I'm a Wind Goddess

Remember in Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy how there was this semi-truck driver who attracted rain? He was a rain god and didn't know it. When he was close to home his wife would always bring in the laundry. I've concluded that I'm an athletic event wind goddess; the wind just loves me.

Let me convince you.

Last August, remember that one weekend of tornado warnings and thunderstorms? I was at the Centurion bike ride in Middleton. We sat in an airplane hangar for hours letting the most dangerous blackness blow over. Then we rode in the rain--and wind.

In September I was in Chicago, for the Big Shoulders 5k lake swim. Sure, you'd expect it to be coolish and breezy. But two-and-a-half foot waves, rain, and--yes--wind? I guess it was real nice the year before.

So October brought another bike ride, this one Tyranena Oktoberfest in Lake Mills. Colorful leaves and bright autumn sun - nope. Sixty-five miles of chill, splattering rain, and wind that made the hair on my legs stand up and lie down.

Coincidence, you say. Do enough events and anyone can rattle off a windy list of bad experiences, you argue? Yes, I did a few other events - there was that Turkey Trot in the cold rain, and a 5k in December in 6 inches of new snow. (I won't count the adventure race in November where the weather was gorgeous but I was just too confused and lost to appreciate it.)

Now it's a new season and the charm hasn't worn off.

Last month was to have my first event of the year: the Vet-Fest half-marathon in Reedsburg. Well, 2011 was the year we skipped spring so I skipped the run. Temps in the 30s, rain, heavy clouds, and 20-mile-an-hour winds.

Now we come to it: Sunday is marathon day. Green Bay. Forecast: temps in the 40s, rain, 20- to 30-mph winds. Am thinking of taking up wind surfing.

Chillin'



The ice is newly gone from Silver Lake in Portage.
I stepped in for some chill therapy.



The week of rest from marathoning has been good. I played a little at the drawing board instead. Wanna see?

Paper bits and pieces, gesso, acrylics, fabric, gouache. About 24 inches square.

Mixed paints, gold and silver leaf; about 7 x 20 inches.

Mixed water media and foils, gouache; about 8 x 10 inches.

And I was able to run yesterday - just three weeks from marathon day.

Fifty, Going on Sixteen

Jim and I BOTH had dental
crown preps on Tuesday.
Happened to be my fiftieth
birthday. The very kind
dental staff brought
flowers and crowded into the
room to sing "Happy Birthday."
Wow.

I turned 50 this week. And I still have so much to learn.

Last weekend was the first shorts-clad training run of the year. Sue, my marathon training buddy, and I paced ourselves in 80-degree heat. (Such odd April weather.) We dressed summertime light; we carried running belts heavy with water and nutrition. Still we were under-prepared. 

The first 90 minutes or so were well enough but by mile 9, when Sue saw a garden hose in the hands of a motorcycle-washing guy, she was magnetized toward it like a witching stick. Harley-man generously filled and re-filled our water bottles, perhaps sensing the needs of two sweaty, crazed women coming at him. We left him to his motor and trudged on. 

At mile 11 Sue's tummy wasn't so good. A mile later she wisely stopped. Sue is always wise. 

I trust Sue. I've been biking with her for years and she has kept me out of trouble. She never gets lost, never does risky behaviors -- and keeps me from foolish practices. When I first got cleats she would remind me to clip out at upcoming intersections. When we hit unfriendly hills she showed me the best way to climb. And, with great patience, she reminds me every time to turn RIGHT when arriving at Briggsville. (I've gotten lost at that intersection so many times when alone.) I should have stopped running when she did. I should have been wiser. But I filled my water bottle again and went on. The plan called for 16 miles. Silly me.

A week earlier my knee had started feeling sore. One-legged squats were the culprit, topped off by poorly-fitted bike cleats. Today's run didn't seem to be bothering the knee. Yes, I was feeling the same-old, same-old hip bursitis that usually hit about mile 8. But when endorphins and the will are strong, it's easier to ignore wisdom. By mile 14 I was fantasizing about sitting in the barely-thawed lake. I walked some, I ran some. I got to 16 miles and stopped.  

