The problem here is that I have an entry I should write, about quasi-cancer and
what happens after (don't worry, it's a long time ago now) but I don't really feel
like writing it and I most definitely don't want to write it from work. I think
it's blocking other subjects. So move along, no profundity here today. (She said,
as if there often was.)
Today was my first day of training for next
spring. I've decided not to race in Masters Nationals next month or in the head
races this fall. I may very well never do a head race in a single again in fact.
There's nothing left for me to prove to myself: I know I can do it and I know I
don't like it so why bother? Unfortunately I didn't get to row this morning (and
thus didn't get to try out my nifty new rear-view mirror, rigging wrnch or seat-
pad, sigh) because it was too windy. I did virtuously go to the gym again. I've
switched back to shorter sets with heavy weights, so buffness and muscularity will
be approaching in short order. (Um, they will, won't they?) This is feeling oddly
as if it were part of a sensible plan: heavy weights and less time on the water in
the off season, grading to lighter weights and longer sets to more days on the
water and fewer in the gym as the race season culminates. Sensible it is, really.
Planned? Um, no. Or at least only in the short term -- I did make each decision as
it came according to what made sense at the time. I do expect to be planning this
year a bit more, going from long and light rows with the emphasis on form
alternating with resistance rows, to more endurance work to shorter intense bursts
by next summer. I still won't be fast because I have reason to believe I'll still
be in this body at this height by then, but maybe I'll be
faster.
Rudder's even been making comments lately at how impressed he
is that I stick with this and at my speed-to-height ratio. Whether these stem from
actual impressed-ness or from a desire to keep peace in the home and maybe to
reassure me a bit, it's probably better not to ask. (Rudder knows it's not always
easy for me that he rows with another woman because she's a better partner for him
in size, strength and time available for training. I trust him totally, though,
and I trust and respect She-Hulk, and I'll have no qualms about them being in
Sacramento without me for the first couple days of Nationals -- maybe some envy
that I can't be there, but no qualms.)
I'm now in my annual Autumnal
throes, triggered as usual by the arrival of the first L.L. Bean fall catalog.
Yes, OK, I'm a materialistic beast, but it all goes together for me: leaves
turning and air that's crisp instead of ovenlike and sweaters and a utilitarian,
out-doorish style, fleece and long sleeves and should-I-wear-a-jacket, bonfires
and the start of a new year in both the Jewish and school year calendars. I miss
all that. I think I may wait until the first of August to let my credit card start
a new month and at least buy some long pants. It's easier than buying golden
leaves and crisp air.