This 70-plus year-old runner and his blog inspires me so much. He literally keeps a running log of his weekly training, which I avidly follow.
I'm younger, and I don't even get to run as much as he does. Guess who's the fitter one between the two of us?
When I reach the age of 70, I'd still want to be able to go the distance like Old Man Running here.
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
31 October 2009
Old Man Running 7:36 PM
15 September 2009
the biggest loser 12:52 AM
Yesterday morning, my first Monday back at the office after my Bangkok training, I stepped on the weighing scale--and encountered the biggest surprise so far this week. My weight is now down to 90 lbs!
Before I left for Bangkok, I was at 94 lbs. Still within my ideal weight range and relatively healthy, in spite of the lack of exercise I've had the past couple of weeks. I managed to do an hour of boxing and 500 crunches the day before I left for Thailand, but I don't think that's the real reason I lost so much weight.
It must have been all that walking around the city of Bangkok and the healthy Thai food that I ate most of the time. No wonder Thai women are so skinny. They hardly put on weight even if they're fond of Swensen's ice-cream cakes. The spice in their food probably does wonders to their bodies. This is one of the reasons I love Thailand!
Anyway. While munching on salad greens over lunch on Monday, the girls in our fundraising and sales teams have made this blood compact of sorts to shed off 10 pounds within a month's time--in the form of a contest. The biggest "loser" every end of the week is considered to be the person who has lost the most weight in terms of percentage loss (e.g. 5 lbs lost out of the expected overall goal of 10 lbs for example would results in a 50% weight loss) and exempted from giving a weekly Php 50 penalty. By the end of one month, the overall winner will receive the whole pot of money. It was an exciting challenge and opportunity for everyone in our team to lose weight.
Can I join??? I asked excitedly.
And all six teammates turned to give me their most withering stares.
"You are exempted from joining! And Reggie too!" Tintin declared vehemently. Apparently, they have made the collective decision to ban Reggie and me because us two were considered to be stick thin already. Daaa-yum. I would have loved the challenge, but then come to think of it, I didn't need to lose weight.
Tricia is currently on a fruit diet, so she set her weight loss goal at 8 lbs while the other five decided on losing 10 lbs. Pam announced that she wasn't joining, as dieting wasn't her thing--and I had to agree with her on that. I mean, for the life of me, I could never imagine myself going on a fruit diet. I had a big bowl of hot and spicy Mongolian food that Monday lunch, plus my 290-calorie Starbucks Caffe Mocha, and I wasn't about to give that all up. Besides, I needed the carbs to burn for boxing and running.
Because I was banned from the, er, Biggest Loser competition, I was appointed judge. Today, Tuesday morning, would be the start of the contest, and just like in a pre-boxing match, I had to weigh in all six participants and note down all their respective stats. And then I would have to weigh them every Friday, for the next 4 weeks. The weighing scale to be used would be, of course, the one located right in my work area.
I am seriously psyched for my teammates. Who's going to be the biggest loser, I wonder??
Before I left for Bangkok, I was at 94 lbs. Still within my ideal weight range and relatively healthy, in spite of the lack of exercise I've had the past couple of weeks. I managed to do an hour of boxing and 500 crunches the day before I left for Thailand, but I don't think that's the real reason I lost so much weight.
It must have been all that walking around the city of Bangkok and the healthy Thai food that I ate most of the time. No wonder Thai women are so skinny. They hardly put on weight even if they're fond of Swensen's ice-cream cakes. The spice in their food probably does wonders to their bodies. This is one of the reasons I love Thailand!
Anyway. While munching on salad greens over lunch on Monday, the girls in our fundraising and sales teams have made this blood compact of sorts to shed off 10 pounds within a month's time--in the form of a contest. The biggest "loser" every end of the week is considered to be the person who has lost the most weight in terms of percentage loss (e.g. 5 lbs lost out of the expected overall goal of 10 lbs for example would results in a 50% weight loss) and exempted from giving a weekly Php 50 penalty. By the end of one month, the overall winner will receive the whole pot of money. It was an exciting challenge and opportunity for everyone in our team to lose weight.
Can I join??? I asked excitedly.
And all six teammates turned to give me their most withering stares.
"You are exempted from joining! And Reggie too!" Tintin declared vehemently. Apparently, they have made the collective decision to ban Reggie and me because us two were considered to be stick thin already. Daaa-yum. I would have loved the challenge, but then come to think of it, I didn't need to lose weight.
Tricia is currently on a fruit diet, so she set her weight loss goal at 8 lbs while the other five decided on losing 10 lbs. Pam announced that she wasn't joining, as dieting wasn't her thing--and I had to agree with her on that. I mean, for the life of me, I could never imagine myself going on a fruit diet. I had a big bowl of hot and spicy Mongolian food that Monday lunch, plus my 290-calorie Starbucks Caffe Mocha, and I wasn't about to give that all up. Besides, I needed the carbs to burn for boxing and running.
Because I was banned from the, er, Biggest Loser competition, I was appointed judge. Today, Tuesday morning, would be the start of the contest, and just like in a pre-boxing match, I had to weigh in all six participants and note down all their respective stats. And then I would have to weigh them every Friday, for the next 4 weeks. The weighing scale to be used would be, of course, the one located right in my work area.
I am seriously psyched for my teammates. Who's going to be the biggest loser, I wonder??
23 August 2009
about a scar 2:46 PM
I was standing in front of a full-length mirror this morning with hardly any clothes on (okay, that was too much information), and I realized--after months of not paying attention--that the scar in my pelvic area has faded and flattened into a pale, almost skin tone shade. Give it a year or two, and it'll hardly be visible anymore.
The very vain part of me really hated this scar when it was new--weeks after that April 2007 cyst removal operation. I didn't like the idea of having a 5-inch surgical scar ruin what I considered to be a perfectly normal, blemish-free body. It depressed me for quite a while.
The scar was a huge discomfort to me, and for these past two years, I had gotten used to it announcing its throbbing presence whenever I run or do crunches after boxing. In a race, I'd find myself talking to it (in my head, of course) and I'd be like, "Oh come on, just a few more kilometers! You and I can do it. Stop complaining! You'll be okay!"
And in a cold environment, like the office, my scar would get all annoyingly itchy as if to say, "Time to moisturize me!" Because I feel it's totally wrong to scratch skin--and scars in particular--my only form of relief is to slather on cocoa butter lotion over it. And then my scar would "quiet" down.
It's like some living, sensory indicator that would warn me every time I was overexerting myself in a workout or if the cold got too much. (I find myself wondering how my scar would react if I went to Alaska or Russia or something.) To a certain extent, I've grown accustomed to it, having it as a sort of companion whom I'd defy in mid-crunch and especially in running. But when I've finally crossed the finish line, I'd say (again, in my head), "See? We're okay, scar!"
I have a love-hate relationship with it, as you can see.
The thing about scars like mine is that they remind you of what you've been through and what you're still capable of. It's annoying to feel the pain when I'm running for example--but when I think of all those weeks I had to hobble around and even require assistance from sitting up in bed, when I had to go without exercise for months to let the scar heal, when I couldn't be in a standing position for more than 5 minutes because the pain was exhausting and unbearable--I consider myself lucky to be running 10 km now, moderate scar discomfort and all.
If one thinks about it, those weeks after the operation were all just about physical pain (and other people have endured much worse), but getting over it has immense mental benefits. Many wonder why marathon runners still run even when they're experiencing cramps and all that muscle pain in mid-race. Or to put it within a more personal context, some people in the office ask me why I still do cardioboxing even when my knuckles have undergone some considerable beating and look like crap. Why? Why go through all that torture, they ask.
And the simple answer is...well, it feels good to beat the pain, that's all. It makes you feel better as a person knowing that your tolerance for pain has increased by a notch or two.
So as I stood in front of the mirror this morning, I patted my scar and thought about two things I want to accomplish: 500 crunches in one boxing session this coming week--and perhaps, just perhaps, a 12.8 km practice run sometime soon. I think we'll be okay, scar.
The very vain part of me really hated this scar when it was new--weeks after that April 2007 cyst removal operation. I didn't like the idea of having a 5-inch surgical scar ruin what I considered to be a perfectly normal, blemish-free body. It depressed me for quite a while.
The scar was a huge discomfort to me, and for these past two years, I had gotten used to it announcing its throbbing presence whenever I run or do crunches after boxing. In a race, I'd find myself talking to it (in my head, of course) and I'd be like, "Oh come on, just a few more kilometers! You and I can do it. Stop complaining! You'll be okay!"
And in a cold environment, like the office, my scar would get all annoyingly itchy as if to say, "Time to moisturize me!" Because I feel it's totally wrong to scratch skin--and scars in particular--my only form of relief is to slather on cocoa butter lotion over it. And then my scar would "quiet" down.
