Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Kicking out expresso
Expresso + shawna's motormouth = trouble incarnate. Yesterday I thought I'd give myself an extra little kick to focus better through the closing out of the afternoon. So after I got off a quickie phone call during my break, with about a minute to spare, I grabbed an expresso short to take with me. Within twenty minutes it kicked in and I could hardly contain myself. Expresso with training can be useful. Expresso on it's own makes me feel antsy, punches up my heartrate from around 40 to around 80, and makes me feel generally awful but definitely awake.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
closest to home
Does anyone think that we're going to see Gilad Shalit delivered to Egypt alive and well this friday? Runblings on the arabic region online papers seem to think so. I hate to get my hopes up on this one, but they already are. It feels like we're constantly gobbling up scraps of Gilad confirmation because our whole country so desperately wants him home with his family.
Each time we're led to believe a deal will be solidified, it's fallen through and our hopes again drop down through the floorboards. I can only imagine the psychological gymnastics that Gilad is being subjected to by Hamas and/or whichever peonic Islamo-extremist testicle free sect of violence is holding him.
Each time we're led to believe a deal will be solidified, it's fallen through and our hopes again drop down through the floorboards. I can only imagine the psychological gymnastics that Gilad is being subjected to by Hamas and/or whichever peonic Islamo-extremist testicle free sect of violence is holding him.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
riding on a wing and a prayer
We took off through nachshon junction this morning and went over to the Lackhish area, around through a big climb on a tiny hidden road, and then back through nachshon towards tel aviv. The total was around 160 kilometres of fighting to not get dropped from the pack. We were split into two groups today to address the differences in level and degree of ride difficulty. I was unceremoniously tossed into the elite group where I felt like a guppy surrounded by octane fueled barracudas.
As we started the ride, one of the guys asks me how my climbing is, and of course I gushed about how much I love to climb but am not the quickest descender. Well, I almost ate my words.I do love to climb and the longer and harder, the better for me. But, when I have to keep up with a bunch of peak fitness "in season" cyclists on those do or die climbs, I'm working so hard that I have to suppress the urge to throw up all over my bike half way through the ride. Today was hell for me. I loved it but it was pure hell trying to keep the take no prisoners pace.
This group is a big family and I completely feel the love while I'm riding.
I have the tendency to be slightly self destructive, and while I'm capable of training high volumes, I tend to let myself end up in a performance hole by not addressing key sports nutrition, supplement, and recovery principles. It's easier to be much lighter when you eschew training hydration and fueling and post training recovery but when you do this you entirely lose the quality of the effort. I used to think that you could do this and as long as you conducted yourself appropriately the night before and the day of a race, a performance would go as planned. When you're 18 and a bit of a kamikaze on the race course, your body can handle that to some extent. You won't reach a peak but your body will handle it.
When you're older, glycogen stores get depleted very quickly as your muscles turn into a furnace and the outcome can be messy. I don't know how many training sessions I've done where I've gone so deep into glycogen depletion that I can't even lift myself out of the pool, feel like I'm going to pass out with each breath, and/or lose the ability to support myself on my own two legs. I'm not so into that anymore.
The family/team atmosphere helps too because the guys are always reminding me to drink or use gels or whatever so that I have the energy to keep the effort level high. The result is my performance improves but I'm not any lighter. I can address that later.
There is one women though who drives me bonkers. She's a strong cyclist on the flats and on the descents but can't climb for beans. She falls off the pack climbing and I move to the front or at least try to. Then when we finally hit a long descent she comes flying by my place in the pack and uses her massive ass to move in the pack ahead of me. I have to let her in or get knocked over. I'm not one to criticize other womens bodies, when I spend enough time criticizing my own, but she totally uses her humongous ass and it's bizarre centre of gravity to shoot down the descents and then when she moves back into the pack ahead of me, two things happen; I have to work like hell to find a wheel and hang on again on the descents which are hard for me as my bike is very light, and then I just have to pass her again on the next climb. It's really irritating and tests my patience.
Around Lackhish we started passing tractors travelling in the opposite direction. It was curious because the first one had a women wearing a full black chador with just slits for the eyes, and then all the next ones had women driving wearing various forms of full coverings including what appeared to be lumber jackets. I've never seen religious muslim women driving tractors before. I guess in Israel you can really see all walks of life doing tasks that our internal stereotypes refuse to allow us to connect with them. A bike can be such an amazing viewfinder into our israeli shakshuka culture.
As we started the ride, one of the guys asks me how my climbing is, and of course I gushed about how much I love to climb but am not the quickest descender. Well, I almost ate my words.I do love to climb and the longer and harder, the better for me. But, when I have to keep up with a bunch of peak fitness "in season" cyclists on those do or die climbs, I'm working so hard that I have to suppress the urge to throw up all over my bike half way through the ride. Today was hell for me. I loved it but it was pure hell trying to keep the take no prisoners pace.
