I've told so many people that I'm planning on running San Francisco's half marathon next year that I can't back out of it. Sure, I have almost a year to prepare, but I'm wondering if I'm in over my head. 13 miles is a long way to run. How am I, someone who has never been a runner before and who gets winded running across the street, going to keep my feet moving one in front of the other for 13 miles.
I started getting a little scared yesterday when I was on the San Francisco Marathon website. I was reading about the course (which actually seems really awesome to run across the Golden Gate Bridge and through Golden Gate Park), how many first-time marathoners there are, and how last year about 17,000 people ran the race.
The part that got me nervous was the time limit. If I run the first half of the marathon, I need to be able to finish in three hours; if I run the second, three and a half hours. I didn't even think about a time limit and what would happen if I couldn't finish in the time allotted. I just thought I would run until I finished. But, with a three hour limit, I need to run each mile in about 13 minutes. Yes, it's not impossible and many people can do it, I just question if I'm one of those people.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
New Orleans Nervousness
I'm going to New Orleans for several days in November to visit Sara. I'm excited. I've never been before and hear it's amazing. But, I'm also nervous. As I was chatting with Scott (who will be going to New Orleans for a Halloween wedding) last night, I realized that I might be overcome by the urge to eat and drink everything in sight and just have several days of decadence--stuffing my face with po' boys, beignets, jambalaya, gumbo, fried oysters! I'm salivating already.
There's no way I'm going to New Orleans and not going to have a good time, and eating and drinking is just part of the fun. What it means though is that I need to work out extra hard from now until then.
There's no way I'm going to New Orleans and not going to have a good time, and eating and drinking is just part of the fun. What it means though is that I need to work out extra hard from now until then.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Hike
Kristin is an avid hiker and she has invited me to join her on numerous occassions. But, for whatever reason, I'm never available when she wants to go. So, this time, I asked her to join me on a hike, even though she chose our location and drove us there.
I've gone hiking before plenty of times but want to do it more often. Not only is it a good way to get in some exercise but it's also nice to be outdoors and appreciate all the nature-y goodness the Bay Area has to offer. Plus, I can do it with other people and not be embarassed, as I am when I run.
Packing my lunch (peanut butter and jelly on whole wheat bread, carrot sticks, an apple, and two Larabars) and water was easy. Getting dressed was more difficult. What would be appropriate for a hike? Kristin advised that I should dress in layers. I could do that. I pulled out some t-shirts, some long-sleeved shirts, and a hoodie. I tried on multiple shirts before I found the right combination of short-sleeved and long-sleeved ones that would look okay with my hoodies, jeans, and gleaming white running shoes (the only pair of athletic footwear that I have).
Kristin was very patient and understanding when we decided on where we would go. How long did I want to hike for? Did I want something easy or hard? She didn't want to wear my out and scare me on our fist hike together. We decided we would go to Mt. Tamalpais and do a two to three hour loop. Off we went.
We got to Mt. Tam, parked the car, and started in to the park. It was foggy--at some points we couldn't see what was ahead of us--but nice. The greens of the trees and bushes were vibrant. And, even after a little bit of rain the night before, the trails weren't muddy. Kristin, once again, said that we could take a different route if we wanted; meaning if I got tired and wanted something easier we could do that. It was great to have someone looking out for me. But, I wanted to keep going. I wanted the longer route. I told her I didn't want the mountain to defeat me and was looking for something challenging enough to be fun but that wouldn't kill me. So, we kept going.
We took a wrong turn at one point and had to back track. I had to cross a precarious looking ledge and Kristin was patient with my unease. Some parts were so long and steep that I had to take a break in between. I could hear my breath growing more and more labored and could feel the sweat dripping down my face and pooling up under my arms, on my back, and in between my breasts (I should have worn my sports bra). But, with a little rest and some water, I was ready to go again.
We kept going and going, and finally we were reaching the end--only 1.2 miles left to the parking lot. The final stretch of the hike was all slightly downhill, which was nice. After climbing up for so long and my thighs starting to ache, an easy downhill walk felt so good. My legs were happy. With the parking lot in clear view, I felt accomplished and satisfied and tired, but in a good way. I don't know how far we hiked but we were walking for about four hours at a fairly fast pace. I asked Kristin how this hike compared to the ones she usually goes on, and she said that it was on the more difficult side and that she wouldn't take novices on it. Yes! I am becoming a hiker too!
