Amber's Apology

Back in the day when the Via Running Club was running mob deep, Amber and I sat across from each other at work. She witnessed my hair falling out as I attempted to train for the Portland Marathon and plan my wedding. It was a great time, actually. Too bad I didn't realize it at that point.

Anyway, one day Amber mentioned that she had made her own soda the night before. I jumped on that like a wolf on a dead carcass. "Are you a hippy?!! You're such a hippy!?" I exclaimed with joy. And truth be told, she is a hippy. But a nice smart hippy who runs and writes really well. She, of course, thought I was nuts because really, to make your own soda, you add flavoring to sparkling water.

They way I reacted you'd thought she was using disposable menstrual rags. NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT, of course. But you catch my drift.

So, here it is. I am sorry I called you a dirty hippy for making your own soda. Because, behold....



Those are alfalfa sprouts that I GREW my own damn self on my kitchen counter. And a cup of them found their way into my green smoothie (along with a pear, an apple, bee pollen, agave nectar, flax seeds and a ton of spinach). Contrary to popular belief (and when I say popular belief, I mean my own belief), sprouts are nutritious! Who knew?

And then, I made tabouli, taboulli, taboulleh, or however you spell it.


Things are weird around here, folks. Very strange.

Today's morning weigh in went great for us. Amy didn't enter the house because Oliver had the stomach flu yesterday. Michael lost 1.2 and I lost 2.1!!! I'm now 145.1. Only 35 pounds to go.

I ran three times this week and felt great. That's it from hippy central.

Take a Listen to Your Spirit, It's Crying Out Loud

The original title of this post was going to be "I Nutted Up!"

(For those of you new to the phrase "nut up," it means to "suck it up." I learned last year that men use this phrase a lot during sporting events. You can also replace "nut" with "sack." And there's your lesson for today.)

But, because I'm turning into a dirty hippy (I'm growing my own sprouts, people), I decided to go with a line from Fleetwood Mac--very quickly becoming my favorite music to run to. I really feel like this process of losing weight and getting back to running feels soulful or spiritual. God, I'm grossing myself out with this new age shit. Lord.

Anyhoo! Today's run was awesome. Mostly because I didn't want to go. I fought with myself for about 20 minutes about going. First, it's very windy and cold. Wind chill is probably making it about 37 degrees or so. Then, the inevitable dilemma about where to run. Then, I let something else make the decision for me. I got on the scale. That's always a great motivator.

So, the weigh in on Saturday was a pretty big disappointment. I only lost .6 according to Amy's scale. But my scale showed a lower weight. Michael and I were both pissed because we've been killing it during the week. Going under calories and exercising. Well, when Amy left (she lost 2.2 BTW. Bitch!) we put two 5lb bags of sugar on my scale. And it registered 10 pounds. So on my little weight keeping tool, I went with my lower weight. I'll keep Amy's weight for the competition. But to date I've lost 10.2 pounds.

So today I logged four miles. Felt pretty good. I stopped and walked a few times, but always started running within 45 seconds to a minute. The other great thing about today was the flying snot rocket.

Since I wipe Oliver's snotty nose with my hand, arm, wrist, shirt, hem or anything that's available, (I mean why don't I just lick it off like a mother tiger? It has the same effect--me getting sick) I too have a snotty nose. So when you're running into the wind, you can really let those suckers fly. A LOT. Pretty sweet.

And that's it from here. Right now, 3.5 hours from the run, I'm feeling tired. But happy it's over.

p.s. Cat Stevens' song that didn't jive with my mood--Father and Son. First lyrics I hear as I'm sucking wind: "It's not time for a change. Just relax, take it easy." Thanks Cat. You suck.

In Stereo

Today I struggled with where to run. Should I drive up to the zoo and run on the trail? Do I stay in the neighborhood and risk people seeing my FAF (Fat Ass Frame) as they're driving on Scholls Ferry Road? I decided driving up to the zoo was a waste of time, so I ran my neighborhood loop instead of my usual route that takes me across Scholls Ferry--the life line of SW Portland.

I also decided to run with music. This is a BIG deal. Because I NEVER run with music. My first and only running Coach taught me that running with headphones on could be dangerous--you can't hear cars coming up behind you, German Shepherds trying to kill you, etc. I agreed because I wanted to be a purist. I didn't want a crutch to help me run better.

