Blubbering fool

I'm not really a crier. Sometimes my throat closes, and I get this funny itch in my nose like I'm going to sneeze, and I feel like crying, but I just am not much of a crier. The movie Rudy makes me cry, as does ET. I cry when I have the flu or a fever of 103 or something. I've gotten really angry before and burst out crying, much to my surprise and chagrin. Still, I'm not much of a crier.

Today started as a normal day. I went to work, acted belligerent in a staff meeting, took a long lunch, worked late, came home to run, saw Radford and gave him a distant high five, and came in to eat some peanut butter and do some situps.

I turned on the tv. Watched some Singing Bee. Watched Beauty and the Geek for about 2 minutes which was my first and last 2 minutes of that show. Then I saw that Nova was on. It was a special about marathoners. They put together a team of sedentary people and led them through training for the Boston Marathon. They all overcame the normal training challenges of a novice runner and then trudged through the marathon like I did. Sadly, they were all faster than me I think, but they had the 3 time winner of the Boston to train them, so I guess I can't beat myself up too badly.

Watching them cross the finish line, though, I started getting that little tickle in my throat, and then the tears came. I was like Jerry Seinfeld: "My God, what is this salty discharge? Is this crying?" I was blubbering like a baby. Watching them cross brought back all the emotion from the day of. Wow. It was like PTSD but kind of good PTSD. Maybe it's Post Triumphal Stress Disorder. It just made me realize that the coaches were right when they told me to take my time, take it all in, remember this marathon. There is nothing in the world like your first marathon. Nothing.

4020 baby

I finished 4020th overall out of over 23,000 runners. Not too shabby for a turtle!

BTW, the girl who won finished in a little over 3 hours, and she rode a racing chair propelled by one hand. Unbelievable strength to go up those hills.

26.2 is the new 30

or so says my shirt.

I did it. I finished. I'm done.

Many people are asking me how I did. I'm not sure how to answer that. Do they want to know my time? my rank? whether or not I did a face plant halfway through? Well, I'll answer all of those in the chronology of a marathon below:

Pre race--2 days of last minute runs, sign ins, making commercials for nike, etc. The pre race pasta party was amazing. We entered the convention center, walked across the floor and up the escalators while being cheered on both sides by a line of leukemia survivors and battlers. I almost broke into tears. It was overwhelming.

The starting line-- I woke up at 3:30 to eat my breakfast, a banana. I peed 3 times before walking out the door, just to prevent having to stand in line at portapotties on the way. Wearing my old sweatshirt over my singlet, I headed out into th cold to walk a 1/2 mile to the starting line. Stretched. Jogged in place. Lined myself up with Tiffany's for luck. And then the countdown and HONK, we're off.

Mile 1--we wove through the financial district. I had heeded my coach's advice to take it slow. That meant I walked. Spirits were high. People were cheering. It was still dark.

Mile 2--I don't remember. Somehow I missed it. One minute I started the race, and the next I saw the 3 mile marker. huh.

Mile 3--making the bend toward Fisherman's Wharf. There were cheerleaders here and a water stop. Someone took my picture. I was thinking, who in the hell wants my picture. It was our event captain. Thank God.

Mile 4--Fisherman's Wharf. Coolest thing. The sea lions were all barking. I think they were saying: "Go Kim!"

Mile 5--Ghiradelli Square. Another water stop and a Gwen Stefani look alike. Still dark. Still taking it slow. A little freaked out while looking at Alcatraz when a few spirited people jumped out at us wearing prison garb and clanking pans together. Ha ha! Real funny.

Mile 6-9--The presidio climb. This was the start of the massive hills. We basically wound our way up from 0 elevation to 295 in 3 miles. It was awesome to watch the sun come up over the Golden Gate. Wow. This, btw was the point where my bladder decided to go into hyperdrive. I had to dash off course to find someplace to pee away from cops. I must've lost 15 minutes of time doing so. My running partner for the race didn't make it and peed on herself. She was not happy.

