Converting Hot Flashes into Athletic Prowess

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I’ve joked about losing my grip on the slippery rope of youth. I ride my bicycle because I love it, but deep down I want it to keep me young. I swim because I love it, but deep down, I want it to keep me young and slim and lithe. When I run, I don’t really love it, but after the first mile or so, I forget about the twinges in my ankle, the knees don’t bug me as much, and I sink into my zone of breathing and keeping cadence with my feet, lost in my thoughts. Before I know it, I’m done, and I’m very glad I’ve done it. Why? Because I think it will keep me young.

I want to fill my ring with event numbers!

Running hurts. It hurts an hour or two after I’m done, it hurts for days. But, because I’m in Brad Gansberg’s #10kin100days program and run every other day, I get back out there whether I’m hurting or not. Once I find my groove, the pain fades. I like that. I am starting to like it a lot.

As I write this beads of sweat are forming on my skull, beneath my curls, and dripping down my forehead and into my eyes. My arms, including my hands, are sparkling with sweat. My torso is generating so much heat I wish we could convert it to reduce our electricity bill. And all I’m doing here is sitting at my laptop typing.

A year ago, I was getting hot flashes but then they stopped after about four months. Frankly, not getting a period all that time was pretty awesome. When I did get it, sometime last summer, I remember I was in the bathroom at work.

“Oh, SH^T.”

I’m pretty sure whoever was in there knew what was up. I was gravely disappointed. That monthly cycle sucked from the time I was 13 when I first got my period. I never had cramps, but I did get horrendous headaches, so it was nice not enduring that, too. And sure, I had a heck of a time conceiving and holding on to babies, but eventually that all sorted itself out.

Four years ago when John decided to pursue his marathon dream, I encouraged him but I had no intention of participating. He got me on a bicycle and I was happy with that. I didn’t want to do anything else. But then, I was a pretty good swimmer, so I got back into that. Then, last summer when I was in the swim and spin in the Na Wahine Festival, and won my age group, I thought that MAYBE, just MAYBE I’d see if I could start to run.

Baby steps. I was in no hurry. If I wanted to compete in triathlon events, then I figured the training would help. And I would enter to complete, not so much to compete. But many people know I’m quite competitive. To a fault.

This month I’ve done a 5k and an 8k, thanks to John and my friend Stacy Hernandez, a woman who runs like a gazelle and always places on the podium. This year I’m going to be in another 5k, a 10k, a half-marathon, the ANA Lanikai Triathlon, the Haleiwa Metric Century, maybe some rough water swims, the Na Wahine Festival, and the Honolulu Marathon.

This year of liberating change, when my body sheds its maternal purpose, I can convert it into anything I wish: Healthy and athletic, sexy and fun, wild and crazy, inquisitive and inspiring. I’d like to think I’m already all that! The last period is not the end.

Double Workout Day

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@postaday 368; #postaday2011. I know we’re spoiled living here in Hawaii. Our blood thins in the tropics, and when the temperature dips to 73 degrees, I’m reaching for my iPhone because I want to know how cold it is! Lately, … Continue reading →

My Struggle.

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A reward for an evening run is a spectacular sunset. I always take a few minutes to take some pics with my iPhone.

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@postaday 370; #postaday2011. My struggle isn’t really just my struggle. It’s a struggle for many of us. And I’m not talking about the teeny weenie size 0-1-3-5-7-9s, and all sizes in between, who lament how fat they are. Time out … Continue reading →

A Year-Long Love Letter.

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@postaday 371; #postaday2011.

Dear Reader:

I did it! More than a year of writing blog entries here at lavagal.net. I figured out a few technical things to make the site more accessible, I added art whenever I could, I tried to put in words what I felt might be what you’d enjoy reading. I did everything I could to get you to come back, to read, to look at me again.

It isn’t quite an addiction, but more of a sense that I was obligated to deliver. I made a promise to myself that I would write here every day. At first no one came to see, but after a while, I was getting more than 25 hits a day. That excited me! Now I get more than 50 a day, and I am humbled by that. It makes me feel that I really need to write, and write the truth, even if it embarrasses me. And on those days when I phoned it in, I worried that no one would ever come back and read me again.

Earlier this year I had a conversation with someone about how reading is so satisfying to people. So what must it be like to write something that people want to read? What does someone feel when they read what I write and like it?

