Triathlon... training
History:
A few years ago I decided I will do a triathlon. I have been in training ever since. At times, it's fairly intense training, and other times, much more focused on things like recovering from a C-section taking care of our little one, and doing what I can for my clients as a medical social worker. You know, I even won several Toastmaster competitions with my triathlon speech 4 or so years ago. If I can find that old speech, I'll post it on here.
Past:
So, here's the latest. I decided April was the month to do another month long iron man. The YMCA here calls it the Lazy Man Ironman. That's how I first got going with this training version of a real triathlon. My goal in April was to stationary bike 112 miles, walk 26.2 miles and swim 2.4 miles. Well, that's not completely accurate with the swimming. Swimming is my favorite and my best of the three events. Swimming 2.4 miles is 85 laps. I can do that in a half a month, so my goal was to swim 170 laps in April. In actuality I swam 250 laps (yea, I really rock with the swimming), biked 121.5 miles, and walked 26.2, meeting or exceeding each one, and completing my April triathlon goal.
Current:
It is very difficult for me to keep active like this without a challenging goal. And, I decided to continue it. I have from the beginning of April to the end of July to do the following: walk 100 miles, Swim 26.2 miles, and bike 500 miles. My April totals count, and I am on track to for what I need to get done in May. It pretty much means doing my swim twice a week (just under a mile of front crawl swimming each time), biking 10 miles on the stationary most days of the week. And walking 1.5 miles a day 5 days a week (every day I don't swim). I also plan to do more and more biking on the road vs. stationary. It's actually much more difficult, and I do about half the miles in the same amount of time. The other trick is that I saw a podiatrist a few weeks ago for foot pain. He wants me to not do as much walking, and substitute more biking, swimming, and other aerobic activities. Well, triathlons are not more biking, swimming, and other aerobic activity, so I am trying to compromise with that. For now, I have decided not to increase my walking distances, and to just keep at the 1.5 per day. When I get new shoes and new orthodic inserts and my foot pain goes down, I'll steadily increase the distances up to 3-3.5 miles.
Future Plans this Season:
These four months are accumulating into a real triathlon. My birthday is on a Friday this year. I will be doing an unsponsored and unofficial triathlon. The event distances are the same as the Sprint Distances in the annual Lifetime Fitness Triathlon in Minneapolis. I will start at the Blaisdell YMCA at 7AM and swim 15 laps, then transition as quick as I reasonably as I can and bike 15 miles. The route primarily includes the Midtown Greenway and Lake Calhoun so I can avoid road biking as much as possible. I will then lock my bike up at the Y or put it in the van, probably take a bathroom break, and walk 3.2 miles. It's 1.6 miles from the Blaisdell Y to the Lake of the Isles. I'll take 31st all the way to the lake, turn around and head back.
Does this sound interesting to you? It is unofficial and unsponsored. However, if you want to join me for any or all of the events, I am sure I would enjoy the company. The walking is my weakest event, and I imagine I'll be tired by then, so company on the walk would be especially nice. Note, it will be a s-l-o-w pace if you want to actually walk with me. If you want to bring a book and some tunes and do timings for me - each event, transition times, and grand total - that would be awesome. If you want to be part of my birthday dinner out somewhere later that day and hear how it went, all right then, see you there. I am fine with doing this by myself, except for the dinner afterward part, but would enjoy company if anyone thinks it would be fun.
Future Ideas: I have some trepidation to say much more about future triathlon plans because my ideas past this are not as set in stone. And, a friend told me that sometimes talking about plans too much diminishes the likelihood that they will become reality. I'm still not sure I believe that, but I'll be a bit careful here just in case. Let's leave it that I still plan to do a "real" sponsored and official triathlon before I end my 41st year, and I am thinking of other ideas to keep my training interesting. More to come....
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
My little one is much improved. She's not 100% for sure, but a lot better. She had a fever yesterday mid-morning, and none since. She is tired and whinny today, but mostly A-OK. Oh, she's hungry. She ate breakfast, then 20 minutes later ate breakfast, and then when I sat down to eat a few minuets later, she put her bib on and asked for... breakfast.
