Saturday 10k

K and I ran a 10k on Saturday. Considering we haven't been running consistently pretty much since our marathon, we were a little worried about how this would go.

We finished 4 minutes slower than we did in this same run last year. Still, though, we were under a 9:30 pace.

And with such beautiful weather and scenery to enjoy, it was hard to care too much about a silly thing like pace.

I was feeling superduperawesome at this point, so these are the pictures I took during the run. I hope to take more during our half-marathon this weekend, since it's in a location I haven't been to before.

I get busy ... You get 6 posts in 1!

Time Flies. That's It

How the hell does my life go by so quickly? The last time I posted, I had just gotten home from Orlando. I spent two nights in my own bed before heading north for a conference for work. Got back on Thursday, just in time to get ready for a massive party at our house on Saturday night, which brings me to ...

Mardi Gras -- Let's Not Do That Again

We had our kickball team over to the house on Saturday to celebrate Mardi Gras. We've hosted lots of parties at our place, since we're the only ones who live in a house (everyone else is single & in an apartment), and I worried that this one might blend in with all the others. Considering K spent 5 years in Louisiana and I felt like a semi-resident for about 4 years, we wanted to show everyone what Bourbon Street is all about.

So we found a recipe for hurricanes as close to the authentic Pat O'Brien's flavor as possible (we didn't think ahead enough to just order the mix. Four liters of liquor, and some grenadine, pineapple juice, and OJ later, we had our lethal potion. It was delicious, but it was destructive. As were the Jello shots made with 100-proof vodka.

Two beers, two hurricanes, and two Jello shots later, I woke up on the bathroom floor at 6 a.m. Not pretty. The last thing I remember is stepping into the garage (evidently somewhere around midnight) to watch people playing beer pong. I did make it upstairs to the comfort of my bathroom before getting sick, and K checked on me in between enjoying the rest of the party.

I kid you not, I did not feel right again until Tuesday. I have never been like that, EVER, and I've only even gotten sick from drinking a couple of times (OK, 3).

I never want another hurricane or (100-proof) Jello shot again.

Runnin', runnin' and runnin', runnin'

My little running group is going so well! We're in week 6 of the Couch-to-5k program, and these people who weren't comfortable jogging at all can now jog for 8 straight minutes! This program is great because it goes in intervals, which is a lot easier for someone just getting started. This week, we ran for 18 minutes total, but it was broken up with 3-minute walks (jog 5, walk 3, jog 8, walk 3, jog 5). Much easier mentally.

They're just 3 weeks out from running a full 5k, which is awesome. The group is loving it and is really please with themselves (as am I!) for their progress. One of the girls said on Monday, "These intervals are so much easier! Why didn't my gym teacher have us doing this? I could've been running this way instead of huffing and puffing and having to stop all those years."

I can't take credit for the training program, but I'm glad they've got the motivation to get moving. Amazing!

Staying in VA

We're officially staying in VA another year. We announced the exciting news to our kickball team at the Mardi Gras party on Saturday (just after the first Jello shot). I'm hoping the people we're renting our house from let us stay in it another year. Fingers crossed!

Job Prospect

Last week, kickball friend sent me a link to a job opening at her place of work. I think I'm about half-qualified, but she assures me I'll be just fine and an amazing applicant. I wasn't sure about applying, since making a move toward getting out of a job (no matter how frustrating the job is) is really scary. But the friend met my coworker/friend at our Mardi Gras party. Coworker knows how frustrated I am, and I guess that came up. Kickballer told her about this opportunity after I'd exited the party. Coworker brought it up with me this week and said she thinks I should apply.

That same night, I talked to Heather, who told me the same thing. "What's the harm in applying?" she asked. Touche.

So apply I did. Last night. Half-heartedly. Very scaredly.

I have no clue what I want.

That Last Sentence Isn't Entirely True

What I want is to stay at home. Sleep in my own bed. My soft, fluffy, cozy, super comfortable bed. Wash my face at my own sink. Dry off with my own towels. Lounge on my own couch, watching my own TV. Gaze out at my own back yard (which has daffodils and hyacinth in full bloom in the flowerbeds!).

But not tonight. Or tomorrow night.

We're headed to PA this afternoon to party with K's friends for St. Patty's Day.

Turns out my shiny newly aversion to Jello shots and hurricanes applies also to large quantities of beer, which are what is in the cards for this weekend.

Especially when we're driving 6+ hours to consume such large quantities of beer.

When gas is $3.45 a gallon.

