I Want to Run

Maybe this whole injury thing will be like when you keep a bull in a pen and mess with him a bunch, and then you let him out into the rink with Luke Perry, and, holy crap, nobody can stay on that bull for 8 seconds. In fact, Luke is just so good that he does stay on for 8 seconds, but then he dies.

My point, obviously, is that I am beginning to really miss running, and I am hoping that my enthusiasm and agitation will lead to an easy time catching up once I get the green light from the doc to run again. (In my very apt metaphor, I am the bull.)

So, this week is going fine. My PT appointment this morning was a full-on torture session. Stacy looks all cute and sweet until she starts pressing her thumbs into your shin splints and making you do exercises with your weakest muscles.

Still, the session of pain gives me some hope that I am going to be back on my feet soon. Stacy’s on board with me doing the Mud Run on Aug. 12, so we still like her.

This Saturday will be the first training run where I don’t even attempt to run. I am manning the water route instead, because who wants to be sleeping at 6:30 in the morning? Nah, I volunteered because I don’t want to fall out of the crew. I am still training for a marathon, after all. I should be dragging my ass out of bed like everybody else.

So, you guys know my policy on Friday work, right? I’m against it. Here’s what I have done so far instead:

1. Googled to learn fitness benefits of swimming. Learned that swimmers often gain weight because swimming makes people ravenously hungry. Sounds vaguely familiar (see last post). But I’m not going to think about that today. I’ll think about that tomorrow.
2. Used a paper clip to fix a fashion faux pas. I am very proud of this. I am wearing a nice black sleeveless top with a white bra (look, it is hard enough for me to get to the gym by 7 a.m., but I am also supposed to pack matching clothes? Be reasonable.) So, I was getting increasingly self-conscious and it was really driving me nuts until I had a huge epiphany and paper clipped the straps together in the back. Now, it’s as if I am wearing one of those fancy criss-cross bras, and the straps are pulled in enough that you can’t see them at all! Seriously, take that Macgyver.
3. Discovered another website that stores up running routes. I know, you are thinking, how many of those do you need? Well, pipe down, because this one allows me to have my own webpage! Sooo, now I have to load it up with every route I can conjure. This is so fun. If you want me to prepare a route for you, just let me know. Any city, I swear. Try me.

In other news, guess what next Saturday is? My BIRTHDAY!

Another Day, Another Doctor’s Visit

I have a cold. And it’s about 1,000 degrees outside. I hate that.

Anyway, Dr. McFeely had little news to report on my bum leg today. He scheduled me for an MRI on Monday. They asked me if I was claustrophobic or had any metal in my body, and I briefly thought about how on House, one of the best shows ever, a guy with tattoos had horrifying pain in an MRI. I was going to mention the tattoo on my foot, but then I remembered that only prison tats have metal in them. Good thing I had those tears removed.

I should go swimming tonight, and I actually really want to, but I can barely breath on land. I might die under water.

The other thing I want to do is EAT. Does everybody have hungry-hungry days, or just me? In a perfect world, I would have a burger and fries and chicken wings and a banana split with a scoop of chocolate fudge brownie, a scoop of coffee and maybe a scoop of cookies ‘n; cream or peanut butter. I don’t know if I can hold out. I might go buy some fries soon.

Physical therapy is going fine. Stacy taught me some exercises that should strengthen my quadriceps and some little muscle in my calf that sounds like “Solaris,” which I think was a really bad movie. But I didn’t see it, so I’m open to the possibility that the movie was ok.

My concern at this point is that I won’t be ready to run in time for the Mud Run. This simply CAN’T happen, because I will simply DIE if I cannot compete as part of the Dirt Flirts.

That’s right, we have a name. Katy, Kristin, Grace, Caitlin and I are Dirt Flirts. I don’t really know what that means, but Caitlin pointed out that we are listed right before the Dirty Bastards, and that suits me just fine.

So, now I’m in short term goal mode. I will compete as a Dirt Flirt. I will be the Dirt Flirtiest ever.

Mmmmmm, fries.

Takes More Than A Bum Leg To Keep Me Down

I am running a marathon. And it will be this year.

That has become my mantra. I repeat it when I swim, with each poorly formed stroke. I silently repeated it when my alarm clock went off at 6 a.m. Saturday morning, and as I dragged myself out for an eight-mile run, which should have been easy after last week’s 12-miler.

It’s incredibly frustrating to have your body get in the way of your goals. Before now, my experience with that feeling was pretty much limited to times when I got too sleepy to keep partying when my friends were going strong. I certainly got a taste of it when I broke my leg a few years ago, but I knew that was so temporary. I needed a mantra because, in it’s absence, another phrase sneaks into my head:

Plenty of people just can’t run a marathon. They aren’t equipped. Their bodies’ resist, balk, refuse.

