Halfway There. Keep Flapping Those Wings. Pure Bikram's 60-Day Challenge

In December, I wrote something for an Austin blogger's site about my tendency towards all-or-nothing behavior ("The Mysterious Middle" for MizFitOnline). Well, looks like extreme won over moderation again. For the last 29 days and 30 classes, I've been participating in Pure Bikram's 60-Day Challenge. Halfway there.

I completed a Bikram challenge in 2009 and loved it, but unfortunately, just two days afterwards, I had a freak accident on a rollerskating rink and severely ruptured my L4/L5 disc, leaving me no choice but to have back surgery.  Crazy, crazy to have my 60 days stripped away from me like that, but at least it happened after I was finished and not on like Day 59!

Random thoughts, moments, images so far for this challenge...

My braids. I'm not cool like Willie, but this is the hairstyle I'm usually sporting in class. Sometimes a single braid in the back, but the double works better when I'm lying in savasana.

"Why does your Rabbit pose suck?" During Class 6, the teacher shared with us how her dad had seen photos from the Texas Yoga Asana Championship and offered this subtle critique to her. So funny. Rabbit is definitely my most challenging posture. Quoting from another post I wrote, "But I've always had a sick rabbit, and I don't mean sick as in 'This beat is sick' (Yes, Lady Gaga). I mean sick as in you want to rush my rabbit to the vet."

I've discussed this MRI image on my blog plenty of times, and here I go again. One of the images of my back injury (one year after surgery, actually). My spinal canal is pretty and wide till you get down to L4/L5. Then it gets ugly. (Click on it. Get a close look.) I also have scoliosis. A curvy, twisty slide inside, causing my right shoulder blade to stick out. Wore a brace for 2 years in middle school--lots of fun. I have no idea if these things contribute to my struggle to do Rabbit, but ugh. That dang pose. I'll get you someday, Rabbit. Fatal Attraction, Glen Close style. (Just kidding--I love critter friends.)

Did you know that at the Westlake studio, when your ear is to the floor during savasana of the spine-strengthening series, you can sometimes hear some kind of secret factory down below? Like a Wonka chocolate factory. Or maybe it's a top secret, Apple computer lab, and they're inventing a teeny tiny ipod that you can hide inside your ear canals. Soon, I'll be secretly jamming during class. The Bikram teachers will never know.

Sometimes the heat and humidity wins. The mind game is too hard that day, and my patience slips away. On the outside, I may look like business as usual, but on the inside, I'm panicking: WTF? This is ridiculous. How can I get out of here? Quoting from another post I wrote, sometimes it feels like the teacher is "microwaving a steam bag of yoga students tossed in a tangy perspiration sauce with essence of B.O."




"Solid, Concrete, One piece, Lamppost, Unbroken. You have no knee." For those who haven't been to a Bikram class, that's part of the dialogue the teachers say for one of the balancing series postures. The lamp from A Christmas Story keeps coming to mind. All of us in the room balancing on high-heeled, fishnet legs with lampshades on our heads.

Yo, DJ, pump this party. When I'm lying in savasana after Camel pose, sometimes I feel like the teacher is the DJ and my heart is the bass, booming from inside my chest. We're all at a Bikram rave, and we're wearing lights on our fingers and in our mouths. Oh wait--no mouth breathing. We won't see our mouth lights, except for the breathing exercises and the sit-ups. But that would be cool--our disco light mouths exhaling in unison.

I've participated in other types of challenges. Marathons. A few triathlons. Ironman Texas. The MS150. The Colorado River 100 canoe race. And now I'm working on my second Bikram challenge. These events give the impression that I'm a healthy person. It's a facade. I'm a total poser, a phony. That struggle with moderation that I mentioned earlier? I've kept my more harmful addictions in remission for a number of years, but I'm still a prisoner of two powerful villains. 

The first one is my sweet tooth. Nothing can stop her. She didn't affect me much when I was a runner, torching a few thousand calories a week, but since I retired from running last May due to my back troubles, her ghastly gluttony is making my jeans tight. Bikram is helping me fight back, but I still can't stop myself from meeting up with my dessert dealers. They are...

Tiff's Treats: an MandM cookie appetizer for the ride home. And then their big, fat, heated brownie once I get home.

Whole Foods: tres leches parfait, and the cinnamon bread pudding at the hot dessert bar--with a dollop of tres leches cream poured over it.

Good 2 Go (The Grove's to-go place next door): their cookies. They're sprinkled with sea salt--an interesting, yummy twist to the cookie. I found out yesterday, though, that they may stop making them!

Great Harvest Bread: cranberry-almond scone and oatmeal chocolate chip cookie. And always a hefty sample slice of something.
Schlotzsky's (the big one on S. Lamar): chocolate chunk cookie, no nuts, and their holiday icing cookies.

Randall's Grocery: their holiday icing cookies. Right now, they're Mardi Gras. (You have to be really nasty and hardcore to eat these guys.)

The second villain is "Venti bold, no room" from Starbucks. My husband (who is just as crazy as I am) and I are both powerless over this potion. Maybe we'll just move on from Venti and start buying those 96-ounce cardboard travelers. Can that count towards the liters of fluids I'm supposed to be drinking for the challenge? What's ridiculous is that I wrote a post two years ago discussing my problem with sugar and caffeine. Sure have made a lot of progress.

"Some Like It Hot"--On Day 20, while my family and I enjoyed our queso and cheesesteaks at Texadelphia, this 80's nugget came on. Bikram-motivating lyrics...