When, because of conditions in PA, we'll be traveling in K's gas-guzzling SUV instead of my little coupe.

When daylight savings time is really going to make Sunday that much more brutal.

My head hurts already.

Sure, I'll lead start a running group!

There's a run coming up that my work is sponsoring. I am the lone runner in my office, and as an Official Marathon Runner, that means I'm basically an Olympian.

I believe I'm the only person in my entire department who runs. I know one lady is interested in starting, and another might go on light jogs, but I doubt any of them know what distance a 5k is. Not that a 5k is a choice in the run we're sponsoring.

Because two or three people have asked me about it so far, I sent out an email today about the upcoming run.

I volunteered to start a running group.

Most of the people in my department are in their 40s and up.

Which means I just volunteered to teach 20-something 40-somethings (OK, like 3 are in their 30s) how to run up to a half-marathon (there's a shorter distance that's a run/walk) in less than 4 months.

Yikes.

I cheated on the gym ... with running

Running a marathon made me lazy.

Seems odd, I know, but it's true.

For 18 weeks, almost everything K and I did revolved around running -- what we ate, the plans we made (and missed out on), our sleep schedules ... even what I wore to work was affected by training (heels? after running 6 miles in the morning and knowing I had to run 18 on the weekend? Puh-leaze!).

All of our energy went toward running. When we reached the peak in our training plan in late September, we quit going to the gym. As the Saturday (longest run of the week) distances increased, our Saturday plans decreased. We'd run, shower, and veg for the rest of the day.

We quit folding laundry. We quit going grocery shopping. We weren't staying on top of the housework like we usually do.

By the time we ran the marathon, we were completely out of the habit of grocery shopping and going to the gym. We didn't care to resume either activity. And then came Thanksgiving and the rush of the upcoming holidays ... K's aunt & uncle visited ... and then it was Christmas. We ran a few times in there (maybe 30 miles total), but still no gym.

Then last week, we went to the gym for the first time since September. It was awful.

The cardio warmup was fine, of course. But the pull ups we did after? Pure torture. I struggled so much doing less than what was a warmup for me just 3 pathetic months ago. I was disgusted and frustrated. How did this happen? Yeah, we hadn't been lifting weights or working our arms, but it wasn't like we were sitting around! We were training for a marathon! We were in probably the best shape of our lives. How could we lose strength at the same time?

I could see how people would get discouraged when they're beginning to work out or are getting back into it after a longer time off. It's hard to start up again! Especially when, like last week for us, you manage to find better things to do a couple other nights of the week.

This week, though, we're back in the game. We've gone the last 3 days in a row, and I'm already feeling better about myself. I've realized with a lot of exercises, I haven't lost much strength, really; it's the stabilizing muscles that I need to regain.

It'll come, and I know in a month or so, we'll be back to where we were in September.

Funny how hard you work to get to a certain point ... how easy it is to fall out of it (even if you're training for a freaking marathon) ... how hard it is to get back into it ...

... but how quickly it can feel like you're getting somewhere again.

Thank goodness!

MLIB, Marathon Runner

We ran. And ran. And ran. But we finished, and we had a pretty awesome pace.

It was painful, it was torture, and I'm pretty sure we're insane for doing it, but it's done.

We're done.

I'm never doing that again.

An additional challenge

We put off as long as we could today our last training run -- 2 miles. A nice, easy run, which we had to keep to a slow pace. We decided to bring Piper along.

One thing I haven't mentioned on here is that I have tachycardia. Having two bad knees isn't quite enough for me. Nope, I have to throw a heart condition into the mix.

We had gone just over a mile when Piper made it clear she needed to stop. K took her leash, and I leaned over to clean up. Just then, my pulse started going.

I've seen a doctor about my tachycardia before, obviously. It's nothing life-threatening, just a huge pain in the a$$. Basically, what happens is that from time to time, my pulse starts going really quickly. Like over 200 beats a minute. Sometimes it lasts a couple seconds; one time it lasted a couple hours. If an episode lasts long enough, it makes me feel tired, and it can even make my arm hurt. I have to take deep breaths. But as soon as it's done, I'm fine. Completely back to normal.

My doctor gave me the option to take beta blockers for it, but that would mean my pulse would never raise, not even during workouts, and I'd get fatigued more quickly. Something about that sounded like not living, so I chose not to take them. What that means is that if my pulse starts going, I have to immediately halt any physical activity.

My doctor knew I intended to run a marathon someday and that I was active with cycling, running, and working out at the time. "You mean to tell me that if you have an episode in the middle of a marathon, you're just going to stop running?"

