saucy_dryad

~Two weeks ago Saturday, I woke with a terrible sore throat, stuffed nose and all ‘round icky feeling. Three hour vocal rehearsal that evening was sheer misery. Fortunately, the cold quickly moved to my chest and, I thought, was well on it’s way out. Unfortunately, I was utterly wrong. Woke in the wee hours Friday morning unable to breathe without difficulty or swallow without pain. What with extra classes on my schedule and Thanksgiving fast approaching, I manned up and went to the doctor. My GP came to a quick diagnosis (sinus infection. splendid) and prescribed a Z-pack. In spite of my aversion to taking antibiotics, I was happy I’d only have to remember to dose up for five days. Today is that fifth day, by the bye, and while I still have some serious sniffles, the infection appears to be all but gone.

~Due to a combination of factors, I’ve been teaching a lot this past week or so. My shoulder pain is back, if at a middling level, and my right IT band is making its presence known. That last bit might have something to do with having taken up running.

~Speaking of running, I still am. Not as much as I ought to be, but what with two weeks’ worth of sickness, it’s been difficult to breath just standing still. I have gone for a few runs, one of which was mostly hills (so unhappy; I resented every single step) and one of which was on a day in which I was teaching three classes (and I’d taught the four previous days as well). Worst run since the very first day back in September.

~Still speaking of running, there’s one more local race this year. It’s another 7k, and as it’s on the first weekend of December, chances are it will be cold. I have no cold weather running gear. Also, the course is said to have ‘brutal hills.’ Maybe I’ll skip this one.

~Sunday morning, as I was fussing about the kitchen, my sweetie ran in from outside, grabbed the fire extinguisher and ran back out. In related news, on Sunday afternoon we bought a new leaf blower.

~Honda does not want my car to burst into flames. In perusing my service records, they noticed I had not yet had this problem fixed. I received a phone call and an email encouraging me to call and set an appointment. Sure, it’ll two hours out of my very busy and important life, but at least I know they care.

~Thanksgiving in two days! I still have silly amounts to accomplish, not least of which is driving to CT to retrieve my mom. She’s staying until Saturday (at a local B&B, since our wee tilty house has no spare bedroom) and I plan to feed her delicious food and show her our beautifully decorated downtown and make her want to move here sooner rather than later. Also, I need to make two chocolate pecan pies AND figure out how to do the green beans in advance so that they don’t arrive at the table overcooked on the day. And I need to clean my house, go to the dermatologist and - most importantly, perhaps - figure out what I will be wearing to the big family gathering at my SIL’s Barn House of Awesomeness.

~My kitty is smarter than me. She activated the voice control on my iPhone. *I* don’t even know how to do that.

Rain decided my course of action today: hiking was out, running was in. I went an extra half mile past my usual turnaround and was rewarded with the loveliest stretch of the Trail I've seen so far. Knowing I'd be going a full four miles, though, I slowed my pace considerably. I don't even want to talk about how long it took me to run those four miles. Oh, and it started raining on me when I was about a mile and a half out. Good times.

After a sodden* journey to the grocery store, I came home, got on my computer and looked up local races. I'm not ready to do anything hardcore. It's likely I never will be. But I'm confident I could slog through a 5k, hilly terrain and all. My time would not be impressive, but I'd have run a race. Problem is, there are no local 5Ks that I can do before spring. There is one on Saturday, but I'm teaching a double that morning and have an appointment in the afternoon. On Sunday, there's a race not twenty minutes away from me. Better still, it's to raise money and goods for an animal shelter. What could possibly be bad about that?

It's a 7k.

4.35 miles.

I can barely slog through 4 on flat terrain. This is a hilly course. And it's 4.35 miles. And I've only been running (and we all know by that I mean doing the zombie shuffle) for a month. And I usually run no more than 3 miles, which is 1.35 miles less than the course of the race. And it's reallyreally likely my body will already be unhappy because, as I've already mentioned, I'm teaching a double the day before and I will probably be in the first day or so of my monthly week o'joy.

I am probably, almost certainly, going to do this. Heaven help me. Prayers to Hermes on my behalf are encouraged. Prayers to Hermès probably won't do any good.





