I won Lotto!!!

..well, I did win Lotto!!!  I won $13.05 which was just a smidgen less than the $3,424.99 or whatever it was to place the damn thing in the first place.  Back to the drawing board re: The Commute.


So, where were we before I had dreams of spending Australias chilly winters in Grand Cayman?  Ah yes, training.  This week has been really good and really different, which is always good to keep the interest factor there.  Saturday morning up early to run with Simon, who brought his new friend along.  So whilst we ran at an ok pace, we did stop a few times for walk breaks for her, so when we finished, I felt really good and fresh and went for another lap on my own.  The achilles pretty much behaved, which made my little heart SOAR!!!  So around 14km which is my longest run for quite some time.


Sunday, Monica and I decided to ride to Windsor and back from her place.  Never go anywhere with Monica unless you have done your own homework.  She will tell you it is only 20km and you end up running 35, panting, out of breath, underprepared and mentally scarred for life.  I know, I ended up with heatstroke one day but that is another story.  Anyway Westmead to Windsor was SUPPOSED to be 50km but ended up being 62km.  12km on the bike is not that far except when you are a novice, have never been in the saddle for that long, your forgot your knicks and are an old, unfit, fart.  Like me.  However, it was bloody brilliant.  Loved it.  Except maybe one hill.  Where I cursed a lot.  We got home smiling, rosy cheeked, and quite proud of ourselves for surviving.  Pair of fecking eejits. 


Anyway this girl from the PT class is training for a half ironman and put the call out for people to join her doing hill repeats on the bike, and running.  So I said I'd go along.  Well for all these years I thought I had been "training" until I go along with her.  The "run easy 30 mins" was fine, but on the hill repeats (and it was a bloody big steep hill) she just galloped up doing this high knee thing.  I shuffled up the hill with my marvellous hunched over form, trying everything possible to propel myself up that hill but feeling like I was going backwards meanwhile someone was holding a oxy welding torch to my lungs.  I might add that I feel I deserve additional points for going out on the years coldest night, when it snowed further up the mountain.  Just saying like.  So, anyway, I survived that, and plunged my protesting achilles into my new purchased bright red bucket of icy water - to save on water bills from filling the bath after every run. 


Anyway tonight was hill repeats on a bike.  Fark. After Sunday I was love love loving the bike.  I still do.  I went out today and purchased a helmet that (I think) looks slightly less retarded than my old one.  Although I do not think there is a helmet in existence that is not absolutely ridiculous.  But I do treasure my head, and it's contents and this one FITS well, for the first time in living history.  And do you know what?  I have an alarmingly big head!!!  My helmet is size XL.  Ner ner ner ner ner.  I have something big (beside my rather impressive chest, even if I do say so myself).  But me, five foot 2 inches of me has an EXTRA LARGE head.  (Quietly wonders to self if it was childrens helmet???)  - maybe I have an extra small head.  I dunno.  Anyway the point is, it is white (to match bike) feels snug and comfy (and not like it would fly off in case of me going over handlebars) and looks slightly less dicky than the previous one which came from the sports section of Target.  Enough said.  


So - hill repeats on a bike.  Well I was reading about TABATA training, basically you flog yourself for a while, then you have a wee rest, and then you flog yourself again.  Well this is what we did tonight.  Except the "have a wee rest" bit involved cycling down a very steep hill, keeping the brakes on, yet HAVING to move the legs because they were so sore from the climb up.  At one stage I was pedalling backwards just to get them moving and stop ACHING.  I think I said to Sarah afterward that it was the hardest, yet shortest (40 mins) workout I had done in a long time.  Strangely satisfying afterwards but damn hard work at the time.  Panting like a person in labour.  Cursing mentally because I didnt have the energy to actually say it out loud.  But being absolutely determined to keep pedalling and pushing and reminding myself it is just up and down, up and down.  Bloody hell.  How do people do this competitively?  Seriously, my thighs feel like they have grown to about three times the size and are bulging like a Romanian Weightlifters.  Of course, they are not, but man, they are twitching right now.  And foolishly I have tomorrow off and have organised biking followed by "Teaching Very Fit Friend to Tread Water".  How the hell I will do that, I have no idea.  So Parramatta Pool after Parramatta Park - heck with all this new found leg strength I might have a run in the morning - a mini triathlon day!!!  


Here's to thighs!!!

I did Lotto, so if you don't see me for a while.....

