After lifting 225 lbs on Fri, cruising over 8.2 flat miles on Sat, and hiking
3.5 hours on Mission Peak on Sun, I took a rest on Mon. So here's a recap.
Fri afternoon I felt weak before lifting. It seemed after Wed's 6-mile brisk
run, my blood sugar level took a dive. In the gym, I was careless (due to
lack of energy and attention) when loading the bar and a 45-lbs plate fell
flat and landed on my right foot. I was only slightly hurt but took notice.
Attempting 265 lbs, I felt suddenly woozy as the plates barely left the floor
and I dropped the bar. OK. I failed. Big Deal! I did two sets with less weight
and called it a day. Driving home, I felt hungry and the dizziness dulled my
focus. It could be dangerous and I did my best paying attention to the traffic.
Sat morning, feeling better, I went on the Alameda Creek trail and ran a fast
eight-miler in Z-Trek. The bottom of the feet hurt slightly but otherwise no
recovery was needed. In the afternoon, again, I over-ate. That had become a
problem recently. Normal exercises such as under-one-hour runs gave some
sweat but no longer seemed to bail out food-binging. Neither did intermittent
fasting. Weight lifting had been putting muscles on me. I had to be extra strict
with diet to stay below 150 lbs and that required a stronger will than I had.
Sunday was gloomy, at least in the morning, as in the Sarah Brightman song, and
I felt I needed to get serious about my 150.6 lbs body weight. Since I ate one
meal a day, toward the evening was always when I felt the weakest and started
grazing when there was food around, which was pretty much all the time. I needed
to stay away from home in the afternoon.
In a pair of Z-Trek and worn-out jeans and my 2014 Bay2Breakers T-shirt, I
arrived at Mission Blvd at 1:10pm after having two peanut granola bars (2x170
kcals) and started climbing. The sun was bright but the air was cool. It was
perfect. I couldn't remember since when uphill became fun. I enjoyed the
powerful kick straightening my leg every step and kept passing people all the
way to the top. I did it in one hour and five minutes.
Going downhill was not my forte but I still chose the Horse Heaven trail to test
my legs. It was quieter and had three merciless declines. Many people ascending
carried, along with their supplies, painful expressions. I would pass and call out: "Good job, guys! And it's only three more hours."
and we would laugh.
I arrived at the Standford Ave trail head and finished the second 17oz water
before going back up on the popular route. My feet started to rebel but uphill was
still OK. I did very well again but didn't visit the summit. My feet had enough
and I turned north at the restroom to jog back toward Ohlone College.
"Is this the way to the Ohlone College?" came an innocent question from the guy
just outside the restroom. He looked a little pudgy and a small muffin-top
showed under his tight white T shirt. His pinky baby face made him look young.
Wearing a smile, he seemed very relaxed after coming down from the summit.
"Yes. Indeed. You are on the right track." I replied politely.
"Are you a student there?"
"No. Are you?"
"I am going to enroll today." He didn't seem serious.
"Oh. I see. But I'm not sure they are open today."
"That's too bad. I came all the way from San Jose."
By now, I started to see the pattern and agreed indignantly: "That's grossly
unfair. Not even their nice swimming pool is open. I think."
"Maybe we can just climb over and jump in?" Another innocent suggestion from him.
"That might be a good idea. You know. I never thought of that." Thus started the
bantering. I was happy to talk to take the foot pain off my mind. At one point,
I ran out of ammo and had to use big words such as "responsibility" and I
inadvertently brought the subject to my own hiking. What I learnt was that big
words kill conversations. It felt less fun and we said goodbye soon.
Back to me vs the trail. Whatever weakness one has, e.g., the quats, the glutes,
the cardio, etc., the trail would expose if he stays on it long enough. For me,
it was the feet. If the quads were already sore from the downhill trotting so
far, I didn't notice (I did Monday morning as the feet recovered). The 5.5mm
rubber sole had been more than enough at the start. Three hours later, however,
stepping on a single gravel on a hard surface would send excrutiating pain up
the spine. The legs did feel tightened up and the word "safety" first entered my
mind. I gingerly negotiated with the trail and made my way down. At the car, the
clock showed the whole thing took three hours and 30 minutes. I didn't feel the
hunger at all. It was completely masked by pain.
At home, the bathroom mirror revealed a bearded face--I had grown a white
beard from the salt I sweated out! And I lost four lbs despite of downing three
bottles of water.
The thing that pissed me off, besides that the legs needed two days to recover,
was that Tue morning my weight went back to 150.4 lbs! I seriously cannot
imagine Sisyphus happy.
My weight went up to 151.4 lbs Wed morning. Totally Unfair! I didn't over-eat last night.