Biker Chick

If you’re planning a trip to Boulder, Colorado, you’ve certainly added “visit Chataqua park” to your itinerary. First of all, you could have streamlined that to say “Chataqua,” I’m not sure why you felt the need to make that a wordier task. Sorry, I will stop poking fun at your imaginary itinerary-planning skills (or lack thereof?).

Lately, Chataqua has become even more of a messy conglomeration of tourists than it was before. The main trails have been under construction LITERALLY forever (that’s not being dramatic at all), you now have to pay to park, and this morning I saw that they’ve added a photo booth. Sheesh. I go to Chataqua not for the hike; I go to free solo climb the second flatiron (to sum up “free solo”- it’s climbing without a harness or ropes). Honestly, the hike to get to the base of the slab is the pesky part.

 

Because of the whole “pay for parking” situation (yeah, as IF I would drop a dime on that!), I have started riding my bike to Chataqua. Actually, ever since my shoulder injury mentioned in the past few posts (catch up if you haven’t read them yet. I’ll wait, and even include a page break so that it seems as if I actually waited), I have been biking as a primary means of transportation.

That was the page break that I requested be included on your behalf. You’re welcome. Alright, so back to the meat of this post. Yum, meat, maybe it’s time for a burger break? Do you see why I have issues just sitting down and writing? Because of my increase in biking activity, I am trying to be an overall less awkward biker. Whenever someone passes me (which gives you an idea of how speedy I am), they usually shout out “passing on your left!” (or, passing on your right!), and my first reaction is to move to the side they announce, which thankfully hasn’t led to any collisions yet, and then I awkwardly feel the need to respond, so I yell “ok, sounds good!” which is completely unnecessary.

 

I’ve always found there to be “looks” that bikers exchange with other bikers, drivers, walkers, runners, etc. One of the looks is a look exchanged between bikers biking uphill and drivers passing them or driving downhill in the opposite direction. I used to give the sympathetic look to uphill bikers as a driver- like “aww, it really sucks that you are biking up that horrible hill, but I am sitting in my nice air-conditioned car and thus am unable to feel your pain, but I guess I am sorry you are in pain.” As bikers exchanging looks, it’s some serious empathy. Like, “yo fellow biker, I LITERALLY know EXACTLY how you feel; I just did that horrendous climb, but be motivated by the knowledge that soon, you will be flying downhill just as I am now.” The other is just the look of irritation that drivers give bikers and pedestrians, the one that says “how DARE you make me wait for another light cycle!” as they throw up their arms in indignation. Ironically, when that same driver is a pedestrian or biker, he or she is frustrated by drivers, thinking “how DARE you make me wait for another light cycle!” as they throw up their arms in indignation.

I decided to share the bike-related thoughts rattling around in my brain today, because it is Bike to Work day. I biked to work (because, once again, bike to work day!) basically one million miles (again, no drama here), and stopped at a few breakfast stations en route. I got a bunch of free bike gear from Nite Ize, who also gave me fruit and a Clif Bar, but they lacked coffee which I got later, ironically, at the tea factory Celestial Seasonings. Then I got to work drenched in sweat, which was fine because we are a bunch of fitness fanatics spending the majority of our time in workout garb. I don't have any kind of concluding thoughts for this blog so.... the end? 

 

Fight Do!

Move aside, hot yoga, I’ve fallen head over heels for a new kind of workout.

Okay, okay, perhaps that is a bit rash. I’m not ready to thrust aside my beloved yoga, which has served me so well for over two years now. But, it will certainly be sharing time in my workout schedule with a newcomer: kickboxing.

I would have never ended up participating in a kickboxing class in Japan if it hadn’t been for one of my students inviting me to his gym after my Sunday morning class. I somewhat reluctantly agreed.

My reluctance stemmed from a rather disastrous experience at a dance class I attempted last week. I say attempted, because by no dictionary’s definition did I complete a single dance step correctly. I was a horrible whirlwind of spastic motions flailing about the studio, posing a massive hazard to those around me like a renegade tornado.

I felt crushed after and vowed not to attend a dance class in Japan ever again. Sticking with yoga seemed a safe option: despite my lack of comprehension of the instructor’s directions, my previous knowledge of the postures enables me to succeed to some degree.

So, back to the story at hand: kickboxing class. The class is actually called Fight Do, or フアイト゛ウ, because it is a brand name like “Bikram yoga” or “P-90X.”I should prefix this by saying we attended a yoga class beforehand. So, I was already a bit tired physically, thus augmenting my anxiety about my ability to do “Fight Do” class. Yet, my anxieties were, as usual, completely unnecessary.

I plan to.

Jabbing, punching, elbowing, and kicking the air is one of the most cathartic and stress relieving workouts I’ve ever done. Also, focusing on the instructor meant I had no extra mental capacity to think about my daily woes.

I hope I look this cool...

