(Sorry about the title; I've been reading the "ICanHasCheezburger" website, and I think the LOLCatSpeak has infiltrated my brain...).
So.
Goals. I do have them.
When I first started training with Coach TieGuy, I achieved my then-current goal pretty quickly--a sub-5:00 3k. And then, once I had that 4:57.57, I started thinking about a 4:52, which was the qualifying time to be allowed to skate in the US Championships. So I focused my training on making that time, and took a trip to Calgary in August (after having not been on the ice for 5 months) to try to make the qualifying time...and did it. Skating in the US Championships that December (2007) in Salt Lake remains one of the high points of my skating career.
Achieving my first couple goals came easily, so I thought "hmm, this skating goal thing is a snap. Decide on a goal, and do it. Simple"
My next goal was to qualify for the Olympic Trials in December of 2009. Initially I thought that achieving this goal was, barring incredibly bad luck, a given--because in a way I already had. The US Championships are, in an Olympic year, the final part of the speedskating Olympic team selection, and the part that people commonly think of as the "Olympic Trials." And I had, of course, already achieved the qualifying time for the US Championships in 2007. I certainly should be able to do it again in 2009. (My goal was simply to skate at the Trials; I would likely be the slowest person there, but just getting there was my goal.)
Well, then US Speedskating lowered the qualifying times for the US Championships/Olympic Trials--by 18 seconds in the 3k, and 13 in the 5k. This put the 3k time completely out of reach for me, but the 5k time--8:02.03--was looking like something to work towards. My second 5k ever, in the 2007 US Championships, was an 8:16, so the qualifying time looked do-able, if challenging. So I started working on lowering my 5k times...just as my thyroid started tanking. My times got slower rather than faster, and things were pretty depressing and frustrating for a couple of years. The 2010 Olympics came and went, and I had come nowhere near the qualifying time for the Trials.
Last year, after my hypothyroidism was diagnosed and treated, I finally had a good season and got Personal Bests in several distances. My big goal last season was to break the Master's World Record in the 5k in my age group--it's 8:29.56, and after I skated a 4:42 3k in Calgary in February, it looked like I should be able to do an 8:15 or so in the 5k in Salt Lake a couple of days later. But I ended up having the worst race of my life (friends have since told me that, in addition to being sick, my time at altitude--7 days--likely impaired my performance). I ended up with an 8:30.86. (Salt Lake and Calgary are at least 1 second per lap faster than Milwaukee, because of the altitude. For example, my Milwaukee PB in the 3k--7.5 laps--is 4:55, but it's 4:42 at Calgary. So an 8:30 5k in Milwaukee is cause for celebration; in Salt Lake, it's cause for despair)
Soooo....my 8:30.43 on Saturday was just .87 seconds off the record . I'm not upset that I missed the record because it wouldn't have counted anyway--Masters records have to be set at Masters sanctioned meets, and this wasn't one. In fact, there's only one Masters sanctioned 5k for women this year anywhere in North America...the Masters Single Distance race in early January in Milwaukee. So, I'm going on record...my goal for this year is to break the Masters World Record in the 5k in the Women's 45-49 age group.
After that? Well, there is another Olympics coming up in 2014. Maybe...if US Speedskating doesn't lower the qualifying times again...if I stay healthy...if my technique breakthrough continues to evolve and to allow me to skate faster with less effort...well, maybe I'll focus on that 8:02.03 again.
photo by Steve Penland
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Saturday, October 29, 2011
It Just Keeps Getting Better
After my great 3k last weekend, I had it all planned out--I would go down to Milwaukee again the first week in November and try a 5k. I had it all planned out, that is, until I looked at the Time Trial schedule...there were no Time Trials the first weekend of November. In fact, when I looked closely at the schedule I realized that if I wanted to do a 5k in Milwaukee any time before my big race, the Masters Single Distance in early January, it would have to be now, the last weekend in October. I really didn't want to go to Milwaukee two weekends in a row, but what are you gonna do? It would be really dumb to have my first indoor 5k of the year be in my big race.
So I headed to Milwaukee after work on Friday, but I wasn't excited about it. Last week I couldn't wait to go to Milwaukee; I was happy, excited, and looking forward to getting some ice time (and that was even before my races ended up being fantastic). This time...meh. I'd been cranky for most of the week, for no apparent reason (but at my age, one can always conveniently blame fluctuating hormones). As I headed East on the freeway, I actually found myself thinking "What are you doing? You could be at home, sitting on the couch with the Hubster, catching up on DVR'ed episodes of "Top Shot" and commenting on the cute poses the dog assumes when she sleeps." (Yeah, we really know how to party!). So the karma for the weekend was not good.
Even before it became kardeerma.
That's right. I had a car/deer interface.
Fortunately I saw him bounding through the ditch towards the freeway in enough time to start braking--and to start wondering if the moving van behind me could brake as fast as I could. The deer was moving fast and I was slowing, so I hoped he might actually clear my lane safely, but no such luck--I thumped a bit of him with my right front bumper.
I immediately pulled over and got out to inspect the damage. Surprisingly, there was none...just a slightly ajar fog-light-space cover, and a small clump of deer fur (sadly, I don't think the poor deer was as undamaged as my car). So I popped the fog-light cover back in place, got back on the road, and dialed the Hubster (admittedly, with shaking fingers).
Now, the Hubster is a Car Guy, and the health of our vehicles is of paramount importance to him...but still, I was hoping for a slightly different response to my blurted "I just hit a deer."
Something other than "Oh...great."
No "oh my gosh, are you OK?" No "are you hurt?" Dude, I could be sitting here with an antler impaling a vital body part, and you're wondering how much damage I've done to the car?!
Naturally, the remaining three hours of the drive did not go well. I alternated between feeling absolutely horrible that I had hit and likely maimed the poor deer, and nervously scanning the ditch for any of his relatives that might share his suicidal tendencies. And when I did, briefly, forget about deer, I was reminded by seeing another body on the side of the road or, worse, a Deer Smear...100 yards of blood and random lumps of mangled flesh coating my lane. Wisconsin in the fall is not a happy time to be a deer.
Saturday didn't start much better than Friday had ended. By the time I was ready for my 500, I was feeling like the human embodiment of one of those athletic excuse shirts: "My skates feel dull. My skinsuit is too tight. I kicked myself in the ankle. I looked at the finish time for the 500s' and thought it was the start time and almost missed my race."
But I was there to race, excuses notwithstanding...so I checked my skates and found that they were, indeed, sharp. I took off a layer under my skinsuit to allow breathing room. I inspected my ankle and found that it was just bruised, not bloodied. And, due to my compulsion to be horrifically early for everything, I still had plenty of time to get to my race even though I had read the schedule wrong.
