Present Moment Living for the Type A Personality

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Eckhart Tolle teaches us that lack of acceptance is at the root of suffering. I’ve been thinking of this quite a bit recently as I find myself wanting things to be different than how they actually are and then recognizing that if I would just accept the situation as it is, my pain and suffering would go away and I would feel more at peace. As someone who has issues with letting things go though, this is much easier said than done.

For example, I want to run the 18.6 mile Payette Lake Run this weekend, but I can’t because I just had an appendectomy two weeks ago. My wanting to run the race and the fact that I am wishing the situation were different is causing me pain and suffering. If I simply accept the situation, I will feel content and at peace. Wow, it sounds so simple when I write it out! Why is it so hard to implement?

Here are some more: My child is being irritating, I want x, y, or z to be different about my body, or I wish that my husband would appreciate me more. All of these things bring about some sort of pain or suffering in my life because they stem from the fact that I am not accepting things just as they are. So how can I do better?

Well, I think Eckhart Tolle would say that I should focus on living in the present moment because the present moment is really all that we have. (But what if the present moment really sucks? Let’s be honest, sometimes it does. But for the purposes of this post I am just talking about when we make it harder on ourselves than necessary. Which for me is a lot.)  Sometimes I focus on my breath and try to really notice what is around me. One way I can do this is by taking inventory of various things I can hear, see and feel right at that moment. But really living and staying in the present moment is difficult. My mind often wanders to worries about the past or future. And that’s okay. If I can live some in the present moment each day I am making progress.  After all I am a Type A control freak (see paragraph 1 re issues with letting go).

And speaking of being a Type A control freak, I went for my first post-appendectomy run today. An easy 3 mile run/walk on one of my favorite trails with my dog. It was a beautiful run in fall-like weather. My legs wanted to go, go, go! They were saying, “Hey, have we been tapering? Let’s race!” My core on the other hand was saying, “What the heck are you doing?! Get back on the couch and let’s watch some more football!” It felt like a weak, achy, unparticipating blob. But at least it’s a start. And now the rebuilding process begins. Hopefully I will emerge even stronger, both physically and mentally.

Waiting My Turn (AKA That time it was going to be my turn until it wasn’t)

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“So I’m sitting here and waiting my turn, oh well, maybe next time I will learn.”

-The Connells

It seems that the universe is trying to teach me that I am not in control. A lesson that somehow in almost 40 years I have not managed to learn. You see, I have not run a marathon since 2006, and the last marathon I completed was a bit of a disaster seeing as how I did it on an IT band injury and hobbled through most of it (not recommended). So I have been looking for a redemptive marathon ever since then. But three pregnancies and several injuries have left me nine years later and still no marathon medal. However, this fall was going to be my turn.

I registered for and was accepted in to the St. George marathon, which is on October 3, 2015. I was nursing a hip injury, but training was going relatively well and I was getting enough (read: the bare minimum) mileage in to eek out a marathon. A week and a half ago I ran sixteen and a half miles feeling strong and like I could have kept going. I was thrilled to be within ten miles of the marathon distance and ready to sign up for an 18.6 mile race around a local lake that I had wanted to run for several years.

But the following Tuesday, I noticed a pain in my upper abdomen. I was still able to go for a seven mile run, but I didn’t feel like eating most of the day. By evening, I was doubled over in pain and I didn’t sleep all night. There was some pain in the lower right quadrant, but not too much. I went to the doctor on Wednesday, and it turned out to be my appendix. I had an emergency appendectomy Wednesday evening and am now prohibited from running from anywhere from 2-4 weeks, depending upon who I ask. I cancelled my plans for St. George and am looking at other marathons later this winter.

The rational part of me tells myself that this happened for a reason. Maybe my body was not going to be strong enough to run a marathon in October due to my nagging hip issue. Perhaps the extra rest will give my hip time to heal 100% and I will come back even stronger. But the emotional part of me still feels grief and anger. I was getting so close! And my hip was feeling better! It was supposed to be my turn this fall!

I have to keep reminding myself that I am not in control. That things happen for a reason, even if I do not understand it at the time. That one day (and probably one day very soon) I will look back and laugh about that time my marathon training got derailed by an appendectomy. And one day soon I’ll be crossing that finish line. Right now my job is to let my body heal. That’s an important job and I need to do it right and do it thoroughly. And hopefully one day soon I will finally learn that I am not in control and the universe can stop sending me all of these helpful reminders.