I started the run Saturday full of optimism. I had rested for a week, except for the swimming. My mother had sent me some information about avoiding shin splints by relaxing your legs below the knee. That didn’t work. Instead, I tried to send “work hard!” vibes to my upper legs and my butt. I don’t think that worked, either.

After a little over a mile, I was in too much pain to continue. I walked about four more miles. Then, I went home a laid a bag of frozen peas over my shin. Sunday morning, I was limping.

I am running a marathon. I am running a marathon.

This week, I have two PT appointments and appointment with my orthopedic doc, who will give me an MRI to make sure there is not more damage than just inflammation.

Coach Rich told me that swimming will keep my heart and lungs even more fit than running would. If we can get me back in fighting form over the next two weeks, I will be fine.

It will be this year.

If Today Weren't Friday, I Might Just Quit My Job

I'm just kidding, sort of.

Anyway, my hip (or, as some might say, gluteal tendonitis) still hurts a little. I mean, really, that I can just sort of feel it all the time -- I wouldn't call it pain, per se. So, tomorrow I get to try to run 8 miles. If I feel pain beyond a "2" on a 1-10 scale, I have to stop. Blech

If I do have to stop, then I am facing an MRI next week, and I will probably have to take another two weeks off of running. All of this really, really sucks, but I am running this marathon, come hell or high water. Seriously, the humiliation factor is too high, and I've really got my heart set on it.

But enough about that. I believe I promised to share my extensive gossip website expertise. First, I'd like to address what I look for in a gossip website.

1. Up-to-date celebrity news. Accuracy is a nice bonus, but a handful of unsubstantiated rumors never hurt anybody. Much. Whatever.

2. Snarkiness. Interestingly, I've found that men truly excel at good old mean spirited attacks, which is why my list of sites is well-balanced genderwise.

3. Funny pictures. This is important, because it means a site has to be willing to risk lawsuits to post copywrited material. My favorite site have no fear, and I respect that.

4. Crude language. I don't know why, but it helps.

Alright, so now I will pass on the important stuff. Use it well.

1. The Superficial
This is what would happen if guys would just admit they love celebrity gossip. This website sets a new standard in snarkiness. If you are ever wondering if you are a bad person, read this website. You will feel like an angel. Not only is the writer really mean, he is also fairly sleazy. Excellent, right? And, ladies, I believe he may be single.


2. Go Fug Yourself
It is true that this site is designed to attack celebrity fashions, but it is really so much more. I am not big into fashion (I'm hoping nobody just thought obviously), but this is one of my favorite diversions. It is hilarious. Oh, and don't be afraid to utilize the categories on the left side. Allow me to recommend the selection of Britney Spears.

3. Pop Candy
This one is a great all purpose timewaster. It's fantastic for those days when I simply can't find the time to spend all day surfing the web. Whitney, who I fancy to be just like me, does it for me and posts all the worthwhile stuff. I am on board with her tastes in most things, so she sometimes helps be find a new author or band I need to love. This is a kinder, gentler blog.

4. What Would Tyler Durdin Do?
Named after the character in "Fight Club," this website rivals The Superficial in level of evil, but also in level of funny. So go there. You won't be sorry.

Oh, I really do have to work now. Dang, because I have news to report re: the mud run. Well, next time.

Peas Will Save Us All

I skipped a training run for the second time yesterday. Instead, I swam for 25 minutes, which is a really long time for me. There is so much to keep track of when you are swimming: fingers together, arms flailing (well, that’s how I do it), legs kicking (except sometimes when I forget to kick), head turning, stay in your lane, cast magic spell on goggles to stay free of water. It’s hard.

I wonder if this would be just another thing to keep track of (maybe only if I know the words to the song) or a welcome distraction from my exhaustion. Does anybody have one? I am nervous that I would use it wrong and destroy my iPod. The stakes may be too high.

So, my trainer rocks. Stacy is exactly my age and is from Irving, Texas, which is just about a dozen miles from my hometown. Speaking of my hometown - and I can’t tell you how much excitement this has caused in my life – it turns out it is one of the 100 BEST places to live! Number 19, baby. It doesn’t get better than that (we declined on 1-18. Those numbers are so pretentious. Is that the kind of place you want to live? I think not.

