The Triathlon Rx

It may have been the path that originally lead you to my blog in the first place, but I’m sure there are others of you who didn’t know….!

In addition to The Triathlon Rx, I am also a writer for:

… where you can find me every Thursday, and

… where I post as often as I’m clever enough to come up with something good! (Kidding. Kinda…. )

Anywho, I try really hard not to double-dip. That is, post something both here and and also on another site I write for. However, I occasionally to suffer from transient monotony, and therefore once in a while you will see a double post. As in today…

(To see the original post, or check out my awesome Groucho Teammates, go HERE to check out the company!!)

Groucho Blogger Erika: Arctic Tundra

Well guys… I have some sad news for you.

It looks like Minnesota is going to get a winter after all… 

Unlike some of our cryophilic friends here at Groucho Sports, I would rather spend three months in a toaster oven than venture out into the sub-zero tundra of a true Minneapolis winter. Year after year, I ask myself why WHYY [insert man on knees shaking his hand towards heaven in rage] do I still live in this frozen state? But then after 3… 5… 7 months of cold… the snow eventually melts. Flowers sneak their little heads up through the ground. Easter – my favorite day of the year – comes and I find this transient sense of forgiveness for our state and its far-too-long season of frozen.

Given that we’ve been cut some slack this year – people running in shorts and biking outside in January – I felt it fair to turn down my degree of displeasure. So this winter, as my offering of thanks, I vow [/make] to do the following:

Though obviously not with my “good” bikes…

How fun would it be to come outside to ‘Mater on your windshield? Even more fun if you have a 4 year old. 

Reader Qs:

What do you do to make winter “more fun”? And how the duck do you keep your fingers warm!?!? If I had a box of Cocoa Puffs for every pair of gloves or mittens I’ve gone through to find “the one” …. I’d be coo coo, and drowning.

-E

Dear Yoga Instructor wearing Aladdin Pants*, ***

I will be honest with you – I really don’t love yoga to begin with.  But in attempts to appease my coach, I do put out my finest effort to attend class one time per week. In fact, I sought far and wide for months on end, solely to find the perfect instructor. Oh this wonderful woman, bless her heart. As this is not Acts 2 in which we are enabled to converse in many tongues, nor do we all live in Uttarakhand, she refrains from speaking in pure Sanskrit. She makes us work, because that’s what a workout typically strives to accomplish. She does not whisper for us to relax while assuming “happy baby”, because I am slightly past the infantile stage, and remember? I did come here to work out.

But today, my dear friend clad in the trousers of Aladdin, she was not here. And instead I found you. Ill-mannered, offensive, tactless – these are not atributes I like to associate with myself. So I decided to remain upon my mat of imminent doom and wait it out. You could in fact have been quite similar to my wonderful instructor who does not end every single word with –sana, or blow sweet hot breath in my ear. However, it was quickly apparent that you indeed were not.

Your opening chant – which I am quite sure carried on for roughly 37 minutes, though the studio sanctuary clock insisted only took 2 – should have been my cue to say Punardarśanāya Sucka!! But no. In fact, you seemed to be so entrhalled, so mezmorized, during that that 37 minutes sans oxygen brief hymn, that I decided to come home and translate. I was simply dying to know of this magic placed upon me. This is what I came to find:

I bow to the lotus feet of the guru
who awakens insight into the happiness of pure Being,
who is the final refuge, the jungle physician,
who eliminates the delusion caused by the poisonous
herb of samsara [conditioned existence].

I prostrate before the sage Patanjali
who has thousands of radiant, white heads
[in his form as the divine serpent, Ananta]
and who has, as far as his arms,
assumed the form of a man holding a conch shell [divine sound],
a wheel [discus of light, representing infinite time]
and a sword [discrimination].

Though not quite sure where to begin tackling this sailors knot of nonsense, I will send my regrets to the sage/serpent/man holding a seashell with many heads/swoards/arms/wheels. I will not be consuming any poisonous samsara, and he will not be receiving my bow.

When you asked me to look to the sky (while indoors) and relax my eyeballs, I wanted to ask you to relax your jaw and clock you in the face. It should be known that you must in fact contract your superior rectus in order to move your eyeball in an upwards direction. To the particle board ceiling. Sans[ana] any clouds.

I understand that it is hot in your sanctuary, which may cause you to become a tad loopy. Perhaps this is not your typical conduction of this sacred practice of breathing in through both nostrils while holding the glottis partially closed. Perhaps you don’t truly believe we are changing the world by acquiring ustrasna, for it more closely resembles a stripper than a camel. Perhaps you don’t frequently burglarize young lads by the name of Aladdin for his single pair of pants. Perhaps you simply thought – damn yo, those pants are hot! – and went to Joann Fabrics to construct a pair for yoruself.

I part from you, Yoga Instructor Wearing Aladdin Pants, with a small request: to simply notify me next time your nadi(s) – your great yogic nerves conveying the life force; Ida, Pingala and Sushumna – will be occupying this particular studio on this day at this time. I will reserve this spot in the sanctuary for one of your fellow yoginis, and kindly refrain from assuming Virabhadrasana [warrior pose] and sending an arrow in your direction.

