Archive | August, 2011

I Got a Strange Disease

30 Aug

Days to Race: 33

Days since last workout: 4

Scheduled: 6.5 mile tempo

Actual: 6.62 miles, 1h:07m:35s

Tempo: Not so much. I tried. I really did…but not so much

Camelback: Annoying to carry….but I probably would have died without it.

Cookies and Milk: Should DEFINITELY be saved for AFTER the run

Attitude: Poisonous

Anger Sharks: Are circling

Song for today: Strange Disease oh, and THIS

Cursing in this post: Hide the kids. There will be a fucking lot. I’m in a shitty mood and am NOT a goddamn lady. You’ve been warned.

Summer: Fuck you. No, seriously. Fuck. You.

Miche and Nikko: Kept me going till the finish. Nikko…Thanks for making me think about Terminator penis the whole run ;p and Miche, you actually made me start running again when I had decided to say fuck it and walk home a whole interval.

I have a spectator party pass for the race up for grabs if anyone wants to come cheer us on and have some late night fun.

You know, it is REALLY frustrating to be unable to see/feel improvements in my running after 4 months of HARD training and actually go BACKWARDS in progress because Florida keeps ratcheting up the heat and humidity. It is such a complete struggle to EXIST outside, let alone run, let alone accomplish a TEMPO run that’s worth a damn. Fuck summer and fuck this place. The thing that killed me tonight was that it was one of those sneaky nights where the temp isn’t THAT bad (82) and the humidity wasn’t THAT bad (83%), but the moisture was hanging close to the ground and it felt like I was choking on every breath.

My attitude and lack of athletic performance could also have something to do with the fact that I am on VERY unstable hormonal and emotional ground lately, so it’s all I can do to get up in the morning, keep my tongue in check and not cry or cockpunch someone. I didn’t work out at all over the weekend, save for riding and mowing the grass. So sue me. I just wasn’t feeling it, unless of course we’re talking about heart palpitations and dizziness, because I was feeling that plenty. I stayed in, parked my ass on the couch and played video games all weekend. The training schedule can blow me.

This is not a healthy attitude to have 1 month from race day (or ever, really). I actually got an email from Disney with my waiver and the final information packet for the race. It’s time to be super-the-fucking-serious-est and stick on the program. Somehow, though, I don’t fucking care and I can’t help it. I’m just angry. Really really angry and frustrated and lacking in the motivational department to do anything but lay in bed and sulk and punch pillows. And the runs aren’t helping because they just feel painful and shitty and I’m not able to get the endorphins I REALLY need, which just gives my mood an extra punch in the dick. Yes. My mood has a dick, and right now it’s shriveled and blue and angry.

I set my garmin for 5 minute run, 1 minute rest intervals. I had every intention of doing 1 or 2 warmup rounds and then hammering into some 8:00/m paced tempo sets for at least 6 sets and using the rest to jog, not walk. I did the warmup set and spent a lot of that adjusting the camelback because in order for it to be tight enough to not slosh bounce around, the strap was going right across my chest and further constricting my breathing. Like I needed that. So I loosened it a little and pushed the cross strap down under my boobs. Unfortunately, the girls are not exactly “impressive”, so by 10 seconds into the next run set, the strap was back up across my chest, keeping me from expanding my lungs all the way. Super the fucking coolest. There were also extra bits of strap flying around hitting my arms and the padded shoulder straps were rubbing in my armpits. Buuuuuuuutt……I did have water with me. And I am fairly certain I would have passed out in a puddle of my own sweat on the side of the road had I not had it. I drank all 1.5 liters by the time the run was done. Perhaps I will mess with it a bit more before the 10 miler Thursday and see if I can come up with a comfortable solution to wear it.

