Meet Roxie!

Several weeks ago, I met my dad about 40 minutes from my house where he was meeting a family who had chihuahua puppies. He has been devastated since last fall over the death of my brother's dog, a chi who was more like my dad's pup than my brother's. My dad's been through a lot of physical stuff this year, and getting a puppy of his own was something that I knew would breathe new life into him. My mom finally agreed to it, so my dad and I met this little cutie, as well as her mom and dad, too.
The minute my dad held her, I knew he had to adopt her. We made the arrangements and planned to pick her up just before Christmas -- right after she'd had her first shots.

She hadn't grown too much since we'd seen her, but she seemed to take to us fairly easily.

In fact, as much as she loved to be held, she seemed to prefer climbing her way up to this perch to nap.

And over the next few days, through Christmas and the blizzard, she continued to get more and more acclimated to life with my parents in her new home. She is hysterical to play with -- such a tiny little thing (2lbs, 14oz!) with a ton of energy.

She's bouncy and cuddly and super cute. We'll train her well so she's not yappy and annoying like some chi's I've known. I know she'll bring my dad lots of love and companionship and joy. I can see the difference in him already, and that's the best gift I could have.

Christmas at the beach

Christmas day was crisp and clear. I snuck out for an 8 miler between gift-opening sessions. It was a long day, but good family time. The next morning, as I ran 5 miles, the snow began to fall. After my run I snapped a few pics that show just an inch or so of snow on the yard and on the beach:

Overnight, however, the snow fell like crazy. The 30+mph winds created drifts that were chest high in some places, and the plowing that was done would lock us into place:


This is the same front yard as the first pic. See the top of the little Christmas tree?



After a LOT of back-breaking shoveling, and some help from some boys that drove by, I was able to eventually get my car out. My dad's truck, however, will be buried for a while. (See it to the left of my car?) My mom's car was across the street in a friend's driveway, so we dug her out, too.


With my car out, a path dug to the front door and back, and my mom's car now able to be driven, I felt ok to head home. I cautioned my parents to not try to drive anywhere because the plowing didn't really clear the roads. As I headed home, I would see just how bad the roads were.

This is the ocean road in front of my parents' house. I am looking south, with the ocean on the left of the picture just over those dunes.

I was able to eventually get my 4-wheel drive Jeep through the ocean road and down to the main boulevard, which looked like this:

It was a crazy drive off the island. It's a good thing the temps are warming up this week -- they're going to need all the help with snow removal that they can get!

Lunar Eclipse

For the first time since 1638, a total lunar eclipse coincided with the winter solstice. The position was perfect for North America viewing, and the clear skies we were forecasted to have would make it easy to see. Since I haven't been sleeping well anyway, I snapped a picture of the bright, shining, full moon, and then went to bed telling myself I'd like to wake up watch the eclipse.

I woke up on my own at about 2:30am and went out on my deck. The moon was partially shadowed at that point, so I snapped a pic and then went inside and settled myself onto my sofa where I had a perfect view.

I watched the moon become fully shadowed until it was a red, soft-glowing version of the earlier full moon. I went outside and tried to snap another pic, but my camera wouldn't show it. Here's what it looked like at that point:

(from mashable.com)

I settled back on the sofa for a bit, but the moon stayed shadowed long enough that by 3:40ish I knew I needed to get some more sleep before my alarm woke me for work at 5:25am. Though I had really wanted to see it unveil, I headed up to bed. When my alarm woke me a short time later, the moon was back to its full, shining, glow.

What a cool thing to see. A once in a lifetime thing, actually. Though we won't have to wait hundreds of years for another total lunar eclipse on the winter solstice, the next one, according to NASA, won't happen again until 2094.

My (sick) view.

This has been my view for the better part of the past few days:

That's the view from my sofa.

I've been using a lot of this:

And today I got to watch (and be jealous) Oprah's Favorite Things show (part2):I was feeling better on Saturday -- got a wheezy, slow, but completed, 5 miler done in the morning, then worked all day at the running store, then headed into the city for my friend's birthday dinner at one of the restaurants in midtown. I decided not to go out for drinks after -- the couple glasses of wine I had at dinner was enough for this sick girl -- and I was home and in bed by 1am.

Too late, and too much on Saturday, I guess, because I barely slept at all that night and by Sunday morning I was feeling awful. Head congested again, nose and breathing a mess. After deciding I couldn't get my aching body to go for a run, I went for a short walk with my sister and nephew (he wasn't well, either). That was enough. I got home, discovered I had a 100.4* fever, and spent the rest of the day and night on the sofa.

I went to work today, but left during my prep and got some meds from the doc, and then came right home early this afternoon and spent the rest of the day on my sofa again. I'm over this. It's a nice sky view, but I want to feel better. I want to run.

2 miles

That was my run today, and I barely made it that far. Two days ago I came home from work feeling achey and sneezy. I went to yoga anyway, and that near killed me. The heat, the constant head up and down, and my lack of strength made me consider leaving the class after 15 minutes. I stuck it out, but it wasn't good.

I went to work yesterday and that was a bad move. I was miserable. Sneezy, eyes heavy, and yep -- a slight fever that I confirmed when I got home. I didn't run, swim or bike -- I basically crashed on my sofa for the rest of the day.

So today I stayed home from work. I was feeling a bit better -- no fever, way less sneezy -- and thought a short easy run might clear me out. Nope -- my lungs were not working at all. I had no strength. I even felt a bit dizzy.

So my easy 3 miler ended after barely making 2.

I've gotten my Christmas shopping done -- yay for free shipping with online orders! I've gotten some laundry done. And I've gotten a whole lot of laying on the sofa done for the past 24 hours.

I just need my lungs to work better. I want to run tomorrow!

Alone.

I was alone for 8 miles this morning. It was great. It was weird.

I normally see a bunch of other people out there on a Sunday morning. It was rainy, so maybe that's why I was the only one out there? Whatever -- I didn't mind it today.

I've been thinking a lot about pulling away recently. From people, from talking, from interactions.