Feel the heat pushing you to decide

Feel the heat burning you up, ready or not

Some like it hot and some sweat when the heat is on

Some feel the heat and decide that they can't go on

Some like it hot, but you can't tell how hot till you try

Some like it hot, so let's turn up the heat till we fry

"I should have let him tag me." On Day 10, I was extra early to the Downtown noon class, so I was in my car playing with my iPhone. Got a call from the school nurse that my daughter Parker had jumped off the playground thingy during recess and landed badly on her wrist. So grateful I got the call before disappearing into the torture chamber. My sweet girl fractured her radius. Ugh. Terrible. Parker loves tae kwon do, and unfortunately, she's out for 4-6 weeks and can't test for this cycle. I'm so sorry, Sweet Girl.

If I'm showing a picture of one of my daughters, then I've gotta have a pic of my other sweet girl, too. Here's Miss Bridget. She started a yoga class in December at Kula and loves it. She also enjoys Wii yoga. (Click on her and you can see she's donning my 60-day challenge tee from 2009.)

I know a mother isn't suppose to have favorites, and I love all of my Fauna Extreme critters, but the bar-tailed godwit has a special place in my heart (or, on my back, I guess I should say). To fly between Alaska and New Zealand without a break for 8 or 9 days is just so amazing. She's my symbol of rising to the occasion. If I were to have a third daughter, I'd probably name her Miranda, which is what scientists named a bar-tailed godwit that they put a tracking device on in 2007 to record this ultra-endurance queen's record-holding, longest nonstop migration.

So.......me and the other 370+ yogis who signed up for Pure Bikram's 60-day challenge: We're all bar-tailed godwits. We're halfway across the Pacific. Let's keep going! Keep flapping those wings. See you at the finish line!

The Mysterious Middle--Guest Writing for MizFitOnline

In October, I met a mom from my daughter's kindergarten class who has a really great fitness blog called MizFitOnline. She asked me to be a guest writer. Here's what I wrote for her!

The Mysterious Middle

Also, just want to highlight my favorite post for 2011:

(Trying to Get) Back to Bikram

The Colorado River 100

For many posts on this blog, I've rambled on and on about marathons, triathlons, the MS150 and Bikram yoga. These athletic endeavors are very mainstream and familiar. I'm not dissing their difficulty by labeling them this way; I'm just saying that these goals are popular and a typical choice people make when they decide they want to take on a physical challenge.

My dad's choice of challenge is not mainstream. I think most people, me included--until now, are quite unfamiliar with the sport he loves. My dad canoes. And I don't mean "Oh-let's-glide-down-the-river-for-a couple-of-hours-and-enjoy-the-pretty-scenery" type of canoeing. I mean the Texas Water Safari, a race most (or those in the know) consider to be the most difficult canoe race in the world, and honestly, one of the toughest races period. It's 260 miles, from San Marcos to Sea Drift, TX--with numerous, tiring portages--and you have to finish in under 100 hours or you're disqualified. My dad has participated in this craziness twelve times.

This writing here is from the entry form for the Texas Water Safari:

The Texas Water Safari is a long, grueling race that is extremely demanding, both physically and mentally. Entrants are encouraged to consult a physician to ensure that they are in good health and can withstand the rigors that participation entails. The physical demands of the race, combined with sleep deprivation, heat, dehydration and exhaustion, often cause participants to become disoriented. Amnesia, hallucinations and other debilitating conditions are not uncommon. Such effect can impair judgment, a condition especially dangerous for a solo paddler. (My dad has finished the Safari twice solo!)

It goes on to discuss the dangers of the river. One year, my dad's partner broke his leg after he fell into the water (possibly from falling asleep while paddling). He hung onto the canoe, drifting and waiting for a gravel bar along the shore so he could climb back in, and while drifting, he hit a rock or something, cracking his tibia.

The writing then goes on to warn about the disorientation of heat exhaustion and danger of heat stroke. One year, my dad told me about a guy who got out of his canoe, removed all of his clothes and wandered off. Police searched for and detained the naked man in a nearby neighborhood.

Then it warns about animals--snake bites, alligators, wasps, fire ants, stingrays (that participants have stepped on at the end when you get to the bay), etc... My dad told me about a freak accident where an alligator gar jumped out of the water, hitting a woman square in the chest, breaking her ribs. But the animal story I will forever love: One time, my dad was trying to get a couple of hours of sleep, but there was a noisy bullfrog nearby. Somehow he was able to locate the frog. He picked it up and threw it as far as he could.

Here's how the entry form concludes:

There is danger in all outdoor sports, but there are wonderful benefits to be gained. There is a fine line between “gutting it out” and pushing on in the face of pain on the one hand, and failing to recognize the danger signs on the other. This race is not for everyone, the best you can do (what we have all done in the past) is talk to other racers, enter races of shorter duration and gain experience... There is no disgrace in pulling over to rest for awhile. Some of the top finishers have done so and some of the best racers in Safari history have been forced to drop out. But, when you finish, you will find, as former recorder-holder John Bugge has repeatedly said, that you are a different person....for life...

The Water Safari is NOT the race I recently did with my dad. I participated with him in the Colorado River 100--a 100-mile event. While this race is definitely difficult, it's nowhere near the Water Safari, which takes place on the San Marcos and Guadalupe rivers. First of all, there are no dams and portages in the Colorado 100--a huge difference. My puny arms and damaged back could never handle portages. And second of all, obviously, the CR100 is a 160 miles shorter than the Safari! During our three practice runs to prepare, I quickly learned that my weak mind could never take on the Safari's mental challenge of being constricted in the canoe and on the river for so long. We finished the CR100 in 24:39:32--and during our race, I really relied on my iPod. I've mentioned on this blog about how much I loved my iPod when I was a runner, but I needed my iPod on the river; I would have been in serious trouble without it. (And I actually brought two iPods, knowing the charge would run out on me with the first one.) And this was just for a 100-mile race, not 260 miles! My dad's best Safari time is 70-something hours. These rivers, the Colorado included, are not white water. I often felt like I was paddling in a winding lake. So to paddle for 24 hours multiplied by 3? So hard to wrap my brain around that.

