Crossfit, Concertos and Acrobats

It's Monday morning and so far every single person I've met has asked me, "Did you do anything fun last weekend?"  Well, yes, I did. 

For one, I competed in the first round of the Crossfit Open, which is the qualifying competition for the Reebok Crossfit Games.  I obviously have zero pretention to actually being competitive enough to move on past the local level, but I decided I'd give it a try.  I've been doing Crossfit for a couple of years now, and all my friends and coaches at the gym had signed up and were encouraging me to give it a try. 

The competition was on Saturday morning; my round was at 9:50.  I had a taped lane with a pullup bar, a barbell, a bunch of weights and a judge.  My task:  In 9 minutes, complete as many rounds as possible of 15 toes-to-bar, 10 deadlifts (85lbs) and 5 snatches (85lbs).  After that, I'd have 6 minutes in which to achieve a 1-rep max doing a clean and jerk. 

I'm not going to lie:  I was super nervous.  I'm a neurotic perfectionist; I hate failing; I hate looking like an idiot; I hate being weak; I hate not being the best at what I do.  So to go into a competition where I knew I'd be doing really hard things in front of a judge and an audience was way outside my comfort zone.  And that's exactly why I did it.  Thanks to hard work, talent, blessings and, frankly, a lot of luck, I've spent most of my life doing things really well, succeeding with aplomb.  It's good sometimes to go outside the comfort zone and feel those nerves and sense of inadequacy and competition and desire to get better.

And, truth be told, I did fine.  And by "fine" I don't mean in terms of score (my score is here, but I don't know how to interpret it); instead, I mean that I completed the workout with integrity and roughly at the level that I expected to.  I was weaker than expected in the toes-to-bar (my grip was shot after the first couple rounds) but strong in the deadlifts and better than expected in the clean and jerk (I maxed at 125 lbs, which is a personal record).  So overall it was a positive experience, and now I'm looking forward to the next workout at the end of this week.

* * *

If the Crossfit Open was outside my comfort zone, my other weekend activities were squarely within:  On Saturday night, I went to a Seattle Symphony concert, where I saw them perform Mozart's Overture to the Marriage of Figaro and his Piano Concerto No. 22, and Beethoven's First Symphony.  All three pieces were nice and familiar, and I continue to be impressed at the quality of the symphony's sound.

On Friday I went with Justin and his family to see Cirque du Soleil's traveling show, Kurios.  Set up in a giant, multi-colored tent on the outskirts of town, it reminded me of Dumbo -- that opening sequence when the men are raising the tent, and then later when the enraged mother brings the whole place down around their ears.
 

Fortunately for us, there were no enraged elephant mothers protecting their children -- only fantastic acrobats and circus performers.  As with any Cirque show, the aesthetic was elaborate and the acrobatics wonderful.  I missed the large-scale spectacle of the permanent Las Vegas shows, but I also appreciated the authentic circus feel of seeing everything under a big-top tent on a more accessible human scale.

Justin and me in front of the tents.

The Ride: Seattle to Redmond, plus seals!

Okay, so it's already the middle of August and I've done basically zero cycling this summer.  I'd meant to ride more, but, you know, first it was cold, then I went to Japan, then I had to get a bike  tune-up and buy a house.  But all of that is done now (or at least in process), so I finally got out today for a good, long-distance ride.

I started from my place in Belltown to Ballard, where I picked up the Burke-Gilman Trail and rode it to the end.  From there I hopped on the Samammish River Trail and rode that to the end.  By then I was in the deep dark heart of SUBURBIA and on track to hit seventy miles by the time I got back home.  So I headed back home and spent the rest of the day telling my legs to stop freaking out.  After all, if I'm going to get in shape for the 92-mile "Ride Around the Sound" in mid-September, then they're going to have to get used to this.

The weather was perfect, the scenery gorgeous, and the seals totally adorable.

Those numbered pins are five-mile markers.

Airplane bodies in the rail yard - how can you tell we're not far from Boeing?

The troll bridge.  My future house is at the base of this bridge.

Ballard locks

Seals!