I've gone hiking before plenty of times but want to do it more often. Not only is it a good way to get in some exercise but it's also nice to be outdoors and appreciate all the nature-y goodness the Bay Area has to offer. Plus, I can do it with other people and not be embarassed, as I am when I run.
Packing my lunch (peanut butter and jelly on whole wheat bread, carrot sticks, an apple, and two Larabars) and water was easy. Getting dressed was more difficult. What would be appropriate for a hike? Kristin advised that I should dress in layers. I could do that. I pulled out some t-shirts, some long-sleeved shirts, and a hoodie. I tried on multiple shirts before I found the right combination of short-sleeved and long-sleeved ones that would look okay with my hoodies, jeans, and gleaming white running shoes (the only pair of athletic footwear that I have).
Kristin was very patient and understanding when we decided on where we would go. How long did I want to hike for? Did I want something easy or hard? She didn't want to wear my out and scare me on our fist hike together. We decided we would go to Mt. Tamalpais and do a two to three hour loop. Off we went.
We got to Mt. Tam, parked the car, and started in to the park. It was foggy--at some points we couldn't see what was ahead of us--but nice. The greens of the trees and bushes were vibrant. And, even after a little bit of rain the night before, the trails weren't muddy. Kristin, once again, said that we could take a different route if we wanted; meaning if I got tired and wanted something easier we could do that. It was great to have someone looking out for me. But, I wanted to keep going. I wanted the longer route. I told her I didn't want the mountain to defeat me and was looking for something challenging enough to be fun but that wouldn't kill me. So, we kept going.
We took a wrong turn at one point and had to back track. I had to cross a precarious looking ledge and Kristin was patient with my unease. Some parts were so long and steep that I had to take a break in between. I could hear my breath growing more and more labored and could feel the sweat dripping down my face and pooling up under my arms, on my back, and in between my breasts (I should have worn my sports bra). But, with a little rest and some water, I was ready to go again.
We kept going and going, and finally we were reaching the end--only 1.2 miles left to the parking lot. The final stretch of the hike was all slightly downhill, which was nice. After climbing up for so long and my thighs starting to ache, an easy downhill walk felt so good. My legs were happy. With the parking lot in clear view, I felt accomplished and satisfied and tired, but in a good way. I don't know how far we hiked but we were walking for about four hours at a fairly fast pace. I asked Kristin how this hike compared to the ones she usually goes on, and she said that it was on the more difficult side and that she wouldn't take novices on it. Yes! I am becoming a hiker too!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Morning Routine
I've been running along the same route at about the same time several days a week for the past few weeks. Today, I realized how I am not the only person in my neighborhood who does the same thing at the same time over and over again early in the morning.
As I ran along my neighborhood, I saw the Asian man and his teen aged son waiting on the street in front of the housing complex again. I don't know who or what they're waiting for or how long they wait. Today, though, was different. It looked like the man and his son were talking to each other on their cellphones. They were standing about ten feet apart from each other, both with their cellphones to their ears, and both smiling and chatting. They weren't speaking in English but some Asian language I didn't know. Maybe they weren't speaking to each other. But, I couldn't figure out who else would they speaking to at 6:20 in the morning.
As I jogged a little further, I caught up with the woman who wears way too much perfume. I catch up with her at the same street corner each time. She's probably on her way to work. When I approach, I can smell her. She smells like those lotions you buy at the Bath and Body Works at the mall--the ones that smell like country apple or peach or who knows what. It, and she, smells too sickly sweet, and it makes me want to vomit. I don't vomit though. Instead, I jog by a little more quickly.
My favorite part of my morning jog though is when I'm on my way back home and walk past the assisted living center for seniors. The lobby is always well lit and there's always activity. Through the windows, I can see the television turned on to the morning news. And, in front of the television are some of the residents, sitting in the wheelchairs, nodding off.
As I ran along my neighborhood, I saw the Asian man and his teen aged son waiting on the street in front of the housing complex again. I don't know who or what they're waiting for or how long they wait. Today, though, was different. It looked like the man and his son were talking to each other on their cellphones. They were standing about ten feet apart from each other, both with their cellphones to their ears, and both smiling and chatting. They weren't speaking in English but some Asian language I didn't know. Maybe they weren't speaking to each other. But, I couldn't figure out who else would they speaking to at 6:20 in the morning.