That went out the window today, and I loved it! Holy cow. I didn't have to hear my labored breath as my FAF went up a hill, I could burp to my heart's content (even though I do enjoy hearing how loud I can get sometimes).

What's funny about the music today was that I used my iPod Mini circa 2002/2003. I used this little guy while I was training for the Portland Marathon that I dropped out off. (Loser! Loser!) It had some good songs on it! Granted I had to fast forward through Morning has Broken by Cat Stevens, some lullaby by Enya and Drums (gag) by the Dead.

But I also got to hear Second Hand News by Fleetwood Mac, Reckless Life by Guns 'N Roses (totally!), Everyday People by Sly and the Family Stone, and Last Dance by Donna Summer. Good times.

Your tangent for today: yesterday I went to Costco. I bought a digital scale. I've been on it 1,432 times already. I don't believe the number. Also, I put a hot/cold laminator in my cart because I REALLY WANT ONE. I want to laminate things. I want to laminate the boys' art work, I want to laminate recipes, I'm dying for this thing. But, I knew Michael would make fun of me and I'd probably use it once. So I put it back. So sad.

That's it for today. Run on peeps!

Official Weigh In Results

The official results are in. After dreaming all night that I was weighing in with the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills on a faulty scale, I'm happy to report that all three participants of the Great Weight Challenge of 2011 lost weight!

The results:

Michael: Down 5.4 pounds for an overall loss of 12.8 pounds!

Amy: Down 0.8 pounds for an overall loss of 2.2 pounds!

Sarah: Down 2.8 pounds for an overall loss of 8.4 pounds!

Sweeeeeeeeeeeet.

Now, it's just time to run.

Dr. Feelgood

I wish this post was about drugs, but alas.

The sprain was a bit worse than I thought. The day after the sprain I noticed a lot of tenderness, so I went to my doctor for a quickie wrap. He advised using an aircast and doing the prerequisite RICE-ing, which I'm fine with, except for the "R" part. Especially since I had just had an awesome run and was feeling back to my runnery self (gross).

Here's a bad iPhone pic, but you can see the lovely bruising setting in:

(tangent: what's the deal with new Droid users who are all up in your face about how the Droid is the best phone on the planet, and any one who uses an iPhone is a big fucking idiot, and yadda yadda yadda. Newsflash: 1) We're talking about phones, and 2) I can't even make a call on my iPhone anyway, so what's the diff?! Gahwd)


So even though I didn't believe my doctor when he said I should rest it for a minimum of a week, it's now been a week. And I haven't run. I've starved myself, but no running. I'd rather starve myself and at least have an endorphin rush, ya know?

Anyhoo, going to try and go out on Saturday at the earliest.

Yours in not running greatness...

Sloppy Seconds

So last night I decided I would drop the boys off this morning and go directly to the trail to run, no matter what the weather was. Driving to school, it didn't seem too rainy, just a light drizzle. By the time I got to the trail, it was really raining. But, by my calculations, I would be under trees, a perfect canopy and stay pretty dry.

Nice. In reality, the trees, when combined with wind, create MORE rain and a very sloppy trail. I decided not to try and save my fancy pants pink running shoes, but instead hit every puddle. A few times the puddles tried to suck off my shoes, but I plowed on.

As compared to my previous two train runs, this one was awesome. I felt like the ol' me (plus 40 pounds...that's right! I lost almost five pounds last week. Michael? Nine!). For those of you who know that zoo route, my first goal was to not stop running until I made the bench. Done.

On the back stretch, I marveled at how I hadn't run into any other people (tangent: ever notice when you're on the trail and a runner is coming towards you, they always say a greeting that's like three syllables? Like "good morning!"? The last time I ran, I passed four people. Every one said good morning. I was sucking wind SO HARD I could only say "hi." It was more like "huh." Anyhoo...)

So there I am, feeling like the old Runner World and all of a sudden! Twist my ankle and let out a scream. Because it hurt. But, not as bad as the sprain during my rookie year of running. I managed to swirl it around and finish the run. It hurt more when I got home, but a little ice and elevation, and it'll be fine in a couple of days.

I really had a good run. Woo hoo!

Shoes would probably disagree.

This One Goes Out To the Elf

OK, OK. Enough hiding.

I'm fat. 45 pounds overweight (I AM NOT LYING).

Here's how you'll know I'm not lying.

Ever felt your stomach hit the top of your thighs when you sit down? I now can say I have.

