Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Friday, December 20, 2013
Breathing in, breathing out
This has been a big two weeks - Noddie's dance concert week (final classes, photo shoot, stop-start and dress rehearsals and two performances) was followed in tragically rapid succession by the passing away of the Spousal Unit's mother in the early hours of Monday morning. It was very peaceful and gentle, the best way you could ask for I suppose.Since then there has been the organisation of two services 350km apart; one for the family at the country cemetery where my mother-in-law wanted to be interred, and one back here. We're full up the wazoo with restaurant food, church-lady pointy sandwiches and slice and I never want to hear K.D. Lang's 'hallelujia' ever again. Thank goodness I am uber-prepared for Christmas and have an admin assistant I could ring up at 7am on Monday to ring all my clients and cancel their appointments (thanks Mum!). J is still in shock, his dad is shattered and Noddie is so sad it's just heartbreaking. I've been shoving whatever's at hand into my mouth just to keep moving and there has been no exercise whatsoever. I'm not weighing myself for at least a week, and after I finish this I'm not getting off the couch for several days.
I did attend my physio appointment this week and in a much-needed ray of sunshine, we think we have identified The Problem at last. Apparently when most people activate their abs, both their upper and lower abs join in. Not mine, it seems. They just sit peering about vaguely, saying 'huh?' when requested to do their bit. Well, not any more. The lazy little bastards are about to get the shock of their lives when I pummel them with the new exercises the physio gave me. Bwahahaha! And I'm allowed to swim again - not freestyle yet, just breaststroke and backstroke but I'm not whingeing no no no noooo. Also allowed to cycle again as often and as far as I like.
Edit: I have just been to the pool; I got tired alarmingly early but it was lovely anyway.
More anon, plodders-on
I did attend my physio appointment this week and in a much-needed ray of sunshine, we think we have identified The Problem at last. Apparently when most people activate their abs, both their upper and lower abs join in. Not mine, it seems. They just sit peering about vaguely, saying 'huh?' when requested to do their bit. Well, not any more. The lazy little bastards are about to get the shock of their lives when I pummel them with the new exercises the physio gave me. Bwahahaha! And I'm allowed to swim again - not freestyle yet, just breaststroke and backstroke but I'm not whingeing no no no noooo. Also allowed to cycle again as often and as far as I like.
Edit: I have just been to the pool; I got tired alarmingly early but it was lovely anyway.
More anon, plodders-on
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
11/12/13
had to head this with the date bc it's so fun to write!... and there isn't much else going on. Operation 'completely rebuild my gait so my knees track properly' grinds its interminable way on. I'm almost numb to thoughts of one day being able to do something fun like swimming or running. One day I will get fit again. I will. I just have to keep doing the stupid boring upsetting painful exercises
important basic stuff now, over and over and over, whether or not it
makes me sad becuase it's so obvious how very very far I have to go.
That will get me there.Still, summer is here and so is Christmas, my tree is up, the house is full of tinsel, the cards have been posted and it's Noddie's dance concert on the weekend which has become good fun now I'm not so terrified of the backstage mums.
more anon, tinselators!
Wednesday, December 04, 2013
No no no
abs didn't activate - I made them activate
glutes didn't activate - I'm making them activate
no walking, no swimming - I don't walk or swim
nearly drown in anger and shame and sadness - I work out how to reframe it and be ok
went to the gym the other night and was all excited becuase I got to do some cool stuff on the bosu ball, which was hard and required concentrating like a mofo. I had fun. I felt good! (not happening so much lately so I hung onto it all day).
went to the physio today - glutes still not activating, and my knees turn in! I knew that, but I thought it was just how they were - apparently it's functional, not structural. I have to undo 45 years of wonky-kneed bipedalling. Somehow.
no swimming
no elliptical
no bosu ball
short rides only
as for running hahahahahahahahahahaha
[swear word]
glutes didn't activate - I'm making them activate
no walking, no swimming - I don't walk or swim
nearly drown in anger and shame and sadness - I work out how to reframe it and be ok
went to the gym the other night and was all excited becuase I got to do some cool stuff on the bosu ball, which was hard and required concentrating like a mofo. I had fun. I felt good! (not happening so much lately so I hung onto it all day).
went to the physio today - glutes still not activating, and my knees turn in! I knew that, but I thought it was just how they were - apparently it's functional, not structural. I have to undo 45 years of wonky-kneed bipedalling. Somehow.
no swimming
no elliptical
no bosu ball
short rides only
as for running hahahahahahahahahahaha
[swear word]
Friday, November 22, 2013
Motto for the week
And on a MUCH MORE IMPORTANT NOTE....
are we all getting up early on Sunday/staying up late on Saturday to watch the Dr Who 50th anniversary special? Of course we are.
oh come now, we all want to be River Song
More anon, sonic screwdrivers!
