Speed training

I did a mini speed training at the baseball field today. I biked 1 mile to the field; did 7 or 8 rounds of speed training, and biked 1 mile home. It was mini if not tiny, but I was so out of breath and my heart was racing like crazy.

This was the first time that I ever stepped on a baseball field. It felt like being on a baseball field. The next field, three guys were batting. I was not too impressed and also fear being hit by the balls.

I read a few days ago that runners who do not engage in speed training are prone to injury. The argument was that the body is doing repetitive works by the time the performance hit a plateau.

That made a whole lot of sense and is probably one of the reasons why I stopped improving and started having knee injuries. The biking has helped a lot on building muscles and I have been throwing in running once a week (for two weeks now).

I came home and did some post-run yoga with Youtube. I feel refreshed and relaxed now.

My mind was cloggy before I left for training. I was trying to process information I learnt this morning and dissect my feelings. I told my friend, before I left for speed training that -

I feel weird talking about it because this is his/her thing, and I'm afraid that I'll be judging the person. I didn't realize that I am very protective. I fear that the person will get hurt, and I have very conflicted feeling to my fear. I think I wouldn't have this fear in another scenario, and I think it's wrong of me to have double standards.

I have learnt that words are powerful, and can be interpreted very differently. For example, if I say: you will have to face me if you hurt X. The phrase is certainly protective and my intention meant well (also threatening), but it is also signaling that I don't trust X to protect or stand up for him/herself. 

And I feel bad for my parents, who will have to learn, accept, and make changes. I can imagine that this is a shock to them. My dad, who can't even dealt with my illness, has to learn to accept the world in another perspective that he never anticipated. This is like teaching old dogs new tricks. Life is hard as is, why makes it harder.

When my dad couldn't dealt with my illness, I could brush it off (not easily, but still) because I realized that being ill was not equal to failing. I was disappointed at him, but could sympathize with his feeling and frustration. He felt the daughter is no longer perfect and took this personally. While the truth is life is not perfect, it was perhaps difficult for him to accept this fact when for he has been so proud of his creation.

As for my mom, well, I don't know. Sometimes, she has the strength to accept life as is, while other times complaining about trivial and mundane stuffs.

Finally, this really cute song that I like, Cups, performed by Anna Kendrick.

 Now, off I go to drink my dinner (i.e., soy milk with real soy beans), and then to my weekly heart-to-heart session with real Americans.