At the risk of being repetitive...

...OUCH. Still.

When will it not hurt to stand, sit, walk, flush (I have a public restroom phobia and must flush with a foot)??

OUCH!

The Half Mary From Hell

I ran the entire thing - all 13.1 miles. That was goal no. 1.

I bested the two gals I trained with by 20 minutes. That was goal no. 2.

I did not, however, reach goal no. 3, which was to finish in under 2 hours. My time was 2:05. Five lousy minutes. FIVE! Those 5 lousy minutes were all lost in mile 11 when I was forced to run up the Atlanta hills from hell.

But I did it. And it hurt. And it still hurts. Thank god for ibuprofen...

I'm Not A Loser

Today's 5K promsed to be a shitty race: it was a hilly course and it was less than 50 degrees and fairly windy. AND I was representing my employers.

And yet I won 3rd place in my age group. Cute plaque and a not-so cute picture of me holding it backwards.

And just like that, this will go down as a good day.

BOO!

I'm ashamed at how I've let my blog go....

...but my extra time has been filled. Filled with running (I'm training for a half marathon in November) and filled with photography. I've been trying to market myself and my photography such that within the next year I can quit what I currently do (and HATE) and do what I love...my dream job...to be a full-time photographer.

Sigh.

But I'm still around and still fine.

I've run 5-6 5Ks and 1 10K. I'm running my "long run" each week with two women I've teamed up with for the half mary. We usually take those runs on Wednesdays. 10 miles. Ouch. Yesterday after work was our run. Through and around downtown. Ouch.

Mini - we need to connect privately so I can share my new website with you. Must retain my anonymity here, however. Thanks for poking me....

Oh! I never posted results of that 10k! I finished in under an hour AND well ahead of the woman I was running with. Those were my two goals, and I met them. I was a happy and sore camper...

Butterflies - in my butt ?

Now that I've got your attention, let me explain.

I have performance anxiety. Stage fright. Always have. I started ballet at the ripe old age of 3, complete with at least one "recital" yearly which included several dances performed on stage, in front of people. Before each one I got ill. Even when I was a semi pro dancer in a ballet company I would become ill before EVERY performance. You'd think that after performing on stage in the neighborhood of 100 times I would get over it.... Yes, you'd think.

In the 9th grade I was on the track team. Guess where I was before every meet. Yep, in the bathroom.

Just as others complain of having butterflies (in their tummies), I too get butterflies, but MY butterflies are aflutter in my butt! I don't know why. I can't explain the sensation any other way, but when the butterflies are flyin' I have to potty.

Not sure why I divulged all that, except to say that I'm nervous as shit (pun intended here) about my 10k on saturday. Not for fear of not finishing. Of course I'll finish. Not for fear of finishing last. Of course I won't finish last. Why, then? Hell if I know. Fear of not performing up to my expectations, I would imagine.

Anyway, I'm as ready as I can be at this moment. Did a short (3 mile) run today at lunch and the next two days are OFF days.

Thanks for thinking of me, Mini. I was thinking of you earlier as I read this and wanted to share....

http://lifestyle.msn.com/relationships/articleoprah.aspx?cp-documentid=10274156>1=32023

I've been remiss....

I haven't posted in eons it seems.

I'm here. I'm well. I'm running.

It's taken me so long to climb back up the running ladder. I've had to go so slowly and carefully. But I'm back. I'm really back. I'm finally up to 5-6 miles now and trying to work on speed. For now my speed really sucks, but at least the endurance is up. I'm only up to 9 minute miles right now.*[edited - I'm a dumbass and put 9 miles/hr]* But that will change. I will get there.

I have a 10k on September 20 and a half marathon on November 16. I'm scared. I'm way too competitive to race. What will happen is this: I'll get out there and finish with no problem, but because my speed isn't even REMOTELY competitive yet I will not finish as close to the front of the pack as I'd like and then I'll beat myself up about it. Yep, that's how it will go....

In other news: Today is my 5 year anniversary at work. Oh joy.

But the anniversary comes with an annual review (always stellar), which comes with a bonus, which I will use to buy new glass for my camera. And THAT rocks.

Truckin'

New goal: half mary 11/16/08.

I'm still being consistent with my new schedule: t, th, sa, su - run; m, w, f - weight training and elliptical.

I feel better. Stronger.

My wings are New Balance 1223s. They rock. Running is much less painful for me now.

Gosh, I almost forgot the most exciting part for me - I've lost weight. It seems to just be melting away slowly but surely, unlike before when I ran every day. Makes no damn sense, but whatever....

New wings

I've been very good at sticking to my exercise schedule: Running T, Th, Sa; weights and elliptical on M, W, F. On Sunday anything goes.

I went through a very interesting fitting for new running shoes. I first stood on a platform which measured balance and arch. Yep, still flat-footed, but I'm perfectly balanced (in stance only, I can assure you). Next I was given a pair of shoes and instructed to hit the treadmill, where I would be filmed running so that my gait and foot strike could be evaluated.

I was mortified at having to run in front of what felt like a billion eyes. I felt my face burning as I had to return to the treadmill again and again to evaluate the different shoes the salesperson brought me. God, do I always run so LOUDly?

But the result was a stellar set of wings. Of course, I paid dearly for the shoes, but if they can help me avoid injury they are worth it. Now, if only someone could come up with shoes that could melt fat asses....

sigh.

It's An Uphill Battle

2 miles today. That's it. 3.2 yesterday.

3 months ago I was running 4-6 miles in my sleep. How quickly things can change!

I'm not in as bad shape as when I first began running, but it's close to starting over for me. Uphill. Both ways.

(and then you die).

A moving experience

I am loving this time off! It's amazing what one extra day can do for my mood, stamina, creativity...

Aside from hiking for 4 miles yesterday, hubby and I also moved several huge pieces of furniture out of the young lady's room (she's at a friend's lakehouse).

Her room is way too small for all the big furniture we had in there and it was my furniture as a child. It was decided (by she and I) that all but a bed and a small bookcase would be removed, to be replaced with more modern, grown up and smaller pieces, i.e. 2 "comfy" chairs and 2 storage ottomans facing the small wall which will house a small flat screen tv (after the first set of grades come in, that is).

Funny how I just glossed over "moving huge pieces of furniture" like that. Actually, we were unable to get the moving truck which our storage facility loans out for free to clients - the damn thing was booked up solid for a week! So we had to move the pieces of furniture (did I mention HUGE?) down a flight of stairs, out the front door, into the back of hubby's SUV (one at a time due to size), to the storage facility, unload, trudge down the huge halls to our storage room, unload, then back again. 4 trips. That doesn't include all the work in her closet. OMFG that girl had some stuff stuffed in that closet......

But it's done. I cried more than once as I went through the visual and physical process of saying goodbye not only to my childhood (all that furniture was mine, remember), but to hers. I had to officially say hello to young lady/woman. Not easy at all.

We're now working on closet solutions for her. I NEVER want to go through what I went through in that closet of hers!

I'm running again.

I'm running again.

It's funny how one's reason(s) for running can change. Before "the boot" I was running from age, from fat, toward health. Now I'm running simply because I can.

I have learned from this injury. No longer will I combine increased mileage with increased speed. While my head, heart and lungs might tell me I can do it, I now know that my body was telling me I couldn't, but I didn't listen.

I tend to be a tad stubborn.

So now I run 2 days, rest 1, run 2, rest 1, etc. And they're easy runs, no real speed involved. It's all about rebuilding my stamina at this point. It's hard. My head (damn, that brain of mine!) tells me to run, run, run. "Run everyday," it says, "or you'll never get back in shape or as trim as you'd like." Ahhh, shaddap and help me figure out the meaning of life...

Anywho...while injured and unable to run, I threw myself into my photography. My wonderful and kind hubby stuck his neck out and bought me the Canon DSLR I had been coveting for a while. (Now if I could only get the choice glass I want...)

Giving it away

I gave away my Peachtree Road Race number this morning - with the promise that I'd receive "my" tee shirt.

An attorney in my firm asked if anyone had one that wouldn't be used (for his son). Based on the fact that I can no longer run the required 10k because I'm so damned out of shape from the stupid ankle...sorry, I almost went on a tangent. Deep breath. As I was saying, based on the fact that I am no longer able to run the 10k, I decided to just let go and look toward next year's big one.

Mini - I had so hoped to meet you there, but since I never heard back from you about that I guess it doesn't much matter. Good luck to you in the race... [update] Mini - I read your blog and saw why I heard nothing. My heart goes out to you.

Guess Where I've Been....

It was a GLORIOUS trip to the UK, and I crammed so much into it. We had 5 days total, including the trip there and back (The 8-hour plane trip both ways sucked). Hubby had to go on business, so I tagged along. I even did some sightseeing alone, in another country - something I have never done, and am usually unlikely to do...

We landed in London, did some sightseeing, hopped a train to Bristol, did Bath (The City of Bath), Stonehenge, back to London and more sightseeing there.....

Good news: I've started running a week early (Shhhh!). So far I've run twice. The first time I stopped after 1.10 miles; the second time after 2.0 miles. I've scheduled myself a run this afternoon after work. I have not run two days consecutively and promised the doc I wouldn't.

It was so hard to stop when my mind and body was begging me to go, go, go, go! But I was a bit afraid. The broken ankle hurt pretty badly and I really don't want to go through anything like that again.

(Have I mentioned how badly I'll suck in the 10k coming up? With no preparation other than these short runs for THREE MONTHS... ugh)

The good, the bad and the ugly

Good:
It's good to be back.

