I got up this morning and went directly to yoga class first thing. Coming out of aptly named "Awkward Pose" I felt my back go "sproing!" As I have alluded to before, I have a bad back due to a fairly serious back injury about 10 years ago. Mostly it's fine, mostly these days I just have lots of arthritis and problems with stiffness. I'm gimpy in the morning but usually 1/2 hour after I get up all traces are gone and off I go without another thought. I think it's been about three years since I have had any significant Issues, but I think today's the day to reset that counter. Whatever I have going on back there is very different from the arthritis "pain" that I am used to.
It's not that bad, mostly muscular pain in the low back, a little weakness and definite pain when I bear weight on one leg (like going up or down stairs). Having been through the wringer and back in the past, though, I really respect and listen to what my back is telling me. I have learned through experience (and through Tom, who has MORE than his fair share of back issues) that the thing to do when confronted with unusual back pain is to hit it soon, and hit it hard, and don't wait for things to get worse (which they almost inevitably will). I just got out of a nice warm shower, and am sitting here with an ice pack to that lumbar spine. More to the point, I've just ingested a prodigious amount of drugs (yes, it's true, nurses ALWAYS have the best drugs) and am predicting that I'll be drooling in about 45 minutes with the onset of ibuprofen, norco, soma and just a touch of xanax. Fuck yeah, that's a LOT of narcotics and other things which I don't usually take, ever, but experience has proven to me that if I do this little cocktail soon enough, and spend a significant time off my feet, out of pain and with muscles relaxed, the spine just kind of deals with itself and sorts itself out without getting lots of collateral muscles involved and really turning into something serious. It seems a little extreme, but I would rather lose a day to drugged-out numbness than lose a week (or more, much more) to pain and weakness and exacerbation of existing nerve damage. The last time this happened, it was after a really scrambling-type backpacking trip, and I spent 2 days in bed only getting up to pee, and I was fine after that two days. This does not seem as serious, and I'm hoping (almost against hope) that it will work and I'll be back to my normal self tomorrow.
Meanwhile, I'll sit here in a narcotized puddle and watch stupid things on TV. I am trying to put a positive spin on this, and am thinking that this is just a little roadblock to having a much more limber spine. I don't blame the yoga and will get back to it as soon as possible, for it has vastly helped me with spinal issues in the past and has already made a considerable difference in just the 2 months that I have been seriously attending class this go 'round. Tom brought up a good point in that this morning I woke up, sat on the couch checking emails, then went right to class without ever really moving around much -- I might as well have been asking for it. In the future I will spend more time limbering up or just walking around prior to going; perhaps I should concentrate on evening classes as opposed to the morning ones. Something to consider, anyhow.
Yeah, ok, the shit's starting to hit the fan now and I'm feeling a little floaty. But when I start drooling in another 5 minutes I'm not going to be entirely sure it's from the drugs -- it might be from Shut Up and Run!'s awesome giveaway of lots of cool Champion gear. I love this brand and really want to win this one . . .
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
Progress
I had lots of plans for yesterday, and the day started out fine with a yoga class. Then I sat on the couch for about 5 hours, then took a 2 hour nap, went out to dinner and then spent a nice evening with Tom. Oooh, life is tough.
Today I got up off my ass, did some housecleaning and just got home from a run. I think this is what the fancy folks call a "tempo run" and yikes! I feel like I'm entering a whole new phase of running. I went out for 6 miles, and the middle 4 called for a 10:30 pace.
10:07
10:24
10:37
10:41
Once again, I start out feeling like a rock star, then slowly slip on the pace thing. I set Gary to bleep if I went under 10:30, and he was mostly quiet the first 2 miles (mostly), but really started acting up on the third mile. I'd hear the bliddely-bleeeeup! and speed up a bit, only to get bliddely-bleeeeuped again a minute later. Fucker.
All in all, I was pretty happy with this run. I'm certainly not a big fan of the "speed" thing, but I think it's good to be pushed out of my comfort zone, even just a little bit. It certainly isn't boring. I still found myself taking quite a few stopped water breaks, but less than the last speedwork run I did. I think these'll just naturally fade out as time passes.