When you read a book you like, when you latch onto a columnist you admire, when you devour a series and crave more, who is to say it’s any different than craving potato chips, chocolate, or to secretly gaze at someone without them knowing it? It is interesting to me that I can write and I can convey a message, and I can convey a subliminal message the written words dance around, and that only a select audience will feel their eyes soften, a warmth rise in their chest, and they’ll possibly hold that thought a little longer, maybe forever.

I’m certainly not done. I do think I’ll be venturing beyond the safety of navel gazing, and stretch myself to free fall out of my comfort zone, to risk writing wildly into your hearts, because it all boils down to love.

Love,
me.

The #5kin100days Graduation Run

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Today's rainbow ended in my garage refrigerator where a bottle of Bass Ale awaited me.

@postaday372; #postaday2011.

Tonight I finished my #5kin100days week 14 day 3 workout. Do I look like I’ve been running three times a week for the last 14 weeks? Probably not. Does running and bicycling make your ass grow? Probably. But so does stuffing your face. Argh. I did get to the point where, at work, I declined more than half of what is offered. People were merciless when it came to holiday snacks. Not just cookies. Sausage rolls, cheese, crackers, malasadas, manapua, fried rice, pies, cakes, you name it. No salads or vegetable plates. Sigh. I guess that’s what it took for me to stay away from the snack cube.

Tonight I walked my first 10 minutes, got on Anahola in Portlock, and started my “run.” I made an effort to move my legs faster. I know not to increase my stride, because that’s where I’d get into trouble. Older runners are told to not stretch the stride but to increase the pace. That I did. And when I got done with my run, I had to walk a little bit to get back to point A. My pace was slightly better than yesterday: 14:50 pace per mile. Yup, slow going. Another sigh.

When I got to the end of my first 17-minute segment, I turned around on Kalanianaole Highway to head back home and saw a gorgeous rainbow from Hahaihone to Koko Crater. It looked like it could have ended at my house where there were a couple of Bass Ales waiting for me, of which I only had one. Should I again ask the question about the size of my ass? LOL. I didn’t stop until I got to Lunalilo Home Road and Kaumakani Street, where I got to walk up the hill a little bit to my start.

Next is my graduation run. Brad Gansberg doesn’t tell us how much time to spend running, but to run the 5k straight. He says we’re running a 5k now anyway. Just go for it and take it easy. I shall do my graduation run on Sunday, after my morning bicycle ride. I’ll probably do the route I did today. John will join me.

On 01/01/12, I’ll log in my graduation run and it will ignite within me the desire to run from point A to point B no matter where that B might be, to write all that I wish to write, and to be all that I dream I can be. And to be a good mom, a good wife, a good employee, and a good friend. Being healthy does seem to help the rest of the wannabes fall into place.

Good Riddance to 2011.

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You might need something to hold onto/ When all the answers they don't amount to much/ Somebody that you could just talk to/ And a little of that human touch... part of a great song written by Rick Springfield, fabulously sung by Bruce Springsteen.

@postaday 373; #postaday2011.

The End.

Gosh sakes, OK, this is totally fueled by sparkling wine, my drug of choice, Barefoot Bubbly, Brut, silver label. What can I say? I’m a cheap date. However, I’ll fully enjoy the Roederer Estate tomorrow with the family.

Yay. The end of the must-do blog commitment! Yay, the beginning of the want-to-do blog commitment! I am addicted to the daily missive, the hits, the feedback, and the possibility that I might connect with someone on a richer than superficial level. There’s this guy, somewhere on the East Coast, I think in Boston, who always, always, always likes my entries. Flippin’ hippy dude blows my mind. I love him!  Know him? Hellas no! But that’s what this is all about. Connecting with people on a level that cuts through the physical and meets some where in the virtual. Kinda like souls beyond earth. Ya know?

And then somehow, 33 people or so have decided to subscribed. Wow! And to each of them I say this: Geeze. Please don’t just read the emailed entry as it seems I am always editing after I publish. I love you. Go read the entry as it is on the actual lavagal.net. Why? Because the typos and the embarrassing grammatical errors are repaired. MOST of the time. But thank you, or as we say in these parts, MAHALO!