Mile 9--DJ Stop. Again had to pee. WTF? There was a portapotty this time. This was also where I ditched my sweatshirt. This is the point when I started keeping my normal pace, which was actually faster than normal because it was so nice and cool.

Mile 10--ran through Robin Williams' neighborhood. I'm still chipper at this point, except for the urgent need to pee again. Luckily, there was a portapotty right in front of Robin's house, so I used it. Then met up with my coach who said, "I am so glad to see you smiling at this point. You are doing AWESOME on time!" I was surprised by that comment since I had been specifically taking it slow. Then again, I did book it up the hill for 3 miles. Walked, but booked it.

Mile 11--I love mile 11. The entire mile was a plummet downhill to 0. I ran like Phoebe with arms waving wildly. My coach told me to run with big strides in almost a leap. I pulled out my inner ballerina and did split leaps down the hill. Looked like a gazelle. I think I flew! First time in my life I ever did a 7 minute mile. Awesome.

Mile 12. Stretched a little at the water stop to allow my partner to catch up. I got a little carried away. Still feeling fantastic. We're in Golden Gate Park at this point, my favorite part of the course. The only bad thing was that it was a loop, so on the other side of the street, you could see the elite runners at their mile 16. Ah well. There was a fork in the road here, too. At this point, you had to make a quick decision as to whether to bail out to the half marathon part of the fork or the full. We chose the road most traveled--the full. Felt fantastic. Told my partner that I was addicted. We HAD to do another marathon for sure. Whohoooooo! She agreed. Whohoooooo!

Mile 13.1--halfway through. Felt great. Gave silent kudos to coaches for the advice on taking it slow. I have never felt this good at a 13 mile point. The camaraderie at this point was awesome, too. Other than the elites who were focused on zooming past, everyone would wave and yell Go _____ (our names were on our singlets). People would run backwards to help pick up other people and get them going again. It wasn't competitive. It was awesome. I finally loved running. Ran with another coach who said, "You are awesome. Wow. I am really impressed. Keep going."

Mile 14-16--this was the loop back around to where we were at 12. Waved at all the other runners. Cheered. Yea! Whooooooped for a girl whose poster read, "Kick Leukemia's ass." Whohoooooo! Ate my salt tab.

Mile 16--Still feeling fantastic. This was one of the coolest miles. It was a half mile long tunnel with hi def screens on each side, reading your timing chips and telling you how far you've gone, cheering you by name and playing some sort of high energy club music. And then Lance Armstrong appears and says, "You can do it!" I know, Lance. I know! Whooooooooooooo the adrenaline through that tunnel!!!!!

Mile 17--doin' good. doin' good. Blisters kinda hurtin' on my feet at this point, but doing good. Whew! It's hot as hell. What the hell is making me so hot? Damn, it's hot. Wtf? and wtf is that smell? OMG. That stinks. Oh crap, it's the zoo. OMG that stinks, and it's hot. Why is it so hot? We're on the Great Highway at this point. Look down at my watch. We had to make mile 18 by noon or they'd escort us off the course in a cop car. It's 9:57. Wohooo! I will make it.

Mile 18--10:08. Made it. No cop cars for me! At this point I had been running for 4 hours and 38 minutes. Low end average marathoners usually have finished by this point. In fact, I know this because I could see them looping back to the finish line, but that's ok. Actually, that wasn't ok because it was freakin' hot. What the hell? The sun was just beaming down on the left hand side of my face. Damn. In fact, it was so bright I couldn't see anything. Had to look down at my feet to see the road. Freakin' hot. My teammate reminds me that I only have 8 more miles to go. Holy crap. 8??? That is so easy. I can do 8! Energy back. Ate a gu. Doin' ok.

