I Keep On Fallin', Fallin', Fallin....

You'd think that I was quoting a song with a title like that.  But no, I just keep falling, literally.

Clumsiness is just a way of life for some.

When I was a child, I often stubbed my toe on the bookcase.  Now, this bookcase didn't move.  It was in the same spot for over three years.  Yet, every morning, I misjudged the distance and hurt my favorite toe (admit it, you have a favorite too).  I'd howl in pain, wake up my family, kick the bookcase and hurt my other favorite toe (admit it, you have two favorites too).

As I got older, my family just adapted to my awkwardness.  Sharp objects were kept away, paid more attention to doorways, curbs were painted in red, and bookcases finally got moved.  (After three years.  Seriously, it took them three years to move the damn thing). And falling became a rarity.

I think I became more agile too.  When you catch your toe on a sidewalk, or not quite hit a step, your body does that funky-redistribute-weight-quickly-shift-foot-to-catch-self- dance and you somehow manage to stay upright.  It's kinda magical when you think about all the effort that goes into that one moment.  And I was mastering it.

Until last week.

I was running (somehow all my physically tragic things happen while running) and my shoe caught on the sidewalk.  At least I like to think it did.  There is no actual proof that the crack caused me to stumble but I really don't want to believe that I fell to my near death over nothing. It would be like gaining weight from eating a salad or spending money on bad chocolate.  Pointless and just hurtful.  So, the crack had to be there.  It had to be, dammit!

 And it's funny how everything slows down in that moment as you are falling to your certain death.  You notice the white minivan going by and wonder if he'll help, you hear the bird chirping in the tree, the feel of the air as the wind gets knocked of you and the odd sensation of bouncing on a sidewalk.

Yup.  You read that right.  I bounced.  My kneecaps hit the pavement and I bounced.  I didn't even know the human body could do that on pavement.  I began to wonder if all parts of the body bounced or only kneecaps.  If I landed right, would my elbows bounce? My head?  Do people who fall from greater heights bounce more?  Are fatty areas more bouncable? (a new word. It's catching on, trust me)  And if so, should I try to do a twist to land on my backside when going down?

Of course, the post bounce is always bad.  There's no way that the human body can bounce and get a 10 on final landing.  A solid 7 perhaps, but not a 10.  (Unless you're a gymnast and then the rules of physics don't apply anymore.  Part of the same sorcery that keeps those women petite and in the air for so long. They do an initiation where they blood swear off gravity...It's true, I've read about it)

After inspecting the road rash on the palms of my hands and knees, I decided it was best to walk the rest of the way home.  And being my life, I was at the furthest part away from my house when I fell, so I had the entire walk back to my house.

It should be noted that I was in a good running groove when I went down.  It was slightly down hill, I had a tailwind (that's really a thing for runners....weird, huh?) and I was starting to get a runner's high.  And then I crashed which gave me an extra jot of adrenaline.  Thus, walking home, I was shaking, shaking and wanting to run so badly.

Which probably means I hit my head.

But I walked, and walked, and walked until I was about 1/4 mile from my house.  And all the adrenaline and runner's high endorphines wore off and suddenly, I hurt.  I was stiff, I was sore and I had road rash and I walked a mile and a half and I was angry and irritated and I realized as I walked up my stairs that I could have called an Uber.

Yup, I'm pretty sure I hit my head.

Kicking A$$ Part I

It has been a very long time since my last post. 

If you would recall, the purpose of this blog is to detail my efforts to get to a faster mile and more of them.  

Well, I epically failed on that mission.  After a slew of injuries, I decided to do what all the magazines, friends and doctors have been telling me to do in the first place and work on strengthening muscles for a while.

I realized that I should probably join a class.  I don't do well on my own, often procrastinating or just not working as hard as I should.  (Admit it:  if it's a choice between Netflix and pizza or working out, you'd take the Netflix too)

OH! But so many choices for classes in my area!  I found 6 different types of yoga alone! 

Here is a run down of experiences:

Regular Yoga:  Eventually I got distracted...."shouldn't I be sweating or something? How does that guy bend that way? Are guys supposed to be able to bend like that? Wait, am I? Maybe a big, baggy t-shirt was a bad idea (the last one as I was doing downward facing dog)

Hot Yoga: OMG.  Why would anyone work out in Satan's studio? I'm almost 100% positive that this is Hell...holding poses for eternity in really hot & humid temperatures.  If I really wanted to do this, I could save money and pose in a park in DC in the middle of summer.

CORE Yoga:  A whole hour...dedicated just to abs...a whole hour....dedicated....I decided I liked my layer of cupcake around my middle more than this class. 

Boot Camp: Why yes, I am the most out of shape person here.  What do you mean you are waiting for me to do 100 push ups as a team thing?  Keep on waiting, buddy!

Zumba:  Yea, I can to this, I can dance, shake my booty, shake my booty...oh, wait, right foot? Now? oh, wrong way, oops, sorry about that, I didn't mean, sorry, oh, that way..right...oops... I don't know if my hips can do that.  That looks like it hurts. Oh wait, it does....

