Why do we fall, Bruce? So we can learn to pick ourselves up...

Joy here…In my last post I was full of enthusiasm and getting back out there and into the swing of things, both on my bike and in my running shoes.  I was going to the gym every Tuesday and Thursday for a whopping dose of strength training, and I was building back some fitness running so that I don't have a heart attack and die on Sunday when I head out for my first 10km run in 3 years this coming Saturday.

Then, well, I fell.

On my toe, to be precise.

Ouch!!!!

Back in 2012 I fractured my baby toe, and that put an end to my marathon training goals.  The silver lining in that escapade is that I took up bike racing, and had a heck of a fun season of cycling time trials during the summer of 2012, culminating in a 6th place finish in my category at the Ontario provincial event.

But that was a year ago, and now I'm just getting back into the swing of things workout wise, and I was NOT keen on another broken toe derailing me.

The good news is that the toe isn't broken and is mending nicely.

But the bad news is that as my toe began to heal, I got one whopper of a chest cold.  I'm talking about coughing up gross phlegm and everything.  So even as my toe felt better and better, like I could get out there and run on it, my chest cold was telling me a very different story.

The long and the short of all this is that aside from some strength training, I've done a whole lot of not much.

But today I got out there for a Saturday morning right to pick myself back up and dust myself off.

And what a day…

Beautiful Morning!

So I rode my little heart out, coughing ever so slightly every now and then, as I rode up the hill close to where we live in Malaysia.  The weather was lovely (around 25C) and we could hear the ever-elusive gibbons calling to each other in the trees as we rode by.

Granted, my legs were heavy, my toe hurt slightly, my breathing was laboured, and I was slower than when I last rode this hill…BUUUUUTTTTT at least I was out there doing it.  

And I'll be out there again tomorrow morning bright and early.

Over and out,

Joy

Fallow Field

Joy here...Okay, I'm sick to death of the fact that my latest posts have been about me whining and whinging about not being in shape or not hitting my workouts.

Me climbing up the 15km hill.

Ugh.  What a bore!

So the good news is that I've changed all that, and I've got a solid week of workouts under my belt (more on that below).

But now that I've gotten off the couch and gotten back into the swing of things, I have a moment to reflect on my month(s) of lethargy.  You see, I had a similar moment when I was doing my Ph.D.  In fact, a friend of mine was visiting Ottawa, and I can't remember if I had actually finished my Ph.D. at that point or was just close (it's all a bit of a blur, really), but this friend was still in the painful throes of hers.  And one of the roadway passes that she had to drive by to get from Toronto where she was finishing her dissertation to Ottawa where we lived was called "Fallow Field Road."  So we were chatting about the concept of the
fallow field.  As the descendent of generations and generations of peasant farmers, it is in my blood to know all about leaving a field fallow.  Basically you leave a field unseeded during the growing season so that it can renew itself and produce a better yield in the following year.  As my friend and I talked about the concept of the fallow field, we talked about it in relation to academic work and the necessity to take some "down time" from hard thinking and writing in order to just lay fallow for a while.  And while it is necessary to do this in order to be able to yield greater crops - i.e. have better ideas and produce more writing - it takes a while to have the maturity and perspective not to freak the freak out during those unproductive, "fallow" times.  Now I've been working in the thinking industry for some time now, so I don't freak out so much when I have "fallow" times with respect to my writing or thinking work.  I know enough to know that I'll have some down time, and get right back at it, refreshed and better, when I'm good and ready for it.

The Man hitting the speed bag at the gym.

But I guess I'm still new at this whole running/cycling/fitness thing to have the kind of maturity necessary to see the need for some "fallow" time with respect to sport too.  It's not just about refreshing my body, but also refreshing my mind.  I really don't think that people can sustain a "training" mentality solidly without taking some down time.

Now for me, I didn't really hit my training objectives this year, so I figured that I wouldn't need any down time.

But the truth of the matter is that whether or not I hit my training goals (which I didn't), I was still thinking about them and beating myself up about not making my training objectives or hitting my workouts.  As a result, I was still mentally drained and getting more and more drained with each passing missed workout.  The farther I got off my plan, the harder it became to get back on the plan.

And then in my last post I had some hard thoughts about whether or not I can even be coach-able.

Beautiful early morning cycling scenery!

Then I talked to my coach on FaceTime, and told him the truth of the matter.  I told him that I'd let myself go; I told him that I'd missed my workouts; I told him that I felt like a sack of potatoes; I told him that I was having motivation issues; I told him that I wanted to get back into the swing of things but didn't know how...