Or, can you actually pick up your stomach with both hands and wave goodbye to your sons? I can.

It hurts now, but while I was living large with my chocolate chips, asagio cheese, Pizza Fridays, vodka lemonades, vodka cranberry lemonades, vodka tonics with lime, vodka 7-ups it felt soooooooooooooooooooooo good.

But enough is enough. Not even going to call it a comeback. Just calling it an attempt. I'm working in partnership with my friend Amy, who just had an adorable baby, weighs 130 lbs and wants to lose 10lbs. Yes, total bitch, right? But she's totally motivated and will keep me on track.

So far this week:

1. The boys have started Montessori school and hated it. I cried two days after dropping them off.
2. Ate under 1400 calories every day.
3. Ran three times (once for 23 minutes, once for 13 minutes, and once for 31 minutes). Strike that. More like shuffled, walked, panted, stopped, cursed chocolate chips, and then continued.
   
4. Contemplated putting the Goose down (she's not well).
5. Marveled at how much gas two dogs can produce.
6. Watched a ton of raw food videos after stumbling on runningraw.com. Seriously, check this guy out. He's awesome. I'd totally be his friend.
   
7. Ate one green smoothie.
   

Not bad, right?

So, the goal is to not drink for 40 days (Michael's homage to the Lenten season ), and train for the Race for the Roses 1/2 marathon in April. We'll see.

Starting weight as of last Sunday.....wait for it....157 pounds. You're probably thinking, wait! Sarah! But you're only five feet tall. And to that I say fucking right.

Hell. Yes.

So, the ol "no wheat and no dairy" is not so bad. It's the "no alcohol" that I have a problem with. I'm perfectly content to own my alcoholism.

Tangent: so I'm watching Celebrity Rehab (did you see that woman have a seizure? Jesus!) and Dr. Drew tells the chick from ANTM (Michael--that means America's Next Top Model) that "normal" people don't use alcohol to relax. For a brief second I wondered if I too, was an alcoholic because, goddamn if I don't use alcohol to relax. EVERY DAY. I mean, what's the point of it otherwise? I love the taste and the burn in my throat. Good times.

I digress.

So I've had two official workouts--one arm day and one leg day. Neither was that bad and I'm happy to report I'm still able to walk and lift my arms. Now, I'm just going to add the cardio and done and done.

My diet is pretty much the same every day:

Breakfast: One egg scrambled with red peppers, onion and a bit of ketchup to finish. Some days I have 1/2 cup of oatmeal, some days not.

Lunch: Big salad (note to Benji: always wearing my sweatpants) with 3 ounce chicken breast, an assortment of vegetables and 2 tablespoons light dressing

Dinner: 3 ounces chicken, one cup brown rice, some vegetable

Snack can be one cup butternut squash soup or apple with one tablespoon almond butter or some other raw item.

It's really not that bad. But behold my latest score:


That's right--a Vita-Mix blender!!! You're probably wondering, "Sarah, how can you afford a $500 dollar blender on your meager freelance salary?"

After spending an inordinate amount of time on Ebay, I finally found an interesting post on Craigslist--a Vitamix blender, new in the box, for $290. Hmm. I email Juanwonderboy and inquire about said blender. We agree on a price and decide to meet on a Sunday.

At SE 82nd and Flavel at a 7-11 for cash only. Now, for those of you in the know, 82nd and Flavel is dangerously close to being classified as Felony Flats. 82nd is also the prostitution capital of Portland, despite the street being renamed "Avenue of Roses." That still cracks me up.

Anyhoo, the thing was new in the box, unused and I can only think that Juanwonderboy snatched this sucker from the back room of some Jamba Juice. Anyhoo, the thing is HOT. And it's awesome. It scares me. It's like a jet plane taking off. But it can pulverize a blood orange in three seconds flat. Good times.

This weekend I fell off the diet/exercise wagon so hard that I got a wheel stuck in my ass. It's not pretty. I'm trying desperately to jump back on. This week running commences. I was at New Balance and lo and behold my pregnancy feet are finally gone (only 6 years after the fact). I'm back to my 5 1/2 shit kickers and ready to run like an antelope, out of control.

Hell. No.

Damn you chocolate chips and alcohol. I have now officially eclipsed my starting Weight Watchers weight by a pound and a half (for those of you playing at home, that was 138 pounds. I'm five feet tall. Not pretty).

