Run. Dog. Cat. Cat. Me.

Everything you need to know about running and life and any other random crap I find bouncing through my mind like a ping pong ball. And always be sure your shoes are happy.

Archive for the tag “cat”

Well, that sucked. YAY!!!

I did six miles this afternoon and it sucked ūüôā ¬†I can’t hold a pace under 9:45 without an oxygen mask dropping from the overhead, I’m maxing my HR and my heart looked pretty much like this:

bugs bunnyOnly it wasn’t because I saw a sexy bunny.

This means that, one, I really am back to running because I’m no longer jogging along comfy just for the sake of being on the pavement. ¬†Two, I’m running. ¬†You can’t complain about a run if you can’t run. ¬†Thus I had the very sweet luxury of running along thinking *&^% this SUCKS. ¬†I SUCK. ¬†This run SUCKS, and as I thought it I found myself smiling with the joy of a sucking run.

Again proving runners are #crazynutjobs. ¬†But – we’re happy crazy nut jobs so you gotta love us, right?

This week has sort of sucked. ¬†First, I guess because Jen and I had talked about him, and then I wrote about it, Tuesday night I dreamed of my brother. ¬†I never dreamed of him when he died. I wanted to, I’d have taken any chance to see him even if just in a dream, but it never happened. ¬† This dream was incredibly real. ¬†Nothing special, Bret I were talking, about mom and anything else you’d talk to your brother about if you were in the kitchen one afternoon, and I remember nothing other than that. ¬†Then I woke up, which surprised me because I thought I was awake talking to my brother, and I realized it wasn’t real. ¬†It was SO real, and then it just wasn’t, it didn’t exist, and I started crying. ¬†I couldn’t quit and poor Hubs was lying there patting me on the shoulder. ¬†“Is it Murphy? ¬†Are you upset about Murphy?” but I just kept snorting all over, my pillow wet with tears. ¬†It was, quite frankly, rather stupid. ¬†Here I am, again, with my body doing something I have no control over. ¬†I mean, I tried. ¬†I bit the pillow, I clenched my jaw, I stuffed my face in the pillow – nothing. ¬†Just kept crying, except when I stuffed my face in the pillow because then when I sniffed I kinda choked because of course there was a pillow stuffed into my face. ¬†I guess actually you could say it was successful, in that I did quit crying while I choked. ¬†Anyway, I finally drifted off to sleep still crying and then the next morning I looked like I’d run into a wall.

Du Maurier

When I woke I realized I was going to have to call the Vet about Murph T. Dog because he’d been limping around since Monday afternoon and now he wouldn’t eat or drink, and he kept yelping when he moved wrong. ¬†Mostly he just wouldn’t move at all and I had to lift him into the Explorer and back out of the Explorer and he does weigh about 36 pounds hanging there in my arms, miserable. ¬†Then he pooped on the Vet’s front door step. ¬†“My dog just pooped on your door step,” I announced, carrying the limp bag of dog cement into the office, “do you have some paper towels I can use?” ¬† They were very nice and refused to let me try to pick up poop while holding the aforementioned 36 pounds of useless dog and one of the techs cleaned up my dog’s poop for me. ¬†I’m sure this is not the first time she’s had to do that but I still felt bad.

He has a couple vertebra that have been a problem in the past and sure enough, he hurt it somehow, so they filled him with shots and I carted home two pill bottles about the size of a jelly jar.  He moped around in pain and finally hid under the bed, having eaten one little doggie biscuit and two very large, peanut butter wrapped pills.

Thursday morning he came downstairs almost sort of perky and Chunk was not upset when she saw him so I figured that was a good thing since she gets rather insulted when people don’t feel well, like it’s a bother to her somehow. ¬†“Oh, I’m sorry I’m vomiting out most of my insides, Chunk, I know you find it offensive,” I feel compelled to apologize. ¬†Oddly, despite her complete irritation and disdain for all things sick or injured she is strangely fascinated, roaming about smacking inanimate objects and the offender, yet she refuses to leave their side. ¬† “Smack! ¬†Quit it!,” she seems to be saying and it makes me think she was a neurosurgeon in her past life as my experience with neurosurgeons evidenced about the same level of compassion, not that I’m bitter or angry, just stating facts.

Unfortunately Thursday afternoon he stood up, yelped quite loudly and refused to move, just stood there, head hanging, heart pounding. ¬†Well crap, I thought, maybe he’s ruptured a disc or something. ¬†It was too late to call the vet so I carried him upstairs, he scooted under the bed and never came back out. ¬†In fact he appeared ready to stay under the bed the rest of his life so this morning I had to get the mattress and box springs off the bed and carry him downstairs. ¬†Despite not eating much in the past 48 hours I can attest that he has not lost any weight, and we repeated Wednesday morning only omitting the pooping on the door step, which made me happy.

They knocked him out with a muscle relaxer, Xrayed his back and gave him some different steroids and gave me another big bottle of pills. ¬†Since Murphy was splayed out in a kennel like a freshman at 4am during rush week I left him there and will get him later this afternoon. ¬†The Vet prefers – and we concur – to try to treat this medically. ¬†Surgery is an option but I really hope that is not going to happen. ¬†I expect if you could ask Murphy he’d agree.

So – my week kinda sucked but it’s a luxury to have a sucky week with a tough run and a sick dog because I know a whole bunch of people with way worse things going on, marriages and cancer and death so I think what you should do is ruefully shake your head at this week’s travails and go kiss your loved ones and also kiss your dogs and cats despite the fact you will get hair in your nose and sneeze.

The End.