It's good to wear SHOES again.

It's good to walk again.

Bad:
It's bad that I still can't run; 2 more weeks before I can run - and then I can only run 1-2 miles at a time. My running can re-commence one week before the Peachtree Road Race, the 10k I had been working toward for so long. Sad. Very sad.

Ugly:
I will now suck so much worse than I ever imagined in this race.

Such is life.

I started back on the elliptical Monday. That's all I can really do for now.

T-minus 2....

Thursday is the day I get rid of the blasted cast. It's all I can think about.

First thing Friday afternoon I'll go to P'tree Running Co. to be fitted for a brand spankin' new pair of running shoes. My body is raring to go, and it will be so hard to hold back. Orthopaedic doc says I can return to running after Thursday at 10% per week of my total mileage. Basically I can run .5 mile/day every day for a week (or was it a month?), with 10% increases per week (or month). The week/month part is fuzzy, but he assured me at our last appointment that he'd have a "return to running" program ready for me when I get there Thursday.

I missed my second paid-for 5k on Saturday. It was upsetting. Depressing.

I CAN'T WAIT TO RUN AGAIN. The lack of stress reduction is killing me.

T-minus 7 days...

...and counting.

In 7 days I see my doctor, who promised by that date this blasted ankle will be deemed healed and in no further need of the ankle cast. Yes, I did graduate - er - get demoted - to an ankle air cast from "the boot," which has been quite a change and a relief, but having to wear any cast at all is a major drag.

Heal thyself, oh great ankle, so that I may adorn thee with fine and wondrous shoes...AND SO I CAN RUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

I miss my blog, but I've been so buried at work that I've had no chance - and I can't blog at home because this blog is a secret from everyone I know.

Soon I shall return in full bloom. Don't forget about me, my blog friends!

The Boot, and The Boot, Jr.

So this morning was the big day, the day I've dreamed of since I GOT the boot. It was to be a magical day in which the doctor told me I could boot the boot.

Boy, was I disappointed!

The good news is that xrays showed that the fracture is healing nicely. Doc says it's likely at 75-80% now. The bad news is that I have to wear this huge boot for 2 more weeks. I was given a Boot, Jr. too. When I get home I'm to take off Boot, Sr. and put on Boot, Jr., which purportedly allows more weight bearing on the ankle and more movement to help slowly prepare the ankle for walking. (It's an air cast too, only much smaller, rising just above the ankle). That's for one week starting today.

He also told me to wear Boot, Jr. to bed! WTF? He said in case I need to get up in the middle of the night...

For week 2 I'm to wear Boot, Sr. for the first half of the day and Boot, Jr. the second half of the day (after lunch).

I meet with the doctor again at week 3 - May 29. At that follow up, assuming all has healed as he expects, he will give me a running plan to slowly start running again. He says I will begin at 10% of my "usual mileage" per week when I start. So since I was running 30-35 miles per week on average I'm allowed to run only 3-3.5 miles the first week, with 10% increases each week until I'm back.

Sigh.

And the ball? I mentioned Saturday's black tie event and he blinked hard. I'm sure he could tell that I was NOT going to wear the boot, not Boot Sr. nor Boot, Jr. He said that if I did no dancing and very little standing that I could possibly get away with no boot. He also cautioned me that one wrong move could send me right back to the beginning of the injury....

What to do, what to do....

I'll be fretting over that for the next day. In the end, I'll stupidly and stubbornly forego the boot for those 4 hours or so of the ball - all in the name of vanity.

Stand up

JERRY SEINFELD WAS AWESOME! Well worth the expense of the tickets and the headache and embarrassment involved with getting someone to watch man cub.

His TV personality must be his actual personality, for he was EXACTLY as he is/was on TV. A very funny man.

I loved his humor at the show, mostly because it related to all of us who are or have been married and have kids.

*********************
Here's where my head is today:

3 more days till I see doc. I am just positive that he will give me the go-ahead to boot the boot. Pleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease. (If I say it enough it's sure to happen.)

I'm considering cancelling make-up artist. I'm not sure I can justify the $50 or $60 it will cost. And I apply my own makeup every single day. And I can apply my own makeup on that day too. Right? What does the mass say?

Only 18.5 days of school to go for kids. This is always a bittersweet time for me. Just as school ends, their "summer visitation" with their dad begins. At least 6 weeks. On the one hand, it's like a 6 week honeymoon with my husband. I'm not "on" 24/7. I can eat late at night, I can eat crap, I can eat nothing. We can watch adult movies late at night - loud - and not worry about waking kids. We can go out. We can stay in. We can have sex on the couch. Or in the kitchen. Or whatever. Whenever. But my heart aches for my children when they are not with me....

Woman child goes to Spain for 10 days a week or so after her brother leaves to visit their Dad. As soon as she gets back from that trip she'll be joining her brother. This will be a very interesting summer for them.

Their dad is expecting a baby in August. The fact that his wife is a step-monster to my children (mean, hateful, jealous) and the fact that his wife's daughter is a whiney brat are only side issues to what this means. I don't pray, but upon learning that a baby was coming I prayed that it would be a girl. My mature teenager can handle either, but I felt strongly that for my man cub it would be excruciatingly painful to him that his dad will eventually be coaching the boy in baseball, maybe taking him to cubscouts..all the things his dad has missed in HIS life. Unfortunately, we learned recently that it is indeed to be a boy. I cried.

I would welcome any amount of pain, physical or emotional, to prevent any pain in my children.

Wax on, wax off

Joan, you're absolutely right! I called up the salon and changed the waxing appointments to Friday - the day BEFORE the important day.

:-)

Let's hope there are no problems that carry over to the next day!

Booterella

Jerry Seinfeld is to be performing here this weekend (Friday), and husband and I will be attending the first show of the night. I'm excited. I've never seen Seinfeld live, and I lived for his sitcom. I'm even more excited to be getting OUT of the house and doing something fun/interesting/different with husband.

One more week till xrays and doc - May 8. I'm ready. I'm more than ready. With each passing day I grow more and more weary of the boot. I want so badly to walk normally. With shoes. And to run - oh, how I miss running. I see runners every day and feel jealousy and frustration welling higher with each one I pass. I want to run. I'm DYING to run. It's been exactly three weeks and three days since I last ran. Had I known those 5 miles would be my last for a month or more I would have enjoyed the run more...savored it more...ahh, but the last mile was too painful to savor. It was an internal fight to continue running with the pain. A stupid fight, which I lost and which I'm still paying for.

I know better now.

Until the day I am given the "all clear" to walk without the boot, to speed walk in my neighborhood, to slowly work up to running again, I have only the ball to look forward to. The ball is May 10. I'm now awaiting a return call from the salon to set up my brow wax, lip wax, haircut and style for the morning of. The same salon in which I waited patiently for woman-child to be beautified for three hours before HER ball. Now it's my turn. I'm considering "make up application" as well, though it's a hefty price tag of $50 for something I do by myself every day. I dunno.

I'm the natural type who will gladly wear more makeup at night for special occasions, but I never took the time to learn such eye makeup tricks as "smokey eye," for example. Might be fun. Might look great. But what if it doesn't? My fear is that I'll end up looking like (1) a clown; (2) a "fi dollah ho;" or (3) a stranger.

Incidently, I've never had a wax - eyebrow, lip, leg, nuttin. I'm nervous. Not sure why I'm doing this, but I feel the need to be as close to perfect as my aging, imperfect, quickly-getting-out-of-shape self can be for this.....I wanna be Cinderella for the night.

Thoughts? Comments? Laughter? It's all welcome here.

Black Tie

May 10 is a black tie ball I am attending with husband. I haven't been to a black tie event in AGES so I'm pretty excited.

Husband and I went shopping to pick out my dress and shoes and his tux (I know it's different, but my husband actually enjoys shopping with me). I tried on about 10 gowns, and both of us had one favorite - the same one, actually - a long black Calvin Klein halter. I LOVE it. It suits me perfectly - no "fru fru," no frills - just an elegant black dress. Calvin Klein is one of my favorite designers because of this. And husband actually saw the perfect shoes before I did (black snakeskin heels). I could try on only one shoe, of course. That was pretty amusing.

I'm scheduled for follow up xrays and check up on the ankle on May 8 - that's 2 days before the big event. I hate to tell my dr. this, but there is NO WAY IN HELL that I'm wearing this boot to that black tie event!!

What in the effffffff?

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First of all, just the NAME of this product is frightening, "ColoTrim."

Second of all, how the heck does this work? Is it a superduper laxative that makes you poop out 25 pounds (but who has 25 lbs of poop in 'em anyway?) ? Has anyone here tried any of this, and if so (1) wtf is it; (2) how does it work; and (3) did it work for you?

*********
Yesterday the boss informed me that he supposed he was from the branch of his family that was decended from "a horny old man" who had possibly fathered children well into his 70s. I hate to repeat myself, but WHAT IN THE EFFFFFFFFFFFF???

Another thing I hate is playing dumb. I am sick to death of pretending I don't get his innuendos or COMPLETELY inappropriate topics of discussion or comments.

To explain how the subject even came about would take a great deal of explaining, but it started with a comment from me about DNA testing to determine paternity for girls/women, after which he argued against my statement, citing some half information regarding the X chromosome and Y chromosomes and stating definitively (because he knows everything) that paternity can only be traced on the male side. I calmly refuted his statement and forwarded him numerous cases in which paternity had indeed been determined regarding father/daughter relationship. The main case I cited was that of Anna Nicole Smith's motherless baby. From there the conversation took a convoluted turn. He was driving the conversation at that point and I was merely an innocent passenger praying for the ride to end quickly and safely.

