Yes, you read that right, I am a power walker. Let’s be completely clear about this – I’m not a walker, not a fitness walker, I am a power walker. What’s the difference you ask? The difference my friends is that I am doing it, as such it must be power walking. After months of fine running I found myself on the floor for three days unable to stand, having been bitch slapped by my lower back. Weeks of doing nothing has turned into a couple weeks of evening power walking. I cover the distance of my old race friend, the 5k. Mentally it feels good to walk a race distance. I am learning a few things as I PW (that’s what we in the know call it) and thought I would share.
Walkers code of conduct. Very limited if it exists. As a runner you always yield the left as a runner comes up behind you. Walkers however tend to float all over the sidewalk. It’s like they all have inner ear problems. Lord help you if there are two of them. They don’t budge. I call out a mild mannered “coming through” and the wall of rump in front of me seems to close up before I can get through. The other night I thought I wasn’t going to make it. Half way through, the gap was closing fast. I turned sideways, sucking myself into the thinnest stick of a man I could and just cleared those cheeks of death before darkness engulfed the street. One step slower and there might have been a mangled mess of a man left on the sidewalk gasping for breath and praying for some sanitizer.
Talking. Zipping along a runner will often see another runner coming at them. Due to the speed of the runners, there is barely time to say hi - generally just time for a quick head nod as you pass each other. Walkers on the other hand come at you slowly. You look at them and for the next 5 minutes while you pass each other there is time to exchange recipes. It is an awkward time for me. I am friendly but I don’t want to talk to anyone (I am a power walker after all). So I try not to make eye contact but the harder I try the more my eyes want to, have to look at them. Our eyes meet and I give the runners head nod. Now for the next 30-45 seconds I don’t know what to do. So I just keep giving the head nod until they pass. I find that it you do this, they will pick up their pace to get past you as soon as possible.
To combat all of this I have taken to wearing thug attire. Aside from my jet black sweat/PJ pants, I wear a sweatshirt with a large hood and a skull cap pulled down to my eyebrows that also covers my ears completely. I push my lips together and stare straight ahead. My gait however doesn’t help. My physical therapist says my hips are tight so I find myself swinging my hips back and forth. Add to this that I don’t want to heal strike so I lift my quads higher than normal with each step. Now I look like a gay thug power walker. No one talks to me now though occasionally I think I get a wink.
Next week the verdict on my return to running will be in. Tuesday is the day. I hope for good news and I can begin to run again. I’ll be more careful this time. I’ll work my core, stretch, continue the exercises to keep my glutes strong and hips loose. Until then I will power walk my way forward. In fact I will be out there in the rain shortly knocking out another 5k. If you see me feel free to say hi. Outside I may look tough but inside I can’t wait to see you.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Running: MIA
Seems I'm taking another sabbatical from running. Not by choice of course, though that would at
least make me feel better - to have some level of control (real or not) always
makes me feel better. No, this year
little issues have cropped up and the best medicine has been to lay off the
running and sometimes the weight lifting too.
I look back through my running log and see gaps that translate to
reduced fitness levels and an extra pound or two. I don't need the log to tell me I've added a
few pounds. Clothes and mirrors speak
loudly. Wear lots of clothes and for heaven's
sake, avoid the mirror. There's nothing
worse than seeing yourself naked when you feel heavy. Your first thought is whoa, that dude needs to
work out or suck it in. Sadly you're
already sucking it in....
When you can't run suddenly everyone's a runner. Everyone's running. Old people... young people...they are everywhere and they all look fast. Yesterday I was walking and a mom and her infant son ran by. "Oh he was running by six months" she yells as she flies by trying to keep up with him. I would have answered back but there was a curb coming up and I needed to conserve my strength.
When you can't run suddenly everyone's a runner. Everyone's running. Old people... young people...they are everywhere and they all look fast. Yesterday I was walking and a mom and her infant son ran by. "Oh he was running by six months" she yells as she flies by trying to keep up with him. I would have answered back but there was a curb coming up and I needed to conserve my strength.
Another little secret is that when I don't run I have a tendency
to get a little cranky. Oh it's hardly noticeable I'm sure but it's
there. It's not helped however by the
out of shape over eating television watching non exerciser who sees me moving a
little slower and a little guarded and remarks "Yeah, that's why I don't
run". My inside voice mutters
something about a lazy snack munching slob but my outside voice say
nothing. I simply smile and slide the
box of donuts a little closer to his outstretched sausage fingers.
I'm closing in on getting back to it and I can't wait. To reconnect with friends, run off stress,
and simply enjoy "being out there" will be great. It won't be long until you begin to say to
yourself "What the F, is the only thing that guy can post on facebook is
how far he ran today? Yes my friends,
that will be a good day....