It’s a Beautiful Day

It’s a beautiful day, indeed. ¬†This morning I watched the houses across the cove glowing slightly golden in the sunrise as the sky grew bluer, the lake truly smooth as glass although it sounds trite; my soul as smooth and calm as the lake’s surface.

This is the day I’ve struggled toward these past few months, a morning when Brain has decided to quit stomping on the ICK button it’s been stuck on for so long, a day for silent contemplation of the sound of the birds as they flit back and forth, for looking closely at the soft fuzzy buds on the dogwood, for soft, slow, deep, calm breaths.

In the dark night I felt Chunker curled up in the curve of my neck and shoulder, something she did always as a kitten but then stopped. ¬†I don’t know why, perhaps to roam, as she grew into a cat and became more nocturnal. ¬†I reached my hand to her fur, so incredibly soft, the softest cat I’ve ever had. ¬†She stretched her paw to my hand and purred and I drifted calmly to sleep.

It’s easiest, of course, when I can keep it simple but, like most, I seldom do. ¬†Or can. ¬†But I can continue to strive.

Sometimes as I struggled to find a solution to this pain I wondered – more frequently than sometimes, actually – often I worried that I was simply a wimp, that others hurt just as much but don’t show it, they are stronger somehow, they feel pain but don’t succumb as I did.

Perhaps that’s part of my peace this morning. ¬†I’m going to try running ten (very easy, slow) miles with Becky this morning. ¬†I think I can do this. ¬†As I was setting out my bottle, charging my Garmin, and eating my breakfast my mind lingered only on the thought of taking it slow and getting it done, and I realized I had not thought once of how much it would hurt.

It’s a beautiful day
The sun is shining
I feel good
And no-one’s gonna stop me now, oh yeah

It’s a beautiful day
I fell good, I fell right
And no-one, no-one’s gonna stop me now

Sometimes I feel so sad, so sad, so bad
But no-one’s gonna stop me now, no-one
It’s hopeless – so hopeless to even try.


I woke this morning still tired, still coughing, still sniffing, and still not running on day 12 of the Cold from Hell. ¬†I did a bit on the treadmill at Killer’s on Friday but had to keep slowing so I could hack up more of my insides. ¬†We have a huge yard for which I’m extremely grateful, the beauty, the trees, birds and squirrels, very blessed. ¬†We spent two hours yesterday raking leaves and got about 1/20th of the yard done. ¬†Today is the last nice weather for most of the week and I will not be doing yardwork as I have to work. ¬†I’m going to be doing the damn leaves until May. ¬†Hubs’ idea of doing leaves is vacuuming up the stuff in the flat part of the yard with the mower and filling a garbage can weekly, sometimes getting a couple extra bags filled if he has enough time. ¬†His spare time weekly totals about 3 hours so you can see that at that rate we’ll be done doing the 2013 leaves in about 2018. ¬†I’m watching my body age and change and I don’t like it. ¬†I don’t like how clothes fit differently. ¬†I don’t like that everything is sliding slowly, inexorably, toward the floor. ¬†I don’t like feeling even more tired even more often. ¬†Hubs asks, why are you so tired? ¬†I DON’T KNOW. ¬†The cat is peeing in that spot on the carpet again which indicates the UTI is no better or she’s stuck in a bad habit. ¬†Since she’s also bogarting the floor heating vent I’m going with the UTI. ¬†I don’t know what else to do. ¬†I keep a huge towel in the spot, the only compromise I can come up with unless I throw the cat away, which some people might suggest but it kinda goes against my personal theology to throw away living things which fail to meet my expectations, although I will indulge my occasional and extremely poor coping mechanism of throwing several very loud F bombs around the house. ¬†This probably only serves to create more peeing when I scare the cat with my screaming so there’s another fail.

I am stuck in a funk.

The idea of coaxing anyone out of a funk by showing them evidence that someone else definitely has it worse is, to me, ineffective. ¬†If you are having a bad day, you’re having a bad day. ¬†Who knows what else is going on in someone’s life? ¬†Who knows what else is going on my life? ¬†(Right, not a very good personal argument since I spew my life all over the interworldweb like I currently spew coughs, but we’ll assume a lot of people do have things in their lives about which we are not aware.)


This is my friend’s son:

Cancer patient and avid golfer Kevin Bezon, 28, has grown too weak to stand, but he doesn‚Äôt regret the many things he can no longer do ….Doctors have found more tumors on the lining of the brain that are resisting chemotherapy, but Kevin told his father, Ron Bezon, in December that his body is tired, and he doesn‚Äôt want another surgery. His father said, ‚ÄúHe‚Äôs almost at end-of-life care.‚ÄĚ

This article is copyrighted by the Commercial Appeal and I’ve linked the article in the quote above.

I’m not much of one to ask people to donate money, however, if you are currently considering supporting St. Jude, please consider doing so through Kevin’s page.

Meanwhile I’m going to get things ready for today’s race. ¬†I’m going to wear my Adidas to the race and I’m going to get a little jog in this sunny day while the runners are out on the course. ¬†If I have to stop and cough a bunch of crap out, tough sh*t. ¬†When I get home I will rake leaves for whatever daylight remains. ¬†The cat can pee on the towel, we’ll all live through it, and I will once again move the towel 6 inches closer to the litter box every couple days until she’s back using the box; it will probably cost about a minute of my life.

11:15am update:¬† Heading to the race site. ¬†When I first looked at Kevin’s page he was 12% of goal; he is currently 16% of goal!

5:45pm update: ¬†He’s at 25% of goal!

