Bye, bye, 2013.

Part one: run: 30 minute jog with the dog.  We walked a bit too.  My energy was pretty low this morning.  I'm taking supplements but don't seem to be absorbing much of what I eat. 

Part two: reflections: 2013 has been an odd year.  It was, quite simply, a retrenchment.  A slow beginning (sick and homeless, but just temporarily), and a blah sluggy end, and overall blandness, but with some unexpected highlights.  I didn't expect to run my first official ultra this year.

Part three: hopes for 2014.  Eh...well, here are the athletic ones.

1.  use our new pull up bar for an actual real pullup.  I'm going to start doing 'negatives' once I get my energy levels back up.  Starting point is 1/2 a pullup.  Yeah!  I'm also going to renew my 1-armed pushup pursuit.  I did one this year, but on a slight slope.  That was enough for me in 2013, but not in 2014.  This might help.

2.  run.  Race?  I don't know. 

3.   get through the summer without melting as much.

4.  start doing yoga regularly, just a short bit in the morning, and then whatever yin poses I need in the evening.   I still have to decide on a morning routine.

5.  keep up the ab work, and get back to the weights.

6.  BE THAT PERSON.  I have to be more assertive when it comes to possible gluten contamination.  I have to accept that I just can't eat anything prepared in certain restaurants or kitchens.  If they have a cloud of flour back there, anything coming out will get me sick.  I think I got sick this time off of some home baking that was in itself GF, but prepared in a non-GF kitchen.

I have been struggling with this for the past couple of years or so because I feel bad when people feel bad about excluding me.  I simply have to do a better job of convincing them that I simply don't have to eat at times.  The flipside has been enlightening: our recent visitors have (indirectly) reminded me that they are more susceptible to hypoglycemia and thus have to eat more often.  Though I graze at home and look forward to snack breaks at work, and sometimes eat a shocking disgusting amount at a single sitting, I often don't think about eating when I'm out.  I could go for hours with just water.  I don't eat much in the way of refined carbs except when I'm exercising, and so I'm not dealing with those persistent sugar cravings.  I salivate in front of the butcher case or chip aisle, and sometimes I remain starving no matter how much I eat, but I'm not dealing with surges of cravings.  However, other people don't understand this absence, and so they offer me food options which assuage their sense of obligation, and they often expend a fair deal of effort in trying to offer me GF food.  Unfortunately, like Yoda says, there is no try.  It's absolute.  My intestinal epithelium isn't protected by good intentions.  That's that.  I gotta be that weird person who doesn't eat sometimes.

 In 2014 (and beyond), I will not guilt eat or polite eat.

Meanwhile, to sum up in music: 

2013  Maybe...ok, I just picked one of my favourite music videos.
2014

still works

Bliss still hasn't worn off yet.

Pushups: 12 per set.
Pike situps: 10-11 per set.

Running: guts.  But things are better today.  There should be one more run in 2013 for me.

~

Catching up--visitors, Christmas, etc.

However, I have not been an Xmas piggy this year*, and I've run at least 30 minutes a day (until today) AND gotten back into the Bliss workout.  My back was slightly irked by a too-earnest seal pose a few days ago, but it seems to be fine now, and the left leg issue hasn't been returning.  Yesterday, the dog and I jogged for 1hr20 without any twinges--plus we found some unused (as in factory-flat) biodegradable dog poop bags on the trail.  And Happy Holidays to you too, Cosmos!

*except that I've somehow managed to overindulge in gluten.  Have eaten out a couple of times, and ate some supposedly gluten-free home baking.  When will I ever learn?  LOL

Edit: I have tentative plans for deeper musical exploration in 2014.  No more pop music.  I don't know if this counts as pop music anyway but might as well post it while I have the chance.

recovering

My back's still a little tender, but it turns out that sitting is far worse than running.

This morning, I went to a gym on post for the first time.   There are several gyms to choose from, and I was wondering if they each have a different atmosphere, but I ended up going to the most convenient one.  I had the women's locker room all to myself and then I wandered down past the squash courts and whatnot to a large room with weights and Nautilus machines and, yay, a few treadmills.   There were a bunch of guys in there of various ages (military retirees can also use the gym) but mostly on the weights.  One of the treadmills was free.  

I put my headphones on and jogged for an hour.  Hopefully there wasn't a 30-minute limit or whatever.

As I was leaving, I saw another woman in there doing something with dumbbells.  Nice to see!  It would have been cool to try more things out but my spazzstastic mishap might put me off the iron for a bit.  I'm honestly surprised that I was able to run without any issues today.  The worst was a tiny faint hint of the left leg issue, not much at all.  My back didn't complain.  

It was toasty in there though!  I would've worn my one remaining singlet, but it's a bit bloodstained (from that time something stung me in the forest).

Later on, I was sitting on a bench checking my texts and I noticed someone standing by me.  It was an old but fit guy who had been on one of the other treadmills.

"See you tomorrow?"  Fist bump.  I've gotten the nod a few times but this was my very first gym stranger fist bump, I think.

I explained with regrets that I don't go on post that often, but I would be thinking of him tomorrow.  Later on, I remembered that tomorrow is Christmas.  Sure doesn't feel like it!  Hopefully he gets his workout in.

Anyway, the gym had a good atmos.  Pretty relaxed.  Most people had headphones on.  But still serious.  Everyone I saw had worked up a good honest sweat.  Too bad there wasn't a colder room to run in, but I suppose that wouldn't get as many toxins out.  LOL

A lesson learned

Today has been rather warm and humid.  The high was about 25 or 26 C.

Great for hanging around outside in the sun--got a good dose of Vit D today!--but kind of miserable for running.  So I just did a 20 min tempo run on the TM in the toasty garage, and then I lifted.

At first, it felt great.  So much better than touching chilly metal!  I even thought about upping the weights, if all went well and I did a certain amount of reps with a certain weight...

However, it was humid, and I was continuing to sweat from the tempo run, and my grip started to suffer.   My last set of cleans really started to fall apart, and I resisted the one more rep that would make things right, because I knew it wouldn't.

If only I'd paid heed during the deadlifts too!  My second last one, the bar snagged in my hands and pinched calluses.  It hurt and I was prepared to give up but then I decided to be all tough and whatever--oh, and I also had a small chrome splinter in my thumb at this point.  Blah, blah, wah, wah, don't be such a baby!

Well, I went for one more rep and the bar really snagged.  It was really no go, but by then I was mostly up and I had to commit.  The sensation in my hands threw out the rest of me, and I set down the bar with the worst back spasms in my life.   Crap!  The worst I've done with weights has been just a little twinge; the worst I've done with anything else in my life has been just a slightly worse twinge, thanks to a sweet old lady (about 150 lbs) with a temporary loss of balance.  I turned to grab her, a big no-no in the PSW biz, but I couldn't let her fall.  Not her.  Maybe someone else (and yes, because our lift limit was 35-50 lbs, we were supposed to let anything (anyone) heavier than that fall as gently as possible.  Anyway, I had a few days of discomfort, but yoga fixed that.

I've also had years of low-grade back discomfort from scoliosis, but yoga fixed that too (not the scoliosis, just the discomfort).

Yep, it's time to relax.  Standing forward bend is the bomb!

I've done a few poses, and things feel a bit better already.  I don't notice the remnants of the chrome splinter anymore, and even the left leg issue is masked.  So much nicer to hurt symmetrically!  :D :D

~

Just the Bliss workout today.  No run: slight leg issue, mutinous girl bits, warm weather (24 C here today, and tomorrow is supposed to go up to 26), rain, etc, APATHY.  It seems that I won't make it off the waitlist for the January ultra so I have to find another race or goal, or at least something that will make exercising my dog here less boring and/or annoying.   Some days, I look into his earnest brown eyes and tell myself I'm doing this just for you, sweetie.

I should also tell myself that this is the lowest and darkest point of the year.  This is just a slump.  Not even an emotional one.  I feel pumped, just not about running.

Anyway, Bliss:
Pushups: 11-12 per set
Situps: 9-10 per set

I was trying to analyze my attraction to that music video, but I've since decided that it's just another fad and I should just be grateful that it gets me through a bunch of pushups and situps.  I don't allow myself to play it more than twice a day: once during the workout, and once afterward as a reward.  Hopefully this restraint will prevent its effects from wearing off.

Finding inner peace

On the right side of a semi-automatic pistol.

Yesterday morning, the dog and I jogged about a 1/2 hour.  I'm still keeping things easy so that the left leg issue stays away.

Yesterday afternoon, I went with my husband to a work party at a firing range.  Apparently, bowling was deemed "too boring". 

I had never fired a weapon in my life, although I used to play Duck Hunt and stuff like that; the closest I've come is pulling the trigger on a real but unloaded rifle hooked to a simulator.  There was no kick and no noise.  I didn't even know about the smell or the puff of expelled air and smoke, but my concerns were nevertheless ample.

But I had to try firing a real gun while I had the chance.  We once owned a small pistol for a few months; my husband had won it at a charity event back in Kansas.  It was a dull dark grey plastic, a colour that was mainly a void.  I touched it once and it didn't feel cold, just plastic; the inconspicuousness was unsettling.  It felt really odd just having it in the house even though it was closed up in a case tucked away in a closet and we didn't have any ammo.  My husband didn't like how the gun felt either, but how it fired, and it turned out that Cabelas buys weapons, so that was that.  I never fired it.  I didn't wish to fire it at the time, but later on, I regretted missing the chance.

I was passed a few pistols to hold at the party--I knew that they were unloaded but holding them was still so disquieting.  I was really doubting firing one.  But I had to try.