Now for a few fascinating facts. Actual factual information. Why? Because despite being a journalist who had set out to avoid numbers and statisics, I have encountered them at every turn in my life. It is laughable. The numbers, the stats, have overrrun me, they have conquered me, they have had their way with me, and I am overcome. Let me just say it’s been a joyful surrender. Almost like numbers as sex. LOL. Look. If you’re reading this, if you’ve ever read lavagal.net, then these stats are all about you: http://lavagal.net/2011/annual-report/

My blog hits have grown. You’re interested, you’ve shared, you’ve commented. I feel like I am one of those bloggers who has made her mark, who has put the scratch and dent in the virtual washer and dryer in this warehouse store called life. And yet, the entries that reaped the most hits are the ones I never wanted to write. Ryan Suenaga. Mary Kay Ritz. Did Verizon Give Me a Drug Dealer’s Phone Number? I got a lot of crap for that last one. A. LOT.

And if you’re one of those people who likes me on a different level, who reads me because of what I have to say about bicycling, swimming, running, surviving, being an athlete, fighting fat, desperately trying to retain her sexiness but feeling like it’s coated with Vaseline and slipping away so fast, and fighting back old-lady ‘hood, then here’s another set of stats from my Garmin site, and this is all my bicycle riding for 2011:

Progress Summary Report for lavagal
Count: 76 Activities
Distance: 2,029.54 mi
Time: 144:34:34 h:m:s
Elevation Gain: 44,990 ft
Avg Speed: 14.0 mph
Avg HR: 142 bpm
Avg Run Cadence: –
Avg Bike Cadence: 65 rpm
Calories: 45,865

I’ve done my best for you. Best wishes in 2012. See you then?

Love,
me.

Ocean Therapy

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Kid1's found art composition: Head in the Sand.

After I was through with my bicycle ride yesterday, and after John was through with his run, we loaded up the van and took the girls to a beach that’s less than a mile from our home. We unwrapped a beginner surfboard we bought the girls more than two years ago, pre Achilles tendon burst. We also dragged out my stand-up paddle board, my “SUP,” which had been used maybe half a dozen times before the accident.

After we set up the chairs, loaded John with the cameras, we Benderettes took to the sea. The girls were happily playing on the new board while I considered what I was about to do. Although I had been on my SUP a handful of times two years ago, I didn’t feel as though I had mastered it even then. So I got on it, first on my knees, and paddled around a little bit, mostly in a circle. A kind gentleman came over to tell John I was holding my paddle wrong. Oh, the logo goes OUT?

Paddling out with Kid2.

I got to my feet and wobbled a bit. The morning glass had given way to on-shore breezes, and mini wakes rocked me off the board a couple of times. I got back on my knees, paddled around a little bit more, and tried to get on my feet again. After a few tries, I had my sea legs back, I was flexing as the wavelettes tossed my board around, I paddled to shore, skirted the shoreline, and paddled back out a few more times. I did it! It felt like one of those back-on-the-bicycle, know-how-to-type-forever moments.

Shoreline imagination.

No one knows more than John how revitalizing a day at the beach can be for me. When I first came to Hawaii, I used to be one of those girls who surfed twice a day, working the graveyard shift  so I could paddle out whenever I wanted. All I needed was a sandwich, a surfboard, a bar of wax and a quarter-tank of gas to have a good day.

Eventually, I got to my feet and succeeded in SUPping around Maunalua Bay while the girls tried out the new surfboard.

After we were through, we went to the new Ramen-Ya at Hawaii Kai Towne Center. While we ate, the girls asked if I thought they were good surfers. They didn’t realize they actually weren’t surfers yet, but tooling around along the shore, taking turns standing and balancing on the board, and figuring out how to paddle, are really important things you need to know before  you cross the reef and the channel to take one’s place in the lineup. They’ll then need to learn a few of the social norms of surfing, unfortunately. I’ll teach them something that always worked for me: smile, be gracious, and get out of the water when it’s no longer fun. Sometimes the waves are so big that they are too scary and that’s no fun. Sometimes there’s a jerk surfer one has to endure. I’m sure there’s a metaphor in there somewhere.

One thing is for sure, there will be more ocean time for the Benderettes in 2012!

IRL, Not so Much.

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I love Twitter. I love Facebook. I think Linkedin is OK, but it’s more like a job board to me. I’m not digging Path so much. I love Instagram. I wish Hipster would update my Facebook page better, but Instagram is my favorite social photo app.