This group is a big family and I completely feel the love while I'm riding.
I have the tendency to be slightly self destructive, and while I'm capable of training high volumes, I tend to let myself end up in a performance hole by not addressing key sports nutrition, supplement, and recovery principles. It's easier to be much lighter when you eschew training hydration and fueling and post training recovery but when you do this you entirely lose the quality of the effort. I used to think that you could do this and as long as you conducted yourself appropriately the night before and the day of a race, a performance would go as planned. When you're 18 and a bit of a kamikaze on the race course, your body can handle that to some extent. You won't reach a peak but your body will handle it.
When you're older, glycogen stores get depleted very quickly as your muscles turn into a furnace and the outcome can be messy. I don't know how many training sessions I've done where I've gone so deep into glycogen depletion that I can't even lift myself out of the pool, feel like I'm going to pass out with each breath, and/or lose the ability to support myself on my own two legs. I'm not so into that anymore.
The family/team atmosphere helps too because the guys are always reminding me to drink or use gels or whatever so that I have the energy to keep the effort level high. The result is my performance improves but I'm not any lighter. I can address that later.
There is one women though who drives me bonkers. She's a strong cyclist on the flats and on the descents but can't climb for beans. She falls off the pack climbing and I move to the front or at least try to. Then when we finally hit a long descent she comes flying by my place in the pack and uses her massive ass to move in the pack ahead of me. I have to let her in or get knocked over. I'm not one to criticize other womens bodies, when I spend enough time criticizing my own, but she totally uses her humongous ass and it's bizarre centre of gravity to shoot down the descents and then when she moves back into the pack ahead of me, two things happen; I have to work like hell to find a wheel and hang on again on the descents which are hard for me as my bike is very light, and then I just have to pass her again on the next climb. It's really irritating and tests my patience.
Around Lackhish we started passing tractors travelling in the opposite direction. It was curious because the first one had a women wearing a full black chador with just slits for the eyes, and then all the next ones had women driving wearing various forms of full coverings including what appeared to be lumber jackets. I've never seen religious muslim women driving tractors before. I guess in Israel you can really see all walks of life doing tasks that our internal stereotypes refuse to allow us to connect with them. A bike can be such an amazing viewfinder into our israeli shakshuka culture.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Foot in Mouth Disease
It seems that I was born with foot in mouth disease. The colloquial version, I like to think. When I was a wee toddler my grandmother nicknamed me the chatterbox, because apparently I had a wind up mouth. Here I am, at my third decade, and I still haven't soldered the wind up into the off position or developed a well functioning pause button. I catch myself going on into tangents and exhausting ears way too often, although in my advanced age I at least have found self recognition... the first step!
I talk to speak my mind. I talk to speak someone else's mind. I talk to fill in the spaces within a conversation and I talk to create space within a conversation. If no one intercedes with a comment or sentence fragment, then I could very well embarrassingly carry on until the next full moon and answer myself too.
My next project should be to collaborate with one of our brilliant israeli high tech companies to come up with an electric stimulator that buzzes me when I've exceeded the normal period of singleperson led conversation. I am so embarrassing to myself it's ridiculous.
It's not that I don't enjoy listening. I do. Very much. And I'm very interested I l in hearing out what most people have to say. I love conversation, but let the pause go on for too long and I pick up the slack filling in the gaps within the next millisecond and continuing until my lips are otherwise occupied or I get called on it. Most of the time I like tucking in for a good listen and I'm a pretty decent facilitative listener, but when I get going, my mouth is on turbo.
Next: project shawna takes a breath...
I talk to speak my mind. I talk to speak someone else's mind. I talk to fill in the spaces within a conversation and I talk to create space within a conversation. If no one intercedes with a comment or sentence fragment, then I could very well embarrassingly carry on until the next full moon and answer myself too.
My next project should be to collaborate with one of our brilliant israeli high tech companies to come up with an electric stimulator that buzzes me when I've exceeded the normal period of singleperson led conversation. I am so embarrassing to myself it's ridiculous.
It's not that I don't enjoy listening. I do. Very much. And I'm very interested I l in hearing out what most people have to say. I love conversation, but let the pause go on for too long and I pick up the slack filling in the gaps within the next millisecond and continuing until my lips are otherwise occupied or I get called on it. Most of the time I like tucking in for a good listen and I'm a pretty decent facilitative listener, but when I get going, my mouth is on turbo.
Next: project shawna takes a breath...
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
karma kook
Weirdness prevails, in politics and the personal. Life can take such strange twists and I sometimes feel like I'm trying to find the yellow brick road but it's so overgrown with weeds that it's shiny buttery brick is entirely concealed and I'm navigating based on instinct. Just trying to make the best choices on my own, without parental interference, can be exhausting.
At least I've got some forward momentum now. I still wish I could put myself on some Ritalin but water and lemon will have to suffice, just in case I return to racing. At some point I will, as I do have unfinished bidnezz with my sport.