Following a bout of serious exercise, I really don't care about how I look. Strange, because I'm usually super-critical of my appearance. That's not to say I go to any pains to make improvements; day to day I usually go for clean and moderately tidy without bits of stuff stuck in my teeth. It's a trial to look at myself in photographs; FB, what with 'anyone can tag you', is a nightmare. What I'm trying to say is that being sweaty and tired appears to be a good thing for my emotional well being of sense of self or some such thing.

I've been relegating running to my 'only when it's too rainy to do anything else' workout. Seems I should be incorporating it with a bit more frequency.

Still don't love it, but today was rather nice. I managed to get my run in before the rain hit, and though my pace was a bit *meh* (3 miles in 34 minutes: zombie shuffle, indeed) the trail was all but empty and smelled deliciously of autumn leaves and late-cut hay fields.

Not sure what to do tomorrow. I'm teaching again, as I did this morning and will again on Saturday, but having slacked off two days this week I really can't afford to again. Hiking would be all right, were it not to rain without cease. Had I a working bicycle, I could knock off a good ten miles. Obviously skating is out... unless I go to the Palisades Mall and hit the ice rink. And I need to get gloves and earrings and stuff to supplement my Prom Party outfit (in case you're wondering, I got kick ass faux-leather black buckle boots that I can wear to the party AND with my pirate costume the following weekend at MDRF), so it would be a one-stop trip.

Which leads me to my next bit of exercise worry... what do I do when winter hits? Don is convinced I should take up skiing, despite never having done it before. I'm thinking I need to ice skate a LOT, but I have to drive a distance to do so... though this does make me want to find an adult figure skating class geared toward the clumsy and chronically inflexible. If I can master even a halting Salchow, I can die happy.

No triple axels, though. Have we learned nothing from ICE CASTLES?

Thanks to all who voted in my poll! Kitty snuggling was the overwhelming winner, and while I don't disagree that is far more pleasant than a run* in the rain, the latter was my ultimate choice.

My first moment of stupid: I'd neglected to pack anything waterproof in which to put my car key. Following the death-by-drowning of my iPhone, I'm skittish about anything even vaguely electrical getting wet. My solution (tie it up in the bandana I'd brought to cover my post-run nightmare hair, bind it about my wrist and hope for the best) wasn't ideal. By the time I'd reached the first half-mile marker, the bandana was seriously damp and on it's way to soaked. I untied it and held it in my hand for the rest of the run.

My second moment of stupid: wearing a shirt from which I'd cut the uncomfortably tight trim around the neckline a bit too far. Between that and the increasing weight of the fabric as the rain fell steadily down, I was sporting a serious Flashdance/bared shoulder look. Annoying and uncomfortable.

The run itself, though? Not bad.

I'd decided that I would try to run three miles without stopping. Now, my legs were still stiff and sore from my first run. The sunglasses-destroying quad stretch had taken the heart out of my cool down. I neglected to stretch properly and spent the following day walking about stiff legged, wincing every time my thigh muscles were even remotely engaged. On this rainy day, though I was energized from kickboxing and determined to do this thing. A two minute brisk walk served as a warm up and then the steady, evenly paced run began.

The trail was deserted. No surprise, really. When the rain wasn't an outright torrent, it was a steady drizzle and I was drenched within the first fifteen minutes. I focused on keeping my strides low to the ground, on breathing, on the distressingly damp bandana in my hand.Thought of a story I want to start, of another I need to revisit. Counted up to one hundred, then back down, several times. Took note of the autumn leaves against the grey and dreary sky. Splashed through water sluicing across the trail. Sped up when I saw squirrels; began to suspect I might be part terrier. Made it to the mile and a half point, ran a few paces past, turned around and headed back. Got a stitch. Tried to breathe through it. Failed. Kept going anyway. Picked up the pace the last quarter mile, if only to get out of the freaking rain. Felt sort of badass nonetheless.

And somewhere in there - soaked to the bone, hair plastered to my back and water dripping from the brim of my Quidditch cap, a steady jab of discomfort in my right ribcage, fearful that I'd killed my car key as I did my previous phone, cold rain spattering against my exposed left shoulder - I realized I sort of liked it. At the very least, I didn't hate it.

It might have been a moment of madness. I hadn't eaten since the night before; this could well be low blood sugar talking. But I ran three miles (non-stop, yo) in the cold rain and, as I was stretching out (so, SO thoroughly!) found myself thinking about the next time out.