Mile 19--This is the farthest I had ever run. Every step from that point was new territory, and I felt a hell of a lot better than I did the last time I ran it. I felt like I normally did at 10, for gods' sake. Whohooo (a little quieter and more subdued but still whoohoooo). At the end of 19 we entered what was supposed to be the worst part of the course, Lake Merced. Wikipedia has a nice pretty picture of Lake Merced. Trust me, it isn't pretty. We were on the outside running in the traffic, though, so maybe it's prettier when you are inside the tree line.

Mile 20--this is the wall for most people, but it didn't break me. Partner still doing fine. I'm starting to understand, though, why this lake is the worst. No water stops. No entertainment. Just traffic and honking and obnoxious people laughing at you. And the fucking sun! WTF!

Mile 21--partner breaks down. Some guy is playing "Just the Two of us" on a 1980s boombox. Her dad died of leukemia. This was his favorite song. So we stop for awhile and talk about how he knows this is her wall and he's cheering her on. about 10 minutes later, we're up and at it again. Truthfully, I think this little pit stop was the beginning of the end. If I had just kept going, my feet would've been ok, but how can you leave someone crumpled up crying? Plus, she helped my ass get motivated again at 18! And you know, that's what I loved about this marathon. Women were stopping and helping people get through. This was also the Mission Mile. They covered it with signs made by the honored teammates (people with leukemia). Teammates were there cheering us. I choked up here. Really brought home what I was doing this for.

Mile 22--up and at 'em again. Slower. Much slower. Still running, though. Feet starting to hurt really bad. Stopped at an aid station to break open my blisters and salve them. It was like in boxing when they cut your eye and grease it. Kinda cool but not. Send Glinda a text from the aid station: "I can't remember who I am." Back on my feet. Silence all around. Everyone hates the lake. I'm still ok, though. No wall yet. Still going. going. going.

Mile 23--errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr KABOOM! I slammed into the wall headfirst. I could literally feel it. My head felt like it was being sucked into a wormhole. My feet felt like millions of fire ants were stinging them and some oaf was trying to beat up the fire ants with a 2x4 with nails in it. My back hurt to breathe. Some prissy girl with I love Jesus on her shirt who had been uber chipper up until about 22 suddenly says, "I am so sick of this SHIT!" I tried to laugh but it hurt my back. My lips suddenly went numb. I asked my partner if this was normal. She said, "um, I think numb lips are a sign of heatstroke (she says this very slowly and slurred) drink." I drank what was left in my fuel belt. Keep in mind we hadn't had a water stop since 18, so I couldn't refill it. I forgot where I was milewise. The person next to me, oh yeah, my running partner, couldn't remember either. All I knew was that we were still running around the Lake of No Return. Jesus! The half bottle of water helped me come back to life a bit. At this point, my partner says she can't keep up anymore and to leave me. I wanted to stop. I swear I did, but I couldn't. If I stopped, I would stop completely. I couldn't stop. She gave me permission to continue. I did.

Mile 24--big fucking hill. They told me there were no more hills. yet here it is, a big fucking hill. One of my coaches sees me at this point, "Come on. keep going. You're doing great. Great view at the top of the hill." I had to keep myself in check to not say, "I don't give a damn about a great view. i want a chair and some fucking water." Still no water stop, but I was back up on the Great Highway. Great, I realized at this point, meant long and expansive, not fantastic. See, the thing is, cardiovascularly I was ok. I was exhausted mentally more than anything else. Running for that long is taxing on the brain, and now I was alone. I just wanted to stop running.

Mile 25--I can see the water stop. I make it there. Ooops. We're out of water. It's hot today, sorry. we have gatorade, though. Now one would think that gatorade would be a nice alternative. NOT WHEN YOU WANT WATER! Something odd happens when you run long distances. Your body takes over. It tells you what it wants, and it's specific. I wanted water. They didn't have it. I drank Gatorade and started sniffling. I couldn't cry. I felt like crying. My feet were crying. my diaphragm heaved like I was crying, and my throat got all vaklempt, hut the tears wouldn't come. Maybe it was the dehydration. All I could do was whimper quietly, and whimper I did. Coach calls to me, "Come on, Kim, there's a blue box waiting for you." I say, "I don't give a damn about a blue box. I just want my fucking flip flops." But I start shuffling instead of lumbering. They all (random people and coach) cheer, "That's it Kim. Good job. Keep going. Don't let it get you." I run a little harder, still shuffling, though.