And the 500, surprisingly, turned out well. I'm not a sprinter and typically suck at the 500, but this one went OK--a 49.22. I'm quite capable of throwing down a blazing 50-second 500 (for those of you who don't skate, most 12-year-olds are faster than that), and in fact I did just that last October in Milwaukee. So the 49 was good, and I had even blown the final corner, so I know there's more speed available. I've struggled for years to lower my 500 times without much success (even though my other times have improved), so it's nice to feel like maybe my improved technique will finally allow some downward movement in my 500 times.
But I still wasn't feeling hopeful about the 5k. For one thing, there was my pair. Or rather, pairs. There were only 3 of us doing the 5k, so they put us together in a quartet; me solo first, followed by the other two.
Who were both men.
One of them was a young man who I've seen grow up skating in Minnesota, and who is now in college. He's a very nice young man, and I really wasn't looking forward to messing up his race by making him go around me once or twice as he lapped me. The other guy was an unknown, a Roger someone. I asked some fellow skaters if they knew "Roger." At first they looked blank, but then said "OH. Ro-zhay." And they said no more. But I got the impression that Ro-zhay was fast.
So it wasn't looking good.
But then, literally as I was standing on the starting line, an official came up to me and said he was sorry, but they'd need me to skate solo...they didn't have enough people timing to do a quartet.
I didn't think it would be appropriate to kiss him.
So I started the race, thrilled to be the only one on the track. My goal was to achieve around an 8:36 (last year's 5k in October was 8:38), which meant laps between 40 and 41 seconds. I tend to go out a bit too fast, so I really wanted to do a 39 and no faster in my first lap. But, despite relaxing and taking it easy, my first split was...37.
Oops.
But I felt really good and relaxed, so I kept going. Focus on the technique, no "running," nail the corner entries and exits.
And the laps ticked by, incredibly smooth and easy, for the first 7--a 38, then a 39, then 40's. In fact, I felt great until lap 8, with 4 to go. At that point my back got pretty sore and I really had to start working, but the remaining 4 laps were 41's and one 42.
For a final time of 8:30.43.
Wow.
It was, I think, my best 5k since my 8:16 (on fast Salt Lake ice) in 2007. In fact, the first 3k of the 5k was 3 seconds faster than my 3k last weekend, and the 5k time was my second best ever in Milwaukee (and the best was achieved on a day when the "constant tailwind" blowers had been turned on, which they no longer are).
So yeah...agood great day, and another reminder that what happens leading up to a race, for me, often has absolutely no bearing on how the race will go.
(Oh, and Ro-zhay? Turns out he's a Swiss Olympian, and would likely have lapped me at least 3 times in the 5k. Although he was very nice, and shook my hand before the race and managed not to show any dismay at having to race a 48-year-old woman...I think it's best for both of us that I got to skate by myself!)
So I headed to Milwaukee after work on Friday, but I wasn't excited about it. Last week I couldn't wait to go to Milwaukee; I was happy, excited, and looking forward to getting some ice time (and that was even before my races ended up being fantastic). This time...meh. I'd been cranky for most of the week, for no apparent reason (but at my age, one can always conveniently blame fluctuating hormones). As I headed East on the freeway, I actually found myself thinking "What are you doing? You could be at home, sitting on the couch with the Hubster, catching up on DVR'ed episodes of "Top Shot" and commenting on the cute poses the dog assumes when she sleeps." (Yeah, we really know how to party!). So the karma for the weekend was not good.
Even before it became kardeerma.
That's right. I had a car/deer interface.
Fortunately I saw him bounding through the ditch towards the freeway in enough time to start braking--and to start wondering if the moving van behind me could brake as fast as I could. The deer was moving fast and I was slowing, so I hoped he might actually clear my lane safely, but no such luck--I thumped a bit of him with my right front bumper.
I immediately pulled over and got out to inspect the damage. Surprisingly, there was none...just a slightly ajar fog-light-space cover, and a small clump of deer fur (sadly, I don't think the poor deer was as undamaged as my car). So I popped the fog-light cover back in place, got back on the road, and dialed the Hubster (admittedly, with shaking fingers).
Now, the Hubster is a Car Guy, and the health of our vehicles is of paramount importance to him...but still, I was hoping for a slightly different response to my blurted "I just hit a deer."
Something other than "Oh...great."
No "oh my gosh, are you OK?" No "are you hurt?" Dude, I could be sitting here with an antler impaling a vital body part, and you're wondering how much damage I've done to the car?!
Naturally, the remaining three hours of the drive did not go well. I alternated between feeling absolutely horrible that I had hit and likely maimed the poor deer, and nervously scanning the ditch for any of his relatives that might share his suicidal tendencies. And when I did, briefly, forget about deer, I was reminded by seeing another body on the side of the road or, worse, a Deer Smear...100 yards of blood and random lumps of mangled flesh coating my lane. Wisconsin in the fall is not a happy time to be a deer.
Saturday didn't start much better than Friday had ended. By the time I was ready for my 500, I was feeling like the human embodiment of one of those athletic excuse shirts: "My skates feel dull. My skinsuit is too tight. I kicked myself in the ankle. I looked at the finish time for the 500s' and thought it was the start time and almost missed my race."
But I was there to race, excuses notwithstanding...so I checked my skates and found that they were, indeed, sharp. I took off a layer under my skinsuit to allow breathing room. I inspected my ankle and found that it was just bruised, not bloodied. And, due to my compulsion to be horrifically early for everything, I still had plenty of time to get to my race even though I had read the schedule wrong.
And the 500, surprisingly, turned out well. I'm not a sprinter and typically suck at the 500, but this one went OK--a 49.22. I'm quite capable of throwing down a blazing 50-second 500 (for those of you who don't skate, most 12-year-olds are faster than that), and in fact I did just that last October in Milwaukee. So the 49 was good, and I had even blown the final corner, so I know there's more speed available. I've struggled for years to lower my 500 times without much success (even though my other times have improved), so it's nice to feel like maybe my improved technique will finally allow some downward movement in my 500 times.
But I still wasn't feeling hopeful about the 5k. For one thing, there was my pair. Or rather, pairs. There were only 3 of us doing the 5k, so they put us together in a quartet; me solo first, followed by the other two.
Who were both men.
One of them was a young man who I've seen grow up skating in Minnesota, and who is now in college. He's a very nice young man, and I really wasn't looking forward to messing up his race by making him go around me once or twice as he lapped me. The other guy was an unknown, a Roger someone. I asked some fellow skaters if they knew "Roger." At first they looked blank, but then said "OH. Ro-zhay." And they said no more. But I got the impression that Ro-zhay was fast.
So it wasn't looking good.
But then, literally as I was standing on the starting line, an official came up to me and said he was sorry, but they'd need me to skate solo...they didn't have enough people timing to do a quartet.
I didn't think it would be appropriate to kiss him.