"Yes."

What can be good is that these "episodes" typically come in spurts. What's bad is that I haven't had one in a while ... until today. Luckily, today's only lasted a couple minutes.

See that 237? That's my maximum heart rate during the run, thanks to my tachycardia.

If you don't mind, please keep an extra set of fingers crossed for me that if my pulse decides to mess around with me tomorrow, it waits until the afternoon.

Ready or not ...

As you know, K and I have spent the last 18 weeks training for our first (and what we intend to be our only) marathon. Our training began on July 13, at the height of summer barbecues and trips to the beach, with a modest three-mile run. We ran through high heat, early mornings, and a few times even late nights. 

These 18 weeks have affected every aspect of our lives: our sleep schedule, our meals, our water intake (we're human camels now), energy levels, sex lives, weekend schedules, activities, gym time (we haven't been in weeks!), our kitchen (we eating everything in sight, and we don't want to waste energy going to the store), and even the tidiness of our house. We ran 9 miles when we were in Oklahoma for a wedding; we ran 12 miles when we were in Pennsylvania for a birthday party.

We reached the peak of our training on October 20, when we ran 21 miles. 

Twenty-
one
miles.

We have run almost 300 miles over the course of our training. We have gone through countless bottles of Gatorade and packets of Gu (let's just say we've been buying them by the case!). We've even gone through a couple pairs of shoes. And it all comes down to Saturday. 

Our marathon begins at 8 a.m. I'm hoping we've crossed the finish line by 12:30 (if our actual start time is right at 8). No matter what, though, we'll be proud of ourselves for accomplishing this feat.

And as a heads-up, if you have stock in Gatorade and/or Gu, you might want to sell it by Saturday.

"You gotta have a goal"

Our marathon is approaching ... not quickly enough, but it's coming. And after all that training is done, we're going to have a whole lot of time on our hands. It's going to be awesome.

But somehow, in a conversation with K's aunt & uncle, who stopped by to visit as they passed through VA on a road trip, K and I decided to fill that free time with a different activity.

To celebrate completing our marathon, we're going to learn Italian together.

And then, we're going to Italy to use it.

K has family there, and I'd love to see Venice. And Florence. And Rome. But especially Venice.

Not a bad reward for running 26.2.

Hell, maybe we'll even call it a honeymoon.

One-track mind

I feel like I owe my Facebook friends an apology. My status updates are pretty often about running, or my knee, or something related to running. But as sick as they might be about reading about me running? I guarantee I'm more sick of doing the running.

I cannot wait for this marathon to come and go. (Just over a month left!)

I feel like our entire lives revolve around running, training, and training runs. It seriously affects everything: our diet, our schedules, our sleep, our weight lifting, our sex life, our weight, our house, my ass. Everything.

We have to particularly watch what we eat (and drink) on the nights before our long runs, which we typically do on Saturdays (and now that we're nearing the marathon, Wednesdays too). And we're always hungry; considering I've always been a snacker as it is, I pretty much eat all day every day.

We have to be careful how much we plan on weekends, because we have to get in a ridiculously long run at some point. We're always tired. We haven't been going to the gym as much (see previous sentence); my arms have lost a little definition (yay, sweater season).

As for the sex life, the desire is there, but the energy is not (dislike). Both K and I have noticed our weight is always fluctuating, probably due to the ridiculous water intake and then the sweating during the run. I've actually gained a few pounds through this whole ordeal, and I think K has too (it's actually common to gain weight during marathon training -- who knew?).

The house isn't as spic 'n' span as it usually is because, frankly, when we're not running, I kind of don't give a damn about cleaning. I made it around to the toilets and sinks last weekend, and K vacuumed. That's good enough for me right now, so the dust bunnies will remain.

But my ass? It's spectacular. And so are my legs. Just in time for the end of swimsuit season. Go figure, huh? And I know, K is the one who will get the most benefit out of this, and he gets to see them all the time. However, with all this time, effort, and energy, it would be nice to just parade around in a bikini on the beach and show it off. No such luck.

Now for blurbs, because it's been forever since I updated.

I'm a real runner now
(Guess I owe you guys an apology along with my FB friends ...) A week ago Saturday, K and I were 3 miles into our 16-mile training run when I realized I was going to have to make a pit stop. Then, I did something I've never done before in my life. And that milestone makes me feel like I can finally say that I'm a real runner: I shit in the woods.

Hey, when you've gotta go, you've gotta go. Thankfully, K had found himself in that situation a week or two before, so he made sure to bring toilet paper from then on. Thank goodness!