Mile 25.5--I see Edgy. He's there to run the rest of the way with me. I whimper a little about wanting flip flops and ask for water. He doesn't have any. I whimper again. He says, "See that tent. It's the finish line. you can do it." I do. I see the tent. I do. it's there, and at the end of that tent are my flip flops. Once I hit that tent I don't have to run anymore. Motivation beyond belief. Edgy stops to tie his shoes and says, "I'll catch up with you. Keep going." And something hit me. I didn't want to run anymore, and if I ran really fast, that not running would come sooner! Yeah! I am going to run fast. Really fast. And I took off like a rocket. I zig zagged around people. People were cheering, "Yeah, Kim! Doing AWESOME. Look at you!!!" I barely heard them. I was breaking the speed of sound.

Mile 26--I see the corral. I enter it. It sucks me in like a black hole. I can't even hear screams anymore. It was surreal, like being on the red carpet at the Oscars. I feel that urge to cry again, and I do sort of but in gasp like whimpers. I cross the finish line in a huge leap, and whimper some more, forgetting to look at the clock or stop my watch. I get my blue box from some man in a tux and realize that i didn't lift my arms in a Y (Sorry prax). I'm done. I can walk. I'm done.

Post race--I can't describe the horrible mess afterwards. it's like you're on a moving sidewalk at disneyland that takes you to get a shirt (which you hope is the right size) and get your chip taken off and takes you to get your half sandwich and chips. I didn't think I was hungry until I took a bite. Then I inhaled my lunch. Edgy caught up at this point saying, "jesus. That was fast. Holy crap, when did you learn to run like that? I tied my shoe, looked up and you weren't even in view." All I knew is I wanted out of this hell. OMG it was crowded and awful. and then we had to climb a fucking hill to the bus.

Now it's been 2 days, and I finally am able to understand what it is that I just accomplished. Houston alone raised $400,000 for Leukemia, and the event raised $18.4 million together. This year alone, TNT has raised $600 million. And I ran a marathon. And I'm going to do it again.

oh god

I'm going to puke.

What in the hell did I get myself into? I get on a plane in 9 hours. I have to run a marathon in less than 3 days.

oh god.

Oh Crap!

Oh Crap. Oh Crap. Oh Crap.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I am going to run a marathon in a little over a week! OMG.

Seriously, what the hell was I thinking? It didn't quite set in until tonight when I picked up my singlet and race packet. OMG.

'Cause see, here's the thing: I'm a total sucker for movies like Rudy and any movie with William H. Macy like Door to Door, that movie about the Watkins salesman. They choke me up. The underdog overcomes all obstacles and tells people to basically kiss their ass. I get all misty eyed, and my throat closes up. That's what happened with this marathon. They show me pictures of these kids crying as they watch people crossing the finish line for them with this crescendoed music in the background, and I become butter, reaching into my pocket for my checkbook and slicing my arm open to sign my name on the dotted line in blood.

That was May. In May, the marathon seemed like something I was gonna do, maybe.

In September, when I resigned my commitment form, it still seemed like something I was gonna do--in the future--someday--one day--yeah.

Even a few days ago, I was still thinking of it like aging: One day my hair will turn gray, and my face will shrivel, and probably, my boobs will sag (oh, I hope not), and oh yeah, I'll run a marathon. You know? ONE DAY! Not in a WEEK!

Then I left the pre race party for the first bar I could find and drank really pricey wine, and as I stared into the ruby elixir, I realized that I don't actually want to run the marathon. I just want to train for the marathon half assed, eat my carbs, and talk about one day running one. OMG.

Oh crap!

Snarfle Argy McSnargy

Ok, I'm freaking the hell out (thus the nonsensical title to this post). Everything has happened all at once, and I'm a little overwhelmed.

