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 “training”

Perspective

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.)

However….

This is my friend’s son:

Cancer patient and avid golfer Kevin Bezon, 28, has grown too weak to stand, but he doesn’t 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’t want another surgery. His father said, “He’s almost at end-of-life care.”

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!

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♫This is the Blahg♬ that never ends♫♪

This is the Blahg that never ends.♬
It just goes on and on my friends.
Some people started reading it not knowing what it was,
And they’ll continue reading it forever just because . . .
This is the Blahg that never ends.♬
Yes, it goes on and on my friends.
Some people started reading it not knowing what it was,
And they’ll continue reading it forever just because . . .

GOOD MORNING!  HAPPY FRIDAY!  IT’S A BEAUTIFUL DAY IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD!

mr Rogers

I found this online, it’s a t-shirt, in case you’re feeling nostalgic.

4°F
FEELS LIKE 4°
Very cold.
(intones weather.com)

MR. ROGERS FLIPPING

And take that, weather.com.

(Before you have a heart attack, Mr. Rogers is playing “Where is Thumkin”.   This made my day even though it took several minutes to quit choking from laughter when I first saw it.  I love Mr. R, gentle soul.)

Anyway, I’m so happy, I can’t stand it.  Brain decided to make use of visiting rights and showed up for a while yesterday, struggling to make itself heard thought the 87 pounds of snot muffling everything in my head.  I’m sure it wasn’t easy for Brain.   I think of Indiana Jones fighting his way through many adventures.

indiana jones

“Don’t look at it. Shut your eyes, Marion. Don’t look at it, no matter what happens!”

Brain 1 frequently feels this way.  “OMG don’t look,” it thinks, watching me come up with yet another great idea, like going for a run in four degree weather, with only half of my lungs showing up for work today and the aforementioned snot.

“HEY, let’s have some more coffee!” Brain suggests to distract me, so off I trot to the Shrine, happily perusing my little stash, rubbing my hands together, chortling.

Chocolate Glazed Donut?  Creme Brulee?  Mocca Chocolata Ya Ya Creole Lady Marmalade?

mocha chocolatta

OK, you have to admit that’s pretty random and funny.

So instead of running outside I got to Killer’s early and did a couple miles on the treadmill (Mocca Chocolata Ya Ya Creole Lady Marmalade circling, stuck in Brain).  Then Killer lived up to her name, trying to kill me and my co-training crazy friend whom I shall refer to as … um, “Brenda”, who is looney enough to also enjoy working out with Killer.  “Brenda” was a bit put out when Killer informed us that I would not have to do the 2nd plank and would do some upper body instead.  I stuck my thumbs in my ears and waggled my fingers behind Killer’s back Nanner Nanner!  “Brenda” stuck her tongue out at me.  Killer showed me what I would be doing.  “Brenda” very childishly stuck her thumbs her ears and waggled her fingers.  “HA!  You thought the plank was tough!”

Brat.  Dammit.  And then Killer made me do another plank anyway.

Now I’ve had a lovely lunch, the sun is shining, we have a heat wave of 25 degrees (feel like temp 20) and weather.com did not have any additional comments at this time.

So – that’s it.  You just wasted 5 minutes you’ll never get back, perhaps four if you read fast.   GET BACK TO WORK.

This is the Blahg that never ends.♬
It just goes on and on my friends.
Some people started reading it not knowing what it was,
And they’ll continue reading it forever just because . . .
This is the Blahg that never ends.♬
Yes, it goes on and on my friend.
Some people started reading it not knowing what it was,
And they’ll continue reading it forever just because . . .

Discover New Blogs!

Liebster

I woke yesterday to a very nice surprise when Ashley at http://onedreamymess.wordpress.com/ nominated me for the LEIBSTER award!  Ashley lists coffee first in her list of likes, and also mentions she likes a little hot chocolate with her marshmallows, so you know immediately she is an intelligent person with extremely good taste.  So saying, WTH is the girl doing following my blog??

And, yet, she does, and apparently she has good meds.

JUST kidding … check her blog – tons of helpful hints about training, nutrition and healthy living!

Liebster award ~ this award is meant to generate attention for new or upcoming bloggers.