Last night I did something I am usually dead against, because I am not a fan of gambling in any form.  Well, I do like that song, The Gambler, but that is about it.  Don't particularly like horses being raced, whipped etc, don't like Melbourne Cup Day (ever since Derek set fire to his kitchen on MC day) and really really really DETEST those poker machines.  But, cold, tired, weary and frankly, very fecking over it ("it" being commuting in dismal weather) I marched into Morries Newsagency and demanded he tell me how to play Lotto with "one of those one's where I don't have to think up the numbers".  Morrie kindly said he could do that for me, so I asked him what I owed him.  We sorted it out from there.  So I am now the proud (?) owner of a "Powerpick 36" the ticket informs me.  So he said he would see me Friday morning.  I told a friend in work, and told him my motivation (fatigue from the commute) and he suggested that I would buy a penthouse in North Sydney.  Feck, you know, if I DID happen to win Lotto, I bet I would still want to work.  I get a bit of a kick out of working, especially this consulting / contracting business, because as soon as you are about to get bored you are out on your arse looking for something else.  Anyway.  Long winded way of saying, loving the job but fecking hating the travel.  Hating the travel because it eats in to my time to train, my ability to see daylight and a sleep in every now and then.  But the guys I work with are totally GORGEOUS, and the work is varied, interesting and very very busy.  I am just afraid though that I am going to wake up one morning and I will be 60 before I know it, because time is just FLYING past in that place.  And there is important stuff I need to do with my life and I know the time is really soon, and I thought about it a lot on my run tonight, and it is scaring me. 

However, good news is.......two days in a row I have managed to train.  Yesterday I did the run across the bridge and over to the parky place, what's it called?  Botantic Gardens.  No.  That's Belfast.  Something Botanicy.  And that was about 7km.  Iced wholeheartedly in ice bath again on arriving home, which WAS about six hours later, but better than nothing.  Tonight did my superman impersonation at the shopping centre at Emu Plains (went into the toilets in a suit, came out in running gear) and ran around the river and back before doing the Sparta PT session, which was, incidently, really good, and went really quickly.  Always a good sign when you are finished before you know it.  So I guess on balance, everything is going not too bad, the whole "eating vegetables till you can't eat any more" thing is working really well for me, and have lost and kept off (most importantly) over 2kgs just from using veggies as grazing food.  And my skin is loving it.  So if I could get my ankle to behave, it might complete one part of the puzzle in the piecing together of my life......

Running, riding, next I'll be freaking swimming....

Got up at 5am this morning to meet Simon for an early run - he was under strict instructions that it would be slow because my achilles is STILL faffing about being sore.  Was quite nervous, as putting the foot on the floor getting out of bed this morning was somewhat tender - but when I started running, it didn't get any worse.  Still the run was slow and painful and not like the last few weeks where I have felt stronger and faster.  Ah well.  I am never going to win anything anyway, but it would be nice to be able to challenge myself a wee bit. 

Stopped off on the way home to buy a big bag of ice and iced the living daylights out of ankle and calf which really really really helped.  Filled the bath, immersed it, yelled, cursed, shouted at the pain, managed ten seconds max until I worked out it was the toes that were really unhappy, and fashioned a "calf in, achilles in, but no toes in" stance, which worked well.  Achilles felt good all day.

Spent the afternoon on a 42km ride in the rain with Monica.  At one point it was dismally cold, there was an icy wind and a big hill and a lot of sore thigh action but I thought how nice and rounded my bottom might be if I could do this a little more often, and then I thought, stuff my bottom, I don't care, ARE WE CLOSE TO HOME YET?????  Because it very quickly went from exhilarating to freaking freezing and quite unpleasant.  Once the wind died down it was ok again and we even decided to do one more lap for Jesus around Parramatta Park before calling it a day.  This has been my first real foray into city bike riding, although almost all the riding we did was on a cycle path.  About five minutes from Monicas place, the door of a parked car opens about five metres from my face, with me swerving only just in time to avoid the certain discomfort of flying over the handlebars and over the car door.  Note to self.  Note to self nothing.  Not sure how to avoid this one.  Anyway, home, showered, warm, and feeling tired but happy and gearing up for another ankle plunge into the Bath of Doom.

Harbour Bridge Run

Last night I went to bed at 8pm and set the alarm for five o'freaking clock - the plan being an early and invigorating run before work and in my mind I would be rocking up to work with pink cheeks and that smug feeling of having been up, done my workout before the rest of the world had even got in the shower.....