So I started the race, thrilled to be the only one on the track. My goal was to achieve around an 8:36 (last year's 5k in October was 8:38), which meant laps between 40 and 41 seconds. I tend to go out a bit too fast, so I really wanted to do a 39 and no faster in my first lap. But, despite relaxing and taking it easy, my first split was...37.
Oops.
But I felt really good and relaxed, so I kept going. Focus on the technique, no "running," nail the corner entries and exits.
And the laps ticked by, incredibly smooth and easy, for the first 7--a 38, then a 39, then 40's. In fact, I felt great until lap 8, with 4 to go. At that point my back got pretty sore and I really had to start working, but the remaining 4 laps were 41's and one 42.
For a final time of 8:30.43.
Wow.
It was, I think, my best 5k since my 8:16 (on fast Salt Lake ice) in 2007. In fact, the first 3k of the 5k was 3 seconds faster than my 3k last weekend, and the 5k time was my second best ever in Milwaukee (and the best was achieved on a day when the "constant tailwind" blowers had been turned on, which they no longer are).
So yeah...a
(Oh, and Ro-zhay? Turns out he's a Swiss Olympian, and would likely have lapped me at least 3 times in the 5k. Although he was very nice, and shook my hand before the race and managed not to show any dismay at having to race a 48-year-old woman...I think it's best for both of us that I got to skate by myself!)
Sunday, October 23, 2011
OMG in MKE
Yesterday's time trials at the Pettit in Milwaukee definitely deserved an "OMG"--the good kind. As I wrote on Friday, after two days of unbelievably good workouts I was anxious to see how my first time trials of the season would go.
And they went fabulously.
OK, so the 1k was a bit shaky. My focus was on maintaining my new technique improvements at race speed, and not devolving back to my usual hack-and-scramble. I'm also trying to "skate off the line" on starts (as opposed to my usual uncoordinated attempt at sprinting, which the Hubster says looks like a Frilled Lizard.)
And they went fabulously.
OK, so the 1k was a bit shaky. My focus was on maintaining my new technique improvements at race speed, and not devolving back to my usual hack-and-scramble. I'm also trying to "skate off the line" on starts (as opposed to my usual uncoordinated attempt at sprinting, which the Hubster says looks like a Frilled Lizard.)
Like this guy.
Picture me with the same upright posture and frantic little steps...but my skinsuit hood fits a bit tighter than his does, I'm not screaming, and I don't climb a tree at the end of the first straightaway...
So anyway, the start went well. Skating off the line enabled me to keep my posture more skater-like and less lizard-like, and my "opener"--the first partial lap of the race--was pretty much my usual time despite the reduced effort and flailing. The first corner, which happens only 50 meters or so after the start and thus not at top speed, wasn't too much of a problem. Exit the corner, snapflingdrive down the first straightaway--yeah, this is feeling pretty good.
And then...corner approaching! Sound the alarm! Woop! Woop! Engage cornering sequence! Damn! Brain not responding! Speed exceeds brain's capacity to process! Left leg recovery stroke not engaged! Abort the mission! Abort the mission!
Well, I didn't actually "abort the mission" by not crossing over at all (as I did in my 1500 meter race in the US Championships in 2007...that was truly an epic fail)...instead, I skated deep into the corner and then initiated a rushed, scrambling crossover step that effectively scrubbed off all the speed I had managed to build in the straight and also didn't allow me to build much speed in the rest of the corner. Rinse and repeat for the remaining laps of the race, and that was how the 1000 meters went.
Still, it was a decent race for me. My time was 2 seconds faster than my 1000 in 2009 (which had been preceded by exactly the same workouts the week before, so the fatigue level should have been similar). Lap times were 36.7 and 37.1, so no big "die" in the second lap. And I achieved the state that always indicates to me that I've skated a 1000 or 1500 hard--the "I can see but my brain isn't processing any visual information" state.
The 3k was my real focus of the day, though. I always consider the 500 and the 1000 to be just a part of my warmup; I am definitely not a sprinter and my times reflect that. So I was anxious to see how the 3k went. Usually my early-season 3k's are around 5:09-5:10; last year I achieved a 5:03 in October, but that was with rest (not hard workouts) before the race, and a good pre-season of workouts. This year, with my lackluster spring and summer and the hard workouts the two days before the race, I figured I'd be happy to replicate 2009's 5:09.
I didn't have a coach on the backstretch to give me my times, but the announcer was doing a nice job of reporting people's splits so I figured I'd be OK. And my friend Mel was racing with me...actually, she was doing a 5k, so when I finished my 7 1/2 laps she'd still have 5 laps to go (insert evil chuckle here). And Mel's dad was going to videotape us, so I'd be able to show Coach TieGuy the race, however it turned out.
The race started off well; the start was a little sketchy, but I settled into skating pretty quickly. A little too quickly, as it turned out; my first lap was a 37.7, which is a bit brisk for me for a 3k in Milwaukee. After that, though, my lap times settled into the more-expected 39-to-low 41 second range (even the second to last lap, where I slipped in a corner and almost crashed). I got a negative split in the last lap, a 40.85, and ended up with a very satisfying 5:05.42. And the race felt good; most corner entries were smooth, I maintained a decent "snapflingdrive" the whole way, and my splits were nice and even. I felt like I was skating, rather than running--in fact, a fellow masters skater, when I questioned him afterwards about whether my technique looked any different, said (with mild surprise), "yeah...yeah, you actually had some weight transfer. And you're bringing your feet all the way together now."
Here's the visual, for anyone who's got a few minutes to kill. I'm the shorter skater in gray; Mel is in green/black.
So it was good. Really good. And now I want to go back to Milwaukee in a week or two and try a 5k.
Oh, and just in the interest of science, I repeated my testing from the drive down, and confirmed that I do, indeed, get 75 Miles Per PopTart. Just in case you were wondering.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Tomorrow Should be Interesting
As I mentioned in my Ode to PopTarts, I had a really good workout yesterday. A really, really good workout. As in, 2 seconds per lap faster than I expected. And I had another really good workout this morning--2 seconds per lap faster than I've ever skated at Milwaukee.
Urban Dictionary does not contain enough profane, colorful expressions of surprise to convey how I felt about those workouts.
I was fully expecting the workouts this weekend to suck. Since I wanted to be able to quantify exactly how much the workouts sucked, I decided to exactly replicate my last Thursday-Friday-Saturday workout/time trial combo from late October, which happened to have occurred in 2009. Being the obsessive little creature that I am, I of course have the exact details--including times for every lap--of the two workouts I did on that weekend, as well as the 1000 meter and 3000 meter time trials I did. Doing those exact same workouts and time trials should, I figured, give me a good idea of how my fitness compares to previous years...and I was not expecting the comparison to be pretty.
But then I skated yesterday, and was blown away by how well it went. And when today went even better, well--I can't wait to see what happens tomorrow.
