It was nothing to sneeze out. The lake was vast and sparkling as the sun's rays played upon the surface. I resisted the urge to take a dip to cool off. We passed by several farms. I loved the goats, the llamas, the cows, the buffalo, but not so much the chickens. They stink! The baby donkey with his big long ears and furry head was by far and away absolutely the cutest thing I've EVER seen. He was very tiny, only a few weeks old, and totally adoreable.

We regrouped at the Taco Shop, at the base of the mountain. I was hungry so I gobbled down a Drumstick ice cream cone. Delicious, refreshing, scrumptious! We began working our way up the mountain. Everyone else hammered away. I maintained my conservative pace, keeping the long climb out of Rincon back up to Lake Wohlford at the end of the ride, in mind. A cool breeze relieved me as I climbed, like natural air conditioning. Gorgeous wildflowers lavishly bloomed in the valleys alongside the mountains: yellow daisies, golden California poppies, lavender lupine. The hillsides were covered in a lush, velvet, green grass. Climbing on Torch is no easy feat. I realize now that climbing on Pandora is cheating. But Torch will be my trusty steed in IM-Canada. So, I plunge into my climbs now on Torch.

We reached the 4,000 feet sign, and I rejoiced. Only 1,000 feet more to go. Of course, the last 1,000 feet is the steepest. And the hardest. And took the longest. I toiled to turn the pedals over around switchback after switchback. My knees were puffy and swollen from Thursday's fall and didn't enjoy the grinding of the gears so much. Especially standing climbs. Seated climbs, ok. Clipping in? Not so much. Ugh! I worry about tomorrow's long run. I spotted my friend, B., on the side of the road. He had flatted. I stopped to help. He was toiling away with his mini pump. I gave him a CO2 cartridge. I hate those damn pumps! He was very thankful but I was relieved for a little break. Little did he know....

We climbed back on and continued our struggle. He was grateful for the cartridge (and some water since he had run out), I was grateful for the company. We reached the 5,000 feet sign. Are we there yet, are we there yet? The climb is supposed to be 5,200 to the top but I the last couple hundred feet are always the worst. Some tourists, stopped at the top to enjoy the view, called out to us as we passed, "You guys are crazy!"
"Thank you!" It seemed like a compliment to me. Finally, we saw the crest, and I secretly rejoiced.

We regrouped at Mother's Kitchen, an awesome diner at the top of Palomar. My brood didn't look so good. They were laying down in a patch of grass by the diner.
"C'mon!" I urged. "Let's get lunch!" Reluctantly, they followed me inside. I bought an awesome club sandwich and a coke, splitting it with B. I gobbled down the food, satiating my grumbling tummies, which was now sloshing with sports drink and Cliff Blocks. After a long, restful break, we climbed back on our bikes and headed down.

11 miles, and 5,200 feet down. Sounds incredible. In actuality, it's a bit harrowing. My wrists ached from squeezing the brakes and my hands went numb. It was difficult to navigate the tri bike around the switchbacks. The road is narrow and motorcycles zoom up and down as fast as they can, leaning their "bikes" (not a real bike) over as far as they can until their knee almost scrapes the pavement. Seems stupid to me but I guess climbing up and flying down with nothing but 15 pounds of carbon between your legs probably seems stupid to them. I took in the view as I spiraled down whenever I could. I could see fog covering the tops of distant mountains, multiple cities far down below, and in the distant west, the Pacific. It was an incredible view. We reached the bottom, and I yawned several times, trying to get my ears to pop. I looked up and gasped. It always amazes me to see this giant mountain I just climbed up on my bike. It's always better to marvel at the mountain after I've climbed it though.

We began climbing up towards Lake Wohlford. The road was narrow, there was no shoulder or bike lane, and angry cars zipped inches from our knees. Not fun at all. Plus, I couldn't help but notice dried boquets of flowers placed on the guardrails around particularly nasty switchbacks. Doesn't exactly give me the greatest confidence biking on roads where I know someone tragically ended their life at that very same place. The temps had soared into the mid-80s, and I could feel my skin baking. I hydrated very well and actually needed to pee by mile 50. Only 10 more left to go, I told myself. I'm holding it. I felt cool internally, as if the hot sun's rays were bouncing off of me. I was immune. I had super-cooling powers. Yippee! We passed by a beautiful herd of horses grazing in a field. Their bellies were plump and their coats were shiny and sleek. A paint laid down in the grass, rolled vigorously to scratch an itch on his back, and laid on his side, grunting, as he closed his eyes to take a nap. He looked exactly how we felt. As we passed by Lake Wohlford, I rejoiced again. I knew the worst was over. We were going to make it.