So again: twelve times my dad has shown up at the starting line of the Texas Water Safari, with five finishes--twice alone (amaaaazing) and three other times with a partner or a three-man boat. My brother Steven finished with him one of those successful years. The other attempts that fell short were due to damaged canoes, damaged partners and not meeting time cutoffs. And also, very important to point out: many years the Safari has terrible, low-water conditions. Basically, anybody that crosses the finish line of the Safari must feel like the ultimate badass (once they've recovered from their hallucinations and exhaustion). Now that I've done some paddling myself and experienced a canoe race firsthand, I'm even more impressed, blown away, and confused by those that complete such a grueling race and return to do it again and again. So amazing...and insane. :)

If the Texas Water Safari were to be compared to a marathon, then the Colorado River 100 would be a 10K--a 10K that I'm so glad and grateful I got to experience with my dad. He and my stepmother Janet, our team captain, pretty much handed this accomplishment to me. They did all of the organizing, supplying and stressing. All I did was show up and try my best not to be pathetic.

We did it, Dad! I love you.

Pictures: My dad surprised me the evening before the race with the names "Ironman" and "Dad" on our canoe. I was laughing and thought it was great. The label of "Dad" was rather humble, though, right? More like, "Daughter" and "Ironcanoer" or "Ironpaddler."

Click here if you'd like to see photos from this year's 2011 Water Safari from the Austin American Statesman.

(Trying to Get) Back to Bikram

Other title considerations...

Are You There, Bikram? It's Me, Sarah

Help Me, Bikram Choudhury. You're My Only Hope.

I took my first Bikram yoga class in spring of 2002. At this time, my husband Chad and I were mopping up a big 'ol mess we had spilled all over our lives. At this time, we were both about three months sober. Me--recently completing two and a half months of treatment followed by living on my own in Tampa, FL. And Chad--in Houston, where we're from, immersing himself in AA and spending time with a sponsor. (Chad had done treatment and AA in his past before we met, so we decided on the plan of just me going away to treatment and him staying back and working on his recovery at home, immersing himself once again in AA.) Being apart was crucial to our success. Our love was strong, but we were partners in crime and serious sobriety saboteurs for each other.

So I was in Tampa, trying to build some confidence. Rented a cute duplex and got a little job at a bakery called Pane Rustica. (Yummy place to go if you're ever in Tampa.) The manager there told me about Bikram and invited me to try a class with her. This intense, yoga experience had a very strong first impression on me, arriving at such a vulnerable time in my life. I had been struggling, self-loathing, hopeless. But that Bikram class snapped me out of that sad state for 90 minutes. It ignited foreign feelings like contentment, hope and appreciation.

I had not been an athletic person since high school. And obviously, for a long time, I had been treating my body like crap. And I was still a smoker. Funny to light up a cigarette when you're driving home from yoga. But this yoga--was my first time in years to try a physical challenge. Bikram was there for me first, before my running, which I've written a lot about on this blog, and I'll bring up again in just a minute.

I only got to take a couple more classes because a surprise came: Chad and I were going to have a baby. (He came to Tampa for a visit as soon as I got out of treatment.) I often wonder if Chad and I would have our semi-longterm sobriety if I hadn't gotten pregnant with our daughter Parker. I think of Parker as an angel sent to save us--and to save our family and friends from losing us. I'm pretty positive that without her, Chad and I wouldn't have this nine-year chunk of sobriety. Difficult to gather up years when you start in your twenties. (For me at least--only talk about yourself when you talk recovery talk. The "we," "our" and "you" talkers? Na uh. No.)

Anyway...I quit because I didn't have anywhere near the foundation a woman needs who is going to continue her practice during her pregnancy. But Bikram left a lasting imprint. That bakery manager's gift to me would turn out to be something that I returned to, picked up and tinkered with, again and again.

Once we knew about Parker, living in Tampa was out. That was the longterm recovery plan--for Chad and I to have some time apart and then for him to move to Tampa. Too many tempting memories and mayhem in Houston for us. But now that Parker was coming, she was our little antabuse, and Houston and each other were no longer such threats to our recovery. Plus, that's where all the grandparents lived! So I came back to Houston and to Chad, and after Parker was born, I began to play around again with Bikram. Not going consistently, but buying the ten-class option and trying to get 'em all in before the month was over. So definitely not a serious student, but Bikram was back in my life. I remember Mike and Joani, the owners of the Houston studios. Very nice. I remember the teacher and manager Tony when I took class at the Fountainview location by my mom while she watched Parker for me. Really great.

But then I decided to run a marathon. Huh? Where did that come from? After Parker turned one, I was antsy from being a stay-at-home mommy. And an only one-year-eleven-months-sober mommy at that. No evening glass of wine to unwind with. No mother's little helper. I needed a goal. And for whatever reason, I came up with running a marathon. See "Waiting for the End. Part One--Marathon Mayhem" for more details about this time in my life.

Extra detail--on my thirtieth birthday, a couple of months before my first marathon, Chad surprised me with a weekend retreat in Austin with Rajashree, Bikram's wife. That was neat. She's funny. And beautiful. So sweet of Chad to come up with that present for my thirtieth.