Letting Go of the Numbers

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My fixation with numbers has been leading me to some dark places recently. It started when last week I stepped on the scale and saw the number was higher than I tend to like it. At first I tried to blow it off as water weight or inflammation, but when I weighed myself again a couple of days later and my weight was still on the higher end of my weight range I continued to berate myself mentally with horrible self-deprecating thoughts.

My downward spiral continued when I went for my long-run last weekend. I set out to run 12 miles, which I did not think would be too difficult, considering I am training for a marathon. I started off okay, but as I climbed up into the hills I started to get tired and hot, my right hip and left knee started to ache, and I started taking some walk breaks. Half way through my run I ran out of water. As I climbed further up into the trail, it became overgrown and I started to worry about snakes. Some other runners warned me about poison ivy, so I found myself stopping frequently to examine the plants. Although I tried to look for poison ivy, the trail was so overgrown in places I couldn’t even tell what was growing in there. Eventually I gave up and turned around. Mentally I was alternating between appreciating the beauty around me and beating myself up. I felt old and slow and like my body was falling apart. I was frustrated that I wasn’t running faster and that things hurt. I kept looking at my watch and feeling like a failure. At the 10 mile mark, I burst into tears. It was taking me just as long to cover 12 miles as it had taken my coach (who is an elite runner) to run her marathon a few weeks earlier! I told myself that I had no business calling myself a runner or being on a running team and that I should give up immediately. With a combination of sweat and tears streaming down my face, I continued to run, but I also continued to say these horrible things to myself. Things I would never in a million years say to a friend or a running partner.

After that run I came home, refueled, took an ice bath, and tried to chalk the whole thing up to just a bad running day. But I’ve been in a little bit of a funk ever since. And I’ve been thinking quite a bit about my unnecessary focus on numbers: both the number on the scale and the number on the stop watch. What do they really mean? The number on the scale can be a measure of health (and I put can in italics because there are lots of other ways to measure health), but it does not define me. My body is so much more than that. And my worth and my value as a person has nothing at all to do with that number. So why would I let it impact my mood at all? Same with the number on the stop watch. Sure it is nice to run fast. It is gratifying to see just how much I can push my body sometimes. I love those endorphins, and I have race goals and love setting PRs just as much as the next guy. But why do I beat myself up if I don’t hit a time goal in a workout? Or if a race doesn’t go my way? This doesn’t define me. The stopwatch can’t tell me who I am. Isn’t it more important just to be out there and running, appreciating nature and the fact that my body can in fact move one foot in front of the other? Why rationally I understand this and in my heart I want to feel it, somewhere there is an emotional disconnect that too often forces me back to the numbers. Perhaps it is that I do not have sufficient self confidence coming from within, so I look to the external, definitive factors (ie, the number) for valuation.

But by letting the numbers define me I am robbing myself of the joy of the journey. For it is not really the number or the moment of the PR that I am striving for. I want to enjoy the process of getting there too. Scott Jurek stated it perfectly when he said, “The longer and farther I ran, the more I realized that what I was often chasing was a state of mind — a place where worries that seemed monumental melted away, where the beauty and timelessness of the universe, of the present moment, came into sharp focus.” This is essentially what I am chasing. The ability to run and to be in the present moment. Without worry or concern about numbers or about being something other than what I am. It is my hope that running can help me let go and find that peaceful and present state of mind.

CranioSacral Therapy and the Unquiet Mind

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In last weeks’ episode of “Let’s Fix My Hip” I tried CranioSacral Therapy for the very first time. What is CranioSacral Therapy, you may wonder as I did too before I went in for my session? Google taught me that “CranioSacral Therapy is a gentle, hands-on method of evaluating and enhancing the functioning of a physiological body system called the craniosacral system – comprised of the membranes and cerebrospinal fluid that surround and protect the brain and spinal cord. Using a soft touch generally no greater than 5 grams, or about the weight of a nickel, practitioners release restrictions in the craniosacral system to improve the functioning of the central nervous system.”

A couple of my friends had suggested that I try CranioSacral Therapy (or CST) to see if it might help my hip pain. As a traditional consumer sports type massages, I was pretty unsure of this whole thing. Soft touch no greater than 5 grams? No thanks, I like it hard and deep. (WAIT, WHAT?!) Massage, deep tissue massage. So I wondered what 5 grams of pressure could possibly do for my chronic hip pain. A quick Google search will result in claims that CranioSacral Therapy can help with things like migraines, ADHD, autism spectrum disorder, and orthopedic issues. There are also reports that it is a total scam. Although skeptical myself, I was willing to give it a try.

