Skip to main content

Chapter 5 - Where did January go?


Have you ever sat down to read a good book, only to realize that 3 hours later, you’ve already devoured 5 chapters worth of introduction, plot development, and imagery? How is that I’ve managed to lose myself so quickly in 2014, finding 5 chapters gone in this book of the coming year? I swear I just finished reading everyone’s New Year’s blog posts on resolutions and goals, feeling inspired by what others might do so that I can better shape and plan my own endeavors. Has the month of January—the month of endless Starbucks drinks and cloudy days—really come to an end?

I suppose it’s too late to post my New Year’s hopes and dreams for 2014. I suppose you might think the time for dreaming, scheming, and planning has already passed us by. However, I feel I’m just getting started! Two days ago I cut the chains that have confined me to my books and forced me to study. I sat for that exam on Wednesday and answered question after question on a test designed to determine if I am a worthy physical therapist. While I feel good about the prospects of passing it, the nerves and worrying have yet to cease. I will not feel my normal self until the results have found my email inbox.

An incredibly challenging 5 weeks this has been, not just from the standpoint of studying, but also from the initiation of Boston Marathon training. Officially, the first of January marked the commencement of “the plan.” You can imagine the sticker shock I felt when, upon completing the first week, I went from running 30-35 miles per week to a staggering 42-47. I’ve decided my coach is badass. To be a badass, one must learn from the master of all badasses. (I’m sorry if you didn’t want this kind of distinction, Derek.) But seriously, I feel more badass.

I also feel strong. Unlike last year, I’m running injury-free. I can’t even remember the time when knee pain didn’t impede my performance and frustrate my mental strength. It has always torn me down. Right now? Nothing. It’s as if someone slipped in during my sleep and replaced a worn knee with a brand new one. Yet I know the real reason I’ve managed to stave off pain is by religiously keeping up my strength training. TheraBand has become my new friend.

Today, the sun shines. I can’t even remember the last day I saw the sun. It plays nicely with the 4 new inches of snow that have fallen over the last couple of days. Maci sleeps, but she’ll awaken at the prospects of a walk. Bryan works, but he’ll soon return home. I look forward to finishing chapter 5 with a weekend full of fitness testing, playing in the snow, and football. Go Seahawks! 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My opinion...For what it's worth

My first Half Ironman 70.3 turned into Boise 29.3. I may be the only one to say that I respect the officials' judgment call on this one, because apparently, a few of my triathlete comrades lack sufficient brains themselves. The comments I'm reading on Facebook leave me pretty disturbed. Let me just put this out there: I entered this sport because it looked tough and challenging. It pushes anyone who enters these races to their ultimate limits and requires a demanding amount of time to complete the training necessary to succeed. I entered this sport because of the people. Healthy, smart, fit, inspiring, motivating. I can't think of a single person who has questioned my ability to participate in this sport. I entered this sport because anyone can do it. I passed people younger and older than me, some as old as 74. I watched one woman hobble along the run course, surely just on her first lap. She looked like her knees were going to cave in. Yet she was running. I did not ent

Pain loves misery. Misery loves company.

I remember running through complete darkness along the paved trail between Moscow and Pullman during my years studying at University of Idaho. Five years ago, my training consisted entirely of running. Cycling served as something to do on the weekends, and swimming didn’t even exist until my sophomore year. What I remember most, however, revolves around the early morning runs. I awoke at 4:30, donned my warmest clothes, started my GPS, and turned my headlamp on in preparation for eight to ten miles of farmland along a lonely stretch of highway. Running served as my outlet. I buried myself in 20+ credits of biology, chemistry, physics, and human anatomy courses to fill my time. And fill my time it did. So running every morning was my recourse to stay sane. Every. Lonely. Morning. It wasn’t until the thrill of riding my bike overtook me did I realize riding alone—training alone—hardly compared to the enjoyment of working out with other people. My dad always stressed the importance of r

Noosa Triathlon - The Grand Finale

I looked out into the surf and watched the waves churn and roll, crash, then churn and roll again. Supposedly, I signed up for this, along with the 7000 other athletes who stood on the shore with me, questioning their own sanity. These Aussies grew up swimming in this insanity on the daily, and their numbers far exceeded that of my fellow Americans. Nevertheless, I puckered up my American ass and tried to stand tall and confident to the waves. I watched Natalie Van Coevorden scheme and plan her strategy, pointing out toward the buoys. Not until the gun went off did I realize that plan involved running at least 100 meters down the shoreline before we jumped into the water. Interesting. I never would have thought to do that, considering my open water swimming experience in ocean rip and waves is virtually non-existent. When confronted with a situation such as this, I have learned to fake it. Pretend I know what I'm doing. I can do it. I can swim with the best of them. Then I jump