Months after the retreat with Rajashree, we moved to The Woodlands, a suburb just north of Houston--a place that I would call a runner's paradise. Miles and miles of flat, sidewalk trails that you can crisscross and change around. So many parks with water fountains and bathrooms. And a lot of running and triathlon groups. I knew before we moved to The Woodlands that a new Bikram studio would be opening there. Knowing that was actually one of the parts of the pros vs. cons to moving. A very small part of the decision, but still a part! I would have been bummed to not have Bikram close to me. But like I said, The Woodlands is the perfect place to run, and I quickly fell hard for the sport. Consequently, my Bikram practice became a distant second to my running.

The Woodlands studio is really nice. Like a spa. Arnie and Jen, the owners, are very sweet. But running was now first, then yoga. I did take advantage of the exchange offer they had of earning two classes every time you babysat for the 9:30 class. I really liked that. Made my yoga free, so Chad couldn't roll his eyes at me yet again for another thing I was spending money on myself for and my non-working life. But we had another daughter now, too--Bridget, so I was still earning my keep, taking care of our two little girls, right, Honey?

In March of 2009, I asked a few of my running friends to take on a 60-day Bikram challenge with me. Go to "Will I Get it Together in Time for IMTX?" to read about that experience, and what you'll find out is that just two days after we completed the challenge, I had a rollerskating accident and severely ruptured my L4/L5 disc, leaving me no choice but to have back surgery. So depressing to have those 60 days of Bikram taken away from me, in addition to all of the progress I had made as a runner. I had PR'd at the Houston Marathon just a few months before--a feat that I worked my butt off for, so again--extremely discouraging. The surgery totally cured my scary, off-the-chart, sciatica symptoms, but the accident left me with a half-disc that would turn out to only be able to handle two more years of long-distance running. And it also left me with a new, disenchanted attitude towards the world of races. (The focus of "Waiting for the End" is my struggle with this reality, and "Part 3--Satisfied Surrender" is the conclusion of what recently went down with me and races.)

So after the surgery and recovery time, I returned to running, throwing in only a tiny sprinkle of Bikram, and then we moved to Austin last August--where from then till just this past May was my temporary relationship with triathlons...and zero Bikram. (See "Parts 1, 2 and 3." Sorry. Broken record. That's the last time I'll say that.)

And now the present!

I'm retired from races, and I've been struggling with whether or not to be totally done with running. Since Ironman Texas in May, I've managed a couple of runs without problems, but for the most part, the runs I've been on...have sucked. Left me frustrated. And sad. And walking.

My back is only 36 years old (Okay. Almost 37.), and it's already missing half a disc and also has two bulging ones. The right thing to do, the smart thing to do...is to not run anymore. And that's what I've finally decided to do.

It's heartbreaking to let something go that I love so much. But if that something is no longer good for me...if it's now hurting me...then I've got to let it go. A bit of similarity there, huh? Not the first time I've had to painfully say goodbye to some things that were hurting me. More like, agonizing...grieving over losing things that were kicking my ass. Peculiar stuff--that it could be so difficult to release your grip from things that are destroying you. (For me--broke the rule I was preachy about earlier.)

So what now? What's going to keep me out of trouble? I learned I'm not a cyclist or a swimmer. No fireworks or connection with either of them for me. (Well, cycling did have some amazing moments. We were a fling, though.) But there was definitely a spark between me and Bikram, and I'm now trying to reconnect with this always welcoming friend. I finally put my money where my mouth is and bought the $49, 30-day intro special at Pure Bikram. The switch is huge for me--coming down from this past year of ironman training, the MS150 and the years of marathons before that. I'm replacing my beloved ipod runs for a yoga room where I silently stare at myself in the mirror. I don't think the teachers are ever going to let me practice while listening to Tool or the Beastie Boys.

Here's what's gone down for my first 30 days back at Bikram...

Day 1, Class 1: Pure Bikram's Westlake studio. I had been here once before, when Chad and I were in Austin for a weekend getaway. So when the instructor looked me up on their computer, there I was, with details: He read to me that I was there in July of '09 and had recently undergone surgery for a disc herniation. Wow. That's right. My mushy brain didn't recall the timing--that I had been here just over a month after my back surgery. And now here I was again--two years, one month later. It hadn't been quite that long since my last time to do Bikram, though. Well, maybe it was, because I was about to say that my last class was in The Woodlands, but Arnie and Jen were in the process of changing over to their 5o-minute, express hot yoga classes. So an express class was the last class I took (They're fun! I liked it.), so the Pure Bikram class just over two years ago was my last time I had done traditional, 90-minute Bikram. My thoughts during the class:

It's awesome.

It always is.

My body is such an achy wreck.

I'm going to be fine; this will be my thing now.

Maybe I'll be a teacher someday.

The training is so expensive, though.

And how would I be away from Chad and the girls for that long?

I wonder if someday I could ever be in a yoga competition?

Ugh! I'm such a spaz. Why can't I just be satisfied with the present, with the experience? Why do I need to make everything bigger? Why am I so extreme? Sigh. Because I'm just someone who has a hard time with the art of moderation.

Day 3, Class 2: Downtown Pure Bikram location. Thoughts--pretty much the same thoughts as the first class. My body is a mess. Want to become a Bikram teacher. And also become the greatest yoga champion the world has ever seen. A yoga superhero, with a cape and mask. "Who was that masked yogini?" :) I also thought, this is like a 90-minute Ironman Texas. Heat. Humidity. Hard.