[incidently, he was forced to admit defeat in that argument. no small feat for a woman up against mr. all-powerful and all-knowing attorney]

Had to share these adorable shoes. Found them the other day at DSW - as close to flip flops as I can get for work and to deal with gimp leg. I must add quickly that DSW is WOW! I walked in and saw tons and tons of really awesome shoes. I started to sweat and breathe hard. I went for one pair of shoes for daughter's ball and left with 3 pairs of shoes for ME and two pairs for her, including the dress shoes as planned. Tsk Tsk Tsk.


Daughter's black tie ball was yesterday. As part of the preparation she and I spent about 3 hours at the hair salon beginning at 10:00 a.m. By 1:00 I was so sick of that place I could puke.

But her hair and brows were perfect.

I saved money and did her nails myself.

Her date (driven by his parents, of course) arrived to pick her up, holding her corsage. It was awfully cute and sweet, but the reality of seeing my little girl so grown up was overwhelming. How does it happen so quickly?

In other news I had my second physical therapy appointment this morning. I've been very cooperative and compliant and have faithfully performed all exercises. Unfortunately I had to admit to her that I had simply forgotten that I'm supposed to ice both knees every day for 6 minutes. I guess if they aren't swollen and painful I don't think about ice ?? Anyway she added two more exercises and taped my knees like she did last week. It's quite an interesting feeling having your kneecaps physically moved from their usual resting place and held in a new place with tape.

Veddy inteddesting indeed.

I'm really really starting to get sick of this stupid air cast now. I'm sick of being slow and cumbersome. I'm sick of being crooked - whether or not I wear shoes; the height of the boot is impossible to match perfectly, leaving me no choice but to walk as though I have a serious physical disability whereby one leg is shorter than the other. What if this affects my natural gait or my hips or my back or or or... And I can't exercise! I'm scared shitless of gaining weight because my physical activity has had to screech to a halt. I'm actually dieting, which I've really never done (other than some diet modifications this year when I began to watch my sodium intake). I'm hating this. I'm really hating this.

DIET = "DIE" + "T"

Forgot to mention....

....that I did in fact wear the boot last night.

I'm such a good girl!

A trip down memory lane

I had a wonderful time with my old friend. We chatted and laughed and drank and reminisced until 10:30 (6 hours)!

He really stroked my ego as well. First he told me that I "look exactly the same," and that 12 years of aging did not show (he really hadn't changed a bit either). Later he admitted that he knew about his layover in Atlanta months ago and had in fact ARRANGED it because he had wanted to see me. He said he didn't tell me about it long ago because he didn't want me to feel any "pressure" and felt that waiting until the last minute to let me know he would be here would be easier for me.

I felt very flattered. I had been so nervous about seeing him again, so worried that the effects of 12 years of aging would change his view of me.

It was so strange sitting with him and talking with him after so many years had passed. We both distinctly remembered when we first met. It was our senior year in high school. I was 16. He was 17 and was one of our foreign exchange students for that year. 22 years vanished as we talked and I felt 16 again.

Over the years we have managed to reconnect many times. Every year or two one or the other of us emails the other to say hello and try to catch up, though we haven't actually seen each other in 12 years. "We have a connection," he said, which of course I understand and feel as well. I'm not sure what the connection is or what it means, but it is there nonetheless. It's always been there and always will be.

He never married and has no children. He has just turned 40 and is a founding partner in a successful law firm in Belgium.

I am 38, with two children and I'm 4 years into a happy marriage after a miserable few years of marriage in my past. He knows this and understands that I am committed to my husband for as long as we both shall live. But far in the future when we are both old and gray, if we are both alone in life, he believes that we will be together.

Only time will tell.

Until that time, I am happy to be married to my husband. I adore him and would never leave him or hurt him.

The great Oz has spoken

Okay, the great physical therapist has spoken...

"Chondromalacia patella a/k/a Patellofemoral Syndrome."

Got the exercises prescription (there are lots!) and some stretches to do as well - all to be done several times a day at 10 reps each. Also got my knees taped such that both kneecaps are physically moved toward my inner thighs with a very strong tape. It feels odd to be sure, but I feel no pain with knee movements that used to really hurt. Also, and maybe I'm just imagining this part, I feel a cooling sensation beneath the kneecaps when my knees are bent, as though there is maybe an increase in circulation there??

The P.T. was quite nice and helpful and it took her all of 3 minutes to figure out the problem. She believes that my flat feet and horrible pronation have intensified the knee problems and also gave me a list of the type/brand of shoes to get (when I am able to run again).

I'm to see her once per week; next appointment is Monday morning. The orthopaedist actually prescribed twice weekly, but I promised to work hard and diligently on my exercises and she agreed to try me at once weekly.

So yeehaw. I can get the knees squared away.

Now if only the ankle would heal quickly.....

And now to the matter at hand - meeting up with the European ex-boyfriend-turned-attorney. 4:30. I'm nervous AS HELL. I've had butterflies all day long. I started working on my hair last night, though, and it's perfect. I took special pains on the makeup this morning (and brought extra with me), and I'm wearing a nice black pantsuit with "the boot" over the pant leg. Whether or not I'm going to leave the boot on is yet to be determined. I did bring the matching shoe, just in case. My main concern is that I'll be drinking. Likely a good bit. I'm picturing me rushing to the restroom at the place, wearing the heels without the boot, tipsy, and twisting the ankle and possibly making it worse. Sigh.

I need a chill pill.

Can I give the boot the boot for a few hours?

The camping trip was pretty fun. There were approximately 50 people there. It only rained for about an hour on Friday night and I had to resort to covering "the boot" with a huge black garbage bag that was oh, so cute and made such a neat sound with each step.

Saturday morning was spent hiking around the Foxfire Museum, which features a ton of southern appalachian log buildings, most of which had been moved to that area for preservation purposes. It was pretty neat. Hiking was a challenge, but I made it work and took tons of photos.

By Saturday night the woman-child had finally resolved to having a good time and decided to round up all 30-40 boys for games of capture the flag and other such intrigue. She was pissed when I made her go to bed at 10-ish.

I didn't get much sleep either night. The man in the tent to our left snored so loud it sounded like he was sawing a giant sequoia; the man in MY tent snored as loud as he usually does, and the effing whippoorwill in the trees above us tormented me until the sunrise, "whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will" all freaking night. And Saturday night proved to be downright freezing. I'm not sure what the temperature dropped to, but it felt like 30s weather. It's really not fun to camp in weather that cold.

In other news, I received an email this morning from a very old flame (c. 1986-1987 senior year high school), with whom I have kept in touch over the years. He was our foreign exchange student, hailing from Belgium. We reconnected when I was in graduate school and my baby girl was a mere toddler and have kept tabs on each other via his "american host family," who just happen to be my parents' best friends (and with whom he has remained extremely close to for the last 21 years since he lived with them). Now that he's all grown up he is an attorney (still in Belgium), and actually founded his own firm several years ago. His email said he is enroute to visit [the host family], and will be stopping over in Atlanta for a day and wanted to meet up. I agreed to meet him for drinks after work tomorrow and via email worked out where that would be (next door to my work and 1 mile from his hotel).

I haven't seen him in about 12 years, so I'm a tad nervous, though looking forward to it. Of course I'll be working on what to wear tomorrow and I'll work hard on my hair tonight and my makeup in the early morning. The last item to work on will be shoe(s). I'm thinking of removing "the boot" just before meeting him so that I won't look so ridiculous, although I have already warned him of the monstrocity.

Is it crazy/stupid to attempt the meeting (and drinking) without the boot? I know I can move very carefully without the boot, and most importantly I need to make a good impression after all these years.....

Given The Boot

Yessiree isn't this a dandy?

Mary, who wondered how/why and said it seemed sudden... It was sudden! I felt a twinge on Monday during mile 4. No problems or twinges before Monday on that ankle in that area that I can recall. Surely I would have felt something if it had been there....Anyway, running through it was not the best idea I've had, though the twinge was notice that the fracture was there already - my running through it only worsened it, so NOT having run through it wouldn't have prevented it. (I'm great at rationalizing!)

Hell, I dunno. I'm so used to ignoring pain (ballet, aerobics, martial arts) that I wouldn't remember even if I had felt something before unless it was a huge pain - like my knees.

I definitely recall the knee pain and swelling, and the decreased range of motion is constant. Hopefully after Wednesday's appointment with a P.T., though, that will work itself out in time - and if the knee problems are solved at about the same time as the ankle then I should be much better for the wear!

(I'm trying to look at it as "the boot is half full" rather than "the boot is half empty)."

It was likely caused by increased speed and mileage (both things I had been working diligently on), a/k/a "too much too soon." yaddah yaddah.

But truthfully, I am nothing but devastated. I feel that this is such a tremendous setback to what I had been working so hard for and toward.

On a lighter note - we're off for a weekend campout a la cubscouts in the Georgia mountains. Rain is forecasted for the weekend and the boot should prove to be a huge pain in the ass, but I'll tie a garbage bag around it and trek on, baybee.

Oh, and ask me how excited my 14-yr-old daughter is to be going "with a bunch of 8 year old boys on a stupid cubscout campout," as she put it....

The Doctor is in

"A stress fracture," he tells me.

Holy SHIT!