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Captain Obvious
Much cogitation has occurred within the LBTEPA noggin of late.
I have come to the conclusion that speaking to my former friend about her decisions would be pointless. She can do what she wants and I am not judging her. I don't choose to have people like her in my life. Noddie, being ten, is all for telling her to drop dead and that I hope those medals are worth 15 years of friendship, but the only reason I would do that would be so she felt terribly guilty and didn't enjoy her experience. Revenge, if you will. Not my best self, so not happening (although I did have a very vivid dream in which I gave her absolute what-for and awoke feeling very satisfied). Mind you if she pushes the issue I promise nothing.
I caught up with the mighty Emma on the weekend - always a pleasure! - and we discussed what we would do if we had the urge to do a race the other had dreamed of but had been unable to do. I said at the time that I'd discuss it, ask permission almost - but I was wrong! If, for example, I decided all of a sudden that I wanted to have a crack at Coast to Kosi, Emma's dream race (she's insane), I wouldn't discuss it with her before entering it. I wouldn't do it. It's her dream, not mine, and I wouldn't rub her nose in the fact she couldn't have it. Why? Because she's my friend.
I suppose the way I've summed it up for myself is that my former friend can have anything she wants but not everything she wants.
Now enough about that.
I've come to the belated conclusion that I have been going about this while new exercise/food/drink regime to wrong way. For the first while I was focussed on 'shoulds' - I should have done this, shouldn't have done that etc. This is wrong, I can't do it, it's too hard. I was feeling sick about going to the gym, I wasn't enjoying my food, I felt guilty all the time. I was often nearly in tears. I was drowning in failure. It was unpleasant.
Then somehow I managed to see it another way. I think it began the week I logged my planned and actual exercise - and five out of seven didn't work out, for reasons including I chose spending time with my family over the gym, my mother-in-law's nursing care was unacceptable so I had to storm up to the hospital and Sort It Out, I wanted to keep going and finish a craft project I've been mucking around on fifteen minutes at a time for months, and choosing to work late so I could have a full day off instead of spending Friday in the office. One of the workouts didn't happen at all (shame! shame!), but on the other days I did something else. I wasn't a failure at all! I was only calling myself that! (slaps forehead, says 'duh!'). It's not as though I'm training for anything in particular - anthing si enough, for the moment! Duh!
I had another 'duh!' moment this week. As my five faithful readers know, LBTEPA is partial to a sherby. I know it's the reason I've gained so much weight, but somehow not-getting-any-fatter wasn't a good enough reason to not indulge. Being lardy with no clothes that fit just made me sadder and want another drink! I know, I know.... lame lame lame. My weight is, however, a clear factor in the slowness of my rehab, and the other day it occurred to me that every day without alcohol is a day closer to racing again. OMG! See? Duh! Uber-duh!I don't know how long it will work, but I plan to ride that rattler as far as it goes.
More anon, hobos!
I have come to the conclusion that speaking to my former friend about her decisions would be pointless. She can do what she wants and I am not judging her. I don't choose to have people like her in my life. Noddie, being ten, is all for telling her to drop dead and that I hope those medals are worth 15 years of friendship, but the only reason I would do that would be so she felt terribly guilty and didn't enjoy her experience. Revenge, if you will. Not my best self, so not happening (although I did have a very vivid dream in which I gave her absolute what-for and awoke feeling very satisfied). Mind you if she pushes the issue I promise nothing.
I caught up with the mighty Emma on the weekend - always a pleasure! - and we discussed what we would do if we had the urge to do a race the other had dreamed of but had been unable to do. I said at the time that I'd discuss it, ask permission almost - but I was wrong! If, for example, I decided all of a sudden that I wanted to have a crack at Coast to Kosi, Emma's dream race (she's insane), I wouldn't discuss it with her before entering it. I wouldn't do it. It's her dream, not mine, and I wouldn't rub her nose in the fact she couldn't have it. Why? Because she's my friend.
I suppose the way I've summed it up for myself is that my former friend can have anything she wants but not everything she wants.