Nothing good is happening with my interpersonal relationships lately. People not being straightforward, people putting words in my mouth. It's frustrating, and I'm just feeling like if I just pull away and not talk to or interact with anyone for a bit it might make things easier. Go to work, visit with my sister and nephews (family isn't the problem), do my workouts, keep to myself.

I don't necessarily like to be alone, but I'm just tired of dealing with other people's issues.

On my windy, rainy, warm (shorts!) run this morning, I was alone. I ran around the river, and I was quietly taking it all in -- this year, the empty path, where to go from here. This time a year ago I was super happy. I was enjoying living. Today, I miss that.

So I think I need to just be alone for a bit. See where friendships fall. See where life goes. Let 2010 fade away.

I need to get ready. Because I have to believe 2011 is going to be my year.

Laps

While running circles around my development in the peaceful quiet of 5am, I counted. Three times past my house would equal a mile. Three more circles, another mile. I'd do that 12 times this particular morning.

As I counted, I was struck by the similarity of this experience with the one I'd had swimming just the day before. In the pool, I usually swim 2000 yards. Some days a bit less, some days a bit more. Every day, I count my laps in 5's. 10 laps, 500 yards. 10 more, 1000. Do 20 more laps and I've hit my 2000. Back and forth, back and forth. I have a hard time keeping track of my swimming laps most days.

Funny, I rarely lose track of my running laps.

But then I started thinking about how my whole day is a lap. Wake up, go to work, go home from work, run/exercise (some days this happens before going to work), eat, bed. (And yes, there's showering, errands, and lots of other stuff in there on any given day, but you get my point!) Repeat that lap tomorrow. And the next day.

Even within my work my life is a series of laps. Monday through Friday, repeat. I'm a teacher, so September to June, summer break, repeat.

It's an intriguing concept to me -- this idea of a life of laps. Part of it sounds like I'm living on a hamster wheel, the other part sounds like there's an element of familiarity in my daily life and activites. Some days those laps feel tedious, other days those laps bring comfort.

Am I living on a track that I feel unable to step off of? Maybe at times. Not all the time. Sometimes not at all. Because even within those laps there are new experiences and new interactions and new people and new views.

Finish one lap, then turn around and run it in the other direction.

One hour running

For the first time since August, I ran for one hour yesterday. It was awesome. It was COLD, but it was sunny and clear, and I ran with my sister. My leg is feeling better. I might even say it feels like it's getting stronger, and I haven't been wearing the calf sleeves. My fitness is still terrible (how?! I was swimming and biking?! AGH!), but the run felt good.

I love the one hour run... it's long enough for a solid workout, but short enough to not be too taxing. Long enough to enjoy the sunshine or whatever the weather is, short enough to not be something you have to prep for.

And after yesterday's one hour run, I had my first post-run chocolate milk in what seems like forever. Yum.

On a side note, I saw this license plate the other night:

Interesting. I rarely seem to have this problem.

Giving (Running) Thanks

2010 has been a tough year. Probably the toughest of my life so far. But today, I was thankful that I'm still standing -- beaten up a bit, but standing. And I was thankful to spend the day with my family. I miss my grandmom, but we did ok today.


And, inspired by Cindi's post, I thought about what running has brought me in 2010, and how I'm thankful for it. So here's my 10 Running Things I'm Thankful for in 2010:


1) That even on my worst of days, my running allowed me some peace.

2) The effect my running has on my body is paramount. When I'm running, I feel better in my own skin. Being away from running for almost 2 months was beyond difficult. My body is uncomfortable right now, and I can't wait for the return to running to slim me back down to comfortable.

3) The connection my running gives me to my town. Working a part-time job at the local running store allows me to feel like I'm, in a small way, a part of this community. I like that.

4) My running (and my sister's) serves something of a positive role model to my little nephews. They ask about races, they ask about how my (our) run went, they ask about my calf, they know this is a big part of who I am.

5) The opportunity to finally meet Cindi in May in Champaign, IL. After all this time talking virtually, it was wonderful to finally meet her in person.

6) The ability to skip across the country and have people to spend time with along the way. I travelled to Minnesota this summer and ran a half marathon with people I would never have met without my running. Two friends opened their home to me for the whole long weekend and treated me like one of their own.

7) The opportunity to run in places all over this country. This year alone, I've run in Pennsylvania, Illinois, Minnesota, Las Vegas, California, Washington DC (sort of), and home: NJ -- both here outside Philly and along the coast.

8) Friends. Though I lost a couple friends earlier this year, the rest of the people I've become friends with working at the store have continued to be there. We don't spend as much time together as I did with my close group last winter, but they're still here.

9) Adventure. I've run in 20" of snow. I've run in snowstorms where my eyebrows end up making me look like Old Man Winter. I've run in pouring rain and giggled as people in cars drove by staring in wonder. I've run in the 103* heat of the desert. I've run along the Pacific Ocean and Atlantic Ocean within 24 hours of each other. I've run in a Mud Run, and I've run in a tri(du)athlon.

10) Through my running relationships, I've learned a lot about people this year. Some really good, some really terrible things to have to learn. I learned lessons that will carry with me for a long, long time. I learned these lessons because of my running, and the relationships I've formed because of and through it.



Wait, I have an 11) Sense of self. Running is part of the definition of me, of who I am. It was a struggle to lose that for a while, and I'm still working to get it back. As a runner, I feel like I have a focus -- and in my crazy life, that is sustaining.

Back to the Sleeves

This past week my calf was feeling weak again. I'm not sure why -- and it's part of what has been making me nervous. I don't want to keep worrying if I'll ever regain solid strength in my leg, but I'm reminded of just how much my muscles were broken down with the Graston work.

I took the picture above to show the sleeves I'm wearing again to help my calf feel supported as it continues to heal. But if you look closely, you can see what I've seen for months now. Look at my left leg. Now look at my right. See the sharp definition of my calf muscle on the right? On the inside of my leg? Now look at the left. See how the definition isn't as sharp? There's a little bump under the calf muscle. It's been like this since the Graston work.

