My boobs still hurt from my mammogram last Wednesday . . . I understand mammograms are important, but is pancake flat really necessary?
And the sore boobs only add to the lovely acne I have. I feel like I’m going through a second puberty and I look like a pizza. A pizza no one would want to eat because it hasn’t showered in three days. A pizza who had a plastic fork gut their uterus nearly a year ago and should not have PMS anymore.
This might also explain the magically disappearing bottle of wine and bag of chocolate covered almonds. And cheese ball. And the reappearing 5 or 8 pounds hanging around my gut making it look like I’m about to give birth to a toddler.
It’s really, really awful PMS. And it’s bad to say, but it’s kind of amusing to watch Michael tip toe around the house anticipating something horrible to come out of my mouth because he did something tragic like not turn the Christmas lights on in time or forget to brush the Aussie’s butts before they came in the house so they could wipe their own butts on the very expensive area rug.
I’m going to be optimistic and say it’s not PMS but early menopause. Because that would mean there is an end to this tragic roller coaster of hormonal death.
Are there any benefits to getting old? Because I feel like I should strip down naked and run through the streets warning all the teenagers of the world to take a good look and STOP AGING, because this hideous amount of geriatric insanity is just not worth it.
Okay, I’m done. I’m not qualified to get old. It’s irritating.
But buying shoes helps.
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I really didn’t want to race today. Really. Did. Not. Want. To. This monster month of marathon training is adding up to a whole bunch of tired. I know, it’s supposed to be that way and because of it I’m going to run a really fast marathon. Or at least that’s the plan.
Michael and I took Kenza to the local homecoming football game last night; Kenza had a blast, but we didn’t get home until late and I took a Tylenol PM to help me sleep – that was my first mistake. I just could not wake up this morning.
My second mistake was not having my race gear ready the night before. I used up all my race bib safety pins on Kenza’s spirit wear for the game. You give the girl something to cheer for and she goes all out, face-paint, colored hair, cow bell and 40 safety pins worth of spirit-attached attire in all. I admire her spunk, but it left me rummaging around on her bedroom floor at 4:30 in the morning, in the dark, trying to find her clothes from last night to recover at least 2 safety pins.
My third mistake was being constipated. I’m not sure how that is a mistake, but I was and I’m sure on some level it affected my race time. Or is that effected? FYI – spelling and grammar are way over-rated.
Richie and I met in the parking lot and headed over to the start line where I got to meet Kevin from 5ks and Cabernets. I love that blog title, and what a super nice wine-drinking guy he was. Richie said Kevin was really fast, so we move back in the pack a little.
Okay, so despite every step of this race being a struggle, I ran halfway decent. Probably slow for Richie, but respectable for me. I could go into a lot of details about how we had great weather, and how the second half was really hilly, and how I didn’t walk at all except for a few seconds during water breaks, and how Richie saved me from emanate death when I was nearly run over by a car around mile nine. (Note to self: turn volume on ipod down in traffic) And I could tell you that we ran negative splits almost the entire way. But what I mostly want to tell you is that the last mile we ran in 8 minutes and 18 seconds. For real. Seriously.
It was a PR 20k day. 2 hours, 3 minutes and 22 seconds.
My doubtful self asked Richie about 20 times how he thought I’d do in Chicago based on the last two races we’ve run together. He seemed pretty confidant that I’ll do well. After today’s race with the negative splits and 8:18 last mile, I’m thinking it might be possible to run faster than a 5-hour marathon. God, I hope so.
Yeah, I know, it looks like Cherry Berry styled my hair.
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I’m running close to 40 miles a week. I’m sprinting. I’m lifting weights. I’m riding . . . and yet I can’t get rid of that effing muffin top! If I had trained like I am now when I was in my 20s I would have been kicking some serious ass.
Now I just have ass.
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Between running, leg torture, track torture, cycling and those awful swim workouts – I’ve been getting in nearly 14 hours a week of exercise – which means I’ve been washing my hair more than ever; sometimes even twice a day. (Go personal hygiene!) Mix in the Texas sun, heat, and salt from the pool water and I’ve got myself some seriously bad hair. Mostly frizziness, dryness and all around out-of-control this is not a good look for date-night hair.
But I’ve found a great shampoo and conditioner, Drench by Sebastian, and I love it. Its very light and moisturizing; a rare combination for shampoo and conditioner. It’s also a little pricey – $13.00, but for me, not having over-fluffy hair on date night is worth $13.00. The bad thing is the bottles are pretty small; my bottles only lasted a month.
