Forced Rest

After putting in 20 hours of training, this past week was supposed to be all about recovery. But I think I might have biked a little too hard, and ran a bit too much and too fast this week. It was nice to feel fit and I think I just went a bit overboard, one of the pitfalls of not having a proper coach. Summer weather can also be brutal here in SF, and combining a tired body with a relentlessly cold and windy track workout on Thursday night left me waking up with a sore throat. The poor swim workout on Friday morning told me my body was under metabolic distress. But instead of going home after the workout, I proceeded with my planned weight session for the day. I'm a bit addicted to the weight room as of late. I always say I only need to be in there for 45 minutes, and lo and behold, 90 minutes later....I even snuck in an extra day of weights this past week. Once again, do yourself a favor and get yourself a proper coach. Well, since I wasn't taking proper care of myself, I guess the Universe decided to step in. I've been down and out for the past two days with a bad cold. I am now forced to rest and recover. Did I mention you might want to get yourself a proper coach? If so, this woman just recently started coaching.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

This is just a post to post that there's not much to post. I was trying to get back into the training groove, and after making a bit of gains, I got a cold. I hadn't completely knocked out the cold, but I figured I was okay to do some low key training. Well, the low key training led to a sinus infection, and it spread to my chest. I don't train when symptoms are neck down (cough, wheezing, etc...). I've had sinus infections in the past, and boy can they linger. Here's hoping that this is not the case, and I won't have to resort to antibiotics like I've done in the past. And oh, if you ever thought it was a good idea to visit San Francisco during the summer, think again. I believe it was Mark Twain that said something like the coldest winter he ever spent was the summer he lived in San Francisco.

Thank Goodness It's A Parasite

Blog goes silent = perplexing situation. The day after I flew back from a vacay in Colorado, I was suffering from bad nausea, especially when eating, smelling, or thinking about food. Having a mother that died from cancer when I was nineteen, combined with several close friends who also succumbed to the disease, my mind automatically assumes the worst and I get cancer of the mind (I need to work on this). Also, it was this same time last year that my friend Jeff was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, after he had been complaining of severe nausea, and a loss of appetite for any kind of food. Following my descent to dark places? The only time I felt good and close to normal, was when I was swimming, biking, or running. Thus, I thought maybe the nausea was due to stress? I've had a pretty stressful year job-wise, and I internalize a lot of my stress, and maybe it was coming forth in the form of nausea? All speculation. But after five days of nausea and speculation, my mind started going to bad places, and it was time to go see the doctor.

It took awhile to get the blood and stool (gross, be glad if you've never had to collect samples, yeah TMI) work results, but I'm happy to report that I have a parasite. Now that you know how my mind works, a parasite is much better than cancer. I most likely contracted the parasite from tainted food because the other way of getting it is swimming in a lake, which I have not done in over a month. I'm taking SIX PILLS a day for the next 10 days, and then back off to 3 pills a day for another 10 days. And even though food was making me nauseous, I was determined not to lose weight, so I forced myself to eat things like a vegan, raw chocolate mousse that I made from avocado, agave nectar, cocoa powder, vanilla and almond extract. Just those five ingredients made a damn tasty chocolate mousse!

Reprieve

I have this untested theory that my training/exercise is a natural antidepressant. The last two weeks have been filled with more down days than usual, prompting me to actually consider calling the doc for a low-dose anti-anxiety pill. Sometimes I struggle when deciding exactly how much to share in the blog world, I probably just shared too much. The mystery ailments are taking their toll on me, causing other mystery ailments that I'm sure are a result of the anxiety I feel around not knowing what the hell is going on with my body. I might get some reprieve tomorrow when I finally get to see the urologist. As for the painful ear infection thing, still no reprieve. But I did get a bit of reprieve this weekend in the form of mountain therapy.

My friend Leslie, a ski bud of mine since we were 13 years-old, invited me to the mountains to learn how to telemark ski. We spent our childhood skiing FAST, on slick groom trails and in and out of trees in the powder. We saw an older man telemarking while we rode up the lifts one day, and we both jokingly said that when we got old, we would switch over to the more graceful/mature way of going downhill. Well, I guess that day has come, and I cannot tell you how much I love tele skiing. It just felt right. The mystery ailments were still there, but the symptoms seemed to be pushed a bit further toward the background. As I figure this out, I will continue to count my blessings, focus on the good, and try my best to keep calm and carry on.

And I want to share that Michele Baldwin, the stand-up paddler I blogged about with terminal cervical cancer, died peacefully yesterday. I followed her on her Facebook page, and I was so impressed with the dignity and the grace she carried in her final moments. It seemed more peaceful than sad. And her final act? She broke the record for the longest stand-up paddle, paddling 700 miles down a river in India.

Personal Leave Weekend

I had at least two blog entries stewing in my head about how well the training was going and how fit I felt of late. And the numbers confirmed what I felt, I was hitting season best times and approaching several PR's. I was getting the training done, but the rest of my life was quite hectic. This past Wednesday, I woke up at 5:00 AM to what I can only explain as a mini meltdown. What am I doing? This is not my job. Isn't this supposed to be fun? What was I thinking signing up for two Ironmans? Somehow, I was able to get on the trainer and complete my brick workout, even PRing my run loop for the season. One meltdown avoided.

This time last year, I didn't have a full-time job, and I was living the real life of a pro. This year, a different story. Not only am I working 10+ hour days, but I'm also coaching again. During my coaching season, I like to tell my friends that I feel like a single dad to 23 children. Yes, they can be quite needy. And like every parent with children, you pick up whatever illnesses they have. In my case, there is a stomach flu going around. Sure enough, Friday night, it was coming out of me at both ends (TMI?), the stomach flu. If you ever want to get down to your fighting weight, contract the stomach flu. It's a horrible feeling, you're starving but the thought of food just makes you even more sick. I'm sitting here now, able to get some food down but my energy level is definitely waaaay down. I don't see myself starting the training back up until Tuesday. I try not to focus on the gains that I've made in the past 10 days slipping away. I believe consistency is the way to get faster, and well, this is not helping my consistency, oh well.

And to make matters worst, this guitar keeps staring at me. My friends are getting married this weekend, and they asked their friends in lieu of gifts, to contribute something (a story, poem, etc..) to the ceremony. Somehow, I got it in my head that I would learn to sing and play this song on the guitar. But after meeting with my guitar teacher for our first lesson, she gave me a bit of a reality check and she said there was no way in hell I was going to do it in the time that I have. So I suggested another Cat Stevens song and she said this is doable...but I might want to consider the appropriateness of singing a song called Father and Son at a wedding. I told her it doesn't really matter, everybody is going to be too distracted by my singing and playing to even notice the words. All of my friends know I have no musical talent whatsoever so they'll just be in shock the entire time. I have one more week to get this damn thing down. Dig deep Kiet, dig deep.