So what's making the difference? I think it's some technique improvements I've (finally!) been able to make. Why I'm able to execute them now when I haven't been before, I don't know...maybe it's improved flexibility (I've really been working on hips and hamstrings); maybe it's just my hours and hours and hours of skating finally catching up with me. Whatever the reason, I seem to now be able to "skate more like a real skater"--and a faster one, at that.
Basically, this summer I just started trying to really snap my leg at the finish of each push; to "fling" my leg around on the recovery; and to drive my knee forward before setting it down. Hence, I often find myself chanting "snapflingdrive" to myself when skating. But it really seems to make a difference, especially if I really focus on the "fling" (big recovery) with my left leg prior to my first crossover step in the corner...it really seems to make me much faster in the corners. I think this is likely what Coach TieGuy has meant when he's told me, time after time and year after year, to "dive into the corner" (it's a wonder I didn't drive him to drink). And my straightaways are down to 12 strokes (at Milwaukee) versus my previous 16 or so...but I did it by making my recovery bigger and my knee drive more pronounced, both of which take more time and thus slow down my tempo--but which also make for a more powerful stroke. I never wanted to just "slow down my tempo," and TieGuy proved to me many times that just "trying to skate with a lower tempo" only made me slower, which makes sense--reducing the number of strokes without making each stroke more powerful equals less power output. My new improved stroke does seem to provide more power per stroke, though...it feels weird, because I'm going faster and getting tired, but it feels like I'm relaxed when skating, rather than churning madly along in my old bunny on crack style.
So...I'm excited about time trials tomorrow. I don't know how well I'll be able to maintain my "snapflingdrive" at race effort, but I can't wait to find out--and I find myself, for the first time in 6 months, feeling really, really hopeful about the upcoming long track season.
Urban Dictionary does not contain enough profane, colorful expressions of surprise to convey how I felt about those workouts.
I was fully expecting the workouts this weekend to suck. Since I wanted to be able to quantify exactly how much the workouts sucked, I decided to exactly replicate my last Thursday-Friday-Saturday workout/time trial combo from late October, which happened to have occurred in 2009. Being the obsessive little creature that I am, I of course have the exact details--including times for every lap--of the two workouts I did on that weekend, as well as the 1000 meter and 3000 meter time trials I did. Doing those exact same workouts and time trials should, I figured, give me a good idea of how my fitness compares to previous years...and I was not expecting the comparison to be pretty.
But then I skated yesterday, and was blown away by how well it went. And when today went even better, well--I can't wait to see what happens tomorrow.
So what's making the difference? I think it's some technique improvements I've (finally!) been able to make. Why I'm able to execute them now when I haven't been before, I don't know...maybe it's improved flexibility (I've really been working on hips and hamstrings); maybe it's just my hours and hours and hours of skating finally catching up with me. Whatever the reason, I seem to now be able to "skate more like a real skater"--and a faster one, at that.
Basically, this summer I just started trying to really snap my leg at the finish of each push; to "fling" my leg around on the recovery; and to drive my knee forward before setting it down. Hence, I often find myself chanting "snapflingdrive" to myself when skating. But it really seems to make a difference, especially if I really focus on the "fling" (big recovery) with my left leg prior to my first crossover step in the corner...it really seems to make me much faster in the corners. I think this is likely what Coach TieGuy has meant when he's told me, time after time and year after year, to "dive into the corner" (it's a wonder I didn't drive him to drink). And my straightaways are down to 12 strokes (at Milwaukee) versus my previous 16 or so...but I did it by making my recovery bigger and my knee drive more pronounced, both of which take more time and thus slow down my tempo--but which also make for a more powerful stroke. I never wanted to just "slow down my tempo," and TieGuy proved to me many times that just "trying to skate with a lower tempo" only made me slower, which makes sense--reducing the number of strokes without making each stroke more powerful equals less power output. My new improved stroke does seem to provide more power per stroke, though...it feels weird, because I'm going faster and getting tired, but it feels like I'm relaxed when skating, rather than churning madly along in my old bunny on crack style.
So...I'm excited about time trials tomorrow. I don't know how well I'll be able to maintain my "snapflingdrive" at race effort, but I can't wait to find out--and I find myself, for the first time in 6 months, feeling really, really hopeful about the upcoming long track season.
Ode to PopTarts
I love PopTarts.
When we were kids, my sister and I often had PopTarts for breakfast, causing us to be--for likely the first and only time in our somewhat nerdy childhoods--the deeply-envied "cool kids" when we were hanging with our cousins at the cabin. They had oatmeal, we had sugar-frosted sprinkle-bedecked cherry goodness.
Back then, there were only a few flavors of PopTarts (the frosted ones, I mean...I'd eat the "plain" ones once in a while, usually toasted and buttered (!), but the frosted ones were where it was at). Blueberry, strawberry, cherry, and then the radical non-fruit versions--brown sugar cinnamon, chocolate, and my favorite, a tasty one that had chocolate pastry, vanilla filling, and vanilla frosting.
And chocolate sprinkles.
As an adult, I continued to be very fond of PopTarts, even as I learned the horrors of simple sugars and processed carbs, and even as I became more and more aware of my addictive response to same. Finally, though, on April 1, 2000, I decided that something must be done about my ever-growing carb addiction and waistline, and I began a low-carb diet...sadly bidding goodbye to PopTarts, and anything else with sugar, along the way.
Surprisingly, it was quite easy to go sugarfree...much easier than trying to limit my intake. As my grandma used to say, "One bite is too much, and the whole pie is not enough." Much easier to make the decision once to not eat sugar, rather than having to decide over and over again if/how much of something to eat, while my brain and body are screaming "more, you idiot, more!"
So the sugarfree thing was easy...except for PopTarts.
I could turn down fancy desserts, people's homemade specialty cookies, even my own 40th birthday cake at the surprise party the Hubster threw for me (he knew I wouldn't eat any, so he wasn't upset) without a pang.
But PopTarts...PopTarts were hard.
To illustrate just how strong my PopTart addiction is, I give you the story of "The Stand."
"The Stand" is Steven King's novel of the epic battle between good and evil after 99% of the population is wiped out by a germ-warfare version of the flu. Like most Steven King novels, it is filled with death and destruction; decapitation and decomposition (I love Steven King's writing style and "voice;" I just wish he'd pick less gruesome topics!). Anyway, it's a pretty grim story, but for me, the most chilling part in the whole 800 pages came when one of the main characters was having breakfast prior to (if I remember correctly) going out with a crew to help remove dead bodies from homes and bury them. As he sat on the front steps eating his breakfast--a PopTart--he mused that, as soon as the current supply was exhausted, there would be no more PopTarts ever again (the 1% of the population that remained was unlikely to fire up the PopTart factories again, being somewhat busy with their epic struggle between good and evil and all).
Well.
I paused in horror, then re-read the sentence again.
No more PopTarts.
Ever.
I think my heart skipped a beat.