Step Class:  I didn't even try this.  I BROKE MY FOOT WALKING OFF A STEP.  NO WAY. NOT DOING IT.

Low Impact Cardio:  Are there usually this many 60 year olds in the class?

Pilates:  So, you want me on the contraption to do what exactly?

Stretch class:  Basically the same reaction as regular yoga but much more intensified.  If I thought yogi's were contortionists, then people in stretch class were like that creepy girl from The Ring.

Kickboxing:  kick-kick-punch-punch-kick.  Take that ex-boyfriend-kick-punch. And that Evil Commute-punch-punch. Bad day at work?  Punch-kick-kick-punch-punch! What do you mean 50 squats?  What are burpees exactly? No, I didn't need to use my arms anymore today.

At this point, you may be asking if I joined any of them.  It turns out that beating the crap out of something felt really good. Cathartic, even.  So I negotiated a killer deal for a year membership to the kickboxing gym that works like circuit training.  Every three minutes you do a particular exercise and then move on to the next round.  So if you hate it, it's only three minutes of your life.  The trainers walk around and make sure you are doing it right and give you pointers on things to work on at home if need be.  And since it's not a scheduled class, you can show up any time they are open.   

And no, I'm not writing this because they paid me.  More that you get an idea of how it works because tomorrow's post will be all about my first work out...

My First Time

"Do you know what you want?" he asked, bending down to take off my shoes.

"No, I've never done this before" I answered, shying away from his touch.  A flutter of emotions raced through me: anticipation, excitement, nervousness....

He winked at me, "Everyone has a first time.  How far do you want to go?"

"I don't know" I whispered.  I had not even said it out loud, let alone to another person. It was such a fantasy and I didn't know this man.  What would he think?

"Maybe 13 miles?"

His smile broadened, "Your first half marathon?"

It was my first time in a 'real' running store, getting 'real' running shoes.  I had reached the point in training where if I was going to be serious about running, I would need to be sized.

After taking my shoe size, he disappeared into the back room only to return with boxes.  He pulled them out one by one.  Each one was its own majestic beauty, designed with technology and style to lighten my feet and make me a faster runner.

I slid my feet into the first pair of beauties, a purple number from Asics and stood up.  The clerk tucked and pushed, ensuring a good fit.

"Okay, let's go see you run" he said, standing up.

"What?"

"Go outside, run down the block and I'll watch how your ankles go"

We went outside and I ran down the block while he crouched down to watch my ankles and knees.  I don't think I had ever felt so self conscious before.  Everything cross my mind, from having the perfect running form to how much my thighs jiggled with each step.

"How do they feel?" he asked. There was no signs of judgment in his voice as I approached slightly out of breath.

"They feel okay" I puffed.

"I don't like how they push your right ankle out.  Let's try other shoes" He opened the store door for me.

Over and over again we did this until we were both was satisfied.

"You should buy these" he said.

"Uh, how much do I owe you?"

"You can't put a price on this kind of experience" he grinned moving to the register.  "But it's good enough to keep you coming back".

Of course, I did.  Over and over again I pulled out my credit card for my newest shoe addiction.

Five years and ten pairs of shoes later, I still remember it like yesterday.  It was special.  I would eventually go to other shoe stores, have other clerks help me, even experiment with other shoe brands.  But my mind often returns to that beautiful store, those magnificent shoes and my first time.

Let the Music Play...

It's amazing how music can make all the difference while working out.  It motivates to work faster, harder and with more oomph!

But I have noticed that the right music can make all the difference.

• Song for a happy, early morning work out: 
• Walking on Sunshine
• For the most obvious reason, it's happy bouncy song

• Song for a slow, why am i doing this? kind of morning work out: 
• Wake Me Up Inside - Evanescence
• and if you don't know the lyrics
• (Wake me up)
• Wake me up inside
• (I can't wake up)
• Call my name and save me from the dark

• For when you are in the cardio area that overlooks the weight room
• I'll Be Watching You - Sting

• From when you are in the weight room
• I Always Feel Like Somebody Watching Me - Rockwell
• or conversely
• 16 Tons
• and the lyrics for those unfamiliar
• 16 tons, whatdoya get? 
• Another day older and deeper in debt
• Jumping Jacks 
• JumpJump - KrissKross
• DaddyMac will make you jump, jump!

• For those longer runs
• Going the distance - Cake
• He's going the distance!
• He's going for speed!

• Stretching after a run
• I Wish - Skee-Lo
• I wish i was a little bit taller
• I wish i was a baller
• Yoga
• Natural Woman - Aretha Franklin
• Trust me, it gets you all flexible

Feel free to add to this list!

Running makes me dumb.

And I am not talking about beforehand when I decide to go for a run.  Really, who casually decides that? Usually there are motivating factors to running such as a dress to fit into or T-Rex to escape.  Going for a run "for the hell of it" is kinda stupid.  Our ancestors worked very hard so that we can enjoy freedom from roaming carnivores. Seems idiotic to work backwards from that.