Karma, or Enter the Spawn.

no life without water

Having birthed the spawn of satan into the world on a napalm flow of snot for the better part of the day yesterday and later coughing out the rest of his minions through my lungs I’m a bit worn out today; copious amounts of coffee are just as spitting in the wind. ¬†On the plus side I got an abs of steel workout without buying a DVD. ¬†Another notch on the plus side: ¬†I can see again. ¬†Thank God it appears Vicks Vaporub is not fatal to eyeballs. ¬†Also it is, indeed, possible to “Cry Me A River”.

“So you took a chance
And made other plans
But I bet you didn’t think that they would come crashing down, no.”

That’s where I went wrong, once again flying high on getting a run Thursday and immediately taking a chance, making more plans (this run is good! ¬†I’m back! ¬†OK, Friday I’ll do this and Saturday I’ll do that and Sunday it will be …) only to crash to earth Friday morning, victim of human frailty and satan-worshiping germs as the Virus From Hell wrapped me in its evil embrace. ¬†BWAAAHAHAHAHA it chortled as I choked, lungs aflame. ¬†GO AHEAD! ¬†MAKE PLANS! ¬†BWAAHAHAHAHAHA!

atomic blast

Yesterday when I woke it appeared I was (mostly) done coughing and, unaware a lava flow was busy heating up inside my head, I failed to realize why I was feeling down, instead blaming it on the fact that my friends were lining up at the Swampstomper start and I wasn’t. ¬†A couple hours later I realized as far as Swampstomper went it’s just as well I broke my foot unless the karma gods, if I hadn’t broken my foot, would have spared me this cold; either way, not running because of the foot or trying to run with a healthy foot but this cold, it’s obvious that race was not meant for me this year. ¬†Never trust the karma gods.¬†

It’s disheartening to realize, as I do occasionally before I can force myself to forget again, that the first day I ran pain-free since July 2012 was the same day I broke my foot. ¬†Those first two miles – my brain singing the¬†Hallelujah Chorus¬† (which you need to watch right now because I just watched it again and it’s going to be a few minutes before I can type much since I’m crying coughing choking laughing, so you have a break) – those first two miles, pain-free!¬† I floated, gloating, certain I’d found the cure, that running Nirvana is now MINE MINE MINE, clutching the joy … and then I took one more step, too greedy – but those two miles – they were heaven.

It’s human nature, I suppose, to continue to think surely this is the day, certainly it will be like it used to be or even better.

If this thought is based upon some provable fact, yay, you’re right. ¬†“Today will be sunny. ¬†See? ¬†There’s the sun, shining.” ¬†Additionally the odds are you do not live in Memphis.

If this is based on cheerful hope, you are an optimist. ¬†“Today will be sunny, ” you think, living in Memphis, you foolish fool.

If this is based on a belief in some type of cosmic lottery which says at some point it will be time to ease up on any given person, it’s idiocy. ¬†“It’s rained for 24 hours, surely the sun will shine in Memphis today.”

karma gods

Although I’m not really sure what the cats did to piss off Karma I think I should¬†check the closet. ¬†I bet they pooped in my shoes.


Good cheery sunny wintry day, my friends, Boy and Girl, I know you’ve been bereft and probably devastated at the dearth of chatter over here at rundogcatcatme. ¬†I’ve missed you both terribly, I thought of you at least twice in the past three weeks or so and by this you can tell that I am very torn up.

Chunker is currently hauling her poor ratty baby (formerly some fuzzy squeaky toy) around, mewing at it as though it will somehow animate and become the baby her un-baby-making body is apparently yearning for.  Who knows why, maybe she has some hormones still hanging around?  Years ago I had a cat whose ovaries grew back.  What the hell?? I asked the vet, can she get pregnant?!?  He rolled his eyes slightly; pointing out that her uterus no longer existed even if the ovaries were trying to make a comeback.  Well, the damn ovaries are growing back, how do I know the missing uterus might not suddenly become sentient and return to sender?  For the rest of her life, several times a year, she hauled her little babies around for a week or so, mewing sadly.  Just as Chunker, she was a poor mother, leaving the helpless and hapless babies strewn about the house in high traffic areas, ready to be stomped deader.


Chunk and (soon to be abandoned on the stairs so I can nearly break my neck trying to avoid slipping on it) Baby

Speaking of slipping on the stairs and not breaking my neck, that is exactly what I did a week and a half ago, and I’m still hurting and still have a good-sized bruise for the experience. ¬†Suddenly I wish we¬†had carpeted the stairs. ¬†The one thing I’ve been most worried and cautious about – and of course it happened. ¬†Why did I not spend all that effort worrying I would win the lottery, if that’s how the gods are going to handle my life? ¬†Just as I got to a point that my foot was mostly pain-free I returned to constant pain – the first couple nights it hurt so much that I woke every time I turned (or tried to turn) over. ¬†I managed to land on two treads at once so mid-back to upper hip were one large pain fest. ¬†But, hey – sh*t happens, right?

The first of December, bored out of my un-exercising mind and needing something to focus on (not that I’m OCD, I just have a one-track mind at times which, oddly, Hubs pronounces “stubborn”) I had the brilliant idea of knitting scarves for some of my progeny. ¬†Five, in fact. ¬†Five 7-foot long scarves. ¬†Hey, easy breezy, right? ¬†Four-five hours per scarf, gives me something to do in the evenings while repeatedly scanning 573 channels for something – please Baby Jesus,¬†anything – to watch on TV, an effort I quickly abandoned and set myself up, instead, in front of Netflix where I watched three seasons of Chuck, finally surrendering even that attempt because my match-maker heart could no longer stand the ever-dangling relationship with Sarah. ¬†Unfortunately it turned out it was more like 10-12 hours per scarf but I’ll be damned, I started it, I’m finishing it, so my life faded into a tunnel-visioned knit 2 purl 2 with some life crammed in around the edges trying to get ready for Christmas.