My husband gave me the safety drill and precautions, the sequence of loading and firing and unloading, the proper way to hold the pistol (although there are variations), the proper way to aim.  There's a fair bit to remember, but it was reassuring to learn it.  Then it came time to actually fire it.

This turned out to be actually incredibly simple, and peaceful. 

One dot.

Admittedly, there is a lot to consider when aiming, but when everything else in place, one dot (of the front sight) goes over the target--which shouldn't even be in focus at this point.  There is just one dot.  That's all.

The bang and recoil and smell comes later, after the simple peaceful instant.

I get sort of zen before power cleans--I have to empty my mind before heavier ones, otherwise they don't work.  But the focus prior to firing the pistol was much more intense and exclusive.  I forgot I was human, I forgot I was at a range, I even forgot I was holding a gun at times.  Just one dot.  As if it's the very first living cell of the entire universe.

Honestly, I loved it.  

I hit the paper on the first shot, which was apparently pretty good at that distance for anybody.  I tried a few different pistols and emptied four or five small magazines that afternoon.  No bulleyes, not yet.

I've taken many yoga classes over the years and a common theme has been 'being present'.  Silence the mental chatter, silence the mental chatter, I have continuously failed to silence the mental chatter.  My best efforts have merely muted it for a second or two.  How strange to finally totally shut it up during the antithesis of yoga.

sun

Basked in the SUN this morning.  5 C and bright.  It doesn't get much better than this.  I saw three other runners in and around the forest.

50 minute jog without a return of the left leg issue.   I thought about doing ab work afterward, but I've realized that I like doing it shortly before bed.  Unlike other workouts, it's not sleep disruptive; if anything, it seems to help me sleep more soundly.  A mere four minutes of discomfort followed by some stretching and yoga on a carpet*, all the while listening to music...it's a pretty soporific routine.

Edit: pushups: 12-13 per set, pike situps: 9-11 per set (man, that last set kills).  This sort of feels it could be a plateau, but there's only one way to find out for sure.


*Savasana is not only a legit yoga pose but the most important one, according to a few of my teachers.  It allows the body to integrate the work that was done and return to a calmer state.  Edit: the first point is neither here nor there because the second point predominates: final savasana = adult nap time.  Some teachers even distribute blankets and tuck students in!

~

Short jog in the morning, weights in the evening, and some stretching.

Admittedly, I haven't been doing squats, though, except as part of the iron cross.  There is a bit of squatting in power cleans, I suppose...at any rate, I don't like how squats feel with dumbbells or with the EZ bar (front squat).  My quads don't get the brunt.  Even with weighted goblet squats, I'm not feeling what I should be feeling.

Fortunately, pistol squats do the trick.  :/  Yep, gotta deal with it.

At least, I didn't feel the left leg issue at all today. 

pacing!

Bliss take 4...

Pushups, first set: 16.  Yeah! pumped! easy!
Sets 2-4: 12-14 and not easy

Situps: 5-12.  I was wiped by the end.  :/

No run today, just stretching.  Haven't felt the leg issue at all today. 

Cold rain

The dog and I are apparently rain dancers this week: almost every run or walk has enticed at least a little bit of drizzle.  I used to despise cold rain, but since the alternative here is heat and humidity, cold rain has become my friend.  We even remember each others' birthdays.

This morning, we headed out in mild drizzle, originally for a 1/2 hr or so in the closer woods.  However, that was too dull a proposition even though the hearty gunfire from a nearby training exercise was the perfect backdrop to pretending to be Hunted or The Last Survivor or whatever, especially since the guns were closer than usual and there was also a spooky quasi-fog...but, eh, I wasn't in the mood.

Weekends in the larger woods is sometimes the only opportunity for seeing other runners, and I needed some reassurance (yay, I'm not the only one with this hobby!) so we jogged there instead.  The left leg issue didn't crop up, but I remained attentive to form and avoided the tougher trails.  I wanted to stay out longer, but I kept to a sensible 50 minutes.  And we saw 2 runners.

We returned home in thick rain, and I did weights.  They seem to be helping.  I'm not exactly sure what the leg issue is--perhaps a complaining nerve--but I have been doing very little stretching recently, and yin yoga, what's that? :/  Probably I just need to stretch more.

Bliss, part 3

pushups: 12-13 per set
situps: 10 per set

Although, I got a few extra breaths because the poor internet crapped out several times during four minutes of youtube.  LOL

I still feel the left leg issue sometimes--for example, I didn't feel it during short intervals of running yesterday and today, but I felt it sitting down later today.  I had thought about a long run tomorrow, but that might not happen. 

Bliss, Part 2

It was my first time attempting 4(30 seconds of pushups and 30 seconds of pike situps) to the accompaniment of Bliss.  I don't have all of the transition points memorized yet.

It went quickly but arduously.

Pushups (wide-handed): 11-13 reps per set.  Not bad.  I thought about putting my hands more closely together, but I think this would shift the burn to my shoulders from my core--and I want it in my core.  I'm already doing other shoulder exercises.

Pike situps: 6-8 reps per set.  These were brutal.  Usually, I start feeling bad around rep 11 or so, but today I got only a couple or so freebies each time.  Yippee!  Situps are boring and so I appreciate getting to the discomfort more quickly.

I think this might actually be a core regimen that I might actually stick to.  My road to rock solid abs (or at least not-drooping-like-an-overcooked-noodle abs) has had many, many detours thus far.

~

Walk this morning, and 50 minutes on the treadmill this evening.  I can't get enough of Muse these days.  Their music videos compress time amazingly--I've liked a few of their songs over the years, but I had no idea what I was missing visually.  Anyway, I was aiming for an hour, but I started to feel a hint of the left leg issue, so I stretched, jogged for a few more minutes, and ended on a high note.  

And then weights.  The garage was at an awkward temperature: a bit too warm for running, a bit too cold for lifting.  However, the power cleans went really well: I generated more power during the first pull, which turned the bar to air again.  Now I have to avoid losing so much momentum prior to the second pull.

No ab stuff today.

Fumbling despair--NOT

I wasn't the only one to derive childlike glee from yesterday's football game, as it turns out.  This article explains it wonderfully.  Watching a game on green turf afterward was a let down.

Meanwhile, no snow here. 

Four minutes

of bliss.

Not discomfort.  4(30 seconds of pushups + 30 seconds of pike situps). That little bit lit the tinder of my lower abs.  It still hurts a bit.  But, oh, no, let's not call it discomfort.  Bliss.  Eventually, I may convince myself.

Meanwhile, I'll memorize the 30 second intervals in this song because I hate ab work, and I hate counting reps about as much as I hate waiting for an indeterminate beep signalling the end of a malevolently expanding time interval.  It's taken me this long (years, over a decade) to think about chaining ab work to a song I like.  Hopefully this doesn't mar the music!

My schedule has been thrown off by home renos, but at least the dog and I have been walking.

Mantracker!

It was raining and my left leg is still sort of messed up, so the dog and I went to the smaller, closer forest, and the rain turned to a downpour.

I figured that it might be a good opportunity for him to go off-lead.  This doesn't happen very often; I can't even remember the last time.  Basically, the weather has to be so crappy that I assume that nobody else is out.

However, when we got there, the gate was unlocked.  It doesn't bar people, just cars.  Perhaps a ranger unlocked it to back a truck in, then forgot it.  I didn't think the paths were wide enough for a truck.

However, once I got to a clear section, I saw new tire tracks.  ooo, let's find the truck!

To my amazement, running felt fine.  I felt sloppy about picking my left foot up over roots, though...I guess that was the problem.  I have to earn more clearance the hard way, not just sort of tilt my foot sideways. 

The ranger drove through an intersection ahead of us, and then slowed down.  We were still a fair ways off though, so we didn't catch him or her (incidentally, one of the female rangers might be a runner too).

Our jog/walk/mantracking was about 20-25 minutes, mostly in pouring rain. 

And then, weights.  A REALLY good workout.  The garage is cold and the Philly-Detroit "Snow Bowl" is on.  There's about six inches of snow on the field; football has turned from "something that other people watch" to a major source of buoyant joy.  I did the floor and dumbbell exercises in front of the TV, and went to the garage for the heavier stuff during commercials.

I'm almost back to my old numbers.  Things went so well that I thought about loading a bit more on the power cleans but, no, I have to be patient and add another couple of reps or so before I attempt it.  At any rate, muscle tinglies now.

EDIT: the best article I read about the Snow Bowl: bring it on!   Plus, whining about fans throwing snowballs.

~

2:15 with the dog.  It was great running weather, about 7 C and a little drizzly, but not humid.  Super for me, not so much for other people, I guess: it was almost empty in the forest.  When we got there, we jogged one loop, then did the next one as a fartlek. 

My mental soundtrack.  (kind of NSFW around 3 min, but I chose this version instead of the cleaner ones on youtube because the director also posted some illuminating insight here.  Admittedly, it took me a couple of plays before I got into the video, which is crazy because what's not to like about something that has kung fu, a Western saloon, a robot AND a unicorn?  The six year old me would have been all over that.  But I suppose I was in the wrong mood at first, but then I got on board.  This was even before I read the director's blurb, which perhaps suggests that I have an open mind.  As in, hopefully not leaking open.)

Unfortunately, I seem to have developed a new sort of glitch.  Near the end of my run, my left leg sort of seized up.  There wasn't a lot of pain, hardly any, in fact, but I couldn't bend my knee or swing my leg forward properly.  Running was too lopsided so I stopped to walk, and then something sort of popped and loosened up.  Then I could run, but just for several minutes before the problem returned.  Walking is fine, though, and fortunately I was on my way home by this point.

