Tim went to this year's US Open Music Competition and grabbed one first and
one fourth place. It sounds like bragging, but I sincerely wished he had won
nothing which could lead to quiting piano and freeing up time for physical activities.
I told him I did not like these competitions because one had to be judged by
others. I hated experts and would rather do something like lifting weights where
there would be no pity points, indulgences, or arguments about the gravity from
the earth. Now that he had won, the investors (meaning mom and to some
degree the music school), heartened by the prizes, would double their effort.
Poor kid. I just hope he had enough time later on to over-compensate for his
early sedantary lifestyle, as I have been doing after turning 40.
Sunday morning, I went up mission peak twice and surprised myself by actually
running 80% of the time and especially where the slopes were steep. Uphill,
leaning forward and trotting in tiny steps felt natural and easier than walking.
One had to have a strong core to hold the pieces together, but besides that
uphill running seemed to engage predominately the glutes. The other lower-body
muscles played a merely auxiliary role. That was where the deadlift (I finally
was able to do one session on Fri after about 10 weeks recovering from the left
forearm pain.) really helped.
Downhill, I adjusted the length of the strides according to the terrain to limit
the impact on my feet. When it was very steep, it felt like I was running with
lower legs only. The key here was control and never let the legs move on their
own. The bottom of my right foot still hurt at the balls. I just had to make
sure it did not get worse. I had switched to the Xero Z-Trail with the 10mm
FeelLite sole, which helped a lot. In total, it took me 3.5 hours and the next
morning I had no problem lifting weights.
Neither running or lifting weights shielded me from the wrath of Mother Nature,
however. I came back to the US at the end of Jan, hale and hearty and right into
the arms of spring alergies. The seasonal malady, like God, was no respecter of
humans, at least not of this person. By the second week, I started to feel it
and it had lasted more than two weeks. Actually Monday felt the worst. Even L
had it for the week, if that was any consolation.
I was commiserating with L in the morning when David from the next cube joined
in. He was from Hongkong and studied at the same Canadian university before
coming to the US. Tall, thin, and with his hair dyed a shiny black, David looked
young but was at least 12 years older than me. He was in general likable and we
were on friendly terms. Upon hearing that I recently traveled to Beijing and was
just out of quarantine he became instantly alert:
"The virus could hibernate for 24 days, I heard."
"Oh. Sure. It stayed with one for life whether he was cured or not."
I exaggerated and, at the time, thought a good idea to add a little drama:
"I actually volunteered at a hospital in Wuhan, helping fighting the virus."
The effect was unmistakable and he stepped back right away. "He's joking." L
explained but David retreated to his cube, nonetheless. L had a crazy race
schedule but said he would pace me if I ran the Pioneer Spirit 50 miler. It was
good to come back to a friend who tries to uplift me all the time.