Sue was waiting with the most beautiful glass of icy water. Ah. Then, keeping my promise to myself, I drove to the heavy-looking lake and sat in the numbing water. The wisest thing I had done all day.

The real adventure was the following week. Hip bursitis hurt with every step from morning to night, day after day. A twinging knee lived in perpetual ice wraps. I gave myself a good talking to. "What are your priorities, girl? Why a marathon if you can't do a basic workout? What good is fitness if you can't bring laundry up the stairs?" 

I took the week off. Really OFF - no running, no swimming, no lifting, no biking. One yoga class so gentle that I hardly knew I was moving. Minimal walking. I scratched yesterday's half-marathon that I had paid good money for. I made Jim crazy by being home all the time. But I didn't get crazy. I've got my priorities figured out: health.

I talked to my mother-in-law on Friday. She asked if I'd had a happy fiftieth birthday. "Are you feeling older and wiser?" she said. "Not older,"  I told her, "but wiser." Most definitely wiser.

Recovery Weak*

I can't get sick. I won't get sick. I NEVER get sick. Such vanity.

Yep, a cold: sore throat, muscle aches, malaise. Cures? Nope. Any suggestions beyond these?

Extra zinc, but not too much; could lead to nausea. (Ahh, could you rub my belly?)

If you're physically active, extra Vitamin C. And here I thought this was always good, but only for the very active? go figure. Shopping list: more oranges.

Lots of fluids. Tell me something new. Big whoop, I've never noticed it helping. Have also heard the opposite. But I'm eating soup. (Sorry, I'm a bit cranky.)

Garlic. Or a big smelly sign that says: Stay Away, I'm Sick.

Rest. Aw come ON, I've got a 16-miler to run on Sunday. Two sleepless nights of fever/chills not helping.

I WAS going to blah, blah, blah. I had hoped to waa, waa, waa...sigh. Just let me lie down first.

Shoot.

*Yes, I chose that spelling on purpose.

Mind Chatter: 13 Miles

Marathon training is going fine. 184 miles done. 204 miles to go.

Mile 1. I didn't email her back. Wonder if I should have done that project first. Be dark if I wait. Stiff feet. Jim always tells me: more warm up. Maybe new shoes. Under-dressed. Wind. Love this high collar. Toes numb.

Mile 2. I'm never gonna do this. Heart is soaring. Is my Garmin working right? It can't be working right. Legs are heavy. I thought those squats were gonna help. I shouldn't have swam last night. Feet. Stiff.

Mile 3. Feet. Got feeling. Gotta remember: mile three, feel better.

Mile 4. What, only mile 4? Wanna turn around. Can I do this?

Mile 5. Into wind - I didn't realize. Sweaty gloves back on. Birds cheering me? Crows. My supporters. Right.

Mile 6. Not even half way. That route to the right? A hill. Oh. Missed the turn. This route. You're ok. Salty wind.

Mile 7. Orange, eat. Two slices. Breath. Pace. Warmed up. This is good.

Mile 8. I wonder which of my swim students will be there tonight? Did I really cover that drill ok last night? What if I showed them that DVD. How many more lessons? Maybe more core work. That core work at the gym is good. I should try those lunges.

Mile 9. Nine. Nine. Nine.

Mile 10. I can do this. Pace. Sip. Patience.You can do this.

Mile 11. You're gonna do this. Hey, hip's ok. Those squats must be helping. You can do this.

Mile 12. This gravel feels soft. MacDonald's trash. That driver - she looked like me. Me in a different life? There was a kid. What if I had a 10-year-old kid like her? She didn't cut off her hair like I did. I remember being in my 30s like her. She looked so young. Would I have been a better runner in my 30s? You're gonna do this.