I can't remember having this issue before.  Possible culprits:

Incomplete recovery from the 50 miler.  Was this my longest run since?  I can't remember. 

Recent gluten mishap.  It's been pretty slight, and I haven't felt joint issues before now, but maybe they were brewing.

Different shoes.  Today, I wore the trail shoes I'd worn for the first 40 miles of the race, and they were fine then, but there were very few roots.  Unlike my home trails, on which trail shoes didn't feel agile enough.  I've worn them just once or twice.  They were too clunky even though they are actually the trail version of the shoes I usually wear.  Yeah, not quite their intended use, and I can't believe they're over two years old, but they've been fine except the mesh lets too much sand in after four hours or so.

Anyway, today, the trail shoes felt ok except I kept snagging my heels on roots at first.  There isn't much difference in the drop, 8 mm as opposed to 6 mm, and I'd thought I was adjusting well, but maybe this was enough to bung motion up after a couple of hours.  Maybe I was tilting my feet up towards the sides to clear the roots.  Who knows?  But it seems clear that they're not going to go the distance.

I'm a bit gutted because I was considering wearing the trail shoes for the ultra.  But plan B isn't out of reach: wear my usual shoes, take them off every couple of hours or so, and dump the sand out.  Surely my lazy butt can manage that at least.  I'm hoping to do a long run next weekend, so I'll give it a whirl then.

So I'm waiting for a plumber.

Is there any possible way to make that sound better?  All he or she has to do is move a shower drain.  I don't know what's down there but if it's just PVC, heck, I have a saw and PVC cement, and I could order the couplings on Amazon.  I don't even have to leave my house.

But I want to!

The plumber was supposed to come yesterday, but there were delays.  So I walked the dog and bummed around.  Eventually, I found out how much I've already forgotten about linear algebra, which I never understood completely.  I got an A- with possibly haphazard proofs and definitely sloppy matrix computations, shots in the dark...that subject is STILL under my skin.  I'm not used to not understanding something.  I've read that the best way to get past that is to struggle and fail to understand higher and more abstract concepts.

Anyway, I was watching a bunch of lectures (FYI, the gold standard are Gilbert Strang's), including this demo, whereupon I got hung up on visualizing something orthogonal to two separate vectors--but they're in the same space!  Duh! Fortunately, I sorted it out, but in my sleep. 

This was the second dream that woke me up last night, even worse.  The only thing I remember about the first dream was that it woke me up about 2 hrs after I fell asleep, but maybe I dreamed that too.  At any rate, I woke up again, and then slipped back into the zeds, this time into an office.  Then I went to the London Olympics with a choral group dressed in Tudor clothing (I was also listening to Tudor music again yesterday).  I wasn't part of the choir, I was just tagging along, although I split off to run laps around what appeared to be a train station (?!).   It was a highly unsatisfying run.  I kept messing up the laps and I had to weave around people and obstacles, including a large bin full of mail, and I wasn't even wearing running clothes.  However, I made it to the stadium in time for the performance, but one woman in attendance started dissing it (I was also watching episodes of The League yesterday, and she reminded me of Gina Gibiatti) and I ended up pushing her purse against her mouth to shut her up.  What?  I felt bad, and I felt even worse when another woman, a much nicer woman who had been helping me out throughout in the dream, asked me if I knew her name.  She knew mine but I was at a loss for hers: Enlerp/Ernlerp.  Something like that--and I've forgotten it again!--except that the Rs are rolled like French Rs.  That was really important to her.  I felt so guilty that I woke up so that I wouldn't forget the name, in vain.  Ernlerp?

Where did that come from, anyway?  I so rarely remember dreams; the ones I do remember usually have significant elements which I can usually trace back to whatever I'd done the day before.  Ernlerp, though, is mystifying.  So I googled it.  And now I'm even more confounded but at least I found somebody's cool site and an amusing coincidence.  I don't remember reading about nlerp before, but my memory is decidedly faulty.

By the way, I really like this woman's presentation and boardwork. Just got to throw that up here. 
Oh, and she does not resemble Ernlerp at all.  Ernlerp had no accent but was Asian.

And while I'm slinging around algebra videos: this series looks promising.  Meanwhile, I must go to Germany sometime.  Occasionally, I find something that seems so incredibly German, but I'm too ignorant to know for sure.  But maybe I shouldn't go because I might be disappointed.

Anyway, now I'm waiting for the plumber again.  Just walked with the dog this morning and it was already almost 20 C, and clammy.  I feel like I need another shower.  Actually, I DO need another shower, which the plumber is supposed to work on.  I also need another brain.  I haven't been sleeping that well this week, but nothing terribly out of the ordinary, until last night.  It was the pits.  It was a lot of work.

I also need new clothes.  But not from Sally Ann this time: new running bra, take four.  Whole other post, I think.

~

I felt off this morning (eh, guts), but was good to go this evening.  1 hr 20 on the treadmill and then weights.

I'd thought about watching part of the Berlin marathon but youtube served me a good string of music videos and time passed quickly.  However, my quads started feeling heavy near the end.  I wasn't breathing hard at all, not even close, so I don't think it was lactic acid, but maybe the music was pushing me more than I realized.  And it's been a while since I've been on the treadmill.  I'm not used to uniform and/or flat surfaces anymore, or the same stresses prolonged.  Still, it was really nice to not have to pick up my feet or have to watch where I was going!

Easy run wasn't easy

Because I had this song stuck in my head while I was running.  So, not a hard run either!

How to describe my run this morning

It was not like this.  Au contraire.

The dog wouldn't even get moving.  After a lot of coaxing, he left the bed...and I gave up and considered starting a mental Cyber Monday list with a CO meter.

Company has thrown us off our routines: he hasn't been getting his massages.  And I've realized that I haven't taken iron supplements for almost a week.  Plus, though I told our guests the kitchen rules (basically, keeping wheat products off the stuff I use, including towels and J-cloths), it's hard to remember this.  Plus we ate out a few times and, though most of what I ate was oysters and salads, I was tired of that salads by the last place, and they didn't have oysters, so I had grits.  I'm not feeling bad, just kind of run down.  I slept over 12 hrs a couple of nights ago.

Anyway, no dog: tempo run.  It was not like this.  Temp was ok 7-8 C (it's supposed to go up to 27 C on Friday), and there weren't too many cars out then and some of them made room for me, which is nice.  I still went on the shoulder except at the very end when a car pulled completely over into the opposing lane well in advance, before I had a chance to go back on the pine needles.  That made my path clear.  I had no qualms about staying on the road.  THANK YOU, super nice grey station wagon (Subaru?) driver!!  Plus, I was able to stay on the asphalt up the worst 2 hills, which was amazing.

3 sluggish miles, 22:21.  That's more my (lack of) speed.  It would help, though, if I did at least one tempo every week instead of just staying in this jog trance.  I've been lazy for months--yeah, I've developed a thick jog trance and I love it, but it wouldn't kill me to push a little sometimes.  But I'm not training for anything, sort of: I'm still on a waitlist for a January ultra and I'll do a long run in about two weeks for that just in case.  Fortunately, since I ended up running the other ultra, I won't be too gutted if I don't get in.  My main regret would be not knowing how many times I would've tripped.

Yeah, I went back into the forest on the way home and it was not like this.  I was sapped.  Total: 1 hr, 25 minutes of suckage.  It was good practice.  If I get into that ultra, I'll have to go up that long sandy hill 14 times, and after 6 or 7 times, I'll be tired.   And I'll have to make it through that tough rooty section 14 times.  I handled it ok today, but I let my guard down and snagged my foot on something later on--but didn't fall!  I tore my shoe and bruised my foot--but didn't notice either until I got home.  My foot is fine.  My shoe will be fine with a bit of duct tape. 

And then, weights.  Light power cleans to warm up.  They were not like this.* The garage is uninsulated, and I'd thought that the 30+ C days were troublesome, but turns out when it's too cold, I can't even get a proper grip.  The first rep, I couldn't get the bar up; the second rep, I got it up but couldn't get it onto my fingers at the top--it was snagged in my palm somehow.  That kind of hurt.  That was that.  Sucks to bail on an easy weight.  I went into the house and did some pushups and pike situps.  Maybe I can find an old pair of mittens that won't tear.  Maybe I'll have more energy next time.

Maybe the next run will be like this.

* Edit: by the way, the sound engineer here is a wizard--I used to spend hours and hours and hours with period instruments.  I know how lush they can sound in the right environment, but this surpasses superior acoustics.  And props to the harpsichordist.  Handel gave him only one written line of music and he had to extrapolate from there--so thick, dude! And yet some nice delicacy too when needed in the 2nd section, which sounds more like Lascia ch'io pianga than the next movement of the concerto, but, hey, folks switched things up all the time back in the day, and trunk arias don't get much classier than that (well, until they pimped up the ending in the movie, LOLZ, but folks did that all the time back then too).   Man, sometimes I really miss the tunes.

~

This has been a peak week for my digestive system. 

My husband and I jogged a few miles with the dog today, and everything felt so heavy.  Our week-long guests left yesterday and I didn't keep up with the drinking, I didn't keep up with my workouts, but I ate more than my fair share.  And my gluttony came to light during my run today.

"Oh, remember not the sins and offenses of my youth."

That dog can read!

Tuesday: nothing.
Yesterday: athletic gain at the expense of good planning.  I grabbed the dog and headed out for a short run, but we got rolling and I was feeling good, so I decided to push to a 3 mile point, just to see.  The dog was dragging a bit, but I was in his awkward pace zone--I couldn't go fast enough for his canter except on some of the downhills.  Anyway, total: 21:20ish.  This included a pee break (for the dog), waiting for cars, and running about a third on it on the shoulder, mostly on grass and/or pine needles.   Since my best three mile time is only about a minute faster, I was pleasantly surprised.  Although, I was pretty sick then and the weather was great yesterday.