Anyway, Stacy took Doc’s molestations to a new level. These are not jobs for shy people. She pushed and poked and bended me all around, and basically said that:

1) I’m a big pronator
2) Poor rehab after I broke my leg has made it so that my brain doesn’t communicate well with my foot. She showed me this by telling me to move my foot in a bunch of different ways, and there were a couple that took me several tries. So it was like this:

Brain: Do this.
Foot: Hmm? How’s that?
Brain: No, do this.
Foot: I’m sorry, I was on the phone. What was that?
Brain: FOOT, I mean it.
Foot: Fine, there, I did it.

But my right foot is more like this:

Brain: Do thi—
Foot: Done!

Anyway, so all this poor communication and pronating and, incidentally, “weak glutes” (WTF?) means that I am using my muscles and other guts inefficiently, so some little ones are getting way more work than they can handle, while the big ones are sitting around surfing the web and playing sudoku.

Stacy says I gotta get strong and teach some guts to move more properly. I said ok. She said I might be able to do my run on Saturday, which is really exciting, but it was a definite maybe, nothing more. Until then, I’m going to be a little guppy, swimming my little guppy heart out. Tomorrow, I have another appointment with Stacy.

She also said I should be taking Aleve or Advil when I run (I’d been taking Tylenol), because they actually reduce inflammation rather than just mask pain. Lastly, she prescribed a few stretches to do a lot and some frozen peas to ice my leg where ever it hurts.

When I lived in Hawaii, we use to feed frozen peas to the fish when we were snorkeling. They have since banned frozen peas because the fish got really aggressive and started goosing people in demand of more peas. Who knew that peas were so multi-functional?

On a lighter note ...

I hate to leave you on such a sour note today, so allow me to redeem myself.

Gentlemen, are y'all aware of the feel-coppage opportunities available to orthopedic doctors? Somehow I hadn't noticed this before, but some of that doctoring is a little ... close. Halfway through, I was thinking he should have bought me dinner beforehand.

First of all, I'm glad I thought to shave this morning, or I would have been very self-conscious. He pushed on my calf muscle in lots of places. Then he had me lie on the table, and he pushed my knees up to my chest one at a time. Then, he kneeled down in front of me and pushed on either side of my hips, sort of crawling downward from my waist.

My brain was doing something like this:

"Oh, jeez, can he tell I'm wearing granny panties? How embarrassing. Wait, he's not thinking about my panties. Or is he?"

When he said "I'd like to see you back here in 10 days," I was like "Ha, I bet you would." I'm just kidding. I was really like: note to self, no granny panties on July 26.

Daphne and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I have a hell of a roller coaster for you today. It goes something like this:

The long run Saturday was the second-most-miserable in my life because it was hotter than hell and twice as humid, but then it got kind of awesome because I had this huge realization that I am seriously going to run a marathon, so I was really happy, and then I realized I had just run further than ever, ever, which was also awesome, and then I tried a really easy run Sunday, which hurt a lot, and now I just got back from the doctor, who said I have shin splints (duh) and gluteal tendonitis (huh?) in my left leg, which obviously sucked.

I’m bummed (hence the extreme liberties taken with grammar above). Tomorrow I start physical therapy. I go back to the doc in 10 days. If I’m not better by then, he will do an MRI to see if I have a stress fracture. I so totally don’t have a stress fracture.

I am well aware that this isn’t a huge deal, but he said to “try not to run” for “a week or two.” I’m just a smidge paranoid, because I’m sort of convinced that if I take said week or two off, I will be losing whatever capability I have to run long distances, and I will be starting over when the rest of my group is running 14 miles at a time.

Oh, and that tendonitis stuff is apparently caused by the fact that I am running funny because of my stupid shin splints (by the way, I checked, and it’s always plural. Like pants). And all of this likely goes back to the fact that I broke my leg a few years ago, which means my left leg is still a little weaker than my super-buff right leg.

When we have a little time, I’ll tell you the tale about the time I broke my leg on roller skates in the dead of winter. No, I wasn’t 5. I believe I was 25.

It's FRIDAY

Let's be honest, we are not going to get any work done today. It's cool, I understand that you busted your ass all week and mamma needs a little me time. Power to the people, baby. Now let's talk about what you are going to do for the next 6 hours.

Favorite running related websites:
Gmaps
I don't understand how running existed before this website. If I am going get all sweaty and tired and not cute on purpose, then I want to know exactly how far I am going. Plus, if you don't know how far you went, it gets a lot harder to brag about it. There is nothing more demoralizing than someone saying "Oh, I've run that trail, but I'm pretty sure it's two miles, not five."

USA Track and Field
This site is great if you are running in a new city, or you are new to running in your city. You can search for routes near you and then not run them. Oops, that's just me.

