randoms.

I've been MIA from the blogging world. Unfortunately there isn't anything too exciting to post.

Here are some randoms of the past couple weeks:

-Today I got to play soccer with the team I'm coaching because we were one person short for a mini 3v3 tournament. I miss soccer more than I'll let myself realize or admit.

-I went to the gym recently and as I approached the drinking fountain I saw a man SUCKING on it. His lips were sealed over the spout. After I swallowed the vomit that had erupted into my mouth I promptly turned right around as I though I'm not that thirsty. Ever since I've been taking my fantastic green Gatorade water bottle. Thanks again, mom and dad.

-I learned that I'm rotating back to the night shift in the middle of May. Again I was forced to swallow the vomit that erupted into my mouth as I learned of the switch. I hate nights.

-The weather IS getting warmer. Slowly. It'll be nice for a day or two, then it will downpour, thunder, lightening, then get super cold again. My patience is definitely growing thin and I long for sunny days on the beach all year long. Soon enough, my friends. Soon enough.

-I made a monster salad tonight, but can't eat it because the Italian dressing I put on it stings canker sores that I've recently developed. Also, my lips are SO DRY and CHAPPED that if I open my mouth wide enough to eat salad, my lips CRACK and bleed. No bueno.

-I am SO sick of everyone flipping out about Swine Flu. Wash your hands and steer clear of Mexico for awhile, folks.

-I am chronically nauseous.

I'm a pansy.

...So I got this fancy pants bike. But I'm too scared to use it. So here it hangs in the basement... waiting patiently for me to grow some guts and take it for a ride.

I still don't know what to name it. Speedy isn't sitting well... Maybe I can call it SCOTT...

...or maybe Speedster ...

In some feeble attempt to feel worthy of a bike, I went to a spinning class at my mega gym last night. It was okay. I'm out of shape, not new news, but disappointing news. Where my quads used to feel like powerful motors that would get me up that 'hill' or allow me to increase my cadence with confidence, they felt like cold limp noodles saying "what in the WORLD are you trying to pull?!" The instructor at this one was better than ones I've encountered in Chicago in the past-- at the end of the class, though, I learned that she was subbing for the regular instructor. Go figure.

Today I ran 7 miles, though, and that is somewhat exciting. I ran it slowly-- and this run six months ago would have been one I did on a day I wasn't feeling well, but it is the farthest distance I've run since the boot, and for that I will be grateful. My motto is 'once is luck, twice is skill,' so we'll see if it's legit in the next day or so.

I work the next three days in a row, so my new bike won't see daylight at least until Tuesday. Then it's a matter of weather and what not. And if I've gotten the guts to ride the darn thing. Details.

FINALLY

I did it.

I bought the Speedster.

I emailed the bike shop guy because he failed to return my email (bad salesmanship in my opinion but I needed a bike regardless). This time he got back to me like thirty minutes later asking if I could come at 2. I could, so I did. I bussed down there, under the impression I could ride my new ride back. I arrived 15 minutes early and started panicking, as I often do when I'm about to drop several dollars on something. Thankfully my dad talked me down and I went into the store (still a little panicky-- but breathing... kinda).

So the guy pulled the bike out and started looking me up and down and comparing me with the bike. Not saying much, just staring. 'Stop looking at me' I thought. Then I realized this wasn't going to be comfortable. At all. He then said "how tall are you?" I replied 5'7". And what's you're inseam as his gaze wandered to my crotch-- WHAT?! "Um, I have no idea." He guessed about 30 and asked me to get on the bike, so I did, still somewhat mortified by the inseam. The bike felt awkward. I've never had to really lean forward on the Iron Horse and this makes me feel like I am worshipping some gods to the north or something. As I pedaled he continued to stare. He pulled out a measuring tool that looked like something I used in geometry during high school, said "yep, 30. hop off and we'll look at shoes." 'that's it?! that's the bike fit?! $300 for THAT?!' I thought. Still not sold on the idea, I followed him to the shoe wall. Then he said he wanted to watch me walk. Oh lord. If you know me, you know I'm pigeon toed. So I demonstrated my toe-in for him and he said "oh wow." We picked a shoe and a pedal then he said "well, alright." As I opened my mouth to say I wasn't comfortable with that as the total bike fit he said "Let's start the bike fit." PHEW. Up until that point I was seriously regretting being there.

Then he measured my foot and figured out where to screw on the cleat in accordance to my 1st and 5th metatarsal. When people use big terms appropriately it makes me trust them more. He started getting chatty and I appreciated that because when people don't speak it makes me think they don't want to be there and if they don't want to be there I don't want to be there and the less they speak the less I speak and that would ultimately lead to an ill-fitting bike.
I put the shoes on and got back on the bike-- he showed me how to clip in and out. That will DEFINITELY take some practice. I am prepared to fall. The next part consisted of putting velcro on my 5th metatarsal, ankle, knee, hip, shoulder, elbow and wrist. He started to do this and said 'yea it's usually easier with bike shorts..." I had thought ahead and worn my SUPER COMFY tri-shorts under my soccer shorts. Wanting this to be as accurate and worth the $$$ as possible, I told him I had them on and he said "oh good, get those other shorts off." Sick. So now I was in my fantastically tight spandex on a bike (that was set up on a trainer that was on a platform that rotated... it was quite the setup)and he reput the velcro on my hips. I hate people touching me. Then he connected the sensors. I tried imagining I was in a Gatorade commercial so I could feel super cool, but it was to no avail. I started pedaling and he 'recorded' 15 seconds at three different gears on each side. It was awkward, but neat to see how the computer could figure out where my inefficiencies are (were?) and he could then make adjustments in the bike to rectify or minimize them. I wish I understood it more so I could articulate what it does, but I don't know exactly. So then I practiced going through the gears and brakes and everything. These brakes are SO much better than IH's! ... They work. And the gears shift so smoothly, it's crazy. I practiced clipping in and out a couple of times, learned how to take of the wheels and then walked the plank to the register. We'll leave that part out of the story because it makes me nauseous.
As I was getting ready to go, I realized that the pedals on my new steed are only compatible with the clip in shoes. I could TRY to wear my running shoes with them, but it'd be ugly. So I had two options: 1) Ride it home using my new shoes and pray I didn't fall into the streets of Chicago and get run over by an ignorant motorist, or 2) Walk home. I chose to walk. Thankfully, it was a nice day and my dad was available for conversation so it went by quickly. No way was I going to risk life, limb, and more importantly my fancy new bike by taking my first ride with clip in pedals on the actual road! I felt very lame though, and as I walked someone goes "you're walking your bike???" and I sheepishly explained the situation and he just laughed. Awesome.

BUT I DON'T CARE. I HAVE A REAL BIKE!!! This is huge. I haven't really grasped it yet. But I'm excited. Now I need to find a large soft grassy field where no one will watch (and therefore laugh at) me try to figure out how to clip in and out.

I'm honestly kind of scared of it. It's SO light and I feel like I'm going to break it. IH was nice because I didn't have to be careful with it. If I did something that would break it-- it was okay because she was on her deathbed anyways. Now I'm nervous to touch the Speedster. There were some kids scootering on the sidewalk behind me and they kept coming up right be side me as I walked home. I shot the little gremlins dirty looks that said "GET AWAY FROM MY BABY" and they ran off crying (haha not really...). And each little bump in the road I slowed down and either lifted it over said bump or rolled it ever so slowly as not to jostle her precious functioning gears. I'm going to have to get over that. Quickly.

I'm exciiiiiiited.

...I'm going bike shopping in one hour..... eek!

Shamrock FREEZE

(disclaimer-- this whole post is a lot of complaining, and it's my blog so I can complain all I want)

I don't believe the old wives tale that if you are in the cold then you'll get sick. Sure it will 'weaken' your immune system, but it won't introduce new viruses and bacteria to your system-- just make your system less able to fight them off.

The Shamrock Shuffle. Oh my gosh. I knew the weather was going to be bad. I learned earlier in the week that the forecast called for snow. I have developed a passionate dislike for the white poison that falls from the sky and lingers for weeks. All the way through Saturday night-- even into Sunday morning if we're being honest--I wrestled with the desire to NOT run it. Had I not payed the $40 registration fee, heaven knows I would have enthusiastically run on the treadmill instead.

When I woke up early Sunday morning, I was expecting to see the stuff, but I wasn't expecting to see a solid inch already accumulated in addition to it falling relentlessly. I checked the event website, praying that it would be cancelled or rescheduled. All it said was that according to the "Event Alert System" it was at the "Yellow Level" meaning "Less than ideal running condition." NO KIDDING. Mortified. I still didn't want to run. I didn't want to hoof downtown on the el, I didn't want to wade through masses of people to get to gear check, I didn't want to stand around waiting for the start horn, I didn't want to RUN -- all because of the snow that was approaching 2 inches deep and forming giant slushy puddles everywhere. I didn't want to. At all.

