I ran my 41st half marathon last weekend, the Dallas 13.1 Series. Pretty cool to have run as many as I am old. It’s been a crazy week or I would have posted about it sooner, but Peggy and I had a blast not sweating like pigs because it is 112 degrees outside. The run was good too . . . I didn’t start to even feel it until mile ten. Baby steps, Internet People, baby steps.

After the half, I jumped in the shower and headed north to play with my Martini Twin. But this time playtime was called paint the former bedroom and currently new wine room the color of Cabernet Franc. So, not only did I get lower body workout, my arms and shoulders got a workout too. We did pretty awesome if I do say so myself! Daisy approves, it is her new favorite room.

And now that I am finally rid of my gross bacteria, I have e.coli. [Insert big sigh here] [And big glass of wine here]

Yesterday Peggy and I ran the Tour des Fleurs 20k. It took us a while but we each sweated out the toxins and finished the race. Peggy was fantastic and she could have run much faster, but she was a trooper and stuck with me and my colon. She’s nice like that. I’m okay with going slow for the time being, I haven’t even been wearing a watch because my goal is to just get healthy, have fun and finish. Oh, and as always, we stayed true to the stay cute goal. Look how cute we are in our matchy, matchy TDF shirts:

I really wanted to stay longer after the race and check out the Dallas Arboretum, but our shuttle but was heading out. So, instead I’ll let you tour the RS arboretum. I’ve been making stairs. I put my heart rock collection in the top concreted area – because I’m fancy like that.  It’s only three steps, but I’m so proud of myself – it’s like a staircase to heaven. Except, ya know, it isn’t because they are smack dab in the middle of the gas patch . . . but if I hold my breath and close my ears, I can pretend for just a little while. I should totally take up professional staircase making! Stair making outside the gas patch!! And stair making with extra exclamation points!!!!

September has been massively crazy – mostly due to the stupid bacteria my colon insists on hosting. I just finished my 24th day of medication. The 24th day of what could be the most disgusting medication on Earth. Cross your fingers that it is gone forever. [please. please. please. be gone.]

In an attempt to look better, even if I didn’t feel better, I made a trip to play visit with my twin in Oklahoma.  She gave me a new color and cut and we were super cute and super blonde again! Just look how awesome my hair is! I love it. Michelle’s hair is always cute . . . one of those perks of owning a super-cool salon.

The day after I came home from my much deserved playtime with Michelle, my parents arrived. And I can’t believe I don’t have any photos from their visit. It was nice and relaxed and Kenza got another guitar lesson from Grandpa and my mom and I slaved away at the garden.  I do happen to have photos of the work we did, albeit not sunny ones. More photos to follow in a later post.

And then there has been training. And I won’t lie, it hasn’t been easy . . . the air here has been so bad. Thank goodness Peggy and I head over to the trails to do our long runs. This Saturday we are running the 20k Tour des Fleurs. It is going to be so much fun – just cross your fingers for some cool weather.

Peggy and I had a ten-mile trail run scheduled Sunday. We looked at the map, planned an easy out and back loop and the next morning we left at 6:30AM, found the parking area we were looking for on the first try and began our run with the temperatures of only 76 degrees. I actually thought it might snow because we haven’t seen less than 100