And then we cut back through the forest and it got dark.  I had to walk a few portions.  By the time we got back to the road, the headlights were blinding, and then I realized my excellent choice of wardrobe: all black.  Yep.  Winner!  total run/jogged/walked: 65ish minutes.

Had a decent weight workout after that, though.  Lots of power cleans, with pushups, pike situps, delt flies, and clamshells.

TODAY:  Gotta say, I'm sitting pretty right now.  I'm eating leftover pizza, drinking chocolate milk, just had a nice run, and I have absolutely no schoolwork to worry about because I turned in my phosphocreatine shuttle paper yesterday, no illustration (well, sort of, but nothing pressing and I finished editing yesterday too), and the Macy's parade is on TV--actually, now it's a dog show, even better, and I'm going to totally plow through turkey and the works later and I can smell it cooking, and I've already done most of the prep, and after I finish this, I'm going to read a book for FUN.  It's been weeks.

Plus I recently gained major street cred.  Oh, yeah.

The dog and I jogged to the forest and did 1 loop.  Total 75 minutes.  And the scene this morning was great.  Temps just around freezing, super duper stuff, and more people than usual (ie, zero or one) out running, including two guys with dogs.  And one dog without anyone: the German Shepherd.  But it can read!  I just found out.

On our way back, we were on the opposite side of the road (the wrong side, but the shoulder is wide), and I looked ahead and saw a guy and a dog running towards us.  No prob.  We crossed the road to give them space.  And then I heard the bark. 

Oh, yeah, it was on.  I stopped my dog and myself, locked into what felt like a strong stance, held out my hand, looked that GS in the eye, and told it to "back off", just once, and it ran off.  It actually tucked its tail in between its legs, although perhaps was a combination of dejection and inbreeding (some GS dogs have a cringy sort of stance due to poor genetics).  The lazy **** owner didn't bother opening her door this time, but started rapping on her window, but the dog was already in retreat by then.  Ha, ha, your big bad dog is a wuss!  We resumed our run and passed the guy with the dog.  Maybe he was rushing to our aid, maybe he'd stopped, I wasn't paying attention, but he asked me how I was doing.

"Fine.  Happy Thanksgiving!"

I was more than fine.  I felt half total Boss, half, WTF?  That dog has never backed off that quickly before.   And then I realized that I was wearing my shirt from the Old Glory Trail Trot.  It is one of those inclusive race shirts: all the distances are on it, 50 mile, 50K, and relays (maybe the 10 mile too, I can't remember).  Plus the American Flag is on one of the shoulders.  Maybe the GS saw "50 mile" and freaked.  Like a wuss!

Wow, the German pinscher is a gorgeous dog...kind of looks like mine.

Winter!

It was -4 C when I ran this morning!  I didn't sweat much--I definitely didn't feel any sweat on my face.  That pooling of sweat on the underside of my chin...yeah, blech.   Instead, my face felt cold, but dry and wonderful.  The dog and I jogged about 80 minutes.

Some of the trails looked different due to a recent clean-up.  One trail in particular has been cleared of debris, and I was surprised to see how many roots are actually on it.  And I was surprised at how white its sand is.  I hadn't noticed that before.  It was almost as good as snow (in terms of minimalist aesthetic and inefficient footing/lack of ping).

I know which trail they should tackle next: one with especially protruding roots and deep piles of dead leaves.  I had my worst trip and fall on this section before it was so covered.  This morning, all I could do was keep my cadence and my feet up, and hope that it wouldn't hurt too much.

~

Fri: walk
Sat: 25 minute jog
Sun: 30 minute jog, plus modest weight workout.  My quads almost feel normal, although I didn't attempt any squats to check for sure.  It had been a long time since I last trashed my legs this badly, if ever.  It feels worse than after any of my marathons.  Big time myofibril renos.

Amazingly, these jogs were truly recovery jogs, on the "annex" sandy and slightly hilly trails close to my house--these felt tough when I first moved here, but they were blissfully easy yesterday and today.  The weather helped too: close to freezing today.  I felt like I didn't even actually sweat this morning.   Lovely.  I've been waiting for this for so long!  Too bad it wasn't a week earlier, but I just can't seem to shake too warm race weather, so I guess I just have to deal with it.

Anyway, it's taken only ten months, but now that I've finally acquired recovery run options that are convenient, I can run more.  I just can't do as much without those super easy runs.

My attempt to run home turned into a long walk

I managed about a mile on a nice firm sand path around a lake, but my quads wouldn't stop complaining.  I experimented a bit with form, trying to see if activating glutes would make a difference (a bit) or cadence, or whatever, and then I realized things never really stopped hurting, but I'd managed to distract myself.  I must remember this next time.

recovery

This morning, while the dog and I walked in the annex (small forest), a runner passed us three times.  I almost never see anyone else running in there.  It was a sign: get back out there.

I still feel a bit tender, though, so I just did some light power cleans and pike situps*.  However, tomorrow, I will attempt to run home from an exam.  8-ish miles.  It might be mostly walking, or perhaps 3.5 hours of writing and pensive thinking and panicked guesstimating will coil the springs more tightly than I could ever imagine.

*I can't believe it's taken me this long to discover pike situps.  I don't like core work because I find it either boring or fussy, and often both.  Situps are ok because they are simple, but they sometimes take an awful lot of time to get to the burn.   What typically happens is that I work up to about one hundred and then lose interest...I've done this a few times now.  Admittedly, I haven't tried them with weights, but pike situps seem to do the trick just as well, and perhaps target my lower abs and hip flexors more.  And pike situps are funny.  Close the book, open the book, close the book, open the book.  Or maybe a trap, a rusty old trap that doesn't close properly.  That's more accurate.

How it went down

I slept pretty well and we got to the start at about 4:30 am without any issues.  By the time I was in the corral, I was starting to feel too warm with a long-sleeved shirt, so I gave it to my husband to put in our drop bag (his race started later than mine).  I had a tank top on over my bra, but I'd pinned my bib to my shorts because I wasn't sure how warm it would get.  I wasn't crazy about the forecast high, but I figured I wouldn't be moving very quickly anyway.

I had my MP3 player tucked in my bra (and protected by a plastic bag just in case), but I didn't turn it on then.  It was dark and I didn't need distractions.  I put myself near the back of the pack and was soon dropped by almost everybody.  The lights ahead of me faded into the gloom.  However, it was easy letting everyone go on ahead (at other times, this has felt demoralizing if not scary).   I was trailing someone somewhat closely during the stream crossings, though, which helped.  There were four, and I could jump the first, but the rest were too wide--I tried, but I have poor depth perception even at the best of times and even though my light was adequate, I misjudged and got wet feet early on.  Fortunately, I'm not unused to wet feet, and I wasn't worried about it.   Meanwhile, it was really cool being in the dark all alone, rushing along a mysterious trail.  Fog added to the intrigue.  I had a flashlight, and there were glowsticks to mark the trail, but since some parts of the trail were narrow and through fields or forests without much undergrowth, it wasn't always easy to follow.  A few times, I veered into brush, including thorns.  However, there were only a few roots, and no rocks--there wasn't anything dangerous.

The first hour, and for most of the race, I was on my own.  I had no expectations, actually, and I had music on standby; I felt really comfortable.  That was my goal for the first two laps: wake up, then warm up.  It was going to be a long haul, nearly 20 miles further than I'd ever gone before, and I needed to settle into a good groove.

I got to the first aid station a bit after 6:00 am.  Just five miles.  10 percent, yeah!  I can't remember if I took Coke and/or banana chunks then, but these, and water, were the only things I took from the aid stations.  They also had cooked potatoes that looked really good, but I didn't want to burst my comfort bubble by asking about gluten (sometimes fries and other random things are coated in flour).

It was still dark, but the haze was lightening.  At one point, I thought I was running along a precipice, but it turned out to be a lake.  Sometime after that, I came to a confusing fork in the road.  It looked like I should go straight, but there was also a path to the left with signs for the trail.

Uh-oh.  I went down one option, and then down the other.  And then I remembered the trail description: tadpole, stay right.  The lap started at the tip of the tail, ran around the body, and back onto the tail.   But I wasn't sure if I was where the body met the tail, or on some different part.  Fortunately, two other runners caught up to me, confirmed that we should stay right, and I followed them.  They pulled ahead and I went back into my bubble.

They saved me 7 extra miles.  Turns out that some (most? all?) of the people ahead of me took the left turn.  On the one hand, I felt almost guilty, as though I had cheated; on the other hand, I felt relieved because, though I hadn't majorly detoured during my prior 50 mile attempt/DNF, I'd gone mildly off-track a lot, and I wouldn't have wanted that miserable "learning experience" to have been for naught.  It was before I'd found out that I can't do gluten, and I hadn't realized how weak I was then, and I probably wouldn't have made the first cut-off at any rate...but to DNF for the same sort of mistake a second time would have bit.  I might as well have chowed down on those cooked potatoes.

Near the end of the first lap, it was becoming light enough to see; I was switching my flashlight on and off.  It soon became apparent that we were back on the tail of the tadpole.  Back to the stream crossings.  This part of the trail was starting to get muddier, but it was still ok for running on at this point.  It got progressively boggier.  I keep my shoes loosely tied, and they didn't stay on my feet a couple of times, but I didn't lose them permanently or get them too full of mud.

There was also another potential false turn close to the end, but the two guys from before weren't too far ahead of me, and we sorted it out.