Santi out, homeboy. Give those pants back before you go home.

-Erika

*Hopefully this goes without saying, but of course I have nothing against those who fully enjoy yoga, or practice it on a regular basis. This is not meant to offend anyone, and is intended to be taken with a grain of salt. As in the hahaha kind of salt. Mama always said you can’t be friends with everybody**, and Yoga, you and I just ain’t gonna work out.

**OK, she never really told me that. She should have though.

*** Credit to my inspiration and consistent, loyal dose of laughter. http://www.mcsweeneys.net/

[TWSS. A quickie UPDATE that is...]

So I started writing this post (actually last Friday – there goes the Friday Confessional you wanted SteveQ) about the 5 Tried it Tuesdays I have stacked up… the two different Medical Mondays that were started but saved as drafts (Jaime’s Q about muscle knots and Erika’s about TFL/hip flexors)… and I never got the chance to finish it. Surprise, right? Well luckily, I had lots of waiting time between multiple doc / radiology appointments today. And being the studious girl I am… I brought my lap top to look for housing do some work.

Crack open the McMac, and (after browsing the new housing listings in West Calhoun/Isles) made my way over to Dr.TR to finally finish one of these drafted posts. Which happened to be this post. After a little editing to compensate for the fact that we are now three days past the day I started, I thought I was done. I gave it a once-over to check for grammar, and I kid you not, the song Cry Me a River by that studly Justin Randall Timberlake came on my ipod. Fitting, because the post essentially sounded like poor me, I’m busy, too busy for my own good. Yep… you can put those cricket sized violins down.

So I deleted it, and started from scratch. Which brings you to what you’re reading now.

I’m busy. We’re all busy. It’s the start of a new school year, and if you’re still digging your financial grave via the education game, you get it. If you’re past that time in your life… you were likely there once. And if you’ve truly never been ‘that’ busy… bring your butt over here and help me fold laundry. This combination of training + work + school at first seemed to me to be a little overwhelming. Until I thought two steps further and realized that there are people out there who do all of that PLUS they are parents PLUS they take their kids to soccer practice/swim lessons/Lego club PLUS cook meals for the family PLUS have energy at the end of the night to …..

(Just checkin if you’re paying attention. And I was kidding about Lego club. )

The point of this post? You’re going to see a little less of me right now. And when you do see me, you’re going to see stuff like this:

In regards to the above statement, I truly LOVE my job, which is why I’m OK with it taking “away” so many of my free hours. If I’m going to be busy as hell and feel like I never have time to “get anything done” … at least it’s because I’m busy doing something I love!!

Reader Q:

Complete this sentence. “I feel the most alive when I _________________________.”

I’ll start. I feel the most alive when I am running on crunchy fallen leaves on ‘my’ trail.

Go

.

..

…

-E

They say “All good things must come to an end.” Well, no… let’s not play that he said/she said game. Somewhere around 1374, Geoffrey Chaucer actually stated something closer to, “There is an end to everything, to good things as well.”

As August is speeding past faster than the Tokyo bullet train (shinkansen!!) I suddenly found myself with this wrinkled forehead, this sense of tension. The second I finally felt as though I was getting into the swing of things – a “new normal” and something good – I realized it’s all going to change. To come to an end. Within minutes, my (type A+) mind built a mile-long TO DO: list of all things still needing to be done before the start of the fall semester.

Go pick up books. [Attempt to] sell past years’ text books. Pay for UPass. Rent rec center locker. Figure out student loan situation. Figure out CAR loan situation. Find [a used] new car. See grandparents. See cousins before they go back to school. Book ticket to see Dad, and please dear Lord before Christmas! Finish redoing bedroom/paint/new bedroom furniture sets. Clean out old clothes. Yard sale. Haul 75% of things not sold at said yard sale to Good Will. Figure out school year employment. Figure out how to combine school year employment/training/full-time-STUDENT (aka, primary reason I’m paying to get an education….) What am I going to do post-kinesiology. Pre-med vs. Physical Therapy. And what the heck, I didn’t even say make time for God?!

And I wasn’t even going to write that list but it all just came out, like my lemonade was spiked with a literary emetic.

But then I stopped, and remembered the action of exhalation. And in the same two-seconds it took to grow that list, I came to three important understandings.

1. I found a new normal. I struggled with being “thrown off” without running. I wallowed in my pity-party-of-one for a good minute a week long enough. I thought about what I can do. I got my attitude in check. I made changes. And look at me… I made progress.

2. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. (Philippeans 4:13) And by all things I do not mean that I get to create this monstrous* to-do list, and then say, Aright homes – show me your love. I mean that whatever struggles I may face in the material world, I have Christ’s strength backing me, guiding me, and helping me through. I have faith that I will accomplish whatever needs to be done, and what doesn’t will fall to the wayside. I tend to create more anxiety over smaller issues, which in turn stops me from taking in the whole picture. It’s that mountains out of molehills thing… I’ve never even seen a mole for goodness sakes. No matter how wrink-frickin-finkled my forehead gets, I will get through it.