63 miles and 6 bottles of water later, we made it back to the parking lot. It had been a hot and hilly ride. We all conquered Palomar. Even though I rode most conservatively, I think I felt the best at the end. I ate and hydrated well and kept a slow pace. I think my run tomorrow will go well. I do know that I will be climbing Palomar more frequently. I'm thinking every 2 weeks? Park at the taco shop and go up the South Grade. Now that daylight is getting longer, this is a doable mid-week workout. Awesome!

Battered, Bruised and Bloody

It's been a good but tiring week. I hope I do okay on my crazy hilly 60-mile ride up Palomar tomorrow. I have to run 15 on Sunday. Gulp. I hope to jump in the Cove afterwards for a relaxing swim. Water is about 60. I managed to hit almost all my workouts this week. I decided to take Friday off since this weekend is so killer. I was feeling tired. Maybe biking 4x AND running 4x a week (in addition to swimming 3x and weights 2x and Yoga and oh, btw, I have a full time job too....) is too much? Hmmmm. It's a running-focused block. San Diego Rock 'n Roll Marathon is 6 weeks away. Maybe biking 3x/week right now is okay so I can get my runs in. There will be time for a bike block after this. Gotta follow my plan....

Thursday, Brent and I went for an easy-paced 6-mile run at Black Mountain Park (http://www.sandiego.gov/park-and-recreation/parks/blackmtn/index.shtml).

Brent was relying on me to lead the way. However, I hadn't run there since my race. Apparently, I don't think about where I am at all when I race. It was tough; I didn't recognize anything! The map I had printed didn't show all the alternative trails criss-crossing every which way. It was a fun, exploratory run. We ran down one way, then back-tracked. Finally found a tiny little sign that read "Trail". Maybe that's a clue? Headed down the for a bit, winding over a narrow dirt path littered with rocks. Turned down another wrong path and ran that way for a bit until the grass grew so long and thick, I felt like were bush-wacking our way in the outback. When I finally reached a dry creekbed, I knew we had gone the wrong way. Back again and finally spotted another "Trail" sign. It was like a treasure hunt!

We managed to stay on the designated trail after that. Up one hill, then down the next. I thought Black Mountain Park was supposed to be kind of flat? Nothing but! After 3 miles, we turned and headed back. I felt much more relaxed now that we knew where we were going. I chatted easily, huffing and puffing up yet another hill.

"You're kind of quiet," I commented to Brent.

"I'm concentrating."

"On what?"

"The trail. You have to be careful."
"But we're not going that fast!"

"Well, you also happen to talk a lot more than me." Ha ha. Touche! I have been known to talk to myself when no one is around. I can carry a conversation with myself. You could leave the room, and I wouldn't even take a breath (or realize you had left). But I diverge....

Brent headed up ahead. I knew the final turn towards the car was near; we were about a mile from the start. Like horses smelling the stable, we started to pick up the pace. Suddenly, Brent heard a kerbloop! I tripped on a rock, and in slow motion, realized I was going to fall. I stopped trying not to fall and began preparing to fall. I relaxed and dove forward, doing the Superman belly flop onto the trail. Of course, all of this complex planning happened in milliseconds. I groaned and rolled over to assess the damage. Although it was a dirt path, apparently there were a lot of rocks. I had scrapes all over my wrists, forearms, and left hip. Both knees were badly scratched and bloody. Luckily, my knees broke my fall.

I got up and brushed myself off. The urge was to keep running but Brent convinced me I should walk for a few minutes, at least, to make sure I was okay. I was a bit shaken, bruised, battered, and bloody, but otherwise okay. I had been lucky. My knees didn't feel too great when I ran. I guess I banged 'em pretty hard. Within 5 minutes, I was able to jog without any pain. I knew I hadn't done any major damage.

Once back at home, I cleaned up (after lifting weights first, of course) and took an ice bath to dampen any swelling. The knees look much better today but are a little sore and swollen. It hurts to kneel, making it very hard to pet the bunnies! Some ibuprofen and ice should make me right as rain. I usually take one fall a year (always from running; guess I'm kind of a klutz). I hope this was my one fall!

On that note, remember when we were kids? We used to fall down ALL THE TIME! It was never a big deal. We would get up like nothing happened and keep on playing. We never got HURT! Now, when we fall down, it hurts a lot more. What's up with that?