My therapist was very friendly and the session started off similar to a regular massage, except that I remained fully clothed. I found myself trying to relax in order to fully reap the benefits of the session, but instead of having thoughts float by me like wispy clouds over a summer meadow, they came hurling at me full force like a freight train.

Should I be feeling anything? My nose itches. I hope I don’t sneeze. I hope my stomach doesn’t start growling. Maybe I should have had more breakfast. Will it be time for lunch when I’m done? Why am I always thinking about food? Maybe I should have had less coffee. I should go get more coffee after this. I’ll relax more if I go to my happy place. (Envisions self on beach in Kauai listening to ocean waves and breathing fresh salty air but uh-oh, here comes the freight train again.) Has it been an hour yet? How does light pressure around my chin affect my hip? Are Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner getting a divorce? It’s really hard for me to quiet my mind. I wonder if this is why I’m not better at yoga. I should meditate more.

I think you get my point. After an hour I felt relaxed, but I am not sure my hip felt any different. When I stood up off the table it felt pretty good so that’s positive. Soon after leaving, however, the regular soreness returned. And I found myself wishing that perhaps I had spent my time and money on a deep tissue massage instead. Three days later I saw my regular massage therapist for some deep tissue work, and although she called her deep tissue massage that she had just given me “mean”, I felt so relaxed during it that I almost fell asleep. In other words, no freight trains. Maybe I need some discomfort during my massage to keep me focused on my breathing, or maybe I should give CST a try again. Maybe I need to do more yoga and meditation to quiet my mind. Regardless, I am pretty sure my racing mind is not going anywhere anytime soon.

If My Life Were A Bike Ride

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This past weekend my husband and I went on a 40 mile mountain bike ride to celebrate his 40th birthday. Somewhere along the way we realized that the ride was a metaphor for our lives so far. The first few miles were a breeze, in fact I can barely remember them. I was full of energy, although a bit wobbly on my bike. Everything was fresh and brand new. I spent a lot of time enjoying the view and some time getting off of my bike to walk the more treacherous parts of the trail. (See Uncoordinated Runner Attempts Mountain Biking.) In fact, in an attempt to increase my bonding with my mountain bike and decrease my fear and anxiety associated with mountain biking, at some point in the first ten miles or so, I bestowed a name upon my lovely mountain bike. Her name is Rita. I am not sure why, it just came to me. She seems feminine and lovely and she is also white and green like the colors of salt and lime that that go with a margaRITA, so maybe that’s why. I don’t know. What I DO know, however, is that Rita is timid on single track trails and steep downhills. She’s a bit claustrophobic, risk averse, and has a fear of heights. But we are getting along well so far.

Crossing Trestles Like a Champ

Rita, Crossing Trestles Like a Champ

Miles 10 through 20 were also a breeze. Downhill through the mountains following the river with a beautiful view. Much like in my own teens, I did not realize how good I had it! At mile 20, we stopped to turn around. And that’s where the real fun began. The trail we were on had been downhill to our turnaround point, but the downhill was gentle and the trail was loose gravel so we were still having to pedal to go downhill and did not realize how much we had been going downhill. Oops!

When we turned around at mile 20, we quickly realized that we were going to have our work cut out for us. Much like a college graduate at age 22, we realized around mile 22 that we were going to ration out our water (much like budgeting money), and work smartly and efficiently to ensure that we would meet our goal. The 20s were hard but we still had energy to plow through them.

Trucking along!

Trucking along!

The 30s is when the real fun began! And in our real lives, our 30s is when we had our 3 children. So fittingly, miles 30-40 were grueling and exhausting. We took several breaks to laugh at ourselves (Whose idea what this?!) and encourage each other. We knew we would reach our goal, but knew it would take work. And much like parenting, we did it together and with a sense of humor (well, mostly). When we got back to the car (kind of like when we get to the couch after a day of parenting) we were exhausted, but felt accomplished. And very thirsty for beer. We also realized that this is just the beginning of the journey and look forward to seeing what the next 40 years (or miles!) will bring!

On Grandma, the Marathon, and Grandma’s Marathon

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My friend Gretchen is running Grandma’s Marathon this weekend (Run GG Run!) and my other friend Emily thought of the fantastic idea for several of us to put together the best advice that Grandma ever gave us to give to Gretchen in a send off package. This got me thinking about my Grandma Vivian (who I called “Nanny”) and the advice that she gave me throughout her life. Interestingly enough, the very last time I saw her was in the fall of 2006 during the weekend of the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, D.C., which also happens to be the last marathon I completed.