While getting ready for the holiday was a bit of a rush, the week of Christmas was great as we did something we’ve never done: ¬†the entire family met in Gatlinburg for the week, except for number 1 son and our great new daughter-in-law, whose work schedules prevented them from coming. ¬†We had a 4-1/2 bedroom cabin in the mountains outside Gatlinburg, beautiful views of fog covered ridges; Christmas Eve it snowed a bit and we woke Christmas morning surrounded by snow frosted mountains. ¬†We’d agreed no gifts except for the B’ster and did Dirty Santa instead, although as mom I felt compelled to give a few little gifts such as the aforementioned marathon scarf knitting. ¬†Later that morning we hiked, even the B’ster and I were able to go along for a couple miles of easy trails to a waterfall and an abandoned cabin.

Thanks to T-1’s girlfriend I have become a jigsaw puzzle convert and while I am not OCD I did spend several hours peering through my trifocals at the brightly colored shapes, feeling a bit like a little kid getting a piece of candy every time I managed to complete a section. ¬†Very self-rewarding, at least for a while. ¬†I brought along knitting, Christmas cards, two books and several movies as though I were going to have time for all that; I managed to knit about six inches of an attempt at a boot cuff, read three paragraphs one night before collapsing into a dreamless sleep, and the only movies we watched were B’sters – which were more fun anyway. ¬†We played games, hiked, shopped, went site-seeing and ate about every 3 hours. ¬†It was perfect.

Yesterday morning we woke bright and early, the twins and girlfriend were heading back to Chicago; T-2 will spend the week there and fly back to NYC January 1st.  I watched them drive away, tears rolling down my cheeks, my heart and my heart driving down the road.  Everything changes, everything stays the same.

Zooming through my Zoo

5:05am and wide awake again. ¬†I think I may start trying to do the elliptical. ¬†I hate to drive to the center just to ellipticize for 20-30 minutes but I’m going to have to do something to use up some energy and calories so I can quit waking so early with nothing to do. ¬†The exploding head would probably blow off some energy but it’s so much messier.


You know, it’s fairly easy to find an argument on Google for whatever you wish to find permission to do, so I did use the elliptical at Killer’s on Friday for 20 minutes. ¬†I actually did it for about 10 minutes, with a rest every other minute because I have, indeed, lost that much fitness in five weeks and had to stop and breathe every other minute. ¬†We will not dwell on that. ¬†I balanced on my heel with no pressure on the forefoot and it didn’t hurt. ¬†I haven’t tried again; I don’t want to screw anything up even though, as I said, it didn’t hurt – I’ve been burned by the Injury Fairy so many times in the past 15 months that right now I’m gun shy. ¬†However, from what I could find on The Great Oracle Google, it’s OK to do the elliptical if I’m stabilized in the boot. ¬†Now I shall consult the other two Great Oracles, you, my two faithful followers of my world-famous blog. ¬†Should I do the elliptical or not?

Remember, the safety of my family, the animals and my foot lie in your hands.  No pressure.

Meanwhile back at the Zoo, waiting for the Shrine to heat up, I let Murphy out. ¬†Hubs said, don’t forget Murphy. ¬†I said, it’s 5:15 in the morning and it’s cold and rainy, he won’t last five minutes out there before he’s scratching on the door. ¬†On the way out to the gym hub’s final words: ¬†just don’t forget Murphy.

So, of course, I did and now he is not in the yard. ¬†dammit. ¬†It’s 35 degrees and raining lightly and I’m out on the deck in the darkness (I tell you, I hear shuffling. ¬†Do snakes shuffle? ¬†Maybe it’s a fox. ¬†Rabid racoon? ¬†I know it’s not Murphy because his collar jingles.) yelling softly (and how stupid is that? ¬†can you even yell + softly? ¬†Isn’t that just talking?) ¬†MURPHY MURPHY but no response. ¬†I’ve had no coffee. ¬†I really really do not want to go down the steps of the deck and hobble around the yard in the dark, in my sock feet sans boot, stepping on razor sharp edges of hickory nut shells which the squirrels constantly drop from the tress, littering the path. ¬†I go to the kitchen door and stand in the carport MURPHY! ¬†MURPHY! and the damn cat scoots out the door and under the car.

I do not have my boot on and I’ve had no coffee. ¬†I’d intended to get a cup of coffee and then get ready for the day. ¬†Now I don’t have time to get my boot on because if the damn cat gets under the deck the story is over and I’ll be crawling in rainy drizzly cold wetness in the dark where snakes might live and that’s going to happen exactly: ¬†never. ¬†I try to peer under the car to see if I can grab her, but I can’t see anything. ¬†Oh, wait, it’s FIVE EFFING O-DARK-THIRTY IN THE MORNING and it’s pitch black outside in the dark rainy morning in which I’ve had no coffee. ¬†Plus I can’t bend all the way over because then my forefoot bends *ouch* so I’m kind of hunched like some crabby old cat lady whispering dammit Chunk! ¬†I hobble back into the house and grab the broom, meanwhile trying to intimidate Mo enough that he won’t go near the open door, which is open in the useless hope the damn cat will run from under the car back in through the open door and into the house. ¬†Plus, intimidating Mo is like candy from a baby, there’s no need and it’s mean so now I feel bad.