After the first tempo set, I walked. My lungs were burning and my legs were lead. I couldn’t believe how fast that 1 minute went by. By the third set, my 8:00/m pace had slowed to an 8:30-9:00/m and I was gasping in the walk breaks. Awesome. I’m not even through 2 goddamn miles yet and I already want to sit down on the side of the road and cry until someone comes to pick me up. This is going SUPERGREAT. This is the part where Nikko and Miche come in and make me giggle a little and keep me going. Every time I was just about to go ultrabitch and shut down and head home, one of them would pop in and make me go “AlllllllRiiiiiiiiiiiight……I’m Gooooooooooinnnnggggg” like a whiny-ass teenager. This is also the part where I just unbuckles the camelback and hoped it wouldn’t bounce too much. As I drank more of the water, it actually didn’t bounce much and I could breathe again. Nice. Still not ideal, but much better.

My “tempo” splits became progressively slower and more pathetic as I went. Miles 4 and 5 were in the 11-12 minute range. It was bad. By 6 miles my right quad had locked, my right foot had a blister starting and my right knee was not happy from trying to compensate for the funky stride. The mosquitos were eating me up too, which pissed me off more, because I have read that they can “smell” stress hormones in your blood and don’t like them so will bite you less when you’re stressed. I think this is a load of horseshit, because I can’t get much more stressed and they’re still going after me like a 5 year old goes after the Halloween haul. Fucking things make me look like a crazy flailing along the sidewalk.

I went past the distance because I was so damn tired and heat addled and anger brained that I forgot Endomondo only says something at the whole mile mark and my garmin was set for TIME intervals, not distance, so by the time I checked it, I had run an extra tenth of a mile. Motherfuckberrycocksauce.

I have GOT to get my brain together before the 10 mile run on Thursday night, or that is going to suck A LOT. The upside is my mom bought a bike and basket because she is awesome so she can ride with me and carry water for us, so that should help dramatically both on the conversational distraction side and the being able to have water available side. I am now in bed stewing in angry hell-bitch sauce and trying to figure out how to get myself to sleep. It is now too late to Tylenol PM myself into oblivion, so I am left with reading and Netflix and I REALLY hope one of them works, because this sleep deprivation shit is getting old, too.

Onwa…ah fuck it.

 

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Sink or Swim

27 Aug

For Thursday 8/25/11

Scheduled: 6 mile long run

Actual: 1 mile pool swim 35:00-ish. Didn’t time it exactly.

Difficulty level of swimming to running: More than 6/1. Could be exponential

Gym memberships I now have: 2

Irene: Meant I’d be swimming one way or another. In puddles or in the pool.

This is likely to be a little rambly, so forgive me. Lately this blog is turning into an emotional dump more than a workout tracker. This is late even for being late, I just didn’t have the energy on any front.

Thursday marked the 5 year anniversary of when we lost my sister, Heather in a car accident. Brittany wrote a post about it too, since she was also close to Heather (they were roommates) and this event is really what brought us together as friends. It boggles my mind to think it could possibly be 5 years ago already. It seems like it just happened, but it also seems like an absolute eternity since I saw her. That event changed me in ways only those who have lost someone close can understand. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her. I adopted her cat Hermione, who I love, and I could not have asked for a better reminder of her. As Brittany said, there is me before and me after. They are separate times and separate people. I was tempered in the fire of that loss but came out stronger for it. As horrible as it sounds, I believe that going through losing her is what is allowing me to move through this current upheaval with what little rationality and clarity I am, and what prepared me to be able to look forward, beyond this current heartache, confusion and darkness to what can be in time so that it does not swallow me whole.

When she died, much like now, I had irrational guilt. I was her big sister. I was supposed to look after her. Keep her safe. The fact that I was hundreds of miles away and there was literally NOTHING I could have done was irrelevant, I carried a huge burden of guilt for months over not being able to save her, for being left here, still alive when she was the good one, the one that of the two of us, clearly deserved the second chance more than me. I was a college drop-out screw up. What had she done to deserve this? How could the universe be so completely and totally randomly cruel? Sometimes things do not happen for a reason. Sometimes bad things happen to good people because the clockworks of the universe put them in the wrong place at the wrong time. It took me a long time to be OK with that. I also felt guilty for not being as good a sister to her as I should have been and not keeping in closer contact with her or getting myself in the car and driving up to visit her more often.