I'm afraid it'll be like that forever.

My calf muscles were something that stood out about me. Big legs. Defined muscles. I've joked about how my legs look a bit much in heels with that definition, but truly, I've liked having them. Now I'm sad they aren't the same. I'm worried that left calf will never be the same.

I need to be disciplined in my strengthening exercises. I'll use the sleeves for a bit to help with some support while I'm running. And I hope all of this continued healing gets my definition back.

To be or not to be...

...nervous, that is...

My running has been improving. My running fitness is shot -- mainly because of the time off, partly because of a sinus thing I've been dealing with --but my running is improving. I'm slowing increasing my mileage, and I'm not running more than 3 days in a row at a time. I'm not sure if I'm being too conservative with my mileage, I'm fairly certain I'm not being too aggressive, but I think I'm somewhere in the middle.

And yet, at any given moment, one or more of the following thoughts are going through my mind:
my leg's going to tighten up again
nope, you went through all that pain of the Graston to fix it
but it's still weak
but the running and the exercises will strengthen it
but what if it doesn't ever get back to it's true strength
but why wouldn't it
I don't want to push it because I don't want it to tighten up again
it won't
it might
i really hope it doesn't
maybe I need to push beyond what I think is safe
maybe I'm doing it right
what if it tightens up again
maybe it won't
I hope it won't

and so it goes. All the time.

I think I'm doing ok, but I haven't ever dealt with an injury like this. I almost wish I could get another MRI that could show me that the muscles are healed, so that I have a stronger sense that it's going to be ok.

But in the absence of that, I have to just believe that because I've done everything all the doctors have told me, it will be fine. My leg will continue to get stronger, my fitness will improve, and I won't have to be nervous.

Car vs. Deer

Like I needed something else to add to the F'd up year 2010 has been, a gigantic buck decided to jump in front of my car on my way home from my sister's on Tuesday evening. Now, if I lived in a particulary rural area, or if I were on a long stretch of uninhabited road, this might not seem all that unusual. But I don't, and I wasn't. I was driving through a very residental area when it happened. 6:30 pm, and because of the time change, it was already dark out. There is a small park area nearby, but this deer came out of someone's yard and attempted to cross the street just as I was passing by. It happened so fast, I barely had time to react.

Even as I slammed on my brakes, I knew the deer would be hit. Most of the hit was on the front right turn-signal area of the car, but the size of the buck -- it had antlers! -- meant that the entire front of my car would sustain damage. I watched as the deer rebounded off my grill, slid across the road, and then miraculously hopped up and, though you could tell it's hind left leg was injured, ran back into the neighborhood, closer to the wooded area.

Heart pounding out of my chest, I put on my hazzards and just sat there. Another motorist who saw the whole thing happen (it was near an intersection) pulled over to see if I was ok. Since I was unhurt, he gave me his card and went on his way. I called the police and within minutes they were there. 3 of them. Must've been a slow night.

I told them what happened, they wrote the report, and I headed home. The car was driveable, but pretty banged up. I wouldn't even know until the next morning, in the daylight, just how much damage was done.

These pictures barely show the full situation. There are 4 cracks in the grill, hood bent, brackets broken inside the grill and under the hood, lights broken, the wheel well disjointed, and more.

So now I'm in the process of getting the estimates, repair work, rental car, and insurance stuff taken care of. I've driven around that area twice to see if I could see a huge, injured deer. Nothing so far, so I hope he's healing and not suffering.

Busy Week

Oof -- what a busy, busy week. I finished physical therapy on Tuesday, had parent conferences M/T/W, off from work but headed to the shore Thursday, worked all day at the running store on Friday and Saturday, and worked the water stop at the Cooper Norcross 10k Bridge Run this morning. The latter part of the week was all good -- I haven't been to the shore in a bunch of weeks and the running store was really, really busy as race central. But I'm still not sleeping much, and now I'm beat.

My running's been good -- I worked up to a consecutive 3 miles, and I'll do that a few times over the next week or so before I pop it up some more. I need to force myself to continue to do the leg strengthening exercises I learned at PT, but so far the calf is feeling ok. Whew.

Today's race is one that our store is heavily involved with. In addition to registration, packet pick-up, and acting as race central, we are also responsible for the water stop near the 5 mile mark. Every year we layer up, grab coffee (I bring bagels for everyone, too), and our H2O shirts (and one chicken costume),

and get set up for nearly 4000 runners.

It's cold, it's early, and it's work, but it's fun -- even at the end of a very busy week.

Back to MCM

My mom, sister and I travelled to Washington, DC this weekend for the Marine Corps Marathon. I didn't run it. My sister did.

I loved this race in 2008. I didn't race it -- I ran it slowly with a friend to simply enjoy the day, so I don't consider this one when I talk about trying to break that 4 hour mark. For me, MCM wasn't about my time.

This year, I registered for MCM when my sister said she wanted to run it. Then my leg got all pissy and I transfered my bib to a customer at the running store. I knew I'd travel to DC to support and cheer on my sister, but I also knew that would be tough.

After a slightly uncomfortable train ride and a trip to the expo, we eventually walked our way from our hotel room, across the Key Bridge, into Georgetown, to a restaurant called Clyde's. The food was fantastic, and the glass of wine I had was greatly needed. I was so disappointed to not be running! To make up for it, I ate a ton of delicious food and almost licked the last drop of wine out of my glass. We marvelled at that evening's sunset, and went to bed early.

After much tossing and turning -- both for the mental frustrations of the weekend AND the roll-away mattress that felt like a box-spring -- I awoke, dressed, and we headed out. My back was hurting, and my feet would hurt by the end of the day, but at least it would be a crisp, sunny, fall day to enjoy being outside.

The weather was perfect (of course). Cool at the start (about 48*) and only heading up to about 58* by the finish. Sunny, clear skies. Perfect. Something I can't seem to ever experience.