So when you know you're fat, it's not like you're going to hop on the scale, so how do I know I'm tipping them at 139.5? Because I started working with a trainer today. Woohoo! Michael's trainer Casey, who runs a sweet bootcamp over here on the West side, and basically knows everything there is to now about diet and nutrition.

So, even though I hate the Day One stuff, yes, today was Day One. Again.

Looking like the calories are going to be about 1200/1300 a day (holy shit) and working out twice a week with cardio thrown in . For maximum results I'm going to detox for the first three weeks (at least) using the Paleo diet. Meat, fruits, vegetables, seeds, nuts. Repeat.

Hang on people. It's going to be bumpy, and very grouchy ride.

Pssst. I ran today.

I did it. Finally. And it was wonderful. Fed my soul. I thought about how the past six months have been pretty difficult. Then I realized it hasn't been just the past six months. It's probably been years. And years. But after seeking counseling and getting the brain chemicals in line, I finally feel different. As in happier. Calmer. More content. It's the first time I've felt this way. I may have felt these things every now and then...and then as soon as I realized I was feeling them, they were gone.

Now I can deal with things. I can get the kids ready to go somewhere and not freak out. I can try to make new friends and not self analyze everything I do or say. I can let some things go. And I can enjoy my children and my husband. I'm not done by any means, but I do feel like I'm making a start. And after re-reading all these "Day one" or "Getting back on the horse" or "Today is the first day of the rest of my life" crappola entries, I'm happy to realize that there are no starting or ending points. It's just one big day. And I'm loving today.

And I loved the trail. It was pristine. So I gave money to Forest Park Conservancy. If you ever use the trails or visit Forest Park, give them some money. The place is magical.

Is Closure Ever a Good Thing?

Nope. It's been a whirlwind of activity these last 20 or so days since I began the diet/return to greatness/comeback and today is again day one for the diet.

However, I do think I've reached closure with the injury. Two days after the first Day One, I received Runners' World. I was excited to read Benjamin Cheever's article about his injury. His story read just like mine:

1. Get injured.
2. Do research.
3. Buy tons of products and services to help solve the problem/injury.
4. Become depressed when nothing works.

However, the author was given the name of a doctor who specializes in back pain, but has an interesting theory about pain in general:

When people don't deal with emotional baggage--whether it's from the stress of every day life or from more serious issues--the body will create real physical pain for the sufferer to deal with. It's all about the Mind Body connection. So, the doctor's name is Dr. John Sarno. I bought the book. I read the book. I nearly fell out of my chair when reading his description of people who suffer from this "syndrome."

So, as soon as I read the book and accepted that this is probably what is going on with me and my hamstring, that nagging pain in my back went away. I shit you not. Almost immediately.

The next thing on the docket was for me to have my last PT appointment. I planned to tell my fantastic PT about my new theory and discovery. But before I could even do that, he sat me down and started a counseling session. He began by saying: "You know, I've been talking to Amy (my fantastic chiropractor), and we both think you have so much on your plate...."

And at this point, I broke down and started blubbering like a big fat baby. I told him everything I'd discovered and he basically concurred. He encouraged me to keep doing my exercises but also deal with any issues in my life. Not looking forward to that.

Then, as I was driving home from Camas(I work there twice a week. Stupid. I know. And a big contributor to mind/body out-of-whackedness), I was in a car accident! Only my worst nightmare. I was the first car in a five car pile-up on the 405. Which means a dummy behind me couldn't stop in time and barreled into another car who then hit me. Then two other cars joined in the party. No damage to me, but 3000 to the car. Good times(tm).

A few days after that I had my big Chi Running Seminar. THE BOMB. I learned a new way to run and I'm amazed by it. Needless to say I've only run two times since then because I still have a lot of fear about running and the injury (it's natural says Dr. John Sarno), but each time I expended very little energy (I wasn't huffing and puffing like I thought I would be) and my legs didn't feel like cement posts. It's great. Get the book. Or sign up. As soon as the heat wave passes, I'm going to start running every day. For now, I've given up on my huge marathon goal. The pressure I put on myself to run a marathon and redeem my earlier failures was probably a big contributor to the injury. I'm just going to run and try to lose some weight. Then I'll sign up for some races.

And, that is that. Although, I am dealing with a 2 year old who is determined to break me. It's his life goal.