Of note, I ran up that unavoidable 250' hill to my house, and today I made it non-stop. Granted, it was at a pace of something like 15:00, but I didn't stop. Progress!
Today I got up off my ass, did some housecleaning and just got home from a run. I think this is what the fancy folks call a "tempo run" and yikes! I feel like I'm entering a whole new phase of running. I went out for 6 miles, and the middle 4 called for a 10:30 pace.
10:07
10:24
10:37
10:41
Once again, I start out feeling like a rock star, then slowly slip on the pace thing. I set Gary to bleep if I went under 10:30, and he was mostly quiet the first 2 miles (mostly), but really started acting up on the third mile. I'd hear the bliddely-bleeeeup! and speed up a bit, only to get bliddely-bleeeeuped again a minute later. Fucker.
All in all, I was pretty happy with this run. I'm certainly not a big fan of the "speed" thing, but I think it's good to be pushed out of my comfort zone, even just a little bit. It certainly isn't boring. I still found myself taking quite a few stopped water breaks, but less than the last speedwork run I did. I think these'll just naturally fade out as time passes.
Of note, I ran up that unavoidable 250' hill to my house, and today I made it non-stop. Granted, it was at a pace of something like 15:00, but I didn't stop. Progress!
Sunday, February 7, 2010
And now, hills!
Yesterday afternoon saw some snow. Actually, not much accumulated, but at 1pm there was plenty in the air. I am leery of running on the road in the first place (cars! people! where do I pee?!) and the addition of the fluffy stuff had me wondering if a road run around town was a good idea. I opted instead to venture off the mountain. Using Google Earth, Tom helped me plot a likely running route 4,000 feet lower in Colfax, definitely out of snow's reach this day. Later I found myself standing outside my car contemplating this sign:
At this point I took it to mean "Curvy road ahead" . . . I should have interpreted it to mean "HILLS!!!" because that's exactly what the next 8 miles proved to be. Hilly! Hillier than, I duuno, northern California?
Almost 1,900 feet of elevation gain in my little 8 mile run. I was super slow, I dwaddled, peed, took water breaks and pictures. It took me 2 hours to run this distance. But. I really dug in and ran it. I motored my way up and experienced a sense of STRENGTH as I ran. I'll have to remember this feeling and tap into it in the future.
I would've run another 4 miles, but that would have pushed me into nighttime. I do have plans to run at night, but not quite yet!
Friday, February 5, 2010
My Garmin has a first name . . .
"It's G A R ,um, Y"
In the previous comments, Funderson asked about Gary the Garmin. Yes, indeed, Gary is its name. Why? Well, the short answer is Gary is kind of an obvious derivative. GARmin, GARy, yeah. There is a longer, more involved answer, though, one that finds its roots over 10 years ago . . .
::swirly picture fade out to another time and place::
So I dated and lived with this guy named Gary for about 2 years, some 10 years ago. Lots of red flags in our relationship, right from the very beginning -- he still lived with his parents (at age 30+), my family hated him and he limited the time I spent with them, he was unemployed, I paid the rent when he did move in with me, he walked around bare-chested at every opportunity, played the guitar passably and fancied himself a star, etc., etc. (trust me, the list goes on and on). Incredibly long and pathetic story short, I finally wised up, broke up with him and kicked him out of my house. This is where the story veers from Co-dependent Street right on to Mental Illness Avenue.
For one thing, it took the man over a week to actually leave -- and that required an ultimatum of police-department proportions (a theme we return to again later in this story). When I came home from work that night, every single light in the house was on, the door was wide open, all the pictures on the wall were tilted at a precise angle and every door (including cabinets) was open just so. Upon further inspection, everything that he and his family (with whom I was quite close) had ever given me was just gone, CDs that I bought while we were together were defaced, and I found the first of the notes that were to plague me for the next 6+ months. This guy had taken the time to write these little fortune-cookie type notes proclaiming his love for me and various other sentiments and secreted them all over the place -- like in cereal boxes, the back of the spice rack, stuck to the bottom of a tampon box. Seriously, for the next weeks and months I would unroll the toilet paper and a little piece of paper would flutter out, saying how mean I was, or I'd open up a cookbook to some random recipe and there'd be another one of those fucking notes telling me how I wasted a wonderful thing. Super crazy shit, and it was only the beginning.