It's like some living, sensory indicator that would warn me every time I was overexerting myself in a workout or if the cold got too much. (I find myself wondering how my scar would react if I went to Alaska or Russia or something.) To a certain extent, I've grown accustomed to it, having it as a sort of companion whom I'd defy in mid-crunch and especially in running. But when I've finally crossed the finish line, I'd say (again, in my head), "See? We're okay, scar!"
I have a love-hate relationship with it, as you can see.
The thing about scars like mine is that they remind you of what you've been through and what you're still capable of. It's annoying to feel the pain when I'm running for example--but when I think of all those weeks I had to hobble around and even require assistance from sitting up in bed, when I had to go without exercise for months to let the scar heal, when I couldn't be in a standing position for more than 5 minutes because the pain was exhausting and unbearable--I consider myself lucky to be running 10 km now, moderate scar discomfort and all.
If one thinks about it, those weeks after the operation were all just about physical pain (and other people have endured much worse), but getting over it has immense mental benefits. Many wonder why marathon runners still run even when they're experiencing cramps and all that muscle pain in mid-race. Or to put it within a more personal context, some people in the office ask me why I still do cardioboxing even when my knuckles have undergone some considerable beating and look like crap. Why? Why go through all that torture, they ask.
And the simple answer is...well, it feels good to beat the pain, that's all. It makes you feel better as a person knowing that your tolerance for pain has increased by a notch or two.
So as I stood in front of the mirror this morning, I patted my scar and thought about two things I want to accomplish: 500 crunches in one boxing session this coming week--and perhaps, just perhaps, a 12.8 km practice run sometime soon. I think we'll be okay, scar.
13 June 2009
Had a severe stomach ache yesterday. It must have been something I ate on Thursday evening. The only stuff I had then were beef mami noodles, oatmeal cookies and a latte frappe. I can't determine which one was the nasty cause.
Friday, at 4am, I started having stomach pains and, er, gastro-intestinal disturbances. In other words, a so-not-sexy case of diarrhea.
I couldn't have any coffee or ice cream or a milkshake. It was a miserable and low point in my life.
In spite of my condition, I managed to go around Greenbelt 5 a bit and did some browsing at the new Fully Booked branch. I also found myself staring wistfully at the display of Nama chocolates at the Royce' Chocolates booth at the ground floor of Greenbelt 5. It was only when my stomach cramps started kicking again into high gear that I had to peel myself away from the display and hurry into the nearest restroom, so that I could yowl in pain in the privacy of a toilet cubicle.
Friday late afternoon and evening saw me resting at home, really exhausted from all that stomach pain crap. The diarrhea wasn't so bad; it was the stomach ache that was causing me much inconvenience. I was tired from doubling over in pain and screaming; it was like having menstrual cramps times 10.
I had this vision of this hairy, yellow-colored bacteria (why yellow?) wreaking havoc inside my stomach and refusing to go out in spite of all the liters of water and fruit juice I was drinking and the many visits to the bathroom. I'm not even sure if my vision was scientifically correct.
Anyway. Still at home resting, even though the stomach pain is very minimal. I feel sad I can't box today because I have to be completely well. Monday would be a better option. Running isn't a current option altogether, because all that bouncing about might trigger another bout of turbulent gastro-intestinal attacks. Hay.
Friday, at 4am, I started having stomach pains and, er, gastro-intestinal disturbances. In other words, a so-not-sexy case of diarrhea.
I couldn't have any coffee or ice cream or a milkshake. It was a miserable and low point in my life.
In spite of my condition, I managed to go around Greenbelt 5 a bit and did some browsing at the new Fully Booked branch. I also found myself staring wistfully at the display of Nama chocolates at the Royce' Chocolates booth at the ground floor of Greenbelt 5. It was only when my stomach cramps started kicking again into high gear that I had to peel myself away from the display and hurry into the nearest restroom, so that I could yowl in pain in the privacy of a toilet cubicle.
Friday late afternoon and evening saw me resting at home, really exhausted from all that stomach pain crap. The diarrhea wasn't so bad; it was the stomach ache that was causing me much inconvenience. I was tired from doubling over in pain and screaming; it was like having menstrual cramps times 10.
I had this vision of this hairy, yellow-colored bacteria (why yellow?) wreaking havoc inside my stomach and refusing to go out in spite of all the liters of water and fruit juice I was drinking and the many visits to the bathroom. I'm not even sure if my vision was scientifically correct.
Anyway. Still at home resting, even though the stomach pain is very minimal. I feel sad I can't box today because I have to be completely well. Monday would be a better option. Running isn't a current option altogether, because all that bouncing about might trigger another bout of turbulent gastro-intestinal attacks. Hay.
19 March 2009
reasons to worry about The Condura Run 11:35 AM
I’m really worried. Last night, I was aiming for a tempo run of 8K, but I had to stop at 3.7K. Ridiculous.
Stress at work, running at a very late hour, perpetually sore and battered legs (not kidding; I tend to hobble these days), slightly throbbing scar, not-so-cushioned running shoes, not enough pre-run energy food—these were all the factors that came to my mind when I stopped running after a measly 3.7K distance. I don’t know exactly which of these factors (could be all of them!) had something to do with my dreadful performance last night, but I sure was depressed. Now I’m seriously evaluating my capacity to run this coming Sunday on the flyover.
I couldn’t walk properly, so I called for a home service masseuse and treated myself to a good massage. The girl who worked on my poor legs and back was really good; I could feel the stress and soreness alleviating, and I actually fell asleep halfway through the treatment.
As I sit and write this short entry, I can’t help but feel really anxious about Sunday’s run. Will I finish it? I’m sure I can. I’ve done 10Ks before, and there’s nothing better than the atmosphere of a race to push one to reach the finish line even if the run was torturous. My worry, really, is my pace. I won’t run hard but I don’t want to be slow either. And I want enough endurance too to actually enjoy the 10K and feel happy every time I reach a kilometer mark, and not think “Oh, God, nasa 6K pa lang ako.”
So my promise to myself, as of yesterday evening, is to rest thoroughly. I feel exhausted these days, and I can’t afford to get sick. So no running in the meantime, as my right knee needs to heal. My next run will be this Sunday’s Condura race—more than a hour’s worth of running around the Serendra/High Street/NBC Tent perimeter, going up the Kalayaan Flyover, down to Buendia, past Makati Avenue, U-turn at Reposo and all the way back to NBC Tent, The Fort.
Gulp.
The route sounds even more daunting, now that I’ve actually described it in words.
Stress at work, running at a very late hour, perpetually sore and battered legs (not kidding; I tend to hobble these days), slightly throbbing scar, not-so-cushioned running shoes, not enough pre-run energy food—these were all the factors that came to my mind when I stopped running after a measly 3.7K distance. I don’t know exactly which of these factors (could be all of them!) had something to do with my dreadful performance last night, but I sure was depressed. Now I’m seriously evaluating my capacity to run this coming Sunday on the flyover.
I couldn’t walk properly, so I called for a home service masseuse and treated myself to a good massage. The girl who worked on my poor legs and back was really good; I could feel the stress and soreness alleviating, and I actually fell asleep halfway through the treatment.
As I sit and write this short entry, I can’t help but feel really anxious about Sunday’s run. Will I finish it? I’m sure I can. I’ve done 10Ks before, and there’s nothing better than the atmosphere of a race to push one to reach the finish line even if the run was torturous. My worry, really, is my pace. I won’t run hard but I don’t want to be slow either. And I want enough endurance too to actually enjoy the 10K and feel happy every time I reach a kilometer mark, and not think “Oh, God, nasa 6K pa lang ako.”
So my promise to myself, as of yesterday evening, is to rest thoroughly. I feel exhausted these days, and I can’t afford to get sick. So no running in the meantime, as my right knee needs to heal. My next run will be this Sunday’s Condura race—more than a hour’s worth of running around the Serendra/High Street/NBC Tent perimeter, going up the Kalayaan Flyover, down to Buendia, past Makati Avenue, U-turn at Reposo and all the way back to NBC Tent, The Fort.
Gulp.
The route sounds even more daunting, now that I’ve actually described it in words.
01 March 2009
Botak Paa-Bilisan 5K at The Fort (Feb 28) 12:57 PM
I stood quietly behind the start line along with hundreds of runners in this morning's race. I had already done my warm-ups in place and was just waiting for the gun start.
As runners around me chattered excitedly and took pre-run pictures, I looked antisocial, listening to the music on my earphones and checking and re-checking my watch to make sure that the distance and activity time were set to zero, so I could properly track my run.
I wasn't being withdrawn and standoffish, actually. With only one good eye, I felt it best to economize my movements and literally get a feel of the concrete road from where I stood, as a way of prepping myself. As I've mentioned in my last post, my right eye is sore and a little red due to overuse of contact lens, and my doctor has instructed me to go without contact lens in the said eye. Which leaves me with only one working eye, the left.
Seconds before the race started, I said a quick prayer, hoping that I wouldn't trip and fall because of my, er, handicap. I wasn't entirely confident about doing well in this race due to my limited vision, but I also wanted to prove to myself that I could hack it. After all, some people would run with injuries (and on some occasions, I would see this elderly man running fast with only one arm), so what's to stop me from running with only one contact lens on?