Now, for some other news. Let's start with history. When I was two years old my family bought a dog. Some neighbors up the road had a new litter of puppies, and we picked the runt. She was a cute little black puppy. She was a mutt, but mostly a Coca poo. We loved her, a lot, and kept her very busy. That little dog went through so much with us. How could she not being in a family of 7 kids? She was my best friend growing up, available 24/7 to listen to my sorrows and my ramblings. By the time I was past the annoying little kid for a dog stage, she picked me as her favorite (I hope my sibs don't read this). She slept with me every night, and if my twin brother tried to take her for a night, she would cry and scratch at his door until he let her out and she found her way upstairs to my/her room. I remember walks and taking her on car rides. She would get so excited to run free, and would run circles around us in the yard or in the park, yapping happily. We even took her sledding with us. She would chase us down the hill barking and trying to bite our mittens. We think she was actually scared we were in danger and was trying to slow us down and protect us. Even when I was an older teen and very busy, I always made it a point to pet her and greet her each time I walked by her. She often slept right in the middle of my small bed, with me manoeuvring my body around her to not disturb her slumber. When I was way too old for an early bed time and she was getting old, she would sit by the door to my room and wait for me, crying to go to bed. The door was open, the bed available, but she wanted me in there with her. There were many times during those growing up years that I told her my sorrows, or cried into her fur. Somewhere I have a picture of her curled up on my bed. That's how I usually remember her, the skinny, wonderful little dog named Bridgette.
Around Christmas during my senior year of High School, Bridgette got a tumor in her mouth. My twin brother and I were on winter break, and drove her to the vet. We had no idea how sick she was, as no-one had noticed this thing growing on the roof of her mouth until all of a sudden it was there and huge. The vet said she had cancer, and would likely not survive any experimental treatment due to her age. He was also concerned she would be terrified to be separated from us during any long term hospital stay. He told us she was in a lot of pain, and he suggested we put her down. The vet called my mom who said to please do it right then, as she thought it would be too hard on the family to have her home for a night or two to say goodbye. Both my brother and I were very upset. He could not be with her while they euthanized her, said goodbye, and left the room. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving her to die alone, and I held her while they gave her a shot. She died in my arms, with me telling me how much I loved her. (Yeah, I'm crying remembering it). Honestly, the God Dog probably timed it right. I don't think she would have tolerated being separated from me when I went away to college, and I would have been that much more upset to think she died from heartbreak, with me so far away from her. At least this way I could be with her. She was almost 17 years old.
Growing up, or even after Bridgette had died, had someone done a survey and asked each member of my family to name one or more of us kids who would not have a dog in the next 20 years, I am sure my name would not have been mentioned by any of them. Everyone expected me to have a dog, including me. Alas, things don't always turn out as expected. I went to college, then Mexico, and then lived in apartments. In 2002 I rented a unit in a duplex and bought a cat. I loved her, and still do. We have been through a lot together, me and Isis, and she is a very good friend. In 2003 I bought a house, and expected the dog to come soon after. The house even came with a fenced-in back yard. It was missing a back door though, and I wasn't quite ready to be walking the dog around the house every time I needed to let her out. I was a new home owner and on the brink of a layoff. Yeah, that was a stressful time! Then came Joanne, my wife. She didn't want a dog, yet. But hey, she cut a hole in the back of the house, put a door in, and built a deck. Oh, from that time on I started the slow pressure to get a dog. Of course I did. We'd talk about breeds and suitable characteristics. I was making some progress, but not really close to results. I thought I'd have to wait for our daughter to get old enough to ask Joanne for a dog directly, and repeatedly, then we could gang up on her. Only a year to go, I hoped.
