The week in fitness

Howdy, friends.

I haven’t made time to blog lately. Does anyone really care about my running? Probably not.

But here it is anyway.

This week for the first time since the Boston Marathon, I don’t feel like total crap. That’s good, right?

So here’s what I did:

Monday: 6.5 easy miles

Tuesday: A fitness test (which I’ll explain below)

Wednesday: 6.5 easy miles, taught a 45-minute spin class

Thursday: Another easy 6 miles, taught a 45-minute spin class, push-ups

Friday: 12 miles before work at a nice clip — and, even better, a progressively faster run. It was a beautiful crisp, clear morning to run.

I’m not sure what the weekend holds. It’s calling for storms. And I really need a day off. Right now I think I’ll just let myself sleep in — especially after getting up at 4:30 today. At our house, “sleeping in” means hoping the kids sleep until 7.

It was a good week, with a fine sort of mid-distance run there. The Sioux Falls Marathon isn’t until September, so I have plenty of time to just sort of maintain.

So, the fitness test … my coworker and I took it, and our friend and city wellness guru gave it to us. It’s part of an upcoming video series on health, fitness and recreation. We recorded the whole thing, but it’s not ready for prime time just yet.

But here are the basics:

4:00 plank — done, but I hope I never have to do that again

21 single-leg balance exercises, on each leg — done, and that was sort of easy for me

As many push-ups as you can in a minute: I did 40 boy-style push-ups (I know that’s not the technical term, but whatever). I think I did more, but some were discounted for not being 90 degrees. Wah.

A series of 24 each squats, jumping squats and lunges, bam, bam, bam. That was OK, except the jumping squats, which are horrible to me after the first one.

Through it all, I scored “excellent.”

Yeah, baby.

Then. Oh, then. Then came the flexibility test, where you sit with your legs extended, and reach as far as you can to push this little lever. First of all, I can’t even straighten my legs without them trembling — I am THAT inflexible. And then I could only reach the 12. Even after three tries. Which puts me in the “very poor” category for flexibility.

“Do you ever stretch?” they asked.

“Um, sometimes I lean over and bring in the paper after a run,” I replied. I am so lame. To get on the board, I need to reach 6 more inches. I give up already.

Happy running.

Well, that explains it

Howdy, friends.

I saw this link today, a study that says Ohioans curse more than others — my home state earned “sailor” status.

The first time I swore in front of my dad — who has a major, MAJOR potty mouth — I was pouring boiling water into a teacup. I also was turned and talking to him, and poured it all on my foot, by accident.

What came out of my mouth started with “mother” and ended with something else.

My dad sat there, smoking a cigarette at our kitchen table, and started laughing.

“That hurt?”

Heck yes, it did. It really hurt. You pour boiling water on your foot and see if you don’t say something unseemly. That calls for more than a “oh goodness,” and I don’t care who you are.

I’ve had a trucker mouth ever since. That’s actually an insult to truckers.

My name is Jacqueline, and I curse all the time. I don’t even think about it. A lot of times I don’t realize it until I see a look pass over someone’s face — someone who doesn’t approve. I always feel bad — it’s not on purpose. It just comes out. I come by it honestly — my dad can’t get through a sentence about the weather without a few f-bombs and more.

Still, I know I need to curb it, and do try. It comes out more when I’m super cranky or frustrated. Or really excited and happy. Not everyone appreciates it, and I often forget people can hear me when I talk to myself. Out loud. (Which I get from my mom.)

I’ve worked really hard to not swear around Jack and Viv. Or when I teach a spin class at the gym. I’ve traded in some great curse words for “Holy cannoli” and “Good grief.” But it slips here and there — and Jack once walked by my conservative in-laws saying “Goddamnit,” which was horrifying.

They’re from Minnesota, which scored slightly worse (better?) than my current state of South Dakota.

http://marchexdotcom.files.wordpress.com/2013/05/rude_polite_ranking.gif

There’s no real point to this post. Just like there’s no real point to cursing.