Then something close to miraculous happened. I had a positive attitude. I had run in colder weather. It was about 30 degrees-- which a couple months ago would have been incredibly exciting. Once I started running, I would get warm. I had worked hard to find someone to work for me that day, and it'd be a waste if I played hookie from the race. I would probably regret it if I didn't run, and I'd paid the registration fee. Honestly, the latter is the clincher-- I hate wasting money.

What to wear? I bundled: many (5) layers of 'technical' tees (long and short sleeved) and a lightweight windbreaker/running coat. I decided to wear my Team in Training hat (to block snow flakes from my eyes) with an ear warmer headband over it. I wore running tights with soccer warm up pants over those. I later realized how idiotic I was in choosing normal socks and knit gloves. Normal socks do jack for keeping your feet either dry or warm. I don't know what socks I should have worn, but my little cotton things were the root of my despair. Also, knit gloves get wet and hold onto moisture. By the time I boarded the el, they were wet and they never dried.

After I brainwashed myself to think 'it's not THAT cold...' I set out. It was between 7:30 and 8:00am on a Sunday-- most people not awake yet... most people returning home from the night before. Point being-- sidewalks not shoveled. As I walked to the el my feet started to get wet. I embraced my new found positivity, realized they were going to get wet sooner or later, and kept saying 'it's a beautiful day for a race.'

This mindset lasted until I got off the El downtown. I feel like it is always much colder downtown than where I live. This could be because downtown is right at the lake front, while I'm a good mile and a half inland. Either way-- it was colder, the wind was blowing harder, and the snow was deeper. I was cold and cranky.

So I tromped the 0.2 miles from the el to the race, basically just following people. That's the beauty of a bigger event-- if you don't know where to go, just follow the masses of people. My attitude had gone polarly opposite of the positivity I briefly encountered. 'This sucks. This is not fun. This is miserable.' Once I found it I had to swim through said masses to get to Gear Check to get rid of the bag full of warm clothes I'd brought for afterward. As I made my way to the start corral I heard an announcement "Five minutes until start corrals A, B, and C are closed." This was my fourth year of participating in this race, and the race honors your loyalty by giving you a closer start each year you do it. So, I'd gotten into corral A. I wanted to get up there because I hate waiting for ten+ minutes after the start just to get to the starting line. So I hustled, and fell. Stupid ice! Fell right on my backside. I was so cranky. SO CRANKY. The snow had turned to sleet/snow/rain and with the endless wind was attacking everyone sideways. My feet were NUMB by this point. I stood in my corral trying to shake life back into them and trying to convince myself to not get back on the El right then.

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER we started. I don't understand why we had to wait fifteen minutes after the corrals closed. Honestly, cruel and unusual. I couldn't feel my feet. At all. I thought I was running on stumps. Apparently race-loyal AND super fast people are in Start Corral A as I was being passed on both sides. Humbling. I had given up on this race on Saturday night... I knew I wasn't in as good of shape as last year, I knew the weather was going to be awful... I knew I wasn't going to be pleased with my time.. So I don't want to say I didn't try hard, but ... I didn't try hard. My attitude was by far my greatest weakness. I couldn't get over the fact that this was happening. Two years ago I got sunburnt at this race. Last year I wore shorts. Now there was SNOW and ice and GIANT puddles. Ridiculous. At one point I felt something tootsie-roll esque in my shoe and I thought "what in the world could have worked it's way in there?!" Then I realized it was my pinkie toe. By mile 3 I started to regain sensation in my feet, which was quite relieving as I was getting concerned about them and their ability to withstand frostbite. I did warm up at this time, too and even sweated a little.

I brought true meaning to the Shamrock Shuffle as that is the perfect verb to describe my method of completing the race. Upsetting, really. After I finished I didn't bother changing my clothes (both because there was no place to do so and I didn't have dry shoes so it just seemed pointless). I just got my stuff and booked it back to the El. The quicker I could get in a hot shower the better.

All in all it was perhaps the most miserable race I've run-- even more so than the half marathon in Indy. I was hoping the whole time I'd feel good about it AFTERWARD, and half of my motivation in going was that I knew I'd regret it if I didn't. But I don't feel good about it. It was terrible. I'll admit that a significant amount of the awful-ness came from my attitude-- but it is a character flaw.. I hate snow. If there is anything I hate more than snow, it is snow in late March after several days of 60 degree weather. So it's not a bad race to run-- the three years before have been fantastic. But the weather really put a damper-- a real freezer-- on this one.

And regarding the old wives tale: I usually don't believe it, but I am sick now and I can't hep but blame the weather of my Sunday morning activity.

Chicken

I'm such a chicken. I told myself I was going to get a new bike today... to bring Speedy home. (I'm trying this nickname... we'll see what happens). Buuuut, here I sit and my will to walk out the door and drop many $$$ is faltering. In a desperate attempt to do something towards acquiring a bike, I emailed the salesman I talked to when I ventured down to browse last week. Along with buying a bike (as if that isn't enough), I think I will purchase a 'bike fit' which is a three-ish hour ordeal where they will adjust the bike specifically to me and my flexibility (...uhoh) and everything that will produce efficiency and prevent injury. Hard to argue with that, except for the fact that it will be $150 extra. GEEEEEEEEEEZ PEOPLE. And that is the 'discounted' price. Seriously, it's usually $300. So I emailed asking how it will all go down. It's a long process after all, and I feel like said fitting needs to be scheduled. I am all about efficiency so I don't want to have to go down buy the bike, then go back AGAIN to do the bike fit. One trip. One sweep. Thankyouverymuch, goodbye. So we'll see. I am insisting it's smart planning... but that little voice keeps making chicken 'bocking' noises at me.

Went swimming on Monday with my co-worker/triathlon buddy. Swimming is so different. I wasn't mentally prepared to do a good work out. I get nervous when swimming with someone I know, it's ridiculous. I can go and be in a pool full (ick) of people I don't know and be absolutely fine, but the second I even slightly recognize one of them I flip out. So that'll be an adjustment. I'm hoping to go again today.

My goggles irritate my eyes more than anything and that irritates me! How am I supposed to train appropriately if doing so leaves my eyes SO PUFFY (puffy enough that multiple people ask 'Oh my gosh what is wrong?!') and red and dry. It's gross, it's uncomfortable, and it's annoying. My goggles are latex free, so that shouldn't be a problem. I wear eyeshadow maybe once a week, so I have a hard time accepting that it's an allergic reaction. If it's mascara that I'm allergic to, I'll grin an bear it because lets get serious folks-- mascara is my security blanket.

Anywhoooo--- I registered for the Chicago Tri-- eek! It's exciting but daunting and makes my stomach knot. By not participating in TNT this year I don't have the reassuring thought that I have a plan and a 60 person support group to help me train appropriately. Ahh to be nerrrvous. My goal this week is to register for the sprint in June (either one in Naperville or Twin Lakes). We'll see.

The Hills are Alive in Chicago...?

I've been running outside to try to prepare for the Shamrock Shuffle (which I AM running-- I finally found someone to work for me that day!). The weather has been gorgeous for a couple of days here and there, who am I to not embrace it? Real sunlight and warmth do SO MUCH GOOD for my soul. I am very grateful for the good weather-- no matter how sporadic it may be.
Anyways-- you know you're out of shape when you think "man this hill is steep" whilst running in CHICAGO. Yowzer. There are slight slight inclines between my apartment and the lake...inclines that I didn't even notice six months ago. Now they make my snails pace even slower and that irritates me.

The girls I'm coaching won their game today-- big time. This is especially nice since on Thursday they lost-- biggER time. I am pleased that they were successful and hope we can continue on that note as the season continues. I got a little bit of a sun tan, too. What a day!

Speedster

Bike.
I've convinced a co-worker to embrace the triathlon season with me. The two of us went to Element Multi Sport on Tuesday to view their bicycle (and overall triathlon equipment) selection.

Meet the Speedster S40.

This is the bike I think I'm going to get. It is not a triathlon bike, and I am okay with that mostly because to get a triathlon bike (vs. a road bike) would require close to an extra $1,000. I think a road bike will be a large enough step up from the great Iron Horse that I won't be kicking myself too hard for not taking the plunge for a full out tri bike (which I almost think they should call a tri-cycle... but whatever).

So I walked away from the bike shop with a catalog of bikes and a business card and the aftermath of a myocardial infarction. I've known that this was going to cost a lot, but it doesn't make it any easier to come to grips with the price tag.

As I was talking to the salesman (who still insisted on remembering my open-water swimming incident...) he said that this bike would not be one I should use for my transportation around town, but solely for training and racing. =( He gave two legit reasons: 1) It can't take the wear and tear, and 2) It'll get stolen. Hard to argue I guess. All this is to say I am now looking for a functioning junker bike that I can use to get to work, the store, etc. Mas $$$. No bueno.

Progress is progress and I think I'll actually make the purchase sometime next week. Next step is to actually register for these races! Geez louise. I am going to need to take out another loan! Yowzer.

While Speedster S40 hardly has the same verbal impact as IRON HORSE, it is something I think I can warm up to. It's hard to argue with speed after all.

