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Posts from the ‘Making better choices’ Category

Jan 5

If I didn’t have bad luck …

I wouldn’t have any. Or so the saying goes.

The first hours of 2013 were great. No problems. I just hung out on my couch. I decided not to go for a run because my left IT band was still bothering me. My left big toenail (the one that is becoming increasingly black), also started hurting a little bit more.

Then, at about 4 p.m. my abdomen started hurting.

It wasn’t just as little pain, it was a horrible stabbing pain. I tried heat. I tried an ice pack. I took a bath. I took some pain relievers. I did everything. But 8 p.m. I was so sick and disoriented that I could barely stand up. Every time I moved it hurt.

I kept thinking it would get better. It didn’t.

Finally, fearing that my appendix was exploding or some other extreme malady was occurring, my husband high-tailed me to the hospital.

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I think the fact that I threw up, pretty significantly, in triage got me in quicker than I imagined I would. I was keeling over in pain. I could barely get into the hospital gown. But they loaded me up with Dilaudid, a pain reliever that’s not morphine (I’m allergic to morphine), and I suddenly felt so much better.

I had an x-ray done. They found nothing.

No explanation. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. It’s not that I wanted my appendix to be exploding. Not at all. That would have set my running back months (I had a surgery in July 2010 and couldn’t run for four weeks, longest four weeks of my life). But I wanted something to be happening so I could have a diagnosis and get work on making it better.

Instead, they told me to visit a gastrointestinal doctor.

Let’s me real: I’ve seen a lot of doctors lately. The thought of another one just bums me out.

So I started this year bummed out, doped up on pain relievers in an emergency room bed. After two months on leave, I didn’t have the heart to call in sick to work the next day. I was tired, and the pain still resonated, but I made it through.

On Thursday, I headed out to my car to go to work and noticed a strange scratch on the door.

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It didn’t look right. I opened the door and found something much, much worse inside.

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You’ve got to be kidding me?

No. Way.

Someone tried to break into my car. The only place I’d been? Work.

My car is in the garage when I’m at home. I sent my husband an email when I got to work.

“I think someone tried to break into the Jeep,” it said. He had me send photos. When he received them, he was livid.

I mentioned it to the security guard at work. He told me that someone else’s car was broken into earlier in the week, but no one was in the lot last night, etc.

My husband was firm: The only place it could have happened was in the lot at work.

The damage is fairly significant, especially on a new car.

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I filed a police report. We’re turning it into insurance. My typically mild-mannered husband was cursing and upset when I got home and showed him. I told him I impressed by the Jeep’s durability. The bad guys didn’t get in. Nothing was stolen. And it’s not like they can steal the car anyway, since a proximity chip is needed to start it.

Then on Friday, after all of this happens during the week, the cracks in the facade start to show a little in my anxiety. It turned into a bad day.

One bad day after another.

But … my IT band isn’t in as much pain as it was a couple days ago. I’ve been stretching it every night and rolling it out with my Grid roller. I’ve also been using my TriggerPoint ball to massage the ends of my IT band.

I ran six miles yesterday. I ran five miles today.

I’m hoping to run eight to 10 tomorrow morning.

The running is going well. I’m hopeful that I’ll be ready to tackle that trail 1oK on Jan. 26. (And start upping the ante for the half marathon in February.) So I guess there is good luck too in all this.

Since I keep having issues with that particular IT band, I’m considering investing in one of those physical therapy-style rubber straps to use to get some more mobility in that leg. I’m already rolling it out everyday. I’m stretching it out as much as possible. But the problem keeps coming back.

I suppose it’s better than having constant knee issues, but still. We’ll see if I can figure out a plan of attack on the IT band from hell.

Oct 7

4 Comments

Some bad news, some good news

Today didn’t go as well as planned at the Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon. I finished nine minutes over my PR from last year at 2:36:13.

My problems started at mile three. By mile eight, I was keeled over on the side of the street throwing up. (Sorry for the blunt honesty right there, but there’s no real easy way to say it. Maybe, expelling all my Gu on the streets of San Jose?)

At mile ten, I had another episode. I honestly had a moment where I didn’t think I’d be finishing the race. Then I pulled it together and pushed my hardest.

Today was bad, because I didn’t reach either of my goals for the race.

It was good for a completely different reason.

I don’t write about my job(s) a lot, mainly because I’d rather not get into too much about work on my running blog. But today, I want to share a link to a story I wrote.

It started as a blog post in response to Wisconsin anchorwoman Jennifer Livingston’s on-air response to a letter from a concerned reader about her weight. I had something very, very similar happen to me in 2009.

