This summer Austin was host to a Cows on Parade public art project. Normally, I'm a big fan of art in public places, with the exception of giant red metal sculptures, but I was initially vehement in my contempt when the art cows began to appear on sidewalks. Not one to get riled up about much, it was funny for my friends to observe me with the following bones to pick:
A. The cow parade is old news - when I heard about the original cow parade in Chicago a number of years ago, I thought it was brilliant. It seemed like an old idea by now. Insert bad jokes about milking it until the cows come home here.
B. Didn't we just do "Guitar Town" - an Austin, "Live Music Capital of the World" take on the cow parade theme? At least that was an original twist to an old idea.
C. There was at least one other thing bugging me about the cows.
Then I saw one up close as I was leaving Barton Springs one morning. A dad was taking his kids' pictures on it; super cute, OK. Then I discovered the title of the piece was a pun, or wordplay, and I was totally charmed. And insisted on saying "cows on parade" with the same inflection/emphasis as "Pigs in Space."
Favorites:
Discow at Whole Foods
Scrabbull at City Hall Plaza
Eye Cowrumba at the Long Center
Cow-Moo-Flage (I think this is the one that hooked me)
Flamencow
Really, the Cows! On! Parade! are like stationary art cars (I still don't understand why there's no art car community in Austin), and are better canvases than guitars for depicting some awesome art puns.
My only disappointment was the egregious absence of a "Frida Cow-lo."
12 December 2011
11 December 2011
10 December 2011
sleep, and more sleep
Came across this on my morning walk with Gracie and it made me laugh...
Santa nodding off. In other news, I turned off all my alarms last night and slept in this morning, knowing I needed the rest to get over a chest cold. I had hoped to watch the lunar eclipse during my Saturday run. With the chest cold nixing that, I figured to see it while walking walking Gracie, then ended up sleeping right through it. However, it was a San Francisco cold, damp, overcast morning, so I wouldn't have been able to see it anyway. The ten hours of sleep was not quite as spectacular and rare as the eclipse, but awesome in its own way.
Santa nodding off. In other news, I turned off all my alarms last night and slept in this morning, knowing I needed the rest to get over a chest cold. I had hoped to watch the lunar eclipse during my Saturday run. With the chest cold nixing that, I figured to see it while walking walking Gracie, then ended up sleeping right through it. However, it was a San Francisco cold, damp, overcast morning, so I wouldn't have been able to see it anyway. The ten hours of sleep was not quite as spectacular and rare as the eclipse, but awesome in its own way.
09 December 2011
Sieze the Holidailies
Holidailies are here again. This year, expect short & sweet entries tucked in amidst marathon training, appearing in a holiday tap show, work, and the general holiday hub-bub. I appreciate the additional motivation Holidailies provides to get me to post more entries. I'm lucky to have a pretty rich and full life and privileged to have the health and resources to do many of the things I love. This holiday season, I want to celebrate the little things that I appreciate about living in the best city in Texas, as well as things that catch my eye, strike my fancy, or make me smile and feel glad to be alive. Enough meta.
To kick things off, here's my tap shoes, getting some action these days after a year on the shelf due to marathon training and injury recovery, both running and not running related.
I wrote the first part of this while sitting backstage waiting for my cue. Pretty awesome to be performing tap, and some consolation for having to skip tomorrow's run to rest & recover from minor chest congestion. A week and a half ago, I had no idea I'd be in Tapestry's Christmas show, then I heard they were looking for more "snow" (which may or may not be a euphemism for white girls who tap dance). From there, it only took a day of deliberation and some honest reflection from two friends about the excitement on my face when I talked about it for me to join up. Somehow, my biggest concerns about finding the time to fit this in among my other activities and responsibilities have been a non-issue. Similar to making a plan to hike the AT, when I chose to participate in something I love, the path opened up. I am grateful for the moments when that kind of synchronicity and ease is present in my life. I spent too many years watching/letting those kinds of opportunities slide by.
On a completely different note, here's the dawg, looking guilty on the sofa, although she earned a whole day's worth of sofa lounging for putting up with ear cleaning at the vet. Not the best picture, it's hard to capture such awesomeness on film.
To kick things off, here's my tap shoes, getting some action these days after a year on the shelf due to marathon training and injury recovery, both running and not running related.