Now enough about that.
I've come to the belated conclusion that I have been going about this while new exercise/food/drink regime to wrong way. For the first while I was focussed on 'shoulds' - I should have done this, shouldn't have done that etc. This is wrong, I can't do it, it's too hard. I was feeling sick about going to the gym, I wasn't enjoying my food, I felt guilty all the time. I was often nearly in tears. I was drowning in failure. It was unpleasant.
Then somehow I managed to see it another way. I think it began the week I logged my planned and actual exercise - and five out of seven didn't work out, for reasons including I chose spending time with my family over the gym, my mother-in-law's nursing care was unacceptable so I had to storm up to the hospital and Sort It Out, I wanted to keep going and finish a craft project I've been mucking around on fifteen minutes at a time for months, and choosing to work late so I could have a full day off instead of spending Friday in the office. One of the workouts didn't happen at all (shame! shame!), but on the other days I did something else. I wasn't a failure at all! I was only calling myself that! (slaps forehead, says 'duh!'). It's not as though I'm training for anything in particular - anthing si enough, for the moment! Duh!
I had another 'duh!' moment this week. As my five faithful readers know, LBTEPA is partial to a sherby. I know it's the reason I've gained so much weight, but somehow not-getting-any-fatter wasn't a good enough reason to not indulge. Being lardy with no clothes that fit just made me sadder and want another drink! I know, I know.... lame lame lame. My weight is, however, a clear factor in the slowness of my rehab, and the other day it occurred to me that every day without alcohol is a day closer to racing again. OMG! See? Duh! Uber-duh!I don't know how long it will work, but I plan to ride that rattler as far as it goes.
More anon, hobos!
Monday, November 18, 2013
Sunday, November 10, 2013
quick question
Oh my but I have SUCH lot to write - so many (ahem) 'profound' thoughts to record for posterity!
But today I have a question for you, my five faithful readers.
Just suppose you were a heavyish middle-aged-ish Very Slow Marathoner who had A Big (and very expensive) Dream of running an amazing race in a Magic Kingdom on the other side of the world. Suppose you worked hard and saved up and trained and dreamed of little else for a couple of years. And just suppose fate cruelly snatched that Big Dream from you by way of a last-minute injury, while still obliging you to travel across the world and keep a stiff upper lip while your nose was rubbed in what you couldn't have.Suppose you did this with as good grace and as much gratitude as you could muster, becuase life isn't all about you, and returned home, and got on with life, and then had another injury, one that sometimes seemed endless. Sometimes you wondered if you would ever get your athletic life back again, ever. And always, always, you got on with stoically mourning that Big expensive Dream on the other side of the world.
Then suppose you had travelled several hours to celebrate the birthday of a someone who you would have considered one of your dearest, closest, have-your-back-no-matter-what friends, with whom you have shared many trials and tribulations over these fifteen years and to whom you speak regularly. During conversation at this dinner party it came up that she herself was going across the world to run at the magic kingdom next January. Seven weeks from now she will be wearing those three medals that you so longed for.
She'd never heard of the race until you told her about it.
It sold out in August and she has only mentioned it to you yesterday becuase someone else made a comment.
She's extremely well off and could afford to do any race on the ****ing planet if she wanted to.
She's done two half marathons and one full to date.
Now suppose that some time over the next frozen day you decide that, whilst acknowledging unreservedly that she has every right to go wherever she pleases, you don't need people like that in your life.
Question: do you tell her you never want to see or hear from her again and she sure as F*** better not wear her Team SD shirt to run Goofy, or just very determinedly and politely (for that is the LBTEPA way) let the friendship go?
The vote here at chez LBTEPA is tied. I'm torn, but leaning toward the latter approach. You?
More anon, cogitators!
But today I have a question for you, my five faithful readers.
Just suppose you were a heavyish middle-aged-ish Very Slow Marathoner who had A Big (and very expensive) Dream of running an amazing race in a Magic Kingdom on the other side of the world. Suppose you worked hard and saved up and trained and dreamed of little else for a couple of years. And just suppose fate cruelly snatched that Big Dream from you by way of a last-minute injury, while still obliging you to travel across the world and keep a stiff upper lip while your nose was rubbed in what you couldn't have.Suppose you did this with as good grace and as much gratitude as you could muster, becuase life isn't all about you, and returned home, and got on with life, and then had another injury, one that sometimes seemed endless. Sometimes you wondered if you would ever get your athletic life back again, ever. And always, always, you got on with stoically mourning that Big expensive Dream on the other side of the world.