I'm back to the day shift, woohoo! First day back was absolutely insane due to measures beyond my control-- and it was a WEDNESDAY no less (multidisciplinary rounds... one more thing to do...). It is only typical of my luck though. I am so grateful to have some normalcy back. Yes.

Will Work for Race Registration $$$

I finally ran 5 miles. I thought I would be ecstatic when I got to 5, but my celebration is dampened by the pace I ran it at. I'm sooooo slow! Regardless, it is good to know that I can physically do the distance of the race coming up in two weeks. Ironically, though, I'm scheduled to work during the Shamrock Shuffle, and no one is jumping at the chance to switch weekends with me, so I might not even be able to go!

I went to Oprah and walked away empty handed. I don't know why I was convinced that EVERYONE gets some kind of giveaway at the Oprah show. But I was sorely mistaken. Her eyelashes look much more fake in person. They like extend out beyond the side of her face when looking face on. Gives her an Asian effect. I was also surprised by the fact she didn't really engage with the audience much aside from the scripted parts. I guess after decades of taping three shows a day (!!!) I wouldn't be super enthused about engaging strangers either... but still. A fun experience none the less.

I have found several races I want to participate in. A sprint triathlon in June, an Olympic in July, and assuming all goes well (or okay even) a half ironman in August. There is a half ironman in September which would be more appealing if it wasn't 205 miles away! The travel is the one thing that is making me hesitate with all these races, as none of them are in Chicago and reach-able by public transit. I've looked into car rental, but am deterred by the price-- especially since I am under the age limit of 25 years... that increases the price significantly. So we'll see. Sometimes I miss my parents chauffeuring me around. Another thing that makes me 'gulp' is the price! Each race is at LEAST $100 to register! Yowzer.. and most are more. No tengo dinero!

Give me Daylight or Give Me Death

Geography is not my forte, ask anyone who knows me.

But-- aren't there places in the world where the sun rises for only a few hours of the day during some seasons? If this is true (which I think it is...?) then that leads me to believe that there are some places in the world that the sun only goes DOWN for a few hours of the day. Where ever that is-- I will work the night shift THERE. Because then on my nights off, at least it will still be light outside and I can function outside my apartment despite the time being 3:00am.

I don't think that fear of what might happen is a good reason to avoid anything. ..Except when it's fear of what might happen while walking in Chicago at 3:00am because the bus and train lines don't run at that hour. Something about stray bullets and unwanted drunken attention keep me inside.

Ten more days until the DAY shift. Praise the Lord.

Sleep? At NIGHT? Pshhh

Being back on the night shift=uncontrollable insomnia=me being irritated.

--BUT--

The scheduling gods smiled upon me and I will be rotating back to days on the 18th!! YES-- 12 more days of this nonsense and i.am.back.to.normal. YES.

My goal for this month is to get serious about the quickly approaching triathlon season. This will consist of two main things:

1) Buying a bike. Still overwhelming. Still something I wish I could avoid. However, the temperature soared above 40 this past week so I brought out the Iron Horse for a spin... and reality came rushing back that I NEED a new bike. Even if I weren't going to do anymore bike-racing events-- I would still NEED a new bike.

2) Deciding which races I'm doing, and then registering for them to prevent sloth and procrastination on the training front. It should be exciting, and if I hadn't lost all ability to run somewhat decently, I might feel that excitement. But running is no longer something I enjoy, it's something I do because I 'have' to and it sucks. Woohoo, bring on training.

I've started to coach a soccer team at a high school near my alma mater. It makes me miss the sport. Despite unfortunate circumstances in my last year of competitive play and most teams I was on lost more than they won (ever since the FLAME in 4th grade...), I did enjoy playing. So it's fun to be back out on the field, even if it is watching and holding a whistle. It's a good activity that has been curing my sedentary lifestyle for the past week.

Ironically, the mascot of this team is the Mustang. I feel like there is some punn regarding the Iron Horse waited to be coined... but can't quite put my finger on it.

Better Late Than Never

When I did the Chicago Triathlon way back in August, one person (previously mentioned life saver Kirsten) and her husband came to watch the festivities. And of course she brought her camera. Life took over and I figured those pictures were as good as gone since six months had gone by and I hadn't seen any of them. However, as I checked my email this afternoon, I saw one from Facebook stating: "Kirsten Havens has tagged you in 6 photos." Enjoy!

I had no idea she was already snapping photos..

So excited to see a familiar face!

So excited to be DONE!

Hooray, we're friends!

Going home Chicago-style... hauling the Ironhorse up to the El platform was such a treat.

Definitely losing my balance on the wild ride. And feeling AWESOME in Spandex.

Thanks, Kirsten!

Jogging

When planning my come back from my stupid foot shenanigan, I reasoned that since I'd be running shorter distances in order to slowly build and avoid another overuse injury, I might as well run those shorter distances faster. After having comparatively minimal cardiovascular activity for six weeks, this task was more difficult to accomplish than I'd anticipated. It worked well for one mile. Even one and a half miles. But I kept getting stuck at two miles. While at home in January I quickly built up to three miles at the faster pace, but I credit that only to the make of the treadmills at my home gym-- they are at a downhill slant. Sure, one could increase the incline to counteract this unfair advantage... but running three fast miles felt SO good after barely being able to get through two, and after six weeks of sloth. Reality slapped me in the face as soon as I returned to this Arctic tundra-- as rude as the wind chill was the legitimacy of the treadmills. Ever since I've bounced between two miles, three miles, the stomach flu, and back to two miles. On Friday, I was grumpy. I was tired. I didn't want to run. The Shamrock Shuffle, however is drawing closer by the day, and no matter how much I don't want to run on race day, the start gun will fire regardless, and it is my responsibility to make sure I'm ready. So, I resolved to jogging.

jog (verb, jogged, jog⋅ging, noun –verb): to run at a leisurely, slow pace, esp. as an outdoor exercise: He jogs two miles every morning to keep in shape.

run [ruhn] (–verb):
1. to go quickly by moving the legs more rapidly than at a walk and in such a manner that for
an instant in each step all or both feet are off the ground.
2. to move with haste; act quickly

(credit: dictionary.com) --haha my citation skills are SERIOUSLY rusty...

Jogging is not what I want to do. But at this point, running for two miles is not a legitimate workout and I end up leaving the gym more frustrated than when I arrived, and when exercise is supposed to be an outlet for frustration, it then becomes counterproductive. So I dialed the treadmill in to a speed 0.8miles per hour slower than I'd been doing. Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I am paranoid. Maybe I am over analytical. --BUT-- There seems to be a very competitive air in all gyms. I will take ownership in this vibe, as I am a very competitive individual. It always seems that whoever is on the treadmill next to mine is peering at my digital display, no doubt thinking 'how fast is she going?' or 'how far has she gone?' or 'what a pansy, she is done after a measly two miles!' If not peering at the digital display, people will watch your pace to see if it matches, exceeds or is slower than theirs. The social rank of the treadmill section of the gym seems to depend entirely on who runs fastest for the longest. I am 100% guilty of playing a consistent role in this unspoken society. I am quite ashamed to admit it, but it'd be a flat out lie if I denied my membership. That is why regressing a whole 0.8mph is so devastating. I want to wear a t-shirt saying 'Guys... I used to be faster... don't judge me.' Perhaps this is all to teach me a lesson. While I wouldn't say that I was prideful when I could run at a more decent pace, I will say that I felt good about it. Sure, I had aspirations to go faster (hence my idea to get faster during my comeback), but I felt like I got a good workout at the pace I went and that it was something I'd worked hard to achieve. Admittedly, when I would see someone putz along on the treadmill super slow, or jump off after a mere fifteen minutes, I'd question what they were thinking and why they didn't just push through and go farther and/or faster. Cast your stones, think I'm awful, I realize that my thoughts are hardly compassionate and they're nothing I'm proud of. Here comes the lesson. Now that I am the one fighting to make it to twenty minutes and now that I'm the one who might as well skip since I'm going so slowly, I have a bit more sympathy (empathy?) towards my fellow treadmill-ers. It sucks. Karma's a bear.

Anyways, when going slower I go much farther. I was excited on Friday to go 4.2 miles before I looked at the display to see where I was at. I didn't look at the clock when I started and so the whole time I'd been trying to estimate the start time and then gauge a stop time to get in 3 miles (still on my 'buildup slowly' kick). I'd resolved to get to 2:25pm (as watched on the clock NBC provides during the Bonnie Hunt Show), then check the display, anticipating to see that I was around 3miles. When I looked, I was shocked to see that I was at 4.2miles. I lost all focus-- my jaw dropped, the air (what little of it was there) shot out of my lungs as I literally said 'WHAT?!' I was excited, but more confused than anything and sent myself into respiratory distress. So, that jog ended at 4.3miles-- a leap from what I'd been clocking in in past runs. Saturday I swam because my quads were sore (again-- humbling), and my foot was whispering 'Remember meeee?' Swimming's always interesting. I jogged again today-- turning up the speed 0.1mph from Friday-- hold on to your hats. Believe it or not I could feel that slight increase. I went the same distance-- 4.3miles (I refuse to regress when jogging) but it ended up being 1 minute faster than Friday.
I have mixed emotions:
1) Extreme disappointment: after working hard for the past three years to increase my pace, I am back at square one.
2) Shame: I feel like such an ... well... ass for being so pompous before.
3) Hopeful: for the first time since the half marathon in November, I exceeded 3 miles. This is particularly exciting since the Shamrock Shuffle in a few short weeks is 5 miles and I was seriously getting concerned that I wouldn't be able to run that distance-- a whole new can of worms.
4) Dread: yea-- I can jog 4 miles, but I have a LOT of work to do to get back to where I was-- much less improve. It's going to be hard, it's going to hurt, and it's going to take forever.