Though I do need better running shoes. And a better left hip. What's up with the IT band crap, body? I know you're old, but suck it up!






*Yes, run. We all know what I do isn't running, but typing apostrophes on either side of the word every time is tedious and serves to mock my fitness deficiency. In the spirit of staying positive, I will henceforth call my shambling zombie gait running. If and when I progress to the real world's definition of running, my version will be referred to as tapping the Speed Force or, alternately, 3x2(9YZ)4A.

It was wild and windy and ever so rainy yesterday; today looks to bring more of the same. I need to get my butt up and moving, despite muscles still aching from Tuesday's 'run.' My energy will be up after teaching the 8 a.m. kickboxing class; best to take advantage of that.

Tell me, oh wise ones. What ought I to do?

[Poll #1626270]

Have I mentioned I hate running?

Today was wet and windy. Roller Blading was out of the question, and hiking would be dicey at best. Those rocks get slippery and I have enough trouble when it's bone dry. My options were walk or run on the treadmill, walk or run outside. I opted for the latter. Now, I don't need to be able to run any great distance, but it's sort of shameful if I can't do a mile without sucking wind in a big way.

I hit the Heritage Trail, jacket tied around my waist to hold the CARDIS key and the sunglasses I'd forgotten were on top of my head. I walked the first half mile to warm up, and then ran - or more precisely, jogged - the next full mile. Not remotely quick, but I managed. I took a thirty second breather, turned around and jogged all the way back to the parking lot.

That's right. A mile and a half. Non-stop. Sure, it was a glorified shuffle (though I kicked it up ever so slightly for the last quarter mile), but I freakin' did it. Forget that the trail is fairly flat. Forget that I took a break between that first mile and the last mile and a half. I ran for over a mile and didn't cramp up, gasp painfully or drop to a defeated walk. Maybe there's something to this running thing. I still don't love it, but it just might be bearable. All in all, I felt pretty great.

Then I stretched my right quad and crushed my sunglasses.

~The End~

Week one of my C25K program is complete; tomorrow, I start on week two.

Naturally I expected that having done three walk/run training days, I'd be capable of sprinting flat out for twenty five minutes. Oh, and that I'd have dropped about fifteen pounds and have thighs the likes of which inspire sonnets. Not so much on either count. I'm going to keep on keeping on, though. There's no way out but through. Mustn't grumble. Pip pip.

What keeps me going (honestly, how silly is that? I'm one week in.) is the knowledge that if I run a minimum of three times a week, I will tone up and I will drop those extra pounds/horrifying jiggly bits. I'll also be stronger, fitter and have enhanced endurance. I will not, however, be inured to the crankiness engendered by having to run uphill for fully half of the scheduled intervals. So unfair.

There's a woman at my gym - let's call her S. - who has transformed herself over the last year. Between being mindful of what she eats, kickboxing twice a week and hitting her company gym every few days, she lost a significant amount of weight, toned up like whoa, and found her once tatchy back has grown strong and sound. With these achievements spurring her on, she decided the time had come for her to run a 5K.

Mindful of a need for balance in the universe, I selflessly ignored my own general nutrition. I exercised less, gained weight and inches and found myself increasingly less inclined to do anything as my jiggly bits expanded. Sure, there were vague motions toward reversing this trend. Without proper motivation, though, nothing stuck...

... until it did. So simple: a number and a letter. 5K.

"S. is a few years older than me," thought I. "And doughy and lame as I am, I still possess some modicum of fitness. If she can drive herself to do a 5K, so can I!"

Let's set aside the fact that I've never really run. Let's ignore my age and weight and BMI and body fat and sod-all knees*. Let's forget my post-stage combat lack of focus, my ceaseless self-doubt. Forget it all, 'cause here's the thing: I'm officially in training for a 5K.

There's a race in Florida (New York, that is... not the state) in mid-August. Both my niece and my SIL are running. Gods willing, so am I. I've got two months to get myself up to speed. I've got a knee brace, a new pair of shoes and some seriously badass insoles.** I've a big tin of Tiger Balm and a just-freakin'-tell-me-what-to-do! podcast.

Let's see what happens.





*well, that's another story. never mind. anyway...

**you've never been fitted for shoes 'til you've been fitted by Frank. seriously.