But imagine our surprise when we emerged from the woods, rounded a corner, and saw two portapotties on the side of the road. Evidently there was a fundraiser walk of sorts going on, so as we continued on our route, we continued to pass portapotties every few miles.

Oh well. The woods made me feel much more like a badass.


Work
Still here. Gonna stick with it, obviously. I've kind of learned to not let it get to me so much anymore. There's only so much I can do, right?

Actually, I have so much to do that I've been assigned a volunteer to help me. This woman has an MBA from Boston Un!versity. She has held management positions. And I am making her help me with piddly tasks I don't have time to get to.

It's nice to have the help, but I don't like being in charge of someone. It makes me uncomfortable.


Mom's visit
It went well, but I was glad when it was done. I'm a lot less patient with my mom. Things my dad or anyone else would get away with fine somehow annoy the holy hell out of me when my mom does them. And she's terrible at following directions. Terrible. At one point I experienced a little déjà vu from her failed Dallas trip to go wedding dress shopping with me (that fight resulted in us not talking for over a year). The woman drives me f*ing insane sometimes, really.

The first couple nights I was driving home, I just felt completely stressed out. Anxious. And I didn't know why. I talked to K, and he told me he wasn't surprised that way. That I was probably on eggshells because my mom was there, and he could understand that. I talked to ER. She listened to me vent for a bit when I had to make a quick trip to the grocery store.

But the times actually spent with my mom and her husband were all good.

Well, except for the part where we toured the White House. See, my mom had scheduled a tour for her and her husband, K, and me. We were supposed to get a private 2-hour tour. Only something came up that day, and they had to move our tour to the following day. K and I adjusted our out-of-office days at work, and we headed up to D.C. for the tour. What we didn't realize was that because our date got moved, we no longer had a private tour. In an effort to get two days' worth of people through the White House in one day, we'd get the standard walk-yourself-through tour. Hugest waste ever. We were done in 20 minutes.

I don't ever want to look at the White House again.

(For the record, if you're already in D.C. and plan to take the tour, it's perfectly fine. But do not travel to D.C. specifically and solely for the tour. Trust me, you'll be pissed. And your feet will hurt because you thought you were supposed to dress up, but there were punkwads touring the White House !!! in baggy jeans, flip flops, and hats.)

One lucky girl

Today is K's and my three-year wedding anniversary (from the Florida wedding, the one where we were actually legally married). Three years and a second wedding later, we still haven't had a honeymoon. We swore to ourselves that we'd finally get around to that this year, but between all the traveling for weddings, wedding showers, a baby shower, and we-haven't-seen-you-in-a-while visits, we just don't want to have to take off work again for something else. That, and sometimes it's just nice to be home for once!

We're very fortunate to feel like we have everything we want or need, so we didn't plan on even buying gifts.

So imagine my surprise today when I see an enormous bouquet of flowers coming up the stairs today. And when the bouquet was moved aside, I could see that the delivery person was K!

Of course he planned his arrival just in time for lunch. That alone was a nice treat, since we work in completely opposite directions from one another, so it's a good 40 minutes or so between my workplace and his.

Tonight is our weekly kickball game (by the way, I had an amazing catch at last week's game, AND I'm somehow the 3rd kicker in our new lineup!), which we always look forward to.

We're still going to fit in some of the sweet, romantic stuff -- we've got brunch and a couple's massage at a spa schedule for Sunday. Considering the jam-packed day we have on Saturday, which includes a 16-mile training run, Sunday's relaxation will be pure perfection.

But for tonight, we'll celebrate with a little kickball, lots of friends, and a couple beers.

That's more our style anyway.

I'll take it!

My knee has continued to suck this week. I've been icing it regularly (especially the last couple days), and I've started taking Motrin again in case that helps. I haven't gone running since Saturday. 

But still, 5 days later, I'm hobbling a bit, and I've continued to clutch the stairs when I go up or down them at home and at work.

Because of that, I decided to wear my brace at last night's kickball game. I wondered if I should even be playing. I was ridiculously nervous about my knee, and I had K do a short, slow jog with me on the field before the game, just to see how it felt. The verdict? Not very good.

It feels almost like there's something missing beneath my kneecap on the inside part of my knee. That's the best way I can explain it. And there was still a slight pain/discomfort there on some steps.

But I played anyway, even though I worried it was a bad idea.