The rules are:

  • Acknowledge the nominating blogger
  • Answer 11 questions the nominating blogger has created for you
  • 11 random facts about yourself
  • List some bloggers with fewer than 200 followers that you really feel deserve a little blogging love!
  • Let all of the bloggers know you’ve nominated them. You cannot nominate the blogger that nominated you!
  • Post 11 questions for the bloggers you’ve nominated to answer.

Here are Ashley’s questions to me:

1.  What began your love for fitness & health?
I’ve been ‘running’ since my twenties because it seemed the right thing to do, stay healthy, burn a few calories; I would just set out on the street in front of my house and run through the neighborhood, no training, no fuel, no plans.  Ten or twelve years ago I got involved in a running group that helped me train for my first half marathon and then my first full.  I learned about warm up/cool down, pacing, fueling and felt like a “real” runner for the first time.  But my real love for running, fitness and most of all runners and the running community began when I luckily fell into my job as administrative secretary for Memphis Runner’s Track Club.  Interacting with all these awesome people has convinced me that healthy, fit people are happier people.  Or, crazy.

2.  What is my favorite workout?
Right now going for a run pain-free would be heaven.  I have been able run three times since November when I broke my foot, so I can’t complain.  I will probably run today, I just can’t decide to do it outside, with a ‘feel like’ temp of 11 degrees and the remains of a cold in my chest, or if I will hit the dreadmill.  Or just drink more coffee, which is sounding good right now.  I think my favorite workout is long training runs with friends.  18-20 miles running on the Greenway or out in the county on back roads, slow and easy, talking about everything, seeing the trees, old abandoned houses with green growing through the roof, counting road kill, trying to find a place for an emergency pit stop.  And then, days later, meeting for lunch and crying laughing as we recount the escapades to our friends while the rest of the diners watch us warily.

3.  What is my favorite indulgence for dessert?
Oddly as I get older my desire for sweets has waned.  But I’ll happily take you out if you bogart the crème brulee.

4.  If I won a trip to go anywhere, regardless of cost, where would it be?
The British Isles and Europe by rail, with a hike along the Pennine Way.  Definitely a big dream of mine!

5.  Favorite outdoor activity?
Other than running, sitting poolside with some friends and a very cold beer.

6.  If I could have lunch with any famous person alive or passed away who would it be?
Maybe Robin Williams except I’m sure I couldn’t keep up with him.  I’d probably have to skip eating food because the insane laughter would not aid digestion.  If it were anyone, famous or not, I would choose my brother.

7.  Go-to music genre for pump-up workout?
Classic Rock.  Queen, AC/DC, etc., and then throw in Pink.

8.  President for a whole year or Superman for one day?
Since I would not be President willingly for even a nanosecond, I guess it has to be Superman.  Can I pick Wonder Woman instead?

9.  Where do I shop for workout clothes?
Local running stores, sometimes online if I can’t find what I need.

10.  Morning person or night owl?
Morning person – but only after I have coffee in my hand.  Even the dog waits.

11.  If it were possible to travel through time, would I speed up to the future or flash back to the past?
Totally flash back.  I have a shitton of stuff I’d like to give myself a heads-up about.

Eleven Random Facts About Me:

1.  I was born in Winslow, Arizona.  Not on the corner, though.
2.  I have a runner girl tattoo.  I love her.
3.  I have a really hard time coming up with eleven random facts about myself.
4.  Because, mostly, everything about me is already all over FB and blogging.
5.  I have eleven toes.
6.  I was a complete, total, utter nerd in school.
7.  But not a smart nerd.  Just a nerd nerd.
8.  Somehow, at some time in my life, I was lucky enough to realize it really just doesn’t matter.
9.  Favorite indulgence food is … Taco Bell.  *hanging head* I know…
10.  I’ve hiked to the river and back at the Grand Canyon in a day, a couple times.
11.  One of these random facts is a lie.

