"It's All About The Journey"

January 2011 found me running along Mission Bay early every morning.  I use the term "running" loosely.

After a quick snack of oatmeal or nuts to start the day, I walked out the cottage door of my vacation rental, on to the boardwalk of the bay just steps away.  The first two weeks I greeted each morning walking briskly along the sand, up to the park, curving around by the roller coaster, and circling back, across Mission
Boulevard along the ocean. Sun fresh off the dawn, flocks of birds gathering quietly along the water, an occasional "snowbird" or two crossing my path--an idyllic two-mile start to the day.

Attending a daily Fitcamp in San Diego on the bay,  I committed to working out twice a day and adding on as many walks by the sea as possible.  My goal was to make a difference!  I wanted the difference of feeling fit.  I wanted the difference of being physically prepared for an athletic event, as my first stair climb was February 2011, a half-climb of the John Hancock building in Chicago.

My friends and trainers taught and encouraged, inspired and supported.  They reminded me, "It's all about the journey."  I said I understood.

What I really wanted was to magically turn into a lean, fit athlete.  Something inside me was crying out for it.  Overweight since the mid 80's, I needed to move.  Not having moved for so many years, I didn't know how to make myself keep moving. 

I wanted to be strong.  I didn't know how to push myself to the necessary limits. 

I needed to accomplish, overcome, be victorious.  Finally I believed in walking forward without hesitation into every opportunity life offered.  I believed, "The time is now!"

Two weeks into this experience, walking along the bay one morning, I think it's time to run.  I tell myself it's impossible, I can't breathe, I just cannot do it.  Physically, I pick up one foot and then the other a little higher, a little quicker, and watch the street signs go by -- Avalon, Balboa, Brighton... I have to stop and walk again. Really, two blocks?

The next day I make it three, to Capistrano, and that's where I stay for many days.  It seems that my little three-block run is as far as I can go.

Then one morning as I start my jog at Avalon, Coldplay is on my i-Pod singing about being stuck in reverse, losing something, wasting love, lights guiding you home, and  best of all, igniting your bones...and I keep running.  The guitar picks up a steady faster rhythm in the instrumental section and the percussion flares up...stronger ...more guitar...the song swells..."Tears stream down your face," ...and sure enough tears are streaming down my face. 

I pass Balboa, Brighton, Capistrano, then Cohasset, Coronado, Deal...music is inside me, driving the crescendo of emotion running through me and then there's San Gabrielle Place, and just another block I'll reach Devon Ct. ..."when you lose something you cannot replace,"...yes, all these years...

..."I promise you I will learn from my mistakes"...and I'm promising myself. 

Devon Court!  I start walking again at Devon.  I laugh because back in Chicago, Devon Avenue is a few blocks from my home.  The music slows, coming to an end...

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Brushing tears from the corner of my eyes as these words become my vow to myself from that moment on, 

I know the light which guides me.

The journey Carisse and Palani talk about continues.  I did not magically become a super-fit athlete by February of 2011.  I haven't broken any records (yet.) 

I am healthy.

Sometimes I feel like everything's ignited! 

I'm taking care of myself,

already preparing for the fall season of stair climbing.

Understanding a bit more,

a good way down the road,

enjoying a look back

at this journey.

Dinner at 9 A.M.

Today's Bounty

I considered posting daily menu plans.   What looks good on paper and in books, intersects with real life however and requires continual adjustments to the plan!

Attempting to eat every three hours and having my big meal of the day at 9 a.m. involves strategic planning.  Sparing readers the details, suffice it to say I'm working on it.

Tried a new smoothie today.  Was looking forward to tasting it, but honestly, I didn't hold out much hope for anything called:

Blueberry and Broccoli Smoothie

Recipe
1 cup frozen Blueberries
1/2 cup steamed Broccoli
1 cup 100% cranberry juice (I used Pomegranate/Blueberry,"Pom")
1/2 cup non-fat plain Greek yogurt

SURPRISE!

It's delicious...can't taste the broccoli,

fruity, not too sweet, just right. 

So healthy and hearty too.

It's a meal!

Eating solely for fuel to build a strong body is the antithesis of every reason I ever ate before.

This may take awhile.





Re: Blueberry Broccoli Smoothie
      It's a large portion, so if you sip it over time, it does begin to
      separate.  Simply take a spoon and stir to bring it back to
      original consistency.  Seriously very good.  Harold tasted it
      and agreed to have it for dinner sometime with me!

Shifting Energy

Page from "In My Window,"
an early childhood book I wrote a few years ago.

Changing a bedtime and
rising-time should be easy, correct?  There can be ripples, accidental consequences, complications.  