When I went up to kick, I heard some girl on the other team say, "She's got a busted wheel. Easy out at first." I felt a fire in my eyes. I stared straight forward, determined. Afterward, I wished I'd looked at her. I'm pretty sure I'd have burned a whole straight into her face. I know she was kidding, and jokes like that can be part of the game, but I felt like it was a little below the belt. Especially since I was so concerned about it to begin with.

I kicked, and I ran toward 1st base. The ball made it there before I did.  

Damn!

And then the girl on 1st base dropped it. SAFE! (Take THAT, "Easy out" girl! Also, for the record, the girl I think made the comment never made it to 1st base. One of those attempts was killed by K, who caught her foul ball. BOOM!)

That one trip around the bases (I only got as far as 3rd base, since our kicker got the 3rd out of the inning when I was there) made my knee a little more swollen. When I realized that, I told K I was afraid I might not be able to run our half-marathon on Sunday.

When I went to bed last night, I propped my knees up on two pillows to elevate them. I've continued icing today off & on at work. It's still felt iffy, and it's totally affecting my day. Obviously I have to skip kettlebells tonight (I haven't been in forever!), :(  which doesn't help my mood either.

But then, when I climbed the stairs today after fixing my lunch, I was able to make it up almost normally. Almost.

I wasn't exactly upright (I was leaning pretty far forward for balance), but there was no clutching of the rail. The lilting steps were almost even. And I climbed them pretty quickly!!!

When I went down the steps again later, even that had improved. It wasn't quite as much as with going up the stairs, but there was still a change.

Sah-weet!

It's a minor victory, but sometimes that's all you need. Maybe (with a couple more days' rest) I'll be able to run this weekend after all!

I guess this means I'm a runner

I was able to get in to see my knee doctor last week ($1 million tip: If you find yourself talking to a mean receptionist who won't let you talk to the doc to find out if your situation even warrants an appointment -- especially when she keeps telling you they can't work you in until September -- ask for the nurses' line. That line is a godsend!). After my bouts of pain at the end of our training run that Saturday, I had had a bit of swelling and plenty of worrying about what it meant for the future of my marathon training.

The doctor took a look at things and told me that, given my history of injury, there will just be times my knee hurts. There will just be times my knee swells. And in those cases of pain, I'm supposed to stop running. I told the doctor I could do that.

I was able to ask him some questions I'd had for a while now. Like whether or not the increased cracking of my left knee on stairs is something to worry about. (No.) Or whether I might be wearing my braces wrong. (No.) And is he sure I'm not insane for running a marathon with my history of knee problems? (No. Just kidding.) The doctor told me he has lots of patients who are runners, and they're all going to run no matter what. (OK, then.) He told me to come back after my marathon and tell him how it went.

He said I'd done well by taking it easy and icing my knee. I had waited until Wednesday morning to test out a 3-mile run. I started slow and easy. I even told K not to worry about slowing his own pace to stay with me. He reluctantly ran ahead. And by our halfway point, I had totally caught up with him.

Friday, we went for a quick 2-mile run, just to loosen ourselves up for Saturday's long run. It went well.

Saturday, we ran 12 miles. We were in PA, which is definitely hillier than VA. We'd been going along for a few miles before the tinges of pain started ... but we hadn't gone as far as I'd liked. I ran through them, just to see what would happen. They only lasted for a few steps. Sometimes even just two steps. But they would come and go, and I would wince while they were there, and give quick sighs of relief when they were (temporarily) gone.

The bouts increased along with our distance. Just before we reached 12 miles, there was a pain that made me cry out, but not loudly. It wasn't the first time that I'd done that (and it was primarily out of worry), but we were close to the trail that led to our car. The next step on my left knee resulted in a similar sound.

"Stop," K said to me.

I tried to argue with him. "No, I'm fine. We're almost done --"

"Fucking stop!" he handed me the keys, and, defeated, I hobbled back to the car.

Late Saturday night and several times throughout the day yesterday, I iced my knee. I took Motrin once yesterday and today, to help with the swelling and ease the (still minor) discomfort.

All these years, I had thought my right knee was the problem (see the surgery scars?)!

As you can see, my left knee is still pretty big. And I'm hobbling still -- particularly on stairs (which I deal with at home and at work). But I clutch the wall with one hand and the rail in the other, and I deal with it.

So far it's all like last week, which makes me think it'll gradually fade like last week. Which means I'll be in great shape (all right, OK shape) for my half-marathon this weekend. One of K's best friends is a doctor, and he suggested I take Motrin before the run. Done. I'll just take it easy until then, own the run, and take it easy after.

So I guess I lied to my doctor, but it was an accident. I mean, if my knee is going to swell and hurt from time to time regardless, why not just keep running? 