Full time, I edit a newspaper website. But I’m also a writer. I was a writer before I learned how to code HTML, interpret CSS or shoot and edit video. Today, I revealed a very personal part of myself in an article in the newspaper.

It’s here (with a wedding photo of me even! Another thing I don’t often share because my husband and I have different last names professionally and I typically like to keep that aspect of my life private too).

It’s kind of nice that the story ran today, if only because today was one of those bad runs I address in the story. From each run, we learn something not to do for the next. (For this one, I think having an upset stomach for four days is probably not the best thing to run a half marathon while dealing with.)

Either way, I wanted to share it with my readers. It’s more revealing than I am on here sometimes, though I aim to be candid on my blog as well.

I’ll post a full race recap later this week. Just to warn: it won’t be pretty.

 

Sep 14

The rub down

Total creeper photo, right?

I think I should put a caption on it that says “the scene of the crime” or something like that.

In truth, only good came from my visit to my massage therapist today. Usually only good comes from a visit, but today was notable.

I bought a membership about five months ago into our local corporate massage place. I figured if worse came to worse, I’d get a new therapist every time. So if I didn’t like one, there was always next time, right?

For the first few times, that theory actually worked in my favor. One therapist was too quiet. (I’m sorry, I like to gab when I’m relaxing.) One was too hard. I seriously had bruises on me from that visit. The other just wasn’t right. I was starting to feel like Goldilocks and the Three Massage Therapists.

Then I got Alyssa. Not only is she totally punk rock and easy to relate too, she’s also damn good at what she does. No kidding. I’ve never had a massage therapist so keen on making my legs feel like they can run forever. She’s a miracle worker, no kidding.

Today I came in with that nagging glute pain. She asked if it was bothering my back. Nope. So she went to work on me with me turned face up first. She really gets down into my stress areas, specifically my left shoulder. That’s where EVERY SINGLE BIT OF STRESS EVER hides. I swear. It’s likely because I have some nerve damage back there.

Then she started working and stretching my legs. I immediately felt a tinge of pain in the area I felt it in while running earlier this week. I felt like moaning out loud…then it stopped.

Alyssa kept working it, moving my leg to treat all my muscles. I’ve also been having some hip pain, usually from overworking out, and that, too, just disappeared. When I got to my car, I wasn’t even slightly upset about the $60+ it was going to take to fill my tank to get to work tonight.

Now I feel light. I feel like I want to jump on the treadmill and just go for a run.

I’m waiting until Saturday though. I have a 5.5-mile race on Sunday, so I’m doing my long run on Saturday. Since 5.5 miles is typically around what I run on weeknights, I figure I don’t need the rest. (Maybe that will come back and haunt me later? We’ll see.)

All I know is that I feel so much better since my rub down. And sorry for the creepy stalker photo…the rooms are dark and I don’t like posting without photos…so there you go.

Aug 4

An unexpected PR

I didn’t think it was possible to have a greater runner’s high than the one I did after the San Francisco 1st Half Marathon a week ago. I felt amazing when I finished. I was floating. I continued floating for the coming days, even on my other runs this week.

So when I woke up this morning, I was a little tired and not really expecting much out of my half marathon this morning. I slept a little on the way over and was still exhausted when I got to the starting line.

But the day’s conditions were perfect.

Marina Park in San Leandro was beautiful, as always.

It was cool and a little windy. I decided to keep my long-sleeved shirt on because when I took it off I felt a little too cold to stand around the 30-minutes before the beginning of the race. I used the portable toilets twice (love smaller races). I ate a couple Simply Fruit twists. I said goodbye to Thomas, who was planning on heading to work.

Then I made my way to the start line.

I love Brazen Racing for many reasons. One is that they are very organized. I never have to pick up my bib or shirt beforehand because they are totally fine with having race-day packet pickup. In fact, many people do that because Brazen makes it so easy.

The lines were actually a little longer at this point. I got there at about 7 a.m. and the race began at 8 a.m., so I grabbed my stuff and headed back to the car.

It was a little bare when I got there, but you can see the overcast sky.

In any case, I was starting to get warmed up when the race director began advising everyone on the proper use of D-Tag timing chips. The race directors are incredibly awesome people. The husband, Sam, even came out and showed some people what they were doing wrong with their chips.

The countdown began and after 4…3…2…1 we were off.

Mile 1: 9:48 — Whoa! Where did that come from? I couldn’t believe I was moving along that fast. Not at all. I didn’t even feel like I was going that fast, but I figured I’d better slow down.

