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 “plantar fasciitis”

Breathing underwater.

My new BRDr.FF, Dr. L, slammed my falling off butt with another steroid shot Thursday in the SI joint.  She said give it a bit and take it out for a shake down run, she wants to see what happens.  Since it continued to hurt and actually felt worse after the injection I waited.  Friday as the day progressed I was surprised to find that sitting wasn’t hurting near as much, and I decided to try a run this morning.

I felt like I was in high school again and after waiting nervously for weeks, the boy I secretly liked had just asked me to prom.  I carefully charged up my Garmin, located the HR monitor, got my inserts back in my running shoes.  I opened the drawer I’d just recently and reluctantly tucked my running stuff into, thinking I wouldn’t be seeing them again for a while, and happily dug out shorts and shirt.

It certainly did not hurt a bit that it’s a gorgeous fall day, brilliant blue sky, green, gold, russet leaves drifting in a breeze, birds chirping, cheeping, and flitting through the trees.

Spring, 2011 we moved into this house.  I had not been running consistently due in part to the plantar fasciitis but mostly due to the incredible busy-ness of renovating a house, keeping up a house we were trying to sell, and then moving.  Stir in a few emergency trips to my parents…it was a crazy time.

My usual route leaves my house and across the busy street at the end of our block.  There’s a lovely upscale neighborhood about 1/2 mile away with a lazy winding road running through it.  The developers wisely kept all the old growth; houses sit back from the road and 30′-40′ trees line the narrow road, natural undergrowth left in place.  It’s like running through the country although I can vaguely hear the semi’s on I-40 a 1/2 mile away.  I like the sound of trucks on a freeway, the thought of where they’ve been and where they’re going, zooming along in their little contained worlds.

Last spring when I started back running I ran this road consistently, reveling in the beauty of these beautiful trees leafing out, the birds serenading each other and wooing, daffodils and crocus popping up through a layer of leaves.  Today I ran that same route, watching the swirling helicopter seeds float past me, squirrels rushing to the trees for more hickory nuts.  It’s not uncommon to see deer here, usually does with their young ones in the spring, with their tweens and teens later on.  I didn’t see any today but last time I ran I saw three young buck, antlers just fuzzy bumps, young enough they could still be friends.  They stood back, but didn’t run.

I have friends who are former runners (committed runners, people who did well under 3 hour marathon PR’s in their younger days) now walking stiffly with worn hips and knees (and – not from running, but genes).  They ride like crazy now, and we’ve discussed before my opinion of that as a substitute for running.  At this time, and I’m trying to keep an open mind, biking as a substitute for running is like getting a turkey sandwich with an apple for dessert while sitting next to someone with a steak and sweet potato fries and a huge hot fudge sundae for dessert.  It’s a moot point, I can’t bike anyway, it makes my toes go numb from the pressure on my back as I lean over the bars.

If I rode like this it would be OK:

Gotta find me one of these.  Since I frequently match her cranky attitude, however, I might find myself cackling as I biked.

As I grow older there are many things I want to begin cutting out of my life, but activity is not one of them.  I do not want to be that person who cannot carry two bags of grocery to a car.  I will do all I can not to lose that.

I want to get rid of the worrying, catastrophizing (my counselor made that word up, it’s a great word) OMG this is the worst that could happen, that is horrid, what if, how can we, who will…impatience – that car is in my way, when is the paper getting delivered, my K-cups pouring forth nectar within 30 seconds.  I want to slow down.  I want to look around.  I want to feel this day and live it, not wait it out, which I have done too many times.

When I run I am using the body I was given.  I am making muscles what they were formed to be.  I have life flowing through me and I am alive to the world.  I feel that in some way I am doing honor to the honor I was given:  life.

I love the act of running.  Looking down watching my feet blur on the street.  Hearing my breathing.  Street level, looking at the world go by on my own power; open to the world on this little private journey, burning some endorphins.  I’m alive in that moment, for just a moment existing in that present.  Yes, of course, most of the run still has a running conversation of when, how, next, then – but the hum is quieter and running further in the background.

There are so many things we no longer do for ourselves.  When my daughter was born I used cloth diapers.  The first few months I didn’t have a dryer and I hung them to dry in the Arizona sun.  I made her food.  The grocery was about a mile away, if I only needed a few things I put her in the stroller and walked to get milk and things.  I washed the dishes.  We had a swamp cooler but no A/C.  On Saturday she’d play in the hose while I’d wash the car and let her play with the bubbles.