Day 5, Class 3: Downtown. The teacher's name was Michael. On this Father's Day morning, I made the trip to Starbucks for Chad and me. Two Venti bolds, no room. Perfect example of the moderation problem. (To really get a good look at my nasty, gluttonous nature, read "Hopefully the Year of the Tiger...and Not the Kitten." ) After getting the coffee, I also stopped at the grocery store and bought a last minute cookie cake for the girls and I to give to Chad for his day. It said "Happy Father's Day" and was decorated with plastic pieces that were a fishing theme (fish, pole, tacklebox). Chad--our big fisherman (not at all). And there were blue icing waves on the cake--but not enough icing in my opinion, so I went over to the baking aisle and grabbed a can of more blue icing for the girls to squirt more waves onto Daddy's cake--which turned out to be Mommy's cake all morning before this third yoga class. Who knows, I could be wrong, but I'm guessing I was the only one in class with blue-stained teeth.

Alright, enough of that. For this class, I was able to get my fingers under my feet during Standing Separate Leg Stretching--always a toughie for me when I first come back to Bikram. Looking forward to more of those little improvements. Like my Rabbit pose: Presently, it's a barely alive Rabbit pose--can barely lift my butt up. But I've always had a sick rabbit, and I don't mean sick as in "This beat is sick" (Yes. Lady Gaga). I mean sick as in you want to rush my rabbit to the vet.

Day 14, Class 4: Alright, so I went eight days without going to a class. Don't know what happened. I was all fired up, and then? Oh well. At least I made it back. 5:30, downtown. Crowded! Wow. Been a very long time since I was in a class like that, but it was fine. A tough, great class, taught by Marco, the teacher who helped me on day 1 and read the notes about me on the computer. I was really hot today. Perhaps because it was packed? Or just because I was battling the heat. Anyhow, I was super glad when the end had arrived! Noticed some minor improvements again, despite the eight day absence--didn't have to bend my knees quite so much for a handful of poses.

Day 16, Class 5: 6:30, downtown. Not sure of the teacher's name. She had an accent. The heat was not as hard for me today. My first time in the other practice room. Pure Bikram is amazing--there are so many class times, so I really have no way of using the excuse that I just can't make a class on whatever day.

I felt good today. Continuing to notice less knee bending. Have a long way to go, though, before I'll be able to lock those knees. And so far I'm remaining disciplined with my choice not to kick out yet for Standing Head to Knee. Perhaps after a couple more classes, I'll try. We'll see. Felt some tingling in my left leg after each time I came out of Camel pose. Before my back injury, I had been living with functional sciatica for over a year, in my left rear end, so this sensation isn't alarming. I'm an old pro with tingling in the left leg.

Day 18, Class 6: 4:30, Westlake. With Mardy.

I have scoliosis. Wore a brace for two years in middle school for sixteen hours a day. Fun stuff. I chose for my eight hours brace-free to be while I was at school. Would much rather sleep in a brace then wear one around my friends all day. Middle school years--already awkward enough, right? Anyhow, my right shoulder blade sticks out because of the curve and slight twist in my spine, and for today's Cobra pose, while lying there waiting for the cue to begin the posture, I really noticed it. Very pronounced when I'm down like this with my hands flat below my shoulders. I wonder if years of dedicated practice could shift it back at all? Not sure I'm a years-of-dedicated-practice type of person, though!

Day 21, Class 7: So I've now started a ten day vacation in Galveston with my family. But, Chad and I headed to Houston for one night at my mom's house for some rare alone time while my mom watched our girls for us back in Galveston at the rental. And while I was in Houston, I took a noon class at the South Blvd. location. I was happy and surprised to see that Tony was teaching. Didn't occur to me at all that I might have a teacher I knew. And he remembered me! He heard me after class speaking with the woman at the front desk, updating my info, and he said hi and asked about me. So sweet of him.

I kicked out today for Standing Head to Knee. Just figured I would check it out. Went pretty well, considering how out of Bikram shape I am. Wasn't locking my lifted leg, but I held it up the duration of the posture for each set. I wish there wasn't this big gap coming up before my next class, but I'm back to Galveston tomorrow morning for another week. What a ridiculous whine--that my vacation is getting in the way of my yoga.

Day 29, Class 8: 4:00, downtown. My third time with Marco. He gave me a couple of posture corrections in class today, which made me feel good. I was smiling when I couldn't really manage the corrections, but I appreciated him giving a moment to me. Dramatic to say, but today's class might have been the hottest class I've ever experienced in my sporadic history with Bikram. Holy sh-t, it was hot. Like Marco was microwaving a steam bag of yoga students...tossed in a tangy perspiration sauce with essence of B.O.

After class, I set up the auto pay. Here I go. How will this play out? Will I flake and drift away yet again from Bikram? Will I become a teacher and yoga superhero? Or how about just being comfortable with the middle? Not needing a finish line or an accomplishment and simply enjoying the moment.

Wish me luck. I think I'll borrow some animal energy from all of Fauna Extreme's athletes...

...Strength from the rhinoceros beetle, tiger and elephant.

...Strategy and patience from the red fox.

...Confidence from the brown hare.

...Speed from the cheetah, pronghorn, peregrine falcon and sailfish. (Speed to make the balancing series and Triangle go by quickly when I'm struggling!)

...And endurance and perseverance from the honey badger , my beloved bar-tailed godwit and the polar bear (and how 'bout some arctic temps, too, from the sea bear while I'm in Bikram's torture chamber!)

Waiting for the End: Part Three--Satisfied Surrender

A 3-part series of blog posts about my journey from marathon mayhem, to triathlon desperation, to reaching a point of satisfied surrender.

Part Three: Satisfied Surrender.