I wrote the first part of this while sitting backstage waiting for my cue. Pretty awesome to be performing tap, and some consolation for having to skip tomorrow's run to rest & recover from minor chest congestion. A week and a half ago, I had no idea I'd be in Tapestry's Christmas show, then I heard they were looking for more "snow" (which may or may not be a euphemism for white girls who tap dance). From there, it only took a day of deliberation and some honest reflection from two friends about the excitement on my face when I talked about it for me to join up. Somehow, my biggest concerns about finding the time to fit this in among my other activities and responsibilities have been a non-issue. Similar to making a plan to hike the AT, when I chose to participate in something I love, the path opened up. I am grateful for the moments when that kind of synchronicity and ease is present in my life. I spent too many years watching/letting those kinds of opportunities slide by.
On a completely different note, here's the dawg, looking guilty on the sofa, although she earned a whole day's worth of sofa lounging for putting up with ear cleaning at the vet. Not the best picture, it's hard to capture such awesomeness on film.
29 October 2011
Rebuilding a Runner
It's been a very long and very short month since I jacked up my back and had to skip my goal race. The recovery has been up and down; on individual days it's sometimes hard to detect improvement, but in big picture terms, I'm definitely getting better. My chiro didn't see the need to schedule another appointment after this week, and my PT doesn't want to see me for another two weeks. I'm gonna assume it's because I'm improving, and not because they find me endlessly annoying. Monday starts the official rebuilding process to make me better, stronger, faster, although not bionic. Emily said to me the week I canceled my trip/race plans that there must be some reason I wasn't supposed to do that race. At the time I didn't want to hear that, and let her know quite clearly/crudely (sorry 'bout that, Emily!), but now, it seems perhaps there is a greater plan than I can conceive of.
Rogue is conducting a pilot training program based on heart rate. It's targeted at runners who are prone to overtraining and have been stuck in performance plateaus or have had chronic injuries as a result. They received more than 80 applications for 15 spots in the training group. For all the disappointment of missing my marathon, that and my other chronic injuries seem to have put me unequivocally in the "yes" pile. Not necessarily something to be proud of, but it's a fantastic opportunity. My back has recovered enough that I can do sustained running for 30+ minutes, but if this morning's run is any indication, this is going to feel like starting from ground zero, yet again. That might be a good thing since I'll be learning a whole new way of training.
I spent some time this morning getting to know my heart rate monitor. It said my VO2 max is 43, which is off the chart for my age. It was "heartening" considering how much my level of activity has dropped in the last month. I'll find out my true VO2 max this week in a lab test (treadmill, heart rate monitor, face mask oxygen measurement, fun!). I won't be terribly surprised to learn that I've been doing my "comfortably easy" runs at a higher heart rate than I should, which ultimately compromises my recovery and ability to improve. I come by my tendency to overdo/overtrain honestly, but I'm learning there's a more effective way to train, and, if I want to continue to train, race, and improve, I can't afford not to give this my best shot.
Giving this my best shot means making some fundamental changes in other areas of my life. While I improved my rest and nutrition during my last training phase, I can do better. In an effort to keep myself honest, here's the rebuilding plan for the foundation - the things that will make my runs and training more enjoyable and more effective:
Rest - no more operating from a small, but consistent sleep deficit. I can function on 6-7 hours of sleep, but that adds stress to my system and over time, hinders my performance. Goal: 7-8 hours of sleep, consistently
Nutrition - this one calls for a bulleted list:
Cross Training - swim or bike at least once a week, 40-45 minutes each
Flexibility - practice yoga twice a week, maintain PT exercises for my back
Recovery - monthly massage, post-run stretching, trigger point, and ice baths (as needed)
I'll track all of this, but probably not publicly. Some of these things, specifically the rest and nutrition aspects, will contribute to improving my overall well-being and making my life more enjoyable and effective. I'm clear on the fact that it's a privilege for me to be able to run and train and compete in events. I'm fortunate and grateful to have the physical health and resources to be able to do these things. I deserve to take the best possible care of myself, but I haven't been doing so. I have a genetic predisposition to high cholesterol, and have often said I would make drastic changes to my diet, if it were necessary for medical reasons. So far, my athletic pursuits have been enough to keep my ratio healthy. But running has evolved into something more than getting across a finish line or staying fit. I want to see how far I can go and how fast. That begs a deeper level of commitment and dedication than I've previously given to my athletic performance. This is a record of that commitment.
I feel like this rebuilding process needs a catchy name.