Monday, July 9, 2012
M-80
This time of year we hear M-80’s go off all the time. These illegal fireworks pack an explosive punch so great that you can feel it in your chest when it goes off. I imagine if you’re close to one it would take your breath away – even if you knew it was about to go off. Then you have to worry about the pee. Yes, some people actually pee a little (or a lot) when they get startled. An M-80 will do the trick. Stop it! I’m not talking about me. I do not pee when startled, I happen to spill water quite often that’s all. It would be nice to have that “medical” excuse. You know the one – “it’s because I had a baby”….”ever since little Johnny I can’t even sneeze or cough anymore without a little surprise”. Can you imagine a man trying that to explain away gas? “Oh sorry dear but ever since I carried your piano up those three flights of stairs”….
Clearly an M-80 is powerful. That is also one of the words I would use to describe the young man I had the pleasure of running a couple races with - Thomas, better known as “Little T”. Most recently we ran the Run of the Mill 5k together. In fact many of the Bertollisport gang was there to run, walk, or support. Sharon, Helena, Rita, Iain, Jessica, Marcie, Curt, Monica, and Savannah were on hand for the race. Each has their own incredible story about that run; stories that would make you smile and touch your heart. I will focus on just one. This is about the amazing journey I had running with T.
We arrived at the race ready to go. The sun was out and the 9:30 start time meant that the warmer temperature was going to make this run a little harder. I had my normal 2-3 potty stops before the race. I took T with me each time and made him try to go. Every time he’d look up at me and say “Mikey, I DON’T have to go”. At the same time he’d give me that look – the one that almost says I going to humor you you crazy old man but I’m not going to pee.
We jumped in line about 20 minutes before the start. We lined up behind the runners, in the official joggers chute. The instructions I gave T were simple. “Hold my hand until we get through the crowd and then you can run. I’ll be right behind you”. Well we hit the timing mat at the start line and his hand was gone. So was T….He was off and running. Mid you there were a lot of people in front of us and the first half mile or so was pretty packed. T would get boxed in behind people and I’d chuckle because I knew he was getting frustrated. Suddenly a small gap would open and bam, T would dart through, weave to the right or left, and sprint to open a gap before setting back to his pace. Holy shit, this kid is only six. I’m trying now to catch up and the gap has closed (or I’m to ah big) so I have to find a way around. Sometimes he’s done this 3-4 times in a row and I’m running all over trying to get back to him. I can see him looking around for the next opportunity to move through the crowd.
At the same time I’m laughing because of the faces I see and comments I hear as T does his thing. There is disbelief and praise. I’m sure a lot of those runners expected to see him further down the road walking because he was tired, burned out. Not this kid. He never stopped running. His arms would pump back and forth and his gaze forward – unless of course he was passing someone. Every time he passed he would turn his head and look up at the adult as if to wonder why they were moving so slowly. I worried that this might bother some runners so I would yell out “look straight T, watch where you’re going”. Inside I’m cracking up. I would have loved to been filming this.
At mile two he handed me a much needed invisible energy bar coupled with a knuckle bump and a smile. A bit later I could see the sweat on his face and we had just passed a table with bottles of water stacked up. I asked if he wanted water and he nodded. I told him to keep running and I ran back to fetch the water and caught up and handed it to him. He slowed and drank and handed the water back to me. He didn’t say thank you. His only words were “I didn’t stop, I’m not stopping”. That my friends was a thousand times better than a thank you. His determination was enough to choke a guy up – if a guy was to get choked up about that kind of stuff….As we ran on the memory of my first half marathon popped into my head. At mile 7 I had missed a Gu (energy) station and Albert told me to run on. He ran back and caught up to me with a Gu and water to wash it down. Thank you Albert.
Soon we could hear cheering so I knew the finish was near. T was ready to be done; he’d run his heart out. Up the hills, through the heat, in and out of runners. In no time we could hear Sharon shouting (screaming) for T and we breezed across the finish. One for the record books. Thomas set another PR, finishing in 32:45. Wow! Now it was time for hugs, water, donuts, and a Popsicle. I see the day coming when Little T will be at the finish line waiting for Mikey to finish. He’ll talk about his run and the new record he just set. I won’t hear much of what he says between my gasps of breath, ringing in my ears, and it’s never easy to hear when you’re doubled over. But like today, I will be proud of him.
Clearly an M-80 is powerful. That is also one of the words I would use to describe the young man I had the pleasure of running a couple races with - Thomas, better known as “Little T”. Most recently we ran the Run of the Mill 5k together. In fact many of the Bertollisport gang was there to run, walk, or support. Sharon, Helena, Rita, Iain, Jessica, Marcie, Curt, Monica, and Savannah were on hand for the race. Each has their own incredible story about that run; stories that would make you smile and touch your heart. I will focus on just one. This is about the amazing journey I had running with T.