Then suppose you had travelled several hours to celebrate the birthday of a someone who you would have considered one of your dearest, closest, have-your-back-no-matter-what friends, with whom you have shared many trials and tribulations over these fifteen years and to whom you speak regularly. During conversation at this dinner party it came up that she herself was going across the world to run at the magic kingdom next January. Seven weeks from now she will be wearing those three medals that you so longed for.
She'd never heard of the race until you told her about it.
It sold out in August and she has only mentioned it to you yesterday becuase someone else made a comment.
She's extremely well off and could afford to do any race on the ****ing planet if she wanted to.
She's done two half marathons and one full to date.
Now suppose that some time over the next frozen day you decide that, whilst acknowledging unreservedly that she has every right to go wherever she pleases, you don't need people like that in your life.
Question: do you tell her you never want to see or hear from her again and she sure as F*** better not wear her Team SD shirt to run Goofy, or just very determinedly and politely (for that is the LBTEPA way) let the friendship go?
The vote here at chez LBTEPA is tied. I'm torn, but leaning toward the latter approach. You?
More anon, cogitators!
Monday, October 28, 2013
The penny drops
Team LBTEPA had a brilliant time in Sydney.
It is impossible to stop looking at the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge. Stunning.
I *heart* Manly Beach!
Since returning from Sin City your heroine has ventured into other unknown territory, to whit: the colourist's chair at the hair salon! You may henceforth refer to me as Bluey
I'm not used to it yet and still a bit iffy about what it does to my skin tone, but everyone else likes it.
Which leads me to the very loud 'clunk' you may have heard from these parts recently.
It's just sunk in (don't ask why - okIoveratelastweekandthe2kgIlaboriouslyshedhavemadetheirwaybackonindoublequicktimebastards) that I will have to think about everything I eat. All. The Time.
Which means no more winging it - gotta plan, gotta shop, gotta think days in advance about who's home and how many of us there'll be and what we'll be doing and how much cooking time I'll have...ewwww. Tiring and boring even to think about. I'mhoping desperately assuming this feeling will pass, and I'll become happily fascinated by food? Anyone else experienced that?
It also means paying attention to my feelings. All. The Time. No banishing anger and how'mIgunnagetallthisdone panic and weariness and soreness with sugar and carbs. Ewwww.
But you know what? I was reading a blogthe other day and suddenly, bugger the penny, the fifty cent piece - no, the doubloon! - hit the floor with a clang so mighty it woke the dogs.
LBTEPA OWNS HER STUFF.
I OWN THIS SITUATION. It doesn't own me.
Get me a hot steaming mug of HTFU and my food diary.
more anon, Pepys!
285m up? Makes for a better view!
Since returning from Sin City your heroine has ventured into other unknown territory, to whit: the colourist's chair at the hair salon! You may henceforth refer to me as Bluey
Which leads me to the very loud 'clunk' you may have heard from these parts recently.
It's just sunk in (don't ask why - okIoveratelastweekandthe2kgIlaboriouslyshedhavemadetheirwaybackonindoublequicktimebastards) that I will have to think about everything I eat. All. The Time.
Which means no more winging it - gotta plan, gotta shop, gotta think days in advance about who's home and how many of us there'll be and what we'll be doing and how much cooking time I'll have...ewwww. Tiring and boring even to think about. I'm
It also means paying attention to my feelings. All. The Time. No banishing anger and how'mIgunnagetallthisdone panic and weariness and soreness with sugar and carbs. Ewwww.
But you know what? I was reading a blogthe other day and suddenly, bugger the penny, the fifty cent piece - no, the doubloon! - hit the floor with a clang so mighty it woke the dogs.
LBTEPA OWNS HER STUFF.
I OWN THIS SITUATION. It doesn't own me.
Get me a hot steaming mug of HTFU and my food diary.
more anon, Pepys!
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Heading North
what with the Man Of The House away in Melbourne with his parents it's been a matter of squeezing in workouts where I can - two hours between clients is enough time to finish notes, eat, get to the pool, run on the spot at the deep end for half an hour SO FUN. NOT, and return my appearance to the understated elegance so important in my work hahahaha but really, smelling of chlorine simply wouldn't be the thing. I called in my last babysitting markers with Mum (and promised her Foxtel when she gets to the nursing home) so I could hit the gym tonight. I began my session with a consummate demonstration of Rowing Machine Epic Fail, 44 seconds slower than on Sunday for the same distance and RPE (Rate of Perceived Effort - it's all jargon all the time at the gym you know, must fit in!). SO FUN. NOT. But then there were nice clanky machines to heave around and really not that many mirrors. And the music's not bad. I like to keep up with what the kiddies are listening to.