We walked to the start and had plenty of time to kill. (We weren't sure how long of a walk it would be.) Eventually, though, the corrals filled and we wished A luck and made our way to the hilltop to watch the thousands of runners await the start.

I got teary as the cannon signaled the runners to begin their journey. This was so hard to watch and not be a part of! I wanted my sister to have a good day, but I was depressed that I couldn't take advantage of great weather at a marathon for a change. I wiped the tears, clapped my hands, and tried not to be so focused on what I can't seem to do.

My mom and I walked over the Arlington Cemetery Bridge and took in the sights, and then planted ourselves to await the runners.

We found my sister around the 10 mile mark and again at 16, and both times she looked good. And despite finding ourselves at the perfect spot on the hill up to the finish at the Iwo Jima memorial, we missed her.

Grr. While we were now, at the 4:10 mark, thinking she was having a rough day and hadn't finished yet, she was weaving her way through the finish area, over to the beer garden and the free phones. My cell rang, and it was her. "Where are you? What time did you finish?" I asked.

"3:51 something," she replied. "Meet me at the beer garden."

My mom and I were frustrated that we never saw her at the finish. We were right there! But now we had to make our way through the monster crowds to find her. As we did, I took it all in -- the memories of my day there, the frustrations of my own 26.2 races, the great luck my sister seems to have with her races (the weather, a better finish at this MCM, etc), the second sub-4 marathon she's run, my recent return to running and hoping my leg continues to get and stay strong. All of it.

This was a difficult weekend -- physically and emotionally. It was nice to spend time with my mom and sister, and I am happy for my sister that she had a good day. Somehow she fits it all in and has great success. But I was drained by Sunday afternoon. It was a tough return to the Marine Corps Marathon. I couldn't wait to get home.

A SNORKLE?!

I went to the salt water pool today. My PT had said I could run yesterday and today before seeing her again tomorrow, but I knew 3 days in a row of running was enough. Yes, the running was only 10 minutes or so, but it was 3 days in a row. Smarter thing to do is not run today, so I swam instead.

Got to the pool, took the last lane available against the wall, and scoped out who I was sharing the pool with. Two older ladies swimming nice and slow, and an older guy -- also swimming nice and slow.

But wait! What's that? Is he really? Is that? Seriously?!

He's swimming laps with a snorkle?!!!

Hilarious! Intriguing! Brilliant?

I'd never heard of this... someone actually swimming laps with a snorkle. I guess it makes sense -- swimming long, you exert more energy by having to turn to breathe. Fascinating idea.

But not one I think I need to try. As intriguing as it seems, and as efficient as it must be, I'll have to swim my tri's without one (right? Is there a rule about this?) so I'll stick to practicing without one.

***Hold on. I just googled this. Apparently, swim training with a snorkle is akin to altitude training for runners (when used with some cap???). It forces the lungs to work harder and increases lung capacity. Huh. Maybe it really is something to consider!

"I don't want to see you again"

So said the doc at my appointment yesterday.

He asked me a few questions about the PT I've been doing and how my leg's been feeling since I saw him last, and then he felt my left leg.

"This one's the good one, right?" he asked, as both his hand were wrapped around my left calf.

Ha! Nope, I replied. The right one's the good one.

He grabbed my right leg, then my left again. "Huh. Well, it feels good."

Really?! Yay! I'll take it!

He reminded me to take it easy increasing my mileage, and I admitted I realized this past week that my leg wasn't ready to run 3 weeks ago. I'll take it easy, I told him. I wanna keep running.

We decided going to PT a few more times would be good -- that way I can continue to strengthen my leg as I return to regular running. Then he told me to call him in a month to let him know that I'm feeling good. He doesn't expect to see me again.

Sweet.

Today I ran (per my PT's instructions) two separate miles. Walked 10 minutes, ran easy for 10 minutes (just over a mile), walked 2 minutes, ran another 10 minutes, walked 10 minutes. It felt good -- and other than muscle soreness in my quads from the PT work yesterday, my legs didn't bother me at all.

Slowly, easily, after almost 8 weeks off, I'm returning to running.
I'm so ready.

Smoother riding, please

I've been biking a lot over the past few months. I'd rather be running, but since I can't, riding at least gets me active outside so I can enjoy the fresh air after work. This time of year the air is crisp, the colors are vibrant, and the temps vary from comfortable to chilly. I love soaking all that in.

What I don't love are the streets around here. They are terrible. It's actually amazing how poor the road conditions are. Holes, bumps, sandy dirt, rocks, patches. Terrible.

I'm stuck, though, because there really isn't a great place to ride -- most of the riding I do is around town (staying in residential areas as much as possible) and around a 3.6 mile river loop. I could ride long, vacant roads if I headed about 30 minutes toward the beach, but since I ride alone and they are pretty secluded, it's not something I feel comfortable doing most of the time. So I try to enjoy the blue sky and the water I ride by and everything I see.

Except for the roads themselves.

A smooth ride. That's what I want. I want to breathe in the fresh air, soak up the sunshine, enjoy the blue skies, the flowing water of the river, the vibrant colors of the leaves. And I want to have a smooth ride.

Swimming hands

I was determined to do a long, relaxed swim today. After getting to run, as minimal of a time as it was, for the past three days, I knew I should give my left calf a break today. No biking, no walking. Just swim. I didn't have a time limit, so I wanted to do a good, solid, swim.

I slipped into the pool and looked at the clock. 3pm. I started swimming, mostly easy laps, and before I knew it I was at 1000 yards. I threw some faster laps in and decided to alternate some fast and slow laps to get me to 2000 yards. When I hit 2000, I took a break and looked at the clock. 3:39 pm. (I know that's not fast for some of you who read this blog -- but without swimming hard the whole way, it was a pretty solid swim for me.)

And after adjusting my goggles, I took a look at my hands. They were so wrinkly! How do people swim for sooooooooo much longer than this? Do their hands get all wrinkly, too? Or after a while do your hands have a higher tolerance to the water and take longer to wrinkle?

