Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Darkness descends

I ran after dinner which led to some stomach pain during the run. However, it was without the boys/stroller, so I was able to really push myself. I walked only once during this run (the entire first half is uphill). It was dark, and I still can't find my headlamp. This is a royal pain in the ass because when cars approach, I can't see the road for their headlights. After they pass, I can't see the road because I'm temporarily blinded by their headlights. When there are no cars, I can't see the road because there are no streetlights. Night running will now be relegated to the cemetary or the high school track. BORING! Additionally, at the top of my run (in the middle of a field on a gravel road with NO street lights for at least 1/4 mile), there were two cars parked together, dome lights on and some scurrying as I approached. Surely, the occupants were up to no good. I didn't linger.

At the very end of my run, I did five hill repeats. (This only the second time I've ever done hill repeats.) They weren't awful. Not easy, but not horrible. Maybe I need a steeper hill? Maybe I'm just strong and sexy under this mass of blubber.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Running strong, even if it's not frequent

The boys, Lizzy and I all ran in Stockton yesterday. I drove out by Rush Lake (dry right now), and we ran back into town, turned around and ran back to the car. The good thing about this is that there is no way to cut the run short. You have to get back to the car eventually. The bad parts about the run were that the boys were cranky and the road wasn't built for runners - or any being trying to utilize it outside of a car. The great part was that I ran 4.6 miles at a 11:23 mpm pace - WITH the boys in the stroller on a couple of hills! Now, I just need to get off of my butt and out the door more frequently!

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Nighttime training

I can't find my friggin' headlamp. With our roads being what they are, it's NOT a good idea to run when you can't see well. I can't run on the treadmill because there is a hole in the belt, and I don't have $120 to replace it. It's too cold for me to take the boys out for an hour. I'm NOT going to ask someone to babysit them while I run, because that's MY time! (I don't get enough time with them as it is!)

Where's my stupid headlamp?!?!?

Monday, October 20, 2008

Improved pace

I ran from work, to and around Liberty, and back to work today in 48:50. This was a pace of 10:52 mpm, and for me - a very good pace. I tried to push it as I was coming up on my walk breaks, so the minute-ish prior to a walk was harder than the preceding eight minutes. I don't know if it helped me much as far as time goes, but it gave me something to work hard for.

Side note: lots of Obama signs, not a single McCain sign.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

It's all about consistency

Six miles on Saturday morning. The entire run was done in intervals of 10/1 - even the hill leading to the cemetary. Pace was 11:30 mpm. I obviously do better when I'm not pushing the boys in the stroller, but I missed them. Liz and I saw five deer in the cemetary at the end of the run. I wished the boys could have seen them.

Then, we met Nana this morning for a 2.5 mile walk with the dogs. The boys had a good time.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Like lettuce for jam...

Received a call from KM today trying to pass some lettuce off on us because they won't eat it in time. Really, his garden kicked my garden's ass, and I think that he likes to rub it in. So, the boys and I took them some jam to swap for the lettuce.

I e-mailed some interesting facts regarding the LDS church and it's opposition to Prop 8 in CA. I really riled a couple of people up, so I spent half of my run on the phone discussing/defending my e-mail. Didn't do much for my pace: 14:something/mile. Oh well. The boys had fun.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Always feeling Not-Quite-Good-Enough

For some reason (OK - emotional meltdown on Biggest Loser, if you really want to know), I've had a bit of an epiphany.

I've always felt not-quite-good-enough. I've never known why - or really - I've never taken the time to really think about it, and tonight, it just came to me.

As if living up to The Golden Child wasn't always hard enough, I realized tonight that as a child/teen, I was often trying to prove that I was better than the kids of the women that my dad was living/sleeping with - even after I was an adult. I think I was also trying to be better than the women that he left us for - probably in an attempt to convince him to return.

I remember going to junior high and having classes with one of the girls. I can't even remember her name right now (but her mom's name was slutty-whore - or JoAnne - whatever). She (the daughter, not the whore) was a nice girl. We were actually friends before the entire disaster, but I know that I consciously tried to do better than her in classes and in horse shows and not because I'm just naturally competitive, but because I waned him to see me first, better, only.