I always thought of myself as a late night person, relishing those hours hidden from the day.  If pushed to say more, I'd reveal they feel stolen away from life, like my own special time wandering through the minutes without boundaries.  It's who I am, and who I'm thought to be.

I understand that my plan to be in bed at 9:45 and rise at 5:45 is accepted less than fully.  It's the same "grain of salt" which was in the air last November when I announced, "I'm going to become a competitive athlete."  So many years of staying up late and not exercising, naturally leads those who know me well to different conclusions.

My role fits into a neat little box, next to everyone else's role in each of their boxes, and we stack up however we stack up.  Regardless, it's what we do. 

Inevitable consequences when change occurs?  Yes.
Inevitably negative?  Doesn't have to be.

I met my goals... 1) of improving with each tower race this year, and  2) I topped the list of competitors in my age group in the race last Sunday.

Peers have asked how my knees hold out with all the stair climbing.  I've deduced that not having exercised for fifty-seven years actually leaves my knees in great shape for a sixty year old to be climbing stairs!  Likewise, my new theory is -- having never been disciplined about a regular bedtime, or exercise and proper healthy meals all these years, leaves me with an extraordinary amount of energy to apply to a regular bedtime, exercise and proper healthy meals!

I'm aware conventional reasoning proposes all these years of one behavior make it more difficult to change.  I am not conventional.  In truth, no one is...but that's another entry. 

We are each a glowing mass of energy. 

Cheers to no more boxes!



P.S.  And my blog written by 8:00 a.m.!

2012 Fight For Air Climb at Presidential Towers

What a different start to this race, compared to the Stratosphere last weekend! 
Ushered into a crowded cafeteria setting, I sit while Harold parks the car.  Next to my table, three fathers wait with sons and daughters.  I don't remember seeing any children in the Vegas climb.  Almost every table is full--climbers listening for their numbers to be called.  No music, no space to stretch or move around. The energy is not electric.  I even forget to make sure my iPod is set up correctly for the "stair music" Playlist.

Volunteers escort us across the street to Presidential Towers.  Efficient-- no lines, no hustle, no delay...simply walk up to the clock and, "Go." 

Inside the stairwell, I turn on my iPod to discover it's the wrong Playlist.  Yikes!  What is this music in my ears?  Certainly not stair climbing music!  Concentrating on climbing, I blindly push another button on the iPod, attempt to adjust to whatever song it is, and finally yank the earplugs out of my ears. 

No music today.  Just a very narrow stairwell.  And I do mean narrow.  Difficult for anyone to pass. Small amount of steps in each flight also.  Seems like I'm on another landing after every few steps!  So many people all bunched up together.  Very hot.

I skip steps in my new leaning-forward-one-hand-at-a-time-pulling-myself-up-on-the-rail technique.  Well, it's not a new technique, simply new to me.  This time I make it to about the fifth or sixth floor.  An improvement.

After that, the usual...except more crowded, hotter, and more closed in.  I'm longing for some of that electric energy from last week.  Most of the participants I've seen so far are young adults and they seem to be keeping about the same pace I am.  My problem, as ever, is that I have to stop momentarily from time to time, and they don't.

I come upon an older couple blocking the stairway climbing together, but don't have whatever it takes to pass them.  I start thinking out loud, "These steps sure are smaller than my last race," when the woman responds by asking me what race that was.  I reply, "The John Hancock...the Aon building...the Stratosphere..." and offer a dramatic pause before concluding, "...but the smaller stairs here, still aren't making it any easier for me to breathe!!!"  She, her husband and I all laugh.

I glance at my watch on floor 39 and think to myself there is no way I can finish this tower in the time my trainer said he thought I could.  When I left the gym after Friday's workout, on the way out the door Jesse called out, "Cheryl?"

"Yes?"

"Nine minutes!"

"What?  Oh, you mean my tower...9 minutes.  Got it!"

With the energy that has typified this morning, I continue on, crossing the finish line of my tower on the 49th floor, wishing I had done better.

Down the elevator, re-tracing my steps to Harold, I pass the women volunteers as they ask, "Are you climbing Tower 2?"  

Not today. 

One of them who remembered me from the start added,  "Well, you did this one really fast!"  Ha, I believe they thought this old lady would take longer.

On to Starbucks for a lengthy and animated discussion breaking down what happened each minute of this morning, over my iced decaf venti latte.  So many factors.  Over so quickly.  What if, why, how could I have, why didn't I...lots of second guessing.  But more importantly, starting to get my energy back as I plan for the fall!

Returning to Presidential Towers to hand in my timing chip, we run into Jesse, with Javier, PJ, Brady, Justin and the other elite stair climbers.  I'm excited for them and all their accomplishments... outstanding!   I let Jesse know I didn't make my tower in 9 minutes.  He says to wait there while he goes for an official print-out of my time.

