Hey, it DOES rain in Oregon!

We had a late night last night (great gig with the band, and I swear I’ll give everyone a good band update soon, with pictures), so we slept until about 10:30 this morning.  I think that’s the first time we’ve slept that late since we got here.  We had no plans, no obligations – the only thing we both wanted to do with go for a long bike ride.

It was overcast and gloomy, but Weather Underground said there was a 0% chance of rain, so we got up, got dressed for a chilly workout, and went out onto the deck to get our bikes.  I thought it was drizzling, but Weather Underground said it wasn’t, so I must have been mistaken.  And that water on my sunglasses obscuring my vision?  That couldn’t have been raindrops.  Must have been sweat condensing into raindrop-like droplets on the outside of the lenses.

Once we got over the chill (cold fingers, cold ears), our ride was pretty pleasant, not-drizzle notwithstanding, and we needed the 13 miles behind us to make up for the burgers we grilled on our brand new (cheap) charcoal grill yesterday (and the leftover potato salad we’re going to eat tonight).  Yesterday was beautiful, sunny, and 80 degrees.  Today, 53 degrees and cloudy, but not raining.  Of course.  It’s sunny now, now that we’re in for the evening and about to watch MCU movies to prep for seeing Civil War next weekend.  SO excited for that!

Outside

We went hiking today!  Okay, “hiking”.  Fine.  We went for a walk.  We live at the base of Skinner Butte, and there’s a trail that winds around it to get to the top.  After more than two weeks of looking at it, we finally climbed it.  I think the walk up is prettier than the views from the top.  We’re going to have to get out of town to get the truly spectacular views.

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Paths.  I love my paths.

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I was waiting for something to come crawling out of this tree trunk.

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Overgrown path…and I have a picture of these GIANT primordial ferns, but I get an error when I try to transfer it to my laptop, so you’ll just have to imagine the giant ferns.  I noticed that when we went hiking with Will and Christina last October.  The woods looked prehistoric.  I expected dinosaurs to come charging through.  Not so much THESE woods, but I want to get out of town again soon.

Couple of views from the top, facing south.

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I think that peak is Spencer Butte, but what do I know?

Lots of reasons

I need to relax more.  I don’t mean to say that I’m rushing around like a crazy person (I’m not), but I’m starting to feel stressed again.  Deep breathing isn’t always working for me (I don’t feel like I can breathe deeply enough, which is bad enough on its own, but then adds to the stress), and my brain is racing.  It’s not about the move (although I’m sure the fact that it’s creeping closer and we have a lot to do isn’t helping, but really – that feels under control), and it’s not just about work.  It’s probably a lot about work, but there’s no quick fix for that (not any that don’t involve their own kinds of stress).  Regardless, I just want to handle it better.

This afternoon, John went off to fly, and I turned on the Yoga Radio station on Pandora.  My plan was to listen to it for a while during the end of my work day and then DO some yoga.  I managed half of that…I didn’t make it to the actual yoga part.  But it’s a start!

I think I’m going to drink less coffee, too.  Once I’m out of the creamer I have.  (No reason to let that go bad.)  I drank the last glass of a bottle of wine last night, and I’m thinking about not opening the next bottle for a while.  Part of the reason (for both coffee and wine) is the stress thing.  The rest of it is just that they’re empty calories.  I don’t need them.

And maybe this whole stress thing is coming on right now because I haven’t been exercising regularly this week.  I didn’t feel like this last week, and last week I ran five days in a row.  Then we had a massive snow storm, and I only ran once (Tuesday), and it wasn’t much of a run since I had to keep doubling back when the sidewalks ended in unshoveled snow and I kept stopping to pick my way across slush and ice.  I haven’t been to the gym, and I certainly haven’t done any exercising at home (because lazy).  Instead, I’ve eaten cookies and blueberry muffins and nachos.  Tonight’s dinner is chili, so I’m not really helping myself out there.  Make better choices!  I will.  Soon.