Still. I love Ohio. Home of rock-n-roll and the F-bomb. Yeah baby.

 

One thing leads to another … Franz Wright to Yann Martel

Howdy, friends.

I am deep into “Brain on Fire” right now, a nonfiction account of a woman with a rare autoimmune disease that has her slowly descend into (then out of ) madness. It’s pretty awesome.

As she develops more symptoms, she ends up in the hospital, on an epilepsy floor. That section of the book starts with a poem by Franz Wright, who I had never heard of before. Clearly I need to read more poetry (who doesn’t?). (Plus he went to Oberlin College, which is like 20 minutes from where I grew up and automatically makes him super awesome even though I got wait-listed there, but I digress.)

I didn’t realize it was a poem at first, and it was so perfectly placed. I think I might be in love with it.

Here it is:

Intake Interview

by Franz Wright

What is today’s date?

Who is the President?

How great a danger do you pose, on a scale of one to ten?

What does “people who live in glass houses” mean?

Every symphony is a suicide postponed, true or false?

Should each individual snowflake be held accountable for the
avalanche?

Name five rivers.

What do you see yourself doing in ten minutes?

How about some lovely soft Thorazine music?

If you could have half an hour with your father, what would you
say to him?

What should you do if I fall asleep?

Are you still following in his mastodon footsteps?

What is the moral of “Mary Had a Little Lamb”?

What about his Everest shadow?

Would you compare your education to a disease so rare no one
else has ever had it, or the deliberate extermination
of indigenous populations?

Which is more puzzling, the existence of suffering or its frequent
absence?

Should an odd number be sacrificed to the gods of the sky, and an
even to those of the underworld, or vice versa?

Would you visit a country where nobody talks?

What would you have done differently?

Why are you here?

 

Are you swooning yet?

It kind of reminds me of the end of “Beatrice and Virgil,” a book by Yann Martel (of “Life of Pi” fame), which ends with this series of haunting scruples questions. (Review here.) I thought about the end of that book for weeks. I still think about it.

Happy running, reading and pondering.

Little blob of super good writing

Like that title? I thought you would. Super good writing is super good, you know. Unlike what I do here.

I was reading an article on newspaper competition in New Orleans, and there was a link to this book review, “She Left Me the Gun” by Emma Brockes. I tend to not read book reviews (or movie reviews) because I don’t want any spoilers. So I don’t know why I read this one. The book is a memoir of a woman searching out her mother’s history. It sounds pretty amazing.

The review ended with a spoiler about the title and a line from the book:

This is just about the only thing about “She Left Me the Gun” that’s unsatisfying, however. This is a grim story, but it’s also a love story.

“Her genius as a parent,” Ms. Brockes writes about Paula, was that her protection was invisible. “If the landscape that eventually emerged can be visualized as the bleakest thing I know — a British beach in winter — she stood around me like a windbreak so that all I saw was colors.”

Wow. I love it. I admit to trying not to cry at my desk when I read it. I am super sentimental about my dad — he raised me and is everything to me. And sometimes when I am all panicky, I think that when he dies, there won’t be anyone left on earth who loves me like he does. No matter what. Always. It’s his best quality: He’s always happy to see you. To hear from you. To make time for you. He’ll listen to whatever you need to talk about, offer advice, won’t be scared off when you say all the horrible thoughts you have, or think mean things or act like a total moron.

Which I’ve done. A lot.

And even though he made a lot of really bad decisions and had a lot of horrible things happen to him, and we did, too, like Brockes’ mother, he tried to make my life better. And he did. Just by being there. By always, always being there.

 

 

Currently reading: “Brain on Fire: My Month of Madness”

Howdy, friends.

I confess — about 200 pages into the giant “Wolf Hall” Tudor history book, I had to read something else. I’ll probably read them both at the same time, but that book just kept making me fall asleep.