At least my doctor was right about something: Those patients of his who are runners are going to run no matter what.

(Sorry, Doc.)

We never slow down

Last weekend was our last one without visitors or travels for at least a month. So what did K and I do? We packed it full of activities and decided to host our entire kickball team. That's how we roll!

Friday night, we headed to Busch Gardens, where I somehow just realized I have a healthy fear of heights (how the hell did I ever go sky diving?!). Saturday morning, we slept until 8 (whoops!) and got a late start on our 7-mile training run. Toward the end of the run, we were cruising along at an 8-min-mile pace. I wanted to pick it up even faster, but I wasn't sure how much farther we had to go, and I didn't want to burn all my energy and have to suck it up the last little leg. Suddenly, a sharp pain went shooting through my left knee cap. I told K I needed to stop. We had just hit mile 7.

We walked for a bit. I loosened my knee brace and slid it off my knee to give it a break. After a mile or so, K asked if I felt up to running the last mile to the car. Since my knee had been the only thing that stopped me, I thought maybe the walk would've ironed out some of the kinks. I pulled my brace back up, tightened it, and stepped forward with my right foot. As soon as I put weight on my left knee, I winced and stopped. The pain was still there. Yikes. Needless to say, we walked that last mile too (I'm on strict orders to not run through knee pain).

When we got home, I cleaned the house while K mowed the yard. As soon as we finished, we headed to the beach. I made a regular genius move and skipped the sunscreen, since I thought we wouldn't be out long. I had put sunscreen on my face before we left the house, so my face is fine, but my back and chest are a bit red. I'm kind of itchy today, so my back might start peeling soon. Yuck. Pretty sure I've learned my lesson.

After the beach, we had just enough time to get home and get showered before our kickball friends started coming over. We had a nice joint birthday party for me, K (his birthday is this Thursday), and another friend. It was a great party. The last guests left around 1:30 a.m.

We slept in until 11:30 yesterday morning. I could've slept longer, especially since I managed to nap a couple times on the couch. In the afternoon, we went to see Piranha 3D. I don't need to see it again, but it wasn't bad. Pretty silly. Definitely good for some laughs.

K and I ran some errands and grilled steak for dinner. We somehow managed to get ourselves to bed just before midnight when I'd wanted it to be an early night.

Now I'm supposedly back to the grind -- not that I can concentrate. My back is itching from time to time, and I'm still ridiculously tired. This hectic life of ours is hard enough without throwing marathon training in there!

Oh well ... You only live once, right?

Symptoms

• I'm tired. A lot.
• I'm hungrier than usual.
• I'm thirstier than usual.
• I have to pee all the time.
• Some mornings, my stomach is upset.
• Slight weight gain.
• Periods of increased breakouts.
• Regular thoughts about the pain and torture I'll be putting my body through in a matter of weeks.

Marathon training. Kind of sounds like something else, doesn't it?

The craziness continues ...

Geez, I said I was going to come back to this thing, but I'm determined to make a liar out of myself, I guess. K and I are in our fifth week of marathon training, and I'm shocked how much time it takes up already. Not the running, necessarily, but the extra water drinking and snacking (burning those extra calories takes a toll quickly!) ... the extra peeing ... the extra sleeping ...

We typically run in the morning, and we still try to go to the gym and lift at night. If we miss the gym, it's because we're going to a concert or hanging out with friends -- or packing to go somewhere and see somebody.

We really never stop, I swear!

We actually had a power outage last Friday morning, and we were all able to go home early. Because of that, I was finally able to take care of the house work I'd been neglecting due to all that resting.

And it looks like there's no resting this week. We have the gym tonight, a movie with friends tomorrow, packing on Wednesday, a concert on Thursday, and early Friday we're heading to OK & TX for another wedding. The one where I'm maid of honor. The one where I have to give a speech about my friend marrying a guy I don't like.

I still need to write that thing.

Geez, does it ever stop?

I ran 7 miles today; I can do whatever I want!

K and I are doing our first marathon in November. That's right. Twenty-six point one miles.

We're in our second week of training. We're doing Hal Higdon's training plan, which K found and, coincidentally, a marathoner friend of mine recommended.

Today, we ran 7 miles. Not exactly a distance we haven't run before, but a distance we haven't run in a few months. We got a later start than what we'd planned, so leaving around 8 got us out just in time to enjoy a heat index of 100 degrees. Not fun when you're running for 70 minutes (we were just aiming for a 10-minute mile).

We finished. I hated the majority of it.