Now I order Christmas online, getting most of it done on Black Friday as I sit in my climate controlled office in order to avoid the traffic.  I drive everywhere, the washer and dryer left spinning and the dishwasher chugging away at home as I run my car through the car wash after I buy gas.  I’ve got a sack full of microwavable veggies and pre-formed hamburgers, automatic bowl flush cleaner tabs.  Hubs’ 100% cotton button downs go to the cleaner.  I haven’t ironed in so long that while typing this I had to stop and think where the iron might be.

I’ve recently discovered a poem that has grabbed hold of me, circling in my brain, landing for consideration then lifting up and swirling back into my thoughts as it floats about lighting little dark corners of my day.  I have too often and for too long held my breath and dug my toes into the sand, determined to stand still and maintain a moment, a place or an event. I stand, clinging, to imagined wrongs, to imaged rights, to how I think things should be.

I want to learn to tumble through life embracing it all, living in the coral castle, learning to breathe underwater.  When I run, I feel I am.


Breathing Underwater

I built my house by the sea.
Not on the sands, mind you;
not on the shifting sand.
And I built it of rock.

A strong house
by a strong sea.
And we got well acquainted, the sea and I.
Good neighbors.
Not that we spoke much.
We met in silences.
Respectful, keeping our distance,
but looking our thoughts across the fence of sand.
Always, the fence of sand our barrier,
always, the sand between.

And then one day,
-and I still don’t know how it happened –
the sea came.
Without warning.

Without welcome, even
Not sudden and swift, but a shifting across the sand like wine,
less like the flow of water than the flow of blood.
Slow, but coming.
Slow, but flowing like an open wound.
And I thought of flight and I thought of drowning and I thought of death.
And while I thought the sea crept higher, till it reached my door.
And I knew, then, there was neither flight, nor death, nor drowning.
That when the sea comes calling, you stop being neighbors,
Well acquainted, friendly-at-a-distance neighbors,
And you give your house for a coral castle,
And you learn to breathe underwater.

Sr. Carol Bieleck, RSCJ
from an unpublished work

Exercise and the Exorcist – Part 3

Yesterday was a BEAUUUUTIFUL DAYayayayay!  (background tunes for your listening pleasure:

I woke:

The sun is shining! ♫ ♪ ♫

Birds are singing! ♫ ♫ ♪

Pretty trees are reflected in the sparkling lake!  ♫♪♫ ♪ ♫

And I’m GO-O-O-ING FOR A RU-U-U-U-N ♫ ♪ ♫♪♫

Which is a massive 360 from how I’ve felt for the past couple weeks.  After the CD Smith fiasco when Butt Falling Off Syndrome reared it’s ugly head at 9 miles (hahaha reared, get it?) I limped the last 3.5 to the car, bagging the 16 mile run at 12.5 and very happy to do so, although I do sincerely thank Doug and Sara for all their honking support.

But (haha – oh, nevermind) somewhere near the end, as I ran with nothing in my head but a vision of the car and the mantra *don’t quit* *don’t quit*, these words suddenly swam past my eyes like a Crab Shack banner behind a plane at the beach:


Over 500.

Email Kelly:  I have over 500 miles on these shoes.  You think, a clue?

Immediate reply:  YES.  (ok, thanks)  GO BUY SHOES.  (yes, Ma’am)  SEE ME THURSDAY AT 3pm (sh*t)

I can’t actually tell you what type of child I was.  I think I was a tentative, insecure and rather shy thing but there’s no telling, there are only my memories and my mother’s; like all mothers, she’s biased.  Probably I did actually hang the moon.  And – while I know that both of the faithful followers of my World Famous Blog will not believe this – I was a child who followed the rules.  Rules existed to keep you intact.  Outside the rules:  Scary Mordor-like place.  Go outside the rules and Miss Morgan will put you in the corner during story time and all the other kids will turn in their seats watching you walk to the corner in disgrace.

For example, here’s a fairly standard running rule:  Turn your shoes over every 250-300 miles.  If you’re a younger person or you have the top 10% of perfect feet which God passed out you can go further and/or you can wear minimalist shoes, and also I hate you.  However, if you are an older female with fascist plantars living in your feet and very high arches you will probably need a bit more support.  Additionally – how fair is this? – the only place your body loses weight as you age is your metatarsal pad, thank you so not.  The one place you need more cushioning, buh-bye.