So you can see why my own self-imposed PopTart ban was not easy. And it became more difficult over the years, as Kellog's added fancy new flavors (Pumpkin Pie PopTarts in the fall! S'mores! Hot Fudge Sundae!), and began packaging them in two-packs for sale in gas stations and vending machines--including the vending machine at the oval. It was bad enough to watch the little kids munching PopTarts between races on Saturday mornings, but the worst was the day when Coach TieGuy (who eats about once a month, I think) showed up at practice eating PopTarts.
"As if the 6x5K isn't torture enough," I said, "you've gotta eat PopTarts in front of me, too?!"
Well, the wheels started to come off the sugarfree wagon about a year ago. Yes, that's right--I was sugarfree for over 10 years, and yes, I counted the days/weeks/months/years just like a recovering alcoholic. I had my own definition of "sugarfree," of course--I didn't worry about sugar in things like salad dressing or even barbecue sauce, because those didn't seem to fire my cravings. But anything with major amounts of sugar was out: cookies, cake, pie, ice cream, muffins, cereal, candy, granola bars. And, of course, PopTarts.
Now, the only reason I was able to exist in this sugarfree state was because of artificial sweetners. I have a huge sweet tooth and it didn't (as some people in the low carb world predicted it might) go away when I stopped eating sugar. So it soon became clear that I either needed to find sugarfree versions of cookies and whatnot, or I was going to dive back into the sugar.
So I discovered the joys of Splenda and sugar alcohols (it's a class of artificial sweetners, not a drink), and went merrily about my way eating sugarfree cookies and candy and ice cream, and occasionally thinking longing thoughts about PopTarts.
Until October of 2010, when I decided to do a trial of eating gluten-free, to see if that would alleviate some chronic stomach pain I'd been having (and which my doctors, when I mentioned it to them on visits for other things, didn't seem to think was worth investigating). The problem with gluten free, though, is that it's almost impossible to find gluten free/sugarfree stuff.
So, I gradually started eating things with more sugar in them. Things still might have been OK, because I went back to gluten after 8 months--since my stomach pain came back while I was still religously gluten-free--and I happily went back to my storebought and homemade sugarfree goodies. Until, that is, I went to a new doctor about my thyroid issues.
"Do you eat a lot of Splenda?" she asked.
Hmm, well, considering that I used to go to Canada to buy it before it was approved for sale in the US, and considering that I've used it multiple times a day for the last 10 years...I guess I'd have to answer that with a "yes."
Well, turns out Splenda inhibits thyroid function. Lord knows I don't need to do that, so I immediately quit the Splenda--or so I thought. I did discover, 2 weeks into my self-imposed Splenda ban, that Diet Dew contains Splenda, so then I had to quit that, too. As well as pretty much every sugarfree treat that I've bought or made over the past 11 years. So you can see why it wasn't long before I began pushing the envelope of "sugarfree." And last Sunday, I finally caved completely...after my dryland workout, I had PopTarts. Brown Sugar Cinnamon PopTarts.
You know how sometimes, things taste better in your memory or in anticipation than they do when you actually eat them? Well, this was not the case with PopTarts; they were exactly as tasty as I remembered.
So I tried the blueberry the next day.
They, too, were fabulous, and clearly the sugarfree dam has broken. So when I headed down to Milwaukee on Thursday for a weekend of skating at the Pettit, I was pretty sure the drive would be enhanced by some junk food...you know, maybe a PopTart or something.
Remember that old commercial that asked "how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?" Well, I don't know the answer to that, but I do know how many PopTarts it takes to drive from Minneapolis to Milwaukee.
Four.
When we were kids, my sister and I often had PopTarts for breakfast, causing us to be--for likely the first and only time in our somewhat nerdy childhoods--the deeply-envied "cool kids" when we were hanging with our cousins at the cabin. They had oatmeal, we had sugar-frosted sprinkle-bedecked cherry goodness.
Back then, there were only a few flavors of PopTarts (the frosted ones, I mean...I'd eat the "plain" ones once in a while, usually toasted and buttered (!), but the frosted ones were where it was at). Blueberry, strawberry, cherry, and then the radical non-fruit versions--brown sugar cinnamon, chocolate, and my favorite, a tasty one that had chocolate pastry, vanilla filling, and vanilla frosting.
And chocolate sprinkles.
As an adult, I continued to be very fond of PopTarts, even as I learned the horrors of simple sugars and processed carbs, and even as I became more and more aware of my addictive response to same. Finally, though, on April 1, 2000, I decided that something must be done about my ever-growing carb addiction and waistline, and I began a low-carb diet...sadly bidding goodbye to PopTarts, and anything else with sugar, along the way.
Surprisingly, it was quite easy to go sugarfree...much easier than trying to limit my intake. As my grandma used to say, "One bite is too much, and the whole pie is not enough." Much easier to make the decision once to not eat sugar, rather than having to decide over and over again if/how much of something to eat, while my brain and body are screaming "more, you idiot, more!"
So the sugarfree thing was easy...except for PopTarts.
I could turn down fancy desserts, people's homemade specialty cookies, even my own 40th birthday cake at the surprise party the Hubster threw for me (he knew I wouldn't eat any, so he wasn't upset) without a pang.
But PopTarts...PopTarts were hard.
To illustrate just how strong my PopTart addiction is, I give you the story of "The Stand."
"The Stand" is Steven King's novel of the epic battle between good and evil after 99% of the population is wiped out by a germ-warfare version of the flu. Like most Steven King novels, it is filled with death and destruction; decapitation and decomposition (I love Steven King's writing style and "voice;" I just wish he'd pick less gruesome topics!). Anyway, it's a pretty grim story, but for me, the most chilling part in the whole 800 pages came when one of the main characters was having breakfast prior to (if I remember correctly) going out with a crew to help remove dead bodies from homes and bury them. As he sat on the front steps eating his breakfast--a PopTart--he mused that, as soon as the current supply was exhausted, there would be no more PopTarts ever again (the 1% of the population that remained was unlikely to fire up the PopTart factories again, being somewhat busy with their epic struggle between good and evil and all).
Well.
I paused in horror, then re-read the sentence again.
No more PopTarts.
Ever.
I think my heart skipped a beat.
So you can see why my own self-imposed PopTart ban was not easy. And it became more difficult over the years, as Kellog's added fancy new flavors (Pumpkin Pie PopTarts in the fall! S'mores! Hot Fudge Sundae!), and began packaging them in two-packs for sale in gas stations and vending machines--including the vending machine at the oval. It was bad enough to watch the little kids munching PopTarts between races on Saturday mornings, but the worst was the day when Coach TieGuy (who eats about once a month, I think) showed up at practice eating PopTarts.
"As if the 6x5K isn't torture enough," I said, "you've gotta eat PopTarts in front of me, too?!"