I swipe the broom under the car and she scoots out … and directly around the corner to the front porch which is freeking dark as night because it IS night. ¬†I hobble after her in my sock feet on the pebbly surface of the carport *ouch* *ouch* *ouch*. ¬†I can’t see her on the black hole of a porch so I hobble back into the house and around to the front door and turn on the porch light. ¬†Scurrying like a crab I return to see the damn. cat. scoot¬†back under the damn car. ¬†

!@!#$!!!   &^%$!!  *&(*&&^!!!!  and  @#$%!!! I mutter as I sling the broom under the car, swiping wildly.  Where is the damn cat??

Oh, I see.  There she is, so cute and fluffy, sitting in the kitchen doorway watching me attack nothing under the car.

“Whatcha doing, mom?”

Munker and baby

Look at that sweet innocent face, taking good care of her baby to show me how it should be done.

Then I drove ¬†around the block twice trying to find the dog. ¬†I gave up and went home only to find Murphy right there in front of our house, peeing on the neighbor’s bushes. ¬†Tucked tail, ears down, he runs into the back yard and onto the deck. ¬†OH, look, here I am! ¬†Right where I should be!

I’m going to have to do something to use up some energy and calories so I can quit waking so early, forced to be responsible before I’ve had coffee. ¬†The exploding head would probably blow off some energy but it’s so much messier.


Snowmageddon part 47 & Queen

Well, boy and girl, it’s time to panic and it’s not even Thanksgiving yet. ¬†We’re all gonna die.

Monday, November 25, 2013:  Today A chance of snow and sleet before 10am, then a chance of rain and sleet between 10am and 1pm, then rain likely after 1pm. Cloudy, with a high near 40. Southeast wind around 5 mph. Chance of precipitation is 70%. Little or no snow accumulation expected.
Tonight Rain likely before 7pm, then rain and snow likely between 7pm and 1am, then a chance of rain and sleet after 1am. Cloudy, with a low around 32. East wind around 5 mph becoming north after midnight. Chance of precipitation is 70%. Little or no snow accumulation expected.
Tuesday A chance of rain and sleet before 7am, then a chance of snow and sleet between 7am and 10am, then a chance of rain after 10am. Cloudy, with a high near 44. North wind 10 to 15 mph. Chance of precipitation is 40%. New precipitation amounts of less than a tenth of an inch possible.

So:  you need to quit reading this stupid blog right now and go kiss your loved ones and hold them tight before Snowmageddon savagely rips you asunder.

I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever used “asunder” in a sentence. ¬†I’m kinda proud.

To any innocents out there that accidentally trip across my blog, I apologize for wasting your time and if you don’t live in Tennessee Snowmageddon may not affect you but I will still keep you in my prayers just in case and will offer this word of explanation. ¬†At the hint of the possibility of the word of SNOW and/or SLEET Tennesseans immediately grab their car keys and rush to the grocery to stock up on wood (yes, at the grocery), bread and milk just in case they get snowed in for weeks and weeks under the 1/4″ spotty dusting of snow.

Meanwhile I’m sitting here safely ensconced in ShuBootAh, which I have not thrown across the room in 6 days and about, oh, 20 hours, so now I can be proud of both that and “asunder”. ¬†Which I would really like to do to ShuBootAh. ¬†But I won’t. ¬†Not that I don’t frequently invent scenarios in which it is torn asunder by savage beasts while I plead no. ¬†no. ¬†please. ¬†stop. ¬†So I’m just sitting here, not doing anything, just sitting. ¬†Interminably sitting, except when I LurchThud to the kitchen for more coffee, scaring the shit (literally) out of poor sweet Mo kitty who scrambles quickly under the bed or behind a chair. ¬†He loves me but he hates ShuBootAh. ¬†And, by the way, my BRFF “Heather” got 49 majillion points for naming the boot.

If either of you wondered, and I’m sure you didn’t since you’re #crazynutjobrunners yourself and surely already know, there is a correlation between the mileage you are putting in and the number of hours you’d like to sleep if Satan had not invented alarm clocks. ¬†Unfortunately, for me at least, there is also a direct correlation between the number of hours you can’t sleep and number of miles you are not running and this past weekend found me wide awake before 5:30 both mornings. ¬†Also, unfortunately, it found me full of energy.

Sooooo by 8:30 Sunday I was up for three hours and I’d already made coffee, read the paper, made more coffee, had breakfast, did the crossword while drinking coffee, watched TV with some coffee and even, desperately, pulled out some needlework to do. ¬†I thought I might vacuum the house (silly idea, I know, but those fluffy balls of cat and dog hair floating up off the stairs and floor continue to stubbornly refuse to disintegrate). ¬†Sadly, I can’t get the vacuum, me, and the boot down the stairs and I’ll be damned if I take the chance of slipping and hurting any other part of my body. ¬†Then I thought of just setting the vacuum on the top stair and kind of holding on but sort of push it down the stairs (which I’d really like to do, in truth, but not because I’m afraid of falling), however the realization that it would smash into a bunch of pieces upon landing on the tile below was enough to dampen my enthusiasm for any part of the activity. ¬†The second realization, that I would then have to explain to hubs that we need a new vacuum when 5 seconds previously we had a perfectly good one pretty much did a Niagara Falls on the idea. ¬†Washed out completely. ¬†So I stuck the vacuum back in the upstairs closet and sighed.

I THUD lurched around the house a bit, aimlessly, swinging my arms.  Maybe that will use up some energy.

And maybe Bill Gates is pulling into my drive right now to announce he wants to give me $10 majillion dollars.