Then, one day, one of Joanne's employees told her he had an older puppy that he was going to bring to the pound if she didn't take her. She was a good dog, he said, he just didn't have room for her in his mobile home. She was mostly an outdoor dog, he said. I said YES, and Joanne said no, but I'll look at her. He was going to bring her by to work on the way to the pound. She said if she liked her, which she doubted, she would take her for a weekend trial. That Thursday she called and asked to meet me at a restaurant for dinner. This wasn't unusual, it's a little neighborhood place we like to go to once a month or so. Ah, well, no dog then, I thought. I pulled up, she got out of the van, said "stay" toward the door, I looked and.... A DAWG, a real DAWG. I went to say Hi to the dog through the window and she shrunk away from me. She wasn't too keen on me later, either, when I was outside at home, alone with her. She thought she was Joanne's dog. I told her she had to warm up to me, and she didn't realize it yet, but I would be giving her at least as much love and attention Joanne. I think her whole initial sole attachment to Jo worked in our favor though, cause she was very loving to Joanne every time she came into sight. There is nothing but that kind of love and devotion to facilitate attachment. We had her for the weekend and then on Sunday night Joanne and I talked. We talked about the problems, jumping on people, etc. and agreed that was all solvable with training. Joanne said she liked the dog, but wondered if we were ready for dog. Well, after 15 minutes of talk we finalized it, and the next morning announced to the pup that she was an official member of the family. So yeah, after almost 20 years, I am again a dog owner. Each of my other siblings, including one who never really liked dogs, has been a dog owner for y-e-a-r-s.
The dog's name is Maddie or Madeline. She came to us with the name Maggie, but we changed that. She is a medium sized dog. We don't know if she'll grow to be a big dog, or just a little bigger medium sized dog. Her paws don't look that big for her body now, but her head is kind of big. Her fur is golden, as are her eyes. She was born sometime in November of 2007. Her first evening in our home was Thursday May 1, 2008. She wants nothing more than to be around us and be loved. She is easily trainable I think, we just need formal training to assist with that (which we are working on). She has not had any shots or any medical care. We are working on that, too. She is trying to figure out who is at the bottom in the hierarchy of the family, her or Romie (yea, we're working on that, too). She's good with Romie, but wants to play, and push her over, and can be very jealous if Romie is getting love and attention and Maddie is not. She likes to be a lap dog. She is an indoor/outdoor dog. She is outside when we are gone and overnight, and mostly inside when we are home. She can apparently climb the fence, however, and Jo is working on making some adjustments outside to prohibit that. She is wary of strangers, but warms up quickly. She doesn't bark a lot unless someone she doesn't know is outside next door. She is not a great walking companion, but the gentle leader I bought is helping, and again, we are working on getting to dog training classes. Finally, I think she is happy to be part of the family, and we are happy to have her home.
Now, for some other news. Let's start with history. When I was two years old my family bought a dog. Some neighbors up the road had a new litter of puppies, and we picked the runt. She was a cute little black puppy. She was a mutt, but mostly a Coca poo. We loved her, a lot, and kept her very busy. That little dog went through so much with us. How could she not being in a family of 7 kids? She was my best friend growing up, available 24/7 to listen to my sorrows and my ramblings. By the time I was past the annoying little kid for a dog stage, she picked me as her favorite (I hope my sibs don't read this). She slept with me every night, and if my twin brother tried to take her for a night, she would cry and scratch at his door until he let her out and she found her way upstairs to my/her room. I remember walks and taking her on car rides. She would get so excited to run free, and would run circles around us in the yard or in the park, yapping happily. We even took her sledding with us. She would chase us down the hill barking and trying to bite our mittens. We think she was actually scared we were in danger and was trying to slow us down and protect us. Even when I was an older teen and very busy, I always made it a point to pet her and greet her each time I walked by her. She often slept right in the middle of my small bed, with me manoeuvring my body around her to not disturb her slumber. When I was way too old for an early bed time and she was getting old, she would sit by the door to my room and wait for me, crying to go to bed. The door was open, the bed available, but she wanted me in there with her. There were many times during those growing up years that I told her my sorrows, or cried into her fur. Somewhere I have a picture of her curled up on my bed. That's how I usually remember her, the skinny, wonderful little dog named Bridgette.
Around Christmas during my senior year of High School, Bridgette got a tumor in her mouth. My twin brother and I were on winter break, and drove her to the vet. We had no idea how sick she was, as no-one had noticed this thing growing on the roof of her mouth until all of a sudden it was there and huge. The vet said she had cancer, and would likely not survive any experimental treatment due to her age. He was also concerned she would be terrified to be separated from us during any long term hospital stay. He told us she was in a lot of pain, and he suggested we put her down. The vet called my mom who said to please do it right then, as she thought it would be too hard on the family to have her home for a night or two to say goodbye. Both my brother and I were very upset. He could not be with her while they euthanized her, said goodbye, and left the room. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving her to die alone, and I held her while they gave her a shot. She died in my arms, with me telling me how much I loved her. (Yeah, I'm crying remembering it). Honestly, the God Dog probably timed it right. I don't think she would have tolerated being separated from me when I went away to college, and I would have been that much more upset to think she died from heartbreak, with me so far away from her. At least this way I could be with her. She was almost 17 years old.
