Yesterday morning on my way to work I heard the Jude song Battered, Broken, which was then stuck in my head all day.  I've been feeling pretty battered and broken lately — for the moment, I'll focus on the physical.  I recently bought a new pair of running shoes.  For years, I've gotten whatever the New Balance stability shoe is — I think I started with the 856 for a few years, then on to the 857.  The 857 is now obsolete and somewhat challenging to find in my size.  As a result, I bought the "upgrade" replacement shoe, the 859 (I somehow missed the 858 altogether).  On my first run, they were a tad uncomfortable, but all new shoes take a few runs to break in.  I then proceeded to go a bit crazy with the running, and ran three days in a row this week, including one day that I had already taken a spin class at lunchtime.  By the last run, on Tuesday night, it felt like I had a rock under my left arch with each step.  Wednesday, my arch and my knees were a disaster.  Of course I had a session with my trainer on Wednesday, and after notifying him of my physical ailments, he proceeded to focus on arms, chest, shoulders, back, and abs.  Yesterday, my left arch was still killing me and my entire upper body was sore.  My knees were a tad better, except when going down stairs.  Thursday was a rest day.  And I'm returning those devil shoes.

As we're approaching Memorial Day weekend, I've been thinking back to 2000, when I bought my first bike (well, my first bike as an adult).  I decided that weekend that I was going to attempt to ride my bike from Boston to New York as part of the AIDS Ride.  Now, I may be a fancy-pants triathlete now, but on my first training ride, from 72nd Street and Riverside up over the George Washington Bridge and back (about 12 miles), I thought I might keel over.  Nevertheless, I went to spin classes during the week and training rides on each weekend.  In September, I completed the three day ride, and felt an enormous sense of pride and accomplishment. 

In the fundraising letter I sent out that year (the ride raised money to provide medical and other services to people with AIDS and HIV), I started off with a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt, "Do the thing you think you cannot do."  This quote continues to inspire me, to push me beyond my limits, and has led me to do all sorts of things I initially never thought I could.  Since that ride I have ridden a bike from Montreal to Portland Maine and from New York to Washington DC.  I have completed two triathlons and am on my way to a third.  I created a job that I aspired to for years.  I sang the national anthem in front of thousands of people (and didn't forget the words).  I put on two one-woman shows, I graduated from a top five law school.  I traveled by myself.  I became a self-defense instructor.  I became a food writer.  I am proud of these things.  And whenever I have doubts, I turn to Eleanor for inspiration.

– long runs
– good conversation
– family
– friends
– having things on the calendar to look forward to
– a hot shower
– flowers
– sweat
– tears
– belly laughs
– hugs
– hearing the words "I love you."
– singing at the top of your lungs
– even more hugs

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. –Anais Nin

This was not a stellar week, generally, and in particular, training-wise.  Sure, I ran, swam, and went to a spin class, but that's not enough anymore.  Time to double up on workouts, throw in a brick or two (I did run for 10 minutes after spin, so I suppose that counts), and step up.  Something to focus on, if nothing else.