My Nominations:

http://runswimbikediversify.wordpress.com/  Becky, a comrade in arms, a certifiable #crazynutjobrunner, is also a triathlete who has already completed a Half Ironman and is now training for her second because she just can’t get enough of the RDA of crazy.

http://elingsjourney.blogspot.com/  Eling, like Becky, is another one who can’t get enough and is not ‘just’ a runner but a triathlete.  Like Becky and Julianne she is on a continuing journey toward fitness and if you need a bit of motivation she’s one to turn to!

http://middleagedwomanontherun.com/ Julianne is not a true newbie, she’s been around for a bit but I’m adding her as she is still striving to do her first full since St. Jude was cancelled this past December.  Are you struggling?  Need a lift?  Check her out!

http://chocolatemedals.com/ Ashley is a runner on a great healthy journey, newlywed and living in Colorado.  Through her I can live vicariously in Colorado and see awesome pics of food that I drool over.

http://smallislandrunner.wordpress.com/ I don’t know how I got lucky enough to stumble across this blog, or maybe she found mine first (too bad for her but a stroke of luck for me), but this blog is a BLAST – Ella is a novice runner who is living in Jersey (and I don’t mean New Jersey) for a year.  I am vicariously living on this beautiful little island through her as she works toward her goal of running every road on the isle.

Nominees – here are your questions:

1. Why did you decide to start blogging?
2. If you could run any race in the world without worrying about cost, which would you choose?
3.  How did you get started running (or your fitness choice)?
4.  What is the funniest/weirdest thing you’ve seen/had happen on a run?
5.  Favorite post-workout indulgence?
6.  Music or purist, and if music, what’s your favorite?
7.  Dreadmill or 25 degrees/10 degree feel-like temp?  Dreadmill or 98 degrees and 98% humidity?
8.  Go-to Mantra when it gets tough?
9.  Morning or evening workout and why?
10.  Best pre-run/workout fuel?
11.  Favorite cross-training?

Blahging

Weather.com and DirecTV got divorced, did you know?  If you ever visit weather.com you’d know, it’s still whining about it like a 16-year-old getting dumped for the first time (not to negate that experience, it feels like your heart got torn out sans meds) but it’s a TV STATION doing BUSINESS, not a teenage girl.  But, then, and as you know, I don’t like weather.com.

Well, Terri, you continue to visit weather.com, don’t you?

Why, yes, I do.  And I’m irritated every single time.  Partly because it’s still the best site I can find for quick weather info.  Details, go to NOAA.gov, but a quick and dirty look, it’s still the fall back.  Plus, just when I’m about to try dating someone else – again – weather.com hits my funny bone which is a quick way to my heart.  This morning w.c announces dryly:

16°F
FEELS LIKE 16°
Much colder than yesterday.

HAHAHAHA!  No kidding?  OK then, I didn’t know.  Sixteen is more than 28, at least in weather world.

you know it's cold.

I told you so

Since I’m still feeling rather blah and it appears my batteries are mostly run out I’m not planning to run today.  I’m not sad that I can’t run in this cold, since it’s much colder than yesterday but it does bug me I’m losing bragging rights.  Yeah, I ran when it was 16, no big.  I’m tough, that’s how I roll.  I ran it in shorts and a jog bra.  Barefoot.  Because that’s how I roll, too.

I’m lying.

No one is ever going to see me running in just shorts and a jog bra.  If the house is on fire I will wait inside.  No, really, I’m fine, thank you Mr. Fireman, can I borrow your shirt?

Nope, the Cold from Hell lingers like a creepy ex-boyfriend determined that deep in my heart I really do want him to take me to Prom.  Yes, you’re taking my breath away but not quite the way you’re hoping.

This morning I saw Lucia, who does Structural Integration.  She is even tinier than Killer, which should be impossible for an adult but there you go, and she’s just as nice as Killer too.  You wouldn’t think about 100 pounds of female could do much damage but she’s like a Ninja trained in all the secret spots that will take you DOWN.  Last week was very interesting.  I had some muscles that were being stubborn (where the hell they got that from, I don’t know) and about half way through she said, “you may need to take nap today.”

OK.  That’s sort of like a doctor’s order, right?  I’m going to have to take a nap today.  I was instructed to.  It’s legal.  Nanner nanner.

Turns out it wasn’t optional.  I got home and thought I was getting the flu even though I actually got the flu shot this year.

I’m kidding.  I get the shot every year.

(No I don’t, I just put that there in case Hubs ever reads my blog.)  (He asks me about 13 times every fall did I get a flu shot.)  (It’s really sweet of him, too.)

