Mini Grant - my experience at the gym Part 2

I am training for a triathlon.  My first ever.  For those of you not familiar...there are three parts to a triathlon.  Swim. Bike. Run.  In that order.

A little secret...

Barb doesn't know how to swim.  Most friends say I was abused as a child.  "Your mom didn't teach you how to swim?"  

"You didn't take swimming lessons?"

"Didn't your grandparents own a cabin on Diamond Lake?"

Yes..yes and yes.

So, I am now 41 and am getting ready to take swimming lessons for the first time.  I signed up for a triathlon so I would learn how to swim.  Because really...it is unsafe.  I love the water.  I love to doggy paddle.  I love the idea of feeling muck and seaweed in between my toes while getting hit on top of the head and body by other swimmers all while racing to some point in the lake where I then turn around to swim back and do it all over again.  

It is a sprint triathlon.  In fact today, I did a brick - I did the bike and run portion of the race for the first time.

The reason I can do this is two fold:

1.  I have a best friend (Angela Brown) who signs me up for these things.

2.  I have a person trainer (Grant Smith) who places me in situations like this one.

Allow me to explain my leg day at the gym on Friday.

I love to get my trainer up real early.  Even though I pay him for his services, he complains he loses beauty sleep so he pays me back by placing me in urban exercise routines.

Step 1:  It's called the sled.  I get on a treadmill which is unplugged.  He places his foot on the back while burning his toe (yes, I look like a Clydesdale running up hill).  In fact, at one point, I sounded like a horse.

Step 2:  Proceed to the stationary bike.  I think the resistance goes to 25.  Well, he started me on 25 and then to 20, back to 25, oh wait, or was that 20.  Grant decided my quads needed to "lean out."  I inherited by father's thighs.  

Step 3:  Tire turns outside:  My gym is next to a day care.  You ask, "what does this have anything to do with tire turning."  The children decided to be voyeurs through the fence.

"What is she doing?"

"She's playing with a tire."

Mind you, it was a 200 lb tire...squat, lift, turn.  While the dirt destroyed my manicure...HELLO. 

Children:

"Go faster."

"She needs to bring it all the way over here."

"Hurry."

And, hence mini Grants.  Those children are mini Grants - they all want to be personal trainers.  Throwing about verbal demands, motivating me to obtain my goals and stating the obvious.

Grant was so proud...I think what would have made him even more proud had one of the little 6 year olds said, "squat lady!"

Lastly, the new name of an exercise I did to lean out my body.  It's called the hot mess.  Yes, the hot mess.  You can only imagine but here is what it looks like post hot mess...

Thank you to those five days at the gym and to those who have helped me along the way.  My triathlon is August 21.  I promise to begin my swimming classes next week.

What do they have in common: 38 degrees, What about Bob? and cotton kills

It's a nice Friday afternoon.  I beg and plead with my friend Megan to ride her bike outside with me.  Actually, it was her original idea a week before.

I know it's 38 degrees and I know there is a slight flurry in the air.  She texts me twice that day. 

Text #1 - happy hour instead? 

Text #2 - it's snowing.

Each time, I returned the messages with, 

Text #1 - go for it, I won't be joining you

Text #2 - so, we'll be fine.  

Funny thing about the two of us.  We both grew up in Spokane.  We've lived in the four seasons all of our lives.  And, we were both auto parts girls at Schuck's in our early 20s.  I'm quite sure, we can change the oil on our bikes if we needed to but change a flat, we'll we still need some extra lessons on that.

I will tell you I was prepared for the outdoors that day.  My outdoor buddy has taught me well.  How to layer. How to wear clothes. And, how "cotton kills."

We unloaded our bikes, got on the Fish Lake Trail and headed out for a nice 15 mile ride.  I'm pretty sure there was no one else on the trail except a few homeless people sleeping in the trees.  

But, not after we came through.  

That day, we were getting out our pent up frustration, our Friday fiery and our fancy Fuji's (not to be confused with apples) were ready to ride fast.

I love to ride.  Megan is just starting.  I would say instead of LOVE...it's more like LO and after we rode that day, she was off to REI for appropriate gear.  

You see,  she wore $5 half gloves (her fingers were frozen), a Chinese cotton blend coat (remember cotton kills) and her ears were as a red as the first sunburn of the summer season.

There is something you can do when you are cold and you have options.

Ride faster.  

Raise your voice.  

Both.

Yes, yell at the top of your lungs like Bob in What about Bob?  You remember that 1991 movie, where a successful psychiatrist loses his mind after one of his most dependent patients, a highly manipulative obsessive-compulsive, tracks him down during his family vacation. 

Let's just say, Megan and I had Tourette's.  It felt really good.  Better than good. Fantastic even.

So, what do 38 degrees + What about Bob?  + cotton kills have in common =  combined they make a phenomenal stress reliever

Thanks Pigs, I had a great ride.