Mile 2: 10:24 — This feels much better. This pace wasn’t bad. I thought I’d surely get tired quickly. I figured I wouldn’t be able to sustain this, but I kept moving along because it felt fine. I didn’t even look like I was trying all that hard yet.

You can see me back there in between those three guys. Moving along, feet off the ground.

Another in the same area.

And another.

Mile 3: 10:39 — Still feeling good. Slowing down a little, but not struggling at all. We hit the second aid station a little after mile three began. I did a Vanilla Bean Gu.

Mile 4: 10:15 — The Gu propelled me! I picked up the speed.

Mile 5: 10:43 — Still trying to find my happy pace. But moving along strong. I usually average 11:30 or so on these runs, so this was an amazing pace for me this far in.

Mile 6: 10:31 — I was nearly under the hour with this one and started a huge chunk of mile five within that first hour. The turnaround was coming soon, and I started to realize I might get a PR if everything went right.

Mile 7: 11:03 — Slowed down at the turnaround to grab a cub of Ultima Replenisher and take off my long sleeved. But I turned it around fast. Did another Gu.

Mile 8: 10:59 — Moving along. Kind of getting tired of trail ground moving below me, but I find solid spots to run on.

Mile 9: 11:51 — This would be my “wall.” I started to get a little tired here. Decided on a 30 second to a minute-long walk break. I thought this would be the point where I gave up. I figured I’d still finish strong, but not as strong as I could. I drank a little of my Gatorade and got a burst of energy to push through the doubt.

Mile 10: 11:03 — I picked it back up. I felt amazing in this mile. I look at my Garmin and was coming in well under the two-hour mark. Wow. This is turning out to be a great race! Did another Gu.

Mile 11: 12:09 — Two not so great things happened here. My toe started killing me because the tape slipped off. And I had to stop and refill my water bottle. I filled up the bottle, slowly, at the aid station and then went on and into mile 11.

Mile 12: 11:13 — I started to get really excited about halfway through this mile. I knew I’d be coming in much sooner than my previous PR, as long as nothing happened within the next mile. I suddenly had a kick in my step. I realized I was running my best race to date.

Mile 13: 10:42 — I really picked it up here, I even passed four or five people. I NEVER have that much energy at the end of the race. But I did. I had a smile on my face from ear to ear I’m sure. I was elated.

Mile .15: 1:25 — I ran it in. I probably ran harder than I’ve ever run before. I was so happy. I stopped my Garmin and breathed deep, smiling.

Official time: 2:22:45

That’s so not what I expected to happen today. Not at all. I figured I’d go out flat, with this being my second half marathon in six days. My aim is to always run an 11:30 average. Today I ran a 10:54 average.

As always, Brazen gives out the most amazing medals. The shirt, pictured first, are pretty awesome too. They are just a well put together company that makes the experience less about competition, though there is some of that, and more about having a good time. They really let runners compete against themselves.

So what made this experience so good?

I started out strong. I knew my footing was secure. I kept moving, even when I started to think about potentially stopping. I figured it must be a good time when I started out with clean shoes and they ended up covered in dust.

A before and after comparison:

That’s dirt all around the “collar” of the shoes. I’m thinking it may be time to wash them.

I also had fun. I think that may be making the greatest difference in my running as of late. I’m having a good time. I’m chatting with people. I’m enjoying the experiences so much more. It’s making me a better runner.

So I have a new PR. I hope that doesn’t mean I have to go nearly a year before I get another. Now I know I can run that fast and that far. Now I know I have it in me.

Also: Today I put my new running bottle to the test.

It’s a little larger than the Amphipod bottles I usually run with, and it’s a Clean Bottle. I picked three up for me and one for myself at the expo for the San Francisco run. I’m really loving it. It’s easy to hold and I can easily clean it because the bottom and top come off.

I’m hoping to write a long review-type post about the bottles in the near future.

May 1

A tough training 21: Part I

Let it be known that I’m crazy sometimes. I often expect a surprising positive results when I know the situation will not dictate it. This is usually the case at work. They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Therefore, sometimes, I’m insane.

Signing up for a 21-mile run along the California coast where two miles of it, near the beginning nonetheless, are straight uphill when my training consists of running small rolling hills is definitely a sign that something is very wrong with me.

“It could be fun,” I thought when signing up for the run last December. It was my “I just ran a marathon” gift to myself. Yeah, I used to buy shoes, now I sign up for other runs. I’m crafty like that.

So as the weeks rolled down and I was unable to get in my 15-mile training run preceding the event this weekend, I only started to worry slightly. It was a training run, after all. I was using it as a training run.