I was also insistent on running this Botak 5K race in particular because my first-ever run last October 2008 was also a Botak Paa-Bilisan event. Also 5K. In a way, I wanted to see how far I'd gone from my first race to this current one. Believe me, I haven't gone so far in terms of improved performance, haha. But I'm glad to see that I've made some progress in improving my endurance and pace. Because in my first race, I had a S-L-O-W total run of 43 minutes.
Today's race started late (unlike runrio races), so by the 4th kilometer, the sun was already up and the glare of its light was merciless on my poor eyes. Yup, summer's back with a vengeance, I thought to myself.
The first two kilometers were the hardest for me because my muscles still felt cold, and I was trying to adjust to running with only one good eye. To be safe and prevent myself from tripping, I stuck to the middle of the road and looked out for potholes. I was pretty conservative in my running and in my goals for this race; I just wanted to make it to the finish line, safe and in one piece. That's already a lot, considering my very poor vision.
Of course, when I saw the finish line (from my left eye), my face broke into a smile and I ran a little faster. I clocked in at 35:16 and checked my watch, which had the exact same activity time. A 7:05 pace wasn't altogether bad for this girl with the vision handicap. And when I checked my right eye afterwards, much of the redness was gone and the eye even looked a tad brighter.
This is totally encouraging. At least I can still do practice runs in the next couple of days even with one eye. Hurrah!
As runners around me chattered excitedly and took pre-run pictures, I looked antisocial, listening to the music on my earphones and checking and re-checking my watch to make sure that the distance and activity time were set to zero, so I could properly track my run.
I wasn't being withdrawn and standoffish, actually. With only one good eye, I felt it best to economize my movements and literally get a feel of the concrete road from where I stood, as a way of prepping myself. As I've mentioned in my last post, my right eye is sore and a little red due to overuse of contact lens, and my doctor has instructed me to go without contact lens in the said eye. Which leaves me with only one working eye, the left.
Seconds before the race started, I said a quick prayer, hoping that I wouldn't trip and fall because of my, er, handicap. I wasn't entirely confident about doing well in this race due to my limited vision, but I also wanted to prove to myself that I could hack it. After all, some people would run with injuries (and on some occasions, I would see this elderly man running fast with only one arm), so what's to stop me from running with only one contact lens on?
I was also insistent on running this Botak 5K race in particular because my first-ever run last October 2008 was also a Botak Paa-Bilisan event. Also 5K. In a way, I wanted to see how far I'd gone from my first race to this current one. Believe me, I haven't gone so far in terms of improved performance, haha. But I'm glad to see that I've made some progress in improving my endurance and pace. Because in my first race, I had a S-L-O-W total run of 43 minutes.
Today's race started late (unlike runrio races), so by the 4th kilometer, the sun was already up and the glare of its light was merciless on my poor eyes. Yup, summer's back with a vengeance, I thought to myself.
The first two kilometers were the hardest for me because my muscles still felt cold, and I was trying to adjust to running with only one good eye. To be safe and prevent myself from tripping, I stuck to the middle of the road and looked out for potholes. I was pretty conservative in my running and in my goals for this race; I just wanted to make it to the finish line, safe and in one piece. That's already a lot, considering my very poor vision.
Of course, when I saw the finish line (from my left eye), my face broke into a smile and I ran a little faster. I clocked in at 35:16 and checked my watch, which had the exact same activity time. A 7:05 pace wasn't altogether bad for this girl with the vision handicap. And when I checked my right eye afterwards, much of the redness was gone and the eye even looked a tad brighter.
This is totally encouraging. At least I can still do practice runs in the next couple of days even with one eye. Hurrah!
28 February 2009
The One-Eyed Runner 7:44 PM
Some local runners are known as The Bull Runner, Bald Runner, The Fit Mommy, and even Running Fatboy. And then there's The One-Eyed Runner.
Um, that would have to be me. Currently.
I haven't literally lost an eye, folks, but I am technically half-blind right now, and will continue to be in the next 10 days.
It all started when I attended a workshop last Thursday afternoon. Almost four hours of continuous staring at presentations flashed onscreen through an LCD projector really strained my eyes--especially the right eye. When I got back to the office, my right eye felt particularly sore, and I ignored the pain, thinking that I was just tired and that my contact lenses were going dry. By Thursday evening, after an 8K run, my right eye was smarting and had a decidedly red color. I had to remove the contact lens because it was causing me much discomfort already.
I have been wearing soft contact lenses for 13 years now, so I attributed the soreness to lack of lubrication of my eyes. Even though the lenses are for extended wear, I still have this nasty habit of keeping them on for more than 16 hours a day, which in the long run, isn't good for my eyes.
Anyone who knows me knows that I'm practically blind, so to speak. The grade of my eyes has now meteorically risen to 900 to 1,000 due to consistent abuse of this faculty; I've been reading voraciously since age 5. When I was a kid, I'd read a book every single day after homework and during my spare time (which was a lot, because kids back then had nothing much to do except watch TV and play tag anyway). And I would read anywhere, even by candlelight during those brownout years under the Ramos administration. I was so addicted to reading that my mom had to force-feed me because I refused to put a book down during lunch hours. Not kidding.
It also didn't help that my poor eyesight is genetic. My entire family--all nine of us--are eyeglass-toting people, with me winning the gold for poorest vision. I've had more pairs of glasses than I cared to count, with each new one getting thicker and more expensive as the years went by. I was already wearing contact lenses by senior high school, but I had a back-up pair of glasses with me. And when my last pair of glasses (plastic ultra thin, ultra light, ultra expensive, ultra everything) got stolen along with my bag and mobile phone at age twenty-something, I just gave up the idea of buying yet another pair--and ended up solely relying on contact lenses.
Fast forward to the year 2009, on the 28th day of February. I am sitting on a patient's chair inside the office of our family opthalmologist, meekly listening to the doctor as he admonishes me for neglecting my own eyesight for the nth time. He makes me go through a series of eye examinations (which includes him flipping my right eyelid to check the rest of my eyeball--waaaah) before issuing the verdict: my right eye is suffering from something called soft lens syndrome brought about by overuse of contact lenses. I also have a very thin retina and am highly myopic and experiencing high astigmatism. In other words, I may need corrective eye surgery at age thirty-something if my eyes continue to deteriorate.
Dr. Rey Santos (who happens to be an excellent opthalmologist and eye surgeon--one of the best, really) checks to see if the grade of my eyes has improved the last time I saw him. Left eye: 950--no change. Right eye: 1,250. Gulp. Big change. He is about to admonish me once more in his gentle, even tone of voice (which makes me feel worse because he is such an incredibly nice person) when the sound of cathedral bells is heard from his Apple iPhone. It's his alarm for the Three O' Clock Prayer.
He excuses himself to do his prayers, and I pray from my seat, only too happy to escape from his reprimand momentarily. Upon his return, we go through the usual eye chart alphabet thing-y and then he proceeds to prepare a prescription for my new eyeglass lenses (he was disappointed to know that I haven't been wearing glasses as back-up). I am told not to wear contact lens on my right eye in the next couple of days until he deems I'm ready to do so. In the meantime, I am required to get new eyeglasses, and eventually, around two weeks from now, new extended wear contact lenses.
But, he says, I should be wearing glasses while my right eye is healing. And since it takes 7 to 10 days to order my special lens (because of the extraordinarily high grade), I am currently without glasses and contact lens.
No glasses! No contact lens! How in the world am I going to see anything? I am so blind I can only see the blurred outlines of people's faces and bodies, and not their facial expressions. If I have to read something, I would have to be three inches away from the computer screen or book page. And worst of all, I would, literally, have to be helped in crossing the street.
Me being the stupid ass that I am, the first question I asked was, "Doc, can I join in tomorrow's race? Can I still run?"
I must have looked really gloomy, because Dr. Santos mulled over my question for a while and then said seriously, "Sure you can. You can still wear your contact lens on your left eye, you know, while you run. In fact, you have really no choice but to wear just one lens--unless you want to stay in bed for the next 10 days."
Yes! I am not totally blind after all! One eye is still better than nothing! I wanted to give him a big hug and say the Three O' Clock Prayer again out of sheer relief, but I restrained myself.
Of course, it's still not easy having just one eye that can see; my right eye is totally useless at this point. So this is me typing on my laptop, with the left eye working well because of my contact lens, while the right side is just a weird blur. I feel like Two-Face somehow.
Dr. Santos has instructed me to take these special anti-inflammatory, anti-bacterial eyedrops for my right eye, and another bottle of eyedrops for both my eyes to serve as a lubricant. My next check-up with him will be in 7 to 10 days, and hopefully, I'll have glasses by then. But for now, I will just have to run with only one good eye, and I think I'll manage to survive tomorrow's Botak Paa-Bilisan 5K race without tripping or falling into a pothole (I hope).