I'm confined to a BOOT for 4-6 weeks. This lovely "boot" is black, the size of an elephant, and reaches my knee. Nice. Very Nice. At least black goes with everything, right? Follow up X-rays scheduled for 4 weeks to check progress of healing. Until then, NO RUNNING. NO ELLIPTICAL. My choices for cardio: recumbent bike or swimming.

It was all I could do to keep from bawling in his office. Tears welled up and I had to blink hard to keep them from spilling down my cheeks.

AND

Physical therapy for my knees. The decrease in range of motion is caused by too-tight quadriceps, he thinks, due mostly to muscle memory from the 14 years of ballet. Yep I'm just batting 1000 right now.

The good news: My doc is a triathlete and I know I'm in good and empathetic hands...

Otherwise, though, I am absolutely devastated. Heartbroken. My 4/27 5K is off. My 5/24 5k is off. He thinks I might be able to get back into shape in time for the 7/4 Peachtree Road Race (10k).

Asinine Ankle

What did I do to cause the ankle problem?

Good effing question.

There I was running on the treadmill (Monday), doing well with speed intervals, just beginning mile 4. Monday was to be a longer run since I had taken both weekend days as rest days (with the knowledge that this was to be a hard work week with running); I had planned on 5-6 miles at lunch. Just as mile 4 began, I noticed a twinge on the outer part of my left ankle. Of course I kept running. The twinge quickly got worse. I hadn't twisted my ankle in any way nor rolled over on it. As far as I know or recall (or remember thinking at the time) I hadn't even stepped on it wrong or funny. But the pain kept growing. "I have to run through it," I told myself. "I have to at LEAST hit 5 miles and then I can stop."

As the treadmill read 4.80 miles I absolutely positively HAD to stop. The pain was unbearable, and by that point I was favoring the ankle so much that I was hardly running anymore and putting my knees at risk. As I got off the treadmill I knew something was very wrong - I could hardly walk.

I put ice on it immediately upon returning to my desk and kept the ice up throughout the day and night Monday. I took ibuprofen religiously.

No swelling or bruising Monday.

Yesterday I came to work with it wrapped. I could put weight on it, but not bend it while walking. Bending the ankle without pressure or weight (in other words, while not standing on it) was doable, so I knew it wasn't broken. Only a minute amount of swelling was visible just around the outer ankle bone and still no bruising. I again prayed to the ibuprofen god, asking for relief from pain and the ability to walk.

As I stepped out of bed I knew that today would be no different than yesterday. I'm sporting the adorable Ace bandage and I'm wearing flip flops with my business clothes. There is still no visible bruising and still only a teeny tiny bit of swelling around the ankle bone. It's not a bit better. In fact, it feels worse. If I step "wrong" or in some way put pressure on that foot in the wrong way, the pain becomes a "bringmetomyknees" kind of pain.

And let me just say that I'm no sissy when it comes to pain. I'm tough. I went through labor and childbirth without so much as an ASPIRIN! When I get sick or hurt I "tough it out" and get better on my own. Hell, I've danced an entire performance in pointe shoes with a broken toe and smiled through my tears! But I can't walk, and I CERTAINLY can't run. And because this is day 3 of no running I am beginning to panic. I can't let all my hard work and patience and effort and pain and, and, and.....I can't let all that go.

And so I broke down and make an appointment with an orthopaedist for tomorrow morning (that was the earliest available appointment). I simply MUST get better - and SOON.

A Sprained Ankle

How do ya like that?

Perfect. Juuuuuust perfect.

EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!

I forgot to mention this.....

My baby turned 14 yesterday!!

Why does time have to zoom by? Just when I think I can stop to take a breath I realize another year has passed...

FALLING TO PIECES

I feel so discouraged.

There I was, trucking right along, 4 miles were behind me and I had intended on hitting at least 5. Suddenly, the left side of my left ankle began to hurt. Of course I kept running. Just run through it, I kept telling myself. Just run through it. But that ankle kept right on hurting. By the time I hit 5 miles I HAD to stop, for I could no longer run.

I have no idea what I did to the damned ankle.

I hobbled to the shower and while getting dressed and have since returned to my desk. Now I can barely walk. It's not very swollen at the moment, but it hurts like hell if I try to walk at all. I'm using a Zip-Loc baggie (from my lunch) as an ice pack, which I put on the ankle intermittently. Not sure how long to do this, or even if it will help. I also popped 3 ibuprofen.

What is happening to me???????? Is my body going to completely fall apart? This is depressing and discouraging. As soon as one problem improves (knees) another starts up (ankle). I don't know what to do....But if I'm unable to run I'll just die.

I know I whined on Wednesday (my Wednesday Whine posting), but I really must whine once more.

First thing at work this morning, I leave my desk to use the bathroom. (I know, t.m.i., but bear with me). Boss has been out since yesterday morning and wasn't to be in at all today. So there I am using the restroom and my cell phone (in my pocket) begins to ring. Of course I'm not going to talk on my cell phone on the toilet, but I did casually glance at who was calling, to find that the call was coming from the building. Now, we have a paging service, whereby if someone needs you and you aren't at your desk, they can call the reception desk and have you paged (god how I hate being paged). But I hadn't been paged! But there I was being called on my cell phone. So I'm thinking it must be an emergency and I answer it (while sitting on the toilet). It's the boss. "I'm using the restroom," I say, grinding my teeth and biting the back of my tongue. "Good, I'll see you in a minute, then," he responds.

That was first. And that pissed me right off. Where was the fire, you ask? Why, there was no emergency. In fact, I don't even recall what it was he needed.

THEN

I receive a call that some documents I ordered have been delivered and I need to pick them up at the reception desk. So I run right down to get them, and as I'm signing for them the boss calls the receptionist to have me paged. She let him know I was on my way back up and gave me a knowing look.

By now I am positively livid. I arrive at my desk burdened with thousands of cumbersome documents, to which he asks, "What are those?" I'm so mad that I really don't care that he's my boss or how I might sound when I reply, "Boss'sname, I work for other people too." In other words, butt the fuck out and leave me alone and let me do my work. I get another rousing "Good" from him. Again, no fire to put out, and I don't recall that what he had to say to me was of much importance. Certainly nothing that couldn't wait for another minute or two....

He was here only for a few minutes (30-ish) and then left, to take the remainder of the day off. He expected me to be at his beck and call for the short time he was to be here. I am as his indentured servant.

My take is this: I have a price. Everyone has a price. I'll be his effing slave, but what he's paying me is NOT my price.

I'm assuming that this morning just completely screwed my day, because I was having great difficulty today on the treadmill during my lunch break. I just barely hit 5 miles, and it certainly wasn't a cardiovascular problem - I wasn't even really breathing hard. I just hit a wall. I ran out of steam and had no energy to run on...5 miles was truly all I could do.

Sigh. Happy friggin' Friday.

An old butterfly reemerges from a new cocoon

Mon mari et moi n'avons jamais le sexe. Il me rend triste et solitaire.


Regarding yesterday's post, yes, Mr. Know-it-all is quite the jackass. I long for the day that I can tell him so. It will, of course, be my last day to work for him. Thanks for the book title, Mary. I think I might run to Border's this weekend and pick one up - and casually leave it on his desk....

My knees were feeling a bit achy this morning after yesterday's long run, so I decided to give them a rest and go for the elliptical instead. I'm amazed at how quickly the human body can adapt to rigorous exercise. A few months ago it was painful for me to work the elliptical for 45 minutes; it took a great deal of willpower. Now, even at a high resistance, it's child's play. In fact, I had to work hard just to get my heart rate up to a respectable bpm.

Hopefully this adaptation is a sign that the old me, that is, my "old" body is beginning to emerge. I'm beginning to see my "old" legs, though my ass and abs are lagging behind somewhat. I want it, though, and I'll continue to push hard for it. And once I reach that/her/me I will never again take that/her/me for granted.

Scout's honor.

Slithering scary snakes

I dreamt that my family was visiting Thailand. We, along with what seemed to be dozens of others, were wading belly-deep in muddy water. The water was punctured at various spots by tall, thin trees, and I could see many buildings, eateries, businesses, etc. surrounding the water in which we were wading.

As we continued wading, I began to notice that there were big black snakes everywhere. They appeared to be floating atop the water alone or in groups. There were hundreds of them, and some of them looked to be truly huge. I recall that everyone was simply walking around the snakes, nonchalantly dodging them, and that the snakes didn't seem to be lunging at anyone. I was terrified, however, certain that I would walk right into one, causing it to strike me.

Finally we were out of the water and walking up narrow, dirty, rickety stairs, which ended in a small restaurant/cafe of sorts and we sat down to eat.

Odd, no?

So, Dr. Freud, I wonder what your take on this dream might be?


In other news, the results from my 5k are in. *drum roll* I was 38th out of 129 in my age group. Not too great, but hey, I wasn't last - far from it! And I had a truly shitty time, so my results can only improve. I'm planning on another at the end of April and another near the end of May. I have a goal, something to work toward.

I am a woman on a mission.

WEDNESDAY WHINE (it's been a while, so bear with me)
My boss caught the tail end of yesterday's run. (Grrrr) He decided it was appropriate to approach me at my desk later to critique my running form, criticizing me for "running on [my] toes instead of [my] heels." Of course, I actually hit mid-foot, which I half-heartedly attempted to explain.

Well, he argued, his high school running coach (of over 50 years ago - he's almost 70) told him to always strike heel-toe for proper form and maximum efficiency. So that's it, then. That must be the only correct way of running.

