ok, G, I am the greater

or at least my blog is

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

ass (4x) hell (3x) shit (2x) shoot (1x)

all f*ckd up in the IT department

Today I learned a little lesson about IT bands. No, these are not music groups comprised of little technogeeks in full Trekkie gear. An IT band is the little band of muscle and tissue that connects your knee to your ass or something like that.

So I'm running along for 6 miles feeling great. I'm not winded or tired. It's awesome. Then I get this little grumbly pain in my hip like my hip muscle just tied up in a damn knot. I stop and stretch bc I can tell it's my IT band. A coach stops and tells me to buy a roller on the internet and roll myself on it at home. I'm picturing stopping at the home depot and picking up a paint roller, but I'm not sure if that's what she's talking about. She says not to worry and that I can run through it, so I do. 3 more miles of running through it.

Now I'm walking like a damn invalid, and I feel like a little gnome is inside my hip with a blow torch, giggling madly while he scorches my muscles. The email I got 2 weeks ago warning me about this says it's ITBS. ITBS to me was this cool little test we had to take every other year in school that had easy vocab and this great section where you had to imagine folding paper and figuring out where the hole punches would go. It was much less painful than this. I have to think that part of the problem [since the issue is only on one leg] was running on this wacked ass embankment that was all slanted. On the way back, I wised up and ran in the street.

So what does this mean for the crankster? I got the full spa treatment today, the one reserved for those who thrive on masochism--my first ice bath [that was brutal], rigorous stretching of my body into positions that they really shouldn't attempt, and probably the most intense and painful massage session I've ever received. At some point, I cried out,"Magadahhhlaaaa" and then explained breathlessly, "I ran out of curse words." Painful.

And what did I get out of the whole spa treatment? More pain, and I can still barely walk, and what's worse is that the rest of the muscles in my body are now starting to rebel. bastards.

And speaking of the need for ICU, my car is in the shop again for the second day in a row [after being told it was fixed]. damnit.

skareoke 2

ok, though nothing can beat the original skareoke, my downstairs neighbors are trying their best. the most godawful sounds and music are coming from an extremely loud amp, and my cats are staring at me and whining. and the thing is, it's just this one woman over and over again, singing her repetoire of...well, i'm not sure what it is. it might be folk music or an 80s ballad in slowmo. i'm not sure, but whatever it is, it is horrific.

firkin catbirds

So I was talking to Praxis about flights to Abq when I realized that I needed to go run, so run I did, and when I finished, i headed to the local pub for some vodka concoction and a caesar salad, which i haven't had in a year.

Speaking of a year, it is the one year anniversary of the million dollar smile, so drinking was warranted.

I spend the time at the pub texting 3 people at one time--2shirts to get him to come out, glinda whom i fight with about whether Aslan could top Stryder, and Praxis about 80s songs and random movies. 2 vodka concoctions later, I get a hankering for catbirds and call up Darth, who, coincidentally, is already at catbirds. We take our usual weirdass picture via picture phone and send it to Glinda, and then let her know how much we miss her.

Catbirds is its usual self, and i have 2 more vodka concoctions (actually, just vodka on the rocks this time) and try to convince hank that the splotches he sees on the windows are really sperm. I also help some poor woman get over her innane crush on Jeff Goldblum, telling her that he is a podperson and she's better off without him, and then, helping someone else distinguish Endora, the bitchy mother-in-law on Bewitched, from Endor, the planet of the teddy bear warriors on Star Wars.

The music was Billie, and that made me happy, but catbirds was the same truXtop on the way to hell.

As I'm leaving, the woman with the crush on Goldblum gets a phone call from her southern baptist camp loving daughter who is in band camp for the first time. I can't help myself...this one time at band camp....and ask her what she plays. Yes, my friends, it was the flute. lol.

rainin' on my parade

You know, nearly everytime that I tell someone that I'm running a marathon I get a negative response. I'm ok with comments like, "You're crazy" or "You do realize how tough that is, right?" Yeah, these kind of comments I'm ok with. The ones that bother me are ones like the following (insert colon here, but my keyboard won't type it)