That is what eats at me most. That in the last few years of her life, I was nowhere near as close to her as I should have been. We were still growing out of the “Ugh…..*massive eye roll* my sister is completely annoying” phase and just beginning to appreciate each other again. On top of that, I was working 2 jobs, going to school and keeping a house together. These are not excuses at all, but when you’re 22, and death is about as foreign a thought as what the price of Cheetos is in the Sudan, it didn’t matter so much that I hadn’t really talked to her for a month, because we had our whole lives to talk to each other and be family, right? I will forever be grateful that I made a semi-impulsive decision and went up to visit and spend the weekend with her the week before she died. We watched movies, shopped, joked and had a burping contest while trying to go to sleep, just like when we were kids (We’re classy. You don’t even know). She came home a day or 2 later and I got to see her again. We parted with a hug and a promise to buy that shirt we saw on sale if I found it here in her size and to come up and visit again soon.

I have memories from the day like standing at the window at work, watching the torrential rain, with no idea that at that very moment, 160 miles away, that torrential rain was causing a pickup truck to hydroplane. Going to the gym to swim laps, feeling good and joking with the guy at the front counter. Glenn coming home WAY too early from working his night shift saying he needed me to sit down with him so we could call my Dad. I remember not being able to process the words when they came through the speaker phone, the sensation of falling. The wrenching in the pit of my stomach when I finally registered what he had said. I remember being in a daze, telling Glenn I wanted to go to Jacksonville in the middle of the night to be with my family. Looking at the window of my car and seeing the imprint left where she had leaned her forehead on the glass just days earlier and utterly breaking down. Listening to my mother sob in the bathroom of the hotel room. The instant messages left by her fiance asking if she wasn’t answering because she was mad at him. The heartbroken sound that came out of my grandmother when we called to tell her what happened. Things that have been permanently seared into my brain, pieces of this thing that has made me the stronger woman I am.

Since hurricane Irene is passing by the coast and dumping plenty of wind and rain on us, it made me think about that day and her all the more. I was feeling more settled about things between me and Glenn all day since we had a talk, but have been struggling with anger and resentment and how to redefine my feelings for/about him and us. All that wind and rain also meant I wasn’t going to be able to do my 6 miles outside and I REAAALLLLLLY didn’t want to do it on a treamill. Add in my knees feeling a little unhappy after the 5 miles and hills earlier in the week and I decided on a swim. Glenn went with me down to the fancy new-ish Healthplex gym in Viera that he gets a free membership to through his health insurance so I could sign up under his membership and use the pool. Spouses can get a membership there for only $20/month (regularly about $50) and they have a pool, classes, a smoothie bar, indoor running track and a spa-level quality locker room, so I wanted to get a membership while I’m still his wife. I figured having the spinning and yoga classes to get me out of the house and have some human contact would be good for me at least for a little while and the pool is a nice resource to have as well.

I haven’t swum laps in a long time. I used to do it pretty regularly when I had a membership at the Y. Maybe it just felt right to repeat night laps 5 years later and think about her, maybe I just needed a break from the training routine. My swimsuit was not ideal, my goggles were all messed up and my swimcap was half melted, but they’ll work well enough till I can get new ones. It took me a few laps to settle in. I got pretty good form when I was doing it all the time, but the muscle memory was a little rusty. I can swim relatively fast with not a whole ton of effort when doing it right. This was what I was going for. Using my legs to mostly propel myself and the arms as backup. Keeping my body aligned and tracking in a straight path, no flailing, counting breaths in rhythm. I just let the water and bubbles and my muscles take the stress and reform it into endorphins. I couldn’t remember how long the pool was or how many laps I needed to make a mile, so I planned on doing 50 lengths. I thought that would be at least close to a mile.