Manly men at the gym

When we go to the gym (which I haven’t done even once this week – stupid, considering how cold it’s been), I usually spend 20-25 minutes with dumbbells in the weight room, and then I run away to the boxing side for half an hour or so.  I like to go at lunchtime because the gym is usually fairly empty then.  The boxing side is ALWAYS empty then.  The few times we’ve gone early in the morning, the place has been packed.  There’s a class in the boxing room (but not necessarily a boxing class), there are people running back and forth, and the weight room is full of personal trainers and their trainees.  I feel crowded out.  Hate that.  They’re not unwelcoming, but there are so MANY of them.

Anyway, I prefer to go in the middle of the day.  There are usually no more than a couple to three guys in the weight room, and we all ignore each other.  This one day last week, they got all boisterous, while still totally ignoring me (which is good).  I was flat on my back on a weight bench (chest press, fly, and skull crushers – love the name of that one), eyes focused on the weights and the ceiling, and all I could hear was macho positive reinforcement.  The air was thick with testosterone and “you GOT this” and “YEAH” and “way to go, bro!” (I didn’t make that one up) and “just one more!”  It was…sweet.

Then my arms gave out (with my measly little dumbbells), and I hightailed it to the boxing room so I could beat up on a bag.  Alone.

Stiff and sore

John and I found a boxing gym not too far away, and we finally went to check it out Wednesday night.   This gym has boxing classes a few times a week (that we might not be able to get to all that often), but better than that, it’s open a good amount of hours, and we can get in any time to work out on the bag on our own or use the weight room.  It’s only been five weeks since our last boxing class, but apparently, five weeks is enough to take away all the goodness we’d gained.  We found that out the hard way.  We took a class at 5:45 Wednesday night that wasn’t that different from some of Nick’s classes at our old gym.  We started with sprinting, hit the bag for a while, and finished with an ab workout.  It was tough, but doable.  And then we woke up Thursday morning.

Oh my god, I was sore.  Stiff all over, too sore to move.  And today?  Not much better.  Here’s hoping I can hobble through a run tomorrow morning.

We’re just going to have to pick up boxing again to toughen up (which we wanted to do anyway).  And hurt a little bit.  Does anyone have any ibuprofen?

Heart rate ramblings

The American Heart Association says that when you exercise, you should try to keep your heart rate between 50% and 85% of your maximum heart rate.  The easy way to get your maximum heart rate is to subtract your age from 220.  So my max heart rate is about 184 beats per minute.  85% of my max heart rate is 156 bpm.  My GPS watch came with a heart rate monitor, so I’m usually wearing that when I run.  Based on those guidelines, my warmup should keep me around 100 bpm, and I shouldn’t reach 156 until I’m working hard.  But that’s not how it works for me.  I reach 156 bpm with a light jog.  Running uphill, I hit 165-170.  Sprinting, 185 to 190.

So….am I stressing my heart?  About to die?  I don’t feel like I am.  At 156 bpm, I’m not even breathing hard.  I know those are guidelines, but should I be worried?  I’d been wondering about this for a while, and I finally remembered to ask my doctor about it while I was actually AT the doctor’s office.  (That almost never happens.)

Answer?  If I feel fine, I shouldn’t worry.  They really are just guidelines, and it’s okay if they don’t apply to me exactly right.  So, okay.  No worrying.  But I’m glad I finally asked about it.  I kept remembering that runner a few years ago in Colorado (?) who was running in the heat and had a heart attack and died.  No history of heart problems.  I wasn’t actually worrying about this.  Really.  I lost NO sleep about it.  I just wondered.  Now I don’t have to wonder.  And neither do you.

But I am curious about my resting heart rate.  Sitting here right now, my heart rate is 72 bpm.  You’re supposed to get your resting heart rate after you wake up in the morning, before you get out of bed.  For one thing, I never remember that.  For another, what about alarm clocks?  Does it only count if you wake up naturally?  If the alarm startles you awake, wouldn’t that mean your heart rate is somewhat elevated?  I haven’t checked it in years (either I don’t think about it at all, or I do, but not when I’ve just woken up), but the last time I remember checking, my resting heart rate was about 60 bpm.  I’m curious to see what it is now.  But that will require me to remember to check.  And I don’t have a morning without an alarm coming up for almost two weeks.  Maybe a little more.