I told him that many of the world's best and most elite runners, the kenyans and ethiopians, train barefoot and that barefoot running makes heel-toe strike nearly impossible. It causes one to run more lightly on one's feet, thereby decreasing the shock absorbed by the knees. I told him that I too run barefoot from time to time to help correct my stride, and that since I had changed my running style my knee problems had vanished and my speed had increased.

He replied rather haughtily that he would "be watching the kenyans and ethiopians at the Peachtree Road Race to see what they do." (In 2006, the top 6 places in a row were Kenyans as well as places 9, 12, 13, 15, 18 and 20. No Ethiopians in the top 20 that year. In 2007, places 1, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8 were Kenyans and Ethiopians took places 10, 14 and 15).

So Mr. know-it-all strikes again. I felt instantly angry. I know I shouldn't have been, but I was. I wanted to yell and curse at him and quit my job, just walk right out. Right then.

I want to do that a lot these days......

Apparently 5 years of shit from him is all I can take.

Run, AtlantaMom, run!

I've started a pattern of barefoot running on the treadmill. Half my daily mileage (sometimes more) is run barefoot. I begin shod, but after about 2 miles (though sometimes I can make it 3) my shoes begin to bother my feet, so I toss the shoes to the side and resume running barefoot. The difference in my stride is amazing, and it's lovely to run without pain in my feet from shoes, no feeling of too-tightness and no knee pain. Truly the only pain is from my lower calf muscles. They always know I'm running barefoot, and remind me throughout the day afterwards.

I really have a hard time running more than 5-6 miles on the treadmill. I find it terribly boring. Even breaking up the mileage by mph bores me. I've begun to change it up to help increase my speed. My natural stride seemed to be 5.2 mph and I could run at that speed for miles and miles without even getting winded really. 6.0 mph is more of a push for me and 6.5 mph gets tough after about .25/mile. I fully realize that in order to really perform in a 5k or 10k I need to be hitting 7.5 mph easily. I'm trying to be patient and work up slowly. It's hard. I like to see progress YESTERDAY, but my aging body won't let me push it any harder or faster than I am right now.

Still, I remain dedicated and I run on the treadmill M-F without fail, 3 miles being my minimum. On some of those days I also run after work, depending on how hard I pushed on my lunch break.

Several 5Ks are coming up and I'd like to run at least one per month, with my real goal of the Peachtree Road Race (10k) on July 4. That's a huge one, with thousands of runners and over 150,000 spectators each year.

I need to be running 10+ miles a day, though, to really do any justice to myself and my age group in that race.

Who else gets it?

Ever want to brag about how many miles you racked up at lunchtime, but realize that no one cares?

I hate that.

I sent one of my best buddies a text message earlier today trying to brag about my new increase in both mileage and speed - she knows what a long, hard road it has been for me to run again, about the injuries, about my first race, about all of it - and she completely ignored the whole thing. Her next text messages to me were regarding her dog. Why is that?

I then sent a quick email to hubby telling him I was excited because I had increased my mileage. No reply. Why?

Why doesn't anyone care that I can run for miles now, though just 6+ months ago I couldn't run .25/mile?

I can see now that those who train for triathalons and who train CONSTANTLY for more than mere running must really be starved for appreciation.

I APPRECIATE YOU. I GET YOU. I ADMIRE YOU.

p.s. I awoke to find that I have muscles in odd places just above my ankle area in the back. I know this because they hurt like hell (I read that this might happen after barefoot running - there's an entire running "movement" who are pro barefoot running).

BAREFOOT RUNNING!

Yee haw!

I ran on the treadmill today barefoot - and it was WONDERFUL. No rubbing, chafing or any sort of bothering of "Texas," though I did start to get friction burns after 3 miles and had to stop.

But wooohooo!

Moleskin and tape

Godsends! It takes me back to my ballerina days, in fact. (which IronMary pointed out in a comment). I forget that you were a ballerina for a long time too, Mary.

The photo of Texas (which is the name I've given my blister) was taken AFTER having been drained, so even then it was on the mend. Lucky for me I can doctor it enough to continue running. First it gets a good coating of liquid bandage. Then I cover it in a piece of paper towel, cover that with a big piece of moleskin, and then cover THAT with tape wrapped completely around my foot a few times. It works well, though I found my toes to be quite purple yesterday after my run when I removed my sock. I'll have to be more careful about taping too tightly. It's been a while since I've had to tape my feet and I'm rusty.

I could easily say that the reason I continue is that I'm disciplined (see above regarding my prior life as a ballerina). If I were to be more honest with myself, however, I might have to admit - perhaps grudgingly - that I've become quite addicted to running.

And isn't the first step toward recovery admitting that there is an addiction issue?

Ok, so I'm not interested in recovery. This running addiction IS my recovery!

With each step I'm getting closer. Closer to fine.

Ahh, there she is, in all her glory. the disgusting, huge, fugly blister. The things we do for fitness!

At least the elliptical didn't hurt - I put moleskin over the spot in my shoe that was rubbing and tied the shoe very loosely. Since feet don't move on the elliptical all was well.

Weird dream this morning.

I dreamed about one of the bloggers whose blog I read often. I have a link to her blog (Iron Mary). The details of the dream have faded away, but I have perseverated on the oddness of having dreamt of a blogger whom I have never met in person.

I am certain that it was due to my beating myself up over my shitty 5K time in comparison with people like Mary who train constantly for REAL races, such as triathalons. And here I am trucking along like an old lady in my little 5K turkey trot.

Truthfully, and the way I have resolved to look at this from this point forward, my shitty time was certainly better than the time of all those who walked, and certainly better than all those who didn't participate at all (thanks, crumbs). And the simple fact of the matter is that a year ago I couldn't run .25 mile, much less 3.1 miles, which makes my little turkey trot a feat indeed.

I'll post my exact rank as soon as results are posted. I'm very anxious to see....just knowing this information could very well boost me.


I will improve in time. I will be patient and diligent.

30:16

I ruefully type the time, hanging my head in shame.....

At least I wasn't last - neither overall nor in my age group. 1,000 women took part. Not sure of my ranking - only the top 3 in each age group were announced afterward, the rest will be listed at a later date.

Mile 1 was fabulous for me and I was sure I would do much better than I had first thought. I continued trucking until I hit just past mile 2.

Mile 2 was composed of nothing but hills (2 loooong, though not terribly steep, hills followed by 1 ridiculously and heart-stoppingly steep one). Also at around mile 2, the silver dollar-sized blister on the bottom of my right foot, which I had so carefully painted with liquid bandaid and covered with a bandage and TWO socks, became the bane of my existance. There were moments that I wasn't sure if I would make it, certain that my entire foot must be rubbing off.

But then an old lady passed me and that shook me up. I somehow pushed the pain down and got into gear. Unfortunately, it was too little, too late, and I finished with the shitty time above.

Sigh.

But the tee shirt is adorable and comfy and I've already begun planning the next 5k. I will have that dreadful blister taken care of (new shoes must be in order) and nothing will deter me. It would be hard to do WORSE than that, after all, so things can only get better.

*I've been so upset with my finishing time that I considered lying about my time on the blog, just for the sake of saving face for the 2 or 3 people who read this. Of course, then I'd be lying in my diary and who the hell does THAT?*

Have no fear - I am still here

To my lovely ladies who said they missed me....bless you! I have missed you as well. I have also missed my rants.

I've been so busy at work (which is when I can usually find a few minutes to write), and blogging at home is out of the question really (my blog is my secret), hence the great nothingness lately.

But I'm here. I'm well.

Workouts:
I'm still running and doing the lunch-time elliptical or treadmill, depending on which is available. But for some reason I'm at a weight plateau, which is really pissing me off. I'm working so hard to beat my body back into submission, and the effing scale isn't showing me what I need to see. I tried to convince myself a few times that the scale is broken. Unfortunately, it seems to correctly weigh the 10lb. weight I put on it now and then (to check for calibration, of course). So there's that....

News on the workfront:
Miss gag-snort had a "talking to" recently, and, according to human resources her hours have been reduced to 30 per week, for which she will now be paid, rather than the 30 she was actually present though she was paid for 40. So a round of applause is needed there....

Running news:
My first 5k is THIS Saturday bright and early. I'm scared shitless about it and I get butterflies every time I think about it. I'm not scared of running - I do that every day. I'm not worried that I won't finish - I run 5k all the time. I'm scared that I'll disappoint myself by finishing with a terrible time. I hate disappointing myself. It will absolutely kill me to see other women, possibly a good bit older than I am, truck right past me with no apparent effort. I'm just too damned competitive for my own good.

What other news can I relay?

Atlanta news:
Downtown Atlanta fell victim to its very first tornado Friday night. That was a shock. Hubby and I were out that night (another shock). We had dinner and then went to a small music-hall bar to see a live Irish band. That was interesting. I'm quite irish by the looks of things (actually, half Scotch-Irish with a dash of German and half English), but I had never heard any of the songs they played, nor had I ever seen Irish dancers (who popped up on stage to dance a few times). It was a fun time, despite how different and odd the music and crowd were and how out of place I felt. As we were leaving, the crowd was told that most of downtown was closed off because a tornado had hit. That was how we learned of it. We weren't affected by road closings or high wind damage, but I heard that initial damage estimates are in the multi-millions. Whew!