First lap: 10 miles, 2:06 or something like that.  It was nice to return to the startpoint--lots of cheering.  I ditched my flashlight, grabbed another gel, another bottle of mix, some more Coke and banana.

The second lap was pretty much like the first, except it was light, and I turned on my tunes.  At the beginning, I met the lead woman (and lead runner), Connie Gardner, leading a pack in the other direction--she asked me if I was doing the 50 mile.  Oh, so that's what the cheering was about.  Were the two guys and I the first ones through the first lap?  I told her there must have been a wrong turn.  I figured I was ok, because my first five mile segment had taken about an hour, and I'd taken two hours overall to do ten.  The math seemed legit, and well before my math moron stage (later on during long runs I attempt calculations, and fail).  I figured that they would catch me.

But when?  I made a few goals--please please don't catch me before the 5 mile aid station, the tadpole joint...etc.  I decided if I could hold off until the last stream crossing, that would be great, and I wouldn't be a hindrance on the path, nor feel like I had someone breathing down my neck.  I set off on the second loop and was like seeing the trail for the first time again!

And my feet hadn't retained any experience, either: downhill, heading toward one of the streams, I found myself in flight.  I got good air.  I'm not sure if I tripped or slipped: one instant, I was running, and the next, I wasn't connected to the ground anymore.   I landed on my left knee, left shoulder, and left side of my face.   My knee hurt, but I figured that maybe the shake loosened everything up.  It actually did, and I went on without incident, although I realized later that my left knee was kind of bloody.

There were a couple of Air Force guys stationed at the tail-head junction of the tadpole, and there were other people at the other dodgy intersection, which really helped.  Even though I'd been there before, I still almost messed up.   The two guys were still just ahead of me, but at some point, I passed them.  I don't recall when, maybe at the aid station.  I tried to stick in their vicinity, but eventually I guess I drew ahead.  EDIT: oh, I remember, I think: they stopped on the side to take care of business, and told me to not get too far away or whatever because I was part of their pack now.  So I stayed just ahead of them for a while and eventually pulled away.

Second lap: about 2 hours.   I was passed by Connie shortly before the last stream crossing.  Not bad.  Other people passed me later--unfortunately, I can't recall exactly when, and there more people out because the other races had started.  I was pretty much an island of tunes around the body of the tadpole, and then I took an earbud out on the tail because it was nice to chat with oncoming runners there, plus much of this was single-track and thus I wanted to hear if anyone was catching up.  At the end of the lap, I restocked and ditched my tank top.  It was starting to get warm.  I reapplied bodyglide after each lap after this, but still chafed.  I have lats now.  Ok, I'm a bit flabby too.

Third lap: about 2 hours.  Same-same, a bit warmer, the sun came out, Coke and bananas, I was passed more often than I passed others, mud, sand, glorious tunes.  Near the end of the lap, I started to feel sore.  That wasn't a surprise.

The last time I ran about 30 miles, the last couple were quite wretched.  This was a bit of a concern: was I facing 20 more miles of that?  However, the hip-quad tightness didn't seem to get worse, and my core was fiiiine, amazingly...but uphills started to prove troublesome.  However, once I got through the stream crossings and onto the body of the tadpole, and I knew for a fact that I'd gone farther than I ever had before, I felt overjoyed.  Yeah, it hurt, but it wasn't getting worse, and I was still moving.   I had been worried that the second last loop would be the worst mentally, but it was great.  I've rarely, if ever, felt more uplifted.  It was more than the usual endorphin rush.  It felt close to intravenous Demerol (surely that story is already in this blog somewhere).  Oh, so that's the runner's high.  AH.  Only took me, what, twelve years to get it?  Now I can quit!  (joking)

That glorious penultimate lap was also slow: about 2.5 hours.  Oh, well!  My husband had returned--he had finished his 50K in under 6.5 hours.  I'm so proud of him.   We heard about and signed up for these races last month, not really a last-minute decision, but neither of us had planned to run so far in November until then.  Anyway, it was a big boost seeing him at the start/finish area.  I ended up changing my socks and shoes because the mud and sand inside them was starting to bug me.  Otherwise, I felt fine, sore, but ok.

The last loop, however, was a bit too much of more of the same, I guess.  There were fewer people running by that point, which was kind of depressing.  And I was starting to get annoyed with the trees.  So many trees!  There were a few sections through forest that seemed to elongate with each repetition, and I started thinking ungenerous thoughts about witch trees leading me astray.  The lowest point in the entire race was during one of these sections.  I walked uphill and   

 barely     

                  made       


it.

My thighs were so sore.  I didn't have ITBS, nothing that sharp and localized, just burning.  I tried to walk as quickly as I could when I couldn't run, and it felt like my knee joints were hyper-extending.  I imagined a future of crawling up hills and, eventually, across the flats, and down hills.  A three hour loop that would break me.  Where the heck was that field with the weird smell that was just before the other field with rusted artifacts, including what looked like part of a moonshine still (I don't know for sure), that was just before the aid station?  By this point, I had formed a general, though still hazy, expectation of the trail, but those trees stretched on forever. 

And if I start talking about the sand, which was so many times worse....

I run in sand all the time.  Doesn't mean I want to buy it dinner.

After from that (and what more could I expect from the Sandhills region, anyway?), the trails were fine.  There was some variety, some challenging bits but nothing that extreme or difficult, and ten miles was a good distance for a lap, I thought.

Anyway, I got to the aid station, restocked, and thanked the volunteers again.  They commented about my smile.  Other people did too.  Yeah, I guess I was enjoying myself.  It's great seeing other people out running.  I rarely see anyone else except on weekends, and usually it's just a couple of people or so.  I don't mind running on my own, and I often prefer it.  I sometimes find it hard to adjust to someone else's pace, sometimes I can't talk much because of cramps, and my dog and I have a pretty killer bond--but I like seeing other people out when I'm exercising.  And, coming from urban areas where I saw many people exercising every day to a rural place where there just aren't that many people outside of their cars is sometimes a downer.  So, anyway, I appreciated seeing the other race participants and volunteers--the latter were especially helpful!  They refilled my water bottle for me while I scarfed down Coke and banana chunks.

The last time, though, my water and mix residue tasted funny.  Probably my sense of taste was jacked up by this point, but I thought it tasted like soap, and it made me feel nauseated.  So I didn't drink any water after that first dismal mouthful for the last five miles.  This turned out to my advantage: it forced me to push through as quickly as possible.  END THIS NOW.  

Near the end, a girl passed me.  I have no idea if she was a 50 miler, or relay runner--I figured that bib numbers 100-130 were for fifty milers somehow, but I didn't get a good look at hers.  Anyway, I followed her toward a small ravine/marsh area, and I saw a man in black on the other side of the ravine going towards us.  And then, when I got to the edge of the ravine, I saw her, but not him.  My first running hallucination!  I should have looked for a stump or something that could have tricked my eyes, but I was too focused on looking for Mr. Cash.

My last five mile section was a bit over an hour, while the 5 mile section before that took me nearly 1.5 hours.  I even ran up some of the uphills. 

It was nice to finish under 12 hours, that being my general expectation, no matter how much I'd tried to dispel it.

My stomach was messed up and I didn't eat any of the post-race barbeque even though it was gluten free.  I managed to eat some salmon spread at home, though, and I think I fell asleep around 8 or 8:30.

The last two nights of sleep have been kind of rough with inflammation and sweating, but today I walked the dog and, more importantly, stood up without having to push myself off with my hands--I didn't even think about it.  My goal is to run again by Friday, but I won't force it.  I did some delt flies with light weights and might try some situps this evening to get back into the grind.

At any rate, the Old Glory Trail Trot was an excellent way to finally become an official ultramarathoner!  Edit: I have to emphasize how pampered I felt by the volunteers and race staff--they really took care of me.  The folks at the Old Glory Foundation were really kind, too. 

Now what?  I'm not sure.  I'm still on the wait list for a January ultra, and I have no plans after that, although my husband talked about doing a marathon in March.   I'm going to do a long run in December, maybe another 30 miles, just in case.
 

I'm an ultramarathoner! For real!

A lot of it was a blur; hopefully that means this post won't be too long.  My husband and I ran the Old Glory Trail Trot.

After a while, time sort of ceased to be linear, so I'll just recap the highlights.

The good:
I got used to running with femurs of fire much more than expected.  My quads gave up on uphills after about 30 miles, but I was able to run downhill right to the end.

I'm an ultramarathoner!

My core didn't hurt at all, though my stomach got kind of upset after my last water refill tasted funky--I thought it tasted like soap, my husband thought it tasted chalky...not sure if it was the water or voodoo.  It was likely just my sense of taste gone awry.  (EDIT: highly doubt it was the water--probably some sort of chemical reaction due to the mix sitting out for so long in a warm day, and I didn't empty my bottle at the water station, just refilled it).  At this point, I'd been going for ten hours.

I didn't lose my shoes in the mud!

Everybody was so nice!  The other runners were cool, and the race staff were INCREDIBLE!  SOOO helpful.  They helped me refill my water bottles and helped me clean a wound at one point.  The race was hosted by a horse farm and the staff were also super cool.  One guy helped me hose off most of the mud at the end, and offered me use of an indoor shower--I did take up his offer of an indoor bathroom to change.  Much better than a portaloo.

Miles 30-40 were euphoric! Really.  I realized that I'd run further than ever before (well, technically after mile 31 or 32), and I was still feeling surprisingly strong even beyond the final frontier.   I never had that thrill during my first marathon nor the times I've run over that distance--it took me completely by surprise.