Keeping in touch with everyone through social media is just my speed. I get to do the things I need to do, I want to do, and I don’t have to get dressed up to meet anyone. Sure, there are some of you I really do love to see and I make an effort to have lunch with. There are some of you I wish I didn’t have to decline. But there are some of you whom I have found it to be uncomfortable with IRL.

Take the Internet superstar who’s avi is a dashing cartoon character who turned out to be like three feet tall as well as a 10-foot jerk. Take the chick with the sexy avatar who is aces with Photoshop. Take the guy who’s avi is all abs. Or the gal who is just boobs. Or the person who has been an egg from day one. Granted, some people don’t want us to see their real faces. They want to be unrecognized IRL. So if you want to sustain this fantasy for the rest of us, why oh why do you want to participate in tweet-up gatherings where the facade must fade away?

I get the alias view. Look at me! I’m a super hero on Twitter, but I wouldn’t want any of you to think I can fly. There are plenty of real pictures of me floating around the Internet and here on the blog. I’ve owned my looks for a long time now. I have the face of EXPERIENCE.

I’m shy and I’m not. I like that I can talk to strangers about anything if I want to know what’s going on. I like that I can be a journalist and approach people and ask questions for a story. I like that I can ride my bike, or run, or surf, or swim, and find a reason to connect with a fellow enthusiast.

Here is where I am what I am. I write what I feel and you may or may not respond or care. I am sheltered by this electronic curtain, much like the Wizard of Oz who was so easily diminished. I’m not here to be someone I am not; I am here to be as much of me as I can possibly be. And part of that should scratch the itch for those with whom I wish I could get together with but cannot. I know I should get out more, but my life is loaded.

I also think it’s kinda dopey to see all these people at an IRL gathering with their noses on their gadgets. What’s the point?

Enjoying Life in Hawaii

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The same rainbow. I took these pictures while John drove. It was so vivid. I'm surprised there aren't more car wrecks in Hawaii because of the daily rainbows.

When I first set foot on terra firma at Honolulu International Airport on July 14, 1981, I thought how lucky I was to be here. Each day since I have counted my blessings for getting to live in one of the nicest places on earth.

I look out the back door and see a beautiful avocado tree, a dormant volcano, a gorgeous blue sky punctuated by spectacular sunrises and sunsets, vivid rainbows, night-time shooting stars and a giant spot-light moon, egrets, kolea, cardinals, talkative myna birds, wild basil, vibrant bougainvillea, and sibling kitty cats who are our furry family members.

Giving Kid1 a briefing on stand-up paddle boarding.

This weekend was everything I love about Hawaii rolled into about 50 hours. On Thursday evening I went for a swim with my masters group at the Oahu Club (Doesn’t your weekend start on Thursday?). On Friday evening, I relaxed with a glass of wine after a Costco trip. On Saturday morning, I woke at the butt-crack of dawn to ride my bicycle from Koko Crater to Diamond Head and back. Always, always, always, I pause to take a few pictures. Later that day I took my daughters to Maunalua Bay where they played on their surfboard and I ventured out on my stand-up paddle board. We got home just as the sun was setting. It was a great, full day. The next day I woke up early and participated in my first race, Bob and Ron’s 5k, at Kapiolani Park. John has been running for more than three years now, and this was quite a milestone for me. I didn’t think I’d ever walk like a normal person, and here I am learning to run! And when I saw the finish line, I kicked up my pace a little bit and there was John and our friend Stacy cheering me through. It was so rewarding.

Yesterday at Makapu'u Scenic Point, the parking lot was full as was the sky!

After we were through with the run, John launched a 10-mile run because he needed to log in more miles. While the girls slept, I lugged out my SUP and had the bay’s morning glass to myself. It was a relaxing hour and a half where I didn’t have to keep my eye and mind on my daughters while I practiced paddling in the bay. And last night we had dinner at my in-laws to celebrate that sister-in-law from Iowa City was in town to present a paper at a linguistics conference. She made pesto and sweet potato fries for us with produce from her garden. I’m lucky in that my in-laws are so wonderful. I do not have weird in-laws. They let me take pictures of the sunset over the ocean out the lanai window as we are getting our evening started.