Weekend in Colorado

Following closely on the heels of my trip to Seattle, I flew out to Colorado for some meetings at the US Olympic Committee.  The USOC is based in Colorado Springs, which is only an hour south of Denver.  Naturally I took advantage of the adjacent weekend to explore the area and play with Amanda and some of her friends.  It was great to see her and enjoy the mountains in early spring.
 

Dawn over the plains
(it's all downhill from here to the Mississippi)

I spent most of Saturday with Amanda in Denver.  We drove around town so she could introduce me to all the cool neighborhoods, and we stopped for brunch/lunch at tiny restaurant called Bang!  We split a French toast and finished off with more sensible lunch fare. 

Orange and cinnamon French toast with fresh fruit

cobb salad

the sign speaks for itself

After visiting the neighborhoods, Amanda and I met up with her sister Rachel and a group of Amanda's friends for dinner and a movie.  We saw Monuments Men at the Alamo theater and then (per usual) talked for way too long outside in the freezing cole parking lot.  It was good to see Rachel again, and I enjoyed meeting Amanda's friends after hearing so much about them over the years -- it almost felt like I already knew them.  Needless to say, this was a group of smart, interesting women with whom I'd definitely want to hang out with more if I ever ended up in Denver on a longer-term basis (and even if I don't). 

On Sunday I was back in Colorado Springs for my flight home -- but the flight didn't leave until mid-afternoon, so I had time to explore Nature. 

Pikes Peak
I decided to drive to the top

Sadly, the road was closed due to snow at about 11,440 feet elevation.
Never made it all the way to the 14,000 foot summit.

Views from the turn-around point.

View of Colorado Springs from the foothills.

During my meetings with folks at the US Olympic Committee I asked them if there was anything I should do/see while I was in town.  Inevitably the response included something like this:

"The Incline.  You should definitely hike up the Incline.  Except, wait.  You're from the East Coast, so you'll probably die.  Maybe just drive around."

Of course this meant that the first thing I did after getting down from Pikes Peak was to climb the Incline at Manitou Springs.  Originally a gondola ran from the center of town at Manitou Springs to the top of a nearby hill.  Now, with the gondola gone, it's essentially an insane staircase of doom up which all the locals run/climb/stagger on sunny weekend mornings. 

The trail goes straight up the mountain,
climbing 2,000 vertical feet in 0.88 miles

I made it to the top in a respectable 40 minutes (the only person who passed me was
an insanely fit Air Force cadet).  It was definitely not the easiest thing I've ever done.
About 2/3rds of the way up I realized that if I lived in this town I would quickly be
in incredible shape.

The rest of the story:  My calves were in pain and agony for the next four days.

26 hours in El Paso

A few weeks ago my friend Amy told me that she and Kristin (our mutual friend who lives in El Paso, Texas) were planning a week-long backpacking trip to a place called Big Bend -- a national park along the border in western Texas.  They wanted to know if I was interested in joining them.

As tempting as the invitation was, I had just gotten back from a week's vacation in the chillier northern states, so I thought the timing wasn't quite right to take off again.  But then we learned that Kristin had commitments on Saturday night (choir concert) and Sunday morning (half marathon) that would prevent them from leaving for the wilderness until Sunday afternoon anyway -- so I thought, why not spend a weekend with Amy and Kristin in El Paso?

On Saturday morning I woke up at 4:00am to finish packing and get to the airport in time for the 7:00am flight to Texas.  Amy met me at the airport and we had fun catching up until the plane took off, at which point we both zonked out.

Thanks to the difference in time zones, we landed in El Paso a little after 11:00am -- just in time for lunch!  Naturally, both Amy and I were craving green chile, so Kristin took us to Avila's to get our fill.

Tampiquena
(beef, green chiles, onions, tomatoes, cheese enchilada, beans, guacamole)

After lunch, we ran errands so the girls could get supplies for their camping trip.  While they selected fuel canisters for the camp stove, I noticed the mini rifle-shaped BBQ lighters that were on sale in the same aisle.

Because pointing guns at flammable tanks of gas
 is the sort of behavior we should all be modeling
for our children.

After the errands, we went back to Kristin's house.  Amy and Kristin planned out their camping menus; I sat on the couch and read a book and tried to be friendly to Kristin's eager-to-please dog.