Life is a stage

My run this morning was so great, it had to have been faked somehow.  I’m pretty sure I was on a movie set.  It was around 8:30 on a beautiful Saturday morning in spring.  The sky was clear and brilliantly blue and the sun was shining.  Everyone I passed answered my “Good morning!” or least waved or smiled back at me.  My running playlist (which is huge and on perpetual shuffle so I’m always surprised) skewed heavily toward Dean Martin with Three Dog Night’s “Let Me Serenade You” to bring me to the finish line.  The trees are still in bloom, and – I swear I’m not making this up – as I passed under a couple of cherry trees, a breeze picked up, and I ran through a cloud of tiny pink blossoms falling to the ground.  The only things missing were chirping cartoon bird.  I think I’ve seen this happen to Jennifer Garner.  Minus the cartoon birds.  I guess neither of us rate those.

Unreal.

Sleeping until 7am feels sinful

This whole getting up at 5:15 every morning thing is wearing thin.  I like working out in the morning MUCH more than doing it at night, but 5:15 is just SO EARLY.  I’m 36 years old – I shouldn’t feel like I’m up past my bedtime at 9.  It’s 8:34 right now, and I can feel the anxiety creeping in.  I’d better start getting ready for bed so I can be falling sleep by 9 or a little after.  I know I need about 8 hours every night, but worrying about not getting enough sleep doesn’t exactly help.

Good news, though: the end is in sight.  We just have to make it to August.  We’ll continue getting up this early most mornings as long as we live here and belong to this gym.  The 6am class is the class we can get to before work, with the instructor we like, and the other people we know and like, so we’ll stick it out.  Even if we’re working from home before then.  We might not go that early EVERY day if we’re working from home, but instructor, people, etc.  We’ll do it sometimes.

Once we’re really working from home, we’ll have more control over the work-day schedule.  No commute?  That’s sleep-in time!  No office clothes or office people?  The post-workout shower can wait a bit.  More sleep-in time!

But speaking of sleeping, it’s 8:43 now, and I need to get ready for bed.

No more (for now)

We’ve decided to take a break (again) from Downton Abbey.  Last night, all we did after we got home from work was make dinner (John was in charge – penne with olive oil, mushrooms, spinach, and parmesan) and then watch several hours of that show.  (You can’t watch just one episode!)  I feel like a slug.  Maybe it’ll be a weekend-only show.

I need to get outside more.  The forecast is encouraging…in fact, I might try to get outside at lunch time today.  I brought my lunch (Again!  I know!), but that’s not a reason to stay chained to my desk.  Leaving the building doesn’t mean I have to get something else for lunch.

Abandoned the lunch idea.  The plan: work through lunch (which I usually do anyway) and try to get out of here a little early and go for an easy jog!  Get some sunshine and feel less slug-like at the same time!  I feel confident I can pull this off.  Semi-confident.  Okay, there’s a 50% chance I can get out of here early.

Breakthrough!

I think I figured out my weird achy arm thing.  I mean, I think John figured out my weird achy arm thing.  I first noticed it Friday morning when I woke up, so I assumed I slept on it funny.  John remembered that in Doug’s class Thursday morning, we did assisted pull-ups (there’s a cool machine for that) during our warm-up.  I’ve done that before and it was fine, but I remember thinking it felt really awkward and weird that morning, so I probably hurt myself then and I just didn’t feel it until the next morning.  Four or five days later, it finally doesn’t hurt anymore.  Well, it doesn’t hurt right now.  Maybe it’s better?

SO close

There were 10 glorious minutes this morning when I thought I was going to be able to sleep in.  Right after our alarm went off this morning (for the early early boxing class), I got a text from Doug saying his key wasn’t working and he couldn’t get into the gym, so class was off.  Oh, look!  Sleep is beckoning!  I reset the alarm (for almost TWO HOURS later) and then texted our friend Erica so she wouldn’t show up to the class unnecessarily and be stuck out in the cold.  So maybe I only got nine minutes.  Well, I spent probably another minute considering getting up and going to the other gym or going for a run.  Considered it.  Decided against it.  So maybe I only got eight minutes before the next text came in.  I almost didn’t check it – thought it was going to a reply from Erica.  I think it’s a good thing that I checked it.  Pretty sure.  I was awake already, I’d planned to get up and work out, and I didn’t actually go back to sleep in those eight minutes.  So I checked the text – it was Doug saying he got in, and he’ll be there training if we want to show up.  There was really no question after that.  We went.  There was some speculation about how he got in (back door?  picked the locks?  in through a rooftop vent?), but the answer was much more mundane.  (There are two sets of doors facing the front.  He wasn’t using his keys on the right set.)  I prefer the version where Doug is a cat burglar, able to get in to any locked building without being caught.