We arrived at the race ready to go. The sun was out and the 9:30 start time meant that the warmer temperature was going to make this run a little harder. I had my normal 2-3 potty stops before the race. I took T with me each time and made him try to go. Every time he’d look up at me and say “Mikey, I DON’T have to go”. At the same time he’d give me that look – the one that almost says I going to humor you you crazy old man but I’m not going to pee.
We jumped in line about 20 minutes before the start. We lined up behind the runners, in the official joggers chute. The instructions I gave T were simple. “Hold my hand until we get through the crowd and then you can run. I’ll be right behind you”. Well we hit the timing mat at the start line and his hand was gone. So was T….He was off and running. Mid you there were a lot of people in front of us and the first half mile or so was pretty packed. T would get boxed in behind people and I’d chuckle because I knew he was getting frustrated. Suddenly a small gap would open and bam, T would dart through, weave to the right or left, and sprint to open a gap before setting back to his pace. Holy shit, this kid is only six. I’m trying now to catch up and the gap has closed (or I’m to ah big) so I have to find a way around. Sometimes he’s done this 3-4 times in a row and I’m running all over trying to get back to him. I can see him looking around for the next opportunity to move through the crowd.
At the same time I’m laughing because of the faces I see and comments I hear as T does his thing. There is disbelief and praise. I’m sure a lot of those runners expected to see him further down the road walking because he was tired, burned out. Not this kid. He never stopped running. His arms would pump back and forth and his gaze forward – unless of course he was passing someone. Every time he passed he would turn his head and look up at the adult as if to wonder why they were moving so slowly. I worried that this might bother some runners so I would yell out “look straight T, watch where you’re going”. Inside I’m cracking up. I would have loved to been filming this.
At mile two he handed me a much needed invisible energy bar coupled with a knuckle bump and a smile. A bit later I could see the sweat on his face and we had just passed a table with bottles of water stacked up. I asked if he wanted water and he nodded. I told him to keep running and I ran back to fetch the water and caught up and handed it to him. He slowed and drank and handed the water back to me. He didn’t say thank you. His only words were “I didn’t stop, I’m not stopping”. That my friends was a thousand times better than a thank you. His determination was enough to choke a guy up – if a guy was to get choked up about that kind of stuff….As we ran on the memory of my first half marathon popped into my head. At mile 7 I had missed a Gu (energy) station and Albert told me to run on. He ran back and caught up to me with a Gu and water to wash it down. Thank you Albert.
Soon we could hear cheering so I knew the finish was near. T was ready to be done; he’d run his heart out. Up the hills, through the heat, in and out of runners. In no time we could hear Sharon shouting (screaming) for T and we breezed across the finish. One for the record books. Thomas set another PR, finishing in 32:45. Wow! Now it was time for hugs, water, donuts, and a Popsicle. I see the day coming when Little T will be at the finish line waiting for Mikey to finish. He’ll talk about his run and the new record he just set. I won’t hear much of what he says between my gasps of breath, ringing in my ears, and it’s never easy to hear when you’re doubled over. But like today, I will be proud of him.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Tulip Terror
Sure there are things I’m afraid of or maybe it’s manlier to say “not comfortable with” – such as water, meteors on a collision course with Earth, woman with more facial hair than I, but tulips? Pretty little tulips? It wasn’t so much an actual tulip but more the 2 mile race today. Terror is really too strong of a word, I’m no pussy after all. Stop it, I’m really not. It was a BIG sliver and I wasn’t crying…sometimes my eyes water…stupid eyes.
Yes, I raced today. It’s been sometime since I’ve done that. I admit I was a bit nervous. You know I’m on my comeback and my mileage has been increasing. Long slow miles which I once thought would make me a long slow tortoise, er runner. Turns out that I wrong. Anyway, the past few weeks I have been having a disagreement with my right hip. Honestly we’ve not been on speaking terms unless you count its parts and pieces causing me pain and my foul mouthed response to it – which has mostly been aimed at my hip though people around me may have suffered from collateral damage – sorry. I don’t do well when I have pain that prevents me from running. If I was a horse you might take me out back and shoot me – though I would prefer going the stud route….