And I didn't really get lost.  A bunch of people ended up doing about seven extra miles, and these trails weren't forgiving.  Had that happened to me, I might have lost heart and quit.  But, fortunately, I was so slow on the first lap in the dark that I didn't get swept off course by the front
runners.  I had my moments of bushwhacking in the dark, and I had to backtrack a bit (twice) at one intersection, but not more than a few minutes.  I'm wondering if this is the intersection where others got lost.

Running with tunes ROCKS.  Utterly ROCKS.  OMG, that was my saving grace.  I had a mix of trance, ambient, and Laurie Anderson, and though I didn't make a playlist and didn't mess around with it except during a low point when I wanted to listen to One Thousand Suns umpteen times in a row, the songs that came up were perfect.  It seemed that whenever an ambient song or Laurie came up, I was reading for something more meditative, and then the return of trance was well-timed and pumptastic.  I'm going to use tunes for future ultras, if I run anymore, but I don't want to get into the habit.

And, TMI, I had just one poop before the race--victory!  pre-5 am is not one of my usual times, and even on the best of days, it's usually multi-daily, and races are worse--but I guess my bowels never even woke up!  In general, I'm very proud of my guts.  They held in there great until the soapy/chalky/wtf water.

Oh, yeah, and I saw my very first running hallucination.  I was running toward a ravine and I saw a guy in black running toward me, and then he dipped out of view--and vanished.  There was nowhere he could have gone.  I suppose I saw a tree and my brain tricked me.  I'd read about running hallucinations and was curious about experiencing one.

The bad:
After mile 40, things got pokey.  I had to switch shoes and socks because they were filled with mud and sand, and my 2nd pair of shoes weren't a good choice.

Because I found out that at least a few of the 50 mile runners had done 7 (!!!) extracurricular miles, I felt guilty.  For some of the 2nd lap, I may have actually been in the lead, but I was caught eventually by the people more deserving of spots on the podium.

Sand sand sand sand.  The muddy portions were short and the stream crossings were decent, no loose slimy rocks, but there were miles and miles of stupid loose sand.

Way too warm--a few hours of 23 C, so I sweated off bodyglide despite a few reapplications and my lats are now developed enough--still puny, but there--that they chafe against my arms, which they didn't use to do even when I was, uh, squishier in general.

I'm not sure I'll ever get my feet entirely clean again.

I kept running off the trails while it was still dark, including into thorn bushes more than once.  Some of the trails were weaving single track and kind of hard to follow even with a light.

I also ran into thornbushes a few times after dawn.  I somehow pricked my left index finger and it feels fine now, but was a distraction during the race.

I should check if my tetanus shot is current.


The really ugly.
I bailed spectacularly on a downhill during 2nd loop, when it was light.  I hit the ground with the left side of my head, my left shoulder, and my left knee, and it looked kind of gruesome, especially my knee.  Someone took my photo and then a volunteer helped me clean the wounds as best as possible, and I scrubbed as much dirt out as I could in the shower, but I couldn't get every last bit out.  Hopefully, my jaw isn't going to start to get stiff.

Stupid stupid sand!  And I'm keeping it clean here!

But hey, for a supposedly tough 50 mile trail race, I didn't fare too badly!  11-ish hours--I kept to 12 minute miles until 30 (these felt comparable to 9:00/mile on roads, just jogging, but tiring after a while), and then that wasn't feeling so hot anymore, but my last 5 miles was only just over an hour.    I was told that this is one of the toughest 50 milers out there, and that sand really sucked, but my DNF race was considerably worse because of loose rocks and a lot more water.  And there were hardly any roots to contend with.  I suppose the footing wasn't "technical",  but draining.

My husband did well too, 50 K in 6:30, and he's actually moving around.  As for me, I think I'm going to get fused to this couch.

bounce trounce

My taper has mainly consisted of not bolting about for the past two or three days.  It's a hard habit to break.  Resisting feels disappointing and even uncomfortable.  When I was a kid, my father tried to stop me from running up the stairs by making me walk up them however many times I'd run up them to that point.  Finally, somewhere past 40 reps, he got bored and I was left to dash with impunity.  I wasn't even trying to be a brat: I just couldn't help myself.  It feels so good. I've even bolted in various workplaces.  Stairs and working odd shifts without too many people about helps a lot.  Wearing polypro booties doesn't always, but I refrain from bolting around corners as much as possible.

Anyway, I've bolted only twice in the past two days.  It feels really weird.  This is the first bolt-free taper I've attempted.  Surely I'm very tightly coiled by now. 

And I've been eating a lot.  I'm presently eating kimchi and rice (I have no issues with chili peppers, just gluten), and then I'll eat some pasta.  Meanwhile, I'm also putting together my kit.  Thank goodness it's a loop course--I'm bringing what looks like a lot of food, but I will be able to get at it roughly every 2 hours/10 miles (hopefully I'm not slower than that--I'm really hoping that these trails are tight).  I don't know what they'll have at the aid stations that I can risk.  Even potato chips can be dodgy.  So I'm bringing my own, plus I'm going to bake GF pizza tonight and bring that too, and maybe some more kimchi and rice as well.  It would rock if they had GF hotdogs there.  Hotdogs are super mid run snacks.

Other things I've ingested during long runs and races include beer (before I found out about the gluten issue, but I always had light beers which went fine), ice cream, bubble tea, various smoothies including this killer beet-carrot-ginger combo a store at home makes, hotdogs, sausages, Indian desserts, Persian desserts, sesame balls, coffee, French fries, hotdogs, pasta (controlling volume is very important with pasta), bananas, stupid bananas, sushi, fudge, random Asian snack foods, meat-on-a-stick, Doritos, hotdogs, and Makgeolli which I JUST learned has wheat in it.  No wonder it really messed me up--it was downright malignant, that stuff.  The most painful time was actually after a race.  I was the only non-Korean at this race (I was actually using a South African friend's bib, but we figured that there wouldn't be an issue with packet pickup because all white people look alike anyway, and they do after a while), and so I made a bunch of acquaintances, and one of them gave me a cup of what I assumed was soy milk.  Oh, no, it wasn't.  But I was polite and finished it, and then I suffered through stomach cramps during a performance of Henry Purcell's Dido and Aeneas that evening, and then I went to my friend's birthday party (bar crawl? I can't remember), but I lasted until only 2 or 3 am because hair of the dog doesn't work too well with soju, got into a cab, which got into a minor accident, and the language barrier and cramps became too much and I bailed and spent the next hour and a half walking home.  I still miss Seoul a lot.

Anyway, with eating on the run, the trick is to take it super easy and let it settle down for a bit, and not immediately leap into action.  And I can't have apples.  Oranges and lemonade are fine, but apples usually give me stomach cramps unless I have just a little bit.  In general, I don't mess with fruit except bananas.

At any rate, I am going to be bringing tunes to this thing.  I've never run with tunes except on the TM and during one winter in Ottawa when I was running on the Canal--plenty of room on the ice--and those weren't even tunes but microbiology lectures.  Usually there's enough to see or think about without music (it's sometimes fun to determine precisely why I'm feeling so rotten), but I'm going to need all the help I can get tomorrow.  I figure the first 10 or 20 miles, I'll be fine, and then I'll likely be too smelly to socialize anyway.   The high will be 24 C.

Cold front

STAY! STAY!

A lovely -5 C this morning, and then I jogged 8 miles back from an exam in a still decent 11 C and I'm feeling pretty relaxed...I love this weather.  I've been waiting for it for months.  The only drawback is that everybody's bundled up, even indoors, and while I was writing my exam, I could smell cigarette smoke on people's jackets.  For three hours.   Worth it.

But this is a cold front, and not normal temps, and we're going to swing toward the opposite extreme just in time for the weekend, yay!  When I'm supposed to jog/walk 50 miles! Yippee!  At least the previously rumoured forecast of a high of 80 F doesn't look likely, but, man, cut me some slack!  What's wrong with this nice refreshing high of 11 or 12 C or whatever?  So far, it's looking like the low will be that, if I'm lucky.

{remove obscene warm weather in late November rant}

Whatever.  Really, Dixie, is this the best you got?  You pulled this shit when I ran the OBX marathon several years ago (that was the first time I saw another runner pass out, I think), but I got through it.

Even better, I have to start at the ridiculous hour of 5 am (I'm kind of bitter about that because, when I signed up, the start time was listed as 9 am), so I should be mostly almost comfortable for the first few hours, as long as it's not so humid that I stop sweating, and then hopefully I will stay in the endorphin funzone until I get sick/bored of running and/or injured and then, heck yeah, I'll have a walk in the tropics.  Seriously easy going.  Which is exactly the attitude I need for this thing because I've never actually done 50 miles before.  My last attempt was a DNF.

Whatever.

////////////

Saturday: 1/2 hour jog, tide too high (soft sand) but still decent compared to the sand here

Sunday: 2 hour jog, well-timed and nearly perfect except for the camber of the sand was a bit tiring after a while, and there were a couple of loose dogs.

Monday: 1/2 hour jog, even better timed and nearly perfect except for one rather memorable loose dog, once it broke free of a toddler's leg--more about that--

Tues: 3 hour jog, great weather (7-12 C), but back to the soft torn up pocked sand, liberally seasoned with leaves, pine needles, roots, branches, horse poop (but no snakes this time).  Some of the horse poop was fresh. 

Ok, Monday, we ran on the beach, and the sand was practically perfect.  Flat, firm, and not too many shells or loose dogs.  WHY DO PEOPLE LET THEIR STUPID DOGS LOOSE?  There are signs all over the place stating that dogs must be leashed.  I keep thinking I'm going to lose my shit the next time I hear "Oh, but he's friendly" or some other variant, or see that certain apologetic helpless smile: dogs, what can you do, eh?  Heck no, you're better than this!  Buy a leash!  It's not rocket surgery.