Anyway, if blind men were able to run the New York City Marathon, surely a "one-eyed" girl like me can complete a 5K race!
Um, that would have to be me. Currently.
I haven't literally lost an eye, folks, but I am technically half-blind right now, and will continue to be in the next 10 days.
It all started when I attended a workshop last Thursday afternoon. Almost four hours of continuous staring at presentations flashed onscreen through an LCD projector really strained my eyes--especially the right eye. When I got back to the office, my right eye felt particularly sore, and I ignored the pain, thinking that I was just tired and that my contact lenses were going dry. By Thursday evening, after an 8K run, my right eye was smarting and had a decidedly red color. I had to remove the contact lens because it was causing me much discomfort already.
I have been wearing soft contact lenses for 13 years now, so I attributed the soreness to lack of lubrication of my eyes. Even though the lenses are for extended wear, I still have this nasty habit of keeping them on for more than 16 hours a day, which in the long run, isn't good for my eyes.
Anyone who knows me knows that I'm practically blind, so to speak. The grade of my eyes has now meteorically risen to 900 to 1,000 due to consistent abuse of this faculty; I've been reading voraciously since age 5. When I was a kid, I'd read a book every single day after homework and during my spare time (which was a lot, because kids back then had nothing much to do except watch TV and play tag anyway). And I would read anywhere, even by candlelight during those brownout years under the Ramos administration. I was so addicted to reading that my mom had to force-feed me because I refused to put a book down during lunch hours. Not kidding.
It also didn't help that my poor eyesight is genetic. My entire family--all nine of us--are eyeglass-toting people, with me winning the gold for poorest vision. I've had more pairs of glasses than I cared to count, with each new one getting thicker and more expensive as the years went by. I was already wearing contact lenses by senior high school, but I had a back-up pair of glasses with me. And when my last pair of glasses (plastic ultra thin, ultra light, ultra expensive, ultra everything) got stolen along with my bag and mobile phone at age twenty-something, I just gave up the idea of buying yet another pair--and ended up solely relying on contact lenses.
Fast forward to the year 2009, on the 28th day of February. I am sitting on a patient's chair inside the office of our family opthalmologist, meekly listening to the doctor as he admonishes me for neglecting my own eyesight for the nth time. He makes me go through a series of eye examinations (which includes him flipping my right eyelid to check the rest of my eyeball--waaaah) before issuing the verdict: my right eye is suffering from something called soft lens syndrome brought about by overuse of contact lenses. I also have a very thin retina and am highly myopic and experiencing high astigmatism. In other words, I may need corrective eye surgery at age thirty-something if my eyes continue to deteriorate.
Dr. Rey Santos (who happens to be an excellent opthalmologist and eye surgeon--one of the best, really) checks to see if the grade of my eyes has improved the last time I saw him. Left eye: 950--no change. Right eye: 1,250. Gulp. Big change. He is about to admonish me once more in his gentle, even tone of voice (which makes me feel worse because he is such an incredibly nice person) when the sound of cathedral bells is heard from his Apple iPhone. It's his alarm for the Three O' Clock Prayer.
He excuses himself to do his prayers, and I pray from my seat, only too happy to escape from his reprimand momentarily. Upon his return, we go through the usual eye chart alphabet thing-y and then he proceeds to prepare a prescription for my new eyeglass lenses (he was disappointed to know that I haven't been wearing glasses as back-up). I am told not to wear contact lens on my right eye in the next couple of days until he deems I'm ready to do so. In the meantime, I am required to get new eyeglasses, and eventually, around two weeks from now, new extended wear contact lenses.
But, he says, I should be wearing glasses while my right eye is healing. And since it takes 7 to 10 days to order my special lens (because of the extraordinarily high grade), I am currently without glasses and contact lens.
No glasses! No contact lens! How in the world am I going to see anything? I am so blind I can only see the blurred outlines of people's faces and bodies, and not their facial expressions. If I have to read something, I would have to be three inches away from the computer screen or book page. And worst of all, I would, literally, have to be helped in crossing the street.
Me being the stupid ass that I am, the first question I asked was, "Doc, can I join in tomorrow's race? Can I still run?"
I must have looked really gloomy, because Dr. Santos mulled over my question for a while and then said seriously, "Sure you can. You can still wear your contact lens on your left eye, you know, while you run. In fact, you have really no choice but to wear just one lens--unless you want to stay in bed for the next 10 days."
Yes! I am not totally blind after all! One eye is still better than nothing! I wanted to give him a big hug and say the Three O' Clock Prayer again out of sheer relief, but I restrained myself.
Of course, it's still not easy having just one eye that can see; my right eye is totally useless at this point. So this is me typing on my laptop, with the left eye working well because of my contact lens, while the right side is just a weird blur. I feel like Two-Face somehow.
Dr. Santos has instructed me to take these special anti-inflammatory, anti-bacterial eyedrops for my right eye, and another bottle of eyedrops for both my eyes to serve as a lubricant. My next check-up with him will be in 7 to 10 days, and hopefully, I'll have glasses by then. But for now, I will just have to run with only one good eye, and I think I'll manage to survive tomorrow's Botak Paa-Bilisan 5K race without tripping or falling into a pothole (I hope).
Anyway, if blind men were able to run the New York City Marathon, surely a "one-eyed" girl like me can complete a 5K race!
27 February 2009
what to eat after a run 11:18 PM
You gotta love Runner's World for actually encouraging you to drink chocolate milk after a run.
I have strong food cravings after a run. Usually, I crave for fish with garlic rice. Beef tapa, too. But mostly fish. And ever since I started running, Pancake House has been the post-race breakfast venue of my choice because of their pan-fried bangus with garlic rice and egg, as well as their chocolate chip pancakes.
Lately though, I've been really hungering for a post-run cereal breakfast. I don't know any breakfast places (except hotels) that have cereal on their menu, simply because people would rather buy a box of cornflakes from the grocery and eat at home. But there's more joy in unwinding and having a post-run breakfast celebration in a restaurant than at home. If you know of a cheap breakfast place that includes cereal, please drop me a note.
One of the many great things about running is that you have to eat after a run. According to various health and fitness sites, there's a 15 to 60-minute "recovery window" for runners (and for people who work out in general) to refuel because it is after strenuous exercise that the body most needs nutrients to repair muscle tissue and replace glycogen stores, which are responsible for providing the body with energy during exercise. You need to replace these depleted stores; otherwise you won't have enough energy in your next run/exercise, and your performance will suffer.
Such fantastic, craving-friendly scientific truth. I'm definitely going for chocolate milk next time.
I have strong food cravings after a run. Usually, I crave for fish with garlic rice. Beef tapa, too. But mostly fish. And ever since I started running, Pancake House has been the post-race breakfast venue of my choice because of their pan-fried bangus with garlic rice and egg, as well as their chocolate chip pancakes.
Lately though, I've been really hungering for a post-run cereal breakfast. I don't know any breakfast places (except hotels) that have cereal on their menu, simply because people would rather buy a box of cornflakes from the grocery and eat at home. But there's more joy in unwinding and having a post-run breakfast celebration in a restaurant than at home. If you know of a cheap breakfast place that includes cereal, please drop me a note.
One of the many great things about running is that you have to eat after a run. According to various health and fitness sites, there's a 15 to 60-minute "recovery window" for runners (and for people who work out in general) to refuel because it is after strenuous exercise that the body most needs nutrients to repair muscle tissue and replace glycogen stores, which are responsible for providing the body with energy during exercise. You need to replace these depleted stores; otherwise you won't have enough energy in your next run/exercise, and your performance will suffer.
Such fantastic, craving-friendly scientific truth. I'm definitely going for chocolate milk next time.
04 February 2009
not so "Alive!" 2:43 PM
I knew it. I knew I'd get sick.
Stuck at home right now with a slight fever and aching bones. I get anxious, just thinking of the workload I've left behind in the office. (As a disclaimer, I'm not the only workaholic in UNICEF. A lot more of my colleagues are worse, with more than 60 unused leaves to their name. I'm in the 40+ range in terms of unused leaves, and I haven't even managed to come up with a leave plan for the year. It's so stressful.)
Because I'm such a delinquent when it comes to taking vitamins and supplements, I don't have a very good immune system. If someone I'm with has a cough or cold, I'm 95% likely to get it as well. I'm prone to fever and I feel fatigued a lot (but the latter I can attribute to lack of sleep). It's actually a miracle that I haven't collapsed during a boxing session or a run.
So when my officemate Winston was urging me (oh well, alright, "selling to me" would be the more exact term) to take Alive! Mega-Nutrionals Whole Food Energizer, I was intrigued. I need meds that would boost my immune system and keep me energized. As much as I love, love, love coffee, I also have to have a healthier alternative to staying, erm, alive and sprightly enough for my sports activities.