My fear today was that my hip would give me some lip and I would end up walking. It behaved and I ran a good race. Managed a 7:54 pace which while not my best, saved me from being shot and my stud fee has increased. All this however was only a fraction of the day. Today was the first official outing of the 2012 Bertollisport Multisport Race Team (BMRT). Eleven ran today and I think those handing out medals are still shaking their heads and wondering who these people are. Seven of the eleven walked away with medals, ranging from 1st in their age group to third. The youngest was Evan, Curt’s 10 year old son who from this day forward will always be “Rocket” to me. He finished first in his age group for the 5 mile with an 8:01 pace. He didn’t look tired coming in the final 50 yards. Sharon and Steve both won their age group but neglected to fill out the bottom of their race bib so there was no official data to cling too. I took home a medal and Steve was in front of me – he more than earned it. Not just for today’s race but for the journey to get here. Iain won his division and I think we’ll see more decoration around his neck as the season continues.
Then there were the girls. Leah, Jessica, and Sharon showed their stuff and walked away with medals – cept for Sharon as you recall the bib incident. These girls are just plain f’ing fast. I love fast girls. No mom, that’s not what I meant…..I saw Helena finish the 5 miles and she looked like she could keep on going. The 2 mile girls ran out to run in with Tara who was cranking out a 5 miler today. I can’t speak for her but in her eyes I saw what she’s made of as she came down the stretch with her friends – that girl will never quit - -anything! Finally there’s Melanie who I’ve seen progress for a few years now. She is in the best shape I’ve seen and today’s race proved that. She’s going to have a great year!
The best thing though was seeing everyone together. Cheering for each other, helping each other, showing true friendship. I’m lucky to be part of this group and I can’t wait for the rest of the gang to race with us. Bertollisport is more than a group of people training together. Its people who care, people who believe in each other, it’s a family. Bertollisport thank you for everything. I’m all in….
Yes, I raced today. It’s been sometime since I’ve done that. I admit I was a bit nervous. You know I’m on my comeback and my mileage has been increasing. Long slow miles which I once thought would make me a long slow tortoise, er runner. Turns out that I wrong. Anyway, the past few weeks I have been having a disagreement with my right hip. Honestly we’ve not been on speaking terms unless you count its parts and pieces causing me pain and my foul mouthed response to it – which has mostly been aimed at my hip though people around me may have suffered from collateral damage – sorry. I don’t do well when I have pain that prevents me from running. If I was a horse you might take me out back and shoot me – though I would prefer going the stud route….
My fear today was that my hip would give me some lip and I would end up walking. It behaved and I ran a good race. Managed a 7:54 pace which while not my best, saved me from being shot and my stud fee has increased. All this however was only a fraction of the day. Today was the first official outing of the 2012 Bertollisport Multisport Race Team (BMRT). Eleven ran today and I think those handing out medals are still shaking their heads and wondering who these people are. Seven of the eleven walked away with medals, ranging from 1st in their age group to third. The youngest was Evan, Curt’s 10 year old son who from this day forward will always be “Rocket” to me. He finished first in his age group for the 5 mile with an 8:01 pace. He didn’t look tired coming in the final 50 yards. Sharon and Steve both won their age group but neglected to fill out the bottom of their race bib so there was no official data to cling too. I took home a medal and Steve was in front of me – he more than earned it. Not just for today’s race but for the journey to get here. Iain won his division and I think we’ll see more decoration around his neck as the season continues.
Then there were the girls. Leah, Jessica, and Sharon showed their stuff and walked away with medals – cept for Sharon as you recall the bib incident. These girls are just plain f’ing fast. I love fast girls. No mom, that’s not what I meant…..I saw Helena finish the 5 miles and she looked like she could keep on going. The 2 mile girls ran out to run in with Tara who was cranking out a 5 miler today. I can’t speak for her but in her eyes I saw what she’s made of as she came down the stretch with her friends – that girl will never quit - -anything! Finally there’s Melanie who I’ve seen progress for a few years now. She is in the best shape I’ve seen and today’s race proved that. She’s going to have a great year!
The best thing though was seeing everyone together. Cheering for each other, helping each other, showing true friendship. I’m lucky to be part of this group and I can’t wait for the rest of the gang to race with us. Bertollisport is more than a group of people training together. Its people who care, people who believe in each other, it’s a family. Bertollisport thank you for everything. I’m all in….
Saturday, March 10, 2012
The B Side
The comeback journey is well underway. However I feel like the B side of an old record - overshadowed by the A side. The side everyone cheers for, plays for hours, you watch it rise on the charts. It’s the popular side. The B side by contrast isn’t given much hope. It tries. Hangs around. Hopes that someone accidentally puts the record on upside down and it gets a chance to show what it’s made of. Every once in a while the B side becomes a hit, even overshadows the A side. My B side is an A side wanna be.