Anatomy of a Recovery: Day One

Even though I've been dealing with this injury since March and have been undergoing therapy, I haven't really felt like anything was ever going to improve. And I realize my really effing bad attitude will not help.

So, today is day one. Day one of the diet. Day one of the exercise. Day one of doing everything I can to get back to my old running self. Here's how Day One is going:

5:30am
Get out of bed only to find that I can't move--my upper neck/back area hurts so effing bad. I can't raise my arms or move my head without pain. At one point I cry big fat hot tears.

5:47am
Eat four advils.

5:50am
Prepare a healthy breakfast of 1/2 cup granola with strawberries, blueberries, bananas. Take the first bite and realize that the fruit tastes like it had been buried in dirt for five days.

5:55am
Spit out granola and prepare half a blueberry bagel. Get the cream cheese out of the fridge. Quickly discover the cream cheese has been at the back of the fridge and has frozen and thawed many times since its purchase. It looks like cottage cheese. I eat it anyway.

Day One is ROCKING!

So, that's how the morning starts. I should also mention The Zit (TM), which is like my new best friend. It arrived last week with a nice hard bump on my chin that escalated into a volcano with a whitehead so large it was practically un-popable. I hugged Owen and not only did it hurt when it brushed his head, but it was so huge that he had to ask: "What the heck is that?" Now it's nice and red and bloody with a scab that I have to fight not to pick off. I am so sexy it hurts right now.

So, last week I did a tiny amount of running with the PT. My homework is do some very light hill running and walking and exercises to strengthen the hammy and stabilize the pelvis (have I told you it's been an unstable pelvis this whole effing time? Thanks to C-sections and not using core muscles at all? Good lord). I was at the point last week where I was going to say eff this and just run again, but he told me not to panic. Obviously he doesn't know me very well.

That's about it from here. I'm hoping to post more regularly so there's a record of my amazing recovery and return to running. The not-running has been so difficult. It's truly been a grieving process, and I don't like it one bit. Here's to recovery!

And to that I say...

So still no resolution on the hamstring. I've been doing trigger point stuff, chiropractic stuff and there is still pain when I run. Even when I'm not running I can feel something going on. So tomorrow morning I'm going to Rebound Physical Therapy in Vancouver to meet with a supposed miracle-worker-with-runners guy. We'll see.

One of the biggest things I hate about this injury that half the time I think I'm making it up in my head and everyone who's been dealing with me thinks I'm a nut job. Which I am but not about this thing.

But for the last three months I've been the injured runner, which is hard to explain to non-runners and runners who never get injured (those mother fuckers). I basically walk around in a cloud of malaise and when someone asks what's wrong, I respond with "I'm not running."

Now mind you, I totally understand I could participate in other exercise. And to that I say fuck you.

Seems like wearing underwear on the outside of clothing improves a person's mood. I may try it out.

Update from Depression Central

Running? Not quite. The hamstring situation is very confusing and bizarre. I've got a chiropractic appointment on Thursday to throw down the gauntlet. Might lead me to a "specialist" in Vancouver. Basically after several months of sporadic running, chiropractic treatments and two enormous bars of bittersweet baking chocolate, the hamstring is no better, and maybe even worse.

I couldn't NOT run on Saturday in 70 degree temperatures and at about a mile in, the hammie starts talking. Five minutes later it shut down. I'm identifying the pain/weirdness in colors. When it's serious and threatens to do something bad, it's like a nice dark maroon. When it's just a nag (all day, every day), it's aquamarine, like my birth stone.

So, yesterday was Oliver's 2nd birthday, which also marks our second year in the house and one year six months since I began my "comeback."

Jeffy, stop reading here.

I'm pissed that I haven't reached any of my running goals. I'm pissed that I feel like a quitter and I'm pissed that I have no core strength. And I'm really pissed that I'm not focused enough to get some core strength.

The end. So, I'm pissed, but I am moving forward. Please lord, don't make me become a swimmer.

They don't care. As long as they have stinky lion and glow in the dark bone pajamas, they're fine.

Once a...always a....?

God lord I hope so. I'm checking in to give myself a very public pity party. I have no idea why this crap always happens to me. Maybe because I'm a miserable, negative pain in the ass who deserves nothing but failure. I told you it's a pity party. Decide right now whether you're attending. If not, click away, quickly.