(Words in parentheses are invisible, right?)

I didn’t feel so good.  Next thing I knew, I was on the bed in a t-shirt, sweat-shirt, bathrobe and sweatpants, shivering like Murphy at the vet’s.  Good thing the house didn’t decide to combust because I was going nowhere quickly.  My legs were like Jello at a Mississippi picnic in July.

An hour or so later when I was able to stand (albeit shakily) I chugged about 72 ounces of water while swallowing down one or two of every vitamin I could find in the house.  Then I looked up Toxins.  Wow, you do learn something new every day.  And now I understand why we are so very sore the day after a marathon or intense training.  Fascinating.

Today I asked Lucia if that had anything to do with Beelzebub coming to torment me; she thought probably so.  She worked me over like a pro boxer again and sent me home, taller and straighter.  She said she did not release any demons today.  So far I’m feeling good.  I’m even tempted to go for a little run.

Or a nap.

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.

WHERE have you BEEN??

Ah, wait.  That’s me that’s been missing.

Sorry there, Boy and Girl, deepest heartfelt apologies and all that blather.  Kinda lost focus and direction for a while.

Wait.  Let’s look at this another way.  I refocused and recommitted.  Rather than New Year “Resolutions” I prefer the term New Year “Recommitments”.  Like many, as the year wanes I look back:  what I hoped to achieve, how I went about it, were the goals met?  If so, how?  If not, why?

I started 2013 the same way I am starting 2014 – injured.  My goals for the year were a marathon and a 50K, working up to 58K spring 2014.  Hubs wisely refrained from arguing with a brick wall and said nothing of the loftiness of those goals in view of the fact I’d run about three times in the past three months.

The goal should probably have been to get healthy, but I didn’t know how since I didn’t know what was wrong, I only knew pain.  And I was trying to get better, I just didn’t know how.  BRFF “Becky” found Dr. W who was a huge help on the journey, and I kept moving in the right direction, albeit with a few side jaunts.  As I repeatedly discover, you do learn something new nearly every day.  It may only be that you were wrong again, but, heck – learned, right?  A year later I know that it was not a matter of doing things wrong, it was a matter of time for things to come together.  I’m very hopeful that what I’ve learned and the places and people I’ve been led to are a solid part of the solution.  That, and a bit more time.  Thank God I’m at peace, for today, at taking a bit more time.

Two days ago I ran a total of 25 minutes easy, with walk breaks and adding 5 minute walking w/u c/d for a total of 35 minutes/3 miles – the first time I’d run outside exactly 10 weeks.  I’d done a mile or two on the treadmill a couple times earlier in the week.  I figured that was safest, if anything happened I wouldn’t be half a mile from home.  Well, actually I would, I’d be further – at the Center – but I’d have the car, right?  I can hop to the car.  I’d look like an idiot, of course.

“Oh, look at that lady hoping down the hallway on one foot.”

“Well, Madge, maybe it’s a new fitness routine.  Let’s check the schedule.”

“I don’t think we should, Maude, the ‘girls’ would be flopping mightily.”

“True, Madge, true.  We could get a concussion.”

So, I ran.  It was glorious.  Bright shiny day, cold, breezy, I ran my favorite route looking at the skeletal trees, leaves thick on the ground, the drainage stream crisply frozen on the edges.  Running slowly I looked up at the beautifully twisted bare branches making sculpture against the bright sky, sharp curling grey-ish shapes against the dazzling blue.  This is really why I do it.  All those horrible hot days, the runs that feel like I’m slogging through mud, the days I feel like my head and body are not even connected, there is no communication, legs or lungs go on strike singly or in unison, those days are for this day, completely aware of life surrounding me, enveloping me, fully alive in this living breathing world.

Suspicious Minds

Well, Boy and Girl, this is my 200th post.  You’ve both been very faithful supporters.  You repeatedly encouraged me to blog; when I did you were my first two followers, and I thank you.  Everyone else wishes you’d kept your mouths shut and I will not use your real names to protect you, but thank you both, “Hermione” and “Sylvester”.  Somehow 712 people have chosen to follow this nannering, wandering blog, I thank you all also and sincerely apologize for all the lost hours and brain cells.