Honestly it has been harder than I thought it would be. In order to kick it into high gear I’ve had to say goodbye to some old friends. Some had drifted away while others have dug in and refused to go. Not to embarrass them but Mr. JellyDonut, Ms Snacksizecandybar, and the always in my face Mr. Pintof anykindoffullonhighfaticecream have yet to get the hint that it’s time for them to go. Maybe I’ve been too nice to them. I admit that more than once I’ve woken up with Ms Snacksizecandybar laying next to me. Don’t blame me, it was a fun size bag after all….
My workouts have been steady and fruitful. I’m back to lifting weights a couple days a week. Getting tone back in my once hard body is important to me and it’ll be nice to take the newspaper off the mirrors. Lifting has been a mental lift as well, a way to gauge my return in a way other than speed. Strength is coming back and I suspect the broader my shoulders become the smaller my center chub will appear.
Running is smiling at me again. Sharon has me on a strict diet of slow mileage. At first I scoffed at it, maybe stomped my feet once or twice, and pronounced to the team that I simply cannot run that slowly. Oops…after the reprimand and a refresher in the science of running (plus a reminder that I am not the runner I once was – ouch), I realized that she was right and I would concede. The past two weeks have been great. I am building my base and enjoying my road time. Today I rolled out 7 miles which included a nice hill and I felt great afterwards.
Stretching is now routine and my foam roller and I are getting reacquainted. I love the group I am running with and the support this group has for each other is something one doesn’t find just anywhere. I will complete my first Duathlon in June and who knows, maybe this guy has some speed left in him still. Lookout 5K age division leaders, the B side is coming back and sometimes just sometimes, they can be a hit….
Honestly it has been harder than I thought it would be. In order to kick it into high gear I’ve had to say goodbye to some old friends. Some had drifted away while others have dug in and refused to go. Not to embarrass them but Mr. JellyDonut, Ms Snacksizecandybar, and the always in my face Mr. Pintof anykindoffullonhighfaticecream have yet to get the hint that it’s time for them to go. Maybe I’ve been too nice to them. I admit that more than once I’ve woken up with Ms Snacksizecandybar laying next to me. Don’t blame me, it was a fun size bag after all….
My workouts have been steady and fruitful. I’m back to lifting weights a couple days a week. Getting tone back in my once hard body is important to me and it’ll be nice to take the newspaper off the mirrors. Lifting has been a mental lift as well, a way to gauge my return in a way other than speed. Strength is coming back and I suspect the broader my shoulders become the smaller my center chub will appear.
Running is smiling at me again. Sharon has me on a strict diet of slow mileage. At first I scoffed at it, maybe stomped my feet once or twice, and pronounced to the team that I simply cannot run that slowly. Oops…after the reprimand and a refresher in the science of running (plus a reminder that I am not the runner I once was – ouch), I realized that she was right and I would concede. The past two weeks have been great. I am building my base and enjoying my road time. Today I rolled out 7 miles which included a nice hill and I felt great afterwards.
Stretching is now routine and my foam roller and I are getting reacquainted. I love the group I am running with and the support this group has for each other is something one doesn’t find just anywhere. I will complete my first Duathlon in June and who knows, maybe this guy has some speed left in him still. Lookout 5K age division leaders, the B side is coming back and sometimes just sometimes, they can be a hit….
Saturday, February 11, 2012
The Comeback Kid
Comeback Kid. At 52 maybe Kid isn’t the right word. Geezer? Too harsh. Adult? Too formal and too far from the truth. :) Let’s just say that I am between diapers and depends…though a little closer to the latter. Age doesn’t freak me out because my mind has enough to keep track of without having to worry about a number. Did I blow out the candle? Close the garage door? Company is coming over, are the toilets flushed? All much more critical – wouldn’t you agree?
Having been out of commission (see previous blog) for a couple months I had been looking forward to starting up my workouts. In my mind I was already winning races and busting out some powerful pecs. That’s right ladies, powerful pecs. “Hey, have you seen Michael lately?” “Yes, I have and oh my gosh he’s ripped.” “There he is, get out of my way”. “No you get out of the way bit*h”. Fighting ensues. I have such a happy place don’t I? I found that it hasn’t been quite that easy. My weight is my enemy, running is lacking, and workouts are a struggle. I will break down each one.
Weight. I have gained 9 pounds. Don’t roll your eyes. 9 pounds is a lot for me. Some lucky souls have weight gain travel to better places. Boobs for instance. Two of my friends gained weight and 90% of it ended up there. They complained, I didn’t. In fact I gave them more ice cream. My weight gain is old school, dead center in the belly. I have a muffin top. When someone tells me my shoe is untied, I tell them I like it that way. I refuse to stand on the scale until I have pooped. For a week I ate salad. No change. I like candy and chips. I now like ice cream too….