Not only did I enjoy the experience, but it also turns out that I am shockingly apt at doing the moves properly. That has never happened before, as I am completely uncoordinated. In middle school, I had to stay late after the rehearsal for musicals because I needed extra lessons to learn the dance moves. The only dance class at which I have ever slightly succeeded is Zumba, because it requires no grace whatsoever. Or, perhaps it does, but it also doesn't matter if you flail around like an uncoordinated baboon, like I do. On that note, are there graceful baboons? I always think of primates as flailing creatures. Especially when I think of myself.

Thankfully, my gym has its own Fight Do classes. And I plan to attend every weekend. 

Unintentional Speed Training

So, the title of this blog is the reason that I will not be able to go to the gym daily, as I would like. This entire school year, students in the track and field club have begged me to join their practice one day. So, finally I decided on a week when I would attend, and I asked the teacher in charge if she wouldn't mind allowing me to join. She answered gleefully that they would love to have me there. I didn’t know what I was getting into. I innocently assumed that I would just go there for about an hour during their often three-hour long practice and then just go home. I also assumed quite mistakenly that it would be really basic stuff and not physically demanding at all.

Gentle jog!

Then, yesterday, the teacher in charge of the club came up to my desk and asked me how fast I can run four kilometers. Awkwardly, she and I spent about ten minutes trying to do conversions and figure it out. I told her that I generally do distance running, and that I can typically do about 10 kilometers in about 56-57 minutes which is about 9 minutes per mile. She started furiously writing and trying to calculate what this meant in terms of km. I felt like a moron for not being able to figure it out quickly.

 

Kil...o...meter?? What??

Anyways, eventually we figured it out. I assumed she asked me out of mere curiosity, an assumption I quickly realized to be a grave error when she began to decide with which group of students to place me with for their training on the day I would attend. She stroked her chin pensively and said, “you know, with some training we could get you down to 4 kilometers in 17 minutes.” My eyes widened. That is crazy fast in my world, where I am accustomed to running long stretches at slower paces. She continued, “you are interested in speed training, no?” I felt obligated to answer yes to her eager expression. “Of course,” I managed to say in a weak voice. And thus, with the utterance of two words, I agreed to participate in a speed-training regimen. Goody.

This is just not me...

Pantyhose and Japanese Hot Yoga

Not at the same time, don’t worry. I don’t think pantyhose are the best option for alpinists attempting to reach the summit of the tallest mountain in the world. They are, however, ridiculously common here in Japan, yet another reason I feel like their trends are a bit stuck in the past. I never would have thought that I’d be a regular pantyhose-wearing workingwoman (I am dumbstruck by the fact that that “workingwoman” is one word), even after realizing that EVERY female here wears them. I resisted for my first two weeks. Finally, I caved after hanging out with my Japanese friend and decided to give it the old college try. Turns out, I love pantyhose. They make my legs look awesome, even-toned and slim, and they make me feel less gross changing between sweaty pairs of shoes all the time. I feel like they also keep my pants cleaner from creating a barrier between them and my sweaty legs.'

My new best friends

Speaking of sweat, the only time you can see a Japanese person covered in it is during a hot yoga session. I decided that since I paid a whole $5.00 for a month gym membership, I should milk it for every cent and go to one of the classes they offer. I was completely clueless as to how it works at my gym where literally no employee speaks English. Of course, attempting to ask about if the gym has a sign up procedure for their classes was out of the question. Even if I magically figured out how to ask if I needed a mat or if I could rent one, I would never be able to understand the response. 

So, I learned how to read "hot yoga" in katakana, found out there was a class at 3:45 today and decided just to show up. I got there about a half hour early and there was already a line outside the studio. Good sign. I also noticed there were piles of mats stacked up inside the studio. Sweet, free mat rental, BOOM! I assumed, quite erroneously, that their version of hot yoga would be equivalent to that in America, with the same 26 postures. WRONG. Thankfully, the lady on the mat noticed my obvious white-ness and how completely lost I was instantly, and she started giving me little gestures on what to do in the mirror. The most awkward thing was that the instructor was clearly hilarious- people were laughing at her jokes the entire time, and I just sat there with my straight face plastered on. I think laughing with everyone else when they clearly could tell I didn't understand would have just made things worse. 

My fake laugh is a bit over the top...

The class was actually quite enjoyable, a nice detox, and if I continue to go maybe I will pick up some vocabulary. I doubt it, however. It may even make the normal gym fee worth it next month. 