Even after I moved away to college and mom finally divorced him because of the even-sluttier-whore, Terri, I wanted to be cuter, nicer, smarter than her daughter, Christy because I needed to know that I was more important to him.

I never felt that. I still struggle to feel that. In fact, I think that other than the obvious "you'll someday regret shutting your parent out" thing, I kept in contact with him when no other child would because I needed to be the one that he loved the most - just for once. However, to be certain that I failed in my selfish attempt to be the most loved, I made certain that The Baby stepped back up and made contact and a relationship with him again. (And, yes, it's more important for us to be be a relatively intact family - this I know.)

I think that part of the reason that I want to run marathons (and possibly more) is that I need to do more than the other kids and in a grander fashion. I needed to be sure that I was the first (only) one to finish college. And, although none of ever talk about it, I want to be the one who makes the most money. (And, yes, I know that money is not a measure of a person's wealth, blah, blah, blah. I didn't say that my epiphany was realistic!)

I'm sure that there is more to it than just that, but "that" is actually pretty big for me to finally recognize. Now, the question is, how do I translate that into a life change? How do I know my own worth? How do I stop comparing myself to everyone? How do I - as I'm sure I need to - tell him?

(By the way, I'm sure that there are issues with my mom, but she and her memory are pretty safe since I have always had her on a pedestal. If there are issues, it will be a long time before I understand them.)

Friday, October 10, 2008

I needed this delivery day

Today was my Meals on Wheels day. I really needed it.

I'm in a funk, and I'm feeling sorry for myself. I'm feeling fat and ugly and mean and miserable. I've been grouchy and bitchy and whiney. I'm convinced that Bub doesn't love me because of how I look (but really, it would be because of how I've been acting). I'm bummed that I have to work so much from home, that I can't get any good exercise in until 9:45pm which is just too late, that we're friggin' broke all of the time (and we're talkin' REALLY broke), that we can't seem to catch a break, waaaaa, waaaaa, waaaaa.

So, today's deliveries served two purposes: to bring food to home-bound people and to give me an opportunity to say "Snap out of it, you boob!"

Delivery #1: wheelchair bound and on oxygen
Delivery #2: wheelchair bound, obese, and diabetic
Delivery #3: mobile, but hunched over, clearly with some form of degenerative bone or arthritis problem
Delivery #4: on oxygen
Delivery #5: diabetic
Delivery #6: frail, almost bed ridden, incontinence issues and a constant vacant stare

Some people would say "But for the grace of God go I," but not me. I don't think that God or Goddess or anybody else is going to save me from that. I am the only one who is going to prolong my mobility, keep my blood sugar/weight/cholesterol/blood pressure in check, keep my brain active, stay healthy enough to enjoy my "golden" years.

The trouble is that I've spent 38 years not caring enough about myself to make much of a difference. I've got to find a place in my brain/heart/gut to give a shit about myself and move past the fear of being noticed, of being important, of being a force to be reckoned with in this world.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Reflecting upon my bad behavior

Dropped the car off to have a flat repaired. The boys and I took off for a 4-ish miler. Almost half way into it, I came upon a group of seven or eight middle school boys surrounding another boy who is doubled over on the ground. So, of course, I stop and ask the boy-on-the-ground if he is OK.

One of the boys standing around - heretofore to be called the Punk - responds that boy-on-the-ground is just fine. I let the Punk know that I prefer that boy-on-the-gound respond for himself to which the Punk lets me know that they have been friends since 2nd grade and that it's none of my business. Boy-on-the-ground finally responds that he is OK, but still hasn't stood up or shown his face. I ask a couple more times and he assures me that he's fine and is finally sitting up.