As I jogged a little further, I caught up with the woman who wears way too much perfume. I catch up with her at the same street corner each time. She's probably on her way to work. When I approach, I can smell her. She smells like those lotions you buy at the Bath and Body Works at the mall--the ones that smell like country apple or peach or who knows what. It, and she, smells too sickly sweet, and it makes me want to vomit. I don't vomit though. Instead, I jog by a little more quickly.
My favorite part of my morning jog though is when I'm on my way back home and walk past the assisted living center for seniors. The lobby is always well lit and there's always activity. Through the windows, I can see the television turned on to the morning news. And, in front of the television are some of the residents, sitting in the wheelchairs, nodding off.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Training Tips
As a college counselor, I talk to countless high school students. Mostly, we chat about their educational goals, where they would like to go to school, and what they have to do to get there. Sometimes, we veer off topic. We'll chat about movies, music, books, Barack Obama, burritos.
Today, a student came in to my office, sat in the chair for students at the edge of my desk, and just started chatting with me. I helped him sign up for his SAT just a few days ago, and I thought he wanted to ask me more questions about the test, but he didn't. Instead, we talked about track. He saw the pennant of Fresno State University pinned to my office wall and said that's where he wants to go because they have a great track team. In 2012, he wants to be in London, competing in the Olympics.
After chatting about Usain Bolt, his mom being a track star in the Philippines, and how he's one of the fastest sprinters at school, he asked me what I did, as in what I do to workout. This was the first time anyone asked me what I do to workout, and I was a little surprised. "I run," I said. And, when I said it, it felt good and true. I do run. I am a runner.
I told him that I'm not a sprinter though, and that I want to run the half marathon next August. He looked at me as if I was crazy. He said he could never run that far, and that his body was built to be fast. Since I had him, someone with Olympic aspirations and the possible skill to get there, in my office, I asked him about his training routine and how I could build stronger leg muscles, hoping that I could incorporate some of his exercises into my workout routine.
Soon, he was standing up in the middle of my office demonstrating lunges, kicks, squats, and proper arm swing. He derided all the people who believe that running is a sport just for your legs and stressed the importance of a strong core and arm muscles (I agreed with him and tried showing off my knowledge by saying how I've started doing yoga and do free weights). He also told me that I should eat bananas because of their potassium and that I should drink plenty of water (he started to sound like my mom).
Today, a student came in to my office, sat in the chair for students at the edge of my desk, and just started chatting with me. I helped him sign up for his SAT just a few days ago, and I thought he wanted to ask me more questions about the test, but he didn't. Instead, we talked about track. He saw the pennant of Fresno State University pinned to my office wall and said that's where he wants to go because they have a great track team. In 2012, he wants to be in London, competing in the Olympics.
After chatting about Usain Bolt, his mom being a track star in the Philippines, and how he's one of the fastest sprinters at school, he asked me what I did, as in what I do to workout. This was the first time anyone asked me what I do to workout, and I was a little surprised. "I run," I said. And, when I said it, it felt good and true. I do run. I am a runner.
I told him that I'm not a sprinter though, and that I want to run the half marathon next August. He looked at me as if I was crazy. He said he could never run that far, and that his body was built to be fast. Since I had him, someone with Olympic aspirations and the possible skill to get there, in my office, I asked him about his training routine and how I could build stronger leg muscles, hoping that I could incorporate some of his exercises into my workout routine.
Soon, he was standing up in the middle of my office demonstrating lunges, kicks, squats, and proper arm swing. He derided all the people who believe that running is a sport just for your legs and stressed the importance of a strong core and arm muscles (I agreed with him and tried showing off my knowledge by saying how I've started doing yoga and do free weights). He also told me that I should eat bananas because of their potassium and that I should drink plenty of water (he started to sound like my mom).
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Weighing In
I bought a bathroom scale a few months ago. I used to hate being weighed. As a chubby adolescent, I was forced to step on my family's bathroom scale in our living room with all my family watching how far the scale tipped. My mom would be surprised that a twelve year old weighed that much (apparently, the fact that I was just a touch shy of six feet tall didn't matter) and would tell me that I needed to diet.
Now, having grown out of the pained adolescent stage, I am no longer on the verge of tears when I step on my bathroom scale. I bought it to see how more fit and less fat I was becoming. I had an idea of what I weighed and where I wanted to be in terms of pounds, but didn't have any real way of measuring it. At first, I was nervous that weighing myself would feel like punishment, that I would feel guilty and embarassed at how much I weighed. But as I've seen improvements, stepping on that scale motivates me and makes me feel accountable to something, even if it is an inch-think square of metal with a digital display.
