I am obsessed with numbers. As the CEO/CFO of the family, I create and attempt to adhere to many budgets -- food budgets, clothing budgets (Did you know that children actually grow out of their things? The nerve!), activity budgets, gas budgets, etc, -- Any expense that is related to the household or family, I have assigned a limiting number to it. Call it what you will, organized or control freak, everything has a number. Sometimes the numbers are met and sometimes the numbers are exceeded. Generally, the excess, within reason, does not bother me that much. UNLESS...UNLESS of course you are talking about the numbers I assign to my triathlons and triathlon training.
After each of my races, once the "final" numbers are posted, I scrutinize and compare them to previous race results, training bests, potential, and the field. I doubt that Alan Greenspan did as much analysis as I do. I even have a spreadsheet devoted to my race results that calculates my percentage in the field for total and each event. With every positive I see, (Way to go!! My bike time was 5 minutes faster than the last time I did that route) there is almost always an accompanying negative (Although I cut 5 minutes off my bike, my bike rank was X lower than my swim rank and my swim rank was X lower than my run. Gosh, I really need to step up my bike and swim. ) In theory, this can be a great way to identify weaknesses and train to your strengths. However, for me, the analysis creates a variety of debits and credits which have to be reconciled in the "triathlon training bank".
During training, quality deposits must be made. On my bike, I have created a speed limit that must be exceeded. Should I fall below my limit, I question whether or not my ride is worth a deposit. In my swimming, I get upset if I do not make my assigned intervals or if my timed long sustained swim takes longer than ones previous. I consider if my swim workout was a debit or a credit. Consciously, I know that I should just enjoy being able to swim, bike, and run and relish being alone (a rare occasion as a mother of four). I should not beat myself up because I did not meet a self-imposed numerical goal.
There is a difference between knowledge and action. Today, my numbers obsession went into action.
When the alarm went off way too early for my swim, I contemplated rearranging my training schedule so I could sleep some more. (On Sunday, I completed my last sprint race for the season and I am not recovering as rapidly as usual. It may be related to the fact that I was camping and hiking the weekend of the triathlon, but who's to say?) I talked myself into swimming and got my body and my gear ready to go. As I am walking out the room, my two year old suffered from an attack of what best can be describes as "the terrible twos". He was screaming about a pillow and water, but when offered those things, he screamed even louder. I aborted the swimming mission and focused energy on getting the 2 year old calmed down, so he would not wake up the entire house, and back asleep. Finally, he found the right pillow, received water with ICE(always a prerequisite for him -- I still have not discovered which brother or sister I need to thank), and settled down to sleep. Too late to swim and return in time for Mr. Spie to get to work, I mentally rearranged my training schedule, deciding to run after school drop off with the two year old in the jogger and swim on Saturday. Then, I bed down for another 45 more minutes of glorious sleep.
After I dropped all of the urchins at their respective schools, the two year old and I returned home to start the run. I gave him food, a toy, and strapped him in for the long haul. He seemed content and I was celebrating the day and my additional sleep. My celebration was a little presumptuous. My route, due to some road construction, is three different intersecting loops. We walked for a warm up and then were off. The start of the run was uneventful and very pleasurable. My passenger was happy. I was happy. Then the road changed direction and I was running into the wind. I was using a double jogging stroller. Have you ever used a double jogging stroller? It is a little like pushing a weighted sail into the wind. Passenger was still happy. I was working hard, but happy. All was good. The training deposit was growing at a significant rate.
At start of the second loop, passenger was done with his food and was bored. Two year old + bored =trouble. At first he was rubbing his hand against the wheel, adding resistance to the run (into the wind). Not satisfied with the entertainment value, he decided to drive his toy car on the wheel of the stroller as I ran. This was entertaining until the point where he dropped it. I had to stop, run back, and pick up the toy. Now, bored and toyless, the passenger was NOT happy. He struggled to get out of his seat restraint, writhing back and forth like a fish out of water. Passenger, finally breaking free from the chains that bound him, stood up in his seat, turned around, and looked at me triumphantly as the stroller tipped backwards causing me to suddenly stop and right the stroller to avoid a football style pile up. Passenger decides he is going to sit in the other side of the stroller, without the seat belt. This is not acceptable. Passenger is strapped into stroller, seat belts are tightened, and we repeat the Houdini escape routine a couple more times.
As this is happening, I am still arguing with myself about running xx miles - the three loops. Passenger is obviously not on board with my plan, but I am going to persevere. I had been stopping the watch for a more accurate time every time I had to stop and will not admit defeat. If I wave the white flag and walk, I would have to rearrange schedules to make up the run tomorrow -- doubling up the workouts. You see, I planned to run xx miles this week at a xx:xx pace and if stopped and walked I would not make my numbers -- my deposit will be off.
Near the end of the second loop, I began bargaining with passenger. Realizing the third loop would never happen, I was promising the world (television) and the stars (more food) to have him sit so I could at least complete the second loop. The negotiations were tough as passenger held all of the cards but he finally sat down and we continued on our way home to the sounds of "Mom, the neighborhood tour guide" dialog. (Look, there's a dog. Look at that funny mailbox. Do you see those pretty flowers? Let's count down the houses to our house.) At some point during the intense negotiations, I FORGOT TO STOP MY WATCH. Now my numbers are OFF, SKEWED, WRONG, INVALID. I had no idea how long the negotiations lasted. As I ran the last few feet to my home, I am still trying to calculate how much time was spent in negotiations. Without an accurate time, I cannot calculate my pace. I cannot correctly bank my "run deposit" in my "triathlon bank". My run has become the pocket change that you leave in the cushions of your couch only useful if you need to give a child a bribe or allowance.
I walked into the house feeling physically and fiscally poor. Although I know I worked hard, if I could not quantify the effort of my run through numbers, was it really worth the effort? Did I really make a deposit? As I sat and recovered to the sounds of Dora and Map and cereal being eaten, I decided that even though I did not earn the amount of triathlon currency I had expected, I still worked hard for the deposit I had and decided it was worth a trip to the bank. After all, for me lately, it only comes down to the numbers.
The entry in the workout calendar for today:
Run x.x miles
No comments:
Post a Comment