• my sister trained 4 times for a marathon, and each time, she injured herself at about the 21 mile run, so she's never gotten to actually run it. She finally gave up. Good luck.
• people die from those things, you know. Really, they do. There was this one woman...
• just don't be alarmed if you get black toenails. That's pretty common. They'll probably fall off, too. (this one in particular freaks me out to no end. i have dreams of this, and it rivals the dream of my teeth falling out. the soundtrack--black hole sun and paint it black)
• you'll probably get diarrhea at the race. that happens a lot. just be ready for that.
• yeah, so i'm donating to this thing, but what if you can't make it. i mean, is my money wasted? (answer--no, the society still gets the funds i raised; i just have to live with the humiliation of not making it).
• your calves aren't very big. i thought you were in a dance company at one time. you won't make it with calves like that.
• you're probably going to cry through the whole race. they all cry, especially if they don't make it.
• have you ever run before? you don't run. you needed to have trained for years before this.
• oh yeah, I've run that one. That one hill from mile 6-8 elevates to about 250. yeah, that's a bitch. no amount of hill training helps that one.

See, the thing is, my name is Crankykim not Chipperkim, so I'm really adept at coming up with every scenario possible in which I fail at this endeavor, so really, there's no need for you naysayers to add to my obsessive nightmare. It's bad enough that I think about how I've still got 20 more miles to think about at this point and about how the course is pretty hilly, but now i have to worry about my toenails falling off. I at least want pretty feet when I collapse at mile 10.

buggerall.

embryonic

Since I've started training, I've become like a baby. All I do is eat, sleep, and make trips to the bathroom. Somewhere in there, I work 60 hours a week, but it feels like all I do is eat, sleep and make trips to the bathroom.

My muscles think they have the flu.

But damn it feels good!

just call me ripley

Last night, I had a sex dream about an alien with long, green, spindly fingers.

i'm a piece of shit

dear god. today's workout sucked ass. 3 miles plus 3 runs up the parking garage.

it was hot. it was steamy. it was sticky. all these things would be great in other circumstances but not when running. i actually did the unthinkable--i ripped my shirt off and ran in just a jog bra. i vowed this would never happen, but at the point that i reached the parking garage, i didn't care. nothing mattered except being as naked as possible, and really, if i knew the girls wouldn't hurt if i ran without my magical jog Bra, i would've ripped off everything. good god it is HOT in houston.

and note to self--under no circumstances should i ever ever ever eat before running, even if it is 2 hours before. and under no circumstanceS am i ever eating taco bell 7 layer burrito again. the pains in my stomAch are unparalleled.

my computer is f'd again, if you can't tell. ah god. i need a shower.

Flashback--the van, the van

Today is the anniversary of the van dream, but it is also the anniversary of the $1,700 party I crashed a year ago. You know, it's sad when your blog posts have to be either opera dreams or flashbacks of an exciting life you used to have. Maybe I should do something interesting today.

At least this proves that I am the lesser of 2 evils.

Opera Dreams

When I was a kid, I used to love it when Mr. Rogers had his little operas on. There weren't that many, so it was always a surprise when they'd come on. My dreams are similar. Sometimes they just have a soundtrack behind them, like in the Hungry Hippo dream, and other times they are a full on musical, like last night.

I can't remember much about the dream last night except that it involved drunk pastors, me running around trying to find polyethelene, and a bunch of work rubbish, but the entire dream was musically charged. I have two of the songs (Chemistry Pop and The Pay Pal Blues) stuck in my head. Trust me, they're catchy. I assume they'll hit the airwaves soon. Then I'll be famous, and finding money to go on a vacation won't be so difficult.

purple hippos

Though it is not quite the anniversary of the van dream, I did have the weirdest dream about Praxis last night.

We had talked on the phone and had decided to meet up at the airport. He had a layover in Houston, and then we flew together to abq, picked up G's friend, Ig, and then drove to Colorado for Shelly's party. On the plane, Prax had been telling me this whole story about how G wanted us to go to the Butt Cove, which apparently is this little cave of the sea where a giant sea lion lives who sticks it's butt out of the cave hole. I couldn't really understand the fascination with it, but whatever.

So we pick up Ig, and with all of my dreams, somehow morph through the air and reappear in colorado shortly after. That is where we meet up with some other random friends I know from Chicago and my friend, Panchette of purple van fame, and then get into an orange rubber raft and head out to sea. Somehow, there is an ocean in the middle of Colorado, mind you.

Bonniebell is steering us, and Ig is trying to help her, while Prax, Panchette, and I are lazily hanging in the back of the raft, when I suddenly look over and see a gigantic hippo head in the water, and when I say gigantic, I mean that his nostril is 3 times the size of Praxis' head, and he is sniffing Praxis up and down.