My car has been "in the shop" since last week. I had several things going on with it which needed fixing - and it was due for a routine servicing anyway. The good news is that the car is ready today and hubby is picking it up this morning (I drove his car to work today). The bad news is the price for the work: $2,300. Holy shit! Oh, the clothes and shoes I could buy with that! But I guess that's the price one pays for driving a luxury car, eh? You have to put ONLY premium gas in it (to the tune of almost $4/gallon) and the cost for servicing the effing car is out of this world. Sigh.

Oh yes! A fun story for me, but possibly boring for readers:
Monday night my man cub had baseball practice at one of the parks where I like to run. I made woman child go with us and decided to take dah big dog because it was her birthday (2) and I thought a 3+ mile run would do her some good. So after dropping off man cub at his practice "area" and ordering woman child to watch over until we returned (the park loop is about 3.25 miles), I took our Scooby Doo dog for a run. There were people and dogs everywhere and she was so excited. We had just begun the warm up walk when she leaned a bit to her left to sniff a couple walking by. As we passed, the man said loudly "GOD, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU! YOU CAN'T EVEN KEEP YOUR DOG TO YOURSELF!" I'm not sure why his reaction pissed me off so much. Maybe I was pissed because it's a family park and there were upwards of 100 dogs in and around that park at that very moment. Maybe it was because it was completely uncalled for - my dog merely SNIFFED them in passing. Maybe I'm PMSing. Or maybe I'm just a bitch. Whatever the reason, I stopped and turned, seeing that the couple had also stopped and turned so that we were facing each other with about four feet between us. And suddenly I heard myself say "Oh, kiss my ass," to which the pale skinny geek guy said (quite loudly) "Fuck you!" and to which his velour-panted foreign girlfriend replied (even louder) in a thick European accent: "Zoo dunt eben haab wan." The guy ranted and raved further, though I couldn't understand him because the girlfriend kept repeating the same thing so loudly. As I stood there trying to decide if I should walk toward them and order my big bad dog to EAT THEM, I suddenly realized that the girlfriend was trying to say that I didn't HAVE an ass to kiss, and was suddenly quite pleased. I grinned like a drunk redneck at a strip club and said "Wow! Thank you!" And my big puppy and I promptly resumed our warm up walk. I happily repeated her "insult" throughout my run. "You're such a good girl," I told her.

Maybe the running IS working this ass off after all.

Instant gratification

I was born with peach colored fuzz. As I grew up, I learned that my particular hair color is called "strawberry blonde." To a kid, it's simply RED. And having red hair as a kid is a very bad thing indeed. It makes you different. Other kids call you "red," "carrot top," etc. And adults! Everywhere we went some well-meaning adult would feel the need to point out what I was already painfully aware of. Did they really think they were the first ones to ask, "Where'd you get that red hair?" Argh. And so my hair color insecurity was born.

I begged my mother probably a hundred times to let me dye it or highlight it - anything to get rid of the red. I was never allowed to....

As an adult I was afraid to change it. Because I had never been allowed to experiment, I was deathly afraid of what would happen, how I would look, how to pick the right color, etc. And so I did nothing. Until about two years ago. I started to feel that I needed a change. I opted for highlights.

I liked it. It was great. Subtle, but different. And of course I wanted more. MORE, MORE, MORE. Make me a blonde, I said. And he did. And then he took my $150 and said he'd see me in 4-6 weeks.

Honestly, I'm far too low maintenance to need all that maintenance! I never got touchups on time, so I have been walking around with darker roots showing for forever. Who really has that kind of time and money to keep up with blonde highlights?? (Aside from 95% of the mothers at my kids' school, that is...)

As I sat and pondered the sheer awfulness of my hair on Monday, I decided to have it dyed my natural color. I called the salon across the street and they could take me THAT afternoon. Woo! I'd have no more roots and I'd be back to the ole me in no time. I even took along a photo which clearly showed my natural haircolor.

After discussing the color and looking at several, the colorist talked me into going a color that was (to me) obviously darker than my natural color. I loved her to death - very sweet - very young - talkative as hell. Several times she mentioned that the color was "beautiful" and that it was "probably richer than you're used to," which should have sent up enormous red flags. But I was there. In the chair. Being worked on. And it felt good.

The rinse and blow dry went well. I could tell that it was indeed darker than my natural color, which disappointed me. I didn't WANT darker. I wanted ME. Everyone in the place ooed and ahhed about the color. I was told it was so gorgeous, brought out my eyes, etc. etc.

I got home and casually walked into the well-lit kitchen to start dinner and see what husband would say. I saw the shock in his eyes. "It's so red," he said. "Wow! It's red..." he repeated, with an uncomfortable laugh. That just was not the appropriate response, and I ran out in tears. Once in my brightly lit bathroom, I inspected it closely. I cried harder. Yes indeedy it was red. But not MY red. It was more of a purple-red.

I went to work with my head bowed and my hair pulled into a tight ponytail, with hopes that few people would notice. I immediately called the salon and made an appointment for her to "fix" my color, blaming my husband, "My husband hates my hair," I said. Didn't mention that I hated my hair...Couldn't see me till Friday. FRIDAY! Ohmigod. I immediately began to research (google). "red is too red;" "salon screwup;" etc. And I found a product called Colorfix.

*You'll want to write this down, ladies.*

The product removes all permanent haircolor. For me that meant all the red (purple), and 2 years worth of blonde highlights. I was so nervous. So was husband. He paced downstairs and tried to come up several times. I had to ask him to please stop hovering and let me be for a bit.

I emerged as myself. The strawberry blonde (MY red) was back. Phew.

And so the next time I get a wild hair up my ass and want instant gratification, I will hopefully remember this lesson I learned. And if that doesn't work, I still have half of the Colorfix left.

I've got a meetin' the ladies' room
I'll be back real soon
Uh-oh, uh-uh-oh
I've got a meetin' the ladies' room
I'll be back real soon
Uh-oh, uh-uh-oh

I've got a meetin' in the ladies' room
(Get yourself some business, baby)
I'll be back real soon
(And leave my man alone)
I've got a meetin' in the ladies' room

Meeting In The Ladies Room - Klymaxx

Quick note about my paranoia

To my handful of lovely blogger friends:

Of course the paranoia of my posts has nothing to do with you. It's related ONLY to people who might guess from my words that it is I - people who are associated with my family, my work, my kids' school or with my husband's work.

So rest easy. I'm still here, just more careful about pictures and names and such. :-)

Have to write later about my narrow escape from hair dye hell.

Paranoia can strike at any time....

....like late Sunday night....

I couldn't sleep last night after reading a comment. The comment basically said that I wrote true-to-life and heartfelt posts and that she wished she were brave enough to put it out there like that.

I started to think that perhaps I should be more careful...the reason for the blog is an outlet for my thoughts, feelings, and anonymity is key. As a parent and a spouse, my actions affect more than myself. My words could get me fired from my job, they could cause problems for my children at school and they could cause marital problems.

And so I deleted some of the blogs which were too much, and any photos which might link my children or myself to the blog. Sure, those who really know me would know right away that the words are mine, but hopefully the only people reading these words are people far away or people who won't ever meet me or who won't care that I am, in fact, keeping it real.

And then I was able to sleep.

Are we lemmings?

My dream:

I am sitting high atop a mountain, though the mountain itself is only 5-10 storeys high. It's made exclusively of rock and is very ragged with sharp protrusions. It appears to be in a semi-circular shape (like some of the volcanic craters in the Hawaiian islands), as I can see others perched all around me at various elevations and across from where I sit. There were a number of people perched on the rocky formations - perhaps 40 or more.

Suddenly I became aware that a woman wearing a large navy blue, wide-brimmed straw hat (across from my field of vision) is standing. Her hat was so large I could not see her face. And then she was falling. Down, down, down. I didn't allow my eyes to follow the trip down, nor did I peer over to see where or how she had landed. I didn't want to see. I then noticed that the man who had been sitting next to her had stood up, and in the blink of an eye, he dove off - presumably to join her. Down, down, down he went. Again, I averted my gaze.

I sat in shock, afraid to move, feeling the sharpness of the rock against my back and under my legs and bottom. I realized that people all around me were beginning to fall. They were as lemmings, jumping off a cliff, one by one.

At this point I became aware that my children were seated near me, and I covered their eyes and held them tightly against me, lest they see and also follow suit.

I must have awakened after this point, for I don't remember anything further.

Weird.....

I supposed I can take from this that at least I don't feel that I'm a follower. That, in my opinion, is a good thing.

Where are you, Dr. Freud, when I need your dream analysis skills?

Thank god it's [almost] Friday!

Thoughts of Friday push me along. As I arrive at work each morning I look toward Friday to get me through the week. Friday is my goal, the golden ring I reach for. I wish for Friday every day. I'm wishing my life away....

This weekend is a big one - the beginning of Spring Break. I have to say goodbye to the fruits of my womb for a week. My man cub is leaving to go to his dad's in another state for a week, and my woman-child is headed to Florida with a friend.

This means I get a full week without kids. I can eat at 10:00 p.m. if I so choose, and it doesn't have to be nutritious. I can eat dessert and nothing else. I can watch rated R movies late at night on surround sound (loud). I can listen to music as loud as I like at any time of the night. I can drink too much wine and get tipsy or drink even more and get drunk.

My heart aches as they drive away, but my head is excited. I cannot completely relax - ever - unless I know for certain that I will not be needed by either of my children. I get this mini vacation every spring break and 6 weeks each summer, as well as every other holiday.

And so while I am forced to deal with an arrogant, manipulative, drama queen of an ex husband, there IS a silver lining to the dark cloud that is the ex - Mini vacations for mom.