Then it was time to dress for the concert.  This was a performance of Carl Orff's Carmina Burana by the El Paso Symphony Orchestra, and Kristin (who is an excellent singer -- we sang together in law school) was in the chorus.  She, naturally, was all in black, but Amy and I could be more colorful.  Amy donned a fun summery dress that worked well in the early desert springtime, while I figured I'd introduce El Paso to the bow-tie.

I hadn't known whether bow ties were cool in Texas, so I cleared it with Kristin's husband, David, ahead of time (he said, "go for it, you'll be the only one!") and enjoyed the reactions.  My favorite was in the convention center, where we stopped to pick up our race packets on the way to the theater.  I walked up to the registration desk and the women were so impressed with how "dapper" I looked that they couldn't help but ask where I was from and what I do for a living and oh, since I'm an attorney, do I know Sam Blumenfeld?  They also told me that one of them had lived in DC for a while (at 18th and T, to be precise) and heavens, honey, you're gonna be SWIMMING in a medium t-shirt so here's a small.

The concert was about what you'd expect for a town like El Paso -- passable execution, with an appreciative and forgiving audience (read: clapping between movements and standing ovation at intermission and at the end).  Kristin's husband was there, and some of her family from nearby Las Cruces, all of whom I'd met at the wedding last spring, so it was fun to see them again.  And the theater was a real gem.  Apparently constructed in the 1920s as a movie house, the Plaza Theatre has been converted into a venue for the performing arts and lovingly restored to its Spanish Colonial Revival style glory glory.  I wish I had taken pictures (and the ones I found on the Internet don't do it justice), because it was really a charming and lovely theatre -- unlike any other theatre I've seen in the US.

After the concert Amy and I were exhausted (having awoken at 4am!) and so we went home and went to bed -- only to get up bright and early the next morning to run a race!

Kristin and I ran the half marathon, and Amy ran the 5K.

Kristin and me, before the race

Now, lest you start thinking this was a great idea, I should point out that I have not run more than a few hundred meters at a time since last March, when I ran the Cherry Blossom Ten Miler here in DC.  True, I've done plenty of cycling and cross fit and other training -- so I've got a decent fitness base -- but no running.

That fitness base got me through ten miles, no sweat.  I felt GREAT.  The air was cool but not cold, the sun bright and warm, and I maintained a comfortable 8:30 pace.  But then around the ten mile marker my hips and knees decided they were done with this game and it was time to go home.  So they gradually got tighter and tighter, and more and more painful -- by the end, I had dropped to a 12:00 mile and had to stop and stretch every so often just to keep my mobility!  It was ridiculous and a little discouraging when I saw all the people I'd passed running by.  Only then I reminded myself that I'd done zero training and so finishing was an accomplishment in and of itself.  Wahoo!

Amy, Kristin and me after the race

After the race, we went for brunch at a place that I've forgotten the name of.  Again, green chiles figured prominently in the menu -- and it was very tasty, especially the cinnamon-roll French toast.

Mint and cucumber agua fresca

Cinnamon-roll French toast.
Not at all what we'd expected, but totally delicious.

Scrambled eggs with turkey, green chiles, avocado and bacon.

By the time we'd finished brunch, returned to the house and showered, there was only about 45 minutes before I needed to head back to the airport.  We considered whether there was anything worth seeing during those 45 minutes but opted instead to relax on the back porch, soaking in the desert light and marveling at how different it felt from Virginia.  It's the sort of down-time that I hardly ever take for myself, but which is so wonderfully restorative, especially when shared with friends.

The view from Kristin's second-floor balcony.
(See the flowering tree?  It's springtime in El Paso!)

The home-bound flights all went smoothly.  I made my connection in Dallas and landed in DC around 11pm -- just in time to fall into bed before starting work again on Monday morning.  It was a super short trip, but we managed to pack a lot into just a few hours!  My kind of vacation… (in fact, at one point Amy was marveling at our ambitious itinerary and said, "I feel like I'm vacationing Jason-style" -- how right she was!).

Strong(ish) man

Happy MLK Day, folks.  Hooray for a day off another workday!

While other people celebrated civil rights and gorgeous January weather (think sunny and mid-fifties), I stayed at home and worked on projects for clients that don't observe the holiday. 

