It's Getting Hot In Here

I have never been a person who wasn't clumsy. I'm learning there's a different between clumsy and coordination.

I've been bowling since I was 10 years old; that takes coordination.
I've been increasing the pace of my running cadence both on a treadmill, as well as outside; that takes coordination.
I can be walking on a flat surface, in flat shoes and trip; I'm just clumsy.

Hit the Deck!

After the Indoor Tri I continued working on my bike, run, and strength training, but I didn't step/splash/sink/swim in the pool again. The thought crossed my mind, but I just didn't "Jump Right In" so to speak. It took minimal convincing from Kristine to go on one Saturday morning to Matt's swim class.

I remember being in grade school taking swim lessons. I'd get my suit on at home, put my clothes over it, my mom would drive me to swim lessons and for an hour that was my Saturday morning. Swim lessons didn't last long, I learned the basics and lost interest pretty quickly. I was a lot slower than the other kids and was held back in Station 3 two times, so that's where my swim career ended.

Looking back, maybe I was defeated. I don't sit and wonder what would have happened if I had stuck with it. I don't think now that I would have gotten more laps in during the Indoor Tri if in grade school I had continued. Much like grade school friends that the friendship didn't last; I don't think it really altered later years of my life.

Much like in grade school I suited up at home, put on my gym clothes over my suit and I was off. I nervously paced in the locker room before class. I even went to the pool area, saw people swimming; class was still 10 minutes away. I went back in the locker room and paced some more. It was go time. I went back to the pool. I stood nervously, put my swim cap on, and held my goggles.

Matt greeted me and told me which lane to get in, he even introduced me to the rest of the class. My pace: slow. My form: nonexistent. My breathing: labored, when I'd remember to breath. My kicking: the closest thing to a saving grace, and even that was questionable. I declared myself the worst swimmer ever. Sure, it's possibly over exaggerating, but I was pretty awful.

While it seems obvious that drills would be part of learning to swim, what is less obvious to me is that half way through the drills I would have an epiphany. I'd be midway through the pool, from one end to the next, and I'd understand. It would all make sense. I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. The reason for the drill. And that's when I usually forget to breath. I would get so caught up in the fact that I even remotely understood why I was turning on my side, extending my arm as far as I could, and then I'd forget to breath. I would pop up from the water, grab some air, and try again.

My first swim class was rough. It was. 60 minutes of swimming is a pretty long time. In reality if I weren't horrible at swimming it wouldn't seem so long. But I am self-proclaimed horrible. Matt is way too kind and polite to tell me I'm awful, but I know I am. I tell myself, I can only get better. And that's the thing. I can only get better. Regardless of how awful I am or am not, I can only get better. Well, unless I get worse, then that would just downright suck.

The end of my first swim class brought diving off the edge. Now, I'm not exactly graceful. I'm not. I saw others dive in and thought "I'm going to flop, literally belly flop." Matt guided me from diving off the side into the pool. Sure enough my first attempt, if judged would have been rated an 8 out of 10 on a belly flop scale. It wasn't full blown belly flop, but I'm pretty sure I made a literal splash. My second attempt brought me a tad better result, except I went down deep and almost touched the bottom of the pool with my hands. Less flopping for sure, but a bit too far down too rapidly. My third attempt became my last. Matt changed my stance and form since I was admittedly not comfortable with my body. I felt it happen. I knew instantly it would bruise. I did literally, hit the deck. My head, arms, and chest were already in the water before I had finished launching myself off the edge.

My left shin did not clear the side of the pool. I felt it happen. Matt apologized profusely. It wasn't his fault. I actually laughed and said "That's going to leave a mark". The funny thing? I thought "Badass, I just got the first of probably many injuries from swimming." The reality? That bad boy bruised instantly and was swollen for the next few days.

I swim a few times a week practicing, leading up to swim class on Saturday. I actually am starting to believe I'm getting better. My off the side diving? I haven't tried again, but it's only a matter of time before my shin and I show that side who is boss.

Gratitude Jar

Pinterest is downright evil. There I said it.

I like to believe I'm a 'realist' when it comes to my pinning on Pinterest. I do not have that board of 'Dream House' with extravagant kitchens or backyard pools. I do not have that board of 'My Style' with outfits laid out that look good in photo, but aren't a reality for me. That's not to say I don't have an abundance of boards with jewelry; because I do, aptly each is named "I Like Pretties": Piece of Jewlery.

Try to TRI

One hour. 60 Minutes. 3600 Seconds. That's all it was. One hour. 60 Minutes. 3600 Seconds. I told myself.

I was ignorant, there I said it. I didn't know that Triathlons were a sport. Sure, I assumed Triathletes were athletes, since well you know, Tri-athletes. I thought Triathlons were Ironman Races and that was that. 

The gym was hosting a 60-minute Indoor Tri. It was a 10 minute swim followed by a 10 minute transition. Then there was a 30 minute bike ride followed by a 5 minute transition. Ending was a 20 minute run. 60 Minutes. Well that's a nice thought, but why. Seriously, why? 

Commitment Day 5k, 2015

The day had come. January 01, 2015. The Commitment Day 5k. Literal months of training. And the first race Will and I would complete together.

Oddly we didn't have snow, not bad for Chicagoland on New Year's Day. It was cold and it was windy. Most of all? I was giddy with excitement. I was standing with and going to race with people who also were Committing to another year of a healthy lifestyle and challenging themselves.

Will said we'd run at my pace, whatever I was comfortable with. I had my gloves on and was wearing a shirt that had thumb holes; this was purposeful. I didn't want to have access to look at my watch or my Garmin. I wanted to trust the pace I had worked so hard to get to, and if I didn't get there, then I'd learn. It was my first real race.

Hi, I'm Slow

As my weekly Tuesday night 5k training went on, I picked up pace. I was proud of myself. I did however know that the very kind gentleman, Ken, training me runs a 4:30 marathon pace. So I always had guilt and would internally apologize to him the entire run. I never externally apologized because he's the type of guy who could be surrounded by disaster and still find something great in it.

My last week of training was upon me, Will had to work so I was on my own. It was just going to be Ken and I. It was a pretty decent Chicagoland night and that brought more runners to our local club. So we broke off into groups. In my mind we were breaking off into "Everyone else" and then "Ken who is stuck with Lori". In reality we broke off into two groups "Long run" and "Longer run". Wait, I was with "Long run"?

Joining Ken and I was a gentleman named Frank. We stepped outside and discussed our route. Frank introduced himself. I said "Hi, I'm sorry I'll slow you down". Frank stopped me. He said "It doesn't matter, we just want to run" and Ken agreed. Remember, I told you Ken could be surrounded by disaster and still find something great in it.

And we were off.

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

We've all heard the phrase before "A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words" and to each of us it means something different.

For me, I have a photography background so I'm over analytical and look for things such as exposure, grain, "true blacks" and "true whites" in black and white photography. I look for and practice the rule of thirds. Having now just typed that out, I think I just realized why I am horrible at the 'selfie' as they call it. I digress.