I had some¬†trouble getting out of the pity party. ¬†Everything that distracted me was lame. ¬†It was such a pretty day, cold and crackling crisp, 25 degrees when I woke, but I’m OK with that, I run in the cold and don’t mind it – too much – as long as it’s dry and not windy. ¬†I tried not to look out the window at the beautiful morning as every time I did the¬†zing shot through my head. ¬†“Dammit” ¬†“I can’t run

NOPE quit, stop, do something.

I went back to the den and sat down again, pulling out the needlework and started scrolling through the 987 channels which had nothing good on any of them, I think I need to pay for HBO.

BUT, wait, what is this?  A 2-hour special on Queen?  Followed by a 2-hour special about Freddie Mercury??

I wasn’t a huge hard rock fan in high school. ¬†Heck, at 13 I was still a Monkees fan (yes. ¬†I was a complete nerd, walking around in my high water jeans since I’d hit 5’8″ the year previously and there was no Gap store in my mall, offering jeans in Tall, nor would my South Dakota farm-raised mom understand the need for specialized jeans. ¬†When she was growing up she had two sets of clothes: ¬†Milk the Cows outfit, Go to School outfit). ¬†I used to think maybe Davy Jones would some day visit Phoenix and be walking down the mall, and I would be at the mall and I would be walking along and he would see me and little fireworks would pop around in the air above his head and he would fall in love with me.

I’m lying. ¬†I didn’t really think that would happen.

But – you know – it’s not like it’s completely impossible, like Bill Gates driving up to the house would be. ¬†And you can see, by my relating this sweet innocent dream, that I was not born the cynic I’ve become. ¬†I look back at that 13 year old and pat her on the head. ¬†It’s OK, you’re doing fine.

Anyway, I digress. ¬†Queen. ¬†I do love hard rock now and play it loudly as I drive around town, me, Queen, AC/DC and my AARP card, I’m rocking it out now, wild and crazy, and no one’s stopping me. ¬†It was particularly fun for me as I got to go to Switzerland once and hubs and I took a day trip to¬†Montreux, where we got our picture taken in front of his statue. ¬†What an incredibly talented man. ¬†I never knew he sang opera. ¬†You learn something new everyday, they say, those “they” people.


Hello, Old Friend

I just checked my Garmin, which is at 32% – so now it’s on the charger for a bit before I head out and I will ruminate while I wait.

It’s cool, damp and breezy, a storm coming in later this afternoon. ¬†It will be a good day to stay in and cook with my mom. ¬†Number One Son is getting married Friday and we are having a gaggle of people here tomorrow night for BBQ. ¬†She and I will spend a dry, warm, cozy afternoon making potato salads, slaw and cookies while it rains outside. ¬†The cats will wander in and out and the dog will hound our every step waiting for something to drop, CHOMP. ¬†Homey. ¬†Nice.

Monday I headed out for wog/slog/jog, whatever it might be called. ¬†I managed four miles and nearly three of it jogging. ¬†I missed doing them Sunday, but otherwise I’ve been getting my planks done every day. ¬†It could be said they are getting easier but that’s rather like saying running hills gets easier. ¬†It doesn’t because as soon as it does you go faster or longer. ¬†In the article I read the author was told by her PT that she should be able to hold several planks “very” easily for 60 seconds. ¬†I’m holding three and my arms are not quivering quite as much. ¬†I guess that does not indicate I’ve reached the “easy” stage, much less the “very”. ¬†But at least they no longer feel quite as much like limp noodles. ¬†That’s good, right?

I run in the neighborhood across the street from me as mine is rather chock-a-block with a busy road you must take in order to get to the other parts of the area, so I run to the end of my street, cross the busier street and run in the lovely, quiet neighborhood there. ¬†I headed out and nothing really hurt, just pinging. ¬†Pinging, once a bad sign, is now a good sign. ¬†We’re moving backward through the aches. ¬†Peeling off the layers.

It was cool and breezy, beautiful. ¬†This fall is not as colorful as some but there is one tree that is a beautiful orange, I don’t know what kind of tree but they stand out, so pretty. ¬†I love my four mile route through the neighborhood which, when developed, wisely did not do any clear-cutting. ¬†Huge oaks, shag-bark hickory, maples, large houses set back from the winding street.

Right now on this route I frequently see a doe with twins that look about half grown. ¬†I’m guessing one is female and one is male because, first, one still has some spots on her hind quarters and the other doesn’t, and secondly because the other one tends to be further from Mom every time I see him, while the lightly spotted one is right by Mom. ¬†“HEY! MOM! ¬†Watch! ¬†Look! ¬†I’m in the other yard!” ¬†It’s not quite on the level of finding out over Christmas dinner, when you sit back and just listen for a while as the four of them laugh and tell stories on each other, that some of your progeny went porta-john tipping one night, but it still seems more a male thing than female. ¬†Rather like the B’ster in his Superman costume showing his “guns”. ¬†I don’t remember my daughter worrying about her “guns”. ¬†I think of this and it makes me laugh every time I see the deer.

It’s no wonder the deer roam, safe. ¬†Cars stop for the deer who wander across to the other side for more of whatever tastes best. ¬†I’ve heard you can give up on growing hostas. ¬†A mile in I see mom and the twins. ¬†They stand, watching me, chewing, as I slog past, talking to them. ¬†“There goes another one of them,” mom says to the kids, “crazynutjob runner, they’re safe. ¬†They’re crazy, but they’re safe.”

Each mile I stop for a moment and stretch my lower back and gauge.  Still hanging in there.  Still holding on.  I reach my turn-around and head back, looking at the beautiful trees, breathing the cool air deeply.  Hello, running, old friend.

Hello, back, running replies.

I’ve missed you.

But it’s not been too long this time, running reassures.

Yes.  I missed you but I knew you were there, waiting patiently.