I have to just remember there will always be somebody faster than me, there will always (hopefully) be somebody slower than me, and my worth as a human doesn't depend on how fast or far I run.

...right?

So we'll see, I guess. Still don't know about the half-ironman. I'm thinking probably not. =(


My hair is still too short to stay in a solid ponytail. Mid jog today I had to reinforce the nub. That was awkward. Maybe it was good I was just jogging-- I can't imagine playing with my hair whilst running... an injury for sure.

blah blah blah blog

This post will be done in bullet points to avoid rambling on for paragraphs on end.

*I typed this post last night (rambling on for paragraphs on end-- going into disgusting detail of my most recent illness), then decided to decorate it with pictures as I have heard over and over that a blog without pictures is boring. I wrote it all out and as I was finishing off with the visual delights, the post got deleted.

*Last Friday morning (at exactly 3am), I woke up to extreme GI distress that caused me to call in sick to work and spend the following NINE HOURS spewing out of both ends of my alimentary canal. My good friend (and consistent life saver), Kirsten, responded to my SOS text and brought me the fluids (GINGERALE, my new love) that would cure the dehydration that robbed me of tears and cramped my muscles with a vengeance. The photo seen here is on Friday evening after sleeping all afternoon and in the depths of fever. While most of the GI activity slowed down that afternoon, a raging fever replaced it until Monday. Nausea hung around for a while and isn't completely out of the picture even six days later, but I am feeling much better. Praise the LORD.

*During my death match with the flu, I barely moved outside of waddling to and from the bathroom. Running was the farthest thing from my mind. The Shamrock Shuffle is in 6 weeks. Yesterday I took advantage of the 40 degree weather and ran outside. I have a lot of work to do in 6 weeks. Because I have done this race for the past few years, I got a seeded start in Corral A. The farther up you start, the faster the people are around you. I'm going to get trampled! Maybe I'll mosey on back to Corral D. Running is dismal. Racing is more dismal.

*During my extended cool down yesterday (meaning I couldn't finish the run route...) I realized that a Half Ironman in August really is impractical. I'm 94% surrendered to this fact. While I won't slam and lock the door on the idea, I won't count on it anymore. Very disappointing, I won't lie.

*Next Tuesday I will start the night shift. Enough said. If there were any way to not work the night shift, I'd jump on it. Enthusiastically.

*It has been nine months since I graduated... and I have nothing to show for it. While my job is awesome and I'm genuinely very grateful for employment, it seems like I should have more to show for the four years of mayhem (and millions of dollars) it took for me to get to this point.

Give Me Boca or Give Me Death

Well, there hasn't been much to write about, hence my lack of writing.

I signed up for the Shamrock Shuffle awhile ago. The race is on March 29th (I believe). It's an 8k held in downtown Chicago that I've done for the past three years. 8k is approximately five miles. That is nauseating right now. We'll see how that goes.

I'm still trying to figure out what this summer will look like. I'd LOVE to be able to do a half ironman, but don't want to set impractical goals. Getting back to running is proving MUCH more of a challenge than I thought it'd be, and that is beyond discouraging, especially in regards to super long race aspirations.

I'd been having a love affair with Costco-- solely for its bulk Boca Burgers-- which go for $4.39 for a box of 4 patties anywhere else, but you can get 14 monster size burgers for under $10 at Costco. However, Costco has hidden the Boca's from me, and even worse-- they don't have any staff to ask "Where are the Boca Burgers?" I finally broke and asked a sample lady and she knew where they SHOULD be, but when I said "They're not there, I've looked many times on two different days," she shrugged her shoulders. I may have shed a tear on the empty handed bus ride home-- don't judge me, I am grieving my loss of economical protein. =(

My loans are out of whack. I tried setting up the automatic payment system, but for some reason the private loan company is taking out two (huge) payments a month instead of one, and the federal company is only taking out the payment once every four months. I haven't had the time/energy/motivation to call them and figure it out. I hate talking to customer service people.

I'm all up in a funk and I wish I'd snap out of it already. It seems like that is all winter has been-- a funk. It is one of my more sincere hopes that it will break as winter breaks (in like three more months...) or sooner, because I can't handle this much longer than that. ..I think the worst part is that my funk is completely self-made. I have really no reason to complain other than cold living and the night shift approaching. Of all the bad hands to be dealt... I'll take that one over unemployment, homelessness, poor health, etc any day.

Well hello, endorphins!

I finally had an almost satisfactory run on Sunday. For the past week or so, I've been runninng immediately after lifting (to try and consolidate my # of trips to the gym because I can't afford to go multiple times per day), and I'm starting to think it has inhibitted progress. I do more arm lifts than anything (due to their overall weakness and the fact that my stupid knees can only handle so many leg activities). So by the end of lifting my shoulders and back are super... tight and tired. Despite the goofy looking stretches I'll do to try and get loose, I feel instantly tense as I start running which leads to fatigue much quicker than usual. If it were a normal day in the land of exercise for me, this wouldn't be a problem. But, these days are far from normal as I have yet to regain running endurance ever since the whole boot shenanigan. On Sunday, I didn't lift before I ran (my new plan is to not lift on weekends solely due to the fact that the gym is crowded ALL DAY on weekends whereas it is slightly more managable in the late morning on weekdays). While I hardly went far on Sunday, I went farthER than I have since I've been back, which is progress, so I'll take it. For the first mile (ish), I even felt.. good. 'I am going to go far today,' I thought. 'Finally I can go far again!' Then I hit mile two and returned to the real world and had to wring out every ounce of my being to finish a little farther than the day before. Despite my lack of follow through in my distance aspiration, I am encouraged at feeling good for the first mile. For the past.. too long.. those first 6 or 7 minutes have been filled with panic-- I can't breathe! How could I have kept this up for so long before! How will I finish this! AAHHHHHH! But Sunday was good and I felt like I could handle it and that is a step in the right direction. Finally. Upsetting is the fact that the next morning I felt my foot again. I am clinging onto the fact that it is more of a sore muscle pain than the pinpoint, dull (yet piercing) constant pain. We'll see. I decided to not run yesterday because I would rather take one day off running than spend another chunk of my life in a boot.
Instead of running yesterday, I swam again, and it was fantastic. The day I collided with Chippy was my first day back in the water since... early December, so I haven't been expecting fantastic things-- just getting used to the water again. Considering my lack of running endurance, I especially didn't expect to be swimming my normal workout. But I have been-- no problem... (a whopping twice... but whatever). Dare I say I've enjoyed the workout even DURING it? With running, it is usually a fairly miserable experience until about three minutes after it's over-- that is when my lazy endorphins start to kick in and the euphoria of the potent natural drug begins. But the last two times I've swam, endorphins met me within 500 yards. My shoulders feel strong and each lap is far from a struggle, more of a party-- woohoo I am SWIMMING! I am STRONG! I am FAST! This is FUN! I wish I could have those endorphins WHILE running! Shoot.
I don't expect my love affair with swimming to last long, as all good things must come to an end. I will probably get somewhat bored with the 'long swim' sooner than later and embrace written workouts again which always are more challenging mentally and physically. For now, however, I will love the endorphins as they greet me so early in the water.
If they haven't already, they should really figure out a way to bottle these things called endorphins. It'd be beneficial because a) it could solve our current economic crisis by selling them and b) I think the world would be a MUCH happier place.
Just sayin'.