Unfolded washing situation is becoming dire. J's half of the bed is completely covered! I'll have to set the alarm early tomorrow so we have things to pack for Sydney! I've never been there (don't faint) and am looking forward to it very much despite the craziness it's taking to get there.
More anon, fast talkers!
Unfolded washing situation is becoming dire. J's half of the bed is completely covered! I'll have to set the alarm early tomorrow so we have things to pack for Sydney! I've never been there (don't faint) and am looking forward to it very much despite the craziness it's taking to get there.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Yay for everyone!
It's two years since my last race - Melbourne marathon day! Yay to all my friends rebuilding their running lives! And yay to the bloke from our tri club who came 58th overall at Kona today! Yay!
J is in Melbourne with his Dad because his mum is in hospital there. It's all a bit of a worry. I'm here at home having spent a very unpleasant spell in front of the mirrors at the gym. Yeah yeah yeah the truth hurts etc etc. But I did surprise the hot young personal trainer with my rowing machine awesomeness, so that's something. He said we might need to count calories to get the results I want, and I said if that's what it took I'd change what I want. I keep a food diary and I'll adhere to the dietary guidelines he has given me, but my head is just about exploding with all the other **** going on in my life at the 'mo; putting a numeric value on my food is not only against my principles but Just Too F***ing Much right now. I feel so overwhelmed that if I didn't have to fold a cubic metre of washing, kid-wrangle and get the place sorted for the work week and (possibly; see 'sick m-i-l', above) a trip to Sydney next weekend, I'd crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep. Don't say ' so just don't fold it' - we were in such a hurry yesterday to get out the door to drive 2 hours to get J his gear so he could go to Melbourne with his parents that we just pulled the washing off the line and dumped it all on the bed.
*Update: I pushed it into baskets on the floor. It can wait.
But I digress.
My goals for the next few months
- do a chin-up
- the Big Bay Swim
- to not have to buy any more work pants in my current (bigger) size. I have a drawer full of hardly-worn dacks!
- get my shoulders flexible enough to join my hands behind my back better than this bloke can
How was your weekend of awesomeness, comrades?
J is in Melbourne with his Dad because his mum is in hospital there. It's all a bit of a worry. I'm here at home having spent a very unpleasant spell in front of the mirrors at the gym. Yeah yeah yeah the truth hurts etc etc. But I did surprise the hot young personal trainer with my rowing machine awesomeness, so that's something. He said we might need to count calories to get the results I want, and I said if that's what it took I'd change what I want. I keep a food diary and I'll adhere to the dietary guidelines he has given me, but my head is just about exploding with all the other **** going on in my life at the 'mo; putting a numeric value on my food is not only against my principles but Just Too F***ing Much right now. I feel so overwhelmed that if I didn't have to fold a cubic metre of washing, kid-wrangle and get the place sorted for the work week and (possibly; see 'sick m-i-l', above) a trip to Sydney next weekend, I'd crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep. Don't say ' so just don't fold it' - we were in such a hurry yesterday to get out the door to drive 2 hours to get J his gear so he could go to Melbourne with his parents that we just pulled the washing off the line and dumped it all on the bed.
*Update: I pushed it into baskets on the floor. It can wait.
But I digress.
My goals for the next few months
- do a chin-up
- the Big Bay Swim
- to not have to buy any more work pants in my current (bigger) size. I have a drawer full of hardly-worn dacks!
- get my shoulders flexible enough to join my hands behind my back better than this bloke can
Monday, October 07, 2013
Stuff that shouldn't have upset me but sort of did
At the personal training intro session on Sunday I found out lots of new stuff.
I weigh 92 kg on the gym scales
My upper arms are too big for the gym blood pressure machine. They had to get the medical one out of a special bag in a cupboard.
My blood pressure is 135/85 (about 10 points higher on both systolic and diastolic than last time it was checked)
I seem to have shrunk by 3cm since I was 18
My biological age is apparently 61
I can stop myself from crying in public if I have to.
I drink too much tea. I didn't even know that was possible.
Almonds will probably work better for me as a snack than cashews do.