Things that did not happen yesterday:

1.  The tree is still not decorated although it’s fluffed and has a few shiny things hanging on it.  This time it’s because I can’t decide the best way to keep the cats from declaring it their new home and then redecorating it to suit their tastes, which is all the balls knocked off onto the floor.  I don’t like that look.  It’s…crunchy.  The vacuum doesn’t like it either, apparently and to my regret.

2.  My foot was not miraculously healed.  This made my very devout mother sad.  You’d think after all these years she would give up, but, no.  She’s absolutely convinced that at some point she is going to pray someone out of something.  Who knows?  She very well may have already, because I figure if she did then we would not know because they would have gotten prayed out of it.  My question is, what does God do up there, have a stopwatch and an excel spreadsheet?  “Okay, then, Sally beat Janie by .37 second on the praying for rain/praying for no rain, toughski shitzki, Janie, it’s going to rain on your wedding.  Pray faster next time, and also I will put you in the lose column and you’ll get a 3 second advantage on the next prayer.”

If either of you two faithful followers are still following after reading that blasphemy you should probably at least climb under your desk to continue.

This means that Dr. Awesome v.2 made my mom sad.  I should have pointed this out to him, but I expect he would still not have changed his mind.

In fact, I did sort of point it out.  I told him that he had not read the script correctly; his line was supposed to be, “WOW.  I made a mistake.  Your foot is not broken at all, I’m SO sorry.”

I would have been the bigger person here, too, and I would not have gotten upset.  I would be all magnanimous and wave my hand slightly – “oh it’s nothing, I’m sure it happens.”

But, no.  No healing.  Four more weeks and see him again.  And you know what?  I suspect that he is a very suspicious man.  He doesn’t seem to trust me and I have no idea why.  Rather like Hubs thinking I would not wear the boot.  Cynical, even.

Would this conversation make you suspicious that someone was suspicious about you?

Dr. A v.2:  “See me in four more weeks.  Call me in two weeks.”

Me: “Um, OK, why?”

Dr. A v.2:  “So I can talk you down.”

Me:  (Innocent) “What?  You don’t trust me?”

Dr. A v.2:  “You’re a runner.  I know what you will be thinking two weeks from now when your foot doesn’t hurt so much anymore.  Call me and I’ll talk you down.”

Me:  *Sigh*  *dammit*

Getting the boot.

I abhor Velcro.  Velcro is in collusion with this damnable boot to drive me over the edge, clinging fearfully to the wrong side of the boot, grip of iron, it won’t let go “NO NO! you can’t make me!” as I desperately attempt to get even a fingernail slipped between the clinging Velcro and the boot.  I try folding it neatly back upon itself so when I put the boot back on I can just unfold it and tighten.  No.  The moment I turn my back all the Velcro straps flop open and take turns sticking to each other and the other side of the boot.  Nanner Nanner Nanner they say, passive-aggressive payback because they know – they KNOW, they are SENTIENT and they know that I secretly hate the boot and, thus, I hate them.

THEY started it.  Both boot and Velcro black as night, I can’t see the end of the Velcro strip hiding like cowardly Velcro chameleons behind the boot, my foot held captive as I stretch to the left and to the right trying to peer at the back of the boot.  Oh, I know what you are thinking, there, all smug in your shoes.  You’re thinking, just take the boot off, straighten the straps and put the boot back on.

I can’t!  They KNOW!  I tried!  I took it off, I pulled the Velcro nice and straight and slid my foot gently into the boot not to disturb them.  Distracted trying to keep my jeans from bunching into a baseball-sized-knot rubbing a sore on my ankle, I looked away for just one second – just one! and they turned into super-glued velcro spaghetti.

I am an adult.  I am stymied by a strip of fabric.

Even better, today when I finally got the boot on – and Boot needs a name, by the way, so we are having a naming contest, winner gets 47 majillion points so post your nominee to the FB post linked when I publish – I got to wrap it in garbage bags and duct tape it shut so I could wander around the RRS half marathon all morning in the rain.  I bought a rain suit at Bass Pro Shops.  It was a size medium.  I failed to realize that many of the Bass Pro Shop customers are hulking males who can heft big guns and large dead animals.  The result was me hobbling around in a garbage wrapped boot (which probably further angered the Velcro, I’m sure they all felt I was dissing them) in rain suit pants which reached from just below my armpits to about 5″ past my heel; rain coat hanging halfway to my knees and to the tips of my fingers:  lurch-thud, lurch-thud, lurch-thud.

