Boston Marathon 2010: Locked & Loaded

I've given up any pretense of even pretending to work today. It's not going to happen. Too much angst going on to think about silly things like work. 

If I bottom out in the marathon, it's not going to be because I physically wasn't ready. It's going to be because I mentally psyched myself out. Way too much brain chatter going on about the race. I went out this morning for the last 3-mile run. One mile warm-up and 2 miles at race pace of 8:23/mile and I blathered on the entire way. I'm tired. The pace is too fast and it's only 3 miles. My God, I'm not ready. I should rethink my pace. Maybe run the 8:35 pace from Chicago so I feel better during the race. No, it's just the warm-up. I'm always tired the first few miles until I get a rhythm. No, it's a sign. I'm not ready. Stop the negative chatter! Think positive! Imagine yourself crossing the finish line at Boston. No, not limping across crying. Happy thoughts! Happy finish line!"

Before Chicago, I felt strong. Mentally and physically. I was pretty sure I was going to have the run of my life and I did. This time, the self-confidence is low. Very low. And I can't quite figure out why. But I BETTER figure out why before I get to the start or else the mental game will drag me under. 

I'm reminding myself of what I felt when I signed up for Boston. It was a freebie. For fun. I knew most everything I like to control before a race (dinner, morning routine, etc. ) would be out the door and I was looking forward to that. I'd just go with the flow and see where I ended up. No pressure. No goals. Just run. Run run, keep running, run some more and boom! Finished. 

That's what I need to hold on to. I think this mental chatter is me grappling with finding some measure of control over the race. I also think I'll be a lot happier and enjoy the experience when I just let go and say, "You know what? It is what it is. Let's do this and have fun." 

Maybe that will be my new running mantra. "Unclench, Dena. Unclench." ;)

Goodwill Grab Bag

Why do I not shop at Goodwill more often? I ran into our local Goodwill store today on the hunt for a throw away sweatshirt and pair of sweatpants for Boston. Mission accomplished. I found a pair of blue nylon Adidas pants, cotton lined, for $3.25. And a bright orange zippered-neck Syracuse sweatshirt for $3.00. 

I also found three summer sweaters, each for $3.25 apiece. And another pair of keeper sweatpants for another $3.25. They look like they just came off the rack in a "regular" store, in perfect condition. Hell-lo! If I'd had more time to nose around I probably could have done a lot more damage. 

I don't know about other Goodwills, but our local store divides clothes by color instead of size. So there's a row of yellow shirts, followed by red shirts, followed by all brown, etc. It's actually a practical way to shop. Looking for something blue? Hey, aisle three. 

I'm feelin' the Goodwill today, people. FEELIN' IT.

Cat Measuring Spoons

Is there anything more guaranteed to perk up your day than coming home to find an unexpected package waiting at your door?

Yesterday I spotted a small cardboard box enveloped in layers of duct tape sitting on my porch. I knew without even checking the return label that it was from my mother. That woman wraps a mean package. Various family members have given themselves hernias over the years, straining to tear open the roll of scotch tape Mom deemed it necessary to use on the flimsy cardboard box that contained socks. 

Anyway, turns out Mom and a friend were in a store and saw these measuring spoons, thought of me, and decided to send me an early birthday gift. I love them! Cat measuring spoons are the gift that keeps on giving. How entertaining will it be to measure out olive oil or cinammon in a kitty scoop? C'mon folks, that's pure old-fashioned fun. 

Thanks Mom!!

The Cats Are On A Diet

I took Lucy and Olivia to the vet last week. Both needed their nails trimmed and Olivia was due for some shots. I pulled Olivia out first and set her on the exam table. The vet tech was an elderly woman, new to the clinic.

"Oh my," she said, looking at the crouched ball of fur on the table and trying to conceal her shock. "Is the other one this big too?" 

Olivia weighed in at 16 lbs. Lucy is "down" to around 14, but that's only because she lost a few pounds due to her hyperthyroidism. The problem is the cats won't play. We roll jingle balls in front of them, dangle feathers in their face, and pull out the laser light. Nothing. Maybe an annoyed twitch of the tail that we've disturbed their slumber. 

Still, our vet gave me "the talk." Bottom line, our cats have to lose weight. 

So we've cut back on the food. One quarter scoop less in the morning and evening and eating times are strictly observed. No filling the food dish at 3:30 in the afternoon, just because it's empty. I have the hard part of this deal because I'm the one home when the cats are moaning in hunger and throwing themselves at my feet, begging for mercy and a tuna snack. Olivia stomped on my face the other night at 3 AM, hungry and wanting to "talk" about it.

I've been hard core though. No cheating. I wonder though, how long does it take a cat to lose weight? If it's anywhere near as long as it takes me, we're in for a long, hard summer.