To celebrate Super Tuesday, I decided to do a Super Workout with all three triathlon elements. One agonizing discipline for each of the three top Republican candidates, in a way. There’s a parallel there somewhere.
I started with 20 minutes of a modified interval spin (biking) – alternating 2 minutes of high cadence, low resistance spinning with 2 minutes of a slower, higher resistance period. Twenty minutes later, I staggered off the bike and did some stretches because I have been getting calf cramps on the treadmill after I bike – which makes no sense. You would think calves have little involvement in biking, so I don’t know what the heck their problem is.
Then I silently screamed during the first 2 minutes on the treadmill – because I could suddenly feel every single tendon and muscle in my knees and they were all saying…well, I can’t say what they were saying, it’s completely inappropriate for a family-oriented, uh, community blog. Bad words were what they are saying.
And as usual, after the first 5 minutes I was ready to be done. I hate this part with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns. I think about how I am too old to need the character-building that comes with doing something you detest for 20 minutes. I distract myself by thinking about “worse things” – childbirth is always pretty high on the list. Mammograms, although those tend to be mercifully brief. Cleaning bathrooms used primarily by the male of the species. Cat puke. Newt Gingrich. I pondered why Google Calendar can’t send reminders to a Google Group. I wondered if the reason Viagra can be covered by health insurance, but birth-control isn’t, is because Viagra is not male birth control. I tried to figure out why Mitt Romney’s voice and speaking style creeps me out to the point that I can’t listen to what the man is saying. Hey, it was Super Tuesday, after all.
None of it helped. I watched the minutes tick away while Bono told me he would follow, Pink raised her glass, and Eminem told me that I own it and I better never let it go, and I heaved a sigh of sweaty relief after 20 minutes and 1.45 miles. I complained to Darth how much I hate running (an important part of the training, right?) and went through the rest of the program of stretches, cable pulls, body bar, abs and my favorite part – laying flat on my back on the mat, not moving, contemplating the ceiling.
Partner in Crime picked me up at 7:30 that night for lap swim. I tried the aquatic version of intervals – alternating 2 laps breast-stroke and 2 laps freestyle (my own quirky version, freestyle arms with breast-stroke kick) for 30 laps in the deep end (1/4 mile). My time was under 15 minutes – no improvement there – but I managed more freestyle laps than ever, so that was good. Really good, actually. Maybe it was Super Tuesday after all.
