Tag: life lessons

challenges, fitness and nutrition

Flying Pig Half Marathon

2chicksandapen

May’s choice for my year of race-cations was the Flying Pig Half Marathon.

Located in Cincinnati, Ohio, the Flying Pig was voted the #1 marathon in the US according to USA Today. I figured the half marathon, run at the same time, must be awesome as well. Leading up to the race, I joined a thriving online community that shared tips with racers, offered support, and went hog wild on the awesome theme. Needless to say, I was totally pumped up when I flew in to Cincy on Saturday.

This race is so big, there are even multiple Flying Pig welcome signs and structures in the airport. The 5k and 10k took place on Saturday, so traffic was already pretty gummed up on my Uber from the airport. In case you don’t know, Cincinnati sits on a river. I ended up staying in Northern Kentucky across the river, where the hotels were a bit more affordable. (I later learned that there were a ton of events in town that weekend, including a huge baseball series, that probably contributed to the extremely high cost of hotel rooms.) There was a welcome sign for Flying Pig runners in my hotel lobby. I dropped my luggage then made my way to the expo.

The expo was honestly amazing. Tons of vendors, balloon displays, pig statues, and amazing swag. For this race, half marathon runners receive a shirt, a commemorative item (this year it was an athletic duffle bag) and a race poster. There was also a huge line at the Proctor and Gamble (sponsor) booth where there is a famous freebie giveaway. From deodorant to beauty products and more, they give away bags full of full-sized items to runners. I wanted to see the city and not drag around a big bag of shampoo and razor blades, so I skipped this benefit of the race (sadly!) If I ever do this race again, I’ll plan better.

After I got my bib and swag, I hopped a city streetcar to the Findlay Market, a famous longstanding market in Cincy. I walked through the booths and took the recommendation of someone I met on the streetcar to get a breakfast sandwich from one of the booths. It was truly a gooey salty something special. I grabbed the streetcar back to the expo area to stop for Graeter’s ice cream, a local chain of creameries. I got the special Flying Pig flavor that they make each year. Awesome carb loading with local delicacies. I also walked through the Cinco de Mayo celebrations taking place on the square. I could have used another day in Cincy to enjoy all the murals, activities, and see the sign museum. It’s sort of bittersweet, but on the other hand I actually do like the feeling of wanting to come back for more.

After laying out my race gear, I set about my restless prerace sleep. I rose at around 4:30 am to get my caffeinated life together and start the walk to the start line. All the roads were already closed at that hour. I rolled into the lobby to piles of granola bars and racers bustling around. We all collectively started the mile or so walk in the dark to the start, which included crossing a beautiful historic bridge.

The start corrals were packed, organized, and filled with energy. Music was blaring. My nerves were definitely joyous. People of all shapes and sizes come out to walk and “Run the Pig.” People proudly wear walking club shirts. Women who appeared to be about 20 years older than me clustered in groups as we inched our way forward. Finally, after what seemed like hours, we crossed the start line.

I loved the first few miles. I was feeling good. The weather was still cool. We got to go over some great bridges back and forth between the states. I was smiling and my pace was solid.

Mile 5 is when things started to go off the rails a bit. I knew this race was described as hilly. But, reviewers had said Little Rock was hilly, but I didn’t find it troubling. But Cincy was different. It wasn’t really hilly so much as a single 4 mile long hill. Straight. Up. I guess I didn’t study the elevation of the race as well as I should have. The sheer length and relentlessness of this hill caught me completely off guard. I continued to run / walk as best I could, but my energy was completely wrecked by the time I got to mile 10. My pace had gone from the 13s to over 15 (even 16!) minutes per mile. In the mean time, the sun came up and I never recovered. Wearing full length pants was a huge mistake. I was overheated, legs were overtaxed, and I struggled to finish.

The crowd support was great. I had learned the trick of putting my name on my bib so people cheered for me by name as I shuffled by. I laughed at the signs and took the high fives. But honestly, I was fighting to get to the finish line. But, finish I did! As ugly as it was.

I physically sat down about 100 yards after receiving my medal. I NEVER sit down that soon. I couldn’t stomach the famous LaRosa’s pizza at the after party. I nibbled just the corner and hobbled to the shuttles back to the hotel. All I could think about was a cold shower and air conditioning.