Follow the rules.  If you don’t buy new shoes:

I now have shining new shoes with the purchase date written large on the heel in black Sharpie.

Thursday Kelly announced the good news:  my butt was no longer on sideways.  The bad news:  I was more sore in more places.  I was not allowed to run Friday; if I felt like it I could plod a couple miles Saturday.  I did not feel like it.  This time, despite the exorcism and new shoes, there was no bounce, no spring in my legs.  Sunday’s long run of 18 miles was a heavy legged pain fest which was put out of my misery when I bagged at 16.

I’d done my run along the streets while the Finish Line Crew was working an off-road race and met up with them afterward for dinner at El Patron, a little gem of Mexican food heaven.  It was a bit tough for Beverly and Mike, sitting on either side of me in the booth, as my leg constantly twitched and I stretched, wiggled and squirmed like a two year old high on birthday cake, trying to calm it.  Beverly looked at me.  “You need to be taking potassium and magnesium.”

|: Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! |:

As a runner I sweat a lot.  Really – a lot.  Like, in the summer on long runs at the end I’m leaving wet footprints.  I’m careful to carry ECaps and drink Gatorade and take gels.  I forgot that in the winter I sweat too, which is why it took me five minutes to get my (sweaty wet) tights (glued to my thighs) off Sunday, as I hopped on one foot in the portajohn at the race site, trying to get changed.  (God only knows what the people outside the thing thought of the bumping and groaning going on inside a 3′ square PJ.) (Mommy, do you think someone needs help?) (NO.) (But someone could be hurt.  They sound awful) (NO!  Let’s go, Honey.  We can eat some cookies that are only meant for the runners, come on.)

Twitching and jerking, I drove immediately to Walgreens where I purchased the large sized magnesium and potassium and have been downing them like M&M’s since.

Everyday my legs feel better.

Follow the rules.  Don’t fuel properly and you’ll go down in flames.

Post Navigation

In my own words

Noli timere

The Science of Sport

Scientific comment and analysis of sports and sporting performance

It's A Marathon AND A Sprint

And a 10K and a 200 Mile Bike Ride and an Obstacle Race and Anything Else We Find!

The Paper Kind

Creative living.

Running On Healthy

Living Life Healthy, Fit, and Happy

Ash Rae Eining Yoga

Diving into the wonderful world of Yoga, Peace, & Wellness.


Just. Take. Another. Step.

Be Happy, Be Kind & Be Loving

A great site

Pages and Stories

Reflections on Writing, Traveling, and Food

Morning Story and Dilbert

Inspiring, Encouraging, Healthy / Why waste the best stories of the World, pour a cup of your favorite beverage and let your worries drift away…

Living the Life

Staying spirited (while attending college): happy thoughts on the happiest time of your life

Trek Ontario

Hike | Camp | Canoe | Snowshoe | Geocache | ...

Chocolate Covered Race Medals

Where I race to the chocolate bar

Exchanging Words

Everything about Anything

Wake up and Live!

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.

Marc Hemingway

Trying to keep track of my life (and my life on track)

Midwest Sweet Tea

A movement towards balance and self-discovery.

pipe down piper

I'm tired and I'm hungry.

Looking to God

Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness. (Matthew 6:33)

Fatness to Fitness

Practical strategies for making a lifestyle change.

Run5kaday's Blog

Daily distance running adrenaline!

hungry and fit

A young couple focused on great workouts and feasting well -- all on a low budget!

Top 10 of Anything and Everything - The Fun Top Ten Blog

Animals, Gift Ideas, Travel, Books, Recycling Ideas and Many, Many More

Mountains to Mats

The Modern Art of Muay Ski-Jitsu...

Philly Tales and Trails

Running adventures through the City of Brotherly Love

Spread Positive Vibes. Give Love. Be Happy.


awe, humility, hope and a few other things I might notice


A great site

Hollis Plample

draws comics

borscht and babushkas

mostly adventures from peace corps ukraine

The Better Man Project ™

△ empowering people with the ideas, tools and resources they need to thrive △


Just another site

The Fit Wanderer.

forever wandering

Jello Legs

My love hate struggle with running

Bucket List Publications

Indulge- Travel, Adventure, & New Experiences


Passions For Books, Writing and Music-however it manifests itself

Sure you can run that far, but why?

The story of my first half-marathon


The work and activities of a writer/bargee


Follow me as I go from beginning trail runner to ultra marathoner! Dreaming of running a 100 miler ...