(* I am attempting to eliminate the word “epic”, or at least the misuse of it, from my vocabulary. Call me out if I slip up.)

3. Did I really just say I wasn’t making time for God? No. There are weeks where I stress myself out about not making time to go to mass. Not making time to read and study the bible. But then I stop, and remember the walk I took around the lake… chatting with the Man the whole way. I remember the long drives we take and the jokes and heart-to-hearts that pass the time. (You know when you see someone pulled up next to you, think they’re talking to themselves, and then realize they have one of those cell-phone ear piece things? No… I don’t. You just can’t see my home boy in the passenger seat. No biggie.) I remember that my relationship with Christ is not something I “make time” for. It’s something that is present all the time. I don’t, can’t, and don’t want to separate the IT from me. And I don’t know why I felt the need to put this out there on my running/triathlon/medicine/college life blog, but here I am. Roll.

To explain my current state of being, you could combine Jay Z’s 99 Problems and Matthew West’s More. Hmm… on second thought, lets leave them separate.

So what did I just accomplish in this way-too-long amount of time it took me to write this? Well for one, that wrinkle in my forehead is gone. 99 Problems on repeat tends to have that effect. For two (alright, I’m going back to school. Secondly…) I really did drink a Nalgene full of lemonade… but I promise there was no emetic involved. The word-vomit just happens sometimes. And thirdly, I think Chaucer was maybe just having a bad day. Yeah, you could say “all [good] things come to an end” … but you could also say all good things have gotta’ start somewhere. I’m excited to go back to school. I’m excited about these musculos. I’m excited about my new goals and even the minimal bit of running I get to do right now. I’m excited about the “new normal” of human physiology and sports psychology this fall. I’m excited about life, because I know you only get out what you put in…

So I ask you not what is coming to an end, but what are you starting?

-E

Link sponsored by CSN Stores, which has over 200+ sites and a selection of items for just about everything. I am excited that they are an awesome company, and helping me with the start of something good. Stick around and you’ll have a chance to too!

Last weekend I somehow stumbled upon a post on CNN about tricks parents told their kids to get them to eat certain foods. Ok… they used the word “lies” … but “tricks” to me sounds at least semi-honest. The actual post had some funny stuff (“Brussle sprouts will make you grow hair on your chest” ?!?) , it was the comment section that really made it. There was a lengthy debate about the physiological response to hot drinks on a hot day, and lots of laughable confessions from parents just trying to get their little tayder-tots to pick a healthy snack. You can find the original post HERE but here are some of my favorite highlights:

Susan
“What about “eat your vegetables, starving children in (insert country here) would die for those vegetables”

REPLY
Jason
“I always told my parents I would pay the postage.”

Andrew
“My mom would say eat three bites and if you still don’t want it you don’t have to eat it. ……”

[That was definitely a rule in my house!! And I'm pretty sure I was the only 5 year old who'd pick seconds on asparagus and not dessert!]

Tracy
“When I was very little my mom told me you couldn’t chew gum until you were 21. It worked for a few years. I stopped asking for gum!”

Grondahl
“I’m starting my toddler early. Anything that’s out of bounds is “Hot!” Candy bars, stove tops, dishwashers, cookies, edible or not, they’re all “Hot!” We’ll see how long he goes without developing a complex.

REPLY
LSbloo
“Careful with that one or once he realizes that cookies aren’t hot he may figure the stove isn’t either.”

Elyssa
When I was a toddler, I wouldn’t eat fish. So my parents told me it was ocean meat and I ate it.
My dad told me all sorts of food would put hair on my chest. Luckily I knew he wasn’t serious because I certainly didn’t want hair on my chest.
I told my son that the ice cream truck was the music truck. His jaw dropped open when he was two and saw kids at the park getting ice cream from the music truck. I had to tell him the truth then.

Kat220
“A neighbor used to tell her sons that when the ice cream man played music that he was out of ice cream. My mom always says she wishes she had thought of that.”

girlwonder
“My parents used a lot of these on us, so it’s been very entertaining reading through all of these. My kids were small when the ‘Land Before Time’ baby dinosaur movies were popular. I always served them raw baby spinach leaves for dinner, and told them they were ‘tree stars’, the favorite food of the baby dinosaurs. The kids were so happy to have a pile of these leaves they ate them right up. They are 14 & 20 now, so they don’t believe me anymore, but they still eat their spinach raw & say they will tell their kids the same thing.”

[I LOVED this one because I was hooked on Land Before Time. Any time I had to stay home from school sick, my dad would let me pick up a movie (and a 12 pack of diet ginger ale). I rotated between My Neighbor Totoro and the Land Before Time series… ahhhh memories.

Tree stars!!!

OK…. sorry – this is obviously nothing Dr.TriRunner related, but it was fun.

READER QUESTION: What “tricks” did your parents tell you as a kid to get you to eat certain foods? Mom – if you’re reading this one… what am I missing? I know I went through a picky stage, but both my sister and I were pretty good about eating our peas!!

Catch you guys soon. Despite my lengthy absence, I do have several posts ready to go! Wishing you all the best,

-E