Rogue is conducting a pilot training program based on heart rate. It's targeted at runners who are prone to overtraining and have been stuck in performance plateaus or have had chronic injuries as a result. They received more than 80 applications for 15 spots in the training group. For all the disappointment of missing my marathon, that and my other chronic injuries seem to have put me unequivocally in the "yes" pile. Not necessarily something to be proud of, but it's a fantastic opportunity. My back has recovered enough that I can do sustained running for 30+ minutes, but if this morning's run is any indication, this is going to feel like starting from ground zero, yet again. That might be a good thing since I'll be learning a whole new way of training.
I spent some time this morning getting to know my heart rate monitor. It said my VO2 max is 43, which is off the chart for my age. It was "heartening" considering how much my level of activity has dropped in the last month. I'll find out my true VO2 max this week in a lab test (treadmill, heart rate monitor, face mask oxygen measurement, fun!). I won't be terribly surprised to learn that I've been doing my "comfortably easy" runs at a higher heart rate than I should, which ultimately compromises my recovery and ability to improve. I come by my tendency to overdo/overtrain honestly, but I'm learning there's a more effective way to train, and, if I want to continue to train, race, and improve, I can't afford not to give this my best shot.
Giving this my best shot means making some fundamental changes in other areas of my life. While I improved my rest and nutrition during my last training phase, I can do better. In an effort to keep myself honest, here's the rebuilding plan for the foundation - the things that will make my runs and training more enjoyable and more effective:
Rest - no more operating from a small, but consistent sleep deficit. I can function on 6-7 hours of sleep, but that adds stress to my system and over time, hinders my performance. Goal: 7-8 hours of sleep, consistently
Nutrition - this one calls for a bulleted list:
- do a two week carb sensitivity test
- eliminate foods that create cravings or decrease feelings of well-being and ability to perform (sugar, gluten, most dairy, caffeine, and alcohol immediately come to mind, others to be determined from sensitivity test)
- keep a food log - this will help with the carb sensitivity test, and help me stick with my plan
Cross Training - swim or bike at least once a week, 40-45 minutes each
Flexibility - practice yoga twice a week, maintain PT exercises for my back
Recovery - monthly massage, post-run stretching, trigger point, and ice baths (as needed)
I'll track all of this, but probably not publicly. Some of these things, specifically the rest and nutrition aspects, will contribute to improving my overall well-being and making my life more enjoyable and effective. I'm clear on the fact that it's a privilege for me to be able to run and train and compete in events. I'm fortunate and grateful to have the physical health and resources to be able to do these things. I deserve to take the best possible care of myself, but I haven't been doing so. I have a genetic predisposition to high cholesterol, and have often said I would make drastic changes to my diet, if it were necessary for medical reasons. So far, my athletic pursuits have been enough to keep my ratio healthy. But running has evolved into something more than getting across a finish line or staying fit. I want to see how far I can go and how fast. That begs a deeper level of commitment and dedication than I've previously given to my athletic performance. This is a record of that commitment.
I feel like this rebuilding process needs a catchy name.
10 October 2011
Race Cancelled?
Sunday's See Jane Run Austin half-marathon was canceled because of the severity of thunderstorms race morning. I wasn't running (obviously, from my last post) but had planned to cheer on a few friends who were running. I was quite happy to stay inside and listen to the early morning rain instead. It brought back memories of the '07 Cap Tex Tri - the only other event I've missed - that was canceled because of storms race morning. I felt bad for all the people who were planning to race. It's incredibly disappointing to have worked for something for months, then not have the opportunity to go out and execute. I remembered how pissed off and sad we were to miss the '07 tri.
Some interesting things happened as a result of that race cancellation. I had trained for months with Team in Training, getting to know a few people, but dealing with the disappointment of missing the race was the glue that really bonded us as a team. When the sun came up and the weather broke that morning, someone had the brilliant idea for us to run an impromptu 5K along the race course. Puddle jumping, whooping & hollering, and letting out some of the race energy we'd built up. Our coaches and mentors cheered us on, and we cheered each other through the finishing chute, by this time the only athletes still around. The race photographer took a group photo of us. We met up for happy hour later that week, where we acknowledged how far we'd come as a team and what we'd accomplished in the fight against cancer, regardless of race day events. We also received the only finisher medals given out for the race. Somehow, TnT staff and our coach managed to get them for us. TnT also secured entries for another race for us.