I've gotten into the habit of weighing myself almost every day and always right after I shower and dry my hair in the mornings (I think wet hair will throw off the reading). I don't think I'm obsessing about my weight, rather, that I want to make sure I'm sticking to my goals and need a way to measure that objectively. Sure, I can see that my pants are hanging a little lower and that I'm starting to notice a tiny bicep form, but that scale gives me a number, something that I can log and remember and compare. And, I understand that even though that number may change from one day to the next, it's not necessarily because I've gotten fatter by three pounds over the course of one day but that weight fluctuates from hour to hour, based on how much I've eaten, when I ate, how much water I've drank, and number of other factors.
This morning when I got on that scale, it read 163.8, the lowest it's been since I started weighing myself. I'm getting closer to reaching my Body Mass Index goal of 21 (for someone my height of 5'11" the matching weight is 150 pounds). But, I'm still a long way away from my half-marathon goal. I'm getting there though, slowly but surely.
Now, having grown out of the pained adolescent stage, I am no longer on the verge of tears when I step on my bathroom scale. I bought it to see how more fit and less fat I was becoming. I had an idea of what I weighed and where I wanted to be in terms of pounds, but didn't have any real way of measuring it. At first, I was nervous that weighing myself would feel like punishment, that I would feel guilty and embarassed at how much I weighed. But as I've seen improvements, stepping on that scale motivates me and makes me feel accountable to something, even if it is an inch-think square of metal with a digital display.
I've gotten into the habit of weighing myself almost every day and always right after I shower and dry my hair in the mornings (I think wet hair will throw off the reading). I don't think I'm obsessing about my weight, rather, that I want to make sure I'm sticking to my goals and need a way to measure that objectively. Sure, I can see that my pants are hanging a little lower and that I'm starting to notice a tiny bicep form, but that scale gives me a number, something that I can log and remember and compare. And, I understand that even though that number may change from one day to the next, it's not necessarily because I've gotten fatter by three pounds over the course of one day but that weight fluctuates from hour to hour, based on how much I've eaten, when I ate, how much water I've drank, and number of other factors.
This morning when I got on that scale, it read 163.8, the lowest it's been since I started weighing myself. I'm getting closer to reaching my Body Mass Index goal of 21 (for someone my height of 5'11" the matching weight is 150 pounds). But, I'm still a long way away from my half-marathon goal. I'm getting there though, slowly but surely.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Up and Running, Again
After three weeks of not running, I started up again last week and it felt good. Sure, I still can't run half a mile without needing a break (I have a long, long way to go before I reach half-marathon potential) but I'm seeing improvements.
This morning, I took a different running route. For the last several months, I've been running up to and around the Panhandle. But, as the sun is rising later and later, it's been getting darker and darker when I wake up a little before 6am to go exercise. This morning, rather than run around the poorly lit and wet Panhandle, I headed north toward Japantown, along the route I took when I first started running in January (I wasn't so good at sticking to my new year's resolution then but am much more motivated about it now).
I remember being able only to run a block and a half before getting winded and feeling like throwing up. Now, I can easily run that block and half, and went on passed it. And, the only reason why I felt like retching this morning was at the stench of rotten garbage. I did my old loop once and went around to do another half loop. As I walked up the little hill back to my house, I decided that, as fall approaches, I'll give up my Panhandle run for this Japantown one and that I must remember to write my name and contact info in my shoes, in case something happens to me as I run in the dark mornings through Western Addition.
This morning, I took a different running route. For the last several months, I've been running up to and around the Panhandle. But, as the sun is rising later and later, it's been getting darker and darker when I wake up a little before 6am to go exercise. This morning, rather than run around the poorly lit and wet Panhandle, I headed north toward Japantown, along the route I took when I first started running in January (I wasn't so good at sticking to my new year's resolution then but am much more motivated about it now).
I remember being able only to run a block and a half before getting winded and feeling like throwing up. Now, I can easily run that block and half, and went on passed it. And, the only reason why I felt like retching this morning was at the stench of rotten garbage. I did my old loop once and went around to do another half loop. As I walked up the little hill back to my house, I decided that, as fall approaches, I'll give up my Panhandle run for this Japantown one and that I must remember to write my name and contact info in my shoes, in case something happens to me as I run in the dark mornings through Western Addition.
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