Absurd Fitness Recommendations

I have a bone to pick with a certain Ms. (Mrs.?) Jillian Michaels. While researching fitness tips the other day, because that is what I do in my spare time, I came across those of Michaels. The majority of her "six ways to (FINALLY!) get a flat belly" seemed reasonable and doable- cut down your salt intake, do more planks, blah-dee-blah, nothing new. Then I came across a tip that made me want to reach through the computer screen and punch her pretentious face. Number 4: Eat The Right Foods. Okay, Jillian, that sounds like a great tip based on the title! Then, I read the blurb beneath it:

"First, let's get something straight; all processed foods need to go. Get rid of the potato chips, microwave dinners, and definitely put an end to those fast food fixes. The sodium, preservatives and sugars alone will help keep your belly looking bloated and defeat your efforts. Replace the junk food with whole, quality, organic foods that are packed with healthy nutrients, not preservatives. Then, work these three foods into your diet for maximum belly-fat burn."

After my eyes scanned the last word of that passage, anger began to boil inside me like it does in a hot tea kettle.

Telling the average Jane/Joe to completely do away with microwave dinners and all fast food is absolutely absurd. If Jillian and other health advocates WANT people to get healthier, they need to promote making little, beneficial changes that gradually lead to larger lifestyle changes. Telling Couch Potato Chris to magically chuck his microwave dinners and become a vegan who only eats raw, organic produce is completely unrealistic. Jillian telling people that ALL processed foods "need to go" is going to get through to about zero people, especially those with crunched schedules and no time to cook everything from scratch.

Sorry, Jillian, we don't ALL have an endless cash flow streaming in allowing us to dedicate our every waking moment to fitness and health. Shocking as it may seem, we don't have wallets bursting at the seams with bills yearning to be spent at Whole Foods on their overpriced organic fare. We also don't have seven hours a day to spend prepping and cooking every single meal like Amish housewives (well, except in the case of Amish housewives).

Organic- but it's a MICROWAVE meal, throw it out!!!! Quick, before it adds inches to your waistline!

It reminded me of a talk that I went to about a year ago focusing on heart health. Specifically, the doctor leading the information session told the audience to "only buy things with no nutritional facts label." As in, only buy fruits and veggies. Is she nuts? Even organic, cage-free, butt-wiped, free-range, pampered chicken meat has a nutrition label. Actually, maybe she wants people to buy crossbows and don camo prints to get out there and take down their prey as nature intended, Katniss from The Hunger Games style!

That is the kind of recommendation that has the complete opposite effect as that which is desired. When people hear that they need to do 45 minutes of intense cardio 6 days a week plus three days of strength training and that they can only eat organic, unprocessed foods, their spirits will completely sink. These insane recommendations only spark the thought "well, I can never do that much, it just doesn't fit into my schedule and is too difficult, I may as well continue my sedentary lifestyle."

I will NOT give up my popcorn! 

The idea should be just to promote making, as I said earlier, little lifestyle changes. Take the stairs, not the elevator. Park further away from the store in the parking garage. Try to eat two more servings of vegetables a day. Heck, even just one more! Find a workout you love and do it once or twice a week. Those are the kind of things that will make people think "hey, I can do that!"

And THAT's how you make progress in public health, Jillian Michaels...

Just Do It!

I hope Nike doesn't send their legal minions to sue me for using their motto, but it has become a personal motivation for me to initiate my daily workouts. Something that I read in an issue of the Parade magazine long ago also helps make me roll out of bed in the morning to go for a run no matter how much I don't want to at the time. It was an interview with an elderly but super fit lady whom Parade asked about her fitness routine. The line in the interview that stuck with me was so simple: "There's no excuse to be lazy." Every time the morning light blares in through my window and I just want to pull my covers over my face and hibernate like a comatose bear, that little line nags at my mind incessantly until I finally get up and hesitantly don my running clothes.

One thing I fail to understand is how my mind can never seem to wrap its head around the fact that post-workout, I feel amazing in every way. You'd think that the sheer amount of endorphin highs I have experienced at the end of workouts would train my mind to realize that, although it's tough to get going, the end result is extremely worth it. That's where the Nike motto comes in: when my mind protests incessantly to a run like a child throwing a tantrum and saying over and over "no, I don't wanna!" I tell my whiny inner-child to "just do it." Wow, that definitely sounded like I have multiple personality disorder...

Such inspiring words...

Challenging myself to run 30 days in a row has motivated me an unbelievable amount. I mean, if I don't complete the challenge, the only person I will have to report to is myself, and that wouldn't be nearly as humiliating as admitting it to a friend who imposed a similar challenge. Yet though it is self-imposed, it is working like a charm. If under any other circumstance I happened to wake up and notice the extreme gusts that seem like they could easily lift me up and fling me across the street, I would have thought "hell no am I going out in that" and plopped back in bed. Yet, today, despite the wind gusts of death, I knew how disappointed I would be in me if I didn't go out for a bit anyways. Yes, it sucked. Am I happy I forced myself to do it? Absolutely.

So here we are, about 10 days into a running streak and 20 days in a row of working out. Let's see how long I can keep it up!

I wish I looked this awesome during my runs...

A bit more accurate...