I thought about the wrinkles for the next 500 yards. I vowed to take a picture of my hands when I got out of the pool. I wondered how long it would be until they unwrinkled.

I swam another 500 yards, and decided that was enough for today. I was getting hungry and, quite frankly, a little bored. And I was starting to get nervous that my hands might be wrinkled until Saturday. 3:59 pm. Not bad for 3000 yards and a (very) short break in the middle.

Unfortunately, I didn't get to take the picture of my hands all wrinkly -- by the time I got from the pool to the shower to dressed, the wrinkles weren't as pronounced. And I thought the other women in the locker room might question what I was doing with a camera...

But if you look closely in the pictures above, you can see some swimming hands anyway -- hands that swam farther today than they ever have before.

12 minutes

For the first time since the very first week in September, I ran outside today. My PT wanted me to run on the softer surface of the local high school track to see how my leg felt because tomorrow may be my last appointment with her. I didn't have the butterflies or nervousness that I had when I ran for the first time in PT after 4 weeks off -- I didn't worry if I would forget how to run, I didn't have that adrenaline surge from the thought of getting to run after such a long time off. What I did have was excitement. Hope. Anticipation.

And then I got to the track.

And so did the entire high school football team. And the cross-country team.

And I lost the excitement, hope and anticipation, and became self-conscious.

I've been resigned to the fact that I've gained some weight and my clothes aren't fitting so well. I just turned 39 a few days ago -- so I'm feeling older, too. Great combination. Put me out on a track, running slowly, for all these young kids to see me and I wanted to run out the gate.

But I didn't -- and I got the 3 intervals done. And my leg didn't hurt. And I got to breathe in the fresh air and appreciate the crisp temperatures.

And so, for the 12 minutes of running, while the entire football team and cross-country team watched, I was happy.

I get to run outside tomorrow.

Same interval-type run as what I've been doing in PT the past few sessions, but outside, by myself, on the track.

5 mins walking + 3x (4 mins run, 1 min walk) + 5 mins walking.

Small run.

Big deal.

I can't wait.

Progress! shhh...

Don't say anything out loud. In fact, forget you even read this when you're done.

I don't want to jinx it, but I might finally be seeing some progress with my leg.

SHHH!

Monday, I did 5 minutes of walking, then 3x 3 minutes of running at a 10 minute pace with 1.5 minutes of walking in between, then 5 minutes of walking. Leg felt good -- no pain, no tightness.

SHHH!

Today, at PT, I did 3 minutes walking, then 3x 4 minutes of running at a 10 minute pace with 1 minute of walking in between, then 3 minutes of walking. With NO pain, no tightness, no weak feeling in my leg! WooHoo!

I mean SHHHHHHHHHH!

See, today was the first day I really felt like maybe, just maybe, my leg might be getting better.
But if I say it out loud, I might jinx it. So, shhh...

10.10.10

Great date, huh? I heard today was supposed to be a good day for stuff -- relationships, luck, etc.

Well, it didn't affect me in the relationship realm. Or in the luck area. It was a beautiful day at the beach, though. And that was tough, too, because today was the LBI 18 Mile Run -- the race I PR'd in last year in my solid fall of training.

I didn't run today. I wanted to, and it was difficult to watch/hear everyone out there. But instead of just hopping from mile marker to mile marker with my parents in the car, I decided to make it my workout. On the bike.

I rode the length of the race today, sprinting ahead to cheer on some really fast friends, and then waiting for my sister, and then sprinting ahead, and then getting a breather while waiting for A. It's not that she was really slow -- she was running the race as part of her last long run, though, for MCM -- it was that the guys were really fast. Two of them were 3rd and 4th overall, the others finished in the top 30 I think.

It was tough to be on the sidelines. I cheered hard, though, and supported my people. And then, as I normally do, I took my last dip in the ocean for the season.

Though the air was cool, the ocean was warm. I was the only one in it. :) A good way to end a tough day on a unique date.

3 more weeks.

That's what the sports medicine doctor told me today in the follow-up appointment. Three more weeks of PT and Graston. Three more weeks of no running on my own.

He knows I walked on the TM and then walked/jogged (in short intervals) on the TM at therapy last week, and wants me to continue to progress with that under the PT supervision only. He wasn't mean, and he wasn't overly nice, but he was very matter-of-fact. He thinks I'm dealing with tendinopathy, and said his focus is to get me healthy and then back to running. Too soon, and I'll be dealing with this all over again.

Ok, ok. I get it.

I guess the good thing is that I get to run today (did 2 intervals of 2 minutes!) and Thursday this week, then Monday andThursday next week, then Monday, Wednesday and one more day the following week before I see Dr. Plut again on the 25th.

Yep, I'm counting the days/runs.

What if I forget?

My achilles has been feeling tight every morning this week when I get out of bed. I walk to the bathroom and hope it loosens up. I wonder why this week -- after all these weeks of no running, after all these sessions with the physical therapist -- I wonder why this week my achilles (not even my calf!) feels tight. I wonder, and I'm frustrated.

Someone suggested it might be because we're having a super-humid, rainy week. Someone else suggested it is my other muscles taking over for the ones that have been the focus.

Whatever it is, it's been making me wonder all week if I'll ever run again. And when I do, will I remember how?

Today, at PT, I got stretched, strengthened, scraped, and stretched again. I talked with my PT about my follow-up appointment with the sports med doc on Monday. And then my PT said, "Ok, let's get you on the treadmill." This wasn't news -- I'd walked on the TM for 10 minutes on Tuesday. But what K said next made my heart skip:

"We'll even get you running -- no, jogging -- for a little bit, too."

What!? Really!? Don't tease me. Seriously?

WAIT! What if I forget how to run? What if my arms don't work or I trip over my own feet? What if I lost my coordination? What if I look like Phoebe on Friends running down the street with my arms flailing all over the place!?

I was sweating, my heart was skipping, I felt like a kid on Christmas.