Swimming with Chippy

I swam on Saturday. It was refreshing and nice to avoid another treadmill defeat. I am sore from said swim. Being sore is always bittersweet. It is obviously bitter because I can't move without cringing, however sweet because I know I worked some muscles that obviously needed working.
There's something about the monotony of swimming that I love. Maybe it's the only quiet environment to let my thoughts run rampant, under the counting of course... twen-ty-five, fi-i-fty, seven-ty-five, one-hun-dred, one-twenty-five, one-fif-ty, one-seventy-five, two-hun-dred... etc., each syllable a stroke, every three strokes a breath, each length a new number. I like the repetition. I like that there are no surprises. I like that unless I wimp out, each lap will require the same amount of strokes and will look essentially identical to the one before. Somehow in that safety I am able to lose my mind in itself and it's okay. I think I will start swimming more often.
One thing I don't like about swimming is lane-sharing. I have whined about it before, but nothing has changed. When I swam the other day, it was more crowded than I'd anticipated. Ironically I'd thought on my way there 'I hope I'm not the only one, I hate it when the lifeguards watch.' Then go figure the whole pool was full. What can ya do. I actually started with my own lane, but 750 yards later a chipper old man flagged me down. We decided to split the lane (vs. circle swimming) and that was that. The first time we passed each other, no big deal. I decided to embrace this as an opportunity to practice my stupid sighting stroke and every now and then to look forward and gauge where Chippy was to avoid collision. During lap two I looked up twice and didn't see him, and figured he must be behind me. Then out of NOWHERE we collided. I'd been essentially hugging the lane line as I swam, I don't like to touch strangers-- especially those that are 90% naked. Chippy, however, was sprawled out in the lane, recklessly flapping his arms as if he were trying to beat Michael Phelps' world record(s). I was very flustered by the impact and started treading water to make sure he was okay (slash passive aggressively express my disapproval of his technique). However, this incident was very much a hit and run as Chippy continued on as if nothing had happened. That just pissed me off. It's an appropriate place to get mad, though... I just used it and swam the rest of my workout a little faster. Fortunately on one of his breaks, Chippy found another lane. I only enjoyed another 500 yards of my own lane before some girl came, then a different girl after her. I don't like lane sharing, but there's really nothing I can do about it. And despite being so close to naked strangers, I am glad I went.

Return of the Iron Horse

In protest against the fare hike put forth by the Chicago Transit Authority, I brought the Iron Horse out of hibernation. I haven't been back here for a week, but I've already spent $26 on transportation. Unacceptable. The reunion with the 'ole girl was bittersweet. I do enjoy riding my bike places-- it's a win for everyone-- the environment, my wallet, my heart, etc. However, her sabbatical did not bring any healing to her ailing gears. Every third or fourth pedal stroke her gears slip. I guess she's still ride-able. Just not quite as steady or efficient as I'd like. I was surprised at my temperature during said bike ride. It was a warm 20-something outside, and I was wearing my fantastic new winter coat, so I guess it's not shocking that I wasn't hypothermic.
While I've missed IH, the ride to the pool tonight (which by the way ended up being closed for an intramural swim meet-- those are good things to post on the website, folks!) just confirmed that I need a new bike. I've been saying that I want to do a half ironman this summer (August 1st), but with my new inability to run more than 3 miles and my continuous lack of a race-respectable bike... my hopes of said race are slowly sinking. We'll see, I guess. I know I need this new bike, but I don't even know where to start looking for it! Who would have thought it'd be this overwhelming?

And just for the record, I know I chose to live in Chicago-- fully aware of its weather patterns. The thing that is different now than the previous winters I've endured here is that I am no longer on a college campus where everything I need is within a quarter mile of where I reside. I work 4 miles away, my gym is 3.5 miles away, the grocery store(s) are hardly a short walk. While these are rather short distances in the grand scheme of things, without a car they become quite the hike. Before, I could make a mad dash and be outside 5.. maybe 10 minutes until I reached the desired destination. Now any outing is an event. And I have learned that I don't like it; that I am not cut out for cold climates. It is unfortunate that this epiphany came when there is still so much of winter to endure.

phew

first day back to work was okay which is a huge relief because if it'd been 'one of those days' there is no telling what drastic one-way plane ticket i would have purchased. (...well there is a way of telling-- i would have gone home).

one day at a time.

the temperature has risen to the balmy 20's. sadly, i'm grateful.

off to work! i'm grateful for the twleve + hour distraction.

I Almost Lost My Hands.

I have regained sensation in my fingers.
But they still hurt.

I am eternally grateful for my fantastic new coat. It literally saved my life yesterday. I was nice and toasty in Portland. Even in Salt Lake City during my extended layover, I was thermally content. The plane ride to Chicago seemed cold, but I think that was more mental than anything. Before I even stepped off the plane I could see my breath. I got into the airport and was disgruntled by the reality of the weather. I knew it was coming, but once in it, the full weight of it finally dawned on me. I fished out my $2 snow cap and knit gloves. What a joke. I was okay in the airport, and even okay on the El. From the airport to the El is a long haul, but it's all covered and for the most part there are heat lamps along the way, which are far from a cure-all to cold, but they make it a bit more bearable. I transferred from the Orange Line to the Brown Line-- hauling my 43lb suitcase full of birthday-booty up the stairs and over the tracks, then back down the stairs to get on the correct side. Fortunately, the train came within seconds of when I landed on the correct platform. This is when I got cold. There was only a seat open and it was near the door. So there is where I sat. Each stop with the opening and closing of the door was a harsh reminder of the climate I willingly came back to. We finally arrived to my stop and by then my hands were very very cold-- tingly cold. I live about a quarter mile (ish) from the El stop. Within that quarter mile, I experienced the worst cold-related pain of my life! Halfway through I was trying to scout out a store I could stop in to regain circulation in my poor phalanges. Nothing was open. Not only was it less than 20 below, it was also 10:30 at night. I coached myself each block.. 'come on, come on, almost there, come on.' At the alley behind my apartment I broke. I HAD to stop and put my hands in my armpits (Superstar style). But that was to no avail. By this time, my hands were NUMB. I jumped around and whimpered and tried to shake life back into them and realized that it was just going to get worse the longer I stayed there. I couldn't move my hands, they were foreign objects attached to my shrinking stump of an arm. I used my KNEES to make my fingers wrap around the handles of my suitcases then sent out the signal 'squeeze' praying that the ice cubes would respond. I started walking and was pleasantly surprised to hear my luggage rolling behind me. I tried running then slipped and caught myself. After eternity I reached the back door of my apartment. Using my teeth, I took the knit glove off of my hand to find a shriveled blue, white and red thing staring back at me. I shoved it into my pocket and heard my keys jangle. By the grace of God alone, I got the door open. It took at least four full minutes. I felt like I was losing consciousness. Somehow my suitcases ended up inside the back door and I raced up to unlock the door to my unit. I spilled into the dining room, panting and trying to shake life back into my hands which were SO numb except for a deep throbbing pain. My poor roommate who was trying to welcome me back was witness to my frantic-ness. I muttered something about being so cold, left the back door open, and scurried to my bedroom. As my hands warmed they hurt SO BAD. SO SO BAD. I danced around, shook them, tried to move my fingers. Nothing was helpful. I needed a distraction, so I went back for my luggage. It was still very cold (duh). I finally got everything into my bedroom and just started crying! I don't want to be here! I don't want to be cold! I don't want to go back to work! There is NOTHING for me in this city! Fortunately, I quickly tired and after letting my family know I had survived the journey, I went to bed. I was so exhausted, but again couldn't sleep. I had no trouble sleeping at home. NONE. I think I can't sleep in Chicago.
If it hadn't been for that coat, I would have frozen to death. Thanks, Dad.

I woke up today and started researching my options. We'll see what comes of it.

All in all an anticlimactic post, but I am overwhelmed by the trauma of the journey.

How SAD!

I'm in the airport on my way back to Antarctica. I got home from spinning last night and my dad said 'let's go get you a winter coat.' This is very unlike him; while he is an incredibly generous man, he is a determined father, too.. teaching me to be independent and to use my resources wisely so that I may live safely and healthily. I've lived in Chicago for over four years now, and perhaps the message was finally received, I won't buy a winter coat, even if it means being super cold. Stubborn? Maybe. But I knew/know the consequences and developed coping mechanisms regardless of how effective they were. I guess he looked up the temperature in Chicago and it is supposed to be NEGATIVE TEN degrees before windchill. That flushes my coping mechanisms down the toilet and laughs at me. So at 8pm the night before I leave, we ventured out to get a coat. And a fine coat we got-- on sale, no less!

That being said-- it's negative ten degrees which means it's negative 20 something when windchill is factored in and I don't care who you are-- windchill is very real and deserves reverence and respect. I may have been desperately hoping for something dramatic to happen that would prevent my return. Nothing yet. Keep your fingers crossed.

One of the best things about the Portland Airport is free wireless.

I went to the gym this morning and when I scanned my card it alerted the desk attendant that today is the last day of my temporary membership. "Oh! How SAD!" She said. I don't really know this one, but I was taken aback at how genuine she seemed. I replied with a groggy 'tell me about it.' As I left, she made a frowny face at me and said 'Well... goodbye, then.' Very odd. Yet incredibly appropriate because it IS very sad to not be going back to that gym for a while. It is absolutely fantastic.

I have a layover in Utah (could this trip BE any worse?! (to be said in a Chandler Bing tone)). So I'm sure I'll have something to say by then.

Home Sweet Home

I breathe easier outside of the city. Literally.

I am enjoying being home. I enjoy the 50 degree weather a lot. I'm trying not to ruin my time here by thinking about how much I don't want to go back. But each day that passes brings the inevitable closer.