Running. Holy heck, where did my cardio go? I’m putting it on milk cartons - “Disappeared in 2011. If found call 1-800-HeavyB.” The elliptical machine kicks my butt. Tried the treadmill and forgot how boring it was. It didn’t help to have a 90 year old Chinese woman knitting a scarf next to me knocking out a faster pace. Trail running has been a blessing. If I’m too slow getting back I simply tell everyone that I got lost. With my sense of direction that truth-bender is believable. I am no longer fast and my endurance limited.
Workouts. I was a bodybuilder once. Maybe I should just leave it with that - it’ll leave a better picture in your head. Today I struggle with minimal weight and sometimes count by two’s on my way to 10 reps. Tank tops have been replaced by baggy shirts. I go to core class and my abs hurt after 5 reps. Scratch that, I meant my ab hurt. I have a one pack.
There is a benefit to all this – chicks don’t talk to me as much. Thank God, I can finally get something done. I mean really, texts, phone calls, emails, standing out by my car waiting for me – what a burden I carried. Having said all that, I am working my way back. I lost a pound – that’s 11% of my goal (happy place). I have shown self control and limit my eating in the evening – brushing my teeth early helps a lot. Workouts are coming along. Strength is slowly coming back. Looking in the mirror with the light just dim enough I am beginning to look good in my mind. Running is a long journey back if I want to avoid injury. My 4 minute walk, 6 minute run has dropped to 3/7, 2/8, and today I walked one minute and ran 9 for an hour – managed 5.5 miles and though taxed, my recovery was swifter than the week prior. Increased intensity will burn more calories and my weight will move in the right direction. I am planning on my first Duathlon in June. A 5k, 15 mile bike, followed by another 5k. Having a goal will give direction and purpose to my workouts. This may not be a comeback after all. It may simply be a new chapter for an aging athlete. What am I saying? It’s a frickin comeback – nobody is aging around here. Look out baby, Mr Chubby is going to be history – save your laundry, these abs will be washboards soon enough. By the way, I have some ice cream for you….
Having been out of commission (see previous blog) for a couple months I had been looking forward to starting up my workouts. In my mind I was already winning races and busting out some powerful pecs. That’s right ladies, powerful pecs. “Hey, have you seen Michael lately?” “Yes, I have and oh my gosh he’s ripped.” “There he is, get out of my way”. “No you get out of the way bit*h”. Fighting ensues. I have such a happy place don’t I? I found that it hasn’t been quite that easy. My weight is my enemy, running is lacking, and workouts are a struggle. I will break down each one.
Weight. I have gained 9 pounds. Don’t roll your eyes. 9 pounds is a lot for me. Some lucky souls have weight gain travel to better places. Boobs for instance. Two of my friends gained weight and 90% of it ended up there. They complained, I didn’t. In fact I gave them more ice cream. My weight gain is old school, dead center in the belly. I have a muffin top. When someone tells me my shoe is untied, I tell them I like it that way. I refuse to stand on the scale until I have pooped. For a week I ate salad. No change. I like candy and chips. I now like ice cream too….
Running. Holy heck, where did my cardio go? I’m putting it on milk cartons - “Disappeared in 2011. If found call 1-800-HeavyB.” The elliptical machine kicks my butt. Tried the treadmill and forgot how boring it was. It didn’t help to have a 90 year old Chinese woman knitting a scarf next to me knocking out a faster pace. Trail running has been a blessing. If I’m too slow getting back I simply tell everyone that I got lost. With my sense of direction that truth-bender is believable. I am no longer fast and my endurance limited.
Workouts. I was a bodybuilder once. Maybe I should just leave it with that - it’ll leave a better picture in your head. Today I struggle with minimal weight and sometimes count by two’s on my way to 10 reps. Tank tops have been replaced by baggy shirts. I go to core class and my abs hurt after 5 reps. Scratch that, I meant my ab hurt. I have a one pack.
There is a benefit to all this – chicks don’t talk to me as much. Thank God, I can finally get something done. I mean really, texts, phone calls, emails, standing out by my car waiting for me – what a burden I carried. Having said all that, I am working my way back. I lost a pound – that’s 11% of my goal (happy place). I have shown self control and limit my eating in the evening – brushing my teeth early helps a lot. Workouts are coming along. Strength is slowly coming back. Looking in the mirror with the light just dim enough I am beginning to look good in my mind. Running is a long journey back if I want to avoid injury. My 4 minute walk, 6 minute run has dropped to 3/7, 2/8, and today I walked one minute and ran 9 for an hour – managed 5.5 miles and though taxed, my recovery was swifter than the week prior. Increased intensity will burn more calories and my weight will move in the right direction. I am planning on my first Duathlon in June. A 5k, 15 mile bike, followed by another 5k. Having a goal will give direction and purpose to my workouts. This may not be a comeback after all. It may simply be a new chapter for an aging athlete. What am I saying? It’s a frickin comeback – nobody is aging around here. Look out baby, Mr Chubby is going to be history – save your laundry, these abs will be washboards soon enough. By the way, I have some ice cream for you….