So, I picked up one of my other library books:

I steal all the books a friend of mine posts on GoodReads, so I think that is where I discovered this one. I JUST started it, but I can tell already that I will like it. Partly because the author is a journalist and writes a bit about the unique life of working in a newsroom — if you’ve never worked in one, it’s different than almost any other office, I think.

Here is a New York Times review.

And here is one from Scientific American.

Happy reading.

Mother’s Day at Newton Hills State Park

Howdy, friends.

We had a pretty great Mother’s Day at our house.

My day started with a 12-mile run with several friends. We just ran these about 2-mile loops on dirt and gravel at a local park.

Then I came home and Philip made me an omelet (he is an awesome breakfast cook) and his specialty, homemade croissants. He has celiac and can’t even eat them anymore, but he made them just for me. It’s a 24-hour process, full of steps and patience, but SO worth it. They are amazing. I may or may not have stood in my kitchen in my sweaty, gross running clothes and eaten like six of them in a row. I’m sure there are hardly any calories, right? I mean, it was only a pound of butter in them … . Yum.

Then he and the kids gave me some gifts — a new ipod and Jack made me a little box with candy in it. It was great. And a card with a sticker that said, “World’s Best Mom” in it.

Already my day was perfect, but then we decided to drive a little and take the kids to Newton Hills State Park, near us.

I used to go there a lot when I first moved to South Dakota, 13 years ago. I mountain biked there a few times, hiked a bit. Philip and I went hiking there on one of our first dates. But I don’t think I’ve been there in at least five or six years. I don’t even know why. It’s not far at all.

We told the kids we were going hiking — which they’ve never done — and then to a playground. We knew if we hit the playground first, we’d never get them on the trail.

Thankfully, they were in great moods and game for anything. We packed an easy picnic lunch and headed out.

It was perfect.

Hanging out on a log.

Big girl!

Jack had no idea you could climb trees. Clearly we don’t get into nature nearly enough.

One of the many times Viv just sat on the trail and refused to keep going.

Philip and the turkeys!

Having a wonderful Mother’s Day.

Look how sweet this is.

At some points, Jack was just SPRINTING down the trail. It was awesome.

“Mom, is this nature?”

We played at the playground afterward, and it was wonderful. He and Viv made it one whole loop — maybe a mile? It took us about an hour, which is fine with me. But they got a second wind when they saw swings and a slide. I think we will definitely go back this summer to camp. They are at a great age for it — easily entertained.

Though later they said they really liked Newton Hills, then Jack said, “Can we go back and play there?”

“Sure, buddy,” I said.
“But next time can we not do that hiking part?”

Ha ha. Uh, no, you have to hike, kiddo.

All I wanted for Mother’s Day was to spend time with my family, being outside, with no goals, deadlines, chores or plan. Just hang out and go with whatever sounds good. And that is exactly what we did.

Plus I got a long run in, so yay!

Happy running.

 

Summer running plans

Howdy, friends.

I haven’t written much about running lately as I tried to get over a virus followed by a cold followed by being pathetic.

The week after Boston, I took a few days off, then ran a bit. Then the next week I had to teach spin classes, and ended up doing doubles every day — that isn’t smart post-race exercise.

But it caught up to me, and I got sick, and ended up taking a bit more time off.

Finally I feel normal again — you know, overworked, exhausted, sick of doing laundry and desperate for candy and Diet Coke nonstop. The usual.

Last week I ran about 35 miles, which is just fine. That included a long run of 10 miles on Saturday at an easy clip. Sunday I met up with the Lincoln group for a few faster miles, and for the first time in a month, I felt like it was easy. It’s funny how you can run a marathon and then a week later feel like you’re in the worst shape of your life because you can’t drag yourself through a 5-miler without cursing.

But that’s how it goes.