But I did manage to get out long enough for a noon-time workout.  It was deadlift day at Crossfit:  five sets of five repetitions, with the goal of increasing the weight for each set until you max out.  I set a new five-rep personal record with 200 pounds.  Holla!

Makes me think of something my trainer told me a few years ago when I first started lifting weights for real:  "It's easy to get strong," he said, "all you have to do is pick up heavy stuff off the ground."  Well, given that I currently weigh in at a whopping 135 pounds, I think 200 pounds counts as heavy.  Maybe someday I'll be strong!

The Ride: Bogus Basin

Boise claims to be a cycling town.  in the interest of getting in shape for the big ride at the end of the month, I decided to put it to the test. 

Last week I hunted around for a bike shop that would rent me a good road bike.  Idaho Mountain Touring was the only shop that responded to my inquiries, so I decided to go with them.  (This despite their illogical pricing:  Their original price quote was $50 for a day, $65 for overnight, with multi-day rates available on request.  I asked for a multi-day rate and was told that it would be $85 for each of the first two days, with $35 for each additional day.  I told them I'd stick with the overnight rate.)
 

I rented a car for this very purpose. Fortunately Heather had a compatible bike rack.

I asked the guys in the shop for some route recommendations.  One guy chuckled wickedly, "You like hills?"  I told him that I lived in the flatlands at sea-level, so of course I like hills.

 

Which is how I wound up riding to the Bogus Basin ski resort this morning.  Sixteen miles of nearly uninterrupted climbing, with almost 4,000 vertical feet between the starting point and the summit.  Seemed like an exciting little challenge when I kitted up this morning; an hour later, when I'd been riding uphill for ten straight miles in the cold, pouring rain and wind, it seemed like the worst idea in the history of creation. 

 

The valley floor is a little over 2,000 feet;
the summit is a little over 6,000 feet. This sign meant I was almost there!

By the time I got to the ski resort at the top of the mountain, I was wet and shivering and my butt wanted to die.  The resort was as cold and uninviting as what I always imagined Wuthering Heights would be like.  Only without Laurence Olivier to heat things up.

 

 

Since it seemed a shame to start the descent without taking in the allegedly beautiful views, I risked flat tires by cruising around the gravel parking lots and tracks of the ski resort.  I found one promising view and took a picture of myself.  When I looked at the photo, I was startled to see a rainbow.  At the very moment I took the photo, the sun had burst through the clouds, creating that hopeful band of color.

 

 

 

The sun came out and dried up all the rain, and the itsy bitsy spider sped back down the mountainside, riding the brakes to avoid sliding into the ditch and stopping frequently to soak up the newly gorgeous views.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here are the stats for the ride.  One stat that doesn't show up here is the average speed for each five-mile segment.  On the ascent I averaged between 8 and 10 miles per hour; on the descent I averaged 28 miles per hour.  The overall average speed of 10.5 miles per hour reflects all the photo-stops I made without pausing the clock.

 

The full stats for the ride are available through the Garmin link in the lower right-hand column.

 

 

Conversation at the gym

Okay, so.

Picture me.  Not huge.  You might even call me "slight of build."

Now picture a guy -- let's call him Jim -- who's probably 6'2" and around 275 lbs.  He's a big guy (a nice guy, too) and strong.  Not particularly toned, but not fat either.  Kind of what you would imagine a college or high school football player might look like by the time he's 37 year's old.

Now, finally, picture Jim and me being paired together as partners for a Crossfit workout that involves (i) running 400 meters carrying a 45-pound plate, (ii) doing 10 handstand pushups, and (iii) doing 20 pullups, all in that order, as many times as we can in 20 minutes.  We have to do the run together but can divvy the rest of the stuff up however we want between us.

Afterwards, this conversation:

Jim: Did you watch The West Wing?

Me: No.

Jim: Okay, well, in one of the last seasons there's a scene where Allison Janney (who's like, 6 feet tall) and Kristen Chenoweth (who's not even 5 feet tall) are walking down the hall together, and Allison Janney looks down at Kristen Chenoweth and says, "I can't believe we're the same species." That's all I could think about while watching you carry that 45-pound plate right now.  I mean your legs are all . . . [he gestures; I assume the word he's looking for is "twig-like"] and you have this skinny waist. And then there's me and I'm all, "HOW ARE WE EVEN THE SAME SPECIES?"