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Generosity
I am blessed in so many ways. Sadly I fear that I don’t always appreciate that fact. “Life” happens and with the rush of the day it’s far too easy to hang on to the stressful moments and only glimpse at the ones you should really focus on. I have been reminded of others generosity lately and in fact have been touched deeply by it.
Two days ago I had out-patient surgery. However for some time prior I’d been dealing with pain and discomfort in my man area. Yes, the scrotum. I had some sort of growth in there for a few years but over the past 6-8 months it decided that size mattered and went to work. Its mission - to get as large as possible. Humor is my weapon and I joked about it being an alien, or a watermelon. I was however a bit freaked out and knew I needed to have it looked at. I couldn’t. Why? Because I’m 52. My dad passed away in the hospital at 52 and there was no way I would be admitted to the hospital at that age. Stupid? Silly? Maybe but that was the deal.
Suddenly everything seems to point me to the doctor. I’d feel like I’d been hit in the groin 80% of the time. Trying to make it through spin class while sitting on the alien hurt. I’d try and push it to the side but eventually there wasn’t any room to move it. Running caused discomfort. Walking no better. My best friend noticed and basically said get to the doctor. She was more colorful that than…
Saw the doctor who poked me in places I’d rather not think about which resulted in an appointment for an ultrasound to determine the makeup of the alien. Two days later I was at the hospital waiting for my name to be called. My tech calls me, oh great it’s a woman. Just what I hoped for…not! Next thing I know my “goods” are laying out in the open air as she’s squirting hot gel on her tools of the trade. I won’t share the details of the next 30-45 minutes except to say that she was chatty and I was most uncomfortable – how does one carry on a conversation when his…well, you get the picture.
The results of the ultrasound showed not a tumor but a hydrocele. Basically fluid buildup that was expanding because there was nowhere for it to go. The solution was surgery. At this point in time I had alerted those at work, family and friends. I will say that the people I work with at Quadrant Homes are the best. They were truly concerned and cared about me, not that fact that I would miss work, but about how I was doing. You only find people like that in an organization bred in character. I am grateful to work for a company like that. Family and friends emailed, called, and texted to show their support. My oldest called me three balls. How cute :).
My surgery was in the afternoon and Sharon called and offered to take me to her PT that morning to help take my mind off the surgery. Watching her and others go through PT and chatting with the therapists was good medicine. We finished up and she drove me to the hospital. All along I was receiving messages. Steve was praying for me and others gave shout outs for best wishes. Funny how things like that give you a peaceful confidence. My nerves calmed and I soon met Joy, my nurse. She was a little kooky but what the heck – I wondered about her when she tried to write with the wrong end of the pen, then told me she would take good care of me….Soon I was rolled to the third floor where I met the team who would fix me. I recall hearing that I was getting happy juice and after a couple breaths in the mask they slid over my mouth I was out. In what seemed like minutes I woke up and it was done. Over. I survived.
Once I was aware enough to grab my phone I had well over 20 messages and texts from family and friends. How great that felt. In the middle of their busy lives they knew what I was going through and took the time to check in. Sharon came to pick me up but the hospital wouldn’t let me go until I peed. Apparently that’s an important function. I didn’t have to go. Tea was ordered by Sharon to help move things along. By the time I had two glasses of water, a glass of cranberry juice, and two glasses of tea, I made my way to the bathroom. Success. Heck, the nurses in the hallway heard me going. It was time to go!
I arrived home and was tucked in, safe and sound. The next day I slept a lot. I was floating in and out of awareness. Now the same day I was having my minor surgery my neighbor Angie was having a mastectomy. Turns out after a routine mammogram cancer was found. Angie and her husband Mitch are great people with two lovely kids. Her surgery was a success and Tuesday we’ll know if they got it all. I pray they did. Even with all that going on in their lives, they touched mine. I woke up yesterday to a note on my fridge (picture posted to the left) and plenty of food. Wow. Sharon has been by to check on me at all hours and calls from family and friends continue. I hope I never take any of you for granted and I’ll be there, for each and every one of you when you need me, maybe even if you think you don’t.
Saw the doctor yesterday and he removed the drain. Ever watch someone pull out a nearly 4 inch long piece of plastic from your scrotum? It was like watching a sword swallower pull his sword out. Ouch is all I can say. He plugged the hole and taped me up. His orders are no sex for a month (really, like that was happening before?) and no exercise for the same time period. Lift nothing over 10 pounds. Weight gain here I come. I’ll be a little sloppy for awhile and will miss out on my annual polar bear dive and 5K. I’m glad I had the surgery. Next time you see me I’ll be a little slimmer below the belt and a bit chunkier above….a pretty good trade off I think.