I plan to do another 10-miler tomorrow morning before work, and then I hope to be back on track. I also lifted weights Tuesday for the first time in a month — and I confess I am painfully sore from it. I’m already trying to talk myself out of my lunchtime workout today. I need some motivation. Quick, someone shame me into going to the gym.

My sister signed up to run the Sioux Falls Marathon in September, so I guess I’ll do that, too. I’m not in love with the event or the course, but that’s OK. Maybe then Philip can do Twin Cities and we can sort of stagger our monster months of training — and our taper madness. That alone would take some strain off parenting-marriage-marathoning. It’ tough to make time for both of us to train, and this could help.

So, it looks like I’ll do an early fall race.

Beyond that, I really want to run the Jackrabbit 15 in October. Partly to keep a tradition alive. And partly because my two other goals this summer are endurance and trails.

I would like to see how far I can run — with a goal of doing 30 or 40 or 50 miles at a shot by the fall. Why not run the Jack 15 and then run back to my car at the start, for a nice, easy 30.4 miles? I’m grateful to have one nutty friend also interested in the challenge.

Then I ordered some trail shoes — my first. I so enjoyed the gravel road running I did this winter/spring, I’d like to keep it up and add some dirt trails, too.

I can’t wait to wear these bad boys:

Courtesy of Road Runner Sports

They aren’t SERIOUS trail shoes — no Gore-Tex there — but they are a bit more rugged and beefier than my normal shoes. I figure they were a good intro-to-trails shoe.

So, that’s the plan, man.

Run for a long time.

On gravel.

Or dirt.

And a quick fall marathon.

No problem, right?

Happy running.

Currently reading: “Wolf Hall” by Hilary Mantel

Howdy, friends.

This is what I’m reading now:

I’m about 10 pages into it, so not very far. Especially considering it’s about 600 pages. And the first part was a list of characters — that spanned about 7 pages — and then a few pages of family trees. Good grief. I picked this book up because the second in the series, “Bring up the Bodies,” made the list of the top 100 book of 2012 according to The New York Times.

Here is a review of “Wolf Hall.”

And another, from NPR.

And some commentary on the Duchess Kate by the author (random celebrity/royalty link).

And a note calling Hilary Mantel one of the most influential people in the world:

Unlike most historical novelists, she writes without sentimentality. Her two hefty volumes on Thomas Cromwell, brutal adviser to King Henry VIII — the King who destroyed the English monasteries and beheaded two of his six wives — have captured the British reading public and carried off all the prizes with the vigor of the narrative and minutely evoked detail of Cromwell’s day-to-day life. Amazingly, she makes a man renowned for nastiness into a sympathetic hero.

The book is a beast, but I’m game. I just finished “Sharp Objects” in two days — staying up way too late one night to get through it. It was great, though like “Gone Girl,” I thought the ending was a little too … neat? I don’t even know what the word is. But I liked it.

I didn’t realize how giant “Wolf Hall” was until I picked it up from my holds at the library. Then I sat down on the couch last night and opened it up.

“Oh no,” I told Philip.

“What?,” he said. “Tiny print?”

“Worse,” I said. “A list of characters and a family tree!”

That always guarantees I’ll be confused from the start. Sometimes I just have to give in to my horrible memory and mow through a book, remembering as best I can who all the characters are. Otherwise, I turn back to that list every 3 pages and eventually get frustrated.

Happy reading.

 

Currently reading: “Sharp Objects” by Gillian Flynn

Howdy, friends.

This is what I’m reading now:

Here is a review from USA Today.

I love to read an author’s first novel, and this is Flynn’s. I read “Gone Girl” earlier this year and loved it … right up until the very end. This book has already completely sucked me in — I know it’s a good book when I wake up early on the days I’m not running at the crack of dawn and just read instead. I love those quiet early hours. And the entire pot of coffee I usually drink sitting there.