1. I am now living in the burbs. It is way too quiet. I mean it's like solitary confinement at Alcatraz quiet. Crazy quiet. I was eating crackers the other day, and I could swear that it was so loud that my neighbors could hear it (if I have them). My new apt is ok, though. I had to sign a wildlife addendum that says that I won't feed the animals etc. I've seen lots of raccoons and huge ass spiders with webs as strong as guitar strings. No alligators yet, but they were mentioned on the addendum with coyotes.

2. A month and a half until my marathon. Had a little panic attack today. I did 18 miles last weekend with little problems (the arch of my foot cramps up at mile 16), but someone sent me this link today, and it freaked me out. Really, it freaked me out. WTF am I doing? What was I thinking? Seriously, I went to a meeting atop Central Market in May, and they showed me these damned videos with poor leukemia kids crying and fat people crossing the finish line, and I'm totally bawling deep down inside with the little lump in my throat and I signed the dotted line. WTF??? I am NOT a runner! What was I thinking? Holy shit. I could die. Really, I could die! I mean the fear has now gone from not finishing to freaking dying. OMG.

3. I have a new running group. It's still the Leuk society, but this is the clear lake leukers. They're nice. They are. I have to say that. They're much nicer than Memorial and less competitive. In fact, I came in second on Tuesday, right behind Chipper Lori who I keep calling Chipper Jen because I forget her name is Lori. Chipper Jen/Lori wears pink and not much of it because she forgets to wear clothes when she runs. She has less boobs than I do so she only needs two bandaids and dental floss to hold them together while she runs. Her shorts or speedos or something on the other hand, I'm not sure about. I wouldn't be caught dead swimming in that little fabric, much less running. She's built like a string bean, though, and has the energy of a rabbit on speed. We live in the same complex, apparently, and she's so damned excited that I could be her running partner. "OMG OMG OMG OMG, we TOTALLY live right next to each other you should TOTALLY come knock on my door and be my running partner." And she's running in place while I'm trekking up kemah bridge at the best of my ability for the 5th time, wheezing. As I explain to her that she runs an 8 minute mile, while I run a mere 11, I can see her eyes lose that twinkle and her Jokeresque smile start to sag. She looked like a little girl who had just dropped her lollipop in an ant bed. I explained that I hadn't ever run before, and this is my first attempt, and she says, "Oh TOTALLY! I TOTALLY started running in college 5 years ago." Yeah, that did it. I kicked it into gear and finished the last repeat faster than the Roadrunner. Bite me, chipper.

4. Did I mention I live in the suburbs?

5. Work is crazy insane. I haven't had time to breathe.

6. Everything I have is in boxes. Everything. I have one pair of shoes and a bra. I've been pulling shirts out of random boxes and putting them together with whatever will cover my ass. what happened was that I ran out of boxes on Thursday night before I moved, so everything got shoved into random grocery bags or duffel bags or filing cabinets--anything that holds something. I think I have a pair of underwear in a carafe somewhere, for gods' sake. My house looks like a life sized version of a Jenga tournament, boxes precariously stacked upon one another. I'm going nuts. And it's so damned quiet!!!

7. i forgot to switch my mail over, and I keep forgetting. WTF is wrong with me?

8. I can't even remember 8. I'm losing it people.

Good God

I just looked at my running log for the first time, and I have logged 270 miles on my itty bitty tootsies and my running shoes since i started training at the end of May. that, my friends, is freakin' insane. That is farther than it is from Houston to San Antonio, from Houston to Austin, and even from Houston to Dallas! In fact, it is the exact distance from Houston to my friend Gomez's house in McKinney. Craziness!

Tomorrow marks 2 months until my actual marathon, so my coaches are kicking us into high gear. Gone are the miles under 15, sadly. And gone are my breakfasts at Tapatia and dinners at Maria Selma's. Sigh. My new nutritionist (the old one was sent to the hospital for anorexia) is kicking my butt and putting me on a serious training regimen, foodwise. I think I shall get really tired of fruits, veggies, and grains, but it should improve my running times and help me beat the heat. And, of course, there's the addition of water, which though improved, I've still not hydrated enough.