Two days ago I had out-patient surgery. However for some time prior I’d been dealing with pain and discomfort in my man area. Yes, the scrotum. I had some sort of growth in there for a few years but over the past 6-8 months it decided that size mattered and went to work. Its mission - to get as large as possible. Humor is my weapon and I joked about it being an alien, or a watermelon. I was however a bit freaked out and knew I needed to have it looked at. I couldn’t. Why? Because I’m 52. My dad passed away in the hospital at 52 and there was no way I would be admitted to the hospital at that age. Stupid? Silly? Maybe but that was the deal.
Suddenly everything seems to point me to the doctor. I’d feel like I’d been hit in the groin 80% of the time. Trying to make it through spin class while sitting on the alien hurt. I’d try and push it to the side but eventually there wasn’t any room to move it. Running caused discomfort. Walking no better. My best friend noticed and basically said get to the doctor. She was more colorful that than…
Saw the doctor who poked me in places I’d rather not think about which resulted in an appointment for an ultrasound to determine the makeup of the alien. Two days later I was at the hospital waiting for my name to be called. My tech calls me, oh great it’s a woman. Just what I hoped for…not! Next thing I know my “goods” are laying out in the open air as she’s squirting hot gel on her tools of the trade. I won’t share the details of the next 30-45 minutes except to say that she was chatty and I was most uncomfortable – how does one carry on a conversation when his…well, you get the picture.
The results of the ultrasound showed not a tumor but a hydrocele. Basically fluid buildup that was expanding because there was nowhere for it to go. The solution was surgery. At this point in time I had alerted those at work, family and friends. I will say that the people I work with at Quadrant Homes are the best. They were truly concerned and cared about me, not that fact that I would miss work, but about how I was doing. You only find people like that in an organization bred in character. I am grateful to work for a company like that. Family and friends emailed, called, and texted to show their support. My oldest called me three balls. How cute :).
My surgery was in the afternoon and Sharon called and offered to take me to her PT that morning to help take my mind off the surgery. Watching her and others go through PT and chatting with the therapists was good medicine. We finished up and she drove me to the hospital. All along I was receiving messages. Steve was praying for me and others gave shout outs for best wishes. Funny how things like that give you a peaceful confidence. My nerves calmed and I soon met Joy, my nurse. She was a little kooky but what the heck – I wondered about her when she tried to write with the wrong end of the pen, then told me she would take good care of me….Soon I was rolled to the third floor where I met the team who would fix me. I recall hearing that I was getting happy juice and after a couple breaths in the mask they slid over my mouth I was out. In what seemed like minutes I woke up and it was done. Over. I survived.
Once I was aware enough to grab my phone I had well over 20 messages and texts from family and friends. How great that felt. In the middle of their busy lives they knew what I was going through and took the time to check in. Sharon came to pick me up but the hospital wouldn’t let me go until I peed. Apparently that’s an important function. I didn’t have to go. Tea was ordered by Sharon to help move things along. By the time I had two glasses of water, a glass of cranberry juice, and two glasses of tea, I made my way to the bathroom. Success. Heck, the nurses in the hallway heard me going. It was time to go!
I arrived home and was tucked in, safe and sound. The next day I slept a lot. I was floating in and out of awareness. Now the same day I was having my minor surgery my neighbor Angie was having a mastectomy. Turns out after a routine mammogram cancer was found. Angie and her husband Mitch are great people with two lovely kids. Her surgery was a success and Tuesday we’ll know if they got it all. I pray they did. Even with all that going on in their lives, they touched mine. I woke up yesterday to a note on my fridge (picture posted to the left) and plenty of food. Wow. Sharon has been by to check on me at all hours and calls from family and friends continue. I hope I never take any of you for granted and I’ll be there, for each and every one of you when you need me, maybe even if you think you don’t.
Saw the doctor yesterday and he removed the drain. Ever watch someone pull out a nearly 4 inch long piece of plastic from your scrotum? It was like watching a sword swallower pull his sword out. Ouch is all I can say. He plugged the hole and taped me up. His orders are no sex for a month (really, like that was happening before?) and no exercise for the same time period. Lift nothing over 10 pounds. Weight gain here I come. I’ll be a little sloppy for awhile and will miss out on my annual polar bear dive and 5K. I’m glad I had the surgery. Next time you see me I’ll be a little slimmer below the belt and a bit chunkier above….a pretty good trade off I think.
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