These energy supplements, which are produced by Nature's Way in the U.S. and distributed locally by AIM Global, contain this mega-impressive list of vitamins and minerals and what-not blends: green food/spirulina, digestive enzyme, myco defense mushroom, garden veggies, etc. Golly gee, each capsule must be a meal in itself!
Winston, who has the natural charisma and tactics of a true salesman, was able to secure a sale from me. So I got meself a box of 30 capsules, which wasn't exactly cheap by the way (Php 1,125 per box, or Php 37.50 per capsule a day). It better work. Oh, the price of staying Alive! (okay, bad joke)
To his credit, Winston vigorously attests to the health benefits of taking these supplements, as he was cured from five of his ailments. Moreover, the doctors in our office have given their seal of approval on this product (Doc Marths even bought 3 boxes), so there's no harm in trying. Besides, Alive! might actually give me that extra boost when running. And they're not steroids, ha!!
I'll start taking the meds this month, and will observe for any signs of progress.
I couldn't help but laugh though at the site's blurb on Alive!:
Stuck at home right now with a slight fever and aching bones. I get anxious, just thinking of the workload I've left behind in the office. (As a disclaimer, I'm not the only workaholic in UNICEF. A lot more of my colleagues are worse, with more than 60 unused leaves to their name. I'm in the 40+ range in terms of unused leaves, and I haven't even managed to come up with a leave plan for the year. It's so stressful.)
Because I'm such a delinquent when it comes to taking vitamins and supplements, I don't have a very good immune system. If someone I'm with has a cough or cold, I'm 95% likely to get it as well. I'm prone to fever and I feel fatigued a lot (but the latter I can attribute to lack of sleep). It's actually a miracle that I haven't collapsed during a boxing session or a run.
So when my officemate Winston was urging me (oh well, alright, "selling to me" would be the more exact term) to take Alive! Mega-Nutrionals Whole Food Energizer, I was intrigued. I need meds that would boost my immune system and keep me energized. As much as I love, love, love coffee, I also have to have a healthier alternative to staying, erm, alive and sprightly enough for my sports activities.
These energy supplements, which are produced by Nature's Way in the U.S. and distributed locally by AIM Global, contain this mega-impressive list of vitamins and minerals and what-not blends: green food/spirulina, digestive enzyme, myco defense mushroom, garden veggies, etc. Golly gee, each capsule must be a meal in itself!
Winston, who has the natural charisma and tactics of a true salesman, was able to secure a sale from me. So I got meself a box of 30 capsules, which wasn't exactly cheap by the way (Php 1,125 per box, or Php 37.50 per capsule a day). It better work. Oh, the price of staying Alive! (okay, bad joke)
To his credit, Winston vigorously attests to the health benefits of taking these supplements, as he was cured from five of his ailments. Moreover, the doctors in our office have given their seal of approval on this product (Doc Marths even bought 3 boxes), so there's no harm in trying. Besides, Alive! might actually give me that extra boost when running. And they're not steroids, ha!!
I'll start taking the meds this month, and will observe for any signs of progress.
I couldn't help but laugh though at the site's blurb on Alive!:
Alive Mega-nutritionals is the God of all supplements - The World’s First Whole food energizer and dietary supplement - The Most Nutritionally Dense Food Concentrate in the world market today. - The Most number of Anti-oxidants with approximately 16,000 Phytonutrients in one product - The Most potent Anti-aging Product in the history of supplementation. - The First Mega-Nutritionals whose ingredients work in “synergy” to produce maximum result for your body.
03 February 2009
boxing vs. running 11:56 PM
I checked my weight this morning and was deliriously happy to see that I've gone down from 96 pounds to 94. Yes! (two punches in the air)
Before the inevitable food binge last Christmas, I was at 93/94. Then Christmas came, and I totally forgot there was such a thing as exercise. I started snacking on a lot of chocolate every day during the break. Well, the chocolate didn't mercifully disappear, and instead, decidedly announced its presence through a weight gain of 2 pounds.
I should be grateful. Other people put in more pounds than that during the holiday season. But after two 5K races and Pilates now and then, those crummy 2 pounds simply didn't want to go away, damnit.
But after a dry spell in running for the past few weeks, I decided to put my energy into boxing once more--and lost the 2 pounds.
Boxing
I have this theory. My weight loss isn't as dramatic and effortless as it used to be because for medical, post cyst-removal reasons, I've been advised by my ob gyne to cut down on boxing (and even reduce my 10K running back to 5K). *sob* It must be the scar tissue. I exercised way too soon after the operation, and the scar didn't heal as quickly as it should have.
Anyway, my theory is that running doesn't give me that much-needed weight loss as compared to boxing. Don't get me wrong. I love running, but boxing lets me sweat buckets and lose pounds faster. It's useless to prettify yourself before stepping out into the ring or training floor because you end up looking like a heavily sweating Coke bottle under the noonday sun afterwards. Or like a human condom, to be more exact. Nobody can sweat and still manage to look passably attractive inside a boxing gym that has only one ceiling fan and open windows for ventilation. A person has better chances of hooking up with someone in uber slick, uber air-conditioned Fitness First.
After several rounds of struggling to deliver the dizzying number of punch combinations I am required to make (with my trainer Kuya Mong in angry-face mode, screaming out the combos and throwing a soft punch to my rib now and then as a warning for me to keep up), I am usually made to position myself on a mat to begin the cool-down exercises.
Which is a ridiculous term, really.
There's nothing so 'cool-down' about 100-150 crunches after a hard boxing session. Boxing is so old school: the trainer works you up into a sweat in the ring, and then tells you to get down on the floor and counts matter-of-factly as you deliver--humbly and minion-like--all those crunches. And that's that. None of those extra fancy Pilates movements which Mong dismisses with a snort.
By the time I'm done with my morning boxing workout, I am ready to hit the sack. While I'm allowed to eat anything I like after boxing (Kuya Mong even recommends, in a very businesslike tone, the inclusion of both rice and beans in my post-workout meal), I usually don't have the energy to eat. I just stagger home, grunt a hello to my mom, shower, and collapse onto my bed. When I wake up several hours later, I am happy to have a light-to-medium sized meal and my afternoon cup of coffee.
This twice-a-week exercise routine can certainly explain the loss of 16 pounds and shrinking of my tummy. Boxing really works, and I'd encourage anyone to try it. At the risk of sounding like an infomercial for slimming products, I can pretty much attest that in a few months' time, you'll get the results you want, and you won't gain back easily the weight you worked so hard to lose. I've been boxing for more than a year now, and I have the freedom to eat whatever I want without worrying about gaining 5 or more pounds. Gaining 2 or 3 pounds, in my case (without being smug or boastful), is as extreme as it can get.
Running
While boxing lets you expel energy in, er, spurts, as you punch, running is just one continuous stretch of torture. Which makes it exciting and terrifying at the same time.
I don't box to compete because the vain part of me doesn't want to get all bloody and beaten up (a bruised rib for two weeks was enough to convince me that I had no career as a boxing athlete). But in running, well, one is forced to compete--whether it's against one's last personal record, or PR (your best time at a given distance) or against the rest of the crowd in an organized race.
Personally, running is a pride thing. I certainly don't want to end up last in a race. And the scary possibility of being the last is enough to push me to continue running--lungs bursting and all--and finish decently. I got hooked into running, thanks to my officemate Cecil, just last October and I've joined a couple of fun runs (5K and 10K) since then. I wouldn't consider myself fast because, well, I currently run at a trailblazing speed of 7:26 per km--harhar. Obviously, I'm a beginner at this sport, and I just need to work on improving my pace. If I could attain a sub 7 pace this February, I'd be really, really pleased.
Like boxing, running is a humbling exercise. There is a great pride in finishing the race, certainly, but it's the feeling of humility that's dominant within me during a run. As I go through that agonizing stretch of road and forcing, ALWAYS forcing myself not to stop running--I can really feel how utterly human I am: the pools of sweat rolling down my back and arms, each expelled breath coming out as a measured gasp, the constant physical upper body ache (never the legs, strangely enough), and worst of all, the uncomfortable slight throbbing of my scar in the pelvic area (how very Harry Potter-like but not as glorious).
With nothing but the road before you and the playlist on your iPod to keep you going, you spend a good 30 minutes to an hour (depending on your race distance) keenly undergoing a masochistic immersion into physical pain. But the bad feeling disappears when you see the finish line in sight, and you hear people cheering, and then you suddenly obtain that extra rush of adrenalin that gets you to the end of the race. And it's all natural euphoria after that.
No wonder some people liken running to a love-hate relationship.
There are bad running days sometimes--days when I honestly can't reach the finish line without stopping to walk in some parts (and I curse myself vehemently for stopping). Everyone has days like those. But there are also blissful race days when I just run and run--mentally willing myself to ignore the side stitches, the dry throat, the perennial throbbing of the scar--and keep on running until I cross the finish line. Some people talk to their injured knees or shins while they run; I talk to my scar and ask it to let me finish the race without stopping to walk.