At the happy hour, talk inevitably turned to "what might have been" and "what next." Linking the anger, sadness, and disappointment was an undercurrent of dissatisfaction that I can best characterize as hunger. A hunger to perform what we'd practiced for so many months on the race stage, for closure on the training season, and to see how much farther training could take me. That happy hour was where the Half-Ironman distance first became a twinkle in my eye, and many of us informally committed to '08 Wildflower that night.
Cap Tex Tri '07 would have been my first Olympic distance race. For the Disco Tri in Dallas, the make-up race, record rains canceled the swim, so it became a duathlon (to my delight). I finally got my Olympic Tri at the inaugural Austin Tri in September. I think I ended up doing more races in '07-'08 than the previous six years combined, all on the heels of a race cancellation that somehow cemented my commitment to working toward training & racing goals. 2007 was the first year I participated in organized training, which really brought my inner athlete out of the closet. I learned that I thrive as an athlete when I work with a good coach. As someone who had a long pattern of putting the needs of others before my own, trying to do everything on my own, and keeping my athletic abilities on the back burner, seeking out good coaching was one of the best gifts I could give myself. Now, I've not only checked running a marathon off my bucket list but I'm in the process of finding out how fast I can run one. Ironman is no longer one of those races only crazy people do. Well, let's face it, that definition still applies, nonetheless, it's been added to the bucket list.
My lessons from that canceled race:
Some interesting things happened as a result of that race cancellation. I had trained for months with Team in Training, getting to know a few people, but dealing with the disappointment of missing the race was the glue that really bonded us as a team. When the sun came up and the weather broke that morning, someone had the brilliant idea for us to run an impromptu 5K along the race course. Puddle jumping, whooping & hollering, and letting out some of the race energy we'd built up. Our coaches and mentors cheered us on, and we cheered each other through the finishing chute, by this time the only athletes still around. The race photographer took a group photo of us. We met up for happy hour later that week, where we acknowledged how far we'd come as a team and what we'd accomplished in the fight against cancer, regardless of race day events. We also received the only finisher medals given out for the race. Somehow, TnT staff and our coach managed to get them for us. TnT also secured entries for another race for us.
At the happy hour, talk inevitably turned to "what might have been" and "what next." Linking the anger, sadness, and disappointment was an undercurrent of dissatisfaction that I can best characterize as hunger. A hunger to perform what we'd practiced for so many months on the race stage, for closure on the training season, and to see how much farther training could take me. That happy hour was where the Half-Ironman distance first became a twinkle in my eye, and many of us informally committed to '08 Wildflower that night.
Cap Tex Tri '07 would have been my first Olympic distance race. For the Disco Tri in Dallas, the make-up race, record rains canceled the swim, so it became a duathlon (to my delight). I finally got my Olympic Tri at the inaugural Austin Tri in September. I think I ended up doing more races in '07-'08 than the previous six years combined, all on the heels of a race cancellation that somehow cemented my commitment to working toward training & racing goals. 2007 was the first year I participated in organized training, which really brought my inner athlete out of the closet. I learned that I thrive as an athlete when I work with a good coach. As someone who had a long pattern of putting the needs of others before my own, trying to do everything on my own, and keeping my athletic abilities on the back burner, seeking out good coaching was one of the best gifts I could give myself. Now, I've not only checked running a marathon off my bucket list but I'm in the process of finding out how fast I can run one. Ironman is no longer one of those races only crazy people do. Well, let's face it, that definition still applies, nonetheless, it's been added to the bucket list.
My lessons from that canceled race:
- Have your feelings, preferably with people you've trained with or who "get it"
- Acknowledge your progress and accomplishments of the season
- Sign up for another race ASAP
- Use the hunger to extend your goals
- You never know how a difficult experience will impact you over the course of time
29 September 2011
discogenic has nothing to do with the dance floor
After four months of training, including dealing with a nagging leg issue (Thanks, Dr. Moos!) and many, many "sweating into my shoes" long runs in the glorious Austin heat (Thanks, Rogue teammates!), this was supposed to be my pre-race wrap-up post. Turns out I won't even make it to the starting line. Monday morning I had a great, short easy run, in which I noticed how balanced my stride felt, how nothing was hurting. Gracie kept pace alongside and I cautioned a couple of glances at the pre-dawn stars, enjoying the cooler morning air, clear skies, the ease of breathing, of running. Sunday's outcome unknown, but the race plan rock-solid (Thanks, Coach Amy!). Monday night, as I bent to pick up a shoe, I felt something strange in my lower back. Then I REALLY felt it when I stood up. Ouch is an understatement!