And I was nervous. My leg isn't 100%. I compare it to how the right leg feels -- which has zero problems -- and I know my left achilles/calf isn't 100%. I was nervous that my body wouldn't remember how to run, and I was hesitant to run when I knew I've been still feeling some tightness.

But my PT wanted to see how my leg reacted so she could send me to the doc on Monday with an update on my progress. So, like a kid trying out her new bike for the first time, I excitedly and with some trepidation made my way over to the treadmill.

I walked for 2 minutes, and my leg still felt some leftover crankiness -- not strong tightness, but something. But it didn't get worse. And then K came over and said, ok -- now let's jog for one minute.

Yayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayay! I get to jog! Ten minute pace, and it was pretty good. A little over a minute. Leg didn't get any worse -- still just a touch of crankiness.

And then I walked for 2 more minutes, and then I jogged for 2 more minutes. Leg actually felt better in this second run. Then I finished with 2 minutes of walking.

It may have only been a test, and it may have only been a few minutes, but I didn't forget. I didn't forget. It may have been slow, but I ran -- and I didn't forget how.

And in those few minutes I was happier than I've been in weeks.

Perseverence

Into the Wind: The Terry Fox Story was on ESPN tonight. I remember watching this story, and the original movie made about him, when I was little. It was amazing then, it's amazing now.

The ESPN show is moving. It's inspirational. It honors his perseverence. Catch the replay of it if you can on ESPN2 or ESPN classic.

My calf/achilles problem is a speedbump. I know that, even when it feels like my life is falling apart around me. Terry Fox ran on one leg for 3,339 miles in 143 days. In cotton shorts, socks, and t-shirts, I might add. Through the summer heat and humidity.

My problem is a speedbump, no matter how devastating it feels to me.

In the ESPN film, Terry says, "You hope and you pray that it'll work out for the best." For him, the cancer won -- but his work was recognized, appreciated, and valued. This is a story that should inspire perseverence in everyone.

Stripping down

Harsh honesty ahead.

Perhaps the one thing I dreaded the most with my time off of running has now come to be. When I strip down to naked, I don't like what I see.

Growing up, I always battled with my weight. I was always heavier and rounder than my twin. I was heavier in HS and college. It wasn't until I left Time Warner at the age of almost 23 that I got into shape and lost weight and became slimmer. And I've still battled with my weight ever since.

My comfortable weight is about 118-120. My racing weight has gotten as low as 114. When I get above 120, I get nervous. I'm not as comfortable in my clothes, I'm not as comfortable in my own skin.

When I get above 120, it's a quick road to 125, 128, even higher. I've been there, and I don't like it. When I get above 120, I'm reminded of those years when I was heavy, and I was unhealthy, and it scares me. It's so easy to get above 120. It's so easy to gain weight.

These days, I'm hovering around 123. My stomach is softer. My legs are thicker. My chest is bigger. Maybe not to the eyes of anyone else, but that's because I hide it. Or I try to.


Now, if anyone reading this starts getting frustrated or annoyed that I'm complaining - or lamenting - about weighing 123 pounds, I'll tell you this: you aren't me. You might want to skip the rest of this post. This is about stripping down. This is honesty. I was going to post a picture, but it freaks me out to have an almost-naked picture of me on the internet. Still, you can't convince me I look ok, or that 123 pounds isn't bad.

123 pounds is a knock on the door of the fatter, younger, heavy-drinker, bad-boyfriend-chooser that I was.
123 pounds is pants that are tighter, shirts that are more revealing, clothes that are uncomfortable.
123 pounds is more inches around the waist, more inches around the chest, more inches around the thighs.
123 pounds is a lack of confidence, a catalyst for sadness.
123 pounds might as well be 150, or 200, or more.

It doesn't matter that I eat healthy. It doesn't matter that I'm swimming, biking, and sometimes elliptical-ing six days a week, plus the physical therapy work. Nothing has slimmed me down in the past like running has. And so, when I had to give up running, this -- the gaining of weight -- was the thing that bothered me about it the most.

Yes, I am frustrated that I can't get out and enjoy a run in the cooler temperatures. Yes, I'm highly disappointed that I won't be racing this fall. Yes, I'm beside myself that I don't have running as my stress-reliever.

But most of all, when I strip it all down, I'm more than frustrated. I'm scared, I'm nervous, and I'm unhappy. Because I have the impossible task of trying to burn more calories than I'm taking in, and I'm losing.

I need to run. Tomorrow, the scale will likely read 124.



*note: I understand that my esteem and my happiness shouldn't depend on my weight and my body image. I understand that. I also understand that this is (hopefully) temporary. But today, this week, this is how I'm feeling. So be it.

Physical Therapy, MRI, and Graston

Over the past two weeks, I've been poked, prodded, studied, x-ray'd, ultrasounded, MRI'd, scraped, and rehab'd. I've biked, swam, and even suffered on the elliptical (that thing is sweat-producing, but BORING! and my toes go numb!)

What I haven't done is run. At all. So I'm hoping things are on the mend.

Last week, I went to an ART treatment on Monday, began Physical Therapy and Graston on Tuesday, PT and Graston again on Wednesday where they added electrical stimulation, and PT/Graston/electrical stuff PLUS the MRI on Friday.

At today's PT, I learned the results of the MRI.

A partial tear of the medial head of the gastrocnemius muscle and tendon.

Not entirely shocking. That pop I heard twice this summer? A symptom of such an injury. One of the causes? Overuse. No wonder it wasn't getting and staying better this summer.

My PT said that while I still need to speak with my doc about these results, she doesn't plan to alter our course of therapy. She made me nervous about her knowledge the first day I met her, but since then, I've come to respect her ability. She HURT me Day 1 with the Graston technique work she did, and she bruises me every time I'm there, but I get the sense that the scar tissue/knotty stuff is breaking up. She uses these metal/stainless steel/whatever butter-knife-without-a-blade things, and literally scrapes (no blade) up and down the muscles of my lower leg. Like rubbing a metal ruler across your muscles and shin. Holy Moly I've never felt something so painful.

