"Friggin' dog..."

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The other day my brother-in-law, Grant, was standing in their back doorway with my nephew, Jake, who's almost 4. They were letting the dog back in the house. Abby is getting a smidge older and does that dog thing where she'll just stand in front of an open door, cock her head and look at you quizzically, like, "What exactly am I supposed to be doing here?"

So they're standing there and all the air conditioning is leaving the house and Grant says, "Abby! Come on."  Abby meanders past them into the house and Jake shakes his head solemnly as he watches her pass. Then Grant hears him  mutter, "Friggin' dog..."

Grant looks up at Nicole. "Oh, real nice language you're teaching the boys."

"Hey," she said. "You're lucky it wasn't the real thing."

Cracks me up. I can only imagine the blue streak that would be coming out of my kids mouth. Frankly, I'm surprised the cats don't walk around muttering "Shit" and "damn it."

Cheers,

Dena

The Walking Wounded

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Today's blog title comes to you courtesy of Blair, who remarked at the end of today's 30k race that most of us runners resembled little more than the walking wounded as we compared our aches, pains, and where we fell apart on the trail.

I'm happy with my performance. I had 2 goals for today: One, to keep running - no walking. And two, to finish under 3 hours. I made both. I ran 18.6 miles non-stop in 2 hours, 56 minutes and 47 seconds.  That amounts to a 9 minute 30-second pace. I was hoping for closer to a 9:15 or 9:20, but I'll take it.

I discovered the joy of BIOFREEZE, which is this blue-green jelly substance you rub on muscles to temporarily relive aches. A friend gave me some for my hamstring before the start of the race and it worked - I never felt a thing. I also slathered some on my lower back at mile 9.5 which helped. That's what was sore. I've never given birth but I think I now have a fair idea of the lower back pain that might be involved.  I was fetal in the car on the way home, trying to relieve the strain. OUCH.

I don't know why, but I hadn't worked out that the race was 18.6 and went into it thinking it was a straight 18. So at mile 17, I'm giving myself the pep talk: One more mile. You can do it. Stay strong. Then I get to mile 18 and there's no fans, no finish line. Just straight trail ahead. What the hell??? Then my mistake dawned on me. Duh. So sucked it up and ran a half mile+ more.

My biggest mistake came after the race. They had a bevy of drinks available and I decided orange Sunkist sounded good. I don't know why. I haven't had orange Sunkist in over 20 years but a sugary flavored soda just sounded good, so I pounded it. And immediately threw it up once we returned home. My recommendation from here on out? Water.

I'm enjoying my day. I've decided that since I ran 18.6 miles, I need do nothing else or contribute to the world in any way for the remainder of the day. Blair and I were making a grocery shopping list and as I sat down he asked, "Did you bring paper?"

"No, but you have to go get it," I said. "I ran 18.6 miles today."

My husband is a very good sport.

He's also incredibly supportive. He hung out at this race for over 4 hours (we got there an hour before it started) and cheered me on at mile 6.5 and 14, which is where I passed where he was sitting. He was also cheering for me at the finish line, which is a huge lift.

I told Blair I suspect running is like childbirth. While I was doing it I was thinking, "Why?" And, "Do I really want to extend this pain and do a marathon?" But now that it's over I'm like, "Oh, that wasn't so bad. I probably could have gone longer."

Self-delusion is often a very good thing.

Staying Healthy

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I haven't done a very good job of staying healthy this week. It's a bad time to fall off the wagon as I have my first 30k race tomorrow. Send good thoughts to me at 8 am as I take the first step on an 18-mile journey! Or actually, send good vibes to me around 9:30 and 10:30 as that's probably when I'll be dying and need it the most. =)

I eat junk food when stressed and with the whole "writing drama" this week, I've been bad. Lots of ice-cream. Plus, I've had a hamstring pull I've been nursing for about a month now. I've been icing it, taking ibuprofen and it was finally just about healed. Then I did a trail run on Wednesday, tripped over a root, overextended the leg to keep from falling face first on the ground and now I'm back at square one. My trail running partners have told me sometimes it's best to just fall--less injury that way. This would have been one of those times but it's hard to avoid the natural instinct of doing everything possible to catch yourself.

I ran 3 miles on Thursday and could feel the leg pulling, especially on the itty-bitty hills we did. Phooey. It's not bad enough not to race though. Nowhere near that. Just a constant annoying twinge. Luckily, there's not many hills on tomorrow's course. One short, nasty one that we'll run twice and that's about it.

I would love to do a 9-minute pace but that's probably pushing it. The goal for me is to go out SLOW. If  I run the first two miles at a slow, steady pace I am so much stronger for the rest of my run. But it's hard to plod along at the beginning with everyone whipping past you.

I mentioned this to one of my trail running partners who's been doing marathons and ultra's for over 30 years now. He told me he'll talk to young kids in their 20's who start out fast. He'll tell them, "You can beat me in a 5 or 10k and you might even be ahead of me at mile 15. But when we hit mile 20, your ass is mine."

I love it! It's my new mantra. As I jog slow and watch people pass I'm just going to think, "At mile 16, your ass is mine."

Cheers,

Dena