Marathon Times
I am totally going to beat David Lee Roth. I will strive to meet the Boston Marathon qualifying time for the 70 to 74 age bracket, and it would be nice to beat Majority Leader Bill Frist and former Vice President Al Gore. I have little hope of outrunning Diddy. Anyway, this is an awesome list. Who knew that Billy Baldwin was such a speedster?

Bike Washington, Running DC
These are some decent mapped out local trails.

She Finds
Have you ever noticed that buying workout clothes feels a little workout-ee? I mean, like you are doing something good for you. There is no shopping guilt. You are merely facilitating your healthy, active lifestyle!

Race Calendar
Awesome excuse for a trip somewhere cool.

Other very important websites:
Local Goodies, and More Local Goodies

Local Media Gossip, and National Media Gossip

Dark, Awesome "Comic Strips" and Funny Drawings

Next Friday, I will share my celebrity gossip website expertise. I can't give away all my secrets at once.

Oh, and about the running: I have an appointment with the leg doc Monday and my physical therapist Tuesday. Yesterday was the first day so far that I haven't stuck exactly to the training schedule. Instead of running three miles as prescribed, I did three miles on the elliptical, which should be significantly less stress on my leg. It still hurt afterward, but not as much, so I just iced it. Today, I'll swim, drink a bunch of water, eat some carbs and hope hope hope I can run 12 miles tomorrow morning. We will see ...

It's a mud, mud world

It's hurts to lift my coffee cup.

On August 12, I am joining forces with four girlfriends to do the mud run. I could not be more excited about this. It's a five mile race through mud and obstacles, and my team has to finish together. I foresee a perfect combination of team bonding and physical exertion. I picture it as a movie montage set to Pat Benetar's "All Fired Up" or Tears for Fears' "Everybody Wants to Rule the World."

Consultations with the team have produced the following goal: Don't. Be. Last.

Which brings me to the coffee cup. Teammate Kristin noted that our crew, while well fortified in running ability and fashion sense, appears to be lacking in upper body strength. But we have enough time to fix that, she said.

So, Monday, before the previously mentioned Butt, Thighs and Abs class (which I flunked), I meandered into the weights area of the gym for the first time and did three sets on every single arm and back-related machine in the room. When will the pain stop?

But there is a bigger issue. We can't actually sign up until we have a name. Please, please come up with a clever name? Here are my crappy ideas so far:

1. Mud-Lovely
2. Mud Sisters
3. Mud Studs

Obviously, none of those are acceptable. My favorite name from last year is "Mud, Sweat and Beers." Why can't I be that clever? So, help a girl out here. Pretty please.

On an unrelated note, I am highly stressed about Saturday's 12-mile run. The shin splints are getting worse, but my doctor and physical therapist appointments are not until next week. My plan is to stop running until Saturday, but swim every day until then. Um, except for today. I woke up late, ok? I'm tired.

How Did Daphne Get So Cool?

This has nothing to do with running or fundraising, but this seems like a good time to bring to light my life-long struggle with having cool parents. I know some of you had a tough lot, with highwater-wearing parents who said things like "You go to school to learn, not for a fashion show."

But I just want to note that it isn't all rock concerts and impeccable style for us, spawn of coolness, either. How do you think it felt for friends to come over in high school and say "hey, I didn't know you had this (cool) CD!" and I had to be all "I don't. It's my dad's."

Anyway, so I bring this up because I can't resist sharing Dad's most recent correspondence. This is what happened after I got him slang flash cards for Father's Day:

Daphne,

Thank you for the Slang 2 flashcards you gave me for father's day.

I used my new skills to salt the game of the scrubs at work. Meanwhile, the locs in the hood want to draw my vapors.

Another newb from Lockheed Martin was trying to gank my ish. When she made her faded proposal it was obvious the bee-yotch was jocking my idea. I said "snap, that's some dank statistical analysis of the program risk, but check out my mad flow." After I schooled her with my new ninja vocabulary she knew that she was acting a foo, mos def.

When I went home, my IPOD was bumpin while I was riding my pimped out fatboy through the hood with Logan on the back. She was so gully when we kicked down a dank house warming gift to my boos Glenn and Laura. Later I said" Yo G lets just kick it tonight and play that crazy Tomb Raider video game." She said "Fo shizzle". Logan went back home this week with Amie knowing that I am the coolest uncle ever.

Hit me later,

Dad

That Fur Ain't Mine

So, I really need to clear something up. It has come to my attention that several readers thought that these pictures were taken by me. As much as I love to take credit for others' work, I don't know what it says about me that you guys thought these were my legs.

Hey, I'll be honest. I wouldn't sign up for random leg inspections in mid-winter. I might be less inclined to purchase a new batch of razors when it's 20 degrees outside and I would sooner wear a sombrero than a miniskirt. But it's JULY, and those legs look like they belong to a pygmy gorilla.