Once I was close to finishing the 50 lengths (with a 30 sec-1min break every 10) I caught sight of a paper tacked to the board next to the pool with the distances on it. Said that 70.4 lengths of the pool makes a mile. URRRRGGG. But I’m already tired!! I decided to break it up and water-jogged the next 5 lengths before returning to regular swimming and finishing out 72 lengths. As I got out of the pool and struggled to make my legs hold me up, I realized just what staggeringly good shape triathletes must be in to be able to do that, THEN bike, THEN run! There was no way I could do those things after getting out of that pool!! I would like to perhaps do a tri some day, but I obviously have much work to do before that is a possibility. That and I need a bike. That helps too.

This excursion into swimming has convinced me to start switching out one of my runs per week with a swim. My next run will tell how much positive impact the pool had on my running, but I think it will be like a tempo run. I have speed intervals tomorrow if I wake up in time. Tonight is turning sleepless, so I may snooze away the daylight hours tomorrow. If that happens, I’ll run on Sunday and swim again on Monday instead of my run. I like having options. 🙂

Strong on the Rebound

19 Aug

Days till Race day: 45  (Copying Brittany)

Scheduled: 9 mile long run

Actual: 9.02 miles, 1h:27m:02s, average 9:39/mile

Stops: 1 for Gu gel and water, NO WALK BREAKS BITCHES!!!

Gu Gel: DEFINITELY worth the gross out. They are mana from heaven.

Breeze: Also mana from heaven

Best Gu flavor so far: Mandarin orange

Humidity: 90% (Come on, August. Be over already. This is getting old.)

My dad: Seriously awesome running support. You guys are missing out. This guy is on top of things.

Mental State: On the rebound to establishing a new state of normalcy

My friends: A.W.E.S.O.M.E.

As Brittany said, we are now close enough to race day to begin counting DOWN to the race instead of counting UP from the start. Only 6 weeks left. Crazy. However, I finally really feel like finishing this thing is within my grasp. Even if I have to walk the last few miles, I know I can finish now. That’s a pretty awesome feeling and a little boost that I needed right about now.

I got home from work and was trying to form my food and hydration plan since my all day carbo-load plan kind of went out the window what with it being busy at work and me forgetting since my appetite still is not exactly what you’d call healthy. I can eat again, but not very much and nothing super smelly (read: tasty). Runner’s World posted a very timely tweet with an answer to a question regarding what to eat pre and post run. SWEET!! I ate earlier than I was planning since they recommended eating a light meal 2-3 hours prior and then eating again after. Done and done. Stretched, warmed up, took a Gu, and out the door I went. I also packed a Gu and my debit card in the convenient gel-sized pocket inside my shorts so that at the convenience store about halfway through the run I could buy a water and take my second Gu. Planning, I has it! I was very pleasantly surprised that this did not rub a hole in my hip while I was running. Success!!

I started out at short run Gu fueled speeds and did the first mile in 9:03, which is when I told myself to slow the fuck down so I wouldn’t burn out early and be crying and broken on the way to the finish like last time. Made a full loop around Eyster and Barton for 3 miles and then headed out on the long Rockledge loop. I’m about 90% sure that I passed the guy who lives across the street from me and does triathlons running the other way at this point, but his headlamp shining in my eyes meant I couldn’t see his face really well. Said Hi anyway and kept on going. Right about the time my legs were starting to feel heavy and I was getting tired, what do you know, but it was time for a Gu break! I walked into the store, grabbed my water and tried to open the Gu while the guy was ringing it up. These things are not easy to open if you’re in the AC, not sweaty and have glue-fingers and super strength. When you’re tired and sweat soaked, they are fucking impossible. After struggling with it for a hot minute, I asked the clerk if he would be so kind as to assist me. He very nicely started it for me so I could get that sweet sweet mana down my gullet. Down it went (orange went much easier!), chugged my water and threw out the bottle and got ready to go….but wait! Who’s that?! MY DAD!! Pulled up with water and Gu gels for me!!! AHH!! Just 30 seconds too late, but SUPER AWESOME anyway. He said he would continue on and meet me again up ahead. My dad rules.