I’m about 100 pages in, and I’m loving it. Flynn is a writer for Entertainment Weekly (here is her very funny profile of herself), so the only surprise I have is that the main character, a journalist, uses words like “puff piece.” In 16 years as a journalist, I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone say that. “Evergreen”, “profile”, “feature” and “bright”, maybe, but never puff piece. Maybe we aren’t doing enough puff pieces??

Happy reading.

On keeping kids innocent

Howdy friends.

This is my column from the Sunday paper:

Every weekend, when my daughter takes her nap, my son and I enjoy a little time together.

Sometimes I read a book to him.

Sometimes Jack, 4, reads one to me – slowly, carefully and with lots of help every time he says, “You say it.”

He does puzzles while I read my own book. Or we play some of the games we have. Once he drew pictures on construction paper and told me what to write, and we made a little book about “Robots and zookeepers” for his dad.  (The only difference between the two is that robots have more eyes.)

We monitor the shows Jack and Viv, 2, watch, and try to limit screen time to a show after breakfast on the weekends and one while I make dinner. They still love “Dora,” and “Wonder Pets” and all the Leap Frog learning shows on Netflix. And occasionally I’ll let them watch the hour-long, horribly dull “Thomas” shows. We don’t have cable, so they only watch shows online and so far haven’t seen commercials.

Viv already likes to hit me and Jack likes to push her, so it’s not like we need to introduce any violent media into their lives. Little kids are naughty enough, right?

Sometimes during those quiet afternoons with Jack, I let him play with the iPad. It’s a big treat – and he likes to play “Monkey Lunch Box,” which is a game of making matches and solving puzzles. Or  “Monsters Get Sick,” some storytelling thing I barely understand. Most recently, I downloaded “Fruit Ninja” for him – a game where you swipe flying fruit and splatter it. But sometimes bombs come up and you have to avoid them.

“What are those things?” Jack asked me this past weekend when the bombs appeared on the screen. I didn’t really know how to answer. I didn’t feel like explaining what a bomb is – this question came less than a week after we were in Boston for a family reunion and I crossed the finish line of the marathon minutes before two real bombs went off. We didn’t tell the kids what happened that day, and avoided having any television or radio on when they are awake and refuse to discuss it in their presence.

Ages 2 and 4 are too young to know about that if they don’t have to.

So I waited a beat, and he said, “Are they lanterns?”

“Yes,” I said, relieved. “Don’t smash the lanterns. Just the fruit.”

I feel bad lying about it – mostly because I hate poor vocabulary and don’t want him to use the wrong words for things. It’s the same reason we use the real name for all body parts.

I don’t know what the right thing to do is. And I don’t know why the creators of Fruit Ninja had to throw bombs in it. Wouldn’t snakes or something have been equally fine? I can’t stand how even little bits of needless violence creep into life.

Jack just started being able to read very simple words and books. We have stuck to the “Dear Dragon” series, which is so, so basic and benign. “Yes, mother, I will help make cookies,” that kind of thing. But he picked up a Batman early reader recently, and I couldn’t talk him out of it.

Even though the book was geared toward preschoolers, it was still way, way too violent for me. Thankfully it was also a little too difficult for him, so I read it to him. Which meant in my version there was no evil person, just some guy Batman wanted to help and then they all went swimming (I left out the part about swimming in a sewer to escape the bad guys). Of course, then I had to carefully explain to Philip what the revised version of the book was, for when he read it to him. He’s on board with keeping the kids innocent, which makes me happy. Raising kids is hard enough, without disagreeing about something like that.

It’s funny how strongly I feel about all this. I have three older sisters, and they always let me watch stuff way, way too old for me. Including “Blue Lagoon,” “Grease” and many episodes of “General Hospital.”

I’m grateful my kids were with their aunt hours north of Boston when the bombs went off on April 15. And I’m grateful that my sister kept the television off until they went to bed, even though she was desperate for news. In moments like that, Twitter is heaven – you can get what you want without the kids seeing it.

I know we can’t protect Jack and Viv forever. But we’re going to keep trying.