I have a box full of letters from Nanny and went searching through them for bits and pieces of advice from her for one that stood out as both meaningful and applicable to running as well as life in general.

LettersfromNanny

There are years worth of cards, letters, newspaper clippings and memories in the box. I had not read these letters in years and it was a joy to read through them today (Thank you, Emily!). In many ways, I felt like I was receiving these letters from my grandmother all over again. The one piece of advice that stood out to me repeatedly as I sorted through the stuff was this: Life is so much easier if you have a sense of humor. She had sent me an Ann Landers advice column with that advice (as well as many other jokes and reminders to have fun), and I remember her smiling, laughing and joking constantly. Here is the full text of the Ann Landers clipping that my grandmother had sent me many years ago:

Dear Ann Landers:

When I read the letter from “St. Pete” about the man who dressed up as Batman and ended up hitting his head on the ceiling fan, it reminded me of an embarrassing incident that happened years ago.

My husband and I were newlyweds, getting ready to attend a Halloween party given by friends. I came home from work and asked my hubby to answer the door for the trick-or-treaters while I took a bath. As I was running the water, I thought, “Wouldn’t it be fun to play a trick on him?” So I put on my flapper raccoon coat and a mask, and without a stitch on under the coat, I sneaked around the house and rang the doorbell. When my husband answered, I threw open my coat and shouted, “Trick or treat!” He was so stunned that he backed up, fell down the steps of the sunken living room, hit his head and knocked himself unconscious. I phoned for an ambulance and had to explain to the authorities what happened. My husband was taken to the hospital, where they said he had suffered a concussion. We never made it to the Halloween party, and, of course, I had to tell my friends why. They thought it was hilarious. My husband and I will celebrate our 40th anniversary soon. I still love Halloween but have refrained from pulling any more startling surprises. Life is so much easier if you have a sense of humor. –Toni in Long Island, N.Y.

Dear Toni: What a story! Laughter is indeed the elixir of life, and it can be a great protector. There are times when, if we couldn’t laugh, we’d cry.

If my grandmother were here today, and if she knew Gretchen, I think she would say “Don’t forget to laugh this weekend!” Indeed, laughter is great medicine. My grandmother laughed a lot, and she lived a long, happy life. She and my grandfather were married for over 60 years. Below is a photo of them celebrating their first anniversary on the beach, and celebrating again many years later (after 50+ years of marriage) at my cousin’s wedding:

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So cheers to laughter, to grandmas, to marathons, to Grandma’s Marathon, and last but not least, to Gretchen. May you run fast, run strong, laugh often, and have a big awesome celebration at the end! xoxo

Trying Differently

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I have beat myself up trying to figure out what is wrong with my hip, why it hurts when it does and what I might have done to cause the most current flare up. Maybe I should have taken more rest days after Robie? Maybe I did too many runs on hard surfaces? Maybe I should have done a better job listening too my body on that long run when my hip was hurting? As my counseling professor would say, I am “shoulding all over myself.”  And that is not a good thing.

Last week someone suggested to me that my body is telling me that it is time to hang up my running shoes and find another sport or fitness activity.  My immediate reaction was to become angry and dismissive of the comment, but deep down inside I started to wonder if maybe she was right. What if I am getting too old to run? What if my body can no longer handle the miles I attempt to log every week? My heart ached as I began to imagine a life without my running goals and dreams, a life without my running friends, a life without running. A life without running is totally unacceptable to me.

I am a runner. For the longest time I had difficulty owning that statement.  “I run sometimes,” I would say.  I thought I had to be a certain kind of runner to actually be able to call myself a runner.  Like one who ran track in high school, one who consistently runs races or one who runs at a certain pace.  But now I will call myself a runner instead of just saying “I run”, and this is how running enriches my life: Running brings calm and sanity to my otherwise chaotic mind and life in a way that no other sport or physical activity ever has. Yes, it can be hard, painful and brutal, but as with life, that is also part of its beauty. Running is both my time to be social and my time to be with my own thoughts. I have met some of my closest friends through running. I have seen the beauty of nature and the beauty of humanity through running. And I intend to run for as long as I possibly can.

eliz-edwards-quote

I have struggled with several bouts of depression in my life.  When I have been in the depths of depression trying with all of my might to climb out I have sometimes felt that perhaps I was not trying hard enough.  That maybe if I worked just a little bit harder I could beat depression. But that was not always the case. I did not always need to try harder. Sometimes I just needed to try differently. A different approach, a different medication, a different therapist, an alternative type of treatment.