I’ll be here always, as long as you stay strong.

I’m trying, running, I’m trying.

Will I learn this lesson, finally?  Or will I, type-A first born, headstrong and impatient, fail another test someday?

I hate to say so but I might.  And please God I will again stand up, brush myself off, and move forward again.  And again, and again.

Daylight Stupid Time

Well it’s a beautiful day here in wonderland, the sky brilliant blue, the wind blowing ten majillion leaves into the yard and since I don’t want to mess up my back I’m sadly unable to use the blower or the rake, darn it. ¬†Two squirrels built a nest in the fork of a tree right outside one of the upstairs windows so I keep trying to see if they will have babies. ¬†It seems a cold time of year to have babies but judging by the amount of leaves they’ve stuffed into that tree they should have an EnergyStar rating of about R5000 so I guess they will be fine. ¬†I expect them to try to have babies because they’ve put a hell of a lot time and effort into making those leaves that messy to show off to the other squirrels. ¬†They really are messy little animals. ¬†Instead of just getting the hickory nut they break off the tiny branch it’s on, the branch dropping to the ground, then scurry down the tree for the nut. ¬†Now we have both hickory nut shells and little branches all over in addition to the leaves. ¬†And if you step on one of those hickory nuts broken into pieces you will move immediately to the Soprano Section and I don’t care how big and bass you currently are, you’ll be tiptoeing like Tiny Tim.

If I get THAT damn song stuck in my head … it’s worse than Rhiana still stuck in the Hopeless Place after well over 24 hours. ¬†I will take Rhiana over Tiny Tim but that’s not saying a whole lot.

I went four miles today! ¬†And nearly 3 of them were jogging – I’d jog until I feel the form start to go and then walk recovery. ¬†Now I no longer feel quite so much like Chunker getting out of her carrier after seeing the vet. ¬†Speaking of Chunker, we’ve had a bit of a setback as I’ve found she’s been sneaking Mo’s food when she thinks I don’t see her, which in her mind, apparently, is any time she is not looking at me. ¬†Now you see me, now you don’t, chomp chomp!

So tomorrow is Daylight Stupid Time once again, in which the They people take away and give back our hour on a regular basis.

How about this: ¬†“The latest¬†Rasmussen Report from March 2013¬†found that only 37 percent of Americans surveyed thought daylight saving time (DST) is “worth the hassle,” while 45 percent said it was not.”

Tufts University professor Michael Downing, author of Spring Forward: The Annual Madness of Daylight Saving Time, said such opposition has been around for a century.

“The whole proposition that you can gain or lose an hour is at best theoretical,” he said. “I think from the start people had no clear idea what we were doing or why we were doing it. It just generates confusion, and confusion generates bad will.” ¬†(Quotes and info taken from this SITE)

Then we all slaver, YAY!  We get our hour back!  I get to sleep in!

You idiots. ¬†THEY TOOK THE FLIPPING HOUR AWAY LAST SPRING AND YOU DIDN’T GET TO SLEEP IN. ¬†(I’m yelling again, aren’t I?) You’re not GETTING anything. ¬†At best you are staying even. ¬†Last spring you didn’t sleep in and you were tired, tomorrow you sleep in and you’re not as tired. ¬†Fine. ¬†Try to save that up for next spring when again “they” take YOUR HOUR.

Or, if you don’t mind them jerking you on a string like a puppet, taking, giving, taking, giving …

OMG.  Wait, I think I have it.

The “they” people, taking, giving, jerking you around, keeping you confused, pulling a fast one on you?

(I think they must be teenagers.  Shhhh.)

Hunkering down with Chunker or how I learned I do, indeed, have two Brains

Chunker Munker and I have not had the best of weeks and it’s all my fault. ¬†She is very happy to agree with that and seems pleased to lay the blame squarely at my feet; she isn’t enjoying life to the fullest following a long overdue visit to the vet. ¬†Mo, the little sweetheart, sadly went along with the plan with a minimum of argument as I shoved the unwilling little things into their carrying cases and off we went. ¬†Quiet little Mo evidenced a new side when we got in the car and he became extremely verbal about the situation, even resisting the vet which surprised me. ¬†Chunk acted resigned until we got home.

I opened the carrier and she scrambled out like it was on fire. ¬†I opened Mo’s, he jumped out and headed toward Chunk to share misery.

The little witch turned on him, soundly smacking him in the head repeatedly while yowling and hissing. ¬†I yelled “CHUNKER!” and she turned on me, then poor Murphy crossed her path and she tried to smack him, arching, hissing, yowling. ¬†Dammit, girl. ¬†We gave her wide berth. ¬†She was pissed off all night and half the next day, jumping, hissing, howling every time someone moved. ¬†At first I thought it was because Mo and I smelled like the vet but by the next day and a change of clothing that seemed iffy.

I think she was insulted and embarrassed by the vet and taking it out on us.

I have to say, I would not be happy having my weight control issues discussed openly in front of my mom and an entire office full of staff people. ¬†It has seemed to me lately that she’s getting a bit … fluffier, but I ignored it.

Yeah, no kidding. ¬† She’s gained over 2 pounds since last year. ¬†That’s a 16% weight gain.

Ooops.  My bad.  Apparently feeding on demand is not going to remain an option.  We will not mention whether I feed my own self on demand or not.  Do as I say, not as I do has been a fine motto to live by.

I told the vet my unsuccessful attempts to get her to play and that I’m feeding them both indoor cat weight control food. ¬†He said that it’s possible her metabolism has gone into protect mode and is slowing down. ¬†Interesting thought. ¬†He told me about a new food that somehow increases metabolism and I bought a small bag. ¬†I trust the vet, I’ve known him for 20 years but I still felt a little bit like I’d just bought a vacuum cleaner at my front door.