*     *     *

To which I had no good answer, because I've basically been wondering the same thing since I was twelve.  Not that I've ever wanted to be one of those huge, muscular men (though I wouldn't have been opposed to a more naturally athletic build) -- mostly I've just wondered what it would be like to go through life in such an enormous body.  I mean, it's got to be a different experience from what I have in my skinny body, right?  So strange!  It had never occurred to me that the big guys might look at me and be equally baffled.

Nor did I expect my morning workout to solve the problem of what to watch now that all my TV shows are on summer hiatus.  Double win!
 

It's all fun and games until you start ripping the flesh off your body

At Crossfit this morning we got hit with the benchmark workout known as "Helen," which consists of three rounds, for time, of a 400 meter run, 21 kettlebell swings with a 24-kilo kettlebell, and 12 pullups. 

Normally Crossfit workouts aren't repeated, but Helen is one of the benchmark workouts that gets trotted out periodically so that we can measure our progress.  The last time we did Helen was in February.  I don't remember my time, but I know I had to scale down weight on the kettlebell swings and use a giant rubber band to get through the pullups.  The run, of course, was the easy part. 

Today my goal was to get through Helen as prescribed (or "RX" in Crossfit lingo) -- and I did it!  With a time of 14:48, I was not the fastest in the class (though not the slowest, either), and I made it through all three rounds with the full 24-kilo kettlebell and the pullups without any assistance.  As I suffered through the last round of pullups I totally wanted to die (and feared I might puke), but everyone who had already finished stood around cheering me on -- which was really great and one of the reasons I love Crossfit. 

BUT . . .

. . . all those pullups kind of destroyed my hands. 

Both hands look like this. 
And yes, I've essentially ripped off all the surface skin at the base of my ring finger,
it's just hanging on by a bit of flesh at the top of the flap.

Obviously showering, etc., was way more difficult and painful than normal.  Fortunately, I still have plenty of gauze and tape and disinfectant/anesthetic cream from my last hand fiasco, so once I'd cleaned myself up I just bandaged everything and went to work looking like I'd been attacked by a drunken Florence Nightingale.

Two-handed photo courtesy of Barbara, who sits across the hall from me

Needless to say, I think it's time to find some of those straps that I've seen other guys wear to protect their hands.  Add that to this weekend's shopping list!

The Ride: Impromptu Century

So this happened today:

For full stats, you can click on the link in the "Garmin Connect" widget in the lower right-hand column of this blog.

How, you ask?  Simple:  I got on a bike at 6:30am and didn't get off again until 1:30pm.  (Okay, okay, so I did get off a couple of times in between -- as you can see from the chart, I was actually riding for only 5 hours and 48 minutes; that lost hour-and-twelve-minutes was devoted to pit stops and snacks.)

Why, you ask?  Ummm, because that's what happens when you hang out with people who are training for Ironman triathlons.  Consider yourself warned.  Here's how it all went down:

[Wednesday afternoon.  At work.]

Chris:  I'm going on an 85-mile training ride on Saturday.  Want to come? 

Me:  Sure!

[That night it occured to me that I'd only ridden my bike, like, three times this entire spring, and none of those rides had been longer than 35 miles.]

Me:  So, um, how long do you think it'll take to ride 85 miles?  [Code for how fast are you going to ride, and am I going to die?]

Chris:  I dunno, probably 5 hours or so.  Just a comfortable, rolling pace.

[Comfortable? No way was 85 miles going to be comfortable. And for FIVE HOURS? How were we not going to starve to death? My usual approach of munching on a few snacks by the lake with the water lilies (or, in extremis, stopping at a McDonald's) surely wasn't going to mesh with the triathlon training regime. So I did a little research and found an entire book devoted to how not to die (including by starvation) while riding a bike. I read that book.]

Chris:  [Last night] Update on the ride: A couple of my friends from the DC Tri Club are going to join us on the ride, so let's all meet at 7:00 am at the intersection of M Street and Key Bridge.

[Oh no! Other people!]