Nor am I referring to the stupidity that makes a person sign up for a marathon or a 5k that is only three days away.  Those usually involve persuasive friends or a  coupon for a "fun" sounding race (Zombie Run anyone? How about a color run where strangers pelt you with Kool-Aid packets?)

No, this is the specific dumbness that occurs when I am in the middle of running or just after when my oxygen/blood deprived brain cannot function at its optimal levels.

I call it Jock Syndrome.

Perhaps some examples can illustrate the point

I went on a run at lunch one day.  Needed to stretch the muscles and vent some frustrations.  After a good four-miler, I showered then went back to work.  And sat at my desk looking at a math problem for a good 10 minutes.  A simple math problem.  The same type that I had been doing all morning.  Worse, the idea of backtracking the problems I had already solved to figure out how to do the current one never even occurred to me.

A week later, I did another lunchtime run and found myself in my boss's office unable to form sentences in the right order. For half an hour, I sounded like Yoda if he ever decided to give up the force and go into advertising.

example:
"Boss, flowchart problem there is" I stumbled.
"what's wrong with the flowchart?" she asked
"Incorrectly linking formulas incorrectly"
"Why don't you go put your head down on your desk for a bit and we'll talk later?"

But the Jock Syndrome also happens to me while I'm in the middle of an activity.  This is probably my favorite and most telling example:

One night I was running my usual route.  It was warm and I was a sweaty hot mess, huffing-puffing my way down the street.  As I approached some trees, I thought "Oh good! Shade! that will cool me off!"  At night.  I was excited about shade at night.

So far, the effects have been temporary, usually back to my sharp, witty self within an hour or so.  But if you see me one day struggling with math or simple sentence construction, be kind.

Jock Syndrome might be permanent!

Motivation, thou fickle tart

I am not the most motivated athlete out there.  I'm not even the most motivated athlete in the room and I live alone.

The intentions are good.  I get home from work and think, I should go work out. It will be good for me. I walk into my room and start pulling out some running gear. I lay the outfit on the bed and turn to get some shoes.  At this point, the eternal arguments begin.  The proverbial angel/devil on the shoulder appear to duke it out

Perhaps it's important to describe these two to give you a better idea of where this argument is going to lead.  The workout "angel" is dressed in my stretchy yoga pants and sports shirt wet from sweat.  Her hair is plastered to her head, with drops rolling down the sides of her blotchy cheeks.  She walks as if she's stiff and speaks only in huffs and puffs, clearly out of breath.

The comfy "devil" on the other hand, is lounging on my favorite part of the couch, kitten in lap with a good book in her hand.  She is wearing red silk pajamas, smiling and content, reaching over to pick up the hot chocolate that was sitting on the nightstand.  Her skin is bright and clear and she has fabulous hair which she gently tosses side to side, as though she had just come from a photo shoot.

Devil: You don't need to work out. You've worked hard today and deserve a break.

Angel: *huff, huff* Yea, but you sat around at work today, you didn't *whew* actually move.  Go for a run, you'll feel energized.*breath, breath*

Devil: You don't want to get so worked up before bed, and it's dark out.

Angel: It's only 6:30, you'll be fine *Puff, Puff*

Devil: Besides, it looks very cold.  Come, why don't you sit by the fire with me and read some Jane Austen?

(at this point, a roaring fire appears in a fireplace next to the nightstand where a steaming cup of hot chocolate rests for me.  By the way, I don't have a fireplace.  Devil just had mad tempting skillz)

Alena: that does look inviting

Angel: Yea, it kinda does *whew* but you need to burn calories

Devil: Why don't you run tomorrow morning instead? (smiling) you'll still burn the calories you need, and get to rest tonight like you want to

Alena: okay sounds good! where's my hot chocolate??

Next morning, around 6:15 am,  the alarm goes off.

Workout Angel looks essentially the same, still wheezing, but now the Devil is in my cotton jammies, cuddled up in the blanket.  She still looks fabulous  (I don't think I look that great when I'm sleeping, but if you are gonna tempt someone, you gotta make it look good)

Angel: Okay *huff,huff* time to get up!

Devil: Maybe 15 more minutes

Alena: okay. 15 more minutes (it's not hard to tempt me to sleep longer. let's be honest)

This process continues for another thirty minutes until I roll out of bed and realize that I slept too long and won't be able to get a run in before work

Devil: it's okay, we can run after work

and the process starts all over again.......

How to Exercise and NOT Lose Weight

1) Don't start exercising until you have cute gym clothes. If you don't have right apparel, wait until you go shopping

2) When on a treadmill, make sure you can still properly read your book

3) Only lift weights when people are looking at you

4) Every workout deserves a cupcake after. And a steak.  And a smoothie.

5) Going to the gym and changing counts as the workout. Go home.  

6) Learn to balance your latte as you use the stairmaster

7) That water bottle? Fill it up with something fun!

8) Do not sweat.  It will ruin your make-up

9) Hang out in the back of the class and only move when the instructor gives you the stink eye

10) 20 minutes waiting for a machine + 10 minutes of cardio = 30 minute workout!