Prax mutters out, Um, someone needs to move this raft, and then I look over and see 4 more hippos. We're surrounded, and Bonniebell can't get us out of the situation. Just then, the hippo, starts licking Praxis, covering him in intense goo, and he is freaking the hell out, as he should be. Bonniebell is putting her whole weight into moving the boat, and then she screams, "someone get the motor." So I pull a motor out of nowhere, attach it magically, and then we rev up the raft. Still, we're going nowhere, so Praxis, whose head is now sticking up through the hippos mouth, screams, "pedal to the metal," and out of nowhere, Eye of the Tiger plays, and Bonniebell guns it. We tread up a lot of water, and then we shoot over the top of the hippos and out towards sea.

I woke up after that, so I have no idea if we ever made it to see the sea lion's ass.

Hell yeah

This week was a cutback week, so we only did 4 miles plus 2 hill repeats and a parking garage. I ran the entire thing. HooRah!

Notes for the day--lavender gatorade tastes nasty after a run. Pretzels still rock, but almonds do not set well after a run. Bananas are still the best breakfast before a run. Running at 4am is not so bad once you get started.

Do I stink?

Remember this? Well, today someone put a sampler vial of Hugo Boss for women and some other perfume in my box. I've lost the connection between all of the gifts. The last gift was a manger scene with a bodyless shepherd.

I mean, I feel like it should be a series of clues leading me to the answer, to the culprit, to something. I just don't get it.

.2 miles short of a 10k

I ran 6 miles today, and really, I'm starting to become addicted. I don't feel that way before I run or really during, but afterward, I'm addicted. Actually, the runs are getting easier, and I'm not feeling as winded or side stichy. Today I only got one side stich (a doozy ) while running up the 4th hill in a row after 4 miles of running. Right after that, there was a water stop, and it was really hard to get myself back to jogging again. I walked a little and then, yelling "I am Trinity" to myself, I started up again. I'd say that I only walked about a mile in all, if that, which is significantly improved from where I was 3 weeks ago when running a block made me pukey.

So Vanessa, give me until my 8 miler, and I will probably be ready to run a 6 with you. Just be kind.

Damnit, though, they didn't have pretzels today, and vanilla cookies are just nasty after a run to me, so I was not happy. I don't do sweet after running--yes, I know it's odd since I would do sweet over anything all the time. Went to Le Peep afterward, and I could barely eat my pancakes, which are usually my staple post running food. I just wanted eggs, eggs, and more eggs. My body is weird.

Ok, but here's how addicted I am--I'm tempted to stay in town for the 4th of July so that I can run a little 5k (ha! I called a 5k little) for practice. I've never done a real race before, so I figure it will give me some practice knowing sort of what to expect. I'll probably come in last and will owe the company the $25 timing chip since they will have packed up and left by the time I finish, but what the hell. Then maybe I'll fly out to Colorado for Glinda's housewarming that weekend.

rosebud

my asshole has a martini! and the bartender actually pronounced its name correctly. don eduardo is pleased.

sadly, tootie g doesn't have one.

Sparrow lake?

omg, pirates and ballet? it's a dream come true.

my running mantra

about the 4th mile, i start chanting to myself, "i am trinity."

random funnies 2

no, i'm not e.e. cummings; my keyboard still won't type capital letters. here are the random funnies for the day

• today i arrived at work from vacation to a picture of me on my door with the copy, 'looking for something more?'; also in my office were random scary ass puppets [these kind] and a ransom note for my 'runaway' plant explaining that it left due to neglect and abuse. this prompted me to hang one of the puppets from the ceiling of my coworker's office, hangman's style. redfaced, he explained to me that it would scar children to see it. yeah, well it scarred me to see them sitting in my office chair.
• bumper sticker on a jeep in front of me on my commute to work read, 'i have a perfect body. it's in the trunk and is starting to smell.' so many things funny about that bumper sticker
• having some sort of reading disability today. out of the corner of my eye, i saw the words fitness pedometer and interpreted them as fitness protection program. i guess this is where i'll go if i don't finish the marathon
• lol--because of my trauma with the puppets earlier, i typed in creepy puppets on you tube and came up with this which reminds me of harlan pepper from best in show

i guess that's it for now, but i'm fervently searching for some good joel osteen imitations online. sadly, everyone loves him.