Me:  Great!  I'll be there.  P.S. I feel a little intimidated.

Chris:  I think you'll be fine, though fair warning the two people riding are fast and somewhat competitive (though really nice). Also, it looks like it'll be raining.  Will be fun but a bit hard.

[Crap. Eighty-five miles with nice, competitive people in the rain. I didn't even know what color lenses I was supposed to wear in the rain! (Turns out Google had the answer to that question.)]

Chris:  [The next morning -- 7am at the rendez-vous point] Ready for this?

Me:  Sure! I'm not so worried about the distance [a complete lie] but I am a little nervous about riding that distance with folks I don't know [God's honest truth], so I'm making no promises! If I can't keep up, I'll just call it a day and pack it in. [pause] Or . . . .

Chris:  Or you'll just force yourself to keep up anyway, knowing that you're completely Type A and competitive and willing to spend the rest of the day recovering on your couch.

Me:  Um, yeah, pretty much. [Gosh, was it that obvious?]

Two seconds later, Erin and Brody pulled up on two of the most tricked out tri bikes I'd ever seen, looking for all the world like the intense, competitive triathletes they were reputed to be.  Hellos all around, and then we were off! 

Many hours -- and many miles -- later, I dismounted back at my apartment, totally happy; totally encrusted in dried sweat and sticky gnats.

Don't be fooled by my general hotness --
at this point I was completely disgusting and NOT sweet-smelling

Not only had I survived, but I'd had a blast. The others were clearly all very strong riders, but so, apparently, was I (surprise!).  I had no problem matching the pace they set -- it was challenging, but in the exhilarating "I can totally do this if I push myself" way.  It was fun to ride with the group and feel motivated by the others' energy.  It was fun to feel my body healthy and strong and working like a machine.  And it was fun to see those miles tick by.

Speaking of miles, how did the original 85 miles turn into 100 miles?  That's a no-brainer.  By the time we'd gotten back to the initial rendez-vous point, I'd done the 85 miles, plus the additional 5 miles that I'd ridden to get from my apartment to the bridge in the first place.  I thought to myself, "90 miles? Sounds weak. Better top it off and get the full 100."  So I did.

Not without regret, though.  Those last 10 miles were as hard to get as the first 60 had been.  After the bridge my companions had all gone their separate ways, and I discovered what an enormous difference it makes to ride in a group instead of alone.  All that moral support, friendly competition, and chitchat were gone -- my thighs, calves and butt had my undivided attention for the first time in six hours, and they were NOT happy.

But it's not like I could just give up, right? I mean, seriously, what descendent of Mormon pioneers gives up at the end of a hundred-mile bike ride just because his legs are tired?  There weren't even any freezing rivers to cross! So I pressed on and reminded myself that all this suffering would simply add to the bragging rights (and the inevitable blog post; suddenly all those pioneer diaries made more sense -- THEY WERE BLOGS!)

 

Besides, having read up not only on what to eat before and during a long ride, but also on what to eat after a long ride, I knew that my screaming legs would be getting all the tender loving care they needed before too long.  And by "tender loving care" I mean "carbohydrates and protein." 

For carbohydrates, I opted for banana waffles with 100% pure maple syrup . . .


which I ate standing up because, well . . . BECAUSE I'D JUST SPENT SIX HOURS SITTING ON A TINY TRIANGLE
OF METAL AND VINYL AND THE ANATOMY NEEDED A BREAK FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!

and for protein, I busted out my trusty keg of trainer-approved protein powder and made a nice cold chocolate protein shake . . .

which I drank lying in fetal position on the floor of my shower until the
crystallized sweat and gnats started to melt and run into my eyeballs and I had to
wash my face to avoid going blind and catching malaria.

 

Needless to say, the rest of the day will be pretty low-key.  My legs have been loving the couch as I sit here and write this blog post.  In a few minutes, after I hit "publish", I'll probably run to Home Depot and pick up some gardening supplies (I bought flowers yesterday! too many to fit into my pots!) and see if I can find a pet store with pond-friendly goldfish (time to replace the Elijah-fish!).  Then it's off to the movie theatre, where I'll meet up with Amy and see Ironman 3 in 3D.  Because flashy Hollywood action-figure entertainment is exactly what I want right now.