The pep-up from the Gu and water was almost immediate. I made myself slow down in case it was just a little temporary insanity from stopping for a minute and because the water-belly was a little sloshy. After about a half mile, though, it was pretty obvious that no, the girl at Running Zone was telling the absolute truth and these things are indispensable for long runs and make all the difference in the world. I will be stocking up and packing them for the race for sure!!! I got new energy, felt awesome and put the cruise control back on while I laughed at Brittany and my dad discussing sparkly men through my peptalks.

It didn’t start to feel hard again until about 8 miles. That last mile I felt heavy and my knees were starting to complain, but at that point, I only had one mile to go. I could make it!!! Push push push! In the last quarter mile, running up Barton, there was a guy walking the other way coming towards me. I got ready to give the finger and/or pull my pepper spray, but when I got close he just smiled at me, gave me thumbs up and said “Keep it up!”. WHAT?! Uhh Thanks!!! Think I passed the one guy walking around in Rockledge that’s not a douchenozzle! The ratio is still standing pretty firmly in favor of the “these assholes are a waste of oxygen”…including the winner who yelled from his shitty busted up car “You feisty, biiiiiiiiiiitch?!” at me 3 times on my Monday run, but it’s really nice to give my middle finger a rest now and then. 🙂

Got home and had 4 comments on a previous run from friends giving me encouragement as well as a bunch on Facebook on the Endomondo link. Even though I didn’t get them as peptalks, it was still awesome. Made me smile for sure. Ate my eggs and wheat toast for recovery, iced my knees and soaked my feet and off to sleep.

Today is a rest day, and even though I’m working, I have my feet up on the desk (my boss is out and it’s super quiet today) and am chillin’, basking in the afterglow of finishing my longest continuous run ever and successfully, to boot. I’m stinkin’ hungry too for the first time in a month, so I believe I will, as recommended by the prolific words of Brittany “Eat the damn cheeseburger Kelly and don’t ever fucking apologize because cheeseburgers were made to be eaten.”. My friends are awesome. Have I said that?

On a related note, Brittany is coming to visit me tomorrow so we can get drunk be responsible and play Halo all night. She is amazing and I’m SOO excited to see her. Can’t wait!!!

Oh, Baby

14 Aug

This post is going to have nothing to do with running, so if that’s why you read this blog, you may want to skip this one. I promise I’ll go back to writing about the marathon training next week. I will say that while my workouts have been mostly half-assed and full of puffy eyes and snotty noses, I have been doing them. This week was a rest week which is the only reason I made it through all of them on the MUCH too little food and sleep I was able to get.

This is going to be a mental and emotional purge for me in order to help collect my thoughts after 2 of the most stressful weeks of my life thus far and put in writing a defense of myself which I seem to have to recount and justify over and over. Fair warning, it’s not going to be brief or edited and it’s likely to get a little pathetic. It’s a dump. That being said, this is not meant to invite a pity party or fish for sympathy. I don’t really care if no one on earth ever reads this. The therapist suggested blogging as a way to clear my head and move forward, so here goes.

The dust has somewhat settled and it appears that the future and life I had planned and thought I had are now no longer an option. My marriage is coming to an end. Not because of fighting or infidelity or anything like that. It is because something changed in my husband and he now feels the need for children. Enough to dissolve the marriage and go looking for it since I do not, cannot and have never felt this need and it is not something I have ever or likely will ever want. Because of the nature of the issue, there is no compromise. We can’t have half a child or try it out to see if we like it and take it back to the pound if it’s just not working. It’s all or nothing. I will do almost anything on this planet for that man, but I can’t do that. Not for anyone, no matter how much they mean to me. It would mean sacrificing the entirety of who I am and the life I want, create resentment and ultimately ruin the relationship anyway. It is both harder and easier because I do still want him to remain my friend and I believe he will, but now I am forced to separate myself and be JUST that. I still love him more than I can say, so this was not an easy decision for either of us and it hurts like crazy.