Anyway, without loose dogs to wonder about, I got into a zone, and then I saw a large-ish dog sitting with a small-ish kid on the beach, close to an adult surf fishing.  Uh-huh.  Let's see what happens.  I hoped the adult would notice and secure the dog in time.

Nope!  He caught a fish, saw us, but turned back to the surf, according to my husband.  I was preoccupied by the dog and its advance.  It probably weighed as much as the kid; it was no contest.  The leash was around the kid's leg, and the dog hit a decent speed and dragged the kid several metres before the leash slipped off.  Freed from resistance, it bolted after us.

My husband had our dog, so I intercepted the other dog and, after a couple of good pulls (how the heck did that adult ever think that such a small kid could match that strength?), it gave up, but not before it slid out of its collar.  Fortunately, dogs aren't always that observant--every time I've popped or slipped the collar off a strange dog, I've been able to get it back on before it noticed.  Same thing this time; I slid it back on before the dog bolted, and then I looked up, saw the bawling kid and the owner still fishing--it was a rather striking tableau actually.  Tears and ocean spray, one captive hooked by a bloodied mouth, the other breaking free.  I felt bad for the kid, but mainly ticked off because I was still holding this random dog and the owner (father? older brother) was apparently oblivious.  Perhaps he couldn't hear the screaming.  Perhaps he also didn't hear the words out of my mouth: "Come and get your fucking dog." Oh, yeah, oops.  You know, for losing my shit, that was tame.  I didn't even yell.  But I glanced again at the kid and felt exceedingly low.  At least he was too far away to hear me over his own wailing, I think.   The dog heard me, at any rate, and it sat down and gazed at me with beautiful sad brown eyes.  Sometimes, when I'm holding other people's dogs, I look into their eyes and see what looks like pleading.  Take me with you.  Take me away.  I wish I could, but I can't.  Not this time.  I'm sorry.  Finally, the owner grabbed it, said something apologetic, I replied, "it's ok", mostly to the dog, and we ran off, the kid still screaming in the background.  I guess that's a good dose of childhood trauma right there.  Fortunately they were absent on our way back.

Anyway, today's run was far less uneventful.  I met one other person, another runner, about halfway through our first loop.  I got excited because, even though I have no way of knowing what route a random runner will take nor even if they'll do a repeat, I want to beat them.  Even with fit guys (and there are a number of SF guys living here), I have to try.  Worse still, I was intending an extra-relaxing run, but I decided to squeeze some ping out of comfort.  Just a bit.  While I was back at the ranger station drinking out of a water fountain, she passed us and went back into the forest.  Yeah, it was still on!  I still took the hills lazily--I've been envisioning the hills lasting an hour apiece, in order to sink into the true lack of effort I'll need during a super long run--but I pushed on the nice downhills sections.

There are two, when I go clockwise.  One of them isn't the best, still some sand and roots, but it's decent.  The other is my favourite stretch.  Even uphill/counter-clockwise, it's pretty nice.  Downhill, though, it's a great mental and physical break.  Pea gravel and dirt, gentle undulation, very few roots...even the snakes like it.  Yeah, I've seen the most snakes on this stretch, including one of the copperheads.  The trail had more dead leaves on it this time, and so my first pass was rather hesitant and a big downer because I was deprived of the best part.

However, on the second loop, I was on to beat the other runner and, as I approached the lovely snake stretch again, I remembered something I've learned recently thanks to an assignment: the appropriate antivenom, CroFab goes for all pit vipers.  This is a great relief!  Honestly, I've been a bit concerned about getting bit, failing to study the pattern adequately, and getting injected with the wrong antivenom.   Nope, turns out that all the poisonous herps here are pit vipers, and pretty much all of the harmless ones are black.  Surely I can hack that.  It's not rocket surgery!

With that reassurance, I tore through that section.  Wakey wakey, Snakey!  I figured if I went fast enough, I would--actually, that's a really lousy attitude for avoiding predators, but it works great for picking up speed and a bit of a thrill.

But we didn't see the other runner at all!  I was beginning to wonder if maybe she'd gotten bit instead, and we'd find her and run back to the ranger station and ask them to call an ambulance and rev up their four-wheeler or whatever their SOP for snake bite victims is.  I think I overthink things but, honestly, running here is really, really, boring; I'm not into nature that much.  Some weeks, my highlight has been reencountering the "Library Viking" guy (sadly, I haven't seen "Serious Green Shirt" guy or "Shirtless Zen" guy (who actually won the ultra last month here) in a while).  I prefer urban rec paths because it's more interesting seeing a bunch of other people than trees and horse poop--actually scat can be intriguing, but I rarely see anything here but horse poop.   There's no mystery in that.

We didn't get bit, we didn't see the other runner again, but I still felt a bit amped up so we did a third loop.  52, 47, 51 minutes.  Total jogged just over three hours.  No walking except down a short steep stretch that always makes me stumble unless I walk (it's a bunch of closely-packed roots covered with pine needles and then a few stairs, and I've failed to find a good line through it).  This was decent though still easy run--I wanted to run relaxed for a while to get my body primed to soak up whatever it needs to soak up in prep for the ultra this weekend. 

And now it's time to eat sensibly and rest.  I'm undertrained but in decent shape.  My guts are better now and the only weird glitch I seem to have is a pinch or something in my left hip (it happens when I squat or lunge with poor form: muscle and the hip bone have a bit of an altercation, and the hip bone wins).  Funnily enough, I also rammed that exact area into the sharp corner of our counter earlier this morning.  I am kind of bouncy and I get hurt in the house more often than outside it because of the corners and stairs and doorframes and so on.  At least I don't have stairs in this place--two of our former dwellings didn't have enough clearance above stairs and I used to hit my head--and I'm short!  At any rate, I have to tone it down for the next few days.

Goodbye, hills

I finished and submitted my essay--did you know that tuberculosis has its very own journal?--and now I have to throw a few things in a bag because we're going to the beach for a few days!  That means more sand, but flat, and fresh fish.  Gotta hand it to the Outer Banks.

I'm especially pumped because, for the past few days, I've been living on sweet potatoes and rice noodles.  Fellow hosts of intestinal turmoil might recognize this as a variant of the classic bananas and congee/rice gut-calming diet.  Throw ginger ale in there too, and it becomes a surprisingly comfortable menu.  The longest I went on it was about two weeks.   This was before I knew that gluten was the culprit, and so I gorged myself on it during Christmas before going to Asia, where my system jumped at the chance to purge itself once it realized that I'd switched completely to rice.  Bye bye wheat, bye bye appetite.  It was actually not unpleasant. 

The only problem with the banana-rice-ginger ale trifecta is that I despise bananas.  As bland and soothing as they are lower down, they provoke revulsion higher up.  I loathe the taste and the texture often makes me gag.  The more I eat them, the more I hate them.  But their convenience can't be beat and so I choke them down. 

Fortunately, there's also a good chunk of potassium in sweet potatoes!  I'm probably missing out on vitamin C by nuking them, though, but a few days won't bring on scurvy.  Plus, Emergen-C.

Even more fortunately, I broke my diet last night with a small slice of gluten-free pizza without ill effects, and so it's on.  Fishies, beware.

I'd thought about lifting before we leave, but I still feel kind of drained.  Maybe just a few power cleans for funsies.

weights

Just a walk in the forest today.  Matters have improved, and the forest is rather a forgiving environment, but the sustained internal jostling of running would have tempted fate.

But that's not a factor during weightlifting, especially in my garage with a bathroom steps away.  Yeah!  Although, I didn't do squats, just in case.

I repeated the impromptu workout I did last time:

power cleans
delt flies
pike situps
power cleans
clamshells

X3

It's short and targets what I can't neglect.

The power cleans were better today.  I ended up with two sets at the heaviest weight I used last time and they felt fine.  And I got reacquainted with a certain moment.  Just after the starting exhalation, just after the first impulse, when muscular force is countered by mass X acceleration, the deciding tension yanks against my fingers (more so than my palms)--that tug tests commitment.  When I haven't fully invested, the pull is spongy and slow, and the outcome is sloppy.  However, if I've focused properly, the pull is sharper and stronger, and it provokes a violent response that strips away mass and fatigue.  The bar disdains gravity and sails serenely upward.  As though it launches from a dark pit of spikes into a cerulean sky, dragging me with it.

THIS is why I like this exercise!  After weeks of struggling, it's back.

I tried to find music to capture this feeling, but failed (best I could think of was a combo of Autechre Fol3 and Lully's Te Deum, but I have no idea what to search for, what it would be called, nor even if it's been composed yet), but I discovered the Shredlord instead!

!!! not about running at all!

Really shouldn't've sipped that beer.  Blammo!

Eh, I didn't get enough sleep anyway for a decent run, once again.  Distractions.  The final stage of my final assignment for a immunology course includes an essay about a pathogen, and naturally I didn't start thinking about this until going to bed at about eleven because I'm most productive at night.  Pick a Pathogen, Any Pathogen!  Usually Pathogen picks YOU.  Nice to have the choice for once!  So I lay back and thought of the possibilities.

C. tentani can't be beat for individual drama, I think.  There are other bugs with shocking symptoms and larger swaths of destruction, but risus sardonicus leading to full-on tetany is particularly spectacular.

And then, I turned to more noble considerations.  The essay prompts include describing vaccination.  What if I somehow found the missing key to crushing malarial merozoites?  Millions of children would then survive and prosper, wiring their villages for electricity and internet = blogging.