I've been going to the chiropractor, who I love. I've been getting the painful Graston (I cried on Thursday when she tried to separate my hamstrings from each other). I've been getting the "massages" that aren't really massages but more like a lot of elbows in the hamstring. And every time I set out for a run the pain comes back. Sometimes worse than others. And it's taken the joy I used to have for running right out of the equation. Now I simply start out and wait for the hamstring to flare and start making mental notes to tell to my chiropractor.

Now a lot of this is my fault. I haven't done a lot of strengthening and as soon as I decided the full marathon was out (yes. I made the decision), I resigned from being a caveman. But seriously, will this thing ever go away? Am I just being a big huge baby?

But then I think about how the chiropractor always seems a little amazed about what is going on with my leg muscles. She brought her assistant in to feel the situation and then told me that she was going to spend the weekend trying to figure out why my quad muscle has moved and now partially wraps around the back of my leg. So I do know I'm not making up the pain. The question is, do I just run through it, or continue to baby it? I do think it's gotten to this point because I have just run through it since getting back on the horse 2 years ago. I can pinpoint at least three separate instances where I pushed too hard when I knew my hamstrings were toast and hurt. I just wanted the glory of sprinting to the top of the hill or getting that 8:20 timed mile.

Whew. This is getting boring. But I'm still in my running clothes. And I'm still sweaty and I just don't know what to do. When it started happening again on my run, I pretty much realized a half marathon now seems just as daunting as the full. I decided not to do it. And that is sad. Because again, I got half way through the training and failed miserably.

As much as I don't want to quit, I also don't want to make it worse. I also don't want to flush 200 dollars down the toilet and not at least try. But do I want to tear it or worse? Or do I want to suck it up, cancel the race and still go to Eugene and be surrounded by people happy to be running and completing their first marathon or hitting their PR or something else that's effing positive? Won't I be miserable? Of course. It's who I am.

So just a whole lot of question marks. So I went to this blog to see what she did. And it made me feel a little better that she made the decision not to run.

It's really breaking my black little heart and I don't know what to do.

Maybe look some more at this guy:

The Caveman Cometh

(huuuuuuuuge sigh)

Such a long story. Such heartbreak. Such pity partying. Such weird dreams. Such becomes such a strange word when you use it a lot.

Weeks ago I went for a 14 mile run. It was going great until mile 10 when I had a sudden attack of IT band-itis. Pain at the side of the knee like a mother fucker. No better words to describe it. Had to run/walk, bite my tongue for four miles. I tried everything to make it stop nothing worked.

Came home. Cried to Michael (keep in mind this is the exact same "injury" and leg that kept me finishing the Portland Marathon a.k.a The Big Running Failure). Then got down to Internet research.

On some random message board, a guy told another guy to "just go get Graston and be done with it." I've done a ton of research on running injuries and have never heard of this. So, I read and read and found some chiropractors in town who can do it. They use stainless steel torture devices.

So I scheduled my first treatment at Hawthorne Chiropractic. We've been doing a lot of Active Release Therapy (ART) and I've had one session of Graston. Both hurt. A lot. I bruised. And I got to wear that sweet tape you may have seen in the Olympics. So I'm now an Olympic-caliber athlete.

So in the past three weeks I've had:

• ART (3x)
  
• Graston
• X-ray to determine severity of leg length discrepancy (oh yes! one leg a lot shorter than the other. Got a lift. May be just voodoo medicine)
• Video gait analysis (I run with my legs too close together and my stride is not long enough)
• Painful massage
• Kinsei Taping
  
• Maybe 8 miles of running total

The real problem is not the IT band. I can fix that readily with the foam roller (damn you foam roller). It's the chronic hamstring on the other leg. I hate hamstrings. Last night I had a dream that my real doctor told me not to run the marathon because a) the hamstring isn't fixed and b) I'm not ready training-wise. I thought about getting a t-shirt in my goody bag and never being able to wear it. I thought about the pain in having to tell people that yes, in fact I've failed at TWO marathon attempts. So I ran it. In my dream. Which amounted to me walking around and talking to people and trying to avoid tornadoes.

So, what's the deal with the Caveman? The chiropractor recommended that I try the Paleo Diet.

Here's what you can eat: meat, eggs, fruits, vegetables.
Here's what you can't eat: everything, including potatoes.

So I started it two days before my birthday, ignored it on my birthday and also our two days in Lincoln City.