So I'm now a little over the seven-year mark with running, with this past year my stint with triathlons.

As for the running, there have been many 5-mile runs, long runs, 20-mile weeks, 40-mile weeks (not too many of those), track workouts (but not in the last few years!), registering for races, new shoes, socks, running clothes, Gu's and energy bars. There have been headphones and ipod shuffles (had to replace them a couple of times because they break from sweat or they've made it into the washer). There have been injuries, orthopedic doctors, physical therapists, a chiropractor and deep tissue massages. There have been many post-run Starbucks with friends. And there have been finish lines. I'm so grateful I experienced the world of running--the pain, the fun, the disappointment, the personal victories.

As for triathlons? Oh, you know...well, uh....

But hey--I knew when I decided to do Ironman Texas that I probably wasn't going to fall in love with triathlons. If I was already struggling with the point of running races, was there really any chance that I would just miraculously fall head over heals for a race that adds two more disciplines? (Let me just stress that I'm talking about my own personal questioning of the point of races--the point for me to continue with them, not everyone in general. Obviously, I have loved races. This is about my own personal journey. Just want to be clear on that so no one gets riled up!)

I was ready to be done. I decided it was time to be done. For two reasons:

One--I'm just not the runner at the starting line who's there for the experience. I thrived on goals. And if I'm not going for a PR or preparing for a future PR, then the interest just isn't there for me. And the me that would put in the intensity needed for PRs is gone--gone after my injury and all of my progress erased, and gone because my L4/L5 disc is a shaky spot that can no longer handle the amount of weekly miles necessary to start over again and attempt a PR marathon. That disc is a pillow with half the feathers gone, a flat tire, a reduced-fat jelly donut. (I love analogies about my half-disc.) And the vertebrae around it are becoming compromised and showing edema--the glaring white part on L4 of my MRI. Yes, a doctor I saw one year after the surgery did say I could keep running to my heart's content, but he also said my days as a long-distance runner were numbered--that I would begin to feel straight-up, "regular" back pain. Not the crazy, scary nerve pain I experienced with the herniation explosion, but pain from running with half a disc now. (You read Part One and Part Two, right?) And I am in fact starting to feel what the doctor spoke of--pain. On a recent 20-mile run I did to prepare for IMTX, I felt like the L4/L5 spot was actually swollen afterwards.

There's just not a PR marathon again in my future. So why not focus on half marathons or 10Ks or whatever? Well, to be honest, because they intimidate me. I like finish lines that are far away. I get more nervous and worked up at the starting line of a 5K than of a marathon. Running fast like that is so hard for me, and my time on those kinds of races makes me feel so exposed if I don't do myself proud. So if it ain't the marathon, then I ain't interested!

And two--well, hang on for a minute with reason two. Let me make my way to IMTX.

So, yes, I was ready to be done with races, but I wanted to go out with a bang, and since the bang couldn't be a marathon PR, then I needed to find something drastically different. And that's why I decided to do an ironman. IMTX was to be my swan song.

A swan song that almost didn't play!

On the evening of May 10th, eleven days before the race, I lifted a pile of laundry, and my back started to hurt. Then the next morning, I ran eight miles anyway, like an idiot, and the pain continued. Okay, don't panic yet; ten days till the race. There's time for this little tweak to heal. It's okay. But what if it's more than a tweak? What if I've re-herniated, or what if one of my other bulging discs herniated? What if I'm totally f---ed?

Please note: I know this back stuff is detailed, long and probably boring, so if you want to skip down and just read about IMTX and see the pictures  I totally understand. I have to talk about it, though, because it's part of my story.

So for four days, I did nothing but rest, ice, heat and Alleve. Quite a taper I had going for the race. Then I saw a spine specialist here in Austin on the 16th to discuss possibly taking some steroid pills or getting a shot. And I thought while I was there seeing this new doctor, why not bring my MRI from a year ago that I had taken 10 months after the surgery? Just see his take on it? Last year, I had tweaked my back, just like this time, and I was paranoid I might have re-herniated, just like this time, so I saw a spine specialist in The Woodlands (the one who said I could still run to my heart's content). He's not the one who did my surgery, though. Dr. Heilman, in Houston, did. I don't know why I didn't go back to Heilman. Well, yes I do; I was lazy to drive down to Houston and sit in that waiting room that was always packed and slow. Dumb. I should have gone back to Dr. Heilman, the guy who actually opened me up and fixed my back, and this present confusion I'm about to discuss probably wouldn't be happening.

So I'm in my room, waiting to speak with the Austin spine guy. The nurse has given him my MRI, and I know he's looking at it before he comes in to meet me and discuss. And when he does come in, he begins to talk about my re-herniation, like I know about it, like it's old news. Huh? What re-herniation? I'm here to talk with you about some back pain I'm having six days out from my ironman, to discuss pain-management options. And I just brought that old MRI to show you, to see what you thought about my back in general and my running future in general. You think my back has re-herniated?

Yes, that's what he thought. Emotion starts to build. And confusion. I told him about my visit with The Woodlands doctor who ordered this past MRI and that he never mentioned I had re-herniated. He had said it was an ugly MRI, but that of course it was--that this is what happened to my back ten months prior. The Austin doctor was saying no, though--that this was not what my back's MRI should be looking like ten months after my surgery. And his whole mood during this appointment was not about what to do about my ironman in six days, but more about my future and my quality of life. But before all of this serious conversation had begun, I had already opened up with my speech that IMTX was the end for me--that I was going to retire afterwards. He said he was glad to hear I was already in that mindset because that's what he was about to suggest--for me to quit running. And then he went into the re-herniation talk. And then came my emotion. (Yes, I cried. Now my third time to cry in front of a spine guy.)