And he told me to take a deep breath and that he'd make a super easy, super conservative plan for me for the week just to get myself moving.  And most importantly, he told me that this is supposed to be fun.

I had forgotten the fun aspect of training.

How silly is that?

So with that crazy idea of FUN in my head, I got out the door and completed 3 runs, 2 strength sets at the gym, and 2 bike rides this week!  I ran into the sunset, dead lifted 50kgs, and met some new cycling friends.  I laughed as I cornered at 53km/hr going downhill on a hot Sunday morning on my bike.  I felt like a hero as I knocked off my little 5km run.  I grunted like a weight lifter at the gym.  And through it all I had fun.

That fallow field just might be starting to yield crops again!

Me doing some bicep curls at the gym!

Watch out...I may just be baaaaaack,
Over and out,
Joy

This past week's workout stats:
Monday:  day off (had a heart-to-heart with my coach)
Tuesday:  90 minute bike ride up the 15km hill and back again & 90 minute strength training
Wednesday:  20 minute run (approx. 3kms)
Thursday:  90 minute strength training
Friday:  day off
Saturday:  30 minute run (approx. 5kms)
Sunday:  90 minute bike ride up the 15km hill and back again
Monday:  20 minute run (approx. 3kms)

Some thoughts on Coach-ability

Joy here...Back in 2010 I started up a running blog with my running buddy, Nomi, East and West Running, and for two years we wrote updates on our running training as we improved from being running nobodys to completing half marathons (me) and marathons (her).  Our blog was mostly upbeat as we improved and set ourselves new challenges.

Then in 2012 I got more into cycling, and Nomi lost interest in blogging (especially since some knee pain had sidelined her running for a while), so we put our co-written blog to bed, and I branched into my own little sporting blog, this one here.

I got myself a cycling coach, and then in short order I got myself a running coach.  I had visions of being a supreme athlete, and this blog would be a place where I'd be able to chart my successes.

But life has a funny way of dealing with hubris.  As with each passing day, as commitment issues, scheduling conflicts, and the insanity of life derailed my sporting plans one by one, I resisted the temptation to allow this blog to simply become a catalogue of my complaints (and I apologize now for the whinging that has needled its way into so many of my posts as of late).  But if I wasn't hitting my workouts, what the heck would I write about?  If I wasn't charting pace and distance, what the heck would I chart?

I ended up letting my cycling coach go after admitting that I just really didn't have the heart to commit to racing my bike.  With my life up in the air, too much travel, and too many other obligations, I just couldn't commit to the hours on my bike necessary to be really competitive.  Now my bike sits, resting against the wall, calling plaintively to me, and I will return to it.

Soon.

In the meantime, I'm hanging onto my running coach by the skin of my teeth, and I'm sure he's supremely disappointed in me as he sets up a training plan specifically designed for me, and I'm lucky if I hit any of those tailored workouts.  It must be like a chef slaving over a gourmet meal specifically tailored to someone who then sits there and maybe picks off a grape before leaving the dish untouched. I feel like a failure and an ingrate.

But more than that, I'm grappling with larger questions about my "coachability."  I wonder if all the excuses I have - scheduling, travelling, hosting, busyness, laziness - are all symptoms of a larger condition, my un-coachability.  

You see, I've realized that I'm not the greatest employee.  I have been both a high school English teacher and an English professor, and while I pat myself on the back and think that I was pretty good at both of those jobs, I didn't last too long at either of them.  I was a high school teacher for a total of 2 years, and a prof for a total of 5; my problem was usually that I really like my autonomy a lot and find it really hard to work within someone else's structure.  I know this about myself professionally, which is why I'm self-employed.  I get tonnes done, make my own schedule, get to be my own boss, and balance the things that I want without chaffing against someone else's framework.

Now I'm beginning to wonder if this over-inflated need for autonomy in me as a professional might also be linked to my under-performance as a coach-able athlete.

While The Man is very good at following workouts as outlined by his coaches (he has the same running coach that I do, and he picked up my cycling coach, to the great happiness of both of them). He is extremely coach-able, and always has been.  I admire that about him.  But as I admire many traits in many people that I don't have, I am wondering about what trait it is that I am lacking that has made me be the worst coaching client of all time.

And as I continue to ponder this question - my frustrating un-coach-ability - I will lace up my shoes and head out the door for my first run in what seems like months.

Over and out,
Joy

Dreamscape...

Joy here...I've been having trouble committing to my workouts; I've been letting myself and my coach down; but I'm doing my best to remain positive and keep taking one day at a time.

That is until I had the strangest dream.

