Triathlon Blues

This is my sister.

This is her climbing a wall in LA. She’s afraid of heights, but when she came to visit, she insisted we go rock climbing, as it is something she wanted to try.

Nikki is having a little Triathlon Blues this week, and who can blame her? Her Tri is less than two weeks away, and she’s sick of getting up early, of only ever working out, and probably sick of writing about it. That’s where I come in.

When my sister and I were younger, we both played soccer. She was better (but I still maintain I was faster.) We played piano: she was better. We both wrote (she was better) and we both took joy out of being mean to each other (she, most definitely, was better.) I had a blog: she wanted one. (Hers is funnier.) Although I am mostly better at bossing people around, and baking, she is better than most things. I’d like to think it’s because she is two years older, so two years wiser, but I suspect it’s because she maintains the attitude of “oh yea? I can’t do whatever I want, just because I am a woman, short, and don’t have much directional sense? Watch me.”

And so, when my sister, who used to share an equal hate with me of running, declared that she loved running and was going to do a triathlon, (the idea of my sister swimming in open water made me laugh and want to call the Coast Guard all at once) I wasn’t that surprised.

She ran, a lot. She had already run 5ks, and a half marathon. With hills. Which had ALREADY surprised me.

She started swimming because the doctor told her she couldn’t run. Tendinitis be damned, this girl was GOING to work out, and you couldn’t stop her. This was nearly a year ago, and she’s now up to swimming a full mile, in OPEN WATER. Do you think I’ll be hoping in the Pacific any time soon to swim a mile? (Nope, not after this year’s special on Great White Sharks, and also, I can’t swim really…)

Then, girl writes on April 1 (so let’s be honest, she could have been joking) that in August she was going to do a Triathlon. SERIOUSLY? Is there nothing my sister won’t do? All I do is yoga, Nikki: you’ve beat me. You can stop now, I swear.

In June, my sister bought a bike.

For those of you who don’t know, my sister and I learned how to ride bikes at the same time. I am pretty sure I was up and off training wheels first. Her coordination is lacking, and although I bike through the streets of LA, I couldn’t foresee my sister EVER wanting to do so in Chicago. But here was the evidence, on her blog, of her, fearless (almost) and biking to the lake.

So let’s go over the timeline, one more time:

October, 2009: My sister gets tendinitis, and is told she can’t run. So she swims.

April 1, 2010: My sister decides that she’s going to do a triathlon.

June 11, 2010: She buys a bike

July 14, 2010: She gets into the open water for her first open water swim.

August 29, 2010: My sister will be doing her first triathlon.

Unfortunately, I won’t be there to cheer her on, and see how awesome she does. But for now, I am basically trying to tell her (and you, so you can tell her, too) that she is going to do fine. Better than fine. Great. Wonderful. She is doing something that I have never even considered. She is doing something that a year ago I would have found crazy. She has trained for almost 5 months for something, devoting most of her free time to it, and Tendinitis, coordination, avid triathletes be damned: she will win, because she will finish. And then, by September, she will be on to a new crazy project: the next one, I hope, will involved yoga, and getting herself to a handstand. Nikki: you will be wonderful. Get get ’em.

This weekend was:

Sunshine. Scrambled eggs. My favorite girls. Tunes in my kitchen. Yoga at the gym. “Oh, we’re subleasing.” Downward facing dog. Triangle. Airplane. Walking home in the sunshine. Packing for the beach. Books, towels, blankets, pizza. Sun. In the car, tunes up, windows down, friends surrounding friends. Busy beach, moving on, quiet beach. Laughing so hard you cry. Sun. Blanket spread, friends arriving. “These are my friends from high school.” Loving getting to say that, over and over again. Explaining how we’re all friends. Running in the water. Video taping it. K, B, and I in the water. Getting tossed out of the ocean by the waves. Bruises from the sea [no, thank you, you are not admitted.] Laying out. Showers on the beach. Wedding on the beach. Reading on the beach. Sleeping on the beach. Bleachers on the beach. Nerf football. Chattering away at each other. Birthday wishes. Sun going down, lifeguards arriving. Young lifeguards. Time to leave. Packing it up, in, and out. Changing, laughing, sun dipping. Pictures. Two cars, four girls, makeup on. Smiles, oohs and ahhs, pictures. Camera on timer, on the car. Friendly passerby shooting our smiles, or glances at the sea, and the helicopter. Dinner. Fancy restaurant, by the sea. Seated, by the kitchen. A bottle of wine. New friends, old friends. Seafood, Alfredo. Mud Pie. Laughing, laughing. Smiles. Stories, long and short. Hugs, mints flavored like sugar, and hugs. Valet cars, and home. Traffic. Life stories, on the streets of LA, through the night, to home. Rent. Rent checks. Back in the car. More life stories, because the traffic in LA is never light, and the load on your heart is never lifted.

Sleep. Wake.

Bikes. Farmer’s market. Is that man dead? No, I think no. Garlic, and so large it is. Peaches, because they are too good to resist. Sunshine on my shoulders, bike grease on my hands. “Do you always get this much stuff” because the bag was so heavy. 5 ears of corn. Ride home, dead man walking, dead man gone. Sun. Home. K and M home, too. Some water, some rest. Clean the kitchen — more guests coming. avocado brie toast. Clean out the cooler. Thank you, K. Onto the Grove, for movies. Missed movie…Crate and Barrel. Wanting to own every piece of furniture. “Where do you send your samples?” and Barbara. Loving everything. Teeny spoon. Too late again, fourth row? A fourth friend. Seated two by two, laughing inappropriate loud throughout — parts funny, and not. Movie over, 6:40. Just like she said.

Home, change, borrow clothes, Corelyn you’re a saint. Pink Taco. For five. At eight. No, for three. At eight thirty. Slowly back to five…friends, stories, epic stories, family trees, timelines. Tahiti. Not going to Tahiti. Ever. It’s a volcano. So many tacos, so good. Sangria, by the pitcher, because we can. Dark atmosphere, light hearts.

Outside. Dark. 10:00. Photographs on the stairs, by the blue wall. Jumping, jumping high fives, band photos. I am the lead singer. Smiles, not smiles, advertisements for who knows what. “Remember when we had a band?” “Oh, you mean Frost?” Because I had forgotten we named it. “Just kiss her.” More photos. Tree lights, Jeff lying on the ground, photos. Mannequins, poses, smiles, laughing. “You know what would be a great shot?” Three cameras. 11:02. Let’s get out of here, Diddy Riese.

Diddy Riese. Short line. Share a sandwich, taste all three. More laughs, more smiles. 11:48. “Would you like to be in our short documentary?” Are you sleep deprived? Yes, right now. Laughs, chats. Snapped Achilles? Interesting story. Visual journalism. So, so nice to meet you, good luck. 12:00. In the car, home. 12:20. Best. Weekend. Ever.

Friday morning = successful as all get out.

So last night I went to my cousin AJ’s house to have dinner with a few of her friends and her fiance, Dan. We had chicken cordon bleu, which was DELICIOUS, and baked potatoes, and spinach with feta, tomatoes, onion, and garlic. So good. We also had deviled eggs for appetizers, which had avocado in them. Let me tell you: so good, I could die and go to heaven.

But, after eating that, I knew. I knew that I had to get up at 5:45 this morning and go to the gym. Because I couldn’t go after work today (I have drinks AND a dinner, two groups of friends) and I don’t have a lunch today, so I have to eat out. You see my dilemma.

So, after promising myself I’d be getting Jamba Juice for lunch, and maybe a side salad with no dressing, and after getting into bed at 10:08, I really saw no reason to not get up. I would still get nearly 8 hours of sleep. I would have worked out before coffee, before Stephanie Miller, before whatever crazy thing awaited me at work.