(SIDE STORY: met the lead singer of Air Supply in the elevator while at the coast. I gushed "I love your songs!!" [I truly do]. And the gold digger girlfriend/manager/Yoko Ono told me about his NEW CD where he sings a duet with his daughter. Uh, no thanks. Like that could compare to Making Love Out of Nothing At All??! SIDE STORY 2: I am a Lincoln City 10. If you're ever feeling bad about yourself physically, please get to Lincoln City pronto and feel gorgeous!)

So, the diet. I've been very consistent with it and surprisingly enough I have more energy and am not hungry. I was fully ready to be starving all the time. Why this diet? It's all non-inflammatory food. With all the treatments and leg issues I don't need any more inflammation. I'm doing it for a month. Check back then.

Every night Michael and I have an exchange like this: Did you know cavemen drank vodka? Totally. They grew the potatoes and made that shit all the time. Did you know cavemen invented bacos? Etc. etc.

So one month to D-Day. I plan on upping the mileage and just running right up to the marathon and treating it like my longest run ever.

P.S. It's true. The foam roller actually will stop hurting if you use it consistently. Oh, and a strong core will help with running. Damn you core!

2L2Q

I now have two running mantras that are supposed to help me through the marathon. One is totally lame but did help me through some bad runs.

Run through it--developed during a bad week of runs. Sometimes as I run I only concentrate on how badly things our going. My breathing, my legs, my speed, etc. Believe you me, if there's something to bitch about, I will do it! So during this run I told myself that I just need to run through it, because hopefully in about 3 or 4 minutes, I'll start feeling better. I know there will be some very dark times during the marathon, unless I suddenly become Wonder Woman and/or butterflies start flying out of my rear.

The other mantra came to me on Sunday, as I ran a very short trail run--2 Legit 2 Quit.

How does that song just pop into one's head, you may ask? Well, I'm not ashamed to say that I am probably the only person over the age of 33 who still watches the Real World. One of the guys on the show has been wearing a bracelet that says LEGIT. Which I totally need, BTW. [not so subtle birthday hint right here--march 23rd].


Tangent--why do new songs not incorporate hand movements? I mean, "I would Die 4u?" That's good stuff, people! And 2L2Q with its throat slashing at the end? Priceless!

I was in PA all last week because my grandfather was hospitalized and very sick. Needless to say I didn't run ONE DAY. Maybe because when I got there it snowed 4 inches, and then the high temperature was 22 degrees and my teeth froze in my head and I shouted "How can you live here???!!!" in the hospital parking lot (which is the tiniest parking lot on the planet).

So, after a week off, I'm back in the saddle, albeit with a sore hammy, but people, I am 2L2Q and am looking forward to completing this effing marathon with hair afire.

Peace.

WWSD?

I joined a book club since moving (on up) to the West Side. I'm not sure why, because I would rather watch TV until my face fell off, but a little adult time with some nice women seemed like a good idea. The books so far have been OK, but it's the book we didn't read that has been the Best Book Ever(TM).

Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage can be described thusly: "Shackleton's third attempt (at reaching the South Pole) involved sailing the Endurance as far into Antarctica as possible, then finishing the expedition on foot. But almost from the beginning the expedition was beset by difficulties." And that's like saying that I dislike the Cowboys a little bit.

(Endurance beset in the Ice)

Don't want to give anything away because you MUST read it, but needless to say they lose the ship, have to camp on an ice floe for months (during winter), are cold and wet and hungry all the time and then finally six of them have to set sail for rescue on a tiny boat in the most turbulent water on the planet. Oh yeah, and then hike across an island that's basically a mountain range. They were gone for over two years.

So, of course, after I read the book (and cried like a baby), I rented the A&E movie and Michael and I watched it this week. Michael and I both decided that there was absolutely no way I couldn't finish the marathon after seeing what Shackleton and the crew went through. I think Michael said something like: "They had frostbite, had abscesses on their asses and sailed 800 miles. You're going to be running through Eugene Oregon in May."

And there you have it. While I'm running and contemplating quitting because that's what I do, I'll look down at my arm, on which I will have written "WWSD?"

What would Shackleton do?

Oh yeah, had a crappy week of running due to illness, but pounded out 12.25 with an average of 9:47 per mile. Sweet.

8.36 and 12 = Pain

Just because I don't post doesn't mean I don't run. Actually, it's kind of more like the opposite. The running is definitely increasing, because (drumroll) I actually paid money for the marathon and booked a motel room.