He proceeded to stalk me with a vengeance, showing up at my house at all hours, at work, at other places I might frequent. He left me flowers and notes on my car, and would call and leave TONS of messages on my phone -- I remember coming home one night to find 58, yes 5-8, rambling phone messages (including some that were just those tones you get when you push the phone buttons, and I'm sure he was sending me "messages" this way). I was 40 miles away from home, going out for an evening with my sister, and I looked over into the lane next to me at a stoplight and there he was. He would just show up at places, demanding to speak with me. Restaurants, work, places I liked to go. The final straw was waking up one morning at about 10am (I worked nights even then, so that was like the middle of the night for me, a fact he well knew) to find him standing at the end of my bed, watching me sleep. I got the police involved at this point, and had him arrested for breaking and entering (his crazy fucking logic said that this was a bogus charge, as he had entered an unlocked window and thus didn't actually BREAK anything). Restraining orders followed, but even that barely slowed him down -- he'd show up at my house at 3am, pounding on my front door, kicking dents into my car, still leaving notes and flowers in places I was sure to find. I had to have security meet me at my designated parking place at work for MONTHS. It got so that I would call the police and say "This is Bootchez" and they'd just send a car out to my address to lead him away. Again. He never once physically harmed me, though I have no doubt that he was the type that might eventually snap and kill me in some weird attachment disorder break.
I never actually pressed charges. Co-dependent to the end.
The following and the "anonymous" phone calls continued for months and months, and was certainly a factor in my deciding to start travelling as a nurse. It never really stopped until I left the area, over a year later.
Good things to come out of this? It pretty much cured me of the co-dependent pattern that had repeated itself over and over and over again in my romantic relationships (I only needed one more lousy -- though thankfully short-lived -- relationship before I gave up all together, renounced all of my tendencies of falling for unavailable men, and decided to become a lesbian. Then, totally without warning (and before I did anything more than cruise a gay bar), Tom, wonderful Tom, fell into my lap. He wishes it was a little later, and perhaps I had a little lesbo experience, but that's another story). Plus, as I have always said, Tragedy + Time = Comedy, and all this time later I've really let go of the emotions surrounding this experience and appreciate it mostly for the humorous anecdotes it might provide. Like, I hate Jazz and I hate the Grateful Dead, and thus was totally flummoxed by Gary's invitation, right in the middle of all this, to go see a show called Jazz is Dead, featuring a band covering the Dead with a Jazz flair. I can think of little else that I would rather do. Mainly, I can't help but laugh, all these years later, at the sheer craziness of some of the shit that went down.
Which, in my usual long-winded fashion, brings me around to the point of this post. Gary, the stalker, knew absolutely everything about where I was and what I did, and oooooooh! so does the Gary the Garmin! Thus, my Garmin has a first name . . . .
In the previous comments, Funderson asked about Gary the Garmin. Yes, indeed, Gary is its name. Why? Well, the short answer is Gary is kind of an obvious derivative. GARmin, GARy, yeah. There is a longer, more involved answer, though, one that finds its roots over 10 years ago . . .
::swirly picture fade out to another time and place::
So I dated and lived with this guy named Gary for about 2 years, some 10 years ago. Lots of red flags in our relationship, right from the very beginning -- he still lived with his parents (at age 30+), my family hated him and he limited the time I spent with them, he was unemployed, I paid the rent when he did move in with me, he walked around bare-chested at every opportunity, played the guitar passably and fancied himself a star, etc., etc. (trust me, the list goes on and on). Incredibly long and pathetic story short, I finally wised up, broke up with him and kicked him out of my house. This is where the story veers from Co-dependent Street right on to Mental Illness Avenue.