You see, we've been hosting guests, and in my dream our guests, us, and other friends of ours were all outside under an evening sky on a wooden patio.  It wasn't a patio that I'm familiar with in my waking life, but as in many dreams, it was a familiar place, and I felt like I was at home.  There was a grassy patch of yard just beyond the patio, and some tropical trees moving softly in the warm evening breeze off in the distance.  A few dogs were frolicking on the lawn, while we mingled on the patio, and the lights from the house beyond cast our shadows long into the yard.  One of the dogs was jumping around and barking franticly.  She is one of our friend's beloved dogs (they have 6), and her name is Julie (pronounced the french way, like Djzulee).  The other dogs (about 3 of them) weren't ones I know in my waking life, but they were friendly, and we were happy to have them on the lawn.  Then suddenly, following Julie's lead, they all rolled on their backs, baring their stomachs to the night sky in positions of utter submission.

Better to run into a sucker like this in a dream than in
real life!

Those of us on the patio looked on in wonder at the strange behaviour, when suddenly, I saw something dark moving in the grass where the prone dogs lay utterly still.  Soon the strange, dark thing on the lawn raised itself up and came at us on the patio with startling speed; we were being attacked by a king cobra, his hood raised.  While everyone ran to the light of the house, I turned and promptly saw out of the corner of my eye, the snake making its way right for me.  It sank its teeth into the flesh of my butt, and I felt excruciating pain as it hung on, and as I crumbled to my knees, I remember shouting for my husband to call the hospital and tell them I've been bitten by a king cobra.

I then awoke, safe and sound in my bed.

My butt was just fine, and the pain, like the dream receded.

Then we took our guest to the zoo, and as we made our way to the reptile house, I cam face to face with a king cobra, separated only by a thin sheet of glass.  He stood up on a branch, holding himself vertical as he stared at me with his cold and unfathomable gaze.  I shuddered and walked on to the next exhibit.

Now I'm not a superstitious person, but I looked up what snakes are supposed to mean for dreamers.  Google tells me that dreaming of being bitten by a snake should serve as a "wake up call" for something, and since I was bitten in my ever-increasing butt, I'm assuming that my kick-in-the-butt wake up call (or rather bite-in-the-butt) is a warning that I need to get back into my workouts.

So I've got a trainer and I've been doing some strength training, core work, and plyometrics, and I'll be back out there running this week ASAP.

Next time, I intend to outrun that cobra!

Over and out,
Joy

Balancing Priorities: Sport and Socializing

Joy here...Well, I've been travelling again, and I've been faced with working out less and being frustrated with myself as a result.  And no matter how many times I throw my hands up in the air and blame my lack of focus and dedication to my workouts on a straightforward lack of time or on scheduling and travelling woes, I can't escape the sinking feeling that really the flaws are mine and mine alone.

Another day, another airport...

And I hate that feeling.

I hate feeling like my failures to appropriately organize and prioritize my time so that I can hit my workouts as planned and be prepared for the next two races (gulp!) that I've signed up for are a reflection of my failings as a person.  But no matter how much I hate feeling like a failure and how much I hate having to face the fact that it's not the big, bad world's fault that I can't seem to be organized enough to work out as planned, I can't escape the fact of my own failings forever.

So I've had to do some tough love with myself lately.

I've had to face the fact that while other people are able to prioritize their workouts, and let other things slide, when it comes to balancing socializing with sport, I choose socializing over sport every time.  You see, I remember when I was in Ottawa, and The Man and I were heading out with some of our running friends for dinner.  One of the girls was late for dinner, and as she showed up - flushed and breathless - she said, "Oh, I'm sorry to be late, I had to fit in my run before coming."  It was no big deal, and we had a great dinner.  But I thought about that, and I think in a similar situation where I had a scheduled run and a dinner planned, I would automatically choose to skip the run and be on time for dinner.  It was a revelation to me to realize that not everyone would make the same choice.  And so I began to see my failures to hit my workouts as a series of choices that I had made, not some result of inevitable scheduling conflicts.

A Caesar and Poutine...my first dinner back in Canada!

You see, I just got back from nearly 2 weeks in Canada; I was there for meetings but had a chance to visit with friends and family as well.  And while I was there, I predictably worked out basically not at all and am now back in Kuala Lumpur with the familiar sinking feeling of coming back from a loss of fitness.  I will have to claw and climb my way out of the hole that I have dug for myself.

And how did I did this hole?

Easily.

Out for my own birthday dinner (cake over a run workout
any day!!)

