Race Week

Kind of. I'm feeling pretty good about hitting my modest Beach to Beacon goal (sub 53). My back is a bit better, and I ran both days on the weekend. I've also been very consistent with my gym workouts, and my twice per day hamstring and hip stretching. Unfortunately, I've also been consistent with my intake, so my weight is unchanged.

I enjoyed watching the Urban EPIC Triathlon over the weekend. Triathletes look great and are super fit (especially those at the front of the pack). They have upper body definition that you don't typically see in runners. And they seemed to be having fun. That is, until I positioned myself at the top of Walnut Street and watched them tackle a brutal hill on the tail end of their bike leg. I was a bit puzzled though: the beer garden (good beer, too) at the finish was completely empty. These folks had just worked really hard for 3 hours or so, why weren't they drinking beer? With my foolish "no beer before 5 PM rule", I didn't drink either. The poor bartenders looked so lonely. There was a great band playing, too, and it was largely ignored. The athletes seemed to eating gu and gel and looking at the latest bike parts. There are aspects of the sport I just don't get. My friend John was having a good race until he flatted halfway through the bike leg. All in all, it seemed like a wonderful event, though. The webpage is here.

Stages of Loss

I'm a little reluctant to use this title, because people lose loved ones, jobs, freedom, and other big stuff. I lost my fitness. I just kind of fumbled it away, it was a result of my own (mis)doing. Nonetheless, I've been through the stages of loss: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and, now, acceptance.

Here's where I am: 10 days ago I ran a 5K race as hard as I could. It took 24:46. I'm in the worst physical shape of my adult life and, at 53, if I don't address it, a steady downhill seems plausible. I weigh 238 pounds. My back hurts, almost constantly. For the third year in a row, I've struggled with hamstring trouble.

But, given where I am physically, I just completed a decent workout week. I rowed 20K, in 5K increments. On Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, I followed those rows with core strengthening and stretching exercises that helped my back feel better and helped my regain some psychic balance. I walk every day. I'm fat, but no longer getting fatter. On Wednesday, I ran, 800s on the track. On Saturday, I ran again, 5.5 miles. I ran again this morning, 3.5 miles.

I have a modest Beach to Beacon goal. I want to run faster than my age. It's a challenging but attainable goal. It'll take work, but I'm ready to work again. I've accepted my current status. I still hope for progress, though, and I'll report in along the way.

A Day of Reckoning

Today is my birthday. It's a minor one--not a milestone. I'm still closer to fifty than to sixty. I am in the worst shape of my adult life. My weight is near an all time high (240 lbs.) and I can't run far or fast (even by my meager standards). I paddle rather than row. It is time to make changes!

I've been whining about back and hamstring issues. Then I saw this poor bastard's injury:

Catcher Chris Snyder left Monday night's game after getting hit by a foul tip in the groin area. About an hour before Tuesday's game the Diamondbacks put him on the 15-day disabled list with a left testicular fracture.

Snyder will undergo surgery on Wednesday with Melvin hoping his return is relatively soon.

"Hopefully looking at a 15-day period, where he is back after the All-Star break," Melvin said after the D-Backs 8-6 loss to the Brewers on Tuesday night.

That's right, a broken ball. You can watch it-- here.

Anyway, I'm going to break my balls to get back in shape.