I have had to defend myself constantly over the last 10+ years for my choice. It seems silly to me that I have to defend this position, but because the “normal” thing to do is to have kids, it’s strange for people to hear someone, especially a woman, that knows strongly she wants to be without them. I don’t know if they think I’m joking, just going for shock value, or what. I certainly do not look down on anyone that wants/has kids, as long as they have made the conscious choice to have them, love them and provide for them. I know quite a few people who are completely and totally happy being parents and I am happy for them. But that life is not for me and I’m sure it never will be.

It’s not pregnancy that I’m opposed to, it’s motherhood. It’s that lifetime of worry and obligation, the mountains of extra work, lost sleep, emotional and financial strain. A lot of people assume there’s something wrong with me or that I’m immature or have some hangup from childhood trauma. I don’t. I just don’t enjoy being around kids and it’s just not a need I have. I sometimes wonder how many parents just convince themselves that they like having kids because they jumped in and now they’re stuck with them and can’t go back. Better make the best of it and convince yourself all those things you gave up were worth the macaroni necklaces. The fact of the matter is that it also affects a marriage profoundly and that is not the marriage I wanted or signed on for. The strained, over-extended, low energy, constantly interrupted marriage with no time to yourselves. No. That’s not enough. I want one whole person to fully be with and appreciate and who will fully be with and appreciate me.

I have never once in my life, in all the years of babysitting and teaching kids to ride imagined myself as a mom or had a maternal instinct. I ALWAYS felt some combination of annoyed, tired, grossed out and bored when with kids and just watched the clock tick away the minutes until I could hand them back to their parents and get paid. Maybe it’s the stubborn independence in me that hates having something needy attached to me all the time. I have never once looked at a baby and thought “AwwwwwWWWwwww Baaaaabbbbyyyy!!!”. They give me the creeps if I’m honest. Whenever I see a parent and child out in public, rather than getting the warm and fuzzies, I just feel grateful it’s not me and thankful that I have my freedom.

I have had a number of people wondering if I just don’t want to ruin my body by having a baby or why I can’t “find a compromise and maybe just have 1”? I am more upset that these people think little enough of me as a person to think that my only concern on the subject is out of vanity. That is not the issue even a little bit. The fact that they think I’m superficial enough for that to be my main concern hurts, especially when they don’t even try to understand that it’s about the lifestyle. The point is I DON’T WANT TO BE A MOM. EVER. And “just having 1” is not a compromise either since I still wind up saddled with a lifetime of responsibility and obligation to this person I made. Even if my husband was the stay at home caregiver and I was the breadwinner, I still have to come home to “MOMMYMOMMYMOMMYMOMMYMOMMY! HEYLOOKWHATIMADEATSCHOOOOOOOOL!”. No thanks.

You can call it immaturity, selfishness, whatever you want, but the fact of the matter is that I am well aware of the commitment children represent and the sacrifices parents have to make every day. I am also well aware that I am not equipped to be a good parent since all the “rewards” people talk about getting out of parenting, I don’t see as positives and/or they don’t even out the negatives that come along with the job. I won’t bring a child into the world hoping that “it’ll be different when it’s mine” and that some previously unfelt biological imperative will kick in and I’ll be happy. What if it doesn’t? What if I go nuts and wind up being that mom that drives her kids into the river?

I also take offense at the people that assume the only way to be fulfilled in life or give life meaning is through procreation and that I am “missing out” on this sense of fulfillment. Just because they get that from their children (which is wonderful, and I hope all parents get that) does not mean that I will or that it is the only way to be happy in life. I envision a life of travel, discovery and exploration. This is the life vision that excites me and fills me with anticipation. I want to be fulfilled by seeing as much of the world and experiencing as much of the unimaginably vast variety of things it has to offer as I can.