I chose to visit with friends and family over working out.  Instead of balancing my time and being able to both visit AND work out, I crammed any unscheduled time with visiting.  I found myself going from one friend's house to then heading out to dinner with other friends.  When I had a free moment on my first day back, I could have headed out for a run to loosen up my legs after the plane, but I went to a friend's house for a surprise coffee with her instead. I also found myself rushing home from a meeting to be able to sneak in an afternoon at the zoo with my nephew.  Instead of running early in the morning, I took the wee pre-dawn hours as an opportunity to have a cup of coffee with my sister.  Rather than foregoing the glass of wine with dinner so that I could run afterwards, I relaxed into my evening with my dad and had both wine AND dessert, making any post-dinner workout impossible.  Instead of blocking off time to catch up on workouts, I blocked off time to have some of my high school girlfriends over for brunch.  Rather than taking an afternoon run, I headed to my brother's office to participate in the surprise birthday cake for his 35th birthday.  Or when I could have rushed home from a meeting to sneak in a workout before packing and getting ready for the plane, I rushed over to a friend's house to see her and her 9 month old son one more time before leaving the country.  In each and every instance, I chose socializing over hitting my run workouts.  And the strange thing about all this is that while I recognize in that my utter and complete failure to adequately manage my time and meet my workout goals and responsibilities, I am convinced that I would do the same thing in the same circumstance again.  Even in seeing my culpability here, I wouldn't do anything different.

Hanging out with the nephew, a peacock feather,
and a penguin at the zoo.

While for some people working out is in and of itself a good to be sought, a thing to be protected, and something to be prioritized, I have to admit that socializing comes first for me, and my workouts are always best if they are also social.  As much as I enjoy the meditative feeling of running by myself, I enjoy socializing with others more, so if I'm able to combine my sport with others - like in 2012, the summer of the cycling sisterhood, or 2010 when Nomi and I first learned to run and ran our first ever half marathons - then I'll be a-okay, but if left to myself I'm not entirely sure that I'll always carve out the appropriate time for sport.

Now that I've identified the root of my failing here, I'm not 100% sure what the implications are for my sporting goals - a 10km race in November and another 10km race in December - but I at least have taken a moment to identify and interrogate my own motivations so that I don't always just beat myself up for being a failure when it comes to my workouts.

Wish me luck...and better than that...say you'll come out for a run with me!

Over and out,
Joy

First Bike Ride in a Loooooong Time

Joy here...So at the end of August last summer (2012) I raced in the Ontario provincial Time Trial championships on my bike - placing 6th in my category - and I went into the winter off season thinking that I'd build up fitness and form on my bike and start this new season (2013) with monster cyclist legs like tree trunks, lungs that could inflate a hot air balloon, and mad skills to make people wonder whether or not I was doping.

The cyclist grandson who gets kidnapped in
the fabulous movie The Triplets of Belleville would have
nothing on my awesome cycling physique.

But to misquote Ursula the sea witch from The Little Mermaid:  things were NOT working out according to my ultimate design (see this summary blog post from May if you're curious as to what went wrong).

As I put my plan of becoming a superfit bike racer on the backburner and dusted off my running shoes to get some running fitness back, I just didn't prioritize getting out there on the bike.

The result of that is that I went out for one bike ride in Canada before leaving for Malaysia, and I've done one bike ride since arriving.

But this morning changed all that.

I dusted off my lycra, febreezed my helmet, and wiped off my shoes to get ready to head out the door to ride up a hill that is a favourite amongst Kuala Lumpur cyclists.

I'm not going to lie to you, I was a bit nervous about this decision to hop on a bike and commence climbing up consistently for about an hour, with parts of the climb reaching an incline of 9%.  But I figured that I owed it to myself and my awesome bike to give it a try.

So try is what I did.

The blue sky peeking out, the tall grass, and the trees
beyond, as The Man pauses beside the road
marker that reads "K. Lumpur 38."

But as Yoda says:  "Do or do not. There is no try."  Today, mighty Yoda, I did it!

The morning was around 24C and very humid; soon we started riding our bikes up the climb, with the lush tropical jungle all around us - rising up over the cliffs to our right and dropping off into the ravines to our left - and the blue sky peeking out from watercolour white clouds as the early morning mists began to dissipate across the canopy.  Thick leaves drooped down from high trees, and I felt like I was on the set of Jurassic Park, only this setting is real, full of the smells and sounds of a city built in amidst the jungle.