But wait, I said to myself. I would have to shower at the gym. That requires sandals, clothes, a towel, shampoo, etc. I voiced this opinion out loud to Jeff. Who replied, “Well, why don’t you go to the gym, come back, and then shower at home?”

So I did. 5:22, my alarm went off, and I had to convince myself to get out of bed. Which I did, at 5:45. I got up, got dressed, brushed my teeth (which I totally deserve brownie points for), and got all my stuff together. I went down to the car. I got in. I drove. I got to the gym, I parallel parked (more brownie points), and got into the gym. At 6:08, I was getting on the treadmill.

I forgot my socks. I ran for 2 minutes and nearly died. I walked on an incline, as Nikki told me to. I ran again. I slowed down. I walked. I ran for 2 minutes (from 8 minutes to 10) and then jumped off. Enough was enough. I switched to the bike. After all — I had no SOCKS. I biked for 5 minutes, trying to tell the bike how long I wanted to workout for, and finally did. Then 15 minutes doing rolling hills at level 10. While I biked, I tried to convince myself that no, my lungs are NOT actually going to fall out, and I tried to watch Charmed, which is just bad in the later seasons, no matter how tired you are.

I hopped off the bike at 6:44, weary, but done. Done for the day. Ready for coffee. Ready for work. I went home, showered, whispered to Jeff that he owed me ten dollar.s (He double dog dared me that I wouldn’t go.) I got to work at 7:59. On time, for the first time in probably a week. (Or two, if I’m being honest with myself.)

This weekend is busy, and I am glad I worked out this morning so I feel less guilty having a beer tonight, and maybe having a fistful of tortilla chips at dinner…

A continued battle: my feet.

Now, all of you who are constant readers know that my feet and I don’t always get along. As I type, I am rolling my feet on tennis balls, hoping to loosen my muscles before Yoga tonight. They tend to get tight during Yoga, when I need them to keep me in tree or triangle or warrior 3, and so I am hoping this will help the day.

Last night, I jumped on an elliptical machine, hoping to try something new. I set the time to twenty minutes, after spending five minutes trying to figure out exactly how to WORK the machine. (it kept telling me my target heart rate of 160 was unsafe, what?) Then I just listened to my tunes, trying not to fall off the machine or knock anyone around me. This proved harder than I thought, and around minute 10 I was sure I was going to fall off. I tried to hold onto the longer supports with my hands, but that only made it worse, and I nearly flung myself into the bike machines. So I kept them on the middle supports, heart rate monitor broken.

My feet slowly revolted, saying “no, thanks” and I began to slow down. I eventually got off (at 20 minutes) and went over to the bikes. Ahh, 10 minutes of a hard cardio workout. That’s better. Nikki insists if I walk on an incline or run I’ll be OK, but after my feet hurting that much, I don’t know. I guess I’ll only know if I try, which I intend to do: soon. Real soon. For now, I’ll stick to 11 mile bike rides, yoga, and the occasional kick boxing.

What are all of you doing for exercise these days?

Sunday is…

waking up before your alarm. ten minutes to nine. first stop: kitchen. waffles, with the neighbor. attempted Amish Friendship bread: failure leading to tomato, onion, cheese omelet. one failed waffle. five good ones. bacon. breakfast as a family, four become one. dishes with your boyfriend. a clean kitchen. house alone. breathe in, breathe out. smooth legs, smooth summer sun. strapping your yoga mat to your b a c k. a bike ride. yoga. s t r e t c h i n g. triangle pose. raise your hand if you’re having fun. giggles abound. Brett Dennen and Alex Murdoch. Amoeba music. Five new CDS. Matt Nathanson, times two. Joshua Radin. Carbon Leaf. Lady Antebellum. Love.  b a c k o n y o u r b i k e. home. a quiet house. Barbara Kingslover. finally finishing Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. summer sun still high. peppermint tea. sweatshirts. photos uploaded. PW Challenge ready to be tackled. three more recipes. hours with a friend who can make me giggle when giggling seems a cardinal sin.

life and love, all messy, most of the time.