Lucky me.

Well, it's about effing time!

Freezing weather in hotlanta

argh!

It was 26 degrees this morning and the ground was covered in sparkling white ice. It's rained on and off for a couple of days too. I can't complain about precipitation because we've been experiencing a drought of historical magnitude in Georgia, but it really screws with my running.

As does man cub's baseball practices! Practice is right after work two days during the week, and on Saturday and Sunday too. Once games begin, though, practice will be reduced to three times weekly.

But not to worry. I've remained true to my mission of daily workouts.

I've been squeaking away on the hamster wheel, and after using it for three straight weeks during lunch (except on weekends), I must shamefully admit that I've become obsessed with the elliptical. I look forward to lunch so I can rush down there, get dressed and hop on - before anyone else can.

I've begun to look at the machine as though it were my own, too. I've daydreamed about carving my name into its lovely steps, or scrawling my initials in Sharpie marker on the metal arms, but I figured that might piss people off, so I haven't yet succumbed to the urge. In any case, I expect MY elliptical to be free and waiting for me any time I am ready to use it. The two times I got there to find that it was being used by someone else I almost lost my shit. I paced back and forth. I walked into the dressing rooms and sat and pouted. I stomped my feet. I paced some more. I walked back out. I busied myself with my phone. Finally I sat in a chair facing the machine and waited. I had to wait! Horrors!

Changing the subject, I've slept on the couch for a few nights after a tiff and those nights have actually been quite beneficial to me. I have slept soundly through the night and have been able to awaken early enough to get dressed and ready at a leisurely pace. You see, Husband snores - loud enough to wake the dead. It's a truly awful sound, and it's quite frustrating to be awakened all night every night by the gutteral and very loud sounds of his snoring. I hate snoring, to be honest. I always have. My beloved grandfather snored and I hated it even then. I don't sleep through the night EVER when we share a bed. In fact, I'm eternally exhausted. Every day. No matter what I do. It's from lack of sleep. And on the nights when I've been awakened so many times that I'm really upset and/or angry, I end up stomping off in the dark to go sleep elsewhere (the couch). Why does HE get to remain in the comfortable bed when HE is the one who keeps me up all night? Good question.

Heavens to mergatroid

WINNERS

Yessiree, this mom and son team know what they're doing! We won 1st pace in his den and 2nd place in the pack (overall). Not bad at all! Two more trophies to add to our collection. :-)

Numb

I'm certifiable!

Yep, yer lookin' at a freshly-certified CPR expert. I'm also the proud owner of a "CPR Microshield." This handy dandy rubber/plastic contraption stores in a little 3"x2" flap attached to your keychain, which one is to rip open in the event of an emergency. It fits over a stranger's mouth and nose, allowing you to perform mouth-to-mouth on even the creepiest of characters. It even has a pair of rubber gloves inside! Well worth the $8 it cost me.

I would have welcomed one of those on some of the dates I had in college!

And Atlanta is enjoying day 2 of rain. Because most of Georgia has suffered from a drought the rain is welcomed. Being on water restriction really sucks. The problem with rain in Atlanta is the traffic. Most of the drivers in this city can't drive in perfect conditions. When you add water to Atlanta drivers you get INSTANT IDIOTS.

The photo was taken with my phone last night as I was leaving work (after the CPR class). It was raining and traffic was bumper-to-bumper. It took me an hour to get home, 8 miles away!

Which, of course, brings to mind a much-loved song....

When lonely days turn to lonely nights,
you take a trip to the city lights
and take the long way home,
take the long way home.
You never see what you wanna see,
forever playin’ to the gallery,
you take the long way home,
take the long way home.

Take The Long Way Home - Supertramp



And for those who recall my towel snafu of yesterday, I made damn sure to pack one today. :-)

Cardiopulmonary resuscitation

Today I'm taking a 4 hour class to get certified in CPR and First Aid. This will be at least the 3rd time that I've been certified; I never renew it, and it lapses.

Da job is paying for it, as it was felt that a number of persons should be capable of the life-saving skills the certification affords. I signed up immediately.

It gets away from this buttcramping desk and my gagsnort neighbor early, but it also keeps me here longer. I leave at 4:30, but the class is from 2-6pm. By the time I get home it will be too dark to run. But I planned for this and slipped in a good 45 minutes of workout on the elliptical today.

Unfortunately, I forgot my towel. Because I was dripping with sweat and had to get back into a nice suit, and because I knew I would be attending this class later, I had to take a shower anyway. So I did. And then I had to stand in the shower stall waiting for whomever was in there changing to leave so I could streak across the room to the dressing stall. I pulled a dog move and tried to shake off most of the moisture, but mostly I just stood there and dripped dry. Nice, huh? Yes, I am quite the moron some days, but at least I'm not alone.

Alison,
I know this world is killin' you
oh, Alison,
my aim is true....

Alison - Elvis Costello

I've been tagged!

Found this on Shanna's space and she tagged me as one to take part, so here goes....

Two Names You Go By: Just two? Because I've been called lotsa stuff and I've answered to most! For simplicity's sake, though, I'll play along. "Mom" and "Hon."

Things You Are Wearing Right Now: A long gray skirt; a black top with a long black camisole under; black heels.

Two things you want (or have) in a relationship: Honesty & Humor

Two of Your Favorite Things to do: Crank the good tunes really loud and dance around and take photographs of my kids and macros of beautiful flowers.

Two things you did last night: Watched American Idol with the family and helped kids with homework (between dinner, cleanup and laundry, but that's way more than two things).

Two people you Last Talked To: The Boss and my coughgagsnort coworker (to let her know that our client had arrived).

Two Things You're doing tomorrow: work, and then I'm getting certified in CPR and First Aid after.

Two Longest Car Rides: My family drove from Mississippi to California one summer when I was 16. That's THE longest. The second longest must have been a drive from Phoenix to California two years ago with my own family.

Two Favorite Drinks: Unsweetened iced tea and Diet Dr. Pepper (though an ice cold Coors Light is always good, or a good wine)

Two Things About Me you may not have known: (1) I lived in Hawaii for three years on the island of Maui; (2) I was trained in classical ballet from the time I was 3 until I was 17; I was in a ballet company for many of those years.

Two jobs I have had in my life: I worked in an art gallery as an "art consultant" when I lived in Hawaii and I was a substance abuse counselor for a few years.

Two Movies I would watch over and over: The Sound of Music and Breakfast at Tiffany's

Two of my favorite foods: sushi and ravioli

Two places I'd rather be right now: skiing in Colorado or snorkling near a tropical island

I won't tag anyone, but the three of you who read my blog now and then (other than Shanna), please consider yourselves tagged.... :-)

Cleanse my what?

"Cleanse your colon"

I've been getting these weird emails every day for two weeks!

What the eff? Is this a drug, some sort of heavy duty, super duper enema? (I delete them immediately without opening them, so I really don't even know what they're touting.) Secondly, how the hell do these people know that my colon needs cleansing?? Creepy.

And now for some "Whiney Wednesday:"

I have just learned that tuition at my kids' ridiculously expensive school has gone up AGAIN. This time it went up about $2,400 EACH, AND we are required to purchase Apple laptops to the school's specification. Grrrrr! I'm pissed off. Actually, I feel more sick than pissed. I just don't know how I can keep this up.

I was already paying about $30K per year for the two of them to go to school. Now it's going to be about $35k. And this is for tuition only; this doesn't count the summer-spring uniforms or the winter uniforms (which are different), nor the school supplies which they supply (for uniformity), but which we are billed for, nor many other charges throughout the year. I'm being taken advantage of (translation: FUCKED IN THE ASS) because I have intelligent kids and I live in a big city whose public school system is SHIT. I really have no choice. 4 more years for my woman-child and *gulp* 9 more years for my man cub.

Suck it up, AtlantaMom.

My always kind and thoughtful Dad would say "Buck up," to which I always retorted (in my mind only, of course!) "shut the fuck up." It rhymed and it made me feel better.

Ok Wednesday Whine over.

The man cub got his first "shiner" yesterday at baseball practice. The ONE practice I missed! I felt so guilty learning that he had been hurt and I wasn't there to comfort him...The fact that I couldn't have done anything means nothing, of course. I had to pick up the dog from daycare, which made me late, so I decided to skip that practice and instead work on a yummy dinner. I was shocked and dismayed when he walked in with a big red lump just under his right eye. The ice pack came far too late; it will be purple by tonight or tomorrow morning.

Later I realized it was a sort of right of passage and told him the story about my first shiner, also from a baseball. As I recalled, I was playing with the neighborhood kids and my dad was pitching (the father unit actually being there was the real shocker). I was up to hit and he threw a wild one that beaned me in the eye. I also recall that my mom was pissed that I had to walk around with a black eye for a week. Ah, well.

I took a picture for the boy's scrapbook. :-)

And I wear my sunglasses at night
so I can,
so I can
forget my name while you collect your claim.
And I wear my sunglasses at night
so I can,
so I can
see the light that’s right before my eyes.

Sunglasses At Night - Corey Hart
(remember that one?)

Happy as a hamster on a workout wheel

I think I've finally hammered out a pattern of workouts.

Much as I hate to admit it, the blasted elliptical is quite the machine. In fact, I've become obsessed with it, and I want one for myself! I'm loathe to use the machine at work, but until I can scrape up $4,500 to get the same model I can use for free at work, I'll just have to suck it up.