It makes me squirm. I sweat through my shirt and shorts. I beg her, silently, to stop. But she keeps working it and working it, and believe it or not, I do get the sense it's breaking up the bad stuff.

After the PT strengthening exercises, the stretching she does to me, and the Graston, she sticks 3 small, rectangular electric pads to my leg and for 10-15 minutes, my leg jumps up and down as the heartbeat of electric stimultion increases the blood flow to my damaged muscles.

The bruises are colorful, the swelling lingers, and icing doesn't seem to do much. But hopefully all of this, plus the time off from running, WILL do lots. I hope it brings me back stronger and smarter. I hope it lets me run for the rest of my life.

It's not the 4 weeks that sucks so much...

...it's the fact that I've lost my fall racing. That's what I have to keep telling people when they say, "It's only 4 weeks, then you'll be even stronger!"

I know, I know. All of this is so that I can run for the rest of my life -- because ultimately that's what's important to me.

But it really sucks to know that my better racing happens in the fall, and this fall is now worthless to me. I don't get to enjoy the cooling temps. I don't get to see a strong training round through to a marathon that won't be in 85* temps. I'm missing good races. Everyone else is progressing around me.

I spent 60 boring minutes on the elliptical today. At least I got a pretty good sweat working. Then I jumped in the pool for 1000 yards. Not much, but it's something.

I've been finding myself staring at runners when I pass them on the road. I slow down my bike or my car and watch. I note how their form looks. I silently applaud them. I'm jealous of them -- even those, maybe especially those, who seem to be struggling. I want to be them. All of them.

I also marvel at those who seem to continually improve and excel each and every time they get out there. I wish my body was stronger, like theirs. I spent much of today watching/following Charisa kick ass at Ironman Wisconsin, and got emotional as I watched her finish with a big smile on her face. 5th overall female. Amazing.

I want to race. I want to be happy about my racing. I tasted a bit of that last fall, and I'm bummed I'm missing the chance this fall. But most of all, I just want to run. So I'll deal with the next (hopefully only) 4 weeks, and I'll do what I need to do to get my leg stronger so I can run for the rest of my life.

A month.

I spent the whole day with doctors today. Met with a sports med doc that was recommended, and he ordered a whole bunch of tests. Went from his office to an x-ray place, got that done and took the films back to the doc. Bones are good (no shit -- I KNOW this is muscular). The nurse at the doc's was trying to set up an MRI, but that won't happen till next week. From the doc's, I went to a hospital in Camden for an ultrasound to make sure I don't have blood clots. I don't (NO SHIT! THIS IS MUSCULAR!). Then I spent the next 15 minutes on the phone with the Physical Therapy place, where the doc wants me to go 2-3x's a week (as if $ is growing on trees for me with all these copays) for therapy that includes Graston stuff and other things. He thinks I may have torn something and then overused it or something and the scar tissue is wreaking havoc. Or something like that.

I broke down in tears when he told me he doesn't want me to run until he sees me again. In a month.
I did. I broke down in tears right there in the office.
He said, "I know, this is hard. I understand."
I told him, "I appreciate that, but you don't understand. This has been the hardest year of my life. I've dealt with death, a broken relationship, criminal behavior against me, screwed up work stuff, and a failed marathon -- just to name a few. I need to run."

He didn't know what to say. He handed me a tissue.

So, that's it. I know I should look for the good. I know I'm not terminally ill, my family's ok, and I can still bike/swim/whatever.

But I need to run.

Losing my identity

Running has been my escape. My stress-reliever, my challenge, my focus. It has been my source of accomplishment and struggle. It has been what I do, who I am.

This summer, I've struggled with an on-going left calf/achilles issue. I've gone to 3 different people about it. I have been massaged, activated, manipulated, ART'ed, taped, and compression sleeved. I've gotten better, I've gotten worse, and now I'm in the stalled, not-getting-better state. I get worked on, get things loosened up, try to run as the doc prescribes, and the achilles tightens up again. I can't run right now.

I have had to bail out of 2 races already -- a 5k that all my running store friends run, and a triathlon (last post) that I did the first 2 legs of and then walked off the course. I planned on running the Philadelphia Distance Run (now the Rock 'n Roll Philadelphia Half Marathon) on September 19. Can't now. I started training this summer for the Philadelphia Marathon in November -- hoping to have a good fall race. Can't now. I can't even run more than a mile this week without my gait altered and my leg hurting.

These days, I'm no longer a runner. No running to relieve my stress, no races to look forward to, no part of my day I look forward to like I had. I feel my identity slipping away.

People have tried to tell me that running isn't who I am -- it's only part of who I am. Family, friends -- they all remind me of this. They remind me I'm not battling a terminal disease. They tell me this is temporary and I should just focus on other parts of my life. I appreciate that, and I know all those things are true, but not being able to run cuts me.

Yes, I've been doing other things. I swim, I bike, I do core work, I walk (when my achilles allows). But none of these work up the heart rate, the sweat, or keep the pounds off like running does. None of them balance my mind like running does. None of them are enough.

I have an appointment with a sports medicine doctor on Thursday. I can't imagine he'll do anything that will get me running strong on Friday, so I'm only partially excited about seeing him. What I hope for is some answers on why this is such a nagging, frustrating issue, and what I can do to be able to run again.

I need my identity back.

Partially Tri-ing

Last Wednesday evening, as I was slowly warming up for a local 5k race, my left achilles seized up BAD and I had to stop. Could barely limp my way .7mi back to the start, and as I did, I felt a pop -- not a rupture pop, but a flick of a guitar string pop, like a ligament shifted across something.

Whatever it was, whatever the (still unknown) cause, I was beside myself. I had just gotten to a point where I thought I was on the almost-healed route. I drowned my frustrated, sorry ass in some beers with friends that night, and then saw the ART guy the next day. I was in pain, and I told him to take it easy on me. I really needed him to confirm what I thought -- that it wasn't a rupture, that it was something he could help me with. He did, and he did.

