health

This morning was my first deep water aerobics class. I've been looking for some form of exercise that might be easier on the knees that won't necessarily cost a couple grand (think, "elliptical trainer") or be too inconvenient (think, "the closest, best, most convenient two athletic facilities have closed in the last year"). Having looked at the local pool class listings off and on for the last few years, I figured until the new year fitness fervor ends at Powerbodies, I'd give it a go.

I covered the minor hurdles with the class (the foremost being, of course, buy a bathing suit), but had to cover the biggest one: be at the cold, cold pool at 8:00 am.

Did I mention the "cold" part?

I was so cold this morning, I had three winter layers on as I drove to the pool this morning. I wandered around the pool, figuring out the entrance location ("Hey, around the corner, hidden behind this outcropping seems like a brilliant place to put the gate, let's put it here!"), and stood looking quite lost at the poolside, arriving a miraculous five minutes early.

And, promptly froze my toes off.

One by one, the other ladies of the class wandered past me, into the locker room, then back out and into the pool. The look of confusion on my face clearly clued in the instructor, who introduced herself (Sharon) and let me know the gist of the class organization. Yes, it's cold. Yes, I want to bring a hat. Yes, I want to wear said hat in the pool. Yes, earmuffs are good, too. Yes, a synthetic shirt will also be good, not to keep me warm, but rather to keep the breeze off my shoulders.

Oh.

And if I get too cold, move faster.

Into the water I went. Usually one to ease into the water, I pretty much splashed right in with the floatation belt secured tightly around my waist. I had the smallest one they had. It kept me afloat just fine.

After a few moments of perfecting my utterly-lost look, while I cavalierly squandering a part of my thermal budget, I met the first of the many class participants. Dori introduced herself and explained the general class outline: warmup, circle up for words, gradual build up of intensity in the workout as we exercized in one giant oval around and around and around the pool.

Nearly as futile as running around one giant quarter mile track: you don't really get anywhere.

As Sharon entered the water and started the warmups, most of the women (and, yes, they were all women, all older than I, and all either the previous generation or maybe 150% my size) gathered into small groups and started talking. Dori seemed most interested in exercising. She did the exercises with the highest intensity after Sharon. Dori and Sharon were also the fittest women in the pool as far as I could tell. I stuck with Dori and her explanations and intensity throughout most of the class, visiting briefly with other classmates as they welcomed me into the class. The previous newbie (Denise?) joined the class last September and has been trhilled with her increased flexibility. The class has been running for twelve years, I don't know if anyone has been attending that long.

After the hour was up, I hurried out of the pool and promptly froze my feet off. The cement is cold and that 80° water doesn't seem so cold when confronted with 45° air.

I have another class tomorrow morning, but I won't be making that one. I'm far too (pleasantly) tired from this first class, and will happily sleep well tonight after picking Heather up from the airport and dropping her off at home. Today will be a long, long day.

I'm also completely wishing I could figure out what I was doing right, so that I can keep doing it.

Kris and I had just finished up throwing in the wind at Baylands this afternoon when I realized I couldn't see anything to the left. The lighting was really weird, so I wasn't sure if my vision issues were the lighting or a migraine. I kept thinking, 20 minutes. I have 20 minutes before I lose all of my sight.

So, four for the year. Damn, if I can have these once every six months, I would be very, very happy.

Tried vicodin for the headache. Not sure if it's as effective as I need it to be. I slept for four hours (through some of Bella's barking), but woke up with a nasty headache on the right side (following Dad's advice of leaving the headace on the one side). Had to follow up with Tylenol after four hours, though.

Bah.

Puts a damper on my evening run tonight.

Second note to self: one should clue in that if said one tries to put her sports bra on backwards, perhaps a nap would be better than a track workout.

With that said, what was I thinking? "I'm happy my fitness is coming back." Must have been the Snack of Champions™.

Today's track workout kicked my ass. It consisted of:

I was nothing if not consistent in the 200s. I ran 45-46 second 200s every time. Which is such a blow to the confidence. I could run them in 26 in college. Sigh. My 400 times were 1:46, which also sucks big time. Of course, when I ran the 64 second 400, I had to do it only once.

My hamstring is hurting again, too. I really need to let that thing heal already.

Sigh.

For the last two weeks, Kris was sick. He had some sort of cold/flu/lung congestion, coughing all day/night, with several days in bed, sick days at home. Through it all, I was able to take care of him, no problem. Well, as much as one needs to take care of someone who spends the whole day sleeping.

He managed to heal enough to restart his training for the Wildflower Triathalon, which he, Ben and Kyle are doing in two weeks. And then he overdid it, becoming ill again.

I stayed healthy through it all.

At least until I ran out of apples.

I've been eating a fuji apple a day, with peanut butter, as fujis are in season, they're sweet, crunchy and simply delicious. I'm convinced the nectar of the gods wasn't some mead or other drink, it was apples covered in tasty, tasty peanut butter. Mmmmmmm....

The organic ones are currently on sale for $1.99 a pound at Whole Foods, so I've been buying them by the armful, 20 at a time.

But I ran out last week.

Right about the time I came down with whatever Kris had. Or a reasonable facsimile there of. That was last Sunday. I felt bad on Sunday morning, but went to practice anyway. I managed to do the warmups, run the plyometric drills, play a few points, stand around for a while, then go home. I was tired, feverish and not feeling good at all.

Two days of trying desperately to recover, working slowly from home, and off to try the track workout tonight. Half a mile warmup, ladder drills and I feel like crap. What the fuck was I thinking? High intensity workout with a fever. Hello?

So now I'm back home and feeling horrible: feverish, achy sore, unable to breather, the works. What was I thinking?

Sigh.

(And, no, I don't really think running out of apples was why I got sick. Quite coincidental.)