Well, the wheels started to come off the sugarfree wagon about a year ago. Yes, that's right--I was sugarfree for over 10 years, and yes, I counted the days/weeks/months/years just like a recovering alcoholic. I had my own definition of "sugarfree," of course--I didn't worry about sugar in things like salad dressing or even barbecue sauce, because those didn't seem to fire my cravings. But anything with major amounts of sugar was out: cookies, cake, pie, ice cream, muffins, cereal, candy, granola bars. And, of course, PopTarts.
Now, the only reason I was able to exist in this sugarfree state was because of artificial sweetners. I have a huge sweet tooth and it didn't (as some people in the low carb world predicted it might) go away when I stopped eating sugar. So it soon became clear that I either needed to find sugarfree versions of cookies and whatnot, or I was going to dive back into the sugar.
So I discovered the joys of Splenda and sugar alcohols (it's a class of artificial sweetners, not a drink), and went merrily about my way eating sugarfree cookies and candy and ice cream, and occasionally thinking longing thoughts about PopTarts.
Until October of 2010, when I decided to do a trial of eating gluten-free, to see if that would alleviate some chronic stomach pain I'd been having (and which my doctors, when I mentioned it to them on visits for other things, didn't seem to think was worth investigating). The problem with gluten free, though, is that it's almost impossible to find gluten free/sugarfree stuff.
So, I gradually started eating things with more sugar in them. Things still might have been OK, because I went back to gluten after 8 months--since my stomach pain came back while I was still religously gluten-free--and I happily went back to my storebought and homemade sugarfree goodies. Until, that is, I went to a new doctor about my thyroid issues.
"Do you eat a lot of Splenda?" she asked.
Hmm, well, considering that I used to go to Canada to buy it before it was approved for sale in the US, and considering that I've used it multiple times a day for the last 10 years...I guess I'd have to answer that with a "yes."
Well, turns out Splenda inhibits thyroid function. Lord knows I don't need to do that, so I immediately quit the Splenda--or so I thought. I did discover, 2 weeks into my self-imposed Splenda ban, that Diet Dew contains Splenda, so then I had to quit that, too. As well as pretty much every sugarfree treat that I've bought or made over the past 11 years. So you can see why it wasn't long before I began pushing the envelope of "sugarfree." And last Sunday, I finally caved completely...after my dryland workout, I had PopTarts. Brown Sugar Cinnamon PopTarts.
You know how sometimes, things taste better in your memory or in anticipation than they do when you actually eat them? Well, this was not the case with PopTarts; they were exactly as tasty as I remembered.
So I tried the blueberry the next day.
They, too, were fabulous, and clearly the sugarfree dam has broken. So when I headed down to Milwaukee on Thursday for a weekend of skating at the Pettit, I was pretty sure the drive would be enhanced by some junk food...you know, maybe a PopTart or something.
Remember that old commercial that asked "how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?" Well, I don't know the answer to that, but I do know how many PopTarts it takes to drive from Minneapolis to Milwaukee.
Four.
That's 75 MPP (Miles Per PopTart), for those of you keeping track.
Actually, it took 4 PopTarts, 3 McDonald's chicken strips, a diet coke, a diet Dew (I figure, how much Splenda can there be in one diet Dew?), and a cinnamon roll.
Did I mention that I have an obsessive, all-or-nothing personality?
Anyway, when finished my drive and waddled walked into the oval, feeling well-sugared and caffeinated and still a bit full, I wondered how the workout would go. I didn't have high hopes anyway, even without the sugar binge, because of my generally poor spring and summer of workouts, and the mysterious left leg pains I've had the past couple weeks.
So I got on the ice--and had one of the best workouts I've had in the past 5 years. Seriously, it had to be top 5. Lap times 2 seconds better than any Milwaukee workout I've done before, and I felt great.
Now, I know it wasn't the sugar...I've gotten some things to "click," technically, this summer, and I guess they transferred well to ice. But apparently the PopTarts et. al. didn't interfere with the workout, either, which is actually kind of unfortunate...I'm afraid that "good workout" is now linked in my mind with "eat PopTarts"--and there are a lot of tasty-looking varieties out there that I haven't tried yet!
Friday, October 14, 2011
Motivation
The long track life has been frustrating lately.
After last Monday's 5 minutes of dryland, I skated my last oval inline workout of the season on Wednesday. I was supposed to do 4x8 minutes, but Coach TieGuy reduced it (after I whined a bit over the phone) to 4x4 minutes because I'd been sick for two weeks with what turned out to be a sinus infection. The skating workout was OK, if slow; it was 87 degrees that day--insanely hot for Minnesota October weather--but fortunately the heat didn't bring out the skateboarders like it usually does, so I had a SkatePunk-free workout, which was a refreshing change. On Thursday, I did a whopping 10 minutes of dryland, which didn't feel too bad. Between the improving dryland workouts and the nice antibiotic I was on last week, I figured that things might be looking up.
Not so. After a lovely, workout-free weekend at the cabin with my best friend from college, the Hubster, my brother-in-law Sherpa Boy, and my dog Keira (a strange but quite enjoyable mix of people/animals), I was ready to tackle the whole 43.5 minutes of down time in Monday's workout.
After last Monday's 5 minutes of dryland, I skated my last oval inline workout of the season on Wednesday. I was supposed to do 4x8 minutes, but Coach TieGuy reduced it (after I whined a bit over the phone) to 4x4 minutes because I'd been sick for two weeks with what turned out to be a sinus infection. The skating workout was OK, if slow; it was 87 degrees that day--insanely hot for Minnesota October weather--but fortunately the heat didn't bring out the skateboarders like it usually does, so I had a SkatePunk-free workout, which was a refreshing change. On Thursday, I did a whopping 10 minutes of dryland, which didn't feel too bad. Between the improving dryland workouts and the nice antibiotic I was on last week, I figured that things might be looking up.
Not so. After a lovely, workout-free weekend at the cabin with my best friend from college, the Hubster, my brother-in-law Sherpa Boy, and my dog Keira (a strange but quite enjoyable mix of people/animals), I was ready to tackle the whole 43.5 minutes of down time in Monday's workout.
Here's me and Keira on our only "workout" of the weekend, a walk at Oberg Mountain.
Keira photobombs appreciates one of the nine scenic overlooks.
Anyway, I was all fired up for Monday's workout (or as fired up as I ever get about dryland, anyway). I was planning to do the workout in the track around the indoor hockey rink at the high school in the district where I teach. It's cold, and loud, but I prefer doing my dryland on a smooth surface, and in the company of people who don't stare when I dryskate (high school hockey players are much better at ignoring old speedskaters hopping crazily about than are the folks in the park across the road from my house, which is my other smooth-surface location).
So I changed, walked past the weight room full of grunting high school boys and preening high school girls, and stepped into the hockey arena.