It's an insane sport in that sense, luring stubborn people like me to run even when the doctors advise against it. The scar pain IS troublesome, I admit, and as a means of meeting my ob gyne halfway and appeasing her wrath, I've demoted myself back to 5K. Which I'm perfectly happy to do, because 10K is simply grueling and I honestly think I'm not good enough for that race distance. Yet.
You would think, after my description of the pain and sweat encountered in running, that one 5K race would at least make you lose, like, 5 pounds immediately. Sadly, this isn't the case (unless you have incredible superhuman metabolism), and just like boxing, there are no shortcuts. One has to run regularly to eventually lose pounds and achieve toned muscles.
But in my case, I've noticed that I don't lose as much weight in running as compared to boxing. Oops.
I'm pretty sure it's because of the delicious meal that awaits me after each and every race. You can't help it; you NEED to eat after all that continuous running. I'm not a breakfast person at all, but after every race, that plate of garlic rice with beef tapa and/or fish that the waiter places in front of me is wiped clean in 7 minutes.
So in order to offset all that carbo loading, I gotta run more regularly. If my work schedule would have allowed me, I'd attend proper (and free!) running lessons at Coach Rio's Nike Running Training Clinic in ULTRA every night. Unfortunately, ULTRA's too far and I always do overtime at the office. Sigh. My newfound friend and fellow race runner Lara (who's a runner since high school) is a participant in that clinic though, and the training is totally boosting her running performance these days. I'm sure she'll place in the top three in a 5K run this 2009.
As I have no ambitions in winning a medal for running, recreational running is just fine with me, thank you. It's a great complementary training activity to my boxing and Pilates, and an excellent sport for increasing endurance and mental willpower.
But being the restless creature that I am, I'm not going to stick to just three sports activities. I want to take up--very soon, I hope--spinning. Spinning! Whee! I haven't even started, and I'm excited already.
PS. After reading through what I've just written, I just thought, mehn, this blog entry's long. Hope I didn't bore anyone who happened to chance upon this blog with my lengthy descriptions of pain. Whoever you may be, kind reader, feel free to stop reading whenever you see the words "sweat" or "throbbing scar" in this little blog.
Before the inevitable food binge last Christmas, I was at 93/94. Then Christmas came, and I totally forgot there was such a thing as exercise. I started snacking on a lot of chocolate every day during the break. Well, the chocolate didn't mercifully disappear, and instead, decidedly announced its presence through a weight gain of 2 pounds.
I should be grateful. Other people put in more pounds than that during the holiday season. But after two 5K races and Pilates now and then, those crummy 2 pounds simply didn't want to go away, damnit.
But after a dry spell in running for the past few weeks, I decided to put my energy into boxing once more--and lost the 2 pounds.
Boxing
I have this theory. My weight loss isn't as dramatic and effortless as it used to be because for medical, post cyst-removal reasons, I've been advised by my ob gyne to cut down on boxing (and even reduce my 10K running back to 5K). *sob* It must be the scar tissue. I exercised way too soon after the operation, and the scar didn't heal as quickly as it should have.
Anyway, my theory is that running doesn't give me that much-needed weight loss as compared to boxing. Don't get me wrong. I love running, but boxing lets me sweat buckets and lose pounds faster. It's useless to prettify yourself before stepping out into the ring or training floor because you end up looking like a heavily sweating Coke bottle under the noonday sun afterwards. Or like a human condom, to be more exact. Nobody can sweat and still manage to look passably attractive inside a boxing gym that has only one ceiling fan and open windows for ventilation. A person has better chances of hooking up with someone in uber slick, uber air-conditioned Fitness First.
After several rounds of struggling to deliver the dizzying number of punch combinations I am required to make (with my trainer Kuya Mong in angry-face mode, screaming out the combos and throwing a soft punch to my rib now and then as a warning for me to keep up), I am usually made to position myself on a mat to begin the cool-down exercises.
Which is a ridiculous term, really.
There's nothing so 'cool-down' about 100-150 crunches after a hard boxing session. Boxing is so old school: the trainer works you up into a sweat in the ring, and then tells you to get down on the floor and counts matter-of-factly as you deliver--humbly and minion-like--all those crunches. And that's that. None of those extra fancy Pilates movements which Mong dismisses with a snort.
By the time I'm done with my morning boxing workout, I am ready to hit the sack. While I'm allowed to eat anything I like after boxing (Kuya Mong even recommends, in a very businesslike tone, the inclusion of both rice and beans in my post-workout meal), I usually don't have the energy to eat. I just stagger home, grunt a hello to my mom, shower, and collapse onto my bed. When I wake up several hours later, I am happy to have a light-to-medium sized meal and my afternoon cup of coffee.
This twice-a-week exercise routine can certainly explain the loss of 16 pounds and shrinking of my tummy. Boxing really works, and I'd encourage anyone to try it. At the risk of sounding like an infomercial for slimming products, I can pretty much attest that in a few months' time, you'll get the results you want, and you won't gain back easily the weight you worked so hard to lose. I've been boxing for more than a year now, and I have the freedom to eat whatever I want without worrying about gaining 5 or more pounds. Gaining 2 or 3 pounds, in my case (without being smug or boastful), is as extreme as it can get.
Running
While boxing lets you expel energy in, er, spurts, as you punch, running is just one continuous stretch of torture. Which makes it exciting and terrifying at the same time.
I don't box to compete because the vain part of me doesn't want to get all bloody and beaten up (a bruised rib for two weeks was enough to convince me that I had no career as a boxing athlete). But in running, well, one is forced to compete--whether it's against one's last personal record, or PR (your best time at a given distance) or against the rest of the crowd in an organized race.
Personally, running is a pride thing. I certainly don't want to end up last in a race. And the scary possibility of being the last is enough to push me to continue running--lungs bursting and all--and finish decently. I got hooked into running, thanks to my officemate Cecil, just last October and I've joined a couple of fun runs (5K and 10K) since then. I wouldn't consider myself fast because, well, I currently run at a trailblazing speed of 7:26 per km--harhar. Obviously, I'm a beginner at this sport, and I just need to work on improving my pace. If I could attain a sub 7 pace this February, I'd be really, really pleased.
Like boxing, running is a humbling exercise. There is a great pride in finishing the race, certainly, but it's the feeling of humility that's dominant within me during a run. As I go through that agonizing stretch of road and forcing, ALWAYS forcing myself not to stop running--I can really feel how utterly human I am: the pools of sweat rolling down my back and arms, each expelled breath coming out as a measured gasp, the constant physical upper body ache (never the legs, strangely enough), and worst of all, the uncomfortable slight throbbing of my scar in the pelvic area (how very Harry Potter-like but not as glorious).
With nothing but the road before you and the playlist on your iPod to keep you going, you spend a good 30 minutes to an hour (depending on your race distance) keenly undergoing a masochistic immersion into physical pain. But the bad feeling disappears when you see the finish line in sight, and you hear people cheering, and then you suddenly obtain that extra rush of adrenalin that gets you to the end of the race. And it's all natural euphoria after that.
No wonder some people liken running to a love-hate relationship.
There are bad running days sometimes--days when I honestly can't reach the finish line without stopping to walk in some parts (and I curse myself vehemently for stopping). Everyone has days like those. But there are also blissful race days when I just run and run--mentally willing myself to ignore the side stitches, the dry throat, the perennial throbbing of the scar--and keep on running until I cross the finish line. Some people talk to their injured knees or shins while they run; I talk to my scar and ask it to let me finish the race without stopping to walk.
It's an insane sport in that sense, luring stubborn people like me to run even when the doctors advise against it. The scar pain IS troublesome, I admit, and as a means of meeting my ob gyne halfway and appeasing her wrath, I've demoted myself back to 5K. Which I'm perfectly happy to do, because 10K is simply grueling and I honestly think I'm not good enough for that race distance. Yet.
You would think, after my description of the pain and sweat encountered in running, that one 5K race would at least make you lose, like, 5 pounds immediately. Sadly, this isn't the case (unless you have incredible superhuman metabolism), and just like boxing, there are no shortcuts. One has to run regularly to eventually lose pounds and achieve toned muscles.
But in my case, I've noticed that I don't lose as much weight in running as compared to boxing. Oops.
I'm pretty sure it's because of the delicious meal that awaits me after each and every race. You can't help it; you NEED to eat after all that continuous running. I'm not a breakfast person at all, but after every race, that plate of garlic rice with beef tapa and/or fish that the waiter places in front of me is wiped clean in 7 minutes.
So in order to offset all that carbo loading, I gotta run more regularly. If my work schedule would have allowed me, I'd attend proper (and free!) running lessons at Coach Rio's Nike Running Training Clinic in ULTRA every night. Unfortunately, ULTRA's too far and I always do overtime at the office. Sigh. My newfound friend and fellow race runner Lara (who's a runner since high school) is a participant in that clinic though, and the training is totally boosting her running performance these days. I'm sure she'll place in the top three in a 5K run this 2009.