I want to feel infinitely small looking up at a night sky away from the ambient light of city life. I want to have my breath catch in my throat at the sight of natural beauty and get lost in amazing artwork and monuments. I want to drive fast cars on winding roads with the windows down and the music up. I want to ride cross country in Ireland. I want to run marathons all around the country. I want to go on vacation with no notice. I want to eat strange local foods and have my views constantly changed and reshaped. I want to cover my skin and my walls in beautiful art. I want to learn to speak foreign languages by immersing myself in the culture. I want to stay up all night engrossed in conversation or activity and go to bed when the sun comes up. I want to earn a black belt in a martial art. I want to make snow angels and ski. I want to have varied and involved hobbies that change as I do. I want to read a library’s worth of books.  I want to paint when and where inspiration strikes and experiment with ways to be creative. I want to find exotic and remote places to steal a kiss where no one can see. I want to wear out a camera taking beautiful photos. I want to play video games until 2 am with my friends. I want to retire before I die. I very much want to share these things with someone, yes, but children do not fit into the picture.

It is infinitely frustrating and demoralizing to be told, whether blatantly or through implication, that you are broken, mentally imbalanced or strange because you DON’T feel something, regardless of how happy or well balanced you are as a person, and it DOES wear you down at least a little after years of hearing it. I have questioned everything about myself in the last couple of weeks trying to figure out if there WAS in fact some hidden hangup or mental anomaly making me dislike children and reject the idea of having my own that I could fix and make the marriage work. Desperation to find some way to prevent the impending split had more self doubt, guilt and crazy emotions running rampant in my head than any one person should be capable of.  I had convinced myself I WAS broken, perhaps irreparably so, that I was simply not good enough to be in a normal adult relationship, that this rejection was probably inevitable after all, and felt enormously guilty for not being able to feel and fill this need and make the man I love happy and save my marriage. I tried to figure out where I had not compromised enough, where I had been lacking. There was guilt for the tiny amount of relief I felt at the thought of only having to clean up after myself, of not having to constantly fight allergies to the dog, of not having to worry about how someone else was spending our money or if I could spend a little on myself. There has also been a rather crazy amount of fear lingering in my body which is what has kept me from food and sleep. Anxiety attacks have been a constant, varying in intensity, while I wondered whether I was enough for him to stay or if I fell short in the measurement and would be left standing alone wondering where I went wrong. Now that I know the answer, the fear has morphed into the fear of the unknown, of being alone, of not being good enough for anyone to love and of not being able to open myself up enough to love someone again.

But, no. Much as my inner voice might yell to the contrary, I’m not broken and I’m not crazy or militant feminist or any of that shit. Somewhere in my gut I know that it’s not right and that I’m not changing. I just have made a choice for my life and I won’t be bullied or cooerced into doing something that’s not right for me just because that’s what “most normal people” do or because it means the person I love more than anything will leave if I don’t. Maybe if I repeat this enough times I will really believe it.

I am hurting so much it feels like a physical wound. It gets poked when my thoughts shift reminding me of the reality of the situation and how absolutely terrifying it is to have your life taken and turned completely upside down against your will, have your main support taken away and have to suddenly choose a new life direction and definition of yourself when you thought you had it figured out. This is going to take some time, but I feel that ESPECIALLY now, it is important and imperative for me to continue training for and complete this race. I need a goal, I need something to be proud of. I need my own identity and sense of self worth. I need to put on my big girl panties, look forward and see what I can do on my own. I feel like I’ve been thrown off a cliff…let’s hope I find my parachute and don’t smash on the rocks at the bottom.

So I’m not normal. So what. I’ll be OK, I think, eventually….I’m just gonna need some extra motivation to get out the door some days. Only 7 weeks ’till race day. I REALLY hope I can keep on track.

Onward….

There Is Only Time to Run

5 Aug

Day 75:

Scheduled: 6 miles, long run

Actual: 6.2 miles 57m:53s, Avg 9:20/mile

Mental state: Iffy, but approaching sane

My dad: Awesome

My legs: Awesome

Gu gel texture: horrible and gag inducing

Gu gel flavor: Jet blackberry – pretty good

New Records: So many, Endomondo exploded

Dubstep: Still makes me run fast

“There is no time to think about how much I hurt; there is only time to run.” -Ben Logsdon

You didn't wanna be inside my head this week.