A few minutes later he places a little piece of white paper in my hand.  I look down...underneath my name, across from Tower 1... it says: 

8:00:13

I let out a squeal of delight!  I  DID  make my nine minutes, and then some!  In fact, if I'd even run up the last three steps, I could have so easily shaved off that 13 one-hundredths of a second, and had a time of 7 and something.  Sooooo happy!

I return to stair climbing seven months from now.

Magic is going to happen!

I have a goal for each of these next seven months.  I will find the support I need in order to build myself into the stairclimber who leads in my age group. I will put in the work it takes to re-shape myself into the positively overflowing-with-health-and-fitness 60 yr. old I know I can be --  Even if it means eating tuna, asparagus, broccoli, kale, spinach, red peppers, eggs and beans every single day!

Turning 61 on October 13th,

I'll celebrate the full realization of this quest,

then blow the rest of 2012's Tower Races

through the roof!

Congratulations on all these amazing times!

Looking back, I improved with every single race.  Looking forward...the sky's the limit!

Monday morning:  Communication back and forth with timers from race late last night and this morning...turns out the 8:00:13 was actually what time it was when I reached the top. 
My time for the 49-floor climb was actually just posted at 7:55  !!

"Scale the Strat" 2012 -- On Top of the World

~~~~~~~

Ceasars Palace gym workouts under my belt...
healthy protein, salads and fruits ingested...
treated the night before with Rao's pasta followed by literally laughing out loud for an hour and a half at an outrageously funny show...

...now I sit down to my pre-race breakfast on Saturday, March 3rd. This time going with peanut butter and honey on nine-grain toast, banana and of course another pitcher of water.

Clothes laid out the night before with the same meticulous planning as the 6:45 a.m. wake-up call, breakfast order, inspirational music, precise time to catch a cab, and the mental pictures in my head of the stairwell with the times I expect to see on my watch at floor 54, 98 and 108.  Jesse said based on my John Hancock race time, I should be able to climb the Stratosphere in 30 minutes.  In my mind, I planned for finishing between 35 and 37 minutes.

Prayer, meditation, self-hypnosis.  Moving through the minutes without looking at a clock. The last shoe on, bag over shoulder, and out the door nonetheless, like clockwork.

In the elevator down, I decide to stop at Mezzanine level and walk to the Spa and gym entrance.  At this point, I cannot say exactly why I take specific steps or make certain decisions.  The day is rolling along as if pre-determined and yet full of discovery all at the same time.

Working at the desk happens to be a friend of three years, and I beam from ear to ear as he exclaims, "You've gone from good, to amazing!" or something to that effect.  It's not the words, but rather, the support and connection--since my family and friends are many miles away, it's good to have these moments of greeting and good wishes.  Now off to the Stratosphere.

In the mild sunny weather, my cab circles out of Ceasar's driveway to the strip. The driver, a woman in her fifties, and I begin talking right away. She's astounded I'm about to climb 108 floors and begins to tell her story.  It's difficult to exercise with her schedule driving the 3:00 a.m. shift. Even the two stories she climbs each day to get her cab hurts her knees. She's also nursing her 27 year-old son after his accident.  No time. Aches settling in. Worse each day.

I recommend drinking lots of water.  As I explain some deep breathing exercises for her, I begin to hear a shift in her voice.  Hopeful, she declares, "I'm going to do that! Thank you for telling me about this."  I go a step further, introducing her to healing techniques she can incorporate with the breathing. 

We reach the Stratosphere and now we're more than driver and passenger. She's as excited about this sunny day in her life, as I am about mine. When we part I feel like no matter what happens next, it's already been a great day!

I intentionally arrive by 9:30 for my 11:15 a.m. start time in order to take it all in. Small waves of climbers are released into the stairwell every fifteen minutes.  What I don't know yet is that first they walk up six flights of stairs together, then wait on that level to actually start the race 30 seconds apart.

In the meantime I register, arguing for a Medium t-shirt. I must get out of the habit of ordering a Large ahead of time -- an old habit from years of being overweight. I attach the timing chip to my sneaker, check my gear, crank up my iPod and take a walk outside. 

At this point it's impossible to be still, constantly moving--walking briskly, a little running, stretching, drinking, pacing, exploring...moving, moving, moving.  Upstairs to the lounge where I discover the 4-way split screen of the stairwell. Back down outside where participants are waiting their turn.  Back up...heard there were professional pictures offered, so took advantage of it pre-race, back down for another walk.

I meet Scott, an airline employee from Dallas, who in recent months has fallen in love with stairclimbing.  He studies Youtube videos by stair climbers--the same ones I found. When he learns that Jesse Berg is my trainer he's in awe saying, "You know, I get my training by watching Jesse, PJ and all the others in the videos!"  I realize anew how fortunate I am to have the opportunity to know Jesse and learn from him. 

The announcer calls my wave to the entrance. Loud club music is pounding the pumped up nerves we all have.  It's all good. I talk with a young man who is climbing for the first time.  A track runner, he reminds me of my son.  I tell him what I know, convinced he will do well. Next, we casually walk together up six flights of stairs to the start.

For the first time I wear a watch. It's actually 11:44:30 when I hear, "Go!"  Another first for me -- I start off skipping steps, leaning forward, hands pulling up on the rail, right then left then right then left...almost feels like gliding up the stairs.  I have the sense that when I get this thing up to speed some day, it will feel like flying!

If only my work was limited to legs, core, glutes and arms!  Too bad there's this whole other aspect of breathing!! By the third floor skipping steps, I no longer notice how it feels like gliding, but rather, how much more quickly my breathing is seriously labored...enough so, to take me back to single steps at a time.  This I know. I can keep my pace here.

Watching the floors tick off can be painful psychologically because somehow the numbers seem to stand still...shouldn't this be 34?  Not 31.  Happens over and over.  Yet every once in awhile when I catch a good floor number and glance at my watch, I think something is wrong with the time.  Now it's standing still.  How can that be?

I get confused, but keep putting one foot in front of the other.  As soon as water is available, I stop for a pointed-bottomed paper cupful and attempt to calm my breathing. Back on the stairs.

At floor 52, a volunteer cheers me on and says, "Hey, why don't you try skipping steps?" 

I think, "Hey, why don't you mind your own business and stick to cheering me on!"  But something in his suggestion actually propels my foot past the single step and I go back to skipping steps for another two floors.  At floor 54 it seems like my watch says I made it there in 8 minutes!

I stop briefly again whenever water is offered, and sometimes for a second or two at the top of the long flights. With each one, it's my breathing that slows me down.

My plan is to start running at floor 98. This is where I need a push, shove, mental leap...something, because I don't do it.  I keep my same pace, thinking I have to in order to breath at all. 

At some point up there, we hit a spot of fresh air, do a few funny turns and I'm in the home stretch.  Scott had mentioned someone told him when you get to the nicely painted white and yellow floors, you're near the end and that's when you can pour it on if you have it.

Coming up behind another older woman climbing steadily, I mention, "It's good to see these floor numbers now!" 

She answers, "We don't have anything like this where I'm from in Iowa."

I let out a, "Good for you then for doing this!!"  However, now I'm determined to pass her.  I'm from Chicago!

It's way late, but I slip around her on a landing, and run up the last two floors.

On the final step I glance up at the cameraman, full of joy.

Down the hall to the volunteers,

sinking into one of the black comfy chairs...

one big smile,

no discomfort.

They rip the timing chip off my shoe asking, "Are you sure you're Ok?"

Glancing at my watch...

I just climbed the Stratosphere in 28 minutes...

...much more than Ok!