But I still couldn't run. I saw him again before the weekend, and he told me not to run until Monday. Since I could barely walk without a limp even 3 days after it seized up, I was resigned to this being what I had to do. However, I was supposed to do the only sprint triathlon I was registered for this summer on Saturday, and I was disappointed I wouldn't be able to run. I contemplated not doing it at all.

And then I realized that for me, the run is the easy part. It's always the swim and the bike that present the challenge for me in a tri. So I'll do those. I would start the race, and walk off the course after the bike.

I arrived at the Medford Lakes Triathlon relaxed and ready to go. It really stunk to set up my transition 1 stuff, and know that I wouldn't need anything for a T2, but I knew I was making the right decision. It is more important for me to baby my achilles now so that I can run for the rest of my life. I can sacrifice this race for that.

I ran into a teaching coworker who was doing her first tri, and helped her get situated. She was REALLY new at this -- and didn't know what to take to the swim start, how to set up her transition area, or even that she had to wear the swim cap she was given. I got her ready, wished her luck, and stepped into the water to await my wave start.

The water was warm, the lake looked calm, and I knew this would be a piece of cake. A 400 meter swim was nothing. I'm still a pretty weak swimmer in my own mind, so I positioned myself off the back and to the left, where I thought I'd get some clean water.

And then we started, and within the first two minutes, I was already frustrated. All the 39 and younger women, of all different levels and abilities. Grr. Man, I suck at this swimming-in-races thing. I had a million things racing in my head the whole time: move left, there's clean water! Breathe, dammit! This isn't that hard! Ack! move right now, this isn't clean anymore! Eww, shave your legs, lady! That stubble is scratching me up! Whoa! If you're gonna do backstroke, at least try to look where you're going! Breathe, Lora, you've done this before! Stop acting like you haven't! Wait! That guy's cute, but why is he treading water without his goggles on? Ok, almost done, swim it in and finish this thing! Remember to suck in your tummy as you get out -- you chose to swim with just your shorts and bra top today! Ok, there's the beach. Get to your bike, but remember, no running!

After a ridiculous effort, I finished the swim and had a long walk to my bike. This was a great course, but the transition was a really long, thin, area. I walked the whole thing, because I'm not running right now (double GRR!) and so I finally got to my bike and headed out.

The bike course (13ish miles) was a good one. Some good rolling hills, a nice area, and I got in a good groove. I was feeling VERY good about my bike (usually a weakness for me) and ended up with a great-for-me bike leg, averaging 18mph. As I got to the dismount area, I was disappointed that I would not be doing the run, but I held fast to my plan. I walked my bike to my rack, packed up my gear, and walked my bike out of transition and over to the finish line. A couple people commented, she's done already? and I had to tell them, no, I wasn't doing the run leg. :( I handed my chip in, watch the finish for a little bit, and headed home.

I'm glad I had the ability to do what was best for me, but man it stunk to not finish that race. It was a great course, and it seems they had a very successful first triathlon there. I'd go back next year, for sure.

And now, after more serious, sweating-inducing ART work the past few days, the achilles is slowly loosening up and I'm starting to run again. Partial running, that is -- walk some, run some, repeat.

Across America

Arriving in Minnesota, I quickly learned that this state was going to look just like I'd pictured. Lots of wide open sky, lakes, and paths for running/biking. My first time in this state, and I loved it right away.

Shawn and I went for a short run around Lake Calhoun, and I learned that no one lives more than 6 blocks from a park. How cool is that?

The lake was clear and people were swimming, and you could see downtown across the way.

After running the Urban Wildland Half Marathon with my friend Cindi, we had a BBQ at my hosts' house. Shawn and Brandy were very generous, inviting me to stay with them and showing me around the Twin Cities. Spending time with my friends Melissa and Sage just added to how great this stop on my trip across America would be. I got to see the Mississippi River for the first time, as well as the Colorado where the bridge collapsed several years ago, and see some of St. Paul, too.

We rented these cool bikes and rode all over the university and ballpark and city areas. I ended my fantastic time in Minnesota with a delicious local beer and a thick, rich malt. (My first one!)

Monday morning Shawn dropped me off to the airport and I made my way to Vegas.

After checking out the strip and checking into my terrific room at Bally's (right across from the Bellagio fountains!), I drove 40 minutes outside the city to the Hoover Dam.

It was amazing. So big and massive and filled with history. I walked around on my own a bit and then hopped into a short tour where I got to go inside the dam and see the inner workings.

After making my way back to the Strip, I went for a short run, got some dinner, and checked out all the ornate, illuminated, over-the-top things Vegas had to offer.

I saw an Elvis, Wonder Woman, Edward Scissorhands, Showgirls and more. I played some slots and won a few bucks. I went to bed psyched to have seen this part of America and excited for what my next leg of my trip would bring.

The drive through the Mojave Desert was awesome. Amazing. Incredible. The wide, open land, the ghost towns along the way, the landscape, the elevation changes. With a headcold raging, that last part wasn't so fun, but this drive was so cool. It's tough to put into words -- there is a magnificent simplicity to this part of our country.

I arrived in Santa Monica, the only familiar place on this trip, and breathed in the Pacific Ocean.I love it here, and this time I was going to get to visit with an old high school friend I'd lost touch with over the years. Thanks to Facebook we connected last year, and this would be the first I'd seen her in more than 15 years.

Laurie was the same and better. She was fun, she was more at peace, she was happy, and she still felt like my sister. We got dinner together all three nights I was there, and she got out of work early on the second day and we rode bikes all over -- from SM through Venice, to Marina Del Rey. I met her lovely wife, we laughed, we reminisced, we vowed never to lose touch again.
I spent my last day in California running along the beach, soaking in some sunshine, going for a long, leisurely bike ride, and breathing in all that this coast has. Then I met Laurie for dinner one last time.

As I boarded my red-eye for my flight home to the east coast, and giggled at Laurie's late text that said, simply, "Don't go!" I realized what an adventure this week had been. I saw new places, I did new things, I visited with good friends. I skipped across America, and loved it.