My sub conscious had other plans, however, and I woke at 11.30pm from a freaky dream about crustaceans hatching out of my bottom.  Needless to say I lay awake mulled over this subliminal message my brain was sending me for hours and was unable to get up at the aforementioned hour to run.  This made me a little grumpy.

However, no-one ever got anywhere by being grumpy, so I packed my running gear and despite having normal massive handbag full of carrots, pepsi max and a punnet of tomatoes, I also had my work notebook, some files, and then my running gear, hair putting up gear, makeup touch up gear, iPod gear and emergency fake hair gear, all packed and on the train with me, as well as my oatmeal and protein powder shake in another bag just in case it leaked.  But I did all this because I was DETERMINED to run in the freaking daylight at least once this week.

I have lived in this beautiful country for almost twenty years.  Hang on, it is 21 years (how did I miss that???) and I have NEVER worked in the City before.  So I still get goosebumps going over the harbour bridge and seeing the Opera House and being part of the ebb and flow of commuters at city train stations.  I do, I love it.  But today, just running over the bridge on a normal Wednesday in June was a totally massive thrill for little old me.  I felt part of something.  If that makes any sense.

Plus the added benefit of getting out in the (somewhat freaking frosty) fresh air, seeing sunlight on a workday, and generally getting away from my desk was BLOODY FANTASTIC.  It was icy in the city today with a strong icy wind to boot.  But it was just marvellous to be out there getting hot and sweaty and my hair in my eyes with the harbour beneath me, the traffic beside me and fellow runners, walkers, tourists (and a couple of very bored security guys) around me.

My little mind has been feeling very unhappy lately about the amount of time I waste on trains, and the dark nasty conditions either in the morning or at night, so now I know I have NO FECKING EXCUSES!!!  My commitment to MYSELF is 2 lunchtime runs per week.

I will still do my Thurs night run prior to the PT session and my normal carry on at the weekends. (Note - "normal carry on" may vary from weekend to weekend...).

Once more I feel much more positive about the future.  Plus I have managed to make my new eating regime a habit, having been at it for about four weeks now.  Feeling good, positive and despite my FARKING achilles being really really sore post run, I am still smiling (if not smelling slightly of deep heat and looking slightly ridiculous in black silk nightie, one compression sock and a snake bandage over the top).  

Positive Steps.

So - last week I did what I am very good at.  Stuffing things up.  Despite still niggling hip and very sore achilles, I did 11km with Simon at a much faster pace than I should have.  Then I ran another 7km downhill (despite being told by nice physio not to run downhill until hip stabilises) to get my car post puncture.  Then Sunday I ran 17km in the national park.  By Monday I was in a world of hip and achilles pain and hated running, the world, and all who reside in it.  My grumpy demeanour continued right up until the sun came out on Friday morning (coincidence??) and I didn't do a pick of exercise all week, although I balanced that with careful eating so that I wouldn't finish the week REALLY pissed off to have undone all my good work.

I couldn't face getting up at 5am again on Saturday to run with Simon and anyway, I wasn't sure how my achilles would go, so ran this morning instead.

It is amazing what a good run can do for your head.

Set off feeling sore and frankly, a bit negative.  But as I warmed up, and the blood started pumping I started to feel absolutely marvellous, and the longer I ran, the less sore the achilles became.  Or it might have been the nurofen and codeine tablet taking effect.  Not sure, but it felt really good.

Back to the house with a whole new positive perspective and plans for the week ahead that include bringing running gear to work, heck, I even looked at upcoming races, but we all know that is STUPID!  Maybe if I can just muddle along with a number of easy runs, say five a week, and do this for three weeks then re-assess.

There is a race I would dearly like to do but I am over making donations to races now!  I suppose now is a good time to start planning anyway. 

In an effort to be sensible and cross train, this afternoon Monica and I are taking out our trusty bikes for a turn around the Regatta Centre and the River.  Garmin has died though, so won't have any idea on time, distance etc, but frankly, that's probably not a bad thing, I think it will be ugly having last been on the bike what seems like an ice age ago.....!


Edit to say:  The bike ride with Monica was totally magic and just what I needed.  32km - this season is just gorgeous and the fallen leaves and beautiful autumn colours and crispy temps just added to the experience.  We rode around the river from the Regatta Centre and headed up to Regentville and the farms out that way.  Was beautiful and just what I needed for my sore hips and calves.  Monica loved it too, having lost her mojo after Six Foot and next week another ride is planned.  Look out MAMILs!!!!