At the time I said *NEVER AGAIN* to this race. But now that I’ve had some time to recover and get a little perspective, I can imagine myself seeking redemption someday. This may be a race to revisit once I am wiser about fueling and energy management (not to mention wardrobe!) I also have unfinished business with the city and the expo, so I won’t say never! When pigs fly!

June brings summer heat and shorter distances. I’ll confess I wasn’t totally sorry for a step back from the half marathon distance for a few months. Stay tuned to find out where my trusty Brooks will test themselves next.

perspective

Let it Go

2chicksandapen

Recently I heard a comment about growth. I wasn’t thinking the growth was really my growth, rather the growth of another. Boy was I wrong.

I had to take some time to think about the growth opportunity. We were at a crossroads of sorts. Her learning to fly. Me letting her fly solo throwing caution to the wind. Whether near or far as a mom you always have a eerie sense of worry for your kid. It never really goes away. My mom is in her eighties and she still feels the worry of her kids.

Nonetheless,  adjusting my comfort zone to let another sink or swim on their own was as much about my growth as hers. As you have a child become an adult, you can only hope they remember every life lesson you gave them. Direct or indirect lessons of all kinds. The life experiences along the way. The life lessons that should influence solid decision making. That is just so easy to say. The reality is always much different.

Despite what you teach along the way, it is ultimately on them to find their moral compass. To make good choices. To surround themselves with a tribe that is good company. Sometimes this doesn’t happen on day one. Sometimes there are mistakes or bumps along the way as they spread their wings.

All you can do is guide, cheer and support from a distance. The passenger seat. You don’t get to choose their spouse. You don’t get to choose if they have kids. You don’t get to choose where they live. Your life and role in their life shifts. This is as much about your growth as theirs.

Girls may grow through this phase of life at different speeds than boys. No two kids are the same despite the same upbringing. I should know this myself just by looking at myself and my siblings as adults. So many differences yet same household growing up. Each of us took different paths. Each totally different lifestyles. None of which are wrong. Just different.

I’ve been at peace for a while on what I can control. What I can teach in the final days. What could be on the horizon. Once that peace is engrained in my mind, I am able to focus on what’s next for me.

This is my growth opportunity. New hobbies. Time to travel. Goals to achieve. Time to prep for my next adventure stage of life. Things will be different. There will quieter times. There may even be gaps in excitement. This is where I again need to refocus on what’s important for me now. How do I grow?

Cleansing my mind.

Letting go.

Closing my eyes to see what I desire.

The day dreaming.

The growth.

The opportunities.

My time has arrived. 

Her time of need is in the shadows.

Off to college she goes. Off to master life as an empty nester for me. Each flying solo in their way. Why did it take me to today to realize this? 

Off we go.

New chapters loading.

Out with the old.

In with the new.

challenges, fitness and nutrition

Puddin’ Pedal

2chicksandapen

Sounds cute and innocent enough…a 20-mile “fun ride” through central Georgia. Part of the State Banana Pudding Festival. Pudding at all the rest stops! A pudding tasting at the festival! Banana carving! What’s not to love?

There was a 20 mile and a 40 mile option. People asked me what I was doing…funny. Even 20 miles would be about 7 miles longer than I had ever biked. There were maybe 20 of us, total. 5 doing 40 miles, 15 doing 20. Some chit chat at the start line…quite a few of us were new to this event, but nearly all had much nicer gear and bikes than I did. Several wore fancy kits advertising their distance races. Most were also my age or older. Friendly. After all, we weren’t competing.

Straight out of the gate there was a huge downhill. I thought to myself, we are going to pay for this with some big ups.

How right I was! What followed was mile after mile of mostly huge hills. Every turn had me holding my breath and often shaking my head in disbelief. Another ?!^&@# hill!!!

The 40 milers and some of the more experienced cyclists were long gone as I steady pedaled up the first few hills. A couple of older women who had come together took a number of breaks on the side of the rural roads so I kept in touch with them. Finally at one point I turned around to see several people about 50 yards behind me along with the police safety vehicle that signifies the back of the pack. I’m doing ok, I thought. Just keep moving.

