Sore No More

I am currently in Day 2 of the studio-living experience. In an effort to further professionalize myself, I recently chose to move into a one-bedroom cottage behind a house rented by a pair of Cal Poly professors. This last year, I lived with four college guys, three of whom were on the Poly track team. Because I will return as a paid-assistant for the track team next year, I decided it would be a better idea not to live with athletes I happen to be coaching.

My studio is reminiscent of what a loner, self-sufficient Alaskan wilderness junkie might occupy (only the San Luis Obispo “wilderness” happens to be slightly more populated). My residence measures 11’x 19’ and has a full size bathroom (that tilts on its side so that you're walking uphill on your way out) thrown in at no extra cost.

The rustic, lakeside cabin (minus the lake) reminds me of a vacation home my parents might rent. (Note that my family is aptly nicknamed the Griswold’s, a movie reference to an old series featuring Chevy Chase where the parents and kin closely adhere to Murphy’s Law.) Another definition might be 'fixer-upper.' The long wall opposite the front door is made of (what used to be) red brick. The colors have faded over the years and now range from a dull red to pink-bordering-white. The other three walls are covered by 6-inch wide planks of varnished wood. The ceiling matches the wooden walls while the carpet is a tightly-knit matting of various hues of brown. A small cut of linoleum juts out aimlessly near the “kitchen” area (composed of a gas stove and a sink). Adjacent to the stove is a brick fireplace, which now houses my television.

It's a bit of a step down from the master bedroom I called home last year, but hey, for $525 per-month, I’m not about to complain. Instead, I’m planning to embrace my redneck-like digs. First, I want to redecorate the interior, perhaps with a Confederate flag, a NASCAR banner and an autographed poster of the Blue Collar Comedy Tour guys. The exterior is rather rugged already, but I think a vintage car with corrosion marks, missing tires and a cracked windshield could add to the flavor.

Most importantly, I need an animal head to mount on the fireplace mantle. The animal head is paramount to any redneck home. I want something unique and ferocious, uber-manly. Right now my heart is set on a Sasquatch. Nothing says ‘I’m a man’ like Big Foot’s dome mounted on your wall. Or maybe I could go out to the hills and kill me a cougar using my bare hands – that would be pretty hardcore. Right now I’m rocking something slightly less vicious: A knee-high felt penguin wearing a red beanie, scarf and mittens. If I want others to take my redneck image seriously, I at least need to upgrade to a mean-looking squirrel.

Sadly, I believe I am precluded from joining the redneck community. My college education, full set of teeth and lack of persistent body odor would stand out like George Bush at a Green Peace rally no matter how much I changed my image.

Working out during the moving process was equally as dreadful as all the boxes and cleaning. Plus, I didn’t account for the extended half-life of the nuclear pain in my butt following that Atascadero All-Comers race last Wednesday. My upper hamstrings ached straight through the weekend, making everyday tasks like sitting down, laying down and standing up inappropriately difficult.

Despite the egregious pain in my ass, I managed a plyometric-based workout on Friday, back and biceps on Saturday and a 1-mile time trial on Sunday. I ran the time trial with Jason and MJ. It was a foregone conclusion that MJ would destroy us (being that he’s currently a Division I runner while I’m in the has-been category). MJ cruised the first 600-meters with Jason and me and then steadily spewed dust in my face en route to a 5 minute, 25 second clocking. I maintained hope that I could muster a kick in my final lap that would narrow the gap to MJ — and I did. I gathered myself and ran a brilliant lap, my feet floating along the track as if I had wings on my feet. I gapped MJ, coming within 10-meters into the last turn. Entering the final stretch, I let out a roar and went shoulder-to-shoulder for the final 50-meters. Oh, it was a race for the ages as we dueled over that last half-stretch, a pair of formidable opponents with bragging rights on the line. I leaned at the finish and barely overtook MJ for one of the most improbable upsets in the history of track and field.

At least that’s how it happened in my head. In reality, I was 200-meters behind MJ when he finished, but the previously described pipe dream has more intrigue. Truth is, just like last week, my legs promptly gave me the finger when asked to move faster. My time was a marginal improvement from one week ago as I clocked 5:57 while Jason regressed at 6:16.

The good news from the last month of workouts: I’m finally getting past that beginner’s soreness. Everybody goes through a period of hellish pain when they first begin a workout regimen. Eventually your body adapts and the recovery time decreases. The soreness I felt after that 400 is gone, my legs are recovered and, for the first time since beginning in late May, I have noticed significant improvement in my performance. Eventually, I’ll drop a few pounds (sorry Chrissy, I’m still a 165-pound fatty), but for the moment, I’m just happy to be pain-free.