Except my husband came along. And we stayed overnight. Thank God too, since my wake-up was at 3 a.m. And we ate a nice dinner. It was very much like my marathon more than six months ago (wow, it’s been that long!).

So we packed up some overnight goods and headed to the Monterey Peninsula for the Big Sur 21-miler.

It was, for the most part, a nice drive. We headed through the Bay Area, on Highway 101. It was about a two hour plus drive. No stops. That’s surprising for me, since I usually have to go to the bathroom on long drives.

We headed up Highway 17 near Santa Cruz, then to Highway 1. The same Highway 1 that leads from Carmel to Big Sur, but we didn’t get that far. We stopped in Monterey where the sun was shining and it was warm.

Oh hey ocean! I’ve missed the open water so much since I left Oakland in 2007. I used to be able to see the San Francisco Bay everyday from the campus at University of California, Berkeley where I earned my masters degree in journalism.

We hit up the expo first thing once getting into town.

My husband is not like me at all when it comes to making things simple. He had to find a place to park that was free. When I was with my mom for the Big Sur Half Marathon last fall, I parked in the first garage I found. Bam. It was $6. Simple and easy. No worry about getting a ticket.

Thomas dropped me off. He went and found a free spot blocks and blocks away.

I’ve blogged about my tired little legs as of late. I didn’t want to walk those blocks. Especially if I knew I’d be running 21 miles the next day. But that’s how he is. (Also note that he is likely one of the most patient men in the world, I do appreciate that too.)

The expo was much more packed than the half was last November.

This was my one clear photo from the shirt pickup.

I went upstairs and found the single line for the 21-miler. It appears only 675 people finished it, so I understand the need for only one line. I just happened to be behind three air-head type women. I’m sorry, I usually don’t call out other people, but these chicks not only didn’t bring their bib numbers to the counter. Then they let another woman get in line with them. Then they asked why they couldn’t pick up their bus tickets right there (it was a three foot walk, seriously). Then they had to stop and take a photo right in front of me. COME ON. Get your stuff and be done.

So I got my bib after all that.

And, more importantly, my bus ticket.

I’ve never felt so much like Charlie from “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.”

I was lucky enough to score a late boarding ticket. “Brown ticket” for “Monterey Marriott Loading.” That meant I was on one of nearly the last buses heading up the coast. Score. I could sleep in.

Little did I know I wouldn’t get to. (THANKS INSOMNIA!)

I went downstairs for my awesome Big Sur 21-miler shirt. It’s light blue, with purple writing. I love it as much as I love my Half Marathon shirt from last November.

Confession: I used to think the Big Sur shirts were so cheesy. I don’t anymore. Big Sur International Marathon has a classic sense to its designs. Nothing frilly. Nothing too fancy. Basic, yet beautiful. Always with some part of the Bixby Bridge on the marathon-style gear.

Thomas caught up to me down at the expo. I was checking out booths. I was hoping to score some new compression sleeves. No go. I didn’t even find anything else other than my race shirt saying “21-miler.” This was like the Nike Women’s Half where everything says Nike Women’s Marathon. Yeah, it’s the event name. I get it.

We did a little expo wine tasting. I even bought a bottle of $20 chardonnay with the marathon logo on it. It was a commemoration bottle. Nice.

But I found chocolate.

A very fancy, expensive chocolate store.

And I partook. Yes, yes I did.

They were expensive. I needed a disclaimer. I still have some left. I’m good at restraint. Not really, though. I ate too much today. Way too much. I promise to be better tomorrow and go back to the diet.

Then we headed to the motel. It was nice. Not too fancy. Not the Hyatt my mom and I stayed at either. Thomas, again, doesn’t like spending a lot on things. He booked one of the cheapest, albeit nicest hotels he could find. It was OK. I always bring a comfort blanket, a tip I got before the marathon, to help me sleep.

On suggestion from one of the Big Sur volunteers, we took some free appetizer coupons and headed to Fisherman’s Wharf where a bunch of marathoners, 21-milers and other event savvy types were headed.

We selected Isabella’s. Our free appetizer was fried artichokes. So good. We opted to eat outside. It wasn’t cold at all. And they were going to seat us in a corner in the actual restaurant. I didn’t really want to sit in a corner when the advertisement said: “All seats are ocean view.” Yeah, not so much.

We were greeted by a seagull who wanted to get all up in our business. He was kind of funny, so he didn’t bother us too much. Thomas even wanted to pose with the seagull. I called him “Buff.” He seemed like a combination between our dog Beau and our duck Duff, so Buff seemed appropriate.

I ordered a margarita. Between tired legs and nerves, I thought it was necessary. And I didn’t drink so much it would be detrimental to the run.