What I haven't hated? The fact we went for Chick-fil-A, where I ordered the four-piece (three-piece is standard) mini chicken biscuit breakfast. I destroyed it. And then I napped for 45 minutes.

I don't feel the slightest bit guilty or lazy.

And the afternoon plans we have at the beach? They're gonna be incredible.

No matter what we do or don't do for the rest of the day, we totally earned it.

Why, yes, I am a badass

I finally had that MRI follow-up appointment yesterday. I am now the owner of TWO hardcore knee braces. They fitted me for one for my right knee too!

The doctor started the appointment by telling me that I have a minor tear in my menial meniscus on my right knee (that means it's on the outside of my knee). Evidently that's pretty uncommon -- most people who tear their meniscus tear it on the inside of their knees. When I asked what could've caused the unusual tear I have, the doctor told me I must have twisted my knee. (I've definitely done that well a couple times.) He said this damage was done some time ago.

Then, he moved the discussion to my left knee. "Have you had a serious injury on your left knee?"

"Yeah, lots of 'em." I gave him a brief rundown of my knee problem history:

In the 6th grade, I injured my right knee. I was wearing hiking boots on carpet (thank you, Jurassic Park!), went to turn, and my knee popped very loudly and gave out. The doctor couldn't figure out what happened, but they found something in my X-ray that made them think I had cancer. My parents forgot to tell me about that part until a good 5 or 6 years later.

When I was in the 9th grade, I fully dislocated my right knee. When that happened, a piece of bone chipped off and lodged in my joint. I had arthroscopic surgery to remove the bone and to repair the cartilage that was damaged. After that, I bounced back and forth on partial knee dislocations. Between the two, I've dislocated my knees a good 6 or 8 times. At least. I kind of lost count. Especially since they managed to happen in such unexciting ways, like while I was wearing my knee brace, sitting on my bed doing math homework (I KNEW math was bad for me!).

I left out the hiking-boots-on-carpet and the knee-in-brace-during-math-homework details when I talked to the doctor, but his face showed more and more disbelief as I explained my colorful knee history.

And then he told me that at some point years ago, I had fractured my left kneecap. I was shocked. I have no idea when that happened.

I instantly felt like a badass.

Luckily, it's managed to heal itself. The doc threw around the a-word ("arthritic") a couple times, but I honestly don't remember which knee he was talking about. (Heck, maybe it was both!)

K had come to the appointment with me, since after my last one, I had trouble remembering what info related to what and what terms the doctor had thrown at me. (Plus, since K was pre-med in college, he's a bit more familiar with the terms, and it's always good to have another person to ask questions and help remember everything the doctor says.) We laughed when we realized that between my bad knees and K's Army-imposed torture, we're both going to be reliant on our future children to push us around in wheelchairs!

The doctor said I'm still cleared to run, though. I just have to be sure to keep my weight down and to train properly. Not a problem (I hope). Everything's fine as is, unless I start having problems with my knees locking or buckling. That happens very rarely, so I'll just make note if and when it does (hopefully doesn't). Until then, my knees will swell from time to time, which isn't anything different, except that now I know specifically why.

The best news: I asked if I have to wear my braces on shorter runs, like 2- and 3-milers. The doctor said no! That shaves a good couple minutes off my pre-run prep time. Plus, those things get hot and uncomfortable to mess with for such a short run. (Not to mention how tough it is to get them off afterwards, since they're designed to stick to your skin to stay in place AND they get sweaty. K has to help me pull them off!) Of course, I'll wear them for longer runs, but for the short distances, it'll be so freeing to not have those on!

Avoiding the knee braces for short runs should definitely help my feelings about running. And the knowledge that I've got at least a few years before I run myself into a wheelchair is pretty comforting too.

Thank you, Thumper!

You know Thumper's famous advice: "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all"? (That's a double negative, but it's his exact quote, and you know what I mean. Also, shit! I've kind of broken the rule already.)

That's why I've been a bit silent lately. That and the fact I've been incredibly busy. We were gone all weekend (pleasant post about that later), and once we got back Sunday night, I was so busy with getting dinner ready, unpacking, and doing laundry that I didn't even get on my computer. I didn't touch it last night either.

K and I are getting into running again right now, which is turning out to be pretty unfun. It's been several weeks since I had an enjoyable run. That run was the 7-miles K and I did around our neighborhood. It's the one my knee swelled after, and the swelling only got worse after the 10-miler. Although I haven't had the swelling problem (knock on wood) since then, I've still hated every step of every single run we've done since*. My MRI is this week. Maybe after I meet with my doctor for the post-MRI followup, I'll feel better about running.