So I am applying this approach to my hip ailment. Try differently. It is easy for me to feel frustrated that I am injured in spite of the fact that I do an inordinate amount of hip strengthening exercises, core exercises, cross training, and increase my mileage slowly. However, the negative energy and negative thoughts do no good. I am here now searching for answers and trying the next thing. And keep trying I will until I find some answers and find something that works. Because giving up is just not an option.

Trusting the Process Part II: Uncoordinated Runner Attempts Mountain Biking

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I am not coordinated.  I fall while running, while walking, while going up stairs, you name the activity and I’ll find a way to injure myself.  My daughter’s name means “one who walks with a strong proud gait.”  It is my hope that by bestowing such a name on her she will be more graceful than her poor mom.  But I digress…

My husband wants to do a long bike ride for his upcoming 40th birthday and was sweet enough to buy me a nice mountain bike so that I could join him.  The first time I took it out I crashed within 15 minutes.  Today I rode with my husband in lieu of doing my long run.  We were on a beautiful trail in the mountains in McCall, Idaho.  I don’t think this trail would be considered difficult or technical by any standards.  Nice and wide with some ruts, not too steep.  About three miles in I somehow popped my chain off of the gears and got it stuck.  While my husband was patiently trying to fix my bike for me, I was repeating to myself, “This moment is exactly as it should be. This moment is exactly as it should be.”  But although my head was saying that and my eyes were looking around and trying to appreciate the beautiful scenery and the peace and quiet of being along in the mountains with my husband, my heart was screaming the following:

“This moment is NOT as it should be!  I should be on a long run!  Or with my running team at the Famous Potato Races trying to get a PR! What is wrong with me? Why am I always injured? I don’t like mountain biking.  I should sell this bike.”  I almost burst into tears.

But I got back on my bike. Repeating, “This moment is exactly how it should be.”  My encouraging husband kept telling me what a great job I was doing even though he had to slow his pace and frequently wait for me while I walked my bike around ruts that I was too timid to ride around.  I felt like my heart rate was getting higher more from the adrenaline pumping through my body due to my fear of crashing rather than anything my legs were doing to power me up the hills.  My hands were getting tired from white knuckling the handlebars.  I knew there was so much beauty around me, yet I was afraid if I took my eyes off of the trail in front of me, I would miss a rut, rock, or stick and crash.  At one point my husband asked me if I was having fun and I just smiled.  Fear and frustration had been the more dominant emotions, and I didn’t want to lie.  As I rode along I thought also about a passage I read earlier this week in a book called “How Champions Think” by Bob Rotella.  In it he says that “Failure is only final when you stop striving.”

So even though I was slow, clumsy and awkward on the mountain bike, even though I was missing running something fierce, I was no failure.  I was out there.  I was only a failure if I stopped trying. This moment is exactly as it should be.

As my husband and I got to our halfway point and turned around, the most amazing thing happened.  I started to relax and bike a little faster.  I was able to take my eyes off the bike for long enough to enjoy the amazing views around me.  I was able to chat with my husband some and enjoy his company.  A luxury that we don’t get very often with three small kids in the house!  I was actually enjoying myself and having fun!  I returned home from that ride happy, refreshed and with a feeling of accomplishment.  And when I got on the bike again a couple of hours later to ride with my kids I realized that my legs had gotten much more of a workout than I thought.

I will get back on that bike and ride again with my husband tomorrow.  And I will probably be scared.  And I will probably get off of the bike and walk around the ruts.  But I will do it.  And I will keep going.

IMG_5724

Trying to keep up!

Trusting the Process

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This moment is exactly as is should be. Words spoken to me this week by my friend and coach, who also happens to be a very well rounded and smart woman who I admire and respect.  So I’ve taken these words to heart and tried to make them my mantra with respect to my hip injury, which was the topic of our conversation, and life in general. Easier said than done.

I have no idea what is wrong with my hip.  I have had hip problems since we were blessed with child #3 with the large and non-molding head.  My hips will often get tight and sore along the iliac crest.  I’ve been to multiple physical therapists and do a litany of hip strengthening exercises on a regular basis, yet the problem persists.  On this most recent flare up, which involves my right hip, it seems to have gone up into my side as well.  I feel like maybe I have strained an oblique?  I have an appointment with a doctor next week.  I have not been able to run for about a week and a half now (read: the situation is getting dire!), so I’ve made appointments with various specialists in an attempt to get to the root of this problem.  I made an appointment with an orthopedic doctor, a pelvic floor therapist (doesn’t that sound fun?! I thought so.), and an osteopath. To my surprise, I was able to get in to see the doctor first, the therapist second, and the osteopath a distant third.  Go figure.