Try backing out of that. This is something I must do for my life to be complete. I'm not sure why. No, I am sure why. I hate it when someone asks me if I've ever run a marathon. Usually what I say is "I trained for a marathon, but I didn't finish." Anyone who's run any distance will understand the amount of miles that go into marathon training, but they still will only hear the hated, big three letters: DNF.

It's not like I can say:
"I spent months and months training for the marathon running every fucking Sunday morning up at Germantown road mostly by myself and then one day on an average training run with my work peeps I was running down a hill to finish the run and turned my ankle really bad and it hurt and I got up and kept running but my ankle swelled to the size of a grapefruit and I've never had a sprained ankle and had to stop running for at least four if not six weeks and then when I came back I must have been compensating for it because I developed this awful IT band injury about a month or so before the marathon and I researched it and stretched it and even took Vioxx which is now banned which explains a lot doesn't it but I had already paid for the marathon so I had to run it and at four miles in the IT band started hurting but I kept going but about mile nine I could barely bend my leg and I was having trouble stepping over railroad tracks on the course and I hated having to walk and it killed so bad so I stopped at 13 miles came home ate three doughnuts and watched the Eagles and had a pity party and felt like a big fat loser ever since."

It would just take up so much time, right? So anyway, I had small victories this week and last. Last week I did all the running and logged +31 miles. I also ran 10 miles on the Springwater trail with a person I didn't know who I just "bumped" into on the trail. It's one of the nicest things about running--the community. She was also a mom of two small kids, a Weight Watchers lifetimer (oh yes, I am!) and nice enough to engage me in conversation as I tried passing her at the slowest possible pace.

This Friday I had my speed workout. I did mile repeats (just two, don't get excited, Elf) and I am happy to report that although my goal was to average 9:20, I did 8:36 and didn't die. Very happy about that. The next day (yesterday) I ran 12 miles and almost died. Even though I wanted to call it a day at 10, I toughed it out.

Now, if I could please see some weight loss on the scale? What does a person have to do for chrissakes?

Doryman's Dark

Last Friday on my five-miler, I came across a big fat yellow lab parked in the middle of the road. An older couple in a bright canary yellow mini Cooper also saw the roadblock and circled around to ask me if it was my dog. Ah, no.

But due to its weight, yellow labness, and my expert Dog Whispering techniques, I stopped to help the dog. (This may surprise you, but I also typically hate other people's dogs.) After a couple minutes of ringing bells, we found a nice geezer lady who knew where the dog lived--supposedly. Of course, Dory (the dog) loved this woman because she put dog treats on her curb! Portland kills me sometimes. Also, geezer ladies know everything about everything in their neighborhoods.

By this time another runner and her dog had joined the fray, so me, old lady from the mini cooper, new runner girl (with a Texans hat on! Are you kidding me? A Texans hat? What the F??!!), runner-girl dog and fat ass Dory did a nice slow jog up a couple streets.

As the old lady starts jogging in her obviously non-running shoes, I tell her "You don't have to run! We'll wait for you at the top of the hill."

She says, "I used to be a runner. But now I have a bad knee. Got it from running too much when I was your age."

I tried to downplay my running and not make her long for marathon training and said, "Oh, I just run to keep in shape because I've had two babies."

And she said, "Oh, I can tell you're a good runner. You have a great gait."

And then, just like George Constanza after telling a good joke, I wanted to leave the scene immediately so nothing could ruin that nice moment of an old runner complimenting my gait.

Long story short, another geezer lady told us where Dory lived and we got her home safe and sound. To the son of her deceased owner, who has to put her up for adoption because he's a single guy and works all the time. Totally depressing.

Last note: I did ten miles on Saturday. I did not fuel properly the night before (Did you know pizza and cheesy bread is not a good choice? Me neither!) and did have a hard time finishing it up. I felt like I was hallucinating. I came inside, asked Michael for a Gatorade and he totally made fun of me for sounding pathetic. If I had had any strength I would have kicked his ass off the deck. Instead I sat on the stairs and cried. It was tough, but it's in the books.

Total mileage last week:
Monday: 4.5
Tuesday: 6.5
Wednesday: off
Thursday: off (bad Sarah! Went to the zoo instead)
Friday: 5.0
Saturday: 10

Total mileage this week is looking to be around 33. God help me.