Cycling for Idiot

This morning marked my first official ride on my lovely road bike. I rode from my house, at the corner of Beaver and Hickman to the Saylorville Dam. So much about the ride was fabulous: the spectacular views of Des Moines from the top of the dam, seeing the first gold finches of the season darting into the trees, fresh air, sunshine, the works.

Unfortunately, I am an idiot. I figured out how to get my bike into the smallest gear (I don't even know what that's called), but I could not, for the life of me, figure out how to get it into a higher gear. As a result, I rode 22 miles in one gear. I know that by admitting that I don't know this basic function I am going to be the focus of the scorn of bike-people the world over, but the bike didn't come with a manual and I don't really know that much about bikes to begin with.

A friend of mine owns a textbook on mountaineering. The author explains everything a person would need to know about mountaineering. Terms such as Sherpa and crevasse are defined. There are diagrams and helpful tips and instructional narrative.

Every time I saw that book I couldn't help thinking it was ridiculous. How could a person learn how to mountaineer with a textbook? Now, I am second guessing my scoffing. I need a Cycling for Idiots or a very sweet bike-geek/coach. In college at Oregon State, the White Tiger took a mountain biking class. Is there a road biking course out there?

I have so many questions, but I am not sure where to find the answers. I have too much pride to humble myself before the cyclo-cross-rock-star 22-year-old dudes who work in bike shops. Disdain hurts more than road-rash.

For now, I am going to try to cobble the information and skills together using a combination of The White Tiger, Ranger Dave, a basic maintenance class at the Bike Collective, and the internet.

Today's Workout Stats:
RAGBRAI: 86 days
Training Miles Complete: 22
Training Miles to Go: 978
Average Speed: 13 miles per hour (remember, just one gear people!)
Calories Burned: 1,255

Return of the Champ?

Lately, I've gotten some recognition for Jessica and my victory in the Juice Fitness Challenge. Friends who I haven't seen in a while tell me that I am looking good; regulars at the YMCA give me congratulations, but I haven't been able to accept these kind words with a feeling of shame. So much shame, that I hate to admit it now. I don't want to say I fell off the wagon, but I've certainly been hanging off the back with my feet dragging in the dust.

Justification time: obviously, I had to take a step down from the kind of intensity I was rocking during the Juice Fitness Challenge. Two-a-day workouts six or seven days a week, plus a near perfect 1,200 calorie diet made my body feel amazing but had completely squelched my social life and were eating up all of my time and joie di viev. I knew the transition to healthy living balanced with fun-living would be a difficult one. I went to New Orleans for a vacation. I stopped counting calories while I was there, and my goal of jogging daily dwindled as the nights got longer. When I got back from New Orleans, I was sick, antibiotic sick, which is rare for me. Then, I ran my 5k and jacked up my hip. Since then, a combination of pain and laziness has kept me from slinging my leg up over the side and climbing back on that wagon.

It's been more than a month since the end of the challenge and my fitness levels has slipped and my weight loss has stopped. And, I've been racked with guilt, so much guilt that I've been keeping my concerns bottled up.

Last weekend marked a new low: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were marked by late nights, excessive drinking, and too much food. It started with a wine-washed poetry circle with friends on Friday night and ended with hot dogs, cupcakes, and beer in during a rainy barbecue Sunday night. Sunday night I came home soggy, tired, and feeling like something a spat up by a duck. Was it rock bottom? Probably not, but I did realize, or remember, that eating like crap, ducking workouts, and not getting enough sleep, don't make me feel good. It's simple, and yet so complicated.

Monday morning I got back on the wagon; it's Wednesday and I feel fabulous. I even managed to stay strong in the face of delicious treats at a friend's Pampered Chef party. I skipped dinner, kept the drinking to a minimum, and tried to exercise moderation in the face of a cheese tray. I was successful in my moderation, and I feel proud. That pride, rather than guilt, will fuel my future success in moderation and good choices.

Of course, my workout with Gwyn, yesterday afternoon didn't hurt either. Gwyn arranged for me to meet her at the YMCA Healthy Living Center in West Des Moines. Wow. That is a swanky gym. The lockers are made of wood and the floors are paved with goals. There's a Gateway market stand with smoothies, a hot tub, and super-fancy machines with lots of TVs. Gwyn's appointment before me went long, so Andrew got me warmed up on a fancy ATC machine--like an elliptical but with varying strides. Then, Gwyn hit me with a series of push-up exercises, plus lunges and squats with weights.

Meet Gwyn and My Fitness Assessment Results

The only thing better than saying you have a personal trainer is actually having a personal trainer.

Meet Gwyn, my personal trainer. Don't let that sweet smile fool you. In our first session, she put me through a workout so tough I wanted to throw up just to catch my breath.

Jokes aside, I love Gwyn. She's got the perfect balance of kindness and drill sargent. She's not afraid to kick me when I start whining that my hip injury is going to "ruin my life forever." She laughs at my jokes, and she's also got a vast knowledge base.