We've had a house guest the last two weeks, so that's kept me from the computer. He leaves this weekend.

But the biggest thing in my life right now is that new activity that takes up about 40 hours of my week. I'll go with Thumper on this one, too.


*Except for last Saturday, which wasn't really a run. Maybe that was the trick. But again, more on that later. :)

Pardon my French; this was a big day for me!

Our big run was on Saturday, and I'm happy to report my knees held up just fine! My shiny new knee brace was amazing, and I'm going to try to get one for my right knee too.

K and I had wanted to complete the 10K in a 10-min-mile pace. We actually managed quicker than a 9-min-mile pace! Score!

Isn't my new brace (the black one) hardcore?! 

(I'd have adjusted my running belt if I had known it would look like a fanny pack in this picture. Without that pack, this picture wouldn't have been possible.)

My MRI appointment is set for next week, so hopefully soon I'll know more about what's going on with my knees. It was a huge relief, though, to have no pain or swelling after last weekend -- especially since I was hardly following the doctor's orders of returning to running slowly and gently.

As if that's not enough, I found out in our kickball newsletter today that I was named co-MVP of last week's game.

I'm on a roll, bitches!

Ready to run

When I was little, like a lot of kids do, I thought about what I wanted to be when I grew up. Also like a lot of kids do, I changed my mind a lot. Actress. Singer. Lawyer. Teacher. Fashion designer. Helper. Writer.

I went back and forth on potential careers, but the one thing I didn't change my mind on was that I wanted to be tall when I grew up.

Sometime in 6th or 7th grade -- probably about the time I first really understood height measurements -- I decided I wanted to be 5'9" or 5'10". Just tall enough to not have to ask for help with items on the top shelf. I wasn't one of the tall kids in the class. My dad was right at 6', but my mom was 5'4". Who knew where I was going to wind up.

Then, in the summer between 8th and 9th grade, my body decided to grow very quickly. I started passing a lot of my friends. I got tall enough that when people asked me, "Have you gotten taller since the last time I saw you?", I could honestly say to them, "I hope not!"

I stopped growing somewhere between 5'9" and 5'10" -- right smack where I wanted to be.

But while my body was doing all that stretching vertically, it forgot to tell my knees to keep up.

So that summer, I had my first big knee injury. I had surgery. I got crutches and a brace. And then I hurt my other knee. I got a brace for it. Over the next few years, I went back and forth between dislocating my right knee and my left knee. My doctor gave me exercises I'd have to do for the rest of my life, and he told me I couldn't participate in any sports for the next 4 years. I didn't get "athletic" until after college, so at 15, that news wasn't a big deal.

When I did start running 10 years later, I ran with braces on both knees. Thankfully, random buckling incidents had died off. I still worried about my knees in certain activities, but at least they were more reliable now.

Then K and I ran the 10-Miler 2 weeks ago. We had done a training run several days before, and my left knee was swollen for a few days after. The 10-Miler left it even more swollen for a few days longer. I saw a doctor about it. They did x-rays, and when I went in for the follow-up, they took more x-rays.

I was scared they'd tell me I couldn't run anymore. Funny how all these mornings the snooze button has won out over going for a run, yet the moment it seems that option could be taken away, it seems devastating.

Thank goodness, the doctor told me I could keep running. Evidently my problem stems from the fact that my kneecaps point  to the outside of my leg rather than being center-aligned. The doctor says this is something that happened years ago when I was growing, and nothing I've done has caused it. I'm cleared to keep running, but I have new exercises to do. He also fitted me for a wicked-looking brace that came with a DVD. I was OK with that.

Then yesterday, the doctor called me again. He wants me to go back for an MRI. I guess one of the other things that's wrong with my knee(s?) made him want to get a better look.

I'm supposed to run a 10K tomorrow. Thanks to all this swelling/knee problem business, I haven't run since the 10-Miler. And since the doctor has said things to me like, "I bet your knees hurt when you have to sit for a long time, like at the movies. Here's why," I've become aware of the tinges of pain I've ignored. Like when I'm sitting on the floor hugging my knees. Or climbing stairs.

I've started babying my knees, worrying that certain movements can further damage whatever is already wrong with them. Like the constant squats in my favorite kettlebell class.

I don't like this change. I'm ready to get the stupid MRIs, have the follow-up appointment with my doctor, and know how I can go on about my life without worrying about the damage I may be inflicting upon my knees. I kind of need those things.