And I’ve been nice to Boot.  I even decorated it yesterday.  It’s not Boot’s fault that I hate it, I’m trying to be fair here but if Boot and Velcro continue with this attitude things could go bad fast.  Which is a hollow threat because they both know I have no control in the situation.  *Sigh*

boot

Today one of my BRFF’s, “Lisa” brought me some awesome little foot/toesies covers to wear so my toes don’t get cold.  Her sister “Robin” (which may or may not be their real names, identities obscured at random to protect the innocent who never asked to be publicly associated with me) was in a boot (sadly) but (happily) she loves to knit and made the little Toesies.  One is a kitty, so guess which one I chose to wear first?  And you are both lucky I’d already put it on because while I love you both, faithful lonely followers of my World Famous Blog, I don’t love you enough to return to battle with the Velcro.

toesie

Isn’t it cute?  I will love him and squeeze him and call him George.  The Toesie, I mean.

Despite the travails of the Velcro War and lurching about like a man-made monster we did have fun today, in the rain, working the race.  The MRTC runners are AWESOME and we love them, crazynutjobrunners currently under- or un-medicated but we won’t tell.  After the race started another BRFF, whom I shall call Sara, and I drove the course, hubs in the backseat, doing the driving himself which I have no idea where he got that from, “watch out for that car!”  “watch out for that runner!” and how he saw them, nose deep in the newspaper in the backseat, I have no clue but should not be surprised because he did the same thing with the kids. Didn’t have to even look up.  DO NOT PUSH YOUR BROTHER DOWN THE STAIRS, he would state, calmly, in his booming voice.

We honked and beeped and waved at the runners, sometimes when the rain was not pelting sideways at one side of the car we’d open a window and shout at them.

GO RUNNERS!  YOU LOOK GREAT!  YOU CAN DO THIS!

They would wave back, rain dripping off their faces, miserable, whipped by 20-30mph winds with gusts.  They definitely earned their stripes today.

At the turn around we waited for Sara’s Doug which she says sort of like  ♬♪Doug♪♬ all syrupy so we almost got diabetes.  She jumped out into the pouring rain and waited for him, giving him a kiss and hopping back in the car.  Still staring at the paper hubs muttered, Terri wouldn’t jump out in the pouring rain to kiss me.

Well of course I wouldn’t.  My leg is currently firmly stuck to the fabric of my car seat by an angry rogue strip of !#&!’ing VELCRO.

Just a little flesh wound.

You can make dinner while standing on one foot but I would not recommend you do so while stirring the popping spaghetti sauce, ouch.

But it’s OK, just a little flesh wound.

Seriously, just a little pop of boiling spaghetti sauce on my arm, I’d rate it point-zero-one on a 1-10 scale.  I had a conversation with a friend one time, discussing another friend with terminal cancer whose stated pain level was 9 or 10.  We considered for a while.  How bad can 10 feel?  We all know 11 is one louder, however the pain scale only goes to 10 so it took a while for us to develop a new pain scale:

1 – my head hurts

2 – my head hurts like a little man inside is pounding it with a little hammer

3 – I’d like to get that little man out of my head and kick his a$$

4 – the little man in my head is using a jackhammer

5 – the little man in my head has a friend helping him

6 – the little man in my head and his friend are close to breaking through

7 – the little man in my head and his friend have broken through my skull and are now dancing in my eyeballs in celebration

8 – the little man in my head and his friend who broke through and did the celebration dance are now stabbing my eyeballs

9 – the little man in my head and his friend who broke through, danced and then stabbed my eyeballs just set my hair on fire …

10. … and … now they just tore my arms off.

Lately I have had ample opportunity to answer the question “Please rate your pain on a scale of one to ten.”  It’s a conundrum.  My ten could be your 20.  Or it could be your 3.  Maybe pain scales should note that a 10 means someone just sliced off both your arms but if you consider it just a flesh wound please choose 2. I ponder what number to choose on my current pain level.