As I have no ambitions in winning a medal for running, recreational running is just fine with me, thank you. It's a great complementary training activity to my boxing and Pilates, and an excellent sport for increasing endurance and mental willpower.
But being the restless creature that I am, I'm not going to stick to just three sports activities. I want to take up--very soon, I hope--spinning. Spinning! Whee! I haven't even started, and I'm excited already.
PS. After reading through what I've just written, I just thought, mehn, this blog entry's long. Hope I didn't bore anyone who happened to chance upon this blog with my lengthy descriptions of pain. Whoever you may be, kind reader, feel free to stop reading whenever you see the words "sweat" or "throbbing scar" in this little blog.
Legaspi Park 8:34 PM
A picked me up from work earlier this evening (yes, we still see each other regularly), and invited me at the last minute to run tonight.
Drat. I've been wanting to run for the past few days, but work has kept me busy. Now that I'm able to get out of the office early (8 pm is already early by my standards), my body isn't conditioned to run. Woke up this morning with aching bones and a generally unwell feeling. Oh no. Hope i don't come down with the flu or something.
So here I am, sitting inside A's parked car, typing this entry while he does a 25-minute jog/run around Legaspi Park. I haven't run in this place before, and to my surprise, it's full of people at this hour. I suppose it's a convenient park for running and walking after office hours since it's situated in the middle of office buildings.
Legaspi Park is bigger compared to Salcedo Park (where I do practice runs at night during weekdays), with the former having a nice little uphill path for a bit of running challenge. But the path in Legaspi Park is narrow, and one has to overtake and weave his way through the little groups of people leisurely walking so as not to break the running momentum. But I'll definitely give the place a try one of these days.
While I'm currently doing weight maintenance and improving my pace, A is trying to lose weight in a major way. He intends to lose 20 pounds, and I'm helping him with his diet (Actually, it's not a diet, as I honestly, honestly don't believe in crash diets. It's simply all about proper eating habits and nutrition. I'm not a nutrition expert, and all I'm saying is that if people researched more about good dieting, they'd be able to slim down AND learn how to eat properly without feeling deprived. But I should stop ranting now.)
My next planned run is on February 15 at SM Mall of Asia, by the bay (if I manage to register on time). The route consists of a fairly even path--unlike Fort Bonifacio's gently sloping terrain--so it should be a relaxing run. Here's hoping my PR gets better!
Drat. I've been wanting to run for the past few days, but work has kept me busy. Now that I'm able to get out of the office early (8 pm is already early by my standards), my body isn't conditioned to run. Woke up this morning with aching bones and a generally unwell feeling. Oh no. Hope i don't come down with the flu or something.
So here I am, sitting inside A's parked car, typing this entry while he does a 25-minute jog/run around Legaspi Park. I haven't run in this place before, and to my surprise, it's full of people at this hour. I suppose it's a convenient park for running and walking after office hours since it's situated in the middle of office buildings.
Legaspi Park is bigger compared to Salcedo Park (where I do practice runs at night during weekdays), with the former having a nice little uphill path for a bit of running challenge. But the path in Legaspi Park is narrow, and one has to overtake and weave his way through the little groups of people leisurely walking so as not to break the running momentum. But I'll definitely give the place a try one of these days.
While I'm currently doing weight maintenance and improving my pace, A is trying to lose weight in a major way. He intends to lose 20 pounds, and I'm helping him with his diet (Actually, it's not a diet, as I honestly, honestly don't believe in crash diets. It's simply all about proper eating habits and nutrition. I'm not a nutrition expert, and all I'm saying is that if people researched more about good dieting, they'd be able to slim down AND learn how to eat properly without feeling deprived. But I should stop ranting now.)
My next planned run is on February 15 at SM Mall of Asia, by the bay (if I manage to register on time). The route consists of a fairly even path--unlike Fort Bonifacio's gently sloping terrain--so it should be a relaxing run. Here's hoping my PR gets better!
01 February 2009
So what's your resolution? 9:04 PM
Sent this in an email to my officemates last January 13. Hopefully, I'll stick to completing this list by the end of the year. I swear, there's something so satisfying about having a list of goals to accomplish.
What can I say? I'm a list freak.
Well, as of today, I've managed to complete Resolution #1. Meet my shiny, newly-cleaned desk:
I am SO proud. A few months' back, that desk looked like a rat hole. And the way the books used to be piled up on the table was such a deplorable sight.
For someone who works at her desk 10-12 hours a weekday, that table has to contain all the creature comforts that will make the job more enjoyable. In my case, it's a tiny corner of books, a 1997 Manuel Baldemor painting, my Mac and Moleskine notebook which are with me everywhere I go, my daily after-lunch grande cup of Starbucks Coffee, and a nice bottle of wine (which is currently the recipient of many greedy looks from my male officemates).
I have big plans for that bottle of wine. There's this scenario in my head: in case of a major earthquake, and I happen to be stuck in the office, that bottle of wine will keep me alive for days--and weeks perhaps--while I wait to be extracted from the rubble.
Provided that the bottle doesn't shatter of course when the earthquake occurs.
Resolution #2: Working on this. I currently weigh 96 pounds and I need to bring it down to 95 or less. Of course, I get the usual withering looks and rolling-of-eyes from friends and officemates who think I'm being anorexic because of such "unnecessary" weight obsession--but if you have reached 110 pounds (and I DID look fat at 110 pounds, I SWEAR), you would NEVER want to return to that kind of weight status again. Just to let you know, my height is 5'0", so 110 pounds isn't exactly proportional to that height.
Resolution #8: I bought a copy of the book, but I haven't gotten around to identifying which books to read.
Resolution #5b: The geek in me is so excited to buy a portable HD for Carlos (that's the name of my Mac; I named him after the guy in Senco Link who does an excellent job in repairing and upgrading my Mac). Senco has really good service, by the way. Highly recommended Mac service provider.
So anyway, back to the thrilling notion of purchasing a portable back-up drive: upon the recommendation of the IT guys in my office, I have decided to get a Western Digital My Passport Studio 320GB Portable Hard Drive.
My God, doesn't it absolutely make you pant in desire?
Alas, the price of a 500GB model of WD My Passport Studio is too steep for me, so I will just settle for the 320GB option (approximately Php 7,600--not altogether bad!). I prefer this to the Seagate Free Agent Go 500GB, which doesn't have a FireWire port. Yup, WD My Passport Studio is the way to go.
What can I say? I'm a list freak.
Dear Friends,
Before leaving the office tonight, I decided to take out my little Moleskine notebook and finally put into writing that much-abused, much-dreaded, and ignored-as-much-as-possible list.
THE. LIST.
In other words, my list of New Year's Resolutions. It's a bit corny and trite, but I think writing down my resolutions for 2009 helps put things in perspective and gets me excited (at least for now). And I realize, if one is going to accomplish a list of New Year's resolutions, these things have to have the following characteristics:
1. must be very exact (read: not as vague as "lose weight")
2. must be realistic (para naman may wonderful sense of accomplishment)
3. must be fun to accomplish!
As you can see, I've had too much coffee, and I'm very much awake, but the caffeine is keeping me all shiny and happy and positive. O diba, para na rin ako nagsulat ng blog entry (which I haven't done in years, and my blog is sadly abandoned and floating somewhere in cyberspace)
I'm sharing my list---and hopefully, one of these days, you can share me yours as well (so that we can check on each other during the year??? harhar)
GINA'S LIST OF 2009 RESOLUTIONS
1. Clean office desk and work area. (This is something I'm really excited about. If I can get my hands on the office paper shredder, this task gets even better.)
2. Maintain weight of at least 95 pounds and below. (O diba, something exact and realistic and fun to accomplish!)
3. Complete my audio French 1 lessons ("Poo-voh-noo noo-sahsz-swa doo-wah?"). So that I can finally move on to Intermediate French after all these years of learning to speak basic French during sporadic fits of diligence. Good God, nakakahiya.
4. Shorten my reading backlog!!!!
5. Buy any or all of the following this year:
- simpler mobile phone unit
- portable external hard drive for my Mac
- point-and-shoot (Maybe a Canon Ixus? At some point in my life, I have to start toting my own little camera instead of asking for copies of those Kodak moments from other people. Basta ganun.)
- keyboard protector for my Mac (to avoid crying over spilt coffee--er, milk--in the future)
6. Regular check-ups with the ob gyne and dentist. For a healthier new me. Anlupeht.
7. Do not sweat the small stuff. I will not kill myself over the things that are not worth worrying about. The Lord will always provide.