My trainer wants me to count calories. I am not going to. Food is not numbers.
I can only manage 2 minutes at a time on the elliptical, but if I rest for 30 seconds I can do it again nine more times.
Still, as the wonderful Lisa points out, "Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can." (Arthur Ashe)
This all seems very daunting and overwhelming to me, but feelings are not actions. My actions will be about conquering this mountain of unhelpful habits and bodily weakness.
What's the biggest mountain you've ever climbed?
More anon, karabiners!
More anon,
I weigh 92 kg on the gym scales
My upper arms are too big for the gym blood pressure machine. They had to get the medical one out of a special bag in a cupboard.
My blood pressure is 135/85 (about 10 points higher on both systolic and diastolic than last time it was checked)
I seem to have shrunk by 3cm since I was 18
My biological age is apparently 61
I can stop myself from crying in public if I have to.
I drink too much tea. I didn't even know that was possible.
Almonds will probably work better for me as a snack than cashews do.
My trainer wants me to count calories. I am not going to. Food is not numbers.
I can only manage 2 minutes at a time on the elliptical, but if I rest for 30 seconds I can do it again nine more times.
Still, as the wonderful Lisa points out, "Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can." (Arthur Ashe)
This all seems very daunting and overwhelming to me, but feelings are not actions. My actions will be about conquering this mountain of unhelpful habits and bodily weakness.
What's the biggest mountain you've ever climbed?
More anon,
Saturday, October 05, 2013
ODTAA
In the interests of not being All Whingeing All the Time I refrained in my last post from mentioning that I took a misstep on Tuesday morning and my back has been giving me absolute curry ever since. It hurts to walk, it hurts to roll over in bed, it hurts to move suddenly, and it hurt like **** to sit for four hours in a bus on our long-planned school holiday trip to Melbourne and walk around Sovereign Hill and the aquarium for two days. Thankyou anti-inflammatories is all I'm saying. The physio said it was all related to the Wobbly Pelvis of Doom, OF COURSE. Prescription: stupid exercises, stretching, and a good dose of HTFU. I'll start my personal training on Sunday as planned, only about 1000000000000 steps further back than I hoped.
But still, worse things happen at sea.
But still, worse things happen at sea.
More anon, me hearties!
Wednesday, October 02, 2013
Spoke too soon
So your heroine trotted off to the physio to get some advice about the dodgy achilles so the personal training could all go smoothly and appropriately and she could aim for her goals in a sensible and medically appropriate manner.
You know this is going to end badly, don't you? *cue sinister Jaws-type cello music*
He was very thorough. Damn him (only not really). Tight calves, tight lower back - nothing escaped his eagle eye. Nothing. Especially not the (sing it with me, kids!) horribly unstable pelvis! Yes! Again!
So.
The Plan Is This
Many many reps ofstupid tiresome lame-arse what sort of loser can't do that tremendously helpful leg-wiggling exercises designed to finally properly stabilise the Wobbly Core of Doom.
Pool running! Yay! Not.
Rowing machine and cycling! Yay! Really.
No walking or standing (gunna be great fun at the Zoo with Noddie tomorrow. That's what drugs are for)
No running. Well der.
No swimming. There goes my ****ing awesome goal that I was so happy about. ****.
Another day, another setback, eh?
But if there's anything at which LBTEPA excels, it's having a big sook and then getting through setbacks. Bring. It. On.
More anon, big-bang theorists!
You know this is going to end badly, don't you? *cue sinister Jaws-type cello music*
He was very thorough. Damn him (only not really). Tight calves, tight lower back - nothing escaped his eagle eye. Nothing. Especially not the (sing it with me, kids!) horribly unstable pelvis! Yes! Again!
So.
The Plan Is This
Many many reps of
Pool running! Yay! Not.
Rowing machine and cycling! Yay! Really.
No walking or standing (gunna be great fun at the Zoo with Noddie tomorrow. That's what drugs are for)
No running. Well der.
No swimming. There goes my ****ing awesome goal that I was so happy about. ****.
Another day, another setback, eh?
But if there's anything at which LBTEPA excels, it's having a big sook and then getting through setbacks. Bring. It. On.
More anon, big-bang theorists!
Monday, September 30, 2013
The Short Version
I've had about 5 goes at writing this post but I keep getting all show-offy with aren't-I-clever writing and then run out of time and then it's 2 days later and everything's different. So here goes: speed-blogging!
I ummed and errr-ed about a personal trainer.