For one thing, it took the man over a week to actually leave -- and that required an ultimatum of police-department proportions (a theme we return to again later in this story). When I came home from work that night, every single light in the house was on, the door was wide open, all the pictures on the wall were tilted at a precise angle and every door (including cabinets) was open just so. Upon further inspection, everything that he and his family (with whom I was quite close) had ever given me was just gone, CDs that I bought while we were together were defaced, and I found the first of the notes that were to plague me for the next 6+ months. This guy had taken the time to write these little fortune-cookie type notes proclaiming his love for me and various other sentiments and secreted them all over the place -- like in cereal boxes, the back of the spice rack, stuck to the bottom of a tampon box. Seriously, for the next weeks and months I would unroll the toilet paper and a little piece of paper would flutter out, saying how mean I was, or I'd open up a cookbook to some random recipe and there'd be another one of those fucking notes telling me how I wasted a wonderful thing. Super crazy shit, and it was only the beginning.
He proceeded to stalk me with a vengeance, showing up at my house at all hours, at work, at other places I might frequent. He left me flowers and notes on my car, and would call and leave TONS of messages on my phone -- I remember coming home one night to find 58, yes 5-8, rambling phone messages (including some that were just those tones you get when you push the phone buttons, and I'm sure he was sending me "messages" this way). I was 40 miles away from home, going out for an evening with my sister, and I looked over into the lane next to me at a stoplight and there he was. He would just show up at places, demanding to speak with me. Restaurants, work, places I liked to go. The final straw was waking up one morning at about 10am (I worked nights even then, so that was like the middle of the night for me, a fact he well knew) to find him standing at the end of my bed, watching me sleep. I got the police involved at this point, and had him arrested for breaking and entering (his crazy fucking logic said that this was a bogus charge, as he had entered an unlocked window and thus didn't actually BREAK anything). Restraining orders followed, but even that barely slowed him down -- he'd show up at my house at 3am, pounding on my front door, kicking dents into my car, still leaving notes and flowers in places I was sure to find. I had to have security meet me at my designated parking place at work for MONTHS. It got so that I would call the police and say "This is Bootchez" and they'd just send a car out to my address to lead him away. Again. He never once physically harmed me, though I have no doubt that he was the type that might eventually snap and kill me in some weird attachment disorder break.
I never actually pressed charges. Co-dependent to the end.
The following and the "anonymous" phone calls continued for months and months, and was certainly a factor in my deciding to start travelling as a nurse. It never really stopped until I left the area, over a year later.
Good things to come out of this? It pretty much cured me of the co-dependent pattern that had repeated itself over and over and over again in my romantic relationships (I only needed one more lousy -- though thankfully short-lived -- relationship before I gave up all together, renounced all of my tendencies of falling for unavailable men, and decided to become a lesbian. Then, totally without warning (and before I did anything more than cruise a gay bar), Tom, wonderful Tom, fell into my lap. He wishes it was a little later, and perhaps I had a little lesbo experience, but that's another story). Plus, as I have always said, Tragedy + Time = Comedy, and all this time later I've really let go of the emotions surrounding this experience and appreciate it mostly for the humorous anecdotes it might provide. Like, I hate Jazz and I hate the Grateful Dead, and thus was totally flummoxed by Gary's invitation, right in the middle of all this, to go see a show called Jazz is Dead, featuring a band covering the Dead with a Jazz flair. I can think of little else that I would rather do. Mainly, I can't help but laugh, all these years later, at the sheer craziness of some of the shit that went down.
Which, in my usual long-winded fashion, brings me around to the point of this post. Gary, the stalker, knew absolutely everything about where I was and what I did, and oooooooh! so does the Gary the Garmin! Thus, my Garmin has a first name . . . .
Monday, February 1, 2010
Speedwork!!!!
I've been keeping up with the running (if not the blogging) while in
Marin. At the end of last week I was supposed to do a 3 and a 5 mile
run. One of those days I couldn't get out of bed, so I combined them
for a very desultory 6.5 mile slog. I do believe I ran this on An
empty tank, food-wise, cause I was hungry as hell, and could barely
run without a serious walk break maybe every half mile. No energy.
Plus I ran by a few restaraunts and seriuosly considered running in
and grabbing food out of diners' hands.
Marin. At the end of last week I was supposed to do a 3 and a 5 mile
run. One of those days I couldn't get out of bed, so I combined them
for a very desultory 6.5 mile slog. I do believe I ran this on An
empty tank, food-wise, cause I was hungry as hell, and could barely
run without a serious walk break maybe every half mile. No energy.