The first fly in the ointment was the music. The hockey team often has music--LOUD music--playing when they practice, so I was expecting to not be able to use my iPod (dryland workouts and trail skates are the only time I use the iPod--a first-generation Shuffle that still has scuffs on it from my rotator-cuff-tearing crash a couple of years ago). Last time I did dryland in the hockey arena, though, the music was good; I wasn't familiar with a lot of it, but it was good "beat yourself to a pulp" music.
Not so this time. This time, the hockey lads were apparently channeling their inner Old Farts, because the music was all 70's-era stuff--AC/DC, Rush, and so on. OK, so I'm pretty much from that era...it doesn't mean I have to like the music!
The music turned out to be the least of my problems, though. My left hamstring had been tight all day at work--although the left adductor pain I had been feeling the previous week was gone--and, when I started my 10 minute warmup jog, the pain moved to my left hip. When I started the dryland, it moved back to the hamstring, then back to the adductor, then back to the hip...kind of a pain Whack-a Mole--I never knew where it would pop up next. It wasn't severe pain, more like pain/weakness combined, but by the third set of dryland exercises it was quite clear that I would not be doing the whole 43.5 minutes. I ended up quitting after 22 minutes of downtime, hobbled my way through a 20 minute cooldown walk/run, and then drove home in disgust.
Wednesday called for a skate at the RollerDome--in Minnesota, we get to inline skate in the stadium where the Vikings play and the Twins used to play (we skate around the concourse, a 600-meter loop that takes us past bathrooms, beer stands, and brat grills. The onion-mustard smell that lingers the day after a Vikings game can be quite overwhelming). The Dome opened for skating on Wednesday, which was convenient since the Oval had closed on Sunday...but my leg was hurting enough from the dryland that I ended up only doing half of the prescribed workout.
So now it's Friday, and I haven't done Thursday's workout--a running speed workout--because any sort of running/jogging is painful. As is any sort of dryland...which is unfortunate, because running and dryland are 2 of my 3 weekly workouts. Skating is a bit better, but still causes pain. I'm going to Milwaukee to skate next weekend, so I don't want to aggravate any injury I might have before then--but I also need to keep working out because my fitness is already behind where it should be because of the thyroid issues in the spring and early summer, and being sick the last couple of weeks. I really should do a time trial when I'm down in Milwaukee--and I probably will--but I don't think I want to get objective evidence of how I'm doing right now. Usually I really look forward to the first time trial of the season, because I expect to see some improvement from the previous year's early-season times...but this time I think it's likely that I'll get some pretty depressing results.
So far, this season (staring in April) has been the worst I've ever had, even worse than the two years when I was apparently becoming hypothyroid but was not yet diagnosed. I've struggled more with completing workouts, skated more slowly, and missed more workouts than I have since I re-started skating in 2001. It sucks. Earlier in the season, when I realized that I was hypo again and my meds needed readjusting, I decided that I should do everything peripheral to working out as as diligently as possible. That way, the hypothyroid-induced bad workouts wouldn't be compounded by bad diet or lack of stretching.
It was a good plan, but there's just one flaw. I, like most people, I think, am motivated more by success than by failure. There may be some people out there who, when they fail or when things are going poorly, can say "well, that sucked, but it sure makes me want to work harder next time." Most of us are more likely to become discouraged and to have a harder time remaining focused on the goal and working hard if we fail than if we experience some success. I do some work as a behavior analyst at school, and I always emphasize to teachers that they need to build on a child's success--even if that means modifying an assignment so the student can complete it successfully--rather than use failure as a motivator. The trouble is, when I'm skating slower in a workout than I was last year, there's no way to modify the workout such that I can be "successful." I know the workouts aren't at the level that they've been in past years, which I'm assuming means that the first time trial won't be at the level of past years, which I'm assuming means that the races this winter will not be at the level of past years.
Which, of course, means that I'm having a hard time remaining motivated to do all the peripheral stuff, the diet and the stretching and whatnot (I even had a Diet Dew today, after quitting it a couple months ago after discovering that the sucralose (Splenda) in it may be bad for thyroid function). I need some success to build on, and I'm afraid that may not be happening at my first time trial next weekend.
So I need to change my mindset. I need to remind myself that I love skating. That it's the best time of the year,with the whole winter season fast approaching. And that my technique feels like I've made some big improvements this summer. I need to forget about how I've done in past years, and to just do the time trials next weekend, take the times as my starting point, and work towards lowering those times rather than comparing them to previous year's times. I need to just enjoy the excitement of the upcoming long track season without letting the frustration of a bad pre-season get in the way.
I'll let you know how it goes...
Thursday, October 6, 2011
I started dryland again this week. Every spring and fall, when the oval is closed for skating, I need to do dryland as my main workout. Last time I did dryland after a layoff, in June, I failed to take into account how unaccustomed to a particular activity the middle-aged body can become. As a consequence, I hobbled around in pain for several days.
So this time, I thought I'd be smart. My workout called for 36 minutes of "down time." Now, to a speedskater, "down time" is not a restful term (as in, "Wow, work is really stressful right now. I need some down time."). No, to a speedskater, "down time" means "the total amount of minutes spent squatting in a position that one would be very familiar with, should one be in a place that equates "hole in the floor" with "toilet." (OK, well, we're not really that low, but you get the picture).
So, 36 minutes of down time. Thirty-six minutes of down time isn't a huge workout (my longest ones are 50 minutes), but it's an insane amount to jump back into after a layoff (never mind that I used to do it, 5 years ago...5 years is a long time in the life of an aging athlete!). Last time I started up the dryland again I discovered that even15 minutes was too long. So this time, I decided on five.
Five measly minutes of exercise: one minute of dryskate (going through the skating motion in shoes); one minute of squats (up-and-down, with no weights); one minute of Karlstads (a tricky little maneuver involving balancing on one leg in a squat, jumping up on that leg, landing on the leg, and then immediately jumping onto the other leg--it's guaranteed to make me look extremely uncoordinated); one minute of baby steps (assuming the squat position and then moving forward with, well, baby steps); and one more minute of dryskate.
Five minutes.
And still, the next day, bits of me were aflame. True, not as bad as last time--last time I had the full-on "hot, itchy, sticky, excruciating" muscle pain. This time it was just moderate soreness, just enough to make me wince every time I sat down. Unfortunately, the pain was mostly on the left side--left glute, left adductor. I say "unfortunately" because, since none of the exercises I did were asymmetrical, the predominance of left-side pain meant that I've been neglecting my physical therapy exercises again.
I go to PT TieGuy (Coach TieGuy's brother, and yes, they're both physical therapists) for therapy on my chronic left-side low back injury. Apparently the back dysfunction will (if I neglect my exercises) cause my left glute not to "fire," which leads to all sorts of bad things. Seems I spent a lot of time, pre-treatment, with the left side of my butt not really functioning.
That's right; I was doing my skating and dryland workouts half-assed.