I went to the gym and to the pool a few times. Nothing bad happened. I have started to feel stronger and more energetic. I like this.
I still can't run. 10 steps on the treadmill and my achilles carries on like a ratty toddler . This is messing with my head. I dreamed I had to have surgery on it nooooooooooooooooooooooo!
but I digress
When J was away for work or working late I sweated it up on the exercise bike and did my core workouts at home (I'm up to Kona 2001 !).
I got a quote to have a cleaner for two hours a week, and decided I could go to the Cook Islands for a week for that kind of money so I'd do it myself*.
I was very ambivalent about this personal trainer thing.
I should be motivated enough to do it myself. What if they're sorry for me or think I'm a whinger? I sound like a whinger to myself! What if it IS too hard to get fit again? What if I can't do it? What if I FAIL?It's a lot of money (not as much as that cleaner though, sheesh!). Is it being a big la-la to want a middle aged lady trainer so there's no possibility of being judged or condescended to by the young hot bloke PT?
On Sunday I put on my togs and packed my pull buoy and towel and goggles and a big heavy pile of ambivalence into my gym bag and headed off. If this young hot bloke PT is on duty at the gym after I've done my laps, I said to myself, I'll talk to him. That way I've talked to all of them. I don't have to make up my mind today.
So I did my laps.
He was on duty.
I start on Sunday!
I'm all excited! I'm a bit nervous and extremely ambivalent (see above; also he's "very strong on nutrition" which could be (ahem) 'a challenge'), but I'm excited! I even have a goal!
More anon, sweaters!
*We ARE going to Cook Islands for a week, in March! Whee!
I ummed and errr-ed about a personal trainer.
I went to the gym and to the pool a few times. Nothing bad happened. I have started to feel stronger and more energetic. I like this.
I still can't run. 10 steps on the treadmill and my achilles carries on like a ratty toddler . This is messing with my head. I dreamed I had to have surgery on it nooooooooooooooooooooooo!
but I digress
When J was away for work or working late I sweated it up on the exercise bike and did my core workouts at home (I'm up to Kona 2001 !).
I got a quote to have a cleaner for two hours a week, and decided I could go to the Cook Islands for a week for that kind of money so I'd do it myself*.
I was very ambivalent about this personal trainer thing.
I should be motivated enough to do it myself. What if they're sorry for me or think I'm a whinger? I sound like a whinger to myself! What if it IS too hard to get fit again? What if I can't do it? What if I FAIL?It's a lot of money (not as much as that cleaner though, sheesh!). Is it being a big la-la to want a middle aged lady trainer so there's no possibility of being judged or condescended to by the young hot bloke PT?
On Sunday I put on my togs and packed my pull buoy and towel and goggles and a big heavy pile of ambivalence into my gym bag and headed off. If this young hot bloke PT is on duty at the gym after I've done my laps, I said to myself, I'll talk to him. That way I've talked to all of them. I don't have to make up my mind today.
So I did my laps.
He was on duty.
I start on Sunday!
I'm all excited! I'm a bit nervous and extremely ambivalent (see above; also he's "very strong on nutrition" which could be (ahem) 'a challenge'), but I'm excited! I even have a goal!
More anon, sweaters!
*We ARE going to Cook Islands for a week, in March! Whee!
Friday, September 20, 2013
lemme 'splain
no - ees too much. Lemme sum up.
I am very much aware and grateful that overall I have an awesome life. I am lucky. I am capable and determined and well-resourced. My blog is where I put all the bleaty shit that I need to stop swirling around my head and dragging me down so I can force myself to put on my togs and go to the pool or get out the door for yet another aborted run or stand in front of those bastard mirrors at the gym or line up the 2000 Kona replay and hop on the stupid boring go-nowhere but it'll-have-to-do-when-J-is-working-late bike.
I'm REALLY SAD about how unfit I am and how heavy I am and how all of that plus the ankle reco and the niggly shoulder from the crutches and the painful achilles and the b**** who switched my body-shame up several notches adds up to making rebuilding my fitness a bloody big job, and not one that be approached with have-at-it balls-to-the-wall gung-ho derring-do. Guts and glory won't work here. I have be patient. Take my time. Slow slow slow. Sucking it up. Always sucking it up. Seeing myself in photos and not cringeing. Walking around Melbourne and not going into shoe shops or running shops and squashing the that-used-to-be-me sadness when I see all the runners - and Melbourne is a great place to run; there are runners everywhere. Trying to not feel like a complete failure for some stretches, a few pushups and some core work at 8.45 pm becuase that's all I can bring myself to do after all the day's stuff is done. Sucking up the sadness and shame and doing it. Smiling and staying in touch with my good generous happy-for-you self when everyone else is celebrating their running groups and their 10ks and their tris. Sucking it up when the task seems so very big and feeling good again seems so very far away.