So, the boys and I start walking away and the Punk says to boy-on-the-ground "I didn't really kick you that hard." So, I turn around and let the Punk know that I heard him and that I'm still concerned that he's kicking other people. He tells me that they were just wrestling around and it was a mistake and as he walks away he says "Damn, nosey people getting into other people's shit!" OK - now, I'm not happy. So, I tell him that he's being a dink (yes - I used that word) and I just wanted to make sure that his "friend" was OK. The boys and I finally go on our way and then the Punk yells "Have a nice day, bitch."

So, I gave him the finger.

Like I said, I reflected on my bad behavior. The boys and I ran to our turn around point, and I was mad at myself the entire time. Come on. I am (or am supposed to be) the grown-up. What the hell was I doing? Even in my self directed anger, I did enjoy the little bit of fear in the boys when the realized that I was running towards them again. Constant looking back and walking faster. A little part of me did do the "he-he-he" giggle.

So, I finally catch up with the Punk, and I asked him if I could talk to him. Suddenly, he's quite the little gentleman! I started by apologizing to him, and I let him know that my actions weren't very grown-up. He started apologizing right and left. So, I just said, "Look. You've got to understand where I'm coming from. I don't know you or your friend. Therefore, I didn't know if he was one of those kids who is always picked on or if you're a jerk or if you were really just wrestling. Frankly, your behavior so far didn't do much for your first impression. I want to apologize again for giving you the bird, but if you're going to treat me with that level of disrespect, you've got to expect the same in return."

It was quite a speech, and he was really quite apologetic, too. Even though it turned into something bigger than it should have been, I'm glad that I stopped in the first place. However, I am still pissed at myself for being such an idiot.

Just goes to prove that if you're not bothering to use your brain, you can act just like a pre-teen Punk.

Monday, October 6, 2008

While NOT on a run....

A friend of mine completed the St. George marathon this weekend. He's probably five or six years younger than me and overall he is definitely fitter than I am. He didn't have a good base going into the race so he just wanted to finish it before the six-hour time limit. (He was also trying to redeem himself after last year where he was injured about half through but finished anyway and barely before the time limit.)

So, we were discussing the weather (sucked - rained the ENTIRE race), his pace (good), hitting the mental wall (around mile 24), and his general sentiment through the entire race. He was very excited that even with his low base mileage, he finished three minutes off of his PR. Yeah for him!

What!?!? Wait - back up. He finished three minutes off of his PR? That can't be right because his finish time was 4:47:47. His PR is 4:44?!?!?

HEY! MY PR IS 4:59:25! How can it be that my PR could be only 15 minutes off of his?

Could it be that he's just not a good athlete? Well, that could be, but he actually is a good athlete. He's fit; he's conscious of what he eats; when not running, he exercises a lot. OR, could it be that I'm not as bad of an athlete as I think I am? Nah - that can't be it.... Can it?

What if, under my beer gut (calling a spade a spade, people) lies the body of a nimble and lithe gazelle-like running goddess? What if I've just been too lazy to really push myself to find my potential? I mean, I've been running for 6.5 years, and I look much the same as when I started. I obviously haven't had a lot of motivation to get or stay in shape.

I often justify my bad behaviors by saying "What's the point? I'll always be like this." But, what if I'm wrong? What if (cue the Hallelujah chorus) I really am an athlete?

At the end of our conversation, he indicated that given all of the things going against him this weekend, by finishing with an almost-PR, he now knows that he can do more. He can push himself harder and further. Yeah - you and me, both, buddy! (SHOUTING: On the left - goddess about to pass!)

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Monday's "speed work" made for some tired legs that stayed throughout the entire run. The run up to the gate sucked. I did 6/1, 6/1, 4/1, 2/1, then whatever combination would get me to the top. I was able to run all the way home, though, which contributed to a really good time considering I also had the boys in the stroller. Average speed was 11:58 mpm.

In creating this blog and it's name, I really planned to write about the soul searching and the epiphanies that are supposed to accompany running. However, so far my thoughts revolve around tickling feet, asking the boys where certain body parts are, picking baby bottles up off of the road, and willing myself to run to the next fence post, light pole, or crack in the road without dying. My runs seem to be a matter of survival instead of introspection. Perhaps the brilliance will come as my fitness level improves?