I have a running joke with my two friends in tri training that the swim instructor is my new BFF because I’m at the pool M-F. He just doesn’t know this.
I find this to be a minor point.
I like imaginary relationships. They take the pressure off of ever finding time to do anything together. You can drive by their house, and just hang out in your car on the street. It doesn’t even matter if they’re there. (But if they are there, I recommend you hunch down a little.)
You can tell people they think you are wonderful without any basis whatsoever. Just make sure they don’t hear you.
Because THAT would be embarrassing.
(Dear Swim Instructor, This is strictly hypothetical. I’ve never done a drive by of your house. But I have a strong feeling I would love your curtains. Sincerely, the redheaded girl in swim class you nod your head to when you see)
Last Monday, I learned that I don’t actually know how to run correctly. I stop myself by landing on my heel instead of landing on the ball of my foot.
Here is an exercise for you. Stand up. March in place. (If you are holding your laptop, use both hands.) Do you feel where you’re landing on your feet? This is where you should land when you run.
I can do this fine when jogging. Then Sarah said run at 85%. I lengthened my stride. She said, “That is wrong. Move your legs faster instead.” I tried. I failed. I tried again. I failed again. There are 10 people in this class and the instructor was running next to me trying to help me. She is a wonderful instructor and when I finally got it, she cheered. And so did part of the class.
That was the part that brought me back to grade school when people try to cheer you on when you just don’t get it and everyone knows you’ll probably never get it but you need to be encourage for fear you will be scarred for the rest of your life.
I’m that kid in running class.
I’ve been talking a lot about training for a mini-triathlon. I’ve been nervous but I figured that if I trained, all would be well. And although I don’t actually know how to swim, I’m learning. I was feeling very proud of myself. Because I can ride a bike and run.
And then I bought a used road bike.
I haven’t had a road bike since the Sears 10 speed I got when I was 16. There were two brake handles and the gear shifters were levers. I rode it everywhere.
My bike was blue. Racer blue. This is from bikejournal.com
Then in college I got a mountain bike and didn’t look back. Until Saturday.
I bought the bike, brought it home, took it out of the car and tried to stand it up with it’s kick stand. Racing bikes don’t have kick stands. No problem. I put my feet on the peddles which were smaller than I remember and started to ride. Then I noticed there were no gear shifters where they should be. (FYI learn this BEFORE the hill.) The gear shifters are now the breaks which you will find out if you are nervous and unsteady and press the brake levers to the side and shift up instead of break.
I got home after figuring out my bike and sat down, discouraged. I thought I’d had bike riding down.
But I guess it’s good for your kids to reverse positions and have them on the sidelines cheering “You made it to the end of the block without falling Mom. You’re doing so good. You CAN ride a bike. Try to the end of the street this time.”
I feel I need to explain myself. I’m about to be a little undependable in blogging and not very good at responding to comments due to the fact I plan on scheduling posts.
I’ve done something rash while NOT under the influence of drugs or alcohol. It’s worse than that.
I’ve done something while suffering from delusions of grandeur.
I signed up for a triathlon training course. I’m not even planning on a triathlon. When I signed up, the lady looked at me and asked: “Milestone birthday?”
It starts in one month and I refuse to be an embarrassment to myself. Yesterday I did a cycling class (it wasn’t Spinning because Spinning is trademarked and this class isn’t and I would never go to an untrademarked class).
Then I came home, got the kids to school and ran 2 miles.
Then I sat down and got up at 3pm when I had to get the kids.
Today I hurt in the way you hurt when you get back on a bike in a serious way. I don’t want any more children anyway so I figure the lasting effects won’t be that big a problem.
I wonder if I would make less impulsive decisions if I drank.
Has winter made anyone else make unexplainable decisions?