~~~~~~~

P.S.  Turns out I was third out of three women in my age group!  That's fine...it was a big personal improvement from the race six days before...and, next year will have a different ending.

P.P.S.  Six days before, it took me 42 minutes to climb the John Hancock building!

Sunrise and Workout

When I stay near the top of Ceasars Palace's Augustus Tower, I like to leave the wall of curtains open wide when I retire for the night.  Waking to the sun rising in the distance over the mountains, is the perfect beginning to my daily routine.

This morning after watching the sky blend hues of black, blue, and grey with streaks and layers of pink, orange and finally yellow light of day, I reach for my cell phone to check my email--a rapid shift from the sublime to the technological.  All about connection though.

Opening a message from Linda, I read:

Dara Torres won her 12^th gold medal in the 2008 Olympics at the age of 41 and continues to train for her 6^th Olympics.  When asked about her age she said, “The water doesn’t know what age you are!” 

And neither do the stairs, Cheryl!  Keep it up!

The light to my day.

Proceeding to my workout, I designed it in real time to the time I expect to be on the steps of the Stratosphere, breaking down the sets of minutes into levels of exertion I plan for the climb at those same intervals.  I finished at exactly the time I want to finish on Saturday.

My subconscious is memorizing this. 

Running and stairclimbing are jobs of the subconscious mind.  It loves the job, like it loves to keep a heart beating or a lung expanding and contracting.  I'm giving it this new job!  My work is getting my conscious mind out of the way.

Later today I'll do it again.

Then rest.

Curtains open.