Growing up, or even after Bridgette had died, had someone done a survey and asked each member of my family to name one or more of us kids who would not have a dog in the next 20 years, I am sure my name would not have been mentioned by any of them. Everyone expected me to have a dog, including me. Alas, things don't always turn out as expected. I went to college, then Mexico, and then lived in apartments. In 2002 I rented a unit in a duplex and bought a cat. I loved her, and still do. We have been through a lot together, me and Isis, and she is a very good friend. In 2003 I bought a house, and expected the dog to come soon after. The house even came with a fenced-in back yard. It was missing a back door though, and I wasn't quite ready to be walking the dog around the house every time I needed to let her out. I was a new home owner and on the brink of a layoff. Yeah, that was a stressful time! Then came Joanne, my wife. She didn't want a dog, yet. But hey, she cut a hole in the back of the house, put a door in, and built a deck. Oh, from that time on I started the slow pressure to get a dog. Of course I did. We'd talk about breeds and suitable characteristics. I was making some progress, but not really close to results. I thought I'd have to wait for our daughter to get old enough to ask Joanne for a dog directly, and repeatedly, then we could gang up on her. Only a year to go, I hoped.
Then, one day, one of Joanne's employees told her he had an older puppy that he was going to bring to the pound if she didn't take her. She was a good dog, he said, he just didn't have room for her in his mobile home. She was mostly an outdoor dog, he said. I said YES, and Joanne said no, but I'll look at her. He was going to bring her by to work on the way to the pound. She said if she liked her, which she doubted, she would take her for a weekend trial. That Thursday she called and asked to meet me at a restaurant for dinner. This wasn't unusual, it's a little neighborhood place we like to go to once a month or so. Ah, well, no dog then, I thought. I pulled up, she got out of the van, said "stay" toward the door, I looked and.... A DAWG, a real DAWG. I went to say Hi to the dog through the window and she shrunk away from me. She wasn't too keen on me later, either, when I was outside at home, alone with her. She thought she was Joanne's dog. I told her she had to warm up to me, and she didn't realize it yet, but I would be giving her at least as much love and attention Joanne. I think her whole initial sole attachment to Jo worked in our favor though, cause she was very loving to Joanne every time she came into sight. There is nothing but that kind of love and devotion to facilitate attachment. We had her for the weekend and then on Sunday night Joanne and I talked. We talked about the problems, jumping on people, etc. and agreed that was all solvable with training. Joanne said she liked the dog, but wondered if we were ready for dog. Well, after 15 minutes of talk we finalized it, and the next morning announced to the pup that she was an official member of the family. So yeah, after almost 20 years, I am again a dog owner. Each of my other siblings, including one who never really liked dogs, has been a dog owner for y-e-a-r-s.
The dog's name is Maddie or Madeline. She came to us with the name Maggie, but we changed that. She is a medium sized dog. We don't know if she'll grow to be a big dog, or just a little bigger medium sized dog. Her paws don't look that big for her body now, but her head is kind of big. Her fur is golden, as are her eyes. She was born sometime in November of 2007. Her first evening in our home was Thursday May 1, 2008. She wants nothing more than to be around us and be loved. She is easily trainable I think, we just need formal training to assist with that (which we are working on). She has not had any shots or any medical care. We are working on that, too. She is trying to figure out who is at the bottom in the hierarchy of the family, her or Romie (yea, we're working on that, too). She's good with Romie, but wants to play, and push her over, and can be very jealous if Romie is getting love and attention and Maddie is not. She likes to be a lap dog. She is an indoor/outdoor dog. She is outside when we are gone and overnight, and mostly inside when we are home. She can apparently climb the fence, however, and Jo is working on making some adjustments outside to prohibit that. She is wary of strangers, but warms up quickly. She doesn't bark a lot unless someone she doesn't know is outside next door. She is not a great walking companion, but the gentle leader I bought is helping, and again, we are working on getting to dog training classes. Finally, I think she is happy to be part of the family, and we are happy to have her home.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
We've been lucky, I guess. In two years our little one has not been seriously ill. She's had a few fevers, and pink eye, and some falls, but nothing serious - until yesterday. She's had a fever the last few days. At times high it's been, and a few times really high. We almost brought her to the emergency room yesterday morning. Even in kids, I didn't know thermometer readings went that high. I won't tell you the reading, it still frightens me to remember it. But with children's Advil and a room temp bath it came down quickly, and we felt comfortable waiting untilour clinic opened a few hours later. Because both her parents really needed to work, we agreed that one of us at least would complete some work obligations. And, I brought her into an overbooked appointment in the middle of the morning.