Diagnosis: discogenic lumbar region, aka bulging disc. At least it's not herniated. To add insult to injury, the cold I've been holding at bay for the past three weeks has settled in full bore.
For the first time in my racing life, I will not be at the starting line of an event I registered for. I canceled my travel plans because sitting on a plane for several hours is unthinkable, much less running a marathon. Canceling the trip sucks as much as missing the race because I was realy looking forward to seeing trail family, Journey and The Saint. I've got a call in to the race organizers to find out if I can transfer my registration to next year's race, and I'm attacking my recovery like I would a Yasso 800.
I've been asked "what's the lesson in this?" I don't think there is one. Sometimes these things just happen, and what matters is how I deal with it. Acknowledging my progress. Many great things have happened over the course of the training season. Improved self-care (nutrition & rest), getting to know and run with an awesomely fun bunch of people, training with Coach Amy & Coach Rex, practicing patience with persistent injuries (I get to practice that some more!), improved fitness, a return to the ease and joy of running that I hadn't felt since my Thru-Hike, and learning that I don't know #%!&. Having my feelings. It's an understatement that I'm deeply disappointed to miss this race, I've shed some tears, shaken my fist at the universe, and probably will again, but none of the "what might have beens" diminish the victories of this traning season. Moving on. A wise coach taught me to consider what it might mean to miss a goal, and though this is a setback, it's a resolvable one. The Doc says we've caught the issue early and I can expect a 4-6 week recovery. I'm investigating things I can do to maintain my fitness while I heal, and I am still on the path, a stronger, smarter runner. Any big goal carries with it an element of risk, that's what makes it exciting to work toward, regardless of the outcome. Writing this entry. I will need to remind myself of all of this in a couple weeks when I'm depressed about not being able to run and in the thick of PT.
For my Rogue teammates and other friends who are gearing up for Twin Cities, Chicago, Nike, Portland, Columbus, Marine Corps, New York, San Antonio, and other fall races - run with heart!
It has been an honor and privilege to run with you, I'll be back as soon as I'm able.
The Rogue Blog has a great article on Dealing With Failure.
Diagnosis: discogenic lumbar region, aka bulging disc. At least it's not herniated. To add insult to injury, the cold I've been holding at bay for the past three weeks has settled in full bore.
For the first time in my racing life, I will not be at the starting line of an event I registered for. I canceled my travel plans because sitting on a plane for several hours is unthinkable, much less running a marathon. Canceling the trip sucks as much as missing the race because I was realy looking forward to seeing trail family, Journey and The Saint. I've got a call in to the race organizers to find out if I can transfer my registration to next year's race, and I'm attacking my recovery like I would a Yasso 800.
I've been asked "what's the lesson in this?" I don't think there is one. Sometimes these things just happen, and what matters is how I deal with it. Acknowledging my progress. Many great things have happened over the course of the training season. Improved self-care (nutrition & rest), getting to know and run with an awesomely fun bunch of people, training with Coach Amy & Coach Rex, practicing patience with persistent injuries (I get to practice that some more!), improved fitness, a return to the ease and joy of running that I hadn't felt since my Thru-Hike, and learning that I don't know #%!&. Having my feelings. It's an understatement that I'm deeply disappointed to miss this race, I've shed some tears, shaken my fist at the universe, and probably will again, but none of the "what might have beens" diminish the victories of this traning season. Moving on. A wise coach taught me to consider what it might mean to miss a goal, and though this is a setback, it's a resolvable one. The Doc says we've caught the issue early and I can expect a 4-6 week recovery. I'm investigating things I can do to maintain my fitness while I heal, and I am still on the path, a stronger, smarter runner. Any big goal carries with it an element of risk, that's what makes it exciting to work toward, regardless of the outcome. Writing this entry. I will need to remind myself of all of this in a couple weeks when I'm depressed about not being able to run and in the thick of PT.
For my Rogue teammates and other friends who are gearing up for Twin Cities, Chicago, Nike, Portland, Columbus, Marine Corps, New York, San Antonio, and other fall races - run with heart!
It has been an honor and privilege to run with you, I'll be back as soon as I'm able.
The Rogue Blog has a great article on Dealing With Failure.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