I have always been an ocean girl. When I first got my orders from the U.S. Air Force that I was to be stationed in Hawaii, I couldn’t believe my fortune. There isn’t a day I wake up and think to myself that I should be anywhere else.

I do not know if you are born and raised in  Hawaii if you have the same sense of gratitude that I have. I wonder if my own children will understand how beautiful it is to live here? I was born in Camden, N.J., and lived the first 11 years of my life in a row house in an economically challenged part of an economically challenged town. But I remember enjoying life as a little kid. The things I didn’t enjoy, thankfully, fade away into those worn and frayed memories that disintegrate when you try to touch them. Part of my mission is to be sure my own daughters have memories they enjoy instead of those that scar the heart.

Hawaii’s Darker Side.

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Hawaii has rainbows, and its share of rough spots, too.

On the heels of writing how lucky I am to live in Hawaii, I am reminded of Hawaii’s darker side. In fact, recent interactions inspired today’s blog post.

It is because of my fortune to have grown into my profession as a writer, and because of my love for the ocean, the valleys, the summits, and the beaches, that I love it here in Hawaii. It’s because of the relationships I have cultivated, my marriage, and my family. Each day I feel gratitude for all of that. Key to enjoying life in Hawaii is a social support system. It is family. It is friends. It is also being sensible and responsible.

Honestly, I do not know Hawaii’s dark side. I only see it. I drive by it, I quickly walk by slumbering figures on the sidewalk as I tip toe around stinky wet spots and make my way to work in the pre-dawn darkness. I have seen some horrible things in Hawaii, too horrible to describe. Surely Hawaii doesn’t have a lock on that sort of thing. I just think the year-round pleasant weather makes it more visible to those of us who live here.

And it makes it visible to those who visit. It’s embarrassing, actually, that rubbish has not been picked up in Waikiki and along the Ala Wai Canal yet this year. There has always been pollution floating around the Ala Wai Canal, and the harbor often looks like a cesspool. Waikiki, supposedly Hawaii’s jewel, is quite tarnished with litter and squatters who occupy the gazebos between Kalakaua Avenue and the beach. Years ago I used to go to Waikiki everyday to surf or to hang out with friends. But now I don’t ever go unless there’s an event.

After I got out of the Air Force and became a ciivilian with a job in the mid 1980s, I was checking out the waves at Ala Moana Beach Park and noticed a guy digging through the trash can next to me. It was a former roommate. We locked eyes and he took off. We didn’t have the best relationship. He was always in conflict with others, his employer, his roommates or his neighbors. It was sad to see him in this state, but, it wasn’t surprising. I remember him ranting about his job and here he was without one.

No matter where we live, to function in society we have to step up and do our part. We get a job where we need to be resilient each day, we pay for shelter, we take care of ourselves and we take care of others. Enjoying life is a benefit of working at a job one loves, living in a home we care for, spending time with friends, finding that one special person with which to lock hearts.

Surely there are people who have fallen through the cracks. Some come to Hawaii to look for work and never get a job. There are those who drop out of families and society and become scavengers who skirt life in the shadows. They resist relationships, they turn within and their minds lock into a psychosomatic cycle of paranoia and resentment. It is a sad thing to witness.

Living in Hawaii, just like living in Portland, or New York City, or Los Angeles, or London, or Tokyo, isn’t for everyone. But life should be an adventure. There should be risk and excitement. I think jumping without a bungee cord is foolish, but it works for some people. I prefer the assurance that a safety net exists, that there are options and alternatives. I’ve been fortunate. There have been times when I have faltered, yet my family and friends have always been there to right my bruised ego and tell me to try again. Just one of those things I will always appreciate.

Why did I write this? With more frequency it seems that crazy, stinky, homeless people ask me for money, want to talk to me, want to walk with me, want to spend time with me. I think it’s because I’m not intimidating. I’m generally approachable. In fact, when this happens to me, I try to shut down, I hide behind my sunglasses, I look straight ahead. It is an adjustment toward insensitivity I make that breaks my heart a little bit each time it happens. I do it to protect myself. One of those reality bites.

Kona Winds, Vog, Hawaii Paragliding Association

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Paragliders make faces in the sky above Diamond Head Lookout.