I mixed the food half/half with their old food and started the new menu Friday evening.  Sunday evening Chunker walked up to me and started batting at my legs, skittering around.  Eh?  what are you doing, little girl?  She jumped around a bit more.  I pulled out a toy.  She started jumping to catch it, chasing it, crouching, attacking.

Well who are you and where is my kitty? ¬†It’s been a couple weeks now, I don’t think she’s lost any weight but she’s like a kitten again, chasing the laser light, running through the house with Mo, playing.

So I’m going to be doing some thinking on this metabolism idea; I know it will slow if enough calories are not consumed regularly.

Our bodies are designed to protect us, I know that.

In fact I got a really great lesson in that just this month.  Yay.  I always like learning new things.

I’m lying. ¬†I do not like learning new things. ¬†I like staying in my own little comfort zone doing the things I like to do. ¬†I want my life wrapped in my squishy soft blankie in my awesome plaid bell bottom fleece pants and Chocolate Glazed Donut in my coffee cup. ¬†I prefer being closed-minded and I want you all to shut up, most particularly the ones inside my head.

But, there you go. ¬†Catch 22. ¬†Which I read when I was in high school. ¬†I was home, sick, cuddled in bed (I did not own awesome plaid fleece bell bottoms at the time or I’d have been wearing them) and as sick as I was, reading that book I started laughing out loud. ¬†My mom came running down the hallway. ¬†“Are you OK!?” ¬†She apparently thought I was choking.

Maj. Major Major Major: Sergeant, from now on, I don’t want anyone to come in and see me while I’m in my office. Is that clear?

First Sgt. Towser: Yes, sir? What do I say to people who want to come in and see you while you’re gone?

Maj. Major Major Major: Tell them I’m in and ask them to wait.

First Sgt. Towser: For how long?

Maj. Major Major Major: Until I’ve left.

First Sgt. Towser: And then what do I do with them?

Maj. Major Major Major: I don’t care.

First Sgt. Towser: May I send people in to see you after you’ve left?

Maj. Major Major Major: Yes.

First Sgt. Towser: You won’t be here then, will you?

Maj. Major Major Major: No.

First Sgt. Towser: I see, sir. Will that be all?

Maj. Major Major Major: Also, Sergeant, I don’t want you coming in while I’m in my office asking me if there’s anything you can do for me. Is that clear?

First Sgt. Towser: Yes, sir. When should I come in your office and ask if there’s anything I can do for you?

Maj. Major Major Major: When I’m not there.

First Sgt. Towser: What do I do then?

Maj. Major Major Major: Whatever has to be done.

First Sgt. Towser: Yes, sir.

There are days right now that I feel a bit like Chunk when she jumped out of the carrier, I really feel like yowling howling and smacking random people crossing my path and I don’t want anyone let into my office until I’m not here. ¬†My back is on strike. ¬†This happened once four years ago and lasted for three months. ¬†I could not reach my feet to put on my shoes, my back in nearly constant spasm.

I went to see Dr. W. ¬†He walked in and I slowly stood. ¬†“What happened??” he asked.

“I’m not sure, but last time this happened it lasted three months,” I said, with a little catch in my voice. ¬†OMGod in Heaven, Little Baby Jesus in the hay with the cows DO NOT let me go through last year again.

“I’m not doing any steroids.” I announced.

“Oh, no – nope, this isn’t lasting three months and we’re not doing any steroids,” he intoned.

He sounded so serious that I actually believed him.

He did a little poking and prodding, a little stretching and showed me a small back extension/crunch I was to do 10 times as often as possible throughout the day, then hooked me up to the machine which is like something from Heaven, electrodes taped to my back shocking the sh*t out of the damn muscles and I hope they are sorry they ever started this.  Damn muscles.  I know I said that twice.  Damn muscles.

When everything was done I stood to leave and bounced down the hallway like I was drunk.  Why am I thinking of Florida?  Anyway, I was walking and my back was not screaming like a girl, damn wussy little back.  Waaa waa waa.

Over the past 2-1/2 weeks the visits have stretched from 2 days apart to a week. ¬†This week I was able to go three miles, jogging 2/10’s of a mile 9 times with a 1/10th mile walk between. ¬†Dr. W said things should return to normal quickly.

Apparently, however, phoning in the core workouts is no longer an option and I am newly committed to the stretches and core work – planks, side planks, glutes, hip flexors because what done did happen, as they say in the south, is I outran my core’s ability to function and when that happened Brain 2, the Idiot, shut the entire system down. ¬†Done, stupid Brain 2 said, and turned on the electricity. ¬†Meanwhile Brain 1 and I are arguing that everything is fine and would you please quit trying to be the boss??

It makes sense though. ¬†Metabolism compromised? ¬†Start protecting. ¬†Muscles being damaged? ¬†Start protecting. ¬†It is incredible to me that our minds actually take care of us when we think we’re the ones in charge. ¬†I’m running along thinking I’m in control of my body while, in fact, the very brain with which I’m thinking everything is copacetic is¬†doing something else against my wishes.

Yossarian: Ok, let me see if I’ve got this straight. In order to be grounded, I’ve got to be crazy. And I must be crazy to keep flying. But if I ask to be grounded, that means I’m not crazy anymore, and I have to keep flying.

Dr. ‘Doc’ Daneeka: You got it, that’s Catch-22.

(If you’d like to read more about how fatigue – overdoing it – leads to poor form and results in injury, check this out: ¬†

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