Yes, I was planning to retire, but I meant from races and long-distance runs. Not running altogether. What is this guy saying? I should stop completely? What? I was still planning on 5-mile runs a couple of times a week. Sometimes the 7-mile loop around Town Lake. Still feeling the high, escaping with my cheesy tunes on my ipod. And what about the occasional, 8 to 10 mile run with my Woodlands friends when I was visiting? None of it? I should be done completely?

The appointment ended with us deciding that I would show up for the race I had put so much effort into for the last year (well, not the swimming), give it a shot, and drop out if there were any sign of trouble brewing in my spine. And then be done.

These final days before the IM were turning out to be rather crappy!

I sent out a dramatic email to my friends, letting them know what was going on and that I had no idea if I would be able to complete the race and that after IMTX, I would be done with running forever. I was on the phone with my concerned parents. I was feeling sorry for myself. And just feeling confused--one doctor saying, "You're okay, you can go on running until the back pain eventually sets in. The other doctor saying, "You've re-herniated and just need to be done and protect what's left of your back." Which was it, damn it?

Alright! Enough of that. And now, Ironman Texas!!!

Ironman Texas--May 21st, The Woodlands: Time--14:02:27. That's right, I did it. All of that final mayhem--hurt back, doctor, crying, zero swims, rides or runs for the last nine days before the race....all that craziness and my back ended up being fine. The usual achiness, yes, but nothing more. So some details on my race experience....

The Swim. Time--1:34:34

It was wild. About 2600 of us all at once together. Lots of bumping into each other and having to stop and start over again. And then there's me with my defiant, unorthodox sidestroke. I breaststroke, too, but mostly, I swim like an octopus or a jellyfish. (See videos.) I sidestroke because I'm too lazy to learn and practice freestyle and join a masters swim or tri group, so when I try to freestyle, I get so out of breath and tired. I love being able to keep my face out of the water and get that moment of gliding rest in the sidestroke. And breaststroke. And I'm not making this up: During the sea of freestylers around me, a guy joked with me, "That's not fair that you're sidestroking while we're all out here freestyling." So funny. I do look very out of place.

Transition 1. Time--7:11
I changed into my bike shorts with the thicker padding, put on a tank top, had a volunteer put an icy hot gel sticker thingy on my back......it was practically a full wardrobe change. Why the hell not?

The Bike. Time--7:07:42

The downside of my sidestroke and having my head above the surface the entire swim is that I can potentially swallow a lot of water. And I did. As soon as I got on the bike, I had a painful side-stitch that just wouldn't go away, making me not want to eat or drink. But I knew I had to, or I would be in big trouble during the run, so I forced it all down every hour, sticking with my calorie and fluids plan. Finally around mile 70, the stitch went away. I stopped to use the bathroom three times during the ride, with one of those times also to adjust my front wheel that I realized a little before 20 miles was rubbing against the brake. Idiot. At one of my bathroom stops, the volunteers were saying biker down. I saw the guy; his elbows were bloody and his bike shorts were torn with road rash on his rear, but he was okay. Someone told me he had just been hit by a car and dragged. Then I noticed the driver on the other side of the road speaking with the police. So scary. And the rider's bike was possibly okay, too. He and a race official were pondering about him continuing on. Wow. I also had a guy next to me lose control of his bike and fall. I had to swerve a little. Me and another guy unclipped and asked if he was okay. He was, and grumpily wanted nothing to do with us. So off I went. Anyhow, a couple of crazy moments during this crazy day.

Without a doubt, I would have had a tough ride if not for my time with Tough Cookies and the ladies I became friends with in that cycling club. I felt prepared and confident during the headwind on the second half of the ride, and the hills of this course were more like inclines compared to what I had been doing in Austin with Tough Cookies. So thank you so much, Ladies. Couldn't have done it without you!

Transition 2. Time--6:49

Got to see my dad as I walked my bike into T2. I knew this was his plan, and it worked out great. Saw and talked to him again a few minutes later as I set out on the marathon.

The Run. Time--5:06:11

Very happy to be off the bike and beginning the miserably hot and humid marathon. Ha! It was so great to have so many friendly faces on the course who knew me from The Woodlands Running Club. And the faces who didn't know me, too. All of the volunteers and crowd support were so enthusiastic and amazing. The aid stations were fully stocked with everything a runner could need. And we needed it all! Or I did at least. It was a hot, humid day. Can't complain about it, though. We all knew going into this, that IMTX would have challenging weather. I'm still confused about the May date, though. And it's May again next year. Whatevah! I poured ice cubes down my sports bra at practically every aid station, and it would be completely melted by the time I reached the next one. I squeezed cold sponges over my head a lot. I drank everything--water, sports drink, chicken broth and coke. I held three cups at once sometimes, not really having a clue what I should be doing at that point. By the third lap, I just didn't want to drink or eat anything anymore. Around mile 24, feelings of throwing up began, but luckily it didn't happen.

The Finish Line
I loved it. I had it all to myself. Lights shining on me, people cheering, music blaring (my song was "Where the Streets Have No Name"). I've never had a finish line experience like that before. It was awesome. A lot of work for that brief moment, but it was worth it. And what about my friend Sharon and her quest to complete IMTX? Did she make it? Yes, she made it, too. She totally rocks.