Mile 13. Am I tired? I think I'm tired. What a nice day. What if I had to run 14? You're ok. You did it. Next week, 14 miles.

So Many Yoga Studios

My usual yoga schedule has been disrupted these last two months so I've been grabbing classes when and where I can. Consistency is good, but if I can't have routine I will revel in newness. Here are studios I've been to lately.

Yoga Eight
University Avenue, Madison, Wisconsin

Dropped in for a class at Yoga Eight in Madison--my first time there. I was doubly lucky to find a knowledgeable teacher AND be the only student at that particular session. Wow.

Dave, the teacher/owner, offers a more eastern ashtanga approach. Form, breathing, and historical asanas were key. Loved the little details of how to flow from one position to another: a rotation or hop, almost a dance as we moved through clusters of poses.

The registration form asked if I was comfortable with adjustments - bring them on! I answered "yes!" So Dave lightly assisted in some variations on tree, a more open triangle.

Because I was the only student in this relatively new studio, Dave added or subtracted difficulty according to my ability. For example, I've never been one to hop from forward fold to plank -- I'm more of a one-backward-lunging-step-at-a-time sort of yogini. But Dave demonstrated a very doable introduction to that elegant hop into plank. I was so excited at the discovery that I could do at least SOME of the hop that I had to demonstrate this to my husband later.

If you stop in at Yoga Eight you'll find glowing northern light and a more eastern, classic instruction.


It's All About You Yoga
Baraboo, Wisconsin

When you practice at It's All About You yoga studio you are truly being welcomed into Tatsiana's Baraboo home. The1950s house is one of few left in the businessy area near the courthouse square; it is the home of yoga instructor Tatsiana, and her husband, and toddler. Step into an alcove to remove shoes, and step into a sweet-colored space that was the family room in another incarnation. The room holds about six practitioners.

Tatsiana has been teaching for a few years, building her knowledge and her practice. The two classes I attended clustered classic poses into groups that moved with the breath.

I first met Tatsiana in 2006 as a fellow student at the Baraboo Yoga Studio under Dennison and Matthew, both excellent instructors. Tatsiana brings reverberations of those classes and adds her own touches, focusing on the joy of yoga practice; she encourages a gentle smile and finishes class with a group song of happiness.

A Perfect Knot
Just off Willy Street in Madison, Wisconsin

Carla, the propreitress of A Perfect Knot
is a lovely teacher.

Hot yoga? well, why not! My first experience of Bikram's yoga was wonderful.

I always get a little nervous upon entering a new yoga studio when everyone is really buff, quiet, and serious. That was my first impression at A Perfect Knot. Then the instructor walked in and everything changed. Carla lit up the room. The serious smiled. The buff donned polka-dot jammy pants. The silence became deep, satisfying breathing.

This is a home-grown studio, with a feel of life. The community knows what a gem they have: the room was filled to capacity, mats less than two feet from each other. Carla spoke to us by name and gave us opportunities to encourage our neighbors. She knows how to create a harmony.

Ninety minutes in 90 degrees was remarkably tranquil and therapeutic. Yes, we did strengthening poses and dripped sweat. We did lots of balance poses and twists (very little dog). We used our towels, drank our water, and felt our muscles relax in the heat until they felt truly massaged. 

I will attend again.

Marathon: Green Bay in May

The cats are spraying inside the house and the salt on the car is wearing off in spots: ah, the precursors of spring.

The eight kitties who call our home theirs would have less cabin fever if they were training for a marathon. I run only two days a week (week seven starts today) and find that's enough to see the season's subtle change: salt build-up is crunchier underfoot.

I cover my face with Eucerine 'cause you KNOW the whipping wind will dry the lips and coax out tears and snot. "Where did you get your tan?" I've been asked. But it's just the sweet potatoes and the winter wind.

Change of plan: signed up for the Cellcom Green Bay Marathon, May 15. That's two weeks earlier than the Madison Marathon I had been considering.

Mileage: 81 miles run, 307 to go.