Just doing my part to share the love, Internet people.
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Sometimes I get so worried about over-sleeping when I need to wake up at 4AM that I can’t even sleep and wake up on the hour every hour until the alarm goes off. Last night was no exception, except that I agreed to sleep in the guest room as to not wake Michael and bed full of dogs at 4AM. Scratch that, I don’t mind waking up anyone, except Cherry Berry. Who is always awake. And happy. Cherry Berry is as happy as the happiest clam and loves everyone wildly all the time, 24 hours a day, without exception, even at 4AM. If Cherry were a person, she’d be Elle from Legally Blonde.
Crap, I do this all the time, where was I? Oh, so waking up every hour on the hour . . . when I woke up at 3AM I grabbed the alarm clock (also known as a magic iPhone) to make sure I hadn’t overslept, and I dropped it and somehow it ended up on vibrate, unbeknownst to sleepy me . . . and this was just a really long way to say, I over-slept and didn’t wake -up until 4:55.
I had plans to meet Massoman at 5:15. That gave me 5 minutes to get ready and 15 minutes to drive to meet him. I got there on time, but other than dress myself – I didn’t have time to do anything else, including pee. So the first thing I did when I got to our meeting spot was immediately find a place to pee. And when I got to the pee spot I walked into a huge spider web and started freaking out. If there is one ultimate truth in this universe, it is: if there are webs, there are spiders. And I live life by the philosophy that ALL SPIDERS ARE POISONOUS. As are all snakes. It’s a philosophy that’s never served me wrong. I am living proof.
Anyhow, it took nearly a mile and a half before I was sure that I was imaginary spider free. Finally, when I was closing in on Massoman, I opened my mouth to say “Here I am” and I inhaled a swarm of gnats. And if you think imaginary spiders freak me out, just wait until you see me with REAL LIFE bugs on my body. IN MY BODY. I started heaving. I tried to control it, but there was no stopping it. I started to vomit some lovely green, empty-stomach foamy stuff. Massoman heard gagging and chocking and turned around and asked if I was okay. Of course I was okay. This was just all part and parcel of living in Susan’s World O’ Mental Illness. No big deal.
And really, this is just a long excuse to say, I ran really slow -11:40-minute miles. And only five of those. Tomorrow is Track Torture #1. I hope it goes better than today did.
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Why run a half marathon during the hottest part of the year in Texas? Let me replay the scenario for you.
Rich: Hey Susan, you want to run a half with me in a few weeks?
RS: In August, in Texas, are you crazy?
Rich: Please, please, please, I really need someone to pace me and it’ll be a lot of fun, I promise. I’m begging, pleeeaassse, for me.
RS: But Rich, Coach David has 23 miles on my schedule for that day and Coach David is very serious about my training.
Rich: But Susan, didn’t you know that running 13.1 miles at race pace is exactly like running 23 miles at training pace. It’s totally okay, David will be fine with it.
RS: Really? Okay then, if it will make David happy, count me in.*
When I left the house at 5:00 AM this morning it was 78 degrees with 81% humidity. I reckon when the rain left, it took away those blessed few days of cool mornings. I’m not sure what the temperature was at the start of the race but my feet were already soaked.
Through the first half of the race we kept a really steady pace. Rich announced at the halfway point we were at 1:02 – a 9:27 pace. Awesome, if I could keep this up I knew I could PR, or get really close.
Rich and I parted ways for a bit and then things kind of went like this – it got hotter, it got sunnier, I got sweatier, and I got slower. But I never stopped running – except for a few seconds here and there to sip water because I have yet to figure out that swallowing while running phenomenon that the rest of the world can manage. The important thing here to note is that I ran the whole time, NO WALK BREAKS. That’s a big deal for me.
Somewhere around mile 12.5 Rich and I found each other again. We hugged and shared a special moment before we finished the race together hand-in-hand. Okay, we technically weren’t hand-in-hand, but we did high five as we crossed the finish line in 2:15:58 – a 10:22 pace.
Reality strikes, it was slow. I so much wanted to run a 2-hour half, but I felt I ran really strong. It was fun too, despite the heat: 87 degrees and 57% humidity by the time we finished.
*Conversation may not be accurate to all parties due to recent heat exposure.
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