The first part of the climb wasn't too steep, and I wasn't feeling taxed.  I had to pee like crazy, but other than that, I wasn't uncomfortable.  About 3kms in, my bladder was about to explode, so I parked my bike off to the side, wandered into the jungle, and within about 2meters I couldn't see the road anymore due to the lush greenery.  I dropped my cycling drawers and did the deed, hoping against hope that no snakes would see my big, white moon as a target.

The overpass marking the end of the climb.  See all
the cyclists gathered around?

After emerging unscathed and much relieved, we carried on with our ride, the gradient increasing ever steadily.  When I stopped concentrating on my rhythmic breathing and looked around me, the sights were truly awe inspiring.  This city has some of the most majestic scenery that you could ever hope to see, with old jungle growing tall and proud against red hills and granite cliffs. It makes you feel like you should have David Attenborough narrating in the background.

The climb pitches up steeply just before the end, but then rolls nicely to the finish, which is marked by an overpass; gathered beneath the overpass are many Sunday cyclists, their bikes leaning to the side, their bodies showing the relaxation of achieving their cycling goal for the day.  And as I got within sight of them--dzzzzzzt--I shifted from my easy gear to my big ring and pedalled powerfully towards them, slowing just before dipping down the hill on the other side.

Jurassic Park (you know, minus the dinosaurs)

I turned around and began the switchbacking, winding road down from the peak.  Imagine surfing through an aqua barrel wave, surrounded by an arch of teal water over your head as your board slices almost silently forward through this magical pocket.  Now imagine it faster.  Now imagine that instead of a barrel of water, you're rip-roaring on your bike as green, tropical foliage drapes over you as you hug the side of the road.  If you've imagined that right, then you've probably captured a fraction of the fun I had as I tore down from the top of the climb.

So you know what?  I think I'm gonna do that again.

Over and out,
Joy

Today's Ride Stats:
Rode uphill for 14.88kms for a total elevation increase 484m (about half the total elevation gain in Gatineau Park), and I averaged 15.2km/hr, barely breaking a sweat!  Then I turned around and rip roared down the hill, around the twisty turns, and arrived safely and soundly at the car!

Life is a Highway

Joy here...I really love the metaphor that life is a highway.

I remember some 20 years ago when I was in high school and my friends and I would raise our arms, clapping along (me probably slightly off-beat) and blurting out the lyrics at the top of our lungs (me probably very off-tune) with Tom Cochrane.

But somehow like some guy whose glory days were back in the halls of his high school as he reigned supreme on some varsity team and dated some cheerleader, his life never reaching that pinnacle again, I seem to have forgotten the forward-motion implied in the life is a highway metaphor.

Vintage Joy:  The Highschool Years

You see, I never was a super athlete with all sorts of glory days to fall back on.  But as I grapple with feeling a sense of fitness loss right now, I can't help but think of things in terms of "recapturing" or "getting back" former levels of fitness rather than just an onward trajectory through life.  It's as though on some level I'm thinking well, I used to be fit, so I just need to get back to that fit place.  When, in fact, that's a rather bizarre way to think about life.

If life is a highway, then the metaphor would suggest that as I trundle along, there'll be speed traps, wrong exits, hills, valleys, passing lanes, and toll booths that I will go through all before the day that I close my eyes for good (which is hopefully a long way off).  But thinking about "recapturing" or "getting back" something from the past implies a kind of weird circularity to this highway...more like contrived race track that just goes around and around and around...

Who knows what lies beyond the dark and twisty turns of
life's highway?

And since I truly believe that sport is a metaphor for life, and the lessons it can teach go way beyond how far you might run, how fast you might be, or how your race went.  So as I grapple with my fitness not being exactly where I'd like it to be in the here and now, I'm going to remind myself to resist the temptation of thinking about my past fitness.

Life is a highway, and I might be in the slow lane now, but watch out...I like to go fast!

So if I've not really hit all my run workouts as I would have liked since returning from Australia, well, I'm just going to keep my eyes on the horizon before me as the highway stretches onward!

Over and out,
Joy

PS - Here are my run stats for the last week since our return:
Aug 28: Ran for a total of 18:56 for a distance of 3.09km with an avg. pace of 6:07min/km.
Aug 29: Ran for a total of 15:02 for a distance of 2.5km with an avg. pace of 6:01min/km.
Aug 31: Ran for a total of 30:00 for a distance of 5.1km with an avg. pace of 5:53min/km.
Sept 2: Ran for a total of 20:00 for a distance of 3.2km with an avg. pace of 6:15min/km.
Sept 4: Ran easy for 20 minutes (didn't wear Garmin, so lacking full data)
Sept 5: Ran for a total of 15:17 for a distance of 2.5km with an avg. pace of 6:07min/km.