Crush

My yoga class was PACKED last night.  It seems the beginning of the year gym rush has begun.  Of course, since I haven’t been going to yoga lately, I suppose I could admit that I’m part of that rush.  I guess.  But I have different reasons!  I’m not there because of a resolution.  I’m not going to quit in three weeks because I’ve failed to reach my unrealistic goals!  I have realistic goals!  And I missed yoga.  I was just having a hard time finding the time to fit it in.  It’s just a coincidence that it’s also early January, right after New Year’s.  So I’m different, right?  Anybody?

No?

Oh, well.  Just call me Bessie.  I’m one of the herd.

The stuff of nightmares

We had a substitute instructor fill in for Julia (who I’ve decided I like, although not as much as Lisa) at zumba Wednesday night.  I liked her a lot (Jessica) despite her choice to wear purple from head to toe.  I mean that literally: hat, tank top, sports bra, pants, and shoes were all the same shade of purple.  Maybe I liked her partly because of that.  She was fun and energetic, so I’m sure that played a part, too.  But it was a little like dancing with a teletubby.  The purple one was Tinky-Winky, right?

TinkyWinky

 

Pro Tip: Don’t google pictures of Tinky Winky.  There are some super scary/disturbing pictures of teletubbies out there.  I didn’t need to see that.  Of course, they were a little disturbing from the get-go.  They have dead eyes.

Slacking off and feeling bad about it

I didn’t go to yoga last night.  I went two Tuesdays ago for the first time in a year and a half, and it was great.  I’m ready to get back into it.  Really.  Except that last Tuesday was the first day I tried Doug’s boxing class, and I was all-over achy (especially in my shoulders).  Yoga has lots of shoulder work, and I hurt.  I ran that morning, too, and three workouts in one day seemed excessive.  Excuses?  Sure.  But I didn’t go.  I was going to go last night, but then I didn’t, and now I feel like I let down the instructor, my yogamates, and I don’t know who else (maybe all the people in the world who would go to yoga if they could).  You know, because the world revolves around me and everyone is paying that much attention to what I do.  If the class were bigger, I probably wouldn’t feel this way, but attendance has been dwindling.  When I went two weeks ago, I was only one of two students.  So I made a commitment to go, to myself, to the instructor, to my yogamate, and then I didn’t show.  Bad Zannah!

Sometimes, they’re really truly asking for it

I hit someone yesterday.  Lots of times.  With my fists.  He asked me to.  Insisted, in fact.

Oh, hey, background: I’ve been going to the M/W/F boxing class since that first time I went in early August.  I like it.  A lot.  But that’s not where I hit the guy.  I mean, yes, it was in a boxing class, but not that one (because yesterday was Tuesday, not Monday, Wednesday, or Friday).  John and I both go to the  M/W/F class, with this one instructor (Nick), and a fairly stable group of regulars.  John has been going to the T/Th class with a different instructor (Doug), and for a few months now, he’s been the only person there.  (The class is at 5:30am, it’s at the other location, not everyone likes Doug’s teaching style…)  John has basically been training one-on-one with Doug twice a week, and he really enjoys it (now that he’s convinced Doug that he really doesn’t want anything to do with kickboxing).

Too much background?  I like to explain things.