I know it’s not nice to whine about the weather in Hawaii. But in the winter we sometimes experience Kona breezes — hot, muggy, winds from the south that deliver high humidity and vog, aka, volcanic haze. I don’t think any of us actually like being hot and sticky with stuffy noses and, for those of us with asthma, coughs that make us sound like we’re hacking up Hawaiian hair balls.

For more information visit www.windlines.net.

Here’s a video of a few guys in the sky.

Here’s a video of a perfect landing.

When we took off to run from Kapiolani Park, John and I shared our plans. He was to go on to Triangle Park in Kahala, I was to run for 15 minutes, and then run back. I ran up to my half-way point for my weekend bicycle ride, the bridge that looks down at the surfing breaks at Diamond Head. I decided to run there, which actually took me 16 minutes for my 2.1 run for my #10kin100days program. I took some pix and then headed back to the park.

Both times I passed a group of guys sitting on the wall. They were easy going, friendly, having a good time, not smoking, not drunk, not stupid. Haha. They were very pleasant and I felt like they were very nice as I ran by both times. By the time I made it back to the car, John had caught up with me and we drove back in the direction of Diamond Head Lookout. That’s when we spotted the paragliders. And that’s when I realized that these nicer-than-average guys were them! John found a parking space and we took some pics and video.

Like I said, they were really friendly and lots of fun. Normally I see paragliders when I ride my bicycle to Makapu’u Lookout, but today, thanks to the lousy Kona-wind conditions, they were at Diamond Head. I asked anyone who wanted to answer if they were married and had kids or grandkids and they laughed. They do. And they say their spouses are quite tolerant, but they could also have some handsome insurance policies waiting.

It was fun watching the guys launch, float into the sky, tug on their lines to steer left, right, up and down. One came in for a landing, and he touched down lighter than an angel. I am intrigued at the idea of climbing into a harness, spreading out a paraglider, confirming lines aren’t tangled, and running off a cliff with faith that there is enough lift and breeze to float you.

High above the iwa birds flew, curious at the spectacle of the big, orange pouffy man birds, that added color to our overcast Hawaii skies today.

What’s at the End of Your Rainbow?

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If you own a business and you are successful, then it’s probably OK to make your avatar on Twitter and your profile pic on Facebook your favorite body parts, or your favorite finger with your tongue sticking out behind it. It’s funny, it’s startling, and people look at them. This is exactly what you want, need, and crave. It’s your little piece of virtual real estate with which to do what you wish.

Expose yourself on the Internet carefully.

Consider the outside chance that something might change. You might like the idea of having a job where there’s an HR department, benefits, and someone else taking care of payroll. A job where you keep a jacket, spare pantyhose, a Tide stick, lipstick, and a deoderant stick. A job where you resist the urge to stick it to the man.

Or maybe it’s not a job. Maybe you meet someone special, someone who knows you from a perfect split second where a smile or a hello and the magnetic pull between you makes everything else disappear. A split second. A split second where you wish you could rewind life and erase every bad judgment call you ever made. Well, maybe not all of them.

One day you might have to snap your knees together and shut up. One day you might have to zip up your fly or put your boobs back into your bra, delete hawt and sexy photos from your social media accounts, and stop writing and saying things that could haunt you when you’re interviewing for a job, applying for a grant or venture capital, or somebody’s considering you as marriage material.

Written words are probably the toughest things to drop. Now that we have the Internet, everything we write or say lives forever. If it’s not too late, I recommend cleaning up your act and start spinning your observations positively. Eventually, the old ink fades, overcome by more thoughtful and respectable word flows. You start looking like an intelligent resource instead of a flamboyant blow hard or Bimbo with a capital B.

What's at the end of your rainbow?

I know this. I am the voice of experience. But there is something else I know. There are those who are determined to earn their own painful knocks, scars, and woeful tales. Go for it. I hope you don’t turn out like that old roommate of mine I saw digging in a trash can at Ala Moana Beach Park years ago.

Look. What I have done and what I have been have shaped me to what I am now. I’ve said that here on lavagal.net several times. I will always admire those who finished college in four years and then proceeded to advanced degrees.

Toast to your future!

My beat has been more bongo drum than collegiate marching band. If you march to a different drummer as well, then you should also be resilient, flexible, a chameleon in today’s work force. And when  you are, it’s OK to make a glass of bubbly your avi on your birthday. I know this.