"REGULAR" GYM

So I'm in San Jose for a few days visiting my parents, who by the way left two days after I got here to go home to The Bahamas. Great timing, right??!! Anyway, because I don't have access to a college weightroom, I was forced to go the local 24 Hour Fitness Gym to get my weight workout in yesterday. Any athlete who lifts weights seriously, particularly any females out there, can appreciate what I mean when I say that lifting weights at a "regular" gym, is something I'd rather not do.

I don't mean anything offensive by saying this, but it just never is quite the same as when you lift at a University athletic gym or say at Disney. In these types of environments, everyone is on the same page, with a specific workout goal in mind. It's not social, well maybe a little, but work gets done! In the "regular" gym, there is soooo much more going on in there.

There are the muscle men who only lift all these heavy weights on their upper bodies and want to make sure that everyone else hears and sees them; there are the glamour girls in the latest spandex outfit and tons of makeup without an ounce of sweat to be found anywhere; there are the people who really don't know what they're doing, just taking their sweet time to figure out the machines; and there are just the socialites who have decided that the gym is the best place to find a date or just have conversation. Of course, there are some people in there who really came to workout too but, they seem to be few and far between.

So a female athlete comes in, who they realize is NOT a "regular" and the first thing you see is all the eyes following you, then everyone wants to come up and ask "if you run track", or if you're a police woman, lol, or why you're doing power cleans or if you need a spot?! So nice of everyone and I know people have the best of intentions but a workout that normally would take an hour ends up taking one and a half to 2 hrs by the time you politely answer all the questions and wait for the one squat rack to open up.....can you sense my frustration:) Oh well, in the end, it's just part of the deal I guess and you gotta do what you gotta do to get the workout in.

I have to go back tomorrow but I think I'm going to wear my I-pod and see if that helps. I've tried that tactic before and people usually just come up and tap you on your shoulder to make sure you hear them, lol. Oh well, good thing I don't have too much else on my schedule.

LORD HAVE MERCY....

This posting is for all the track people out there and all others who can empathize with running yourself into the ground to the point that you lose all shame. So today I had a relatively basic workout, in comparison to some of the other workouts I've done this year, or so I thought. I had two 200 meter runs and two 150 meter runs, with about 6-7 mins between.

OK - not so tough considering I've been only having 4 mins rest between my intervals up until a couple weeks ago. But as we all know, when the rest time lengthens, the run times have to drop. Fair enough! I had a certain time in mind to run the 200s in and when I crossed the finish line after the first one and realised that I ran more than a second too fast, I knew I was in for trouble. This is something we are all familiar with. If you don't pace yourself properly on the first run, you WILL PAY for it at the end!! Yes I know to the average person, the difference between running 27.3 or 4 seconds and running 25.9 secs seems minute. Trust me when I say it's not.

Then to add insult to injury, I ran the second one too fast also, by more than half a second . On the one hand that implies that I am in pretty decent shape, but on the other hand, after the second 200m my head started to spin already. Oh dear, trouble was coming...

So I gather myself and wander back towards the start of the 150m already not seeing too clearly. But once my rest time is up, I step up to the line and take off running. With about 50meters to go, I start feeling that unpleasant feeling in my legs that you can only truly understand if you have ever had this unfortunate experience for yourself. Lord have mercy....cause I still have one more 150m to go. This guy that has been helping me time my runs starts telling me how my arms weren't in perfect form for the last 50m and I want to tell him where to go, but I am too tired.

After bending over with my hands on my knees, for about a minute... you know, the position, I make myself move back towards the start line, telling myself that in less than 19 secs I will be done, that I will treat myself to a Robek's fruit smoothie when this is all over with, that I will treat myself to a new pair of shoes if I make the time - hey man, whatever it takes - I step up to the line again, say a prayer and just go.

I leave the line with a surprising burst of speed and somehow manage to hold myself together throughout the run. OK so maybe that arm technique stuff actually makes a difference and I actually run the same time that I did on the first 150m. I immediately run off the track and onto the infield turf and fall prostrate on my back. This is not something that I usually do but for some reason today, I do and I don't care. Thankfully there were very few people at the track to witness this display! I always wonder if when a "normal" person sees someone like myself run themself into the ground, do they wonder if I am crazy or if I'm into self torture or something.

Suffice to say, I think the feeling of a lack of oxygen combined with lactic acid renders a person into a state that must be similar to giving birth when you DON'T CARE what anyone thinks about how you look! I lay there for about 2 or 3 minutes and then force myself to make another deal that if I can just get to my clothes, I will get a prize of some sort. I'm too tired to figure out what that prize is actually going to be. I make it to my clothes, but my head is still dizzy, my breath is still somewhat labored and my legs are taking their sweet time to release the lactic.

And then, just as it does every time out, the side effects finally go away. I walk a lap and jog a lap, stretch and jump in my new car:) and head home. So it goes in another day in the life of an Olympic track and field athlete. No pain, no gain!!! No guts, no glory!! Yeah, yeah...Makes sense now...just don't tell me that when I'm in the middle of the workout because I might fight you to the death. Actually no, I'd be too tired to do that.....