So I lived it up this weekend in Austin on a party boat. Actually, Saturday night, I watched Alien Resurrection, Crouching Tiger, and 300 at a friend's house (great film), but I think that her boyfriend and his friends are the ultimate computer geekazoids, and I say that with all due reverence. They had 3 routers next to the TV, 5 laptops opened and operating while watching the film, and about 4 more in bags next to the computer. They could tell you how many Star Trek films each android in Alien had been in and exactly which frames of the movie 300 were exact replicas of the graphic novel pictures. I felt, well, out of place and ignorant but definitely awestruck.

Sat morning, I awoke to the sounds of Code Monkeys which was a combination of Atari 2600 and Nintendo NES. Actually, though incredibly unPC, it was quite clever. Ach, I've been infected by geekdom. Then we all went to breakfast at this "ice house." Only in Austin will you see an ice house for yuppies. This place was crawling with them and their little kids in Hawaiian shirts and slacker khakis. The best part of the morning, though, was this little boy who, unlike the other little boys playing Galaga and Pacman, sneaked over to the corner, grabbed the janitor's broom and began sweeping the place, much to the chagrin of his 78 lbs eating disordered mother. I have never seen a scrawny woman move that fast. She literally slapped his hand screaming, "NO NO That's what [insert racial slur] are for." I couldn't believe my eyes/ears.

Then we went out on the boat, which was a blast, and I've now turned my skin from Casper white to a nice toaster strudel brown, and that makes me happy. I can't wait to show up at work to hear all the tsk tsks they'll give me. Seriously, the Clear Lakeans are uberobsessed with SPF. They berate their kids for the slightest pink cheeks and then lather them with 4 kinds of products to get rid of A B C and D rays or whatever. Sometimes I wonder if these people are so empty that they have to find things to worry about. Seriously, I've got some problems they can have if they really want something to be anxious over.

Ah well, the weekend was great, and it was awesome to hang out with BCL and her brilliant computer gurus. I wish we lived closer. Then again, it wouldn't take me too long to run there. :-)

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.

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!

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.

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.

.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.

A post from Monday

My keyboard/computer/monitor/everything technological is all fubared, so I couldn't post this on Monday, so just pretend it's Memorial Day, ok? Oh, and ignore the random caps and/or no caps bc my computer decides where to put them in regardless of what I type.

So today's training let me know how far I've come. I truly am getting better at this running thing, endurancewise anyway [i still look like a fool, i'm sure]. on my practice run today, i was able to run for longer than i ever have without stopping. my breathing was regular, and i didn't feel winded at all until about 1 1/2 miles. at that point, i got that stupid wind cramp, but i walked for about 2 minutes and then hit it again--this time without feeling winded or stopping until the run was over. i didn't feel sick at my stomach at the end, either. i'm really pumped because i didn't think i was getting any better. of course, this was the first evening run, and i am soooo much better at doing everything in the evening. i just can't do this morning crap. first of all, i hate breakfast and i hate getting up early, so getting up early to eat breakfast is not likely to happen. the problem is that i can't run on an empty stomach, but i can't run until i've digested for at least an hour, and i haven't figured out exactly what to eat for breakfast yet, either. everything kind of makes me sick, but running empty makes me sicker. tonight was great bc there was a 5 hour gap between eating and running. on top of that, did i mention that running at 6am just bites the big one?

