Beware of dog

So...I went to see a sports doctor about my ongoing issues with plantar-however-you-spell-it-faciitis. While chatting with the doc, I mentioned that my knee was bothering me a little after my dog ran right into me (it's a good thing I love that dog as much as I do). Okay - maybe it was bothering me more than "a little." But, after two knee surgeries, I just didn't want to deal with the sharp knee pain I felt when trying to straighten my leg. I figured a little ice and Advil would take care of any issues, right?

Umm...maybe not.

I have what is known as a "meniscal cyst" - which, I have now learned, is commonly a symptom of a meniscus tear. We'll know more after next Tuesday's MRI.

It's possible I already had a small meniscus tear - and the force of my sweet, goofball dog's body slamming into my knee tore it a little more. Who knows. I have already had a conversation with Josie about her need to use more self-control around my tender knees. She wagged and licked me. I gave her a little pat and said it was okay.

And it really is okay.  I'm surprisingly okay with this possibility. My knee isn't hurting much at all, with the exception of when I try to run. So, I'm not running. A rather simple solution - but one that I'm not always very smart about doing. I can swim and bike as much as I like. So, that's what I'll do. I'm at a point in my life where I'm much more interested in being healthy and happy and pain-free.
I'm thinking I might do an aquabike event here and there next year as my friends and hubby gear up for their next big Ironman. We'll see.

And - I will be much more vigilant of my dog when she does her little "run around like a puppy" routine.

Random Post

So...I've had no real training plan this fall and it's been kind of nice. I decided to take a break from triathlons until 2011 or 2012 or whenever the spirit moves me. Maybe it will...maybe it won't. I have gotten back into twice/week strength training which my old body definitely needs. I've been swimming a little - and by that I mean once in the past three weeks. Luckily, ProK will soon be kicking my slack butt again soon. (Oh no...does that mean I have to try that insane butterfly stroke again? Talk about feeling uncoordinated...)

And I'm running more - about 3 times/week. I've run in Asics for years, but I've decided that I'm not a fan of those clunkers anymore, especially when the dreaded plantar fascitis reared its ugly head again. It plagues me - and I'm blaming the shoes.

After doing some research and chatting with the nice guy @ the Short Pump 3sports, I have switched to some super-light Sauconys. I LOVE them. I ran yesterday with Rick and actually felt kinda peppy at the end of the run. (Or maybe I was just elated that I was not running 20 miles like my somewhat crazy hubby). Whatever the reason, it was a gorgeous morning for a run.

Anti-Garmin

A few weeks ago (while trying to get organized), I found my old Garmin. It's one of the older versions, but it still works. Of course, I immediately became entranced in figuring out how to get the thing working (instead of cleaning out some boxes of junk - I can be such a good avoider of mundane tasks). Despite the fact that the Garmin was twice the size of my wrist and basically looked like some kind of James Bond gadget, I decided to use it to pace my runs.

I discovered that I do not like it one bit.

The Garmin completely sucked the joy of running right out of me. I mean seriously - do I really need to know how slowly I'm running up a hill or how erratic my pace can really be? I don't think so. I found myself checking my pace about every other minute. What I should've been doing - which I've done all my life - is to rely on how I feel. Do I feel like I could hold this pace all day or do I feel like I might pass out?And most importantly - am I enjoying this experience?

Before the Garmin, the only time I even thought about about my pace was a) during a track workout or b) in a race. And these days (considering what my knees have been through), I don't give my pace much thought.

I just run because I like it - and I can (thankfully) do it again.

This morning I put the Garmin back in the box I found it in. I laced up my running shoes and headed out on a run. I took in the gorgeous blue sky and felt the strong breeze on my face. Yup - I enjoyed that experience.

HOT

Umm...so it's really, really hot in Richmond these days (in case you missed that minor fact).  Obviously, it makes sense that I would try out Bikram yoga (also called "hot" yoga) on a day where the temperature in the shade was over 100.
In my defense, I've been wanting to add some form of yoga to my workout repertoire (thank you Rusty for inspiring me).  I checked out the wide variety of classes at one studio and was...overwhelmed.  How the heck do I know which type of yoga to choose? Sure - I could check out each class and decide, but that makes way too much sense.
My buddy Debbie Jo reminded me of good ol' Bikram yoga. Years ago (like eight or nine), I tried it and actually liked it. I remember vaguely that it was extremely hard - almost to the point of misery - and that I sweat like crazy.  And that one time, I almost passed out. I am not averse to passing out while working out (remember - my nickname is four-bagger)...so...I signed up for a class.
First, I made the really smart decision to go for a long (for me) run in the heat. But, I ran with my friends from Team in Training so how could I miss that?
I followed that up with not eating or drinking enough post-run (which is rare for me - I love eating post workout).
I did survive my 90 minute bikram yoga class.

Barely.

