Decide What You Want To Do & Then Find People Who Are Better At It Than You

Yesterday I ran the inaugural Fleet Feet Pickle, an 18.2-mile store-to-store charity run for Backpack Beginnings. Later that night, I attended a “Post-Pickle Party.” Someone at the party asked how long I’d been running and if I’d always been as fast as I am now.

My answer was no, nowhere close. I was a 10-minute miler at best when I started running. I remember thinking that if I could ever only hold a 9-minute pace for a 5K, I’d never ask for anything ever again.

“So how did you get faster?” was the follow-up question.

My answer is that I run with runners who are faster than me.

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Back On The Bike

I had good intentions this winter of staying active on my bike. Bought an expensive trainer. Positioned the bike strategically in front of the TV. Rode it twice in five months.

Oh well.

So we’ve established I’m not an indoor cyclist. But I’m determined this year to spend more time on the bike. I’ve already taken the plunge and signed up to ride 24 Hours of Booty with members of my company. (Currently under debate: Should we go for time or distance?)

I’ve committed to riding every Wednesday night with a group called “Mary’s Ride” that does anywhere from 26-35 mile rides. Last year I was at the middle/back of the “B” ride. I rode for the first time this past Wednesday and started with the C ride until I build up my leg muscles and my confidence.

I’m fortunate in that my company is filled with skilled cyclists and we usually head out once a week on a group ride. I’d like to average at least 60 miles a week this summer.

This is leading toward a goal of eventually training for an Ironman. Before I throw swimming in the mix, however, I’ll have to deal with the fact that I don’t like to get my hair wet.

Details, details. Happy Friday.



Shhh... (I May Be A Cyclist)

It’s no secret that I hate spin class. (Written proof here.) I have forced myself to grind through a handful of the “Up! Down! Tighten the tension! Power up the hill!”  pontifications of overly cheery spin instructors who do not seem to understand that at any given point in a spin class I am on the verge of either giving up or throwing up or both.

Which is why I fought getting a road bike. The only reason I did get a road bike is because completing a half-ironman (oh okay, you know me, a full ironman) is on the bucket list. The fact that I neither swim nor bike, however, makes this something of a stretch goal.

So when my dear friends Don and Kathi (both Ironmen competitors) offered to loan me an old road bike of Don’s, I reluctantly agreed. Don spent an hour fitting me to the bike and then they sent me on my way.

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