I had my first two children sans medication.  It was the thing to do for some reason.  Don’t take an aspirin, just breathe deeply, you can do this.  So, I did.  I was alone in a room, waiting for something to happen, four weeks early with my girl child.  The woman in the room next to me screamed.  OMGOD HELP  HELP ME SOMEONE HELP MAKE IT STOP.  I was fairly sure someone was actually in the room with her who could help and it appeared they were either refusing or she’d made them promise to do nothing no matter how she begged.

Let me out. Let me out of here. Get me the hell out of here. What’s the matter with you people? I was joking! Don’t you know a joke when you hear one? HA-HA-HA-HA. (*@#$$, get me out of here! Open this $%&%# door or I’ll kick your rotten heads in! Mommy!

Hour after hour I was there, alone, with a couple of Home & Garden magazines to peruse which, by the way and to this day, I hate.  As I repeatedly gazed at gardens that would never grace my home I promised myself – if there was one thing in my life I was going to make sure would happen it was this:  I was not going to make a sound whenever girl child decided to appear.  Tear my nails out, I don’t care, I am not going to make noises that can be heard through walls by unsuspecting, lonely and frightened people.

So – I’ve had levels of pain but pain is complicated by duration, exacerbated by sudden stabbings or electricity jolting through muscles and who knows how much pain it really was, it’s different for everyone.  I’m gratefully past all that, again, and want to remain that way.  I will continue to strive to finally, totally defeat the current issue. Which brings me to stirring boiling spaghetti sauce while balancing on one foot.

Dr. W, as you both know, has been fantastic help since the first of the year and will remain forever my hero since my back did not spasm for three months as it did a few years ago – even without Butt Falling Off Syndrome that alone is enough to put him on the top shelf with all the really big trophies.  Yesterday I tried something new –  Structural Integration – and … just … wow.  I hurt this morning, but it’s a good hurt, ach-y in my neck and shoulders and oddly (because I never do so) I find myself stretching as I walk to the Shrine Of Keurig or sit at my desk, rolling my shoulders and head, and it feels good, looser.

I suppose most people who show up bruised and battered at Lucia’s office are pretty dorked up, I know that she didn’t seem to see much of me that wasn’t torqued one direction or the other.  She started from the bottom up and the first thing she asked me was if I’d badly sprained my ankle at some time in my life.  Yes, indeed I did, 6 months pregnant with the twins I fell stepping into the garage, the Goodyear Blimp of motherhood, landing awkwardly.  The ER doctor said I’d have been better off if it had broken and indeed, it hurt for most of a year if I moved wrong.  Side note:  a fat pregnant woman hopping through the house and office on one foot is pathetic and frightens innocent bystanders who fear the hopping could jolt loose a child.  It didn’t.

She rotated my left foot, then my right and suddenly I realized that my left foot seems to be attached very loosely by about 2 worn out rubber bands, flopping slightly as I stride, the right foot landing firmly while the left foot rolls to the outside before deciding to embrace earth.  Who knew?  Apparently just because the brains and I live in this body does not mean anyone is actually taking charge at the helm, and also apparently my left foot has been flopping about for 25 years refusing to carry its load, thank you foot, I’ll remember that at Christmas, coal in the stocking for you.  In the meantime we will be spending a lot of time, you and me, standing on you without the assistance of right foot.  But no longer will we do so in front of a roiling saucepan.

When I see them Dr. W and Lucia give me instructions, which I then carry carefully to Killer, who assists me in planking and squatting and lunging and monster-walking because in addition to no one firmly at the helm I’m also irresponsible and do not self-motivate properly.  Yes, yes, I nod, slavering happily, yessir, Dr. W, yes ma’am Lucia I’ll plank, I will balance on the BOSU ball, yep yep I skip about in their offices like a puppy but already Brain has seen a chicken and run off after it.

So I thank you, Dr. W, and Lucia, and Killer, and all of you in service industries who help people who are hurting, sick, in need.  I only have aches and pains, I do not have terminal cancer but I did watch my father die day-by-day for a year and I know who the caregivers are – givers because they care.  You are all very special people and I thank you all for making this world a better place while I sit at the computer answering emails and hanging around my watercooler named Facebook, posting pictures of cute kittens, unicorns and zombies.  You rock.

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.)

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