John has told me a lot about Doug, a lot about how his class is very different from Nick’s, and he’s invited me to go along many times, but I didn’t feel ready.  I feel more comfortable now that I have some basics down (kind of), so I decided Tuesday was the day (since Tuesday was Veteran’s Day and I didn’t have to go to work).  The first thing Doug did once it was my turn on the mat (John and I traded rounds with Doug on the mat, and then in the ring) was stick out his chin and tell me to hit him.  My first jab was somewhat tentative.  “No, HIT me.”  So I did.  Right in the mouth.  Doug: “There.  That’s what it feels like.”  Then he put his hands up, and he let me hit him, sometimes blocking, sometimes not.  I think he was trying to get me recognize openings and also stop dropping my right hand (’cause then he’d tap me on right side of my head).  Early on, I hit him with a left hook to the ear, HARD, said, “OH, I’m sorry,” and he said not to worry about it.  That I can’t hit him hard enough to hurt him.  I know I’m new at this, but he says the same thing to John, who has a powerful arm.  And seriously, guys, I landed that one.  ON HIS EAR.  And he didn’t even blink.  His head must be stone.  After that, I got over my fear of hitting him and took him at his word that I couldn’t hurt him.  You want me to hit you?  I’ll hit you.  I’ll try, anyway.

So that was fun.  I’ll go back.  I just don’t know if I can take boxing five days a week.  Plus, if I’m boxing every morning, when will I run?  John hasn’t been running at all, and he’s missing it.  We’ll have to figure this out.

Good start

Today is going to be a good day.  It’s nice and cool, perfect weather for running.  I ran three miles, listening to Welcome to Night Vale for most of it.  When the episode ended, I switched to music since I don’t have the next Night Vale yet, and one of the last songs I heard as I pushed to the end was “Waiting for a Star to Fall” by Boy Meets Girl, which I LOVE.  Always have.  So yay happy song, right?  I got home, put Riley’s collar on (making him a happy dog – yay for a walk), and as we left the house, “Mr. Blue Sky” came on.  Super yay happy song!  So I was singing along as we headed up the hill, and Riley seemed to be doing well, and really, how could the morning be better?  The answer, apparently, is to follow ELO with some Queen, since “Hammer to Fall” came on next.  Now I’m home, stretching (and typing), all smiles, and today is going to be okay.

Speaking of music, we saw Guardians of the Galaxy Saturday night (liked it a lot) – the soundtrack is fantastic.

“Waiting for a Star to Fall” , Boy Meets Girl

“Mr. Blue Sky”, ELO

“Hammer to Fall”, Queen

Branching out

John has been taking boxing classes at two local UFC gyms (used to be LA Boxing) for about a year and a half now.  I went with him Friday morning for the first time.  The instructor was really nice.  He wrapped my hands for me, found me a pair of boxing gloves (bright blue), gave me some pointers, and checked on me a few times during class.  A class I was sure I could handle.  I’m in okay shape, right?  I thought I knew what it was going to be like.  John had described his classes to me dozens of times.  They learn punches and combos, and they hit punching bags suspended from above, and they do calisthenics between rounds of hitting the bags.  And yeah, we did all those things.  Over and over, no breaks, at a pretty fast pace, for an hour.  It was nuts.  And it was hard.  I was sweating like a pig.  I went to get some water at one point and realized I couldn’t open the top with my gloves on, but after 5 seconds of trying to get one glove off, I gave up.  John helped me later.  Next time (if there is a next time), I’ll leave the straw up.  We did a lot of pushups between rounds, and near the end of the class, I got down in the up position and couldn’t move.  No more pushups for me.  Class finally ended, and I went off to work.  I didn’t hurt, but my arms and hands were shaky all morning.  Wraps and gloves are all very well, but my knuckles were red for a few hours.

But still, I didn’t hurt.  Not until I tried to get out of bed this morning.  Almost every muscle in my body, from my butt to my jaw, ACHED.  (I don’t know how my legs escaped, but I’m not complaining about that.)  Most of those muscles still ache.  I was afraid that if I didn’t move, I’d get stuck in some weird position with weird posture forever, so I went to zumba this morning.  Hard, but good.  I stopped feeling like one massive bruise.  The ache began to feel more like the good kind, the you-worked-hard-but-didn’t-hurt-yourself kind.  So this afternoon I got a haircut (basically the same one as earlier in the summer) and brought home milkshakes.  Because if hurting all over doesn’t mean I deserve a milkshake, I don’t know what does.

I haven’t decided if I’m going back Monday morning.  I might.

I can wear shoes!