But laziness and self-loathing prevailed.  A virus is a simpler target, and influenza is just as epic.  Antigenic variation pretty much screws the pooch (NOTE FROM THE DOG: STOP SAYING THIS ITS NOT FUNNY (the dog doesn't understand punctuation)), but it might be fun to describe the limitations of vaccines that are shots in the dark. Oh, let's pour millions of dollars into R&D for flu season next year, and meanwhile that devilish little bug is like, nah, I'm going to change this instead, 5'-GUAUUAAUAAXetc is the new black, smell ya later!

My hubris quickly led to despair, which led to fungi.  Unfortunately,  the only agent I could think of at that hour was C. albicans.  Yeast infections.  Yep.   This led my ungenerous mind towards chlamydia, gonorrhea, hepatitis and a certain Canadian large-breasted starlet and Josephine Bonaparte (who was possibly rendered sterile from a gonorrhea or chlamydia infection).

And then, in pursuit of lost innocence, I thought of childhood vaccinations.  How about those diseases kids don't get to experience these days? Odd story about the MMR combined vaccine...when I was going through the U.S. greencard process, I had to pay an approved USCIS Civil Surgeon to sign my form I-693, and so my chest was x-rayed, blood was drawn, and my immunization records were looked at.  I actually didn't meet the doctor in person and I don't know if he did much except notice that I hadn't been vaccinated for chickenpox = $$.   I had had chickenpox but wasn't taken to the doctor because it was just chickenpox--I had no proof.  I didn't think chickenpox was on the USCIS go list or whatever, but the doctor had latitude and it would've cost more to pay another Civil Surgeon to start over.

So, I got the shot for chickenpox (and possibly an invitation for mutant shingles later in life), and then Surgeon Greed took another look at my records and, oh, it was unclear that I'd had an MMR re-up= $$.  Guess there wasn't enough of my blood sample left to check antibodies.  The prospect of I-693's cost proliferating to four figures was dismaying; I was already out several hundred bucks.  An army doctor (unfortunately not an approved Civil Surgeon) took a look at my records, re-transcribed my shot record, and put my dual MMR vaccinations in clearer context.  Surgeon Greed signed my I-693, but he was evidently stripped of his Civil Surgeon designation by the time I had my USCIS interview.  Yep, massive sketchiness, and potential complications: more $$, another random doctor off a list (no customer reviews available), another virtual rectal exam added to the routine.  However, after a few anxious minutes clicking on the computer, my USCIS interviewer decided to just let it go.  RELIEF!  However, later on when I was working at a hospital and my blood antibodies were screened, it was discovered that I needed an MMR booster.  So maybe Surgeon Greed was right after all.  I could've caught mumps!

Meanwhile, I still haven't picked a pathogen.  Present conditions remind me C. diff  but feelings are still too raw.  Not a nice way to wake up.  No soup for you.

I have until Thursday.  Back to the books!

Tapering!

I'm once again dealing with a dietary reaction, but the weather is very agreeable.  Only 10 C this morning!  Easy 80 minute jog. 

At any rate, the last back-to-back runs didn't happen this weekend, and now it's time to rest.

Easy running so I don't forget how to run
Lots of fluids to eliminate present gut inflammation
Lots of sleep to get out of debt
Supplements, mainly iron to plump up those RBCs.  Even on trails, I squash a fair number of them and it doesn't help that I seem to be back to renting food.  (The bright side is, dropping a few pounds sensibly will make things more comfortable on race day!)
A bit of weight lifting to keep the springs

I feel undertrained but in otherwise decent shape.  The back tightness I was dealing with recently is mostly gone, and though the previous glitch in my left Achilles returned, it was not en force and I didn't even feel it this morning.  The gluten-related inflammation is a bummer, though, and the same seemingly disparate quirks have returned: sore guts, yep, left knee somehow slides out of joint in my sleep and locks, yep (my right one does too, but my left one leads the way), weird respiratory discomfort, yep, right shoulder tightness, yep.  But nothing is that bad and I have almost two weeks to get rid of it all. 

Time to play gluten FBI.  Possible culprits include a certain "gluten-free" beer--the gluten is removed and the batch tested to below 5 ppm, which seemed fine.  Gluten-free food, at least in the States, just has to test below 20 ppm, and I don't think I've ever had any issues with that limit. And I had just one sip.  One delicious sip, followed by a sinking feeling: I don't think I should be drinking this.  Maybe I was right.

I've also eaten a bit of Hallowe'en candy, just stuff that is gluten-free according to manufacturers, but it's not stuff that's tested and I don't need to be eating it anyway.   It had been a few weeks since I'd eaten candy, and I'd lost the taste for it, and I ate it mainly because I was bored!  Serves me right!

I haven't eaten out in weeks, and haven't eaten anything else that I usually don't eat except for a new kind of almond meal; there's not much else that can account for it.

Multitasking!

While I'm making pancakes (in this case, hopeful long run fuel), I might as well try to figure out the vigorous highlights of a 1/2 week that apparently got swallowed up.

Every morning: walk/half-hearted short jog.  It's been warm and humid.

On Friday morning, we met two loose dogs in the forest, a pit mix and a mystery.  No owner in sight.  So I stopped and moved so that the dogs wouldn't come straight at us, for my dog usually doesn't like meeting canine Lord Nelsons: "Never mind maneuvers, go straight at 'em!".  Meanwhile I talked to the dogs and did my best to keep the mood light.  I didn't know these dogs from Adam, but they didn't appear to be aggressive, and they weren't after all.  The pit mix, another male, was pushy, but tempers didn't fray.  The owner showed up after a minute, but failed to call off her dogs .  By this point, we were on our way again with the dogs trailing us--and when I passed the owner, I managed to reciprocate her pleasantries with a smile (I'm taking a Bless your heart attitude to these people who either can't read or can't leash their dogs), but she stopped me.  She said our dogs looked alike.  As it turned out, they did: their heads were a similar shape, and, as it turned out, both of them had had their ears cropped off with scissors before they were "rehomed" with us.  :(  I told her that scissors were the scumbag tool of choice, and she laughed.  That was nice.  Very few people laugh at my jokes below the Mason Dixon line, even though I keep them very clean and non-political/non-religious.  We talked some more, and while I don't agree with her dog-handling completely, especially since she admitted that her pit mix could be belligerent with other males and yet lets him run loose, we found some common ground.

Yesterday: 2 hr 15 min jog with the dog, and then weights.  The jog was about as typical as they come: warmish weather, 21-22C and humid, but no major issues.  The weights, however, were dramatic.  I warmed up with some power cleans, 40 pounds below my all-time best, and then I cleaned and squatted 20 pounds below my all-time best--but just one rep.  The clean was horrible and almost incomplete, and the squat was about as good.  I'd miscalculated: I was tired out. 

Yet I didn't walk away.  Maybe I needed more of a warm up.  I could still do the injury prevention stuff (delt flies and clamshells) and throw in some pike situps--but, above all else, I couldn't leave the power cleans messed up like that, not again.  So I took off 20 pounds again and started over.  I alternated between power cleans and other exercises.  Once I felt more comfortable, I put 10 pounds back on and did some more reps.  10 more pounds, and more reps, and more confidence and, unexpectedly, more aggression and more speed.  I realized then that I'd been overly cautious; I had to trust that my form was well-practiced enough.  I had to become that pit mix and/or Lord Nelson: "Go straight at 'em!"  Just fling it up.  ASAP

And then, finally, I did three reps with 10 more pounds.  Still 10 pounds under my all-time best, but that dates from a while ago--I was actually at my present max.  It felt brutal--not painful or hard at all, but emotionally vicious.  It was actually thrilling and cathartic.  I would have done more reps, but my dog distracted me.  He was lying on a pile of packing mats, like he usually does, and he knows better than to step on my square when I'm lifting stuff, but perhaps he sensed my sudden burst of temper and was coming over to check it out.  Fortunately, he was not, and I completed my set.  I wound up 10 pounds heavier than the first failed clean. Success!

I'm not so sure we'll salvage today's long run after all...we both seem to have a cold, or allergies. 

EDIT: aw, I forgot to mention that 50 minutes of that jog was a fartlek session.  I pushed on the parts of trails that I like, and slacked off on the annoying stretches.  This was considerably slower than pushing through the entire loop, but I don't think my breathing dropped much at all during it.  And it was more fun because I went faster on the nice bits.

cleaner cleans

I haven't run in the past two days...I went to the forest with the dog with the intention of running, but the jacked up temps and humidity were a powerful dissuasion.  Tomorrow is supposed to be 23 C, but the low in between should be 13C, so maybe a more comfortable jog is in my near future.

At any rate, weightlifting this evening went really well.  My numbers are finally closer to what they used to be, still pitiful, but less so.  The power cleans were perhaps a bit messy, and definitely not euphoric, but they were mentally solid.  Other exercises such as the bench press and overhead press initially seem more fraught with danger, but the prospect of dropping something heavy on my face can't compare to ramming it against my larynx and knocking myself flat backwards, and then dropping it on my face.

However, I suppose I've gotten over most of that, or at least accepted it, and I can focus on the motion instead of its perils.  If the past is any guide, however, the perils aren't done chirping.  There will be waves of insecurity.  If I'm lucky, I'll get some good numbers out of the crest until I'm tossed in the trough again.

As for running, I'm in a sandpit, but mainly literally.

YEAH!

Just sent the goods out!  I did it!  Still counts as today, or yesterday, or today yesterday....  Meanwhile, a drop of all-nighter fuel. 

Don't think I'll be running today.  Gotta grab a few quick ZZzzs, and then over the next hurdle--