I guess I'm just asking for a little faith, folks. Thanks.

In other news, I have a shin splint issue with my left (and very smooth and soft) leg (also having an issue with the question of whether "shin splints" is always plural. Please advise). Coach Rich was comfortingly blase about the whole thing, saying that my leg would probably strengthen and resolve the problem itself.
Just to be safe, I called to make an appointment with the physical therapy people at my gym. My insurance will cover it, so why not?

Saturday's run was only six miles -- from here on out, we will increase distance every other week. So, this coming Saturday will be 12 miles. When I have time to think about that, I think it will stress me out. Yesterday, I was accompanied by Laura, Kristin and Kerry to the Crescent trail for a 4-miler in million-degree heat. I love that trail, because it is semi shaded, flat, it has parking and you can buy drinks there.

This morning I dragged my ass into the gym for a "Butt, thighs and abs class," but I dragged my unaerobicized ass right back out of there as soon as it occurred to me that there were no locks on the doors. I was worried that I would feel bad about that decision later, but I gotta say, I'm still pretty happy about it. That was a cruel, horrible class that should be reserved for really bad people, not lil ol' me.

My Friends Are Pro-Cancer Research

Ok, today’s post is daunting, because I don’t really know how to do justice to last night. The fundraiser was a huge and total success, and here are some points of evidence:

1. You guys seriously gave me $409.80. That is 200 Twinkies! It’s, like, 10 tanks of gas! It’s three months of cable! And it’s several gobs of cancer research! You rock so much. We should definitely stay friends.

2. I have received several emails today referencing headaches and fatigue - symptoms that seem to be somehow linked to all of the unbridled fun had last night.

3. All the CDs are gone! I demand feedback. Immediately.
4. I happen to know that that, last night, gossip was spread, fires were fanned, resolutions were devised and a fence was breached. Beat that.

5. Beers were served by the bucket. I can’t believe that I haven’t mentioned before how much I love beers in buckets.

6. One guy - let’s just call him S.H. - left his credit card behind. That is always, always a sign of a good night. (S.H., the number at the Zoo Bar is 232-4225)

By the way, I have decided to run the Marine Corps Marathon over the Nike Women’s Marathon in San Francisco. I need you fools cheering me on to finish this thing.

Breaking the Law For Cancer

I went to bed last night thinking "that was the longest weekend ever," and I woke up this morning thinking "yeah, not so much going to make it to work today." So, hooray for July 5! I plan to celebrate by doing laundry, grocery shopping and finishing the very first edition of the Best Running Mix In History. I'm wild, y'all.

So, the CD: you guys, this is perhaps my best work. To not make it available to the public would be a crime. Almost as much of a crime as selling copywrited materials. The songs are short, keeping the attention span of even the most severe ADD case. There are songs for which you know all the words, songs you've never heard in your life and songs about how fame won't change us.

Anyway, I will be giving these CD away with a minimum donation of $5. I will have some available at the happy hour tomorrow, but I can also mail them out to anyone who's in need. I am a firm believer in the idea that workout mixes are most effective when you don't know what's coming. So, I can't really allow you to examine the playlist. But, if you decide you want one and you simply can't abide, say, hip hop or chick bands or monster ballads or whatever, I can easily customize your CD. But, before you make such a demand, think to yourself: Dare I mess with genius?

Meanwhile, dear readers, I will leave you will one of my favorite mix resources.

Now I Can Set New Standards in Laziness -- Guilt Free

Bon matin bebes!

Ok, it’s 11 am on Saturday. What have you accomplished? Because I just ran 10 MILES! Inevitably, somebody is saying, “well, I saved a child from a burning building, reconciled with my estranged father and gave myself a pedicure.” If this is you, I really don’t think this is the blog for you.

Anyway, my little captive audience, it was a great run! Sometimes a “good run” just means that you wouldn’t run off a bridge to stop the misery. Today, a good run means that I never really considered walking.

Here are the two downers:
1) Whatever genetic mutation resulted in my “big” toe being shadowed by my second toe has finally caught up to me. Both of my show-stealing second toes seem to be developing calluses of sort on their tips. Too much information, eh? Well, saddle up bebes, because this trail ride is just leaving the stable.

2) I lost my ring. I was about halfway through the run, and it started annoying me (I know this is hard to picture, but I actually get far more neurotic when I’m running). I took it off, and I thought I put in my little key pocket, but who knows? When I’m that tired, I don’t think so well. For all I know, I threw it at a biker.

Ah well, I’m tough. I can handle some discomfort in my mutant toes and a slightly less accessorized life. Toughie.