I LOVE the gym here. It's ridiculous, every time I come back I like it more and more. I even considered (for maybe thirty seconds) moving back to this city so I can use it regularly. There are apartment complexes RIGHT by it, and when you sign a lease there you get a free membership. And there's a bus stop close by so if I worked at the hospital here then I could just hop a ride. But the hospital here leaves much to be desired. Rats. Do I work for a great hospital or do I live somewhere where the rest of my life is in order? Bah. Everyone is very friendly at this gym, but not to the point where they're invading your life. I went to spinning and luckily it was with my favorite instructor ever. For the first time in far too long I've enjoyed exercising again. And it's not over crowded. Sure, there's the after-work rush blah blah blah, but it's not to the point where one can't function. That perhaps is key.

The idea of living in a big city is more exciting than actually doing it. The excitement, hustle and bustle, and potential for opportunity is enough to make one say 'the cold is worth it.' But it's not. There really is no excitement unless you can afford it, people hustle and bustle because they WILL freeze to death if they don't, and potential for some opportunity is so wishy washy. I like the city for the fact that it's known. When I say "I live in Chicago," I don't have to add on '...it's an hour south of here' or '...it's close to this bigger-cooler place.' People know Chicago. But whatever impresses them about it doesn't negate the factors of day to day life there that make it disgusting to me.

I want to say that if I had a car, everything would be different. I would be able to get places without dancing with hypothermia, I'd be much more independent, and could do what I want without consulting the bus and train schedule and my pocket book to see if there's El fare (which increased with the new year-- $2.50 a ride now, by the way). But I know when one focuses on one thing, saying 'if only I could get this one thing, life would be awesome,' then it always leads to disappointment. So I know a car won't solve my problems and that inevitably it'd create new ones, but hiking to the El and jogging in place on the platform and searching for cash are all things I could live without.

Family gathering in t minus three hours. It's good to be home. And I don't want to go back.

Get Me Outta Here!!

I don't care if I chose it-- I am not loving living in Chicago.

I realize that no location will ever be perfect, but other locations won't be this cold-- and from the frigid temps stem all of my discontentments with this city.

Fortunately I am leaving it for nine glorious days.

I don't have a lot to say. Running is running. It sucks being out of shape. And even when in shape it's a challenge enough to convince myself to run after a 12 hour shift. Being out of shape makes the mountain much steeper and less fun/fulfilling/etc.
Needless to say the 8k in Seattle is out. Makes me angry. Both because I won't be ready for it and because I wasn't taken seriously when proposing the idea of something I'd like to do for my birthday. Whatever, I aim to please.

Two more work shifts before I go. Phew! I was supposed to be done yesterday, then I'd scheduled PTO because I was supposed to be in Ethiopia... but when that fell through I picked up New Years (holiday pay, please) and then was off from the 2nd-17th. I'm not leaving until the 6th and I couldn't imagine what I'd do between the 2nd and 6th or rationalize taking vacation time to just sit around... so I asked to work the 4th and 5th. Now I'm kicking myself. I wish with all of my being that I could be done for a while... heaven knows I have enough laundry and cleaning/packing to do to keep me occupied for 4 days. Whatever. Might as well put in as much time as possible. It's kinda nice to feel busy again.

On my way to Costco to set up my membership! I'm grateful there is a bus that will drop me off 0.2 miles from the glorious store. I'm somewhat concerned as to how it will be lugging all the bulk-booty back on the bus, but whatever-- no one has a car they'll let me drive and I'm tired of waiting to pal along with someone who'll go with me. Boca burgers and yogurt GALORE, here I come!

1 mile. YES!

Tuesday morning, after work, I rushed downtown to go to my follow appointment regarding my f-o-o-t, which yes, has become a four-letter-F-word. I was so tired and a teensy bit cranky after a long shift-- a perfect way to walk into an appointment with my FAVORITE orthopaedic doctor. (I'm hoping you pick up on the sarcasm).
To keep it brief:
I was 20 minutes late (I called to let them know.. still disrespectful to be late, I know I know).
MD stumbled in and said "I'm waiting for the nurse to get my notes from last time.."
...he got impatient and then said "What'd we do with you...?"
me: "You booted me"
MD: "Ah boot." (looks for the boot on my leg, which wasn't there as I was instructed to remove it by the nurse). "No more boot then?"
me: "Noo I've been wearing it, it's here."
MD: "Oh you're still in the boot." (enter nurse w/ note which MD reads out loud.)
Heavy sigh "Well, let's re-xray." (Exit MD).

An x-ray tech came, we x-rayed, returned to the exam room. Another 20 minutes. Then MD is walking by and glances in the exam room I'm in (they keep the doors open there-- my theory is that they don't want to rooms to be STUNK UP by the exposed feet.) As he sees I'm there he pokes his head in and says "Your foot is fine," and continued walking. I went to retrieve him from the hallway. That's not a good enough answer for me. So he came into the exam room and explained that there's a small bony callous so I'm healed, re-start activity gradually blah blah blah.

Despite his lack of bed-side manner, I was elated. I would have booked it to the gym right then and there to board the treadmill, but the fact of the matter was I was exhausted and fighting to stay awake! So I put on TWO shoes (I'd brought the other one with me in anticipation of booting the boot) and went home and collapsed. Just before I fell asleep I remembered I had a war to fight with Blue Cross Blue Shield regarding their coverage of my narcolepsy drugs, so I couldn't go to sleep quite yet, but knowing that I was again bi-pedal gave me the energy I needed to fight and win that war. WooHoo.

So today I ventured down to my overcrowded gym. Last week I went at 2am because my sleep schedule is SO messed up and it was awesome. There were maybe 20 people there total, it was essentially deserted. If I had a car, I'd definitely go at the wee hours of the morning more often. But walking to the El at 2am makes me nervous. Maybe now that the Damen stop will be open it won't be so bad. Anyways-- I ran a mile today! Woohoo!. Seven minutes and twenty seconds of bliss. My foot felt fine. Honestly it was numb because of the cold trek from the El... but no pain. Maybe a whisper of a twinge, but I would be a fool to think it'd be a cake walk. I was definitely winded and I could feel the past three weeks in my legs, but any anguish brought by that was balanced with the excitement that I'm doing what I like to do again. I could have gone more than a mile, but I am proud to say that I said "NO," and allowed myself to be content with that. I did a 5 minute walk to warm up, and a 7 minute walk to cool down. I went over to the elliptical and at ten minutes... my vision went black and it sounded like I was underwater and I felt my trachea closing!!! Holy toledo if I am fainting after maybe 20 minutes of cardio, my work is more cut out for me than I anticipated! Geesh! That was weird. I think I'll chalk it up to dehydration, Lord knows I'm nourished enough to withstand 20 minutes of cardio! But I could increase my water intake... and decrease my coffee intake. Whoopsie.

All in all exciting and encouraging. I'm trying to decide if I should do a mile tomorrow or take tomorrow off. I don't think I have the fitness to complete a spinning class right now (how pathetic am I?!?!?!), so that's kinda outta the question. We'll see. I'll probably end up not since I'm working tomorrow night. I miss cardio so much it's ridiculous.

INSOMNIA

between working the night shift and living a very sedentary life, i have developed insomnia. yes-- that is right, from narcolepsy to insomnia, even when off my drugs.
and while it blows not being able to sleep... I've gotten some stuff done. there are finally pictures on the walls of my bedroom.. and i wrote two cards... and okay well that's it, but still at least i did something. it's 5:04am... i woke up 21 hours ago and have only had one cup of coffee. I did, however zonk out for a good three hours after church. I was in a good rhythm with my sleep cycle before this whole night shift thing came up. Shoot.

I need a new planner.

I found an 8k in Washington on January 11th. 8k by January 11th is a very practical and attainable goal, and something that will help me keep my focus as I come off this whole foot thing. It'd be a 3ish hour drive from home. I think it'd be the perfect birthday weekend-- go up and stay there (I found a super cheap townhouse on Craigslist that ISN'T some creepy person renting out a room-- it's a company that does temporary housing...) I could do my run and my family and I could hit up Seattle and peruse. Seeing as how I've been saying for the past 4+ years that if I ever end up settling down, I'll settle in Seattle I think it's only prudent that I actually visit first. We'll see, convincing the potential travel buddies is always the hardest part.

...maybe..

Maybe... it's a good thing that success in running will require me to start super slow for super short distances, because the truth of the matter is, I don't have the fitness to do anything but that. As much as I WANT to go run miles upon miles until the sun goes down, I will feel victorious if I can hit the 1 mile mark without walking. I walked (hoofed) home from the grocery store (I rode the bus THERE, but couldn't bring myself to drop a full $4 for the TRANSPORTATION to/from the venue where I'd just spend more money... along the trek back I realized I should have walked there when my bag was empty as opposed to when it was filled with heavy produce..), and the mile and a half WALK left me winded and sweaty. Humbling. Upsetting. Frustrating. Yet-- oddly comforting. If I felt I had the cardio fitness to run far and fast, I would have an extra hard time sticking to a slow and steady buildup. Somehow it is good to know that no matter how badly I want to run like I used to, I can't... so in other words, I can't screw this up with my neurotic need to go faster for longer.