It was oh so humbling because I'm not flexible and I definitely was struggling to adapt to the heat in the yoga room (yup - they keep it at a solid 105 degrees).
But, I liked it. It's an incredibly supportive group. I realized pretty quickly that no one cared if I...well...sucked. Once that class was over (and I was able to regroup with my icy cold lavender scented towel) I was so proud that I actually stayed in the darn room and even attempted some of the postures. And - get this - an hour or so later (after I HAD eaten and drank enough), I felt...great. 

I'm going back this week.

Tidewater: post race

Once upon a time there were four friends, Molly, Mary, Rick & Susie, who enjoyed competing in triathlons together. Apparently, they enjoyed socializing even more.

Example A: last weekend, Mary finished second in her age group.

Where were we at this exciting moment?

Yup - that's right. We were getting comfortable at the adult beverage tent. Completely missed the ceremony.

Big News....

So...after seven years in higher education, I have made the bold (some might say crazy) decision to return to teaching the little ones.
What? Why? Huh? You might be thinking. Well, years ago, when I first began taking classes for my doctorate at UVA, I had no intention of leaving the classroom. I have always loved/adored teaching children. It's exhausting, but it also re-energizes me and quite frankly, I feel like it's what I'm meant to do. I love it. I think that 6-year old children are the funniest, most lovable little people in the world. They are so open to learning, reading, playing - it's refreshing.

While I have enjoyed my time at both Radford and University of Richmond, I always felt a little emptiness/sadness that I had left the classroom. When you teach graduate students, they are with you for such a brief time period (1-2 semesters). But, the little guys (for better or worse) are part of my world for a full school year (or more). You develop bonds with their families and siblings. I guess I miss (among other things) the "connectedness" that comes from a classroom of children.

So, in late August, I'll return to the world of first graders. I'm excited, nervous and incredibly happy.
And hoping we have as many snow days as last winter :)

The choices we make

A few weeks ago, I chose to sign up for the "Rumpus in Bumpass" sprint triathlon (I know - it's a great name). I did it knowing that I haven't done an open water swim since August of 2008 - that's a long time ago for me - Little Miss Open Water Freak Out. I also knew that Lake Anna might be a little chilly in April.

I figured...what the heck?...I need to get in the open water sooner or later.

I arrived at the race site (the same place where the Giant Acorn triathlon - another great name - is held) with sweet Rick by my side. I surveyed the swim situation. I knew logically that I should have no issues swimming 750 meters. And yet...those old fears started sneaking back into my head. I asked Rick nervously, "Do you think those buoys are placed in the wrong place? They seem kinda far to me." He reassured me that I would be fine. His quote, "You've done it before, you can do it again." Right.

I made sure to get in the water and swim around prior to the start. Wow - that's cold water! Luckily, I adapted to it quickly (the beauty of a wetsuit). Okay, a few deep breaths..and I started to calm down. The first swim wave made their way to the start (the young lads, that is). In 12 minutes I would be off with the purple caps. Yikes! But wait...what is this? Why are they delaying the race?

Oh no...I spy an ambulance making its way to the start. It seems that someone in the first wave was having lots of trouble, so they had to pull him out.

Gulp. I'm nervous now.

Once things settle down, the rest of the waves go off without incident. Before I know it, it's my turn to swim over to the first buoy (it's an in-water start). The horn blows...and I start to swim. Sort of.

I'm swimming along slowly...not totally into this experience. I suddenly stop. That first buoy looks so far away...I could still turn around and head back to shore. That seems like a great choice. The smartest choice I could ever make, actually. I start to picture Sunday morning breakfast...eggs, coffee, the Sunday paper. Seriously, what am I doing in this lake?

Cue my tougher conscience: Well...I'm doing a triathlon - a triathlon that I CHOSE to do. I think I may have even said to anyone listening (which by now was the wave behind me), "Get going. Stop being a baby."

And so, I start swimming forward. Granted, I'm sure my stroke is in complete disarray at this point. But, I make it to the first buoy. I can hear someone near me making small panicked, whimpering sounds - and yelling at anyone who swam near her. I must get away from this situation. So off I went in the search of next buoys.

Finally, I have calmed down and start to swim like a somewhat normal human being. But, I'm having lots of trouble sighting. Is that a buoy or...no, it's not. Hmmm...it finally dawns on me in the middle of the swim. Perhaps prescription goggles would help me see where I'm going. I wear them to drive, watch TV, teach, ride my bike and run. Why has it taken me so long to realize they might help with open water, too? Who knows.

Finally, after way too much time, I finish the swim. I take a moment to regroup in transition. This was not at all how I envisioned my swim would go. But, I just have to let my disappointment and anger with myself go. I choose to smile, shake it off, and head off to the mount line.

And who is there to cheer me on? Rick, of course. Thanks honey - I needed a little smile at that moment.

The rest of the race went fine and dandy. In fact, I loved that race - spazz swim and all. Can't wait to do another one. Crazy, huh?