Plus I ran by a few restaraunts and seriuosly considered running in
and grabbing food out of diners' hands.
I'm just beginning to appreciate the importance of being well fed.
Today I tried to make up for some off the speedwork that had been
called for in one of those two runs. I think the five miles called for
three miles at 10:29, so today I headed out for just three at that
pace. I set Gary to bleep at anything under 10:30, and off I went. My
splits? 9:57, 10:15, 10:15.
In the interest of full disclosure, I took a coupla water breaks in
there, maybe 5 of them for :30 or so. This running fast shit is
totally out of my league and new on my plate, so my Lazy Girl self
didn't want to take it TOO seriuosly. I'm kinda amazed at my times,
even considering the breaks. It definitely was harder than my usual
efforts, but maybe less hard than I envisioned. Now, if I can do that
WITHOUT stopping, I'd be impressed!
Thursday, January 28, 2010
10 mile jaunt
Yesterday's training schedule called for 10 miles at a 12:08 pace. For my usual trail running, this might be a little ambitious, but I thought it would be just a litte bit easy for the road. There I go thinking again!
It was overcast and about 37 degrees when I left home -- I'm off in my shorts and tank top, freezing my ass off for the first 3/4 mile but completely comfortable after that. The roads are pretty clear. My first 2 miles are on heavily travelled roads, and I have to pay a considerable amount of attention to traffic and properly crossing the road. There is definitely an adjustment from trail running! After the first bit, though, I find that I've picked a good route and the run is mostly flat with very light traffic. Oh, though . . . where the hell does one pee? There's no way I can run 10 miles without having to pee at least 2 or 3 times -- this is very difficult for a female to accomplish on a wide open road surrounded by 3 feet of snow. I just hunkered down and peed on the roadside, hoping no one came while I had my pants around my ankles. I lucked out!
I figured I could easily keep it below 12:08, and planned to run at a pace that felt comfortable, whatever that was, and if it was above 12:08, well, speed up. Here's my splits:
11:24
11:25
11:34
11:41
11:52
Just breezing along the first 5 miles, almost no attention to pace or anything, wow! I'm a rockstar!
12:01
12:01
OK, so now I'm looking at Gary the Garmin a little more, seeing all kinds of times, I guess I'm getting a little tired though I still feel good.
12:23
12:25
OK, so maybe paying attention to pace is a good overall plan, because it sure is slipping at the end! I try to speed up a bit, but am enjoying running slower more, and this is why I'll never be fast.
13:14
13:28
Yeah, so there's some hills in the last couple miles, especially the last mile. I suck at hills, though I don't actually hate them like I used to. I should do some hill repeats. This last, unavoidable hill on my way home will remain my nemesis all winter, and I plan on being able to run up it, nonstop, at a decent pace, by the time I leave the roads for the trails. Right now, slow and I gotta stop -- once!
Average Pace = 12:00. Does that mean I filled my goal of 10 miles at 12:08, or did I not make it because my pace wasn't consistent? I'm finding it interesting to train with paces in mind, because mostly I couldn't care less -- though a sub 5:00 marathon would be nice! It's also becoming more and more interesting to pay attention to how my body reacts to things and gaining more awareness of what I can and can't do.
What I CAN do is run 10 miles, comfortably and enjoyably and, dare I say it, easily. 3 running years down the road, and this still amazes me, although by now it shouldn't. I'm looking forward to my upcoming training and finding out if I love 20 miles as much as I love 10 (at whatever pace). I hope so!
It was overcast and about 37 degrees when I left home -- I'm off in my shorts and tank top, freezing my ass off for the first 3/4 mile but completely comfortable after that. The roads are pretty clear. My first 2 miles are on heavily travelled roads, and I have to pay a considerable amount of attention to traffic and properly crossing the road. There is definitely an adjustment from trail running! After the first bit, though, I find that I've picked a good route and the run is mostly flat with very light traffic. Oh, though . . . where the hell does one pee? There's no way I can run 10 miles without having to pee at least 2 or 3 times -- this is very difficult for a female to accomplish on a wide open road surrounded by 3 feet of snow. I just hunkered down and peed on the roadside, hoping no one came while I had my pants around my ankles. I lucked out!