I never thought I’d be so excited about wearing shoes.  And socks!  Turns out a whole week of not being able to wear anything other than flip-flops is nearly more than I can take.  Mostly it was going a week without being able to run (or go to the gym for any reason, including zumba, because working out in flip-flops is not recommended) that was bothering me.  I was doing so well and working out so consistently!  Didn’t want to lose my momentum.

Why couldn’t I wear shoes?  That’s what happens when you have a violent encounter with a cabinet.  You lose (painfully) the toenail off your left big toe, and since it hurts so goddamn much, you can’t wear shoes.  That’s what happened to me last Saturday night.  I was in an unfamiliar hotel room, it was pitch black, I was trying to find my way to the bathroom, and boom: cabinet, toe, toenail askew, lots of profanity.  It was the middle of the night, though, so I continued on my way to the bathroom and back to bed and sleep (despite the throbbing).  It wasn’t until I got up the next morning that I actually looked at my toe (and the barely attached nail) and grossed myself out.  (And you just now, I’m sure.  Sorry.)  I’ll spare you the pictures (because I did take pictures).  Emily and Molly, my angels, went to a nearby drugstore and bought me some bandages and a pair of flip-flops (I didn’t have a single pair of completely open-toe shoes with me), and I patched myself up (mostly rinsing and covering) enough to get home.  Or to get to Urgent Care.  I went there first after 5 hours on the road (it was supposed to be a three-hour trip – this was not a good day).  The Urgent Care people, thankfully, were really nice.  They numbed my toe and removed my nail the rest of the way and sent it home with me.  I almost didn’t take it, but I figured I’d have to show John (who was appropriately creeped out that I thought he’d want to see my detached toenail.  But he totally did.).  Don’t worry, people – I threw it away the next day.  No one who comes to visit has to worry about mutant red-painted toenails crawling towards their feet.

My toe didn’t really hurt anymore by Friday, so that morning I tried to go for a run.  I didn’t get past putting on socks.  Socks are tight!  Did you ever think about that?  Too much pressure.  So I didn’t run on Friday.  Saturday was yard-work day, so I had the brilliant idea of borrowing John’s very large socks.  No pressure, I was able to put on shoes, and (lucky me) I was able to help with the weeding and mulching.  With that success behind me, I put on my own socks today, waited out the uncomfortable pressure for a few minutes, added my shoes, and out for a run I went.  I am back.  Thank goodness.  I was getting tired of flip-flops at work every day.  Everyone could hear me coming.

There’s no judging in yoga

It’s Thursday already.  That’s quick for this week and yet not quick enough.  I was reminded yesterday that yoga is on Thursday nights now, and I’m tempted to go.  I haven’t been since last June.  I probably won’t tonight (I’m practically falling asleep while typing, and I’m afraid if I go to yoga, I’ll just start snoring), but I’d like to put it back into my normal schedule.  Wednesday nights for Zumba, Thursday nights for yoga.  But then I look at having another evening away from home, and I don’t want that.  I like being at home.  It’s restful, even when remodeling projects are going on.  (Speaking of, I promise to take pictures and post them soon.)  And I’m a little afraid to go back – the other students have all continued and, I’m sure, improved, whereas my flexibility has gone WAY downhill.  On the other hand, it’s probably not worse than the first I went.  But, more importantly, who cares?  It’s yoga.  No judging allowed.  Or people will judge you.  (You’re allowed to judge people for judging people about the wrong things.  Besides, judging people is fun.  I mean wrong.  Judging people is wrong.)

Pushed it a little today

I went to my normal Wednesday night zumba class only to discover that another zumba instructor was coming in to do a class right after ours.  Surprise double zumba!  So of course I stayed.  And it was fun.  But I only just got home, I’m achy and tired and hungry (I didn’t eat dinner) and whiny, apparently.  I’m eating a piece of toast with peanut butter and going directly to bed.  John’s getting up stupid-early tomorrow morning to go to boxing, and I get to decide if I’m getting up to go to the gym when he gets up.  On the one hand, I put in over two and half hours of exercise today (counting this morning) – take a day off.  On the other hand, I’m taking Saturday, Sunday, and Monday off, so go.  Go, go.  If I leave it up to Future Me to decide, it’s almost certain I won’t get out of bed.  But it will kind of depend on the state of my aches.  Which will it be?  Tune in tomorrow to find out.