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.