For example:
Lauren: "Gwyn, my hip hurts, can you give me some swimming work outs until I recover?"
Gwyn: "Yes. Here you go."
Lauren: "Gwyn, I want to train for Ragbrai, can you help me with that?"
Gwyn: "Yes, I've done Ragbrai a bazillion times. I won back in 1996." (She didn't say that, but I am sure it's true.)

She's also promised to hook me up with her other clients for group workouts. One is a beginning runner, the others are cyclists who, she promised, are patient with beginners.

Yesterday, I met Gwyn for my first official fitness assessment. This is a service that is free to all YMCA members. Before the assessment, though, there were some protocols.

No workout 12 hours before--yes!
No alcohol 48 hours before--Boo.
Fast 4 hours before--okay, except that I accidentally ate some jelly beans at Back Country
Drink lots of water--define lots.

Then, we got down to business. Here are the "tests" and the results.

Percent Body Fat
We used a digital scale and the bioelectric impedance analysis. The bioelectric impedance analysis is the tool that looks like a hand-held game controller. It sends a current through the body. Body fat and bone show higher resistance versus muscle tissue.

Weight: 219.5
Percent Body Fat: 42.5%, BMI 40
Blood Pressure: 120/62

Measurements
I really have no basis for comparison with my measurements. I haven't done them since college when I went on the Atkins Diet. I can say that I am a far cry from the 36/24/36.
Arm: 13.25
Chest: 43
Abdomen: 38
Hip: 50
Thigh: 27.5

Fitness Testing
The fitness testing was the strangest of all. First, I had to step up and down on a step bench at a tempo of 96 beats per minute for 3 minutes. No talking. No use of arms. Then, Gwyn measured my recovering heart rate. Then, I did sit-ups for one minute, reaching from one line on the mat to the next. Then we did the push-up test. Gwyn counted how many push ups I could do in a row without breaking form. (Lowering your head is breaking form). Finally, I had to reach between my legs to a yard stick on a board to figure my flexibility.

Step Test: 87
Sit-Up Test: 29
Push-Up Test: 23
Sit and Reach: 11

Analysis
Then, we compared numbers. With the exception of my Sit and Reach, my fitness levels were all good or even excellent for my age-range, which was comforting. My Sit and Reach was "poor." I am excited to know that while I am overweight and I am many more inches that I would like to be, my level of fitness is pretty good. Having a high level of fitness should help me achieve my weight loss goals. We'll measure these again in 8-weeks and see how far I've come.

Goals
With my running career sidelined temporarily thanks to my bum hip, I am going to put aside my dreams of running the Dam-to-Dam 5k and focus on my next goal which is getting "ripped for Ragbrai," which is only 94 days away. I'm not exactly sure what that means, but I know that I want to be at a level of fitness that Ragbrai is more fun than agony. I'd also prefer not to drag that extra 19.5 pounds across the state of Iowa, so I am hoping to have lost that weight by then as well.

5K: Not the Loser

Saturday morning I woke before dawn and ran in my first, ever, road race. And, guess what? I didn't lose. Not by a long shot.

Last February I let my friend Panda talk me into running the 5K for the Olathe, Kansas Marathon. The race was only a warm up for the main event: dressing up in animal costumes and dancing to "Gonna Make You Sweat" by C & C Music Factory. Both were successful, I would say.

Panda ran the half-marathon, which started at 7:00 am. My race didn't start until 7:30, so I got to wait in the Kybo line with her and then watch her take off.

Running the 5k was a little nerve-wracking. For one, the kid's marathon (the last mile in a 26 mile odessy, so much lingo in the running world) was taking off right behind us, and I was panicked thinking of all the little kids blasting past me. For two, my right hip was feeling a little sore the previous week.

At 7:30, I fell into line with the rest of the 5k-ers. Panda's mom (Maggie), husband (Brad), and friend (Rosalie), saw me off. My goals for the race were to jog the entire 3.1 miles and finish. While I did finish, I didn't jog the entire route. After about 2 miles, my sore hip really started hurting and I was discouraged so I slowed to a walk a few times. In future races, I've decided, I need to get a little faster, so I am not in the group of people who walk and run. I need to speed up so I am with the slow-runners.

I am proud to say that I completed the race in 37:11 minutes, a P.R. as they call it in the running world (personal record, yo). I finished 29 out of 44 for my age bracket, and 165/266 for my gender. I wasn't the winner, but more importantly, I wasn't the loser.

After the race, we donned our animal costumes. Panda was the panda, Rosalie was the turkey, and I was the very angry Cheetah. Whether or not our efforts to cheer on the marathoners was appreciated, it is hard for me to say. My cheetah head kept falling in front of my eyes, so I just danced obliviously in my polyester outfit. Then, I drank three Boulevard Wheat beers. By 11:00am, I felt like I'd had a pretty full day.

My hip agreed. Something, sadly, is jacked. I am eager to get back on the workout/eat-right wagon, so I am going to see a doctor today. My hope is that I'll be able to start training for my next 5k (it is such a nice length to run), at the Dam-to-Dam. I also agreed to train for the half-marathon next year with Brad Smith. He's a hard-core biker, but not much of a runner. We'll see who's got more dry heaving skills.

For more comprehensive race coverage, and much better photos, check out Panda's blog.