That, my friends, is how I have to look at it in order to have any good feelings about anything in life.

Tuesday morning (immediately after a night shift...) I venture down to Dr. Does-Nothing-But-Ruin-Lives and pray that he says 'boot-be-gone.' Heaven knows I said it a while ago. suckaaaaaaa. Then I will start to climb Everest. All in a day.

Mountain Climbing???

Whenever I come back to this site, I see that picture of the run leg in Accenture and think 'I cannot wait until I can look like that again.'
This injury has highlighted my vain side.
Today was the first time in a while that I felt eager to start running again. That may sound shocking, as I always preach that I looove to run blah blah blah-- so of course I'd be eager, right? Wrong. I love running when I'm in shape. I love running when I don't feel like I'm going to throw up and then faint. Now that it has been almost three whole weeks since I set (broken) foot on a treadmill, I am the most out of shape I have been...ever. A very daunting mountain is standing strongly before me, daring me to try and climb it. Having run out of my narco drugs over a week ago, my energy levels are so far down that I see the mountain and say '...maybe later.' But for some reason, today is different. I know I have to be uber cautious when I am cleared to run again and that I have to start super short and slow and very gradually work up to it. But today I felt ready to start that ascent. I guess it's a step in the right direction.. or something? We'll see if the same enthusiasm is present when I can actually do something about it.

A friend of mine texted me today saying she wants to do an Ironman (she is a former soccer freak (more than yours truly) that recently had knee surgery and was told soccer days are over.. something about the side to side motion and cartilige.. but she can still run). I said 'real smart ten days after surgery' in reply to which she said 'well not tomorrow. can I convince you do to it with me?' Duh. Of course. I still want to do a half ironman next year. I'm starting to think that TNT is my best choice. There's no way in the world I could prepare myself for something like that without the help of a program or coach. TNT is the only one that will just cost me my pride as opposed to my $$$ (or lack thereof). Asking people for money is something I'm still not interested in, but I was thinking since I have all this spare time, maybe I can get more creative in fundraising and try doing an event or something. Who knows what I'll decide, but I've gotta figure something out- sooner than later. And I need a new bike.

Firsts

These past couple of weeks have presented a lot of firsts:

*First time that I have neglected exercise for more than 2 days. Try two weeks.
*First time my patient/their family requested I not be their nurse.
*First time I 100% all around regretted my decision to stay in this city.
*First time I haven't been motivated to get up and DO anything.
*First time I've been excited to go to work-- because it's the only activity in my life.
*First time I've made online TV viewing a regular activity in my day to day life.


Post-academia isn't turning out to be what I imagined it. I rested my excitement for this stage in my life on the thought that I'd be able to work and workout-- that was all I really cared about. Now that I can't workout the way I want, I have all too much time to just sit here and realize the many other aspects of life that my plan neglected, and that I have failed to develop the life skills necessary to fulfill said aspects.

I signed up to work all of the holidays in order to avoid the inevitable lonely cloud that would hang over me if I were sitting in my freezing apartment. But not even running around the hospital trying to pretend like I know what's going on has been able to distract me from the fact that my 'situation' isn't what I want it to be/thought it would be. I know I'm the only one who has any ability/authority/power to change it, but I don't know how-- and even worse, I cannot say with confidence that even if I did know how, that I'd have the gall and desire to do it.

I am grateful for my job. Genuinely I am very grateful.
I am grateful for the (expensive) roof over my head, and even though it's an ungodly low temperature, it's warmer than outside.
I am grateful for the fact that I have room in my budget for food-- even if I can't make myself go get it from the store.
I am grateful that I have clothes to wear-- even if I put off washing them until my only other option is nakedness.

I am a very very fortunate person.

%)(*#$@_!

I am VERY upset.

I ventured downtown yesterday to see what is up with my foot. It has been a month since it started hurting and usually it's resolved by now. Truthfully, the day and a half before (late Sunday and Monday), it felt a lot better. I considered cancelling the appointment but didn't get around to it and there's the ridiculous 24 hour cancellation policy blah blah blah. So I went. I don't like doctors. This clown was arrogant and didn't let me tell him about my foot at all. He only wanted to most brittle skeleton of what the problem was. He was more interested in the fact that I have narcolepsy. HELLO YOU'RE AN ORTHOPAEDIC DOCTOR, FIGURE IT OUT. After the x-ray he said stress fracture (which I am still INCREDIBLY SKEPTICAL ABOUT) and said we have two options: we can boot you or cast you. I wanted to say 'screw you' and leave, but instead I sat there with my eyes bugging out and my jaw on the floor. Any voice I once had booked it out the door and I just sat there silently, thinking many things: THIS IS A MUSCULAR ISSUE I AM SURE OF IT. All I need is some PT to get it ultrasounded away and slowly re-strengthened back to normal. Honestly-- the history does not support the diagnosis: comparatively to what I have run in years past, my mileage as of late has been FAR LESS. Shamefully less. RIDICULOUSLY less. There has been essentially no 'stress' on my 5th metatarsal. If I were going to get a stress fracture I would have gotten it when I was running 50 miles a week. The thought crossed my mind at one point but I quickly came to my senses and dismissed it like any half-way intelligent individual would and SHOULD. HELLO. At some point during my catatonic state he decided boot over cast (lucky for him, I woulda REALLY snapped if he tried plastering my leg, my WORD). I remember shaking his hand (and the hand of chipper med student that was there without my permission-- whatever, I would have said yes if he asked, but it's the principle) and then they left. A nurse-- a very kind nurse, came in a few minute later as I slowly thought about returning to the land of speaking and showed me the HIDEOUS thing called a boot. Patiently she explained it. I am grateful that she gave me a small insert for my opposite shoe, as this ungodly large hunk of plastic raises me significantly higher than my shoes, so the insert will even it out a little and hopefully save my back. I remember thinking 'I hate being the patient.' The teaching she was doing was incredibly similar to what I do at work: go teach parents how to put a tube down their baby's nose so it can be fed, teach parents how to give antibiotics to their child via a central line, teach parents how to give injections to their kids... The patient (or parents) have just been dealt a life-altering diagnosis (big or small) and are trying to deal with it, get around it, change it, deny it in any way possible. It's so hard to absorb anything that is being said to you. Even if it is 'how to use the velcro on your boot.' I couldn't absorb it at all. Fortunately for me it is a rather simple contraption. Anyways. For three weeks I'm stuck with this absolutely unnecessary thing. It was supposed to be four but I lied to the rescheduling lady and said three (only when I was walking out did I regain some of my fight). I don't know what this means. Can I take it off to ride my bike? Can I still swim? Can I spin? How am I supposed to do the leg press with this thing? 6 Pack attack with a sumo-leg? Can I take it off then? I went to work for four awful hours yesterday-- that was a treat. Try being quiet around a sleeping baby with what essentially is a club foot. I was so grumpy at work and then I got the CRAPPIEST assignment ever and of course was up for first admission which happened two minutes and thirty seconds after getting report on my other kids. Then of course the new admission needs an IV started right away and labs sent. Another nurse was kindly in there to try to help speed things along and filled the tubes with the blood and lo and be hold not long after they were sent the lab calls and says "there was not enough sample to run the test, please redraw." YOU go in there and STICK THE BABY, clown! UGH IT WAS THE WORST NIGHT EVER. AND when I got there the manager says 'hey can you stay until 11?' I said 'sure' because the only plans I had were to go home and mope. So mentally I was there for 8 hours instead of 4, then at 6 she comes up to me and says 'Nevermind you can go home at 7.' WTF. Fine, I won't beg to stay at work, but when you have 8 hours you plan your evening very differently than if you have 4. So I was running around like a crazy lady trying to get everything done, meds given, charting completed, bags hung, rooms clean and organized then all of the sudden two of the night shift nurses were waiting for me. I HATE THAT. Usually I get everything ready, check the chart to make sure everything was signed and accomplished, update the kardex, get everything super organized and ready because it is the worst to start your shift amidst chaos. And chaos is what I handed two of my friendly co-workers. Ugh. I could go on, but I will refrain as I am sure this has gone on for far too long.

I am so angry and there is nothing anyone can say or do to make it better.

A new foot for Thanksgiving, please.

There are three runs I've seen on calendars that I want to participate in:

1) Turkey Trot in Lincoln Park on Thanksgiving
2) Jingle Bell something or other
3) Cascade Half Marathon in Oregon on January 11th.

If my right foot weren't so useless I'd register right now for all three. However, it is a sad excuse for a foot and isn't serving me properly.
On Tuesday, after my appointment with some doctor to figure out my foot, I'll decide about the Turkey Trot. I'm determined to do the Jingle one and as long as my foot isn't anything serious, the half marathon, too.
I ran that race last year on my birthday, and despite the fact that I died at mile 11.5 and experienced extreme disorientation due to low blood sugar, it was good. Honestly the best way I've spent my birthday ever since an awesome rainbow icecream cake when I was like six. That's a lie, I had some awesome birthdays in high school-- surprise party for 16th, surprise gathering for my 18th and an Arthur cake-- perfection. I don't think I'm a big birthday person. I liked running that race on my birthday because I like running.