 

Give me a couple weeks, though, and I may just get the itch to do this all again.  Apparently Chris and company are planning to ride Skyline Drive in the Shenandoah National Park . . . . Stay tuned!

Who in their right mind signs up for this on purpose?

Today's workout:

Yes, it was every bit as horrible as you might expect.  Well, as horrible as you might expect if you had the non-existent fore-arm strength that I do.  If you looked like someone -- anyone -- drawn by Arnold Friberg, then you wouldn't have anything to worry about.

And if you weren't sure what to expect because of all those weird terms, here's a mini glossary:

• Double-unders = Jumping rope, where the rope goes under twice for every jump
• WOD = workout of the day
• AMRAP = as many reps and rounds as possible within the specified time
• Handstand pushups = do a vertical pushup while in handstand position
• Hang clean = pulling a barbell with weights from approximately knee-height to your shoulders
• Burpees = those things where you go from a pushup to a standing jump to a pushup, over and over and over again
• Kettlebell swing = swing a kettlebell from between your legs up over your head

What a way to start the day!

Cherry Blossom Ten Miler

My alarm went off this morning at 5:00am.  A few minutes later I was eating a bowl of oatmeal and checking the weather report.  I warmed up and stretched and pulled on my running gear (and then pulled it off, and back on, going through every possible permutation of shorts/tights/shirt/jacket/gloves before finally coming back to the outfit I'd originally planned last night).  By 7:20am I was standing in the pre-dawn chill on the National Mall with 17,500 other runners waiting for the Credit Union Cherry Blossom Ten Mile Run to start.

As the horn blew and we shuffled toward the starting gate, I thought, "Holy cow, what am I doing?  Can I even run ten miles?"

Good question.  You see, in October 2011 I injured my knee while training for a marathon -- and I haven't run since.  I replaced running with cycling, and supplemented cycling with weightlifting, yoga and, last fall, CrossFit.  But I haven't run for more than two years.

So it was kind of a gamble when I signed up for the Cherry Blossom Ten Miler.  A last-minute one, too.  The Cherry Blossom is enormously popular, and entrance is determined each fall by lottery.  I always wanted to run the race, but I never won the lottery during my running days, and then I thought I'd sworn off running and stopped trying.  But then my friend Katie moved to Seattle and offered to me her bib.

That was a month ago, and I figured four weeks gave me plenty of time to get myself back in shape for a road race.  So I bought the bib -- and then did nothing to prepare.  Seriously, nothing.  Because the month of March was essentially the Arctic Springtime of Doom, and all I wanted to do was curl up in front of the television while eternal winter raged outside. 

Then all of a sudden I started getting emails from the race organizers with messages like "Come pick up your race stuff!" and "See you on Sunday!"  Sunday -- as in four days from whenever I was reading that message.  So I picked up my packet and resolved to start training for real this time (as if whatever last-minute cramming I did could actually be called "training").

Only I didn't even do that!  Instead, I went to CrossFit on Friday and did 300 double-unders (which is where you jump-rope with the rope going under twice for each jump) -- which left my calves completely shot.  Whatever "training" aspirations I had flew out the window as I hobbled around in pain and agony.  I was more focused on making it from my desk to the printer than on running some ten-miler by the river.

So you can see why I felt a little trepidation as I lined up for the race to start. 

The good news is that everything went just fine.  I scaled back my expectations for speed and grouped myself with the folks who would be running an 8:30 mile.  I turned on my headphones, found a pace that felt sustainable, tuned everything out, and just ran.  At the 5-mile mark, my knee started acting up, so I pulled out a supporting strap and told myself that if it got any worse, I'd quit the race and go home.  The strap helped, and by mile 7 both knees felt perfectly fine.  In fact, I felt awesome and finished strong.

Just over the finish line

I came in just under an hour-and-a-half (which is what I'd expected), with an average pace of 8:36 (also what I'd expected).   I placed 691st in my age division, and 3201st among men -- which doesn't sound great (and certainly isn't remarkable from any competitive standard), but in the context of 17,500 participants, I clearly could have done a lot worse.   For my maiden run after injury and inactivity, I'm happy with these results.   Who knows, maybe I can be a runner again after all!