I have thought of a personal trainer, but I need someone who understands very very slow rehab of an overweight (obese if you ask the always accurate and helpful BMI) middle aged endurance athlete. I don't know whether there's anyone around here like that. I need a miracle man* who won't rush me 'cause you know, you rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles. I'll go to the gym and ask today though. You never know.
I know what to do.
I'm not going to give up.
I will feel strong and fit again one day. If it's medically possible I will run another marathon or several and swim long distances and do triathlons.
I am sucking it up even though the task seems so very big and feeling good again seems so very far away. Almost inconceivable
My name is LBTEPA you killed my father. prepare to die and I am fat and middle-aged and injured and I am not ever giving up.
More anon, swordsmen!
*or woman
I am very much aware and grateful that overall I have an awesome life. I am lucky. I am capable and determined and well-resourced. My blog is where I put all the bleaty shit that I need to stop swirling around my head and dragging me down so I can force myself to put on my togs and go to the pool or get out the door for yet another aborted run or stand in front of those bastard mirrors at the gym or line up the 2000 Kona replay and hop on the stupid boring go-nowhere but it'll-have-to-do-when-J-is-working-late bike.
I'm REALLY SAD about how unfit I am and how heavy I am and how all of that plus the ankle reco and the niggly shoulder from the crutches and the painful achilles and the b**** who switched my body-shame up several notches adds up to making rebuilding my fitness a bloody big job, and not one that be approached with have-at-it balls-to-the-wall gung-ho derring-do. Guts and glory won't work here. I have be patient. Take my time. Slow slow slow. Sucking it up. Always sucking it up. Seeing myself in photos and not cringeing. Walking around Melbourne and not going into shoe shops or running shops and squashing the that-used-to-be-me sadness when I see all the runners - and Melbourne is a great place to run; there are runners everywhere. Trying to not feel like a complete failure for some stretches, a few pushups and some core work at 8.45 pm becuase that's all I can bring myself to do after all the day's stuff is done. Sucking up the sadness and shame and doing it. Smiling and staying in touch with my good generous happy-for-you self when everyone else is celebrating their running groups and their 10ks and their tris. Sucking it up when the task seems so very big and feeling good again seems so very far away.
I have thought of a personal trainer, but I need someone who understands very very slow rehab of an overweight (obese if you ask the always accurate and helpful BMI) middle aged endurance athlete. I don't know whether there's anyone around here like that. I need a miracle man* who won't rush me 'cause you know, you rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles. I'll go to the gym and ask today though. You never know.
I know what to do.
I'm not going to give up.
I will feel strong and fit again one day. If it's medically possible I will run another marathon or several and swim long distances and do triathlons.
I am sucking it up even though the task seems so very big and feeling good again seems so very far away. Almost inconceivable
More anon, swordsmen!
*or woman
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Rubik's rehab
is what you call it when everything is so weak and unbalanced that overdoing one thing a teeny bit creates problems elsewhere, to whit: I have a sore achilles tendon. Bugger. Dr G00gle has told me to rest and NSAID like it's my job so running is off the schedule again. *pout* Still, there's always y0utube: an absolute angel of a person has uploaded every single Kona Ironman special since 1992! Awful hair, high-cut togs and riding through T1, and of course the Ironwar - me and my exercise bike are So There!
Noddie and I are back to the Big Smoke to see her dermatologist at the Children's Hospital on Friday, as the side effects of her psoriasis medication are unacceptable. We'd already planned to see Bang Crash Tap on Saturday so we are just staying up another night. The Zoo, St Kilda Beach, the theatre andpossiblysomeshoppingIadmitnothing Here We Come!!
Noddie and I are back to the Big Smoke to see her dermatologist at the Children's Hospital on Friday, as the side effects of her psoriasis medication are unacceptable. We'd already planned to see Bang Crash Tap on Saturday so we are just staying up another night. The Zoo, St Kilda Beach, the theatre andpossiblysomeshoppingIadmitnothing Here We Come!!
Saturday, September 07, 2013
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