8. Get the latest edition of 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die. And then, from that list of 1001 books, do the following:
- count how many I've read
- identify and enumerate the books I haven't read and REALLY NEED to read before I die
9. Be guided by the Donor Communication Plan--even if it's a running plan.
I didn't put "fall in love" or "be nicer to the people I don't like" in this list. Because unlike getting an A in a history test, you can't force these things to happen. Hahaha. =P
Gina
1:33 am
Time remaining for Rakrakan DVD burning process to be completed: 4 hours & 21 minutes (I will not sweat the small stuff, I will not sweat the small stuff)
Well, as of today, I've managed to complete Resolution #1. Meet my shiny, newly-cleaned desk:
I am SO proud. A few months' back, that desk looked like a rat hole. And the way the books used to be piled up on the table was such a deplorable sight. For someone who works at her desk 10-12 hours a weekday, that table has to contain all the creature comforts that will make the job more enjoyable. In my case, it's a tiny corner of books, a 1997 Manuel Baldemor painting, my Mac and Moleskine notebook which are with me everywhere I go, my daily after-lunch grande cup of Starbucks Coffee, and a nice bottle of wine (which is currently the recipient of many greedy looks from my male officemates).
I have big plans for that bottle of wine. There's this scenario in my head: in case of a major earthquake, and I happen to be stuck in the office, that bottle of wine will keep me alive for days--and weeks perhaps--while I wait to be extracted from the rubble.
Provided that the bottle doesn't shatter of course when the earthquake occurs.
Resolution #2: Working on this. I currently weigh 96 pounds and I need to bring it down to 95 or less. Of course, I get the usual withering looks and rolling-of-eyes from friends and officemates who think I'm being anorexic because of such "unnecessary" weight obsession--but if you have reached 110 pounds (and I DID look fat at 110 pounds, I SWEAR), you would NEVER want to return to that kind of weight status again. Just to let you know, my height is 5'0", so 110 pounds isn't exactly proportional to that height.
Resolution #8: I bought a copy of the book, but I haven't gotten around to identifying which books to read.
Resolution #5b: The geek in me is so excited to buy a portable HD for Carlos (that's the name of my Mac; I named him after the guy in Senco Link who does an excellent job in repairing and upgrading my Mac). Senco has really good service, by the way. Highly recommended Mac service provider.
So anyway, back to the thrilling notion of purchasing a portable back-up drive: upon the recommendation of the IT guys in my office, I have decided to get a Western Digital My Passport Studio 320GB Portable Hard Drive.
My God, doesn't it absolutely make you pant in desire?
Alas, the price of a 500GB model of WD My Passport Studio is too steep for me, so I will just settle for the 320GB option (approximately Php 7,600--not altogether bad!). I prefer this to the Seagate Free Agent Go 500GB, which doesn't have a FireWire port. Yup, WD My Passport Studio is the way to go.
back after a 2-year hiatus 7:45 PM
Well, I've been lazy, I admit.
I've pretty much abandoned this blog for 2 years. A lot has happened since then: breaking up with two boyfriends (ugh, 2007 totally sucked), a major operation involving the removal of a dermoid cyst in my right ovary, my dad's death (so many things I should have said and done for him, and I feel grieved, just thinking how I wasn't really that good a daughter), very stressful fundraising goals in UNICEF, cross-training exercises to lose weight and feel healthy once more, casual dating, etc. I'd like to gloss over the details for now and start again with a clean slate.
Basically, i just want to go back to writing. At least, as a sort of cathartic exercise to ensure that I'm maintaining a good command of the English language, which I love to pieces. Haha. I'm not pretentious; I've never considered myself to be a good writer even though other people think otherwise. I gotta love them for thinking that way. But I've always felt that those who can't write, just read--and I honestly believe I fall solidly under that category.
And the most appropriate thing for me to do, as my way of returning from this dreadful no-writing state, is to come up with a list of books to read/finish this 2009.
It's a running list by the way. I'm an impulsive book buyer, and I tend to buy books that aren't on the original list, so this list isn't really carved in stone:
1. My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk. I've been so silly. Started this book 2 years ago and I haven't gotten around to finishing it.
2. Atlas Shrugged: Centennial Edition by Ayn Rand. Read a dog-eared mass market paperback copy of this back in college and didn't really appreciate it. I bought this edition in KL last year, and it's been sitting on my office desk, screaming to be read.
3. Patience and Fortitude by Nicholas Basbanes. Okay, I'm a complete nerd for wanting to read this. But honestly, any bibliophile would have read any of Basbanes' works on the printed word.
4. Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler. Not done with this book yet, and I probably won't finish anytime soon. The book is as mad and as excruciatingly long as Frodo's journey to Mordor, but necessary for me to accomplish as well.
5. The History of The Hobbit: Part One: Mr. Baggins by John D. Rateliff. If you've managed to read J.R.R. Tolkien's numerous drafts of The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings (and his son Christopher's dry commentaries on the said drafts) like I have, you can basically read anything. Harhar.
6. The History of The Hobbit: Part Two: Return to Bag-End by John D. Rateliff.
7. The Masks of God: Occidental Mythology by Joseph Campbell. Joseph Campbell rocks. Joseph Campbell is the bees' knees--next to J.R.R. Tolkien, of course.
8. The Final Solution: A Story of Detection by Michael Chabon. Saw a copy of this in Borders, KL and I totally regret not buying it. Now I can't seem to find a copy here in Manila. Drat.
9. Natural Flights of the Human Mind by Clare Norall
10. The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood. I bought an amazingly good secondhand copy in RCBC Plaza's Books for Less branch at a really cheap price. A good book find always counts as a small victory.
This list actually constitutes my backlog. Some of these books are on my office desk to remind me that I gotta finish them before I even have the right to buy new ones. Obviously, I plan to read more than 10 books this year, but the ones mentioned above are my priority reads.
A good friend once told me that the mark of a serious reader is that he/she will always have a decidedly huge backlog of books (that pretty much cheered me up and made me feel less guilty about the pile-up of books on my desk). And according to Philip Roth, a reader is not one that just reads a lot, but obsesses over what he/she is going to read.
Yup, that's me alright.
I've pretty much abandoned this blog for 2 years. A lot has happened since then: breaking up with two boyfriends (ugh, 2007 totally sucked), a major operation involving the removal of a dermoid cyst in my right ovary, my dad's death (so many things I should have said and done for him, and I feel grieved, just thinking how I wasn't really that good a daughter), very stressful fundraising goals in UNICEF, cross-training exercises to lose weight and feel healthy once more, casual dating, etc. I'd like to gloss over the details for now and start again with a clean slate.
Basically, i just want to go back to writing. At least, as a sort of cathartic exercise to ensure that I'm maintaining a good command of the English language, which I love to pieces. Haha. I'm not pretentious; I've never considered myself to be a good writer even though other people think otherwise. I gotta love them for thinking that way. But I've always felt that those who can't write, just read--and I honestly believe I fall solidly under that category.
And the most appropriate thing for me to do, as my way of returning from this dreadful no-writing state, is to come up with a list of books to read/finish this 2009.
It's a running list by the way. I'm an impulsive book buyer, and I tend to buy books that aren't on the original list, so this list isn't really carved in stone:
1. My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk. I've been so silly. Started this book 2 years ago and I haven't gotten around to finishing it.
2. Atlas Shrugged: Centennial Edition by Ayn Rand. Read a dog-eared mass market paperback copy of this back in college and didn't really appreciate it. I bought this edition in KL last year, and it's been sitting on my office desk, screaming to be read.
3. Patience and Fortitude by Nicholas Basbanes. Okay, I'm a complete nerd for wanting to read this. But honestly, any bibliophile would have read any of Basbanes' works on the printed word.
4. Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler. Not done with this book yet, and I probably won't finish anytime soon. The book is as mad and as excruciatingly long as Frodo's journey to Mordor, but necessary for me to accomplish as well.
5. The History of The Hobbit: Part One: Mr. Baggins by John D. Rateliff. If you've managed to read J.R.R. Tolkien's numerous drafts of The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings (and his son Christopher's dry commentaries on the said drafts) like I have, you can basically read anything. Harhar.
6. The History of The Hobbit: Part Two: Return to Bag-End by John D. Rateliff.
7. The Masks of God: Occidental Mythology by Joseph Campbell. Joseph Campbell rocks. Joseph Campbell is the bees' knees--next to J.R.R. Tolkien, of course.
8. The Final Solution: A Story of Detection by Michael Chabon. Saw a copy of this in Borders, KL and I totally regret not buying it. Now I can't seem to find a copy here in Manila. Drat.
9. Natural Flights of the Human Mind by Clare Norall
10. The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood. I bought an amazingly good secondhand copy in RCBC Plaza's Books for Less branch at a really cheap price. A good book find always counts as a small victory.
This list actually constitutes my backlog. Some of these books are on my office desk to remind me that I gotta finish them before I even have the right to buy new ones. Obviously, I plan to read more than 10 books this year, but the ones mentioned above are my priority reads.
A good friend once told me that the mark of a serious reader is that he/she will always have a decidedly huge backlog of books (that pretty much cheered me up and made me feel less guilty about the pile-up of books on my desk). And according to Philip Roth, a reader is not one that just reads a lot, but obsesses over what he/she is going to read.
Yup, that's me alright.