And it seems I must be half-assed again, judging from the left-side pain. I need to start doing all those PT exercises again, and get back in to see PT TieGuy. In the meantime, though, I've got more dryland workouts to do. Dryland workouts are no fun; unlike skating, there's no thrill of speed, no satisfaction of feeling the technique come together, however briefly; no lap times to focus on and obsess over. Just endless, painful, silly-looking exercises--which are, unfortunately, quite good at improving the strength of exactly the muscles one needs for skating.
Dryland even looks unpleasant. My favorite dryland memory is of the time, several years ago, that I was doing a lengthy dryland workout at the oval. As I was doing a 3-minute set of squats, a woman came out of the oval building and approached Coach TieGuy to ask if she could borrow his phone. As he handed over his phone and explained its use, I continued my relentless up-down up-down up-down. The woman kept glancing from the phone to me and then back to the phone again with an increasingly concerned look on her face. Finally, she leaned closer to TieGuy and said, in a hushed tone, "Is that person being punished?"
So...five more weeks of "punishment," and it's back on the ice!
So this time, I thought I'd be smart. My workout called for 36 minutes of "down time." Now, to a speedskater, "down time" is not a restful term (as in, "Wow, work is really stressful right now. I need some down time."). No, to a speedskater, "down time" means "the total amount of minutes spent squatting in a position that one would be very familiar with, should one be in a place that equates "hole in the floor" with "toilet." (OK, well, we're not really that low, but you get the picture).
So, 36 minutes of down time. Thirty-six minutes of down time isn't a huge workout (my longest ones are 50 minutes), but it's an insane amount to jump back into after a layoff (never mind that I used to do it, 5 years ago...5 years is a long time in the life of an aging athlete!). Last time I started up the dryland again I discovered that even15 minutes was too long. So this time, I decided on five.
Five measly minutes of exercise: one minute of dryskate (going through the skating motion in shoes); one minute of squats (up-and-down, with no weights); one minute of Karlstads (a tricky little maneuver involving balancing on one leg in a squat, jumping up on that leg, landing on the leg, and then immediately jumping onto the other leg--it's guaranteed to make me look extremely uncoordinated); one minute of baby steps (assuming the squat position and then moving forward with, well, baby steps); and one more minute of dryskate.
Five minutes.
And still, the next day, bits of me were aflame. True, not as bad as last time--last time I had the full-on "hot, itchy, sticky, excruciating" muscle pain. This time it was just moderate soreness, just enough to make me wince every time I sat down. Unfortunately, the pain was mostly on the left side--left glute, left adductor. I say "unfortunately" because, since none of the exercises I did were asymmetrical, the predominance of left-side pain meant that I've been neglecting my physical therapy exercises again.
I go to PT TieGuy (Coach TieGuy's brother, and yes, they're both physical therapists) for therapy on my chronic left-side low back injury. Apparently the back dysfunction will (if I neglect my exercises) cause my left glute not to "fire," which leads to all sorts of bad things. Seems I spent a lot of time, pre-treatment, with the left side of my butt not really functioning.
That's right; I was doing my skating and dryland workouts half-assed.
And it seems I must be half-assed again, judging from the left-side pain. I need to start doing all those PT exercises again, and get back in to see PT TieGuy. In the meantime, though, I've got more dryland workouts to do. Dryland workouts are no fun; unlike skating, there's no thrill of speed, no satisfaction of feeling the technique come together, however briefly; no lap times to focus on and obsess over. Just endless, painful, silly-looking exercises--which are, unfortunately, quite good at improving the strength of exactly the muscles one needs for skating.
Dryland even looks unpleasant. My favorite dryland memory is of the time, several years ago, that I was doing a lengthy dryland workout at the oval. As I was doing a 3-minute set of squats, a woman came out of the oval building and approached Coach TieGuy to ask if she could borrow his phone. As he handed over his phone and explained its use, I continued my relentless up-down up-down up-down. The woman kept glancing from the phone to me and then back to the phone again with an increasingly concerned look on her face. Finally, she leaned closer to TieGuy and said, in a hushed tone, "Is that person being punished?"
So...five more weeks of "punishment," and it's back on the ice!
Sunday, October 2, 2011
A Few Random Things...
...because I'm too tired to form a coherent post.
- Winter must be approaching. My feet were cold twice yesterday (I know it's Minnesota, but it's only October!). The first time was when I skated my workout yesterday morning...in shorts...in the 43 degree sunshine. The second was when I went to watch the women's broomball team that the Hubster coaches (I played broomball for over 20 years, until I hurt my back. The back injury is what got me back into speedskating again in 2001, after a few years off, so I can't complain. I CAN complain about the ice arena, though...it was COLD in there!)
- I think I have my Annual Fall Sinus Infection. I'm leaning towards that as the reason (not excuse, reason) that I only did a quarter of my workout this morning.
- Well, that and my leg pain are the reasons. Not sure what's going on with the leg; I'll have to run the symptoms by Coach TieGuy--who is a Physical Therapist in real life--and see what's up. Yesterday the leg hurt after I skated but not during; today it hurt during but not after. I like to be unpredictable.
- I had fun this weekend meeting a new master's skater from Iowa. He and his wife were at the oval both mornings. It's always fun to talk to new people and to encourage them; I remember being new and somewhat intimidated, and always looking for helpful tips, so I always try to help out new skaters (I also met a new masters skater on the ice in Milwaukee when I was down there a couple of weeks ago, and sharpened his skates for him). I'm always a bit concerned about giving people technical advice, though...despite having been on the receiving end of hundreds of hours of excellent coaching by TieGuy, I'm not that good at figuring out what other people need to work on. There's a talent to figuring out which technical issues to tackle first--which ones will, if corrected, automatically correct other issues--and it's a talent I definitely lack. I just hope I don't steer people in the wrong direction!
- I didn't make it to Milwaukee this weekend for the first Time Trials of the season; being sick and having a ton of stuff to do for work made it seem like a bad idea. My friend Melissa did her first 5k, though, and did awesome! I like to think that her doing the TieGuy-planned workouts with me this summer helped (my main focus this year is the 5k, so the workouts were designed to maximize performance in that distance).
- You know how they say people and their pets look alike? Well, Keira and I apparently share clumsiness...she did a complete somersault at the dog park the other day, when she sprinted at top speed off the mowed trail and into the tall grass. All I saw was random dog bits flying up above the grass--tail, leg, leg, head, tail, head. Fortunately she was OK, if a bit grass-stained.
- My technique is feeling pretty good, but my lap times are horrendous (although worse when I venture back into the old technique, so I know that the new technique is not the problem). I feel horribly out of shape--I'm hoping it's just the sinus infection slowing me down. In the past, I've had more fitness than technique; right now, I appear to have more technique than fitness. It would be nice if the two could get together sometime...
- I need a nap and possibly some more Sudafed...
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