At least I've got some forward momentum now. I still wish I could put myself on some Ritalin but water and lemon will have to suffice, just in case I return to racing. At some point I will, as I do have unfinished bidnezz with my sport.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
the side note
A friend of mine bumped into Don Juan the other day and it seems that he can't figure out why I'm not interested. The ick factor is just too high and my ick rating for him was confirmed when I learned that while I was stealthily avoiding his calls, he was bedding a blond israeli friend of mine who had no idea of Don and my earlier dalliances. Here humour sneaks in as I keep picturing Don Giovanni and the floor opening to swallow him up for cockiness and indiscretions. I don't mind though. It's not that Don Juan will ever be an object of my affections. I'm glad he's having fun and not with me.
pulling out...
Premature pullouts cause more damage than pleasure or progress.
This morning we rode along a route that took us to the rolling roads near sderot, then over to ashkelon, back through the nachshom junction, on to Latrun and then back home. I've been riding with a new cycling team and getting lifts to the meeting point with one of my close triathlon friends who has a car. This friend used to be one of the top 10k runners in Europe and he's a serious competitive cyclist now who's trying to turn over into triathlon.
It works out well because I have someone to chase when I do runs immediately off the bike during training sessions. I love running but I always dig so much deeper when I have a mode of competitive comparison. He leaves me in the dust running but I max out trying to catch him. It's fantastic redlining and despite my low training volume I feel much better with my physical performance at this point. I think I'm starting to recover from all my previous years overtraining.
Anyway, during a point in the ride where I could tuck in to the pack, spin at 100 rpms and coast a bit for recovery, I started chatting with a rider who had served as part of the IDF intelligence in the lebanon years. I was fascinated. He spoke about his role as coordinator of intelligence in southern lebanon and how part of his role included finding jobs and opportunities for cooperating lebanese who wanted to take advantage of economic opportunities in Israel. He said that Israel actually has the largest intelligence division of any national force and that one of the largest mistakes we made in the lebanese pull out was not providing sufficient holistic support for the Lebanese who assisted us. The downfall was that many of these same Lebanese developed a strong hatred towards us for abandoning them, and turned to hezbollah and straight away offered all the intelligence that they had on Israel and the IDF.
The story sounded familiar as this is basically what happened in Afganistan in the 80's when the U.S. pulled out after fighting the soviets. Afganis who had helped the U.S. were abandoned and to avoid complete destitution they turned to the Madrassas and the Taliban and eventually towards terrorism against the U.S.
The matter of pulling out or disengaging at any level from an occupied or contested area is fraught with pitfalls and poisonous snakes. We're supposed to learn from history's tales and humanity's failures, but somehow when it comes to warfare and politics, we ignore lessons which dooms us to repetition.
The burning question then becomes.. when is premature? and is it actually possible to ever fully extricate ourselves from these situations at a win-win level?
This morning we rode along a route that took us to the rolling roads near sderot, then over to ashkelon, back through the nachshom junction, on to Latrun and then back home. I've been riding with a new cycling team and getting lifts to the meeting point with one of my close triathlon friends who has a car. This friend used to be one of the top 10k runners in Europe and he's a serious competitive cyclist now who's trying to turn over into triathlon.
It works out well because I have someone to chase when I do runs immediately off the bike during training sessions. I love running but I always dig so much deeper when I have a mode of competitive comparison. He leaves me in the dust running but I max out trying to catch him. It's fantastic redlining and despite my low training volume I feel much better with my physical performance at this point. I think I'm starting to recover from all my previous years overtraining.
Anyway, during a point in the ride where I could tuck in to the pack, spin at 100 rpms and coast a bit for recovery, I started chatting with a rider who had served as part of the IDF intelligence in the lebanon years. I was fascinated. He spoke about his role as coordinator of intelligence in southern lebanon and how part of his role included finding jobs and opportunities for cooperating lebanese who wanted to take advantage of economic opportunities in Israel. He said that Israel actually has the largest intelligence division of any national force and that one of the largest mistakes we made in the lebanese pull out was not providing sufficient holistic support for the Lebanese who assisted us. The downfall was that many of these same Lebanese developed a strong hatred towards us for abandoning them, and turned to hezbollah and straight away offered all the intelligence that they had on Israel and the IDF.
The story sounded familiar as this is basically what happened in Afganistan in the 80's when the U.S. pulled out after fighting the soviets. Afganis who had helped the U.S. were abandoned and to avoid complete destitution they turned to the Madrassas and the Taliban and eventually towards terrorism against the U.S.
The matter of pulling out or disengaging at any level from an occupied or contested area is fraught with pitfalls and poisonous snakes. We're supposed to learn from history's tales and humanity's failures, but somehow when it comes to warfare and politics, we ignore lessons which dooms us to repetition.
The burning question then becomes.. when is premature? and is it actually possible to ever fully extricate ourselves from these situations at a win-win level?
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