Before the Race

Last week's Japan Day race was, hands down, the worst race ever. 

The day before, I managed to fill up on chips and dip (and some beer) at a friend's birthday party.  I knew it wasn't the best idea, but it was only a 4 mile race, so I thought it would be ok.  It was too hot out to eat real food, anyway.  I went to bed early, but it was too hot to sleep.  My dog couldn't sleep, either.  I "woke up" feeling gross. 

The humidity was about 97% and it was still hot.  I decided it was too hot to wear my lucky hat.  I remembered those great races at the beginning of the year, when it was 5 degrees out.  I missed those days. 

During the race, all around me, people were walking.  I had never been tempted to walk in any race, including the half-marathon I did in March, but I was feeling pretty faint.  And, when I hit 2.5 miles, I walked.  I started running again after a while, but you can't un-walk.

In an hour and a half, I'm running a 10K.  I'm trying not to think about last week too much, but ... 

I had pasta last night and went to bed early.  I woke up early enough to have breakfast before the race.  I've made a new playlist.  I'm not forgetting my GuChomps or my water bottle today.  And I'm definitely not leaving my lucky hat at home.

Wish me luck!

-Gym Belle-

A Foreign Gym

When I was twenty, I spent two months in St. Petersburg. I lived with a 60 year old widow, Galya, and her 25 year old son, Andrei. Galya was an excellent cook. To this day, I have not tasted anything to rival her pizza. Nevertheless, knowledge of her standard ingredients literally gave me nightmares. I had never seen so much oil, cream and butter (often together). I couldn't not eat my host-mother's cooking, but I feared for my waistline.

It took me about a week to come up with a two-fold solution. First, I gave up public transportation. It was a nightmare to navigate anyway, and half the time it didn't run properly, so that wasn't much of a sacrifice. I walked everywhere, including to my internship and back. I probably walked for at least two hours a day.

Second, I decided to join a gym. In the years that followed, Russia would experience a western-style fitness boom, but, in 1999, my options were fairly limited. My host-mother took me to look at two gyms near our apartment. I quickly decided on the swanky new one. It was large and Equinox-esque. There were aerobics classes, saunas and a spa in addition to the weight rooms. I settled in quickly.  I was thrilled to discover that "step" was a universal language. I spent a lot of time on the treadmill. I used the abductor/adductor machines. It was familiar.

My St. Petersburg gym was quite pricey by Russian standards. At a time when the ruble really wasn't worth much (good opera tickets cost me about $3.00), the gym cost me around $60 a month. That was about what my gym back here cost me at the time (NH, not NY). This wasn't a gym for the average joe; it was a gym for the rich. My understanding was that money in St. Petersburg meant mafia. I can't vouch for the accuracy of my perception, but, at the time, I didn't doubt it. I decided that chilling in the sauna with mafia girlfriends was educational. They were very entertaining. Occasionally, I felt guilty for flaunting my relative wealth in front of my host-mother. For the most part, though, I remember feeling as though I didn't have a choice if I wanted to go to the gym.

The gym that I had ruled out right away was a single room with blue mats on the floor an a slight musty odor. There were barbells and free weights. There was a pull-up bar or two and not much else in terms of equipment. I didn't see any women when we visited. I don't think I even considered working out there. Had that been the only option, I probably would have scrapped the gym idea entirely. That place wasn't what I meant by a "gym."

All this came back to me on Saturday as I walked home from Crossfit Metropolis. Crossfit Metropolis is located two flights up above an auto mechanic shop. There are black rubber mats on the floor. It has barbells, kettle bells and medicine balls. There are pull-up bars. Saturday's workout involved shoulder presses, burpees and box jumps. There is a fan, but no AC. I wore shorts, and when we were done my legs were blackened from hitting the floor for the burpees. I was drenched from the exertion and the heat. I got some interesting looks as I walked home, past NYSC, past Equinox.

I made the right decision in St. Petersburg. I would have been out of place at the other gym, and I wouldn't have known what to do. Everything else was foreign during my time in Russia; I was entitled to take comfort in the familiarity of my American gym routine. Still, it's interesting that while I thought nothing of traveling to Russia alone to live with strangers, a grungy gym was too foreign to contemplate.

These days, I don't get to travel like I used to and routine abounds. I wouldn't go so far as to suggest that Crossfit Metropolis is foreign. Despite it's aesthetic and philosophies, it's filled with bankers. And it would be a stretch to say that exploring new gyms truly satisfies my wanderlust. Still, it wouldn't have occurred to my twenty-year-old self to set foot in Crossfit. So, what I can say is that I'm grateful to have local unchartered territory to explore, to recognize those opportunities when I see them, and to be in a place to do it.

-Gym Belle-

Yes, I am Walking Funny.

This time, the pain is all my fault. 

After six weeks of oscillating between comfortably numb and someone-shoot-me-now, I woke up Monday morning feeling pinched-nerve-pain free.  I decided to celebrate by heading up to Crossfit Metropolis to work out. 

There were five of us in Monday night's class and - get this - two other women, the taller of whom claimed to be 5'3".  The three of us shared our very own munchkin-height rack.  It was so nice not to have to constantly adjust.   

Monday's workout of the day had two parts.  First, we did five rounds of five back squats.  The second half of the workout was a half Cindy: as many rounds of 10 pull-ups, 20 push-ups and 30 squats as you can squeeze into 10 minutes.  The back squats were where I went overboard.  I worked my way up to 80 lbs for the last two rounds.  I knew when I was doing it that it was overkill to back-squat 80% of my body weight my first day back.  That didn't stop me, though.  I was just so happy that I could do it.

Not surprisingly, I shredded my quads.  It's now Wednesday night and I'm still ridiculously sore.  I'm literally waddling around and stairs are nearly impossible.  I haven't been able to work out since Monday.

Perhaps this is pathetic, but I'm honestly ok with the pain.  After six weeks of taking it easy, struggling through pilates with 2 lb weights and modifying just about every workout I did, it felt good to come back hard.  I don't mind the battle scars.  Don't worry, though.  I don't plan on making this a habit.

-Gym Belle-