and these people, these freaky running enthusiast people, are so damned perky. how in the hell can one be so perky at 6am? no one is meant to be perky at 6am. the other hard part of this early run thing is that i can't make myself go to sleep before midnight. if i try, i will be awake all night, so i usually end up running the long runs on 1-4 hours of sleep. that might get easier, though, because for the past 3 days, i've awakened at 650 spot on, and that just shouldn't happen. it does, though, and i can't go back to sleep. still, here it is at 10pm, and i feel like i could stay up til 2. ah well. tomorrow is speed and hill training, so i'll enjoy the triumphant feeling while it lasts. after sprinting and crawling up parking garage ramps, i am sure that i will feel like a failure tomorrow.
in other news, i finally scheduled a vacation, so i am headed to the Big Easy in 2 weeks. i still want to make a trip up to chitown and one somewhere else [dc, abq, co, or maybe san fran] before the summer ends. just buying the plane tickets for nola helped me overcome the burnout hump. for awhile there, i thought i wasn't going to make it. now when i feel the burnout pains coming on, i just think of the beignets, chicory coffee, and hurricanes i'm going to have in a few weeks. gets me through. hmmm, cranky running around the streets of nola by herself for the most part [gordie's going, but she'll be in a conference most of the time]--that's scary, but great fuel for blogging. finally, i might have something interesting to write about again.

On the road to dynamite!

It's official. I've written the check, and I am now a team member in training. I've also officially noted that I'm prissy. Yes, that's right, I'm prissy. I'm not as prissy as Bonniebell (smooches, sweetie), but I'm close.

Today at the informational meeting, I was the only person with even a hint of makeup on, and mind you, I only wear eyeliner and Burt's Bees lipgloss. I also was the only person who was "dressed up," and I was wearing a tank top, denim capris, and wedge sandals. Oh, and I had on earrings and a butterfly necklace. Everyone else was decked out in dry max gear. I felt myself wondering if we were actually supposed to start physically training today.

I also was the only person drinking a cappuccino. No, I take that back, one other person was driking something from the downstairs cafe. She, however, carefully hid her caffeinated beverage behind her information packet, while I sipped my frothy pick me upper with pride. And I knew I had signed up for something serious when the informational meeting, held above a fantasic Central Market deli and bakery, did not have any refreshments whatsoever. Sigh.

And, other than the staff members present, I was the only one who knew that the cute little blue boxes tied up in satin white ribbons at the front of the room were from Tiffany's. Sigh. Apparently they pass them out upon completion of the marathon, a donation from the fine store. I quote my mentor, Holly Golightly: "Didn't I tell you this was a lovely place?"

Nevertheless, I signed up. After choking up uncontrollably (and visibly) during the emotional video and personal testimonies, I couldn't say no. Now, having signed on the dotted line and having written my first check, I feel like I've fallen off a cliff into something I may not be able to do, but I'll try. Half the participants today backed out, so I'm ahead of them at least.

And I'm walking (though the coach thinks I can run--HA!) for a good cause and in memory of my cousin and a friend and for an honored teammate I have yet to meet. That, I think, will get me through.

T.I.T.

I don't just use the acronym bc I'm juvenile and obsessed with acronyms (PISD) and my mammaries. Really, I didn't notice the acronym until I abbreviated the meeting on my calendar--"TIT 9:30." It's like when I used to work in the head injury field and would do assessments. I'd write, "Voc ass" or "job ass" on my planner, and I didn't even notice until a neuropsych pointed it out to me. Then I'd write it on purpose.

But seriously, TIT (or TNT as I just noticed on the website --hmmm maybe I should've looked at that to begin with) stands for team in training, and though I'm flippant about it's abbreviation, I am hard core serious about the cause. On Saturday, I am attending an informational session about walking a marathon for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I'm planning to do the Nike marathon in San Fran bc you can walk it (and there's the 1/2 marathon option in case I fizzle out). I've been doing some preliminary stuff, and I'm actually at 14 miles, but I am not timing myself yet, so I couldn't tell you how bad I am at this point.

What I really like about it is that they hook you up with an honored teammate. I happen to know someone who died of leukemia and a family friend with blood cancer currently, but it will be nice to also meet someone who is a survivor and walk for them.

So 2 more days until I find out what I'm getting myself into. I should celebrate with brownies! Mmmmm!