Anyway, the forced break from running has made me slightly grumpy.  If you ask my husband he might say it’s more than slightly, but whatever.  The last marathon I ran was the Marine Corps Marathon in 2006.  Against my better judgment, I attempted it on an IT band injury ended up hobbling across the finish line in around six hours.  It was ugly.  I was on crutches for a week afterwards.  Nine years and three kids later, I finally feel ready to attempt another marathon.  I registered for St. George this year and no sooner does the payment clear than my hip thing rears its ugly head to the point that I cannot run without pain.  This moment is exactly as it should be.

Yes, it’s true.  I am doing things I would not otherwise be doing if I did not have the forced break from running.  I am doing more cross training, different types of cross training, I tried a new swim workout, and I am learning new strengthening exercises.  All while listening to some new podcasts and learning some new things.  But I also miss running and my running group.  I fully intend to come back to both with a renewed mind, body and spirit and ready to train.  And meanwhile I repeat (often while gritting teeth). This moment is exactly as it should be.

I am trying to make this my mantra in daily life too.  In the moments that are not so pleasant.  Like when I finally sit down to eat after having driven three hours and having fed all of the little people and then the littlest one crawls up on my lap having pooped in this pants. This moment is exactly as it should be?

Or when all three kids are yelling and screaming at each other in the back seat and I am trying to drive.  This moment is exactly as it should be?

Or when it’s 10:00pm and the kids are still running around like mice on crack and all I want is to watch a TV show or curl up with a book.  This moment is exactly as it should be?

Ok, so this is going to take some time and practice.  I have never been accused of being the most patient person in the world.  Perhaps the universe is trying to teach me patience.  And to trust and enjoy the process.  For it is not the end result that makes the journey worthwhile, but the journey itself.  Yes indeed, perhaps this moment, these moments, are exactly as they should be. 

How Many Runners Does it Take to Decode a Swim Workout?

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Four.  The answer is four.  With one of them being a high school swimmer, another a college swimmer, the third a 70.3 IronWoman, and the fourth who sometimes fancies herself a sprint distance triathlete but has minimal knowledge of swim lingo (that would be me!).

So I’ve had this nagging/reoccurring/annoying/difficult to diagnose hip soreness issue since I had my third child (he’s three and a half now so I’m ready to be done with the hip thing) and it has been really sore this week so I used this as my motivation to check out a Swim Fit workout at my local YMCA.  I looked online to find out more information beforehand.  It is advertised as a coached workout for any level swimmer looking to improve speed, stroke, and/or endurance.  Sounds good!  I also tried to find someone at the Y to talk to about the workouts, but no one seemed to know anything, so I just showed up on Friday morning at 6:30 am with my suit, cap and goggles.

The Masters swimmers were finishing up their workout and I asked the lifeguard who would be coaching the Swim Fit workout.  She said the coach wasn’t there yet and gave me a nice speech about listening to my body during the workout and told me if I needed help I could always call out for a lifeguard.  Good to know! 6:30 rolls around, still no coach, the Masters swimmers are getting out of the pool and other swimmers are getting in, so I ask a nice lady how the Swim Fit workouts work and she tells me just to follow the instructions on the white board.  Like so:

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Um, okay then.  Another guy gets in the lane with me and tells me he’s just going to swim freestyle the whole time.  I think he has the right idea, but I am going to give the workout a try since that’s why I came.  400 swim: okay, 200 kick: got that, 4×50: makes sense, 4×75 build: say what?! And what are those times there? Is that how long it is supposed to take me? And why only three times? 1:10? That’s about how long it takes me to swim 50 yards, not 75. Wow, I’ve got some work to do.  Okay, nevermind.  I’ll just do 4×75. The bottom half of the board also confused me and by the time I got there I had already swam a mile, so I called it good.  Again, maybe the guy next to me swimming freestyle had the right idea!

I went home, posted the workout photo on the Boise Betties running group page, and my swimmer pals came to my rescue.  Together we (read: they) decoded this workout (for my amateur self).  That, my friends, is teamwork!  The next question is, how many runners does it take to fix my hip so I can get back to the track and the trails where I really want to be?!