I've decided that I am willing to be a hamster for a little while each day if it gives me the results I'm seeing (and feeling)! In fact, I've incorporated the machine into my fitness life and plan to continue to use it at least 4 times per week - always on my lunch break - and keep my running schedule after work on the days that I'm able.

It's a nice change from only running, and the change is beneficial in other ways - different muscles are worked and it keeps my metabolism and cardiovascular fitness "on its toes," so to speak.

*Bowed head* So there it is. I must admit defeat and shamefully also admit that I am in fact a hamster. ("I am hamster. Hear me squeak.")

My body has missed daily, strenuous exercise. I suppose that because I worked out so vigorously and almost daily from the time I was a child with dance, aerobics, then martial arts, that my body just NEEDS that to function normally. Since I added daily workouts back into my life I feel different. Better. More like myself - the younger me. I feel like a veil has lifted.

Is this "happy?" or is this just not stressed? Because I'm pretty sure I've been happy. But I'm not positive. How does one know when one is happy? There are no happiness measures that I'm aware of. I would venture to guess that in order to truly understand and feel happiness, one must truly understand and have felt sadness, hopelessness, despair. And if that is indeed the case, then I am certainly qualified to state if and when I am happy.

At any rate, my athletic rebirth (or is it a regression?) has been as effective as shooting up any of today's popular SSRIs. Who needs synthetic antidepressants when we are all equipped with endorphins?!

You used to think that it was so easy.
You used to say that it was so easy,
but you’re tryin’,
you’re tryin’ now.
Another year and then you’ll be happy.
Just one more year and then you’ll be happy.
But you’re cryin’,
you’re cryin’ now.

Baker Street – Gerry Rafferty

For the love of a pet

At 8:30 a.m. on this lovely, lazy Saturday morning I received a call from my mother. Sobbing uncontrollably, she managed to let me know that her baby (the dog) had just passed away in her arms. Apparently they learned yesterday that she was bleeding internally and must be let go. Their veterinarian came to the house this morning to quietly allow her to pass away. My mother called while my father was burying her.

While I'm not close to my parents, hearing my mother's pain through the telephone line touched something in me and I began to cry.

I remembered going through the same pain not long ago with my own favorite dog. It was the single most gut-wrenching event I've experienced. She died with her head in my lap, my tears falling on her nose as I softly stroked her head and told over and over what a good girl she was. I'll never forget that day.

November 16, 2006. It was "the day the sky cried." I made that drive to the veterinary office, trying to watch the road through my tears. My long-time friend and protector was in the back seat, taking her last ride in the car. As I drove, the sky opened up. It rained and rained that day, matching my own torrent of tears.

It took my children and me quite a long time to get over the death of our beloved dog. Her absence left a gaping hole in our lives that wasn't filled until we picked out a new puppy together. This new puppy love gave us the ability to finally let go of the pain and loss....

Time really does heal wounds. I know that in time my mother will be ready for a new wriggling, warm bundle of playfullness.

And so today I will think fondly of the very loved and spoiled Rottweiler - the dog who captured all the love and affection from my mother that I only dreamed of. Rest well, sweet girl.

The homeless gal appeared again today (I snapped a picture with my phone as she walked back up the street). She stood right by my car holding up her sign. She looked at me. I couldn't look at her and not give her anything, but I don't have any money. I didn't even have a dollar! I rolled my window down and dumped out what change I had in my wallet - all .63 of it - and handed it to her, apologizing for having no cash. I won't be visiting the vending machine today for lunch, but that's ok - my missing lunch surely doesn't mean I'm going to starve. I'm the idiot who can't seem to remember to BRING LUNCH to work.

After the dinner I had last night, I could do with skipping a whole DAY of eating - if not two days! It was a gluttonous feast. And besides, I'll be working out during my lunch break, so I won't even miss not eating today. I've had to resort to hamster life this week due to rain a few times and after-work baseball practices.

I worked for two days on a special dinner for my Valentine (I made the dessert and appetizers ahead of time). I'm pretty pleased with the way it turned out. Our menu was as follows:

Appetizer: seafood (crab and shrimp) stuffed avacados
Salad: bleu cheese salad (romaine hearts, toasted almonds, egg, bleu cheese)
Entree: filet mignon with balsalmic and red wine glaze, rosemary red potatoes and asparagus with an onion-wine glaze and sprinkling of parmesan cheese.
Dessert: chocolate truffle cheesecake

Hubby supplied the champagne and red wine.

After the kids went to bed hubby and I had our dessert (he had 2 pieces of cheesecake) and watched 3 episodes of I Love Lucy.

I have a very good life.

Stop and smell the roses!

It was a busy morning in my household.

I awoke at 4:00 a.m. to the sound of snoring. Unable to get back to sleep, despite repeated poking and prodding and moaning and groaning and shaking of the bed, I grabbed my pillows in a huff and stomped downstairs to the couch, where I fitfully slept until 6:30. Too late!

I rushed upstairs to get ready for the day, get Valentine's Day candies separated by family member, cards signed, workout clothes and clean towel stashed.

I rushed downstairs to the kitchen, a bag in each hand, doled out goodies to kiddies and hubby, sent the man cub to the basement to feed the cats and the fish, and was ready to rush out to the car (so much rushing!!). I grabbed my vitamins and coffee and was about to run out the door when I suddenly realized that I was being stared at. My husband and daughter were standing there with a "well?" look on their faces. "What?" I kept repeating. He and the woman-child only grinned. "What?" And finally, FINALLY, I saw. Right in front of me, and I mean right in front of my face, was an absolutely beautiful bouquet of a dozen roses - pink and lavendar, and another dozen stood in the middle of the kitchen table!

I dropped the bags and stopped - to smell the roses....

Yer it!

I got tagged or meme-d by mini.
The topic is 7 random or weird things about yourself.

Since pretty much everything about me is weird, it might take me some time for me to narrow it down to only 7!

1. I have 2 tattoos; only one of which is visible, and I hide that one every day because I have to play the part of a professional in a professional setting. (I sit on the other one, which is a yellow smiley face).

2. I once had my navel pierced (I took it out when I was pregnant) and my nose pierced. The nose piercing almost got me disinherited. but the parents never knew about the navel piercing. Such things are expected from people “on the other side of the tracks,” not from someone from “a good family.” Both piercings are long gone. No scar was left on my nose, but I can see one on my navel – a reminder of my feeble attempt at rebelling.

3. I’ve battled with disordered eating since I was in college because my entire family is obsessed with being thin. I learned it from my mother, who at 60 is a size 2.

4. I have all 55 Nancy Drew books in the original series. I’ve read them all multiple times. Nancy Drew was my heroine because she was the only smart, pretty, cool female who had the same un-cool color of hair as I did.

5. I hide my naked body from my husband because I’m so modest and ashamed of my body. I don't know why I'm this modest, but it's painful. I even get dressed in the closet in our bathroom sometimes.

6. I can’t go an hour without Carmex on my lips. I call it “lip crack,” and I’ve been known to wander the house for hours searching for it. I can’t sleep without it slathered on my lips. I have stashes all over – in my car, my purse, at work, in my bedside table and in my bathroom. I won’t let my kids use it because I’m scared they too will become a slave to lip crack.

7. I am mostly ambidextrous; while I can’t write very neatly with my left hand, I can do just about everything else with it.

I don’t really know 7 bloggers, but I can tag the ones I do trade stories with. And since I can’t re-tag the blogger who tagged me, that’s one less now... and so I tag only 4. While there are other blogs I read, I don’t necessarily trade comments with them yet.

Shanna
IronMary
Crumbs
Jessica

The rules are as follows:
# Link to the person who tagged you
# Post the rules on your blog.
# Share seven random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog.
# Tag seven random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
# Leave a comment on their blogs so that they know they have been tagged.

Just the facts, ma'am

How do you tell your husband, best friend, lover that his ever-increasing stomach worries you - and not hurt his feelings?

Does one say it matter-of-factly? Nonchalantly? Does one hint around? Casually leave health reports about weight and diabetes, heart disease, hypertension, etc. lying about?

When I met my husband he had been jogging several times weekly for a time. He was slim and taut and had no love handles. I don't know what happened. Five years later, he NEVER exercises, he smokes too much, drinks heavily, and can stuff more food into his mouth in one sitting than I ever thought humanly possible.

I don't know what to do to help him, inspire him, push him. If I casually bring up his lack of exercise, or ask about when HE plans to run/walk/exercise, his response is "We'll get there." Whah? He says the same thing about quitting smoking.... "We'll get there." All that really means is "I'm too lazy and I don't care enough to change anything."

I love this man more than I have ever loved another person (other than my children), but I'm afraid of what he is doing to his body, what he is letting himself become.

In the meantime, I will keep on keepin' on. I am on a mission from which I cannot be deterred. Not for anything. Not for anyone. This one is for me.

Twenty-five years ago
they spoke out
and they broke out
of recession and oppression
and together they toked
and they folked out
with guitars around a bonfire
just singin' and clappin'
Man, what the hell happened?
Guess some were spell bound,
some were hell bound,
Some they fell down,
and some got back up
and fought back 'gainst the melt down.
And their kids were hippie chicks
or hypocrites
because fashion is smashin'
the true meaning of it.
So don't delay, act now!
Supplies are running out!
Allow, if you're still alive,
six to eight years to arrive.
And if you follow, there may be a tomorrow.
But if the offer's shun,
you might as well be walking on the sun.

Walkin' on the Sun - Smash Mouth