And I ordered beef. A steak. I usually order chicken. Or something lean.

But something caught my eye on the menu.

Rib Eye with a baked potato. And butternut squash risotto. Yes please.

It was delicious.

Then we walked the beach for a little bit and headed back to the hotel.

It was such a beautiful day. The wharf was close to our motel. The dinner was good. Overall, a nice night. We went back to the motel and ate the chocolate and I drank a lot of water. No Diet Coke even. Too bad that didn’t help me fall asleep.

Then I did what I typically do the night before a run.

I put everything out to make getting ready in the morning, at this point 3 a.m., easy for the next morning.

I put my head down at 9 p.m. I thought I’d fall asleep fast based on the fact that I was tired from the drive and seemed to be drowsy. I took a couple Ibuprofens because of a slight headache and laid down. Thomas watched television for a while then went and hung out in the bathroom to let me sleep. He watched Netflix in the bathroom. See, a patient man.

At 10 p.m. I looked at the clock. I still wasn’t sleeping. I tossed and turned. I took another Ibuprofen. I couldn’t sleep. Thomas crawled in bed sometime after 11 p.m. and I kept falling asleep a little, then waking up.

I must have collectively slept for two hours when I looked at my phone and noticed it said 2:52 a.m.

I’m up, I thought. Let’s do this.

And with two hours of sleep and the headache that didn’t seem to be disappearing, I started getting ready for my longest and most difficult training run ever.

 

Apr 14

Making better choices

I’m pretty sure Lululemon did a ton of research when considering the “manifesto” to put on the bags you get at the store and withe everyone online order. I’m currently alternating between a black bag and a red bag for my carrying my lunch to work. I have a lunch bag that keeps things cool, but I now have a refrigerator/microwave in my office at school.

Plus, the Lululemon bags are much cuter than that one.

And it screams “I work out! Yes I do!” to everyone who cares. Which is likely no one at either job.

But I digress.

I saw the featured part of my bag the other day, about stress being related to illness. My first thought: “Oh yeah.”

I mentioned in my somewhat more open previous post that I had a stomach issue that forced me to have an unplanned surgery in July 2010. I’ll explain more.

I had pain. Horrible pain. For about two years, I just kept letting it go. It would come at night mostly. It would hit me hard. I thought it was kidney stones.

Kidney stones run in my family. So it made sense. I had tests run. Lots of test. Lots of uncomfortable peeing in a cup. Yep, I said it.

I had a bunch of blood tests too. Not as many as when I diagnosed with high blood sugar a few years before. But many. No root cause. Nothing that would indicate a condition underlying.

“Perhaps you should consider that the pain is a physical manifestation of your stress,” the doctor said.

“Seriously?” I said, half astonished, half sarcastic.

It was and wasn’t in the end. Surgery proved that.

Still, it made me think.

Stress. Ah, stress.

I’ve spent most of my recent life in some sort of stage of stress. I pushed myself to graduate from college in three years. I’m still not sure how I did it.

In graduate school, I developed an ulcer from the stress of working on my masters project and running, quickly, out of money (thanks Grandma for saving me! If it wasn’t for her unexpected checks here and there, wrapped in tinfoil for a reason only own to her, I wouldn’t have made it to my summer internship in Dallas).

Then I took a job with no time off between it and my internship. And I immediately plunged into wedding planning. For eight months I came home and planned during my off hours from work. Moved into a rental house 25+ miles from my job two days before the wedding. Then had to adjust to the commute.

Then we bought a house.

Stress. Yes. I know stress well.

But last night and today, I officially decided my new mantra is “make better choices.”

In life. In fitness. In my goals.

How did I start? With a strawberry Chobani yogurt for breakfast. A Weight Watchers lunch. And pretzel chip snacks.

I’m getting a little hungry, but I’m making it through.

Today, I start making better choices in general.

That means not going for a run to make a quota, but because my body wants to. Today I slept in and got up and ran eight miles on the treadmill. Every step I wanted to stop (because my legs are more tired than usual), but I didn’t. I kept going.

I started this blog to share my views on running. I’ve been reluctant to really get into anything about my diet or my weight just because I didn’t feel as if it would “fit” here.

Well, it’s my blog and I can complain if I want to. I’m not changing the theme, I’m adding more variety.

It makes sense to me. So I’ve added a category, the first in a long while: “Making better choices.”

So here I start. Today and tomorrow and on and on are about making better choices. I’m hoping to continue my path by going to the store with my husband this evening. We haven’t been for awhile together. Either or the other goes. But when we used to go together, we’d eat better.

I want to start that again.

And it’s a step, right?

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