I figured I could easily keep it below 12:08, and planned to run at a pace that felt comfortable, whatever that was, and if it was above 12:08, well, speed up. Here's my splits:
11:24
11:25
11:34
11:41
11:52
Just breezing along the first 5 miles, almost no attention to pace or anything, wow! I'm a rockstar!
12:01
12:01
OK, so now I'm looking at Gary the Garmin a little more, seeing all kinds of times, I guess I'm getting a little tired though I still feel good.
12:23
12:25
OK, so maybe paying attention to pace is a good overall plan, because it sure is slipping at the end! I try to speed up a bit, but am enjoying running slower more, and this is why I'll never be fast.
13:14
13:28
Yeah, so there's some hills in the last couple miles, especially the last mile. I suck at hills, though I don't actually hate them like I used to. I should do some hill repeats. This last, unavoidable hill on my way home will remain my nemesis all winter, and I plan on being able to run up it, nonstop, at a decent pace, by the time I leave the roads for the trails. Right now, slow and I gotta stop -- once!
Average Pace = 12:00. Does that mean I filled my goal of 10 miles at 12:08, or did I not make it because my pace wasn't consistent? I'm finding it interesting to train with paces in mind, because mostly I couldn't care less -- though a sub 5:00 marathon would be nice! It's also becoming more and more interesting to pay attention to how my body reacts to things and gaining more awareness of what I can and can't do.
What I CAN do is run 10 miles, comfortably and enjoyably and, dare I say it, easily. 3 running years down the road, and this still amazes me, although by now it shouldn't. I'm looking forward to my upcoming training and finding out if I love 20 miles as much as I love 10 (at whatever pace). I hope so!
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Winter Triathlon
All the fun of last week has apparently showed up in my waistline. Not only did I not lose any weight for the 20/20 challenge I joined over at Quadrathon, I'm the only pasrticipant who GAINED any weight . . . 1.97% of my body weight! I suck at this dieting thing. Not that I'm dieting, but tell me, why does a week of serious travel, no exercise and lots of good food make one gain 3 pounds?
Oh.
I'm off on a better start this week, and yesterday completed a little Winter Triathlon . . . I skied Squaw in the morning, ran 3 miles at the indoor track (roundandroundandround!), then did a Bikram Yoga class. Whew!
I learned a good lesson, which is not to Yoga right after a Run. My back was aching in class, and by the end of it I felt so arthritic I could barely move. This is not usual for me, and I'm blaming it on the running, which is hard on my spine. I have ran and then yoga'd on the same day, but not with just 20 minutes in between. Definitely a mistake.
I woke this morning feeling much more limber, and headed off for another morning's skiing. The nice thing about living near a ski area and holding a season's pass is that if you're just not feeling it, for whatever reason, you can bail and head back home after a few runs without feeling like you're not getting your money's worth. This is what we did, and then I've spend the rest of the day napping and filing taxes and not getting much else done.
Tomorrow I've got a 10-miler on deck, and I'm contemplating whether to head to Reno or brave the Tahoe elements. Unless it's really nasty out, I think I'll be running from home.
Best of all, I'm looking forward to it!
Oh.
I'm off on a better start this week, and yesterday completed a little Winter Triathlon . . . I skied Squaw in the morning, ran 3 miles at the indoor track (roundandroundandround!), then did a Bikram Yoga class. Whew!
I learned a good lesson, which is not to Yoga right after a Run. My back was aching in class, and by the end of it I felt so arthritic I could barely move. This is not usual for me, and I'm blaming it on the running, which is hard on my spine. I have ran and then yoga'd on the same day, but not with just 20 minutes in between. Definitely a mistake.
I woke this morning feeling much more limber, and headed off for another morning's skiing. The nice thing about living near a ski area and holding a season's pass is that if you're just not feeling it, for whatever reason, you can bail and head back home after a few runs without feeling like you're not getting your money's worth. This is what we did, and then I've spend the rest of the day napping and filing taxes and not getting much else done.
Tomorrow I've got a 10-miler on deck, and I'm contemplating whether to head to Reno or brave the Tahoe elements. Unless it's really nasty out, I think I'll be running from home.
Best of all, I'm looking forward to it!
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