Back to my back for a minute. While I like that Austin spine doctor, and he has an impressive background, I just don't think he was right that I've been walking around with a re-herniation for the last year. I think I just hurt my back picking up the laundry a few weeks ago...and now I'm fine again. Or I don't know! Whatever. BUT--he was right-on in that I'm 36 years old with one really messed up disc and another one on its way--that I need to be smart and preserve and protect where my back is right now. Another BUT--I don't think I need to quit running altogether, though, like he suggested; I think I can carry out my original retirement plan of recreational, short runs. Like 12 miles total per week.

And what other athletics will I be doing? Not cycling. I really did enjoy my time with it--it's thrilling and challenging and intense. My time with Tough Cookies and doing the MS150 was so great. But it just ain't my thang. Too intense. I can't daydream or really talk with friends or listen to my ipod. You have to be constantly focused. I gave my friend Alana back her bike and also all of the gear goodies I bought along the way. So I really gave it up! And swimming? Nah, uh. Also just isn't for me. I couldn't get my lazy, defiant self in that pool. I talked about it a lot ("Ugh, I need to swim!"), but I rarely went. So what then? I'm going to go back to Bikram yoga and hopefully check out other yogas in Austin, too. Mix it up. But I love Bikram because it's...it's just awesome. So, a couple of short runs--sometimes on the greenbelt with our wild puppy Kirby who desperately needs to burn energy, and then yoga. That'll do, and I'm excited.


So what does the title of this blog post series mean? Who's "Waiting for the End?" (Besides Linkin Park, who wrote this song I love to run to.) Well, that's where reason number two comes in for why I'm retiring from races...

I couldn't have done any of these marathons, triathlons and other craziness without my husband Chad. For a chunk of time now, he's been watching the girls for me--while I'm at track (the beginning years, at least), while I'm out on my long runs, or more recently--while I'm out on these bike rides that take half the day. He's listened to me rattle on about things he could care less about. He's been driving me to various starting lines. For seven years, he's been a runner's husband. And a pseudo triathlete's husband. It gets really old!!!

And then my girlies, Parker and Bridget. I think they'd enjoy Mommy being done with races. How she's distracted by them, training for them, planning for them, worrying about them...

So it's the four of us--our little family unit--that have all been waiting for the end. And now we've arrived. I've reached a point of satisfied surrender. See ya, Races. As my mom likes to quote from a movie, "It's been a slice..."

Thinking of doing an ironman? Here's what it cost me. And Chad. And I didn't have to buy a bike or a wetsuit!


Events: IMTX--$625

Lonestar olympic--$100?

AVIA Austin olympic--$140

IronStar half iron--$125

MS150: registration--$100, personal donation--$40, Fauna Extreme donation--$25, hotel room--$50 (shared with someone), ticket to ride bus to Houston--$20?

Tough Cookies: joining cycling group--$100, joining their MS150 team--$150

Rosedale ride--$35

Spokes and Spurs ride--$35

Magnolia Miles ride--$35

Shiner GASP ride--$55

Open water swim practice in Lake Woodlands--$35

Total for events--$1670

Shopping: Bike Lane: Total--$155. first fitting, shoes, cleats for shoes, then I left my shoes at transition at Lonestar, so I had to buy them and cleats again--idiot, Aero Drink bottle, nutrition stuff, etc...

--Bike Resource: $20. Minor bike repair.

--Sports Authority: Total--$150. tire pump, sunglasses, swim cap, new sports bra

--Luke's Locker: Total--$310. shoes, swim mask (not a goggles gal), then left mask and cap at gym, so had to replace--idiot, socks, gels, bars, etc...

--Jack and Adams: Total--$65. gels, bars, Perpeteum. Lost the straw to my Aero Drink so had to buy the parts kit ($10)--dumb -ss.

--Bicycle Sports Shop: Total--$427. Second fitting, new stem to get me closer to handle bars--got me 5cm closer--thank you!, tuneup, booties, winter gloves, new shorts, sun sleeves (bought right before the race, then didn't use) nutritional stuff, etc...

--REI: Total--$104. Tire changing stuff, bike cleaning stuff, nutritional stuff, etc...

--Sun and Ski: Total--$50. new hat, another bike satchel/bento box, nutrition

--RiverSports: Total--$50. 2 pairs of arm warmers. One was a gift to Sharon. :)

--Austin Tricyclist: Total--$38. Lost my swim mask again (so a total of 3 masks purchased. Total spaz.), and more nutrition crap.

--Rogue Equipment: Total--$100. shoes, nutrition.

--Lane Four: $80. swim stuff (fins, pull buoy, kick board, etc...) that I didn't use enough.

--HEB: I bought a lot of Clif Shot Blox and bars here. $50?

--CVS Pharmacy: $35. New sunglasses. Thought I had lost my other ones, so bought cheap pair here because I just don't deserve to own an expensive pair, I've lost so many. Later found the pricier ones. Again...idiot. Then, right before the race--2 icy hot patches for my back, NuSkin because I tripped on a metal light thingy at Town Green Park and sliced my big toe open, sleeping pills, Powerade.

Total: $1634

Misc.: Rollingwood swimming pool, winter membership--$400 (Don't ask me how many times I swam there. My top moment of stupidity.)

Massages: Thank you, Mom!!! And Chris (Chad's mom)!!!

Renting a car because I had to leave Austin a day before Chad and the girls, and I didn't want to drive back to Austin alone on Sun. after the race (how diva is that?): $100

Gas: lots of driving to these events and training rides. $300?

Doctors: PCP--$25 copay, spine specialist--$45 copay, one physical therapist session--$45 copay. Pain med Meloxicam--$4. Total--$119
Total: $919

Cost for Sarah to do Ironman Texas? $4223 (How's that for going out with a bang?)

Cost to hear "Sarah Broyles, you are an Ironman!"? Priceless.