Well, the fever was down when we got to the clinic, but she wasn't looking good. She was glued on me and didn't talk to anyone. She looked very sick. She was, of course, and she was also sleep deprived, which did not help anything. Her fever went up, and up, while we were there, even after they gave her Tylenol. The did lots of scary things to figure out what was wrong, and then said they wanted to hospitalize her to keep her from getting dehydrated, keep an eye on her, etc. Well, just before we left the clinic she was due for her next dose of Advil, which they gave her. And, by the time we got to the hospital, after stopping at home, the Advil had kicked in and she was doing better. They ended up not keeping her in the hospital and sent us home after several hours and parental tears shed (mine) out of stress and frustration.
She's still has a fever, but at the moment, seems more her normal self. She's watching cartoons 2 year-old style, which at least for her is very interactive. She's going through her toy box, talking, and seems more or less OK. We'll bring her back to the clinic today so they can look at her again, and give us more info on some of the other labs they did.
In the meantime, I have now had the experience of watching my child go through numerous back-to-back frightening medical procedures; some of them painful, some of them extremely restricting of her body, all of them uncomfortable. I don't know who is more traumatized by the experience, me or her. And, as a couple, her parents have solidified some of our differences regarding health care services, and we have clearly established that despite the vastness of these differences, our love and concern for our child are the same. And, we have created a plan for how to communicate more effectively the next time she is sick and we are not together. As for today, I am so thankful that our beautiful child is a little better. And I have way accepted the fact that my juggling of multiple out of state trips between yesterday and Sunday are not going to happen.
I have to end this post, my "sick" child wants me to read to her, and keeps bringing over books to read together, and animal toys to enjoy the reading experience with us.
Well, the fever was down when we got to the clinic, but she wasn't looking good. She was glued on me and didn't talk to anyone. She looked very sick. She was, of course, and she was also sleep deprived, which did not help anything. Her fever went up, and up, while we were there, even after they gave her Tylenol. The did lots of scary things to figure out what was wrong, and then said they wanted to hospitalize her to keep her from getting dehydrated, keep an eye on her, etc. Well, just before we left the clinic she was due for her next dose of Advil, which they gave her. And, by the time we got to the hospital, after stopping at home, the Advil had kicked in and she was doing better. They ended up not keeping her in the hospital and sent us home after several hours and parental tears shed (mine) out of stress and frustration.
She's still has a fever, but at the moment, seems more her normal self. She's watching cartoons 2 year-old style, which at least for her is very interactive. She's going through her toy box, talking, and seems more or less OK. We'll bring her back to the clinic today so they can look at her again, and give us more info on some of the other labs they did.
In the meantime, I have now had the experience of watching my child go through numerous back-to-back frightening medical procedures; some of them painful, some of them extremely restricting of her body, all of them uncomfortable. I don't know who is more traumatized by the experience, me or her. And, as a couple, her parents have solidified some of our differences regarding health care services, and we have clearly established that despite the vastness of these differences, our love and concern for our child are the same. And, we have created a plan for how to communicate more effectively the next time she is sick and we are not together. As for today, I am so thankful that our beautiful child is a little better. And I have way accepted the fact that my juggling of multiple out of state trips between yesterday and Sunday are not going to happen.
I have to end this post, my "sick" child wants me to read to her, and keeps bringing over books to read together, and animal toys to enjoy the reading experience with us.
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