This has been a rough and confusing week, which is why there have been no posts. I will spare you all the grimy details, but I’ve been trying to keep my sanity intact. Running has been the reset button all week and allowed me to keep from going off the deep end. I missed my Monday run because of drama and thunderstorms. What should have been hill intervals on Tuesday turned into an 11pm tempo/speed interval session outside in the suffocating fog-humidity to get control of myself and re-balance. I managed a little over 4 miles and was doing mostly 8:30/mile or better when I wasn’t walking to avoid drowning. Endomondo says I got to 5:48/mile pace at one point and I think I might have been frustration crying while I did it. Ran a 6:50 mile and lifted on Wednesday so I could be a rational and reasonable human being at home. I was feeling closer to normal today, but still on edge and needing to blow off steam.

I haven’t been able to eat much in the last few days due to my stomach being in knots and doing somersaults which has, no doubt, affected my ability to run/lift, but I forced my way through most of a half Publix sub today for lunch so I’d have something in the reserve tanks for the run tonight. I also decided I would finally try out the Gu gels I bought last weekend since I’d be out running long enough tonight. It says you’re supposed to take one 15 minutes before you run and then every 45 minutes during your run. I decided I would just take 1 before and see how I felt since you’re supposed to drink water with it and I hate carrying bottles because I am a lazy fuck hate the way it unbalances me.

That's what she said.

It turns out that the consistency of a Gu gel is horrifying and feels like something you really shouldn’t have in your mouth. It was thick, sticky, a struggle to swallow and it feels like there is way more of it than there should be. It tasted OK, but wow. Next time I will try it in smaller bits to see if that helps. A whole mouthful was just…yuck. I will DEFINITELY need water to chase that with if I take one in the middle of my 9 miler next week. I am semi-convinced that they work though, since the only breaks I took on this run were for a quick water stop and waiting for someone to back out of their driveway and was able to do my last mile the fastest of the whole run without feeling like I was going to die. Worth the gag-fest……probably. I will report back later when I try it without squeezing the whole thing into my mouth at once. Don’t do that. You’ll regret it.

As I was chugging through my third mile, I was aware of headlights behind me. No big deal. Car flashed high beams then slowed down behind me…weird, but probably pulling into a driveway, so I got ready to do the “Thanks for not being a dickbag and running me over” wave as I went by. That was when I noticed this person was holding a bottle of water out the window so I actually looked at them. WAIT! THAT’S MY DAD!! WITH WATER!! FOR ME!! He was watching me on Glympse so knew where I was and drove out with cold water for me!! He then drove a little ways up the street and waited for me to come by again to take the water back so I wouldn’t have to carry it and gave me peptalks in person. Fuckin’ awesome. He rules. He was waiting outside their house with the water again when I went by there with more peptalks, so I stopped for about 30 seconds to chug and dump the rest over my head. Made the run MUCH easier. 🙂 ❤

I know I may complain a lot on here, but in all honesty, running has become my drug. It’s really just the heat that is making me a whiny little bitch. The truth is that I now need running to be focused and sane, to keep things in perspective. Those endorphins are my escape. Shaving that 10-20 seconds off my previous time, feeling the breeze on my skin and the pavement underfoot are things I crave now. That freedom from life while I’m out, the physical release of everything that bothers me. Running is a strange drug in that you sort of go through the withdrawal symptoms first, but once you muscle through those first few weeks of wheezing, cramping, soreness and blisters, then the addiction sets in. It takes hold of you and you start thinking about running while at your desk at work or doing house chores. Your legs start to feel restless if you have been kept from it for a day or two, itching to get outside and devour the miles.

I may be addicted now, but I don’t need help and I don’t want to go back. I just need more speed and more miles.