I figure if I'm really going to do a half ironman next year I need to get more comfortable with running 13 miles. The only reason I was able to putz through the 6 miles at the end of Accenture is because running six miles wasn't a big deal before hand. Had I just started running with training for the triathlon, or if six had been a big deal, the run leg would have been more dismal than it actually was. I need my stupid foot to figure it's life out so I can start slowly but surely building my mileage and make 13 miles a regular thing in my life. Maybe once or twice a week? I don't know. This is why I need a personal trainer or a training program for a half ironman. A legit one that won't just get me to the finish line but one that will get me to the finish line in a decent time, one that will challenge me to do my absolute best.

So, we'll see. Pray for my foot. It kills.

Sure, that'd be great.

Today for work we had a class-- PALS (Pediatric Advanced Life Support) which I was sure would get me fired, as when I studied I learned that I'd need to be able to insert an ET tube, IO catheter and other heinously crazy things that are so far beyond my scope of practice I couldn't even think about pretending to fake my way through them. So the whole week I'd conjured up a peptic ulcer as I obsessed over the fact that I would be 'that girl' who obviously shouldn't be a nurse and somehow slipped through every crack possible from day one in nursing school to being hired at the esteemed institution of which I am an employee.
My alarm went off this morning, but lo and behold I didn't hear it. Anticipating this event (as it has happened frequently over the past months), I'd asked a friend to text me to make sure I was up. Why I heard the "beep" followed by a buzz from her text and not the train whistles, crowds applauding, and bells ringing for the entire hour before is beyond me. I figured it was an appropriately awful start to what would be an awful and humiliating day-- first confirmed by the fact that as I biked my heart out down busy rush hour Chicago streets, I realized I'd forgotten my lunch.

However, as the day went on, I was pleasantly surprised.

In my anxiety I studied for this class a lot. More than I studied in nursing school. Well, maybe not, but after so long of not studying it felt brutal. So I actually knew what they were talking about. So refreshing. And apparently I don't have to know how to do crazy things such as ET tubes and IO's... but I still got to practice putting an IO in on a chicken leg-- just to 'know what it feels like and know the process' in case I ever help with one or something. (PS chicken legs are sick and they smell awful). I was still bummed about my lunch, though, and decided to just go with some people to where they were eating (because they said 'Kristin, do you want to come with us?' and in my head I said 'OMG YES. YES I DO. I WOULD LOVE TO GO WITH PEOPLE. ANYONE. ANYWHERE.' but I actually responded with 'Sure, that'd be great'). On our way to some restaurant with the word 'pig' in it, we passed a woman handing out cards on the sidewalk. Usually I try to do an about-face and walk around the block the other way to avoid interactions with solicitors, but our group of four was less than sly like that. She handed us these coupons and said "Do you want a free sandwich?" YES. I mean, sure-- that'd be great. A new Mediterranean restaurant opened right across the street from the hospital and they wanted people to come try their food (there are about 8,000 restaurants within an eighth of a mile of the hospital.. I imagine business is pretty competitive..) So we decided to nix the pig (praise the LORD), and head over to Nesh (the new place). As I read the coupon it said it was good for a free Schwarama (sp?) sandwich. I read what that was-- lamb or chicken on pita. Awesome. So I just asked if I could have a different sandwich with the coupon (vegetarian options are always cheaper than meaty options anyways) and the guy said yes. HOORAY. Free lunch and nice people to eat it with. YES PLEASE.
We went back to the class after our glorious hour of eating (yes a whole hour, compared to two minutes here, five minutes there working on the floor). We went through stations and what not then got out at 3:15-- an hour and 45 minutes earlier than we were supposed to! YES PLEASE.
So I decided to go to the gym and at least lift-- I've been slacking so much in anything regarding exercise, and lifting is one I can't rationalize. And it is painfully obvious that I need to pick that up again. So I went, kind of reluctantly because that's a very busy time for the place typically. However, it was quieter than I anticipated. Wonderful. I lifted and dodged GI Ponytail (who has converted in to GI Bun) SIX TIMES. Seriously this lady stalks me or something. I was done lifting and contemplating running. My foot kills. I can't even get over it. When I have to talk myself into running, there is a problem. I have an appointment to get some medical advice (if they say ice and advil I'll kill 'em) but that's not til the 25th! So that leaves a solid week and a half. I decided to look at the group fitness schedule and lo and behold there was a spinning class coming right up. So I did that. It was the second spinning class I've done at this gym. The first wasn't awesome (hence the lack of follow through) mainly because the instructor was really unenthusiastic and not super great at spinning herself so, for me, that makes it hard to like feel good about it. I don't know. So I was warming up and the same instructor walked in and my heart sank. I decided to stay, though, because I needed to exercise, and this was my only real opportunity if I wanted to save my foot a little bit. It was a lot better than the one before. She's still not awesome (and I still miss the Courthouse more than words can ever articulate-- shoutout Heidi and Audra-- they're PHENOMENAL spinning instructors), but I felt better than I would have if I'd skipped cardio. It felt good to do a challenging workout that didn't make me want to amputate my dominant foot.

So that's that. My foot hurts and it's not getting better. I ran 2 miles yesterday and had to stop because all I could visualize was my fifth metatarsal breaking more and more with each step. I let my imagination get the best of me sometimes, I'll admit it. But it hurts so much and takes any endorphins or good feelings that come with running and kills them. Very sad. Even the fancy new shoes didn't help! =(

All in all, a better day than I'd anticipated. However the test for this class is tomorrow afternoon, so I guess we'll see how that ends up then. Maybe the instructor will say 'no, you don't need to take the exam, you're super smart.' To which I'd think in my head 'HA! you're crazy, but okay sucker!' but I'd actually respond 'Sure, that'd be great.'

Brrrrrr

I surprisingly held up my 'won't run till my new shoes come' statement. I swam and biked a lot over those four days. My new shoes came in their pink and orange glory (these are the color I wanted originally, but the store didn't have when I bought a pair awhile ago for the triathlon). So the next day I ran after work. Then I ran the next morning and my foot still hurts. A lot. WHYYYYY. It seriously irritates me when something hurts bad enough to limit me from what I want to do. After I ran for the first time, it wasn't awful, but after running the next morning it was. So maybe I just need to ease back into it or something..? I hate that. Frustrating.

When I ran Saturday morning, it was with the Fleet Feet Fun Run. A group meets at Fleet Feet- Lincoln Square every Monday and Wednesday evening, and Saturday mornings to go on a run that can be 3,4,5, or 6 miles. I'd like to go with them more often. I popmpously thought 'Oh pacing won't be a big deal, I might be towards the front of the pack,' remembering TNT training. But 8 people showed up to run (a fair turnout considering the freezing weather-- well almost, it was 38, feels like 8). But no one there was slow. I guess people who go on fun runs are usually good runners. Shoot. But I can see it being good motivation to go running as that has been hard to come by lately. And if you go to 10 runs, you get a free shirt. Yes please.

The weather is getting colder. I walked to church this morning (the whole block and a half) and there were snow flurries. I hate it when it gets cold, and the coming of winter has solidified my plan to move away from this city next October. I kinda wish I could leave now.

I chopped my hair off. I'd wanted to do it since June, but didn't want to endure the triathlon with short hair that couldn't be contained, then the same applied for the half marathon a week ago. So now that it's over, I found a salon that would cut it for free if I donated 10 inches to Locks of Love. I'm broke as a joke (not a funny one at that), so I jumped on the opportunity. It's hard to run with short hair. There aren't enough clips in the world to contain my mop. Shoot. It isn't ponytail length despite my very clear and specific instruction to 'maintain ponytial length.' What can ya do, good thing it grows, eh? That has been the latest development in my absolutely THRILLING life.

People keep asking me what big race I'm going to do next and I don't know what to say to them.
There aren't a lot of races happening because it's freezing, and to be honest, my foot hurts. I can't really train for something right now because if I run my foot hurts and that is not conducive to anything good. I'm pretty sure I still want to do a half ironman next year (which one, where, every necessary detail, I dont' know) I think it's what I'd like to do. I'd need a training program, though. TNT does one in Michigan-- Steelhead, but I don't know if I can fundraise again. Fundraising for Accenture taught me a lot and I saw a lot of cool things happen, and I wouldn't change that experience for the world, but I don't know how I feel about hitting up people for money all the time. Even if it doesn't go to me, asking people for money is the last activity I'd choose... ever. So we'll see I guess. I kinda don't like it when people ask me what I'm training for because then I feel like I should be training for something and then when I admit 'nothing' I feel like I'm not doing as much as I could be or something.

I just want to leave Chicago. I want to go to California, and yes for the nice weather. Call me lame and whatever because I am just like every other shallow clown out there, but I seirously cannot handle this cold. And it's still in the 30's which is TROPICAL compared to what it will be soon.
Pray for me.