Up and down. Up and down. At one point I just get off the bike and walk it up the last part of the hill. My back and my saddle soreness told me it was fine to take a little break. At one point people pass me and then I hear the sound of the car over my shoulder. It would be over my shoulder for the remainder of the miles. Kind of taunting me. Once in a while tempting me. Others had given up, hoisted their bikes and climbed in. Put themselves out of the slow rolling pain of endless hills. Should I?

I’ll spare you the pain of all the inner doubt and dialogue. I knew I was too stubborn to give up. Yes, every time I would get off the bike to walk some horrible uphill they would pull up next to me to see if I was ok. Always the answer: “yes” with a smile and a thank you. Even with the headwinds of a storm blowing in. Even after an hour and a half with no mile markers and not a bowl of pudding in sight, I kept going.

We did finally get to the pudding stop. There was just one. The rest of the 20 mile group was there, sitting and snacking on pudding and sandwiches and nilla wafers and orange slices. We all pulled out together a few minutes later. I learned we just had about 7 miles to go, with a few more horrible uphills between me and the finish line.

It took forever, it seemed. Me and the sweep truck just puttering along. One hill had me so mad I started hyperventilating. But I had to calm down… “You didn’t come this far to just come this far,” I told myself. “Finish it. Finish it. Finish it.” Counting my pedals from 1-100 just to focus on getting. up, the, hill.

And at long last, I did finish. The finish line was nothing special. In fact, people kept saying “just keep going,” then eventually I was riding into the festival crowd and I turned around. The follower vehicles were gone. No finish line, no bowl of pudding, no cheers or way to gos. I just got off my bike and sat on the ground for a minute. Shaking my head. Shaking all over, really. What just happened? I finished.

This may have been the hardest physical thing I had ever done. I had to work harder than I wanted for longer than I wanted because there was someone just over my shoulder, waiting for me to quit. No stops for photos or scenery. Just a fight through pretty much every single mile.

I am stubborn, that is for sure. I can endure pain and discomfort for as long as I need to. I can keep going. I can sustain. I don’t have to satisfy anyone but myself.

A bucket list activity turned into a one-and-done. A few bites of pudding and many sore muscles and memories. Sometimes the things you look forward to contain tests and challenges you don’t anticipate or imagine. But pushing through them is its own gift. It leaves you with a sense of achievement. And a plan to improve.

fitness and nutrition, health

Year 7

2chicksandapen

Was year 7 a lucky year? No. It was however the 7th consecutive year for me to participate in the CrossFit Open. I’m still fittish. I’m still fabulous. I’m still as competitive as I was when I was just 12 years old.

Year 7 was a defining year. A year I didn’t let fear hold me back. A year to redefine myself within my personal scope of CrossFit today. This year I am visiting the gym 3-4 days a week as compared to a solid 6 days a week a few years ago. I’m a little thicker. I’m a little less flexible. I’m a little more cautious vs. reckless.

I do other things now, whether I’m playing tennis a few days a week or just squeezing in a workout in my shred shed to stay active. With that being said I didn’t miss the chance to compete in the CrossFit Open. Why would I? I have a seven year streak going. I may even have a goal to see how many years I can do it.

I participated scaled which was okay for me as I wasn’t working on the advanced gymnastics movements all year, but I could garner the strength to participate scaled. I scaled like a boss and owned each workout the best I could. I had fun. I did better than expected in most cases. All in all I am happy to be continuing to compete each year.

The workouts are always different. The people around you may change but the competitive edge really lies within you. I’ve been an athlete all my life. I have competed at high levels across many sports over the years. The common denominator is competition for me. I like to compete. I like to compete in many areas of life and sports allows me to hone my skills and discipline myself. 

As you can see below I test my brain each morning with Wordle. I compete with friends near and far. A digital challenge each morning. A competition bright and early in the day to spark the competitive edge we all have. Some days it’s easy. Some days it’s frustrating. Some days I lose. Today I was a little lucky. Some friends start with the same word. I choose a new word daily. I guess I like change and that simple word change is something I control each morning. Instead of being cautious I’m risking change thus competing with myself.

I compete with myself on the daily however having national leaderboards is a great way to see how you stack up to others around the world. I’m not the elite athlete by any means and I don’t care to be. I care to be me, an athlete. A masters athlete. A scaled athlete. A long-term competitor. I’m an endurance athlete. I’m enduring the test of time. How long can I stay fit enough to compete at whatever level my body and mind wants to. I adapt. I adjust. I realign my expectations now and again.

Some days I may be in the masters age class for CrossFit while other days I’m in the muck of it all with an 18 year old. On the tennis courts I may play in the senior league but then the next day play in 18 and older league. Each scenario may be different with players and abilities but it’s still competitive. Your mind still needs to react to the environment. One must persevere against whatever the odds are. Being an athlete also has highs and lows. Winning days and losing days. The point is I still compete and give my all in whatever level competition I am in and whether or not I win a prize. 

I don’t register for the local 5k to be #1 in my age group. I do it to say I competed. I do it to be amongst other like-minded people who chose fitness. Environment matters. Getting out with others can be key for many who many suffer in their own silent ways. Remember that you don’t have to be #1 to be an athlete. You need to train to be an athlete. Training is a repetitive action.

Today at my gym I worked out along side a young guy in a wheelchair. He adapts every movement for him even though we do the same class. Next to me is a teenager. She is getting her conditioning in for her high school off season. Different levels, same focus on fitness. Making time to work at our levels.

My body gets stiffer these days. My body needs extra time stretching. Once I make my adjustments I can still work just as hard as others. I’m just adjusting to the newer version of me which is actually the older version of me. Tweaking what needs adjusting along the way.

When I look back at these seven years in the Open, I can see how far I have come. I can see where I could go. I can see how many people quit while I stayed on the path. I can see how much my fit life has impacted others around me. My mental strength has grown from all the moments I spent on the gym floor in near tears for making another rep. My emotional strength has skyrocketed as it goes hand and hand with my mental prowess. Physically I have hit ups and downs but I am super strong in comparison to many my age and for that I am hopeful for the future. The future of me. How long I endure. How I forge ahead.

If you have never competed on a national level, try it. Maybe your sport is chess. Maybe it’s pickle ball. Whatever the sport see how you fare. Competition is a strength in all parts of life. We all compete for tomorrow when it’s never guaranteed. Staying competitive in life or competing helps one prepare for those days that you need the physical, mental and emotional strength to see tomorrow.

I am an athlete.

An athlete in mind, body and spirit.

I have trained for years.

I did the work.

I continue to work each day. This is what an athlete does. They train continuously. It’s my opinion that athletes make great leaders. They understand sacrifice. They know how to work hard. They appreciate mental toughness. They can balance when needed in life. They are built to endure.

The photo above showing me upside down is fascinating to those who don’t workout. It takes a lot to go upside down. Confidence. Strength. Determination. Power more than finesse. Practice. Failures. Courage. So much behind the scenes of this photo, yet I am proud to say that at 51 years old I can go upside down. Maybe that’s another goal to see how many more years I can go upside down.

What kind of athlete are you?

perspective

Out With the Old

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Out you go! In with the new. Cleansing is going on around me. Recycle, repurpose, redirect, reconfigure, remove, renew, etc.

Sometimes you need to reshuffle life. A fresh perspective. Some old items are sort of new these days. Maybe they were rehomed or repurposed. Meaning they will live another day despite their age. Maybe they just needed a new environment. Maybe some new paint. Maybe some buffing or waxing. Maybe even a recycling project of sorts. Taking older components to reuse in a different way making them new but still old. Recycling is good for the environment and has many benefits.

Speaking of old, I got rid of an old car. Not a super old car but one that still had many miles left to go. It was pretty. It was fun. It took many adventures. Only it was time for something new. Out it goes!

A new purpose. A different look. A unchartered kind of road ahead for its owner and companions. Nightfall has come. A new journey begins. Off we go.

Have you had to let go of something in the past to make room for the future? Many have to experience this in life. Sometimes with the arrival of a new baby something has to go. Maybe when aging something must go. Maybe if downsizing is needed something must go.

Cleansing is a process. Maybe you can just start cleansing your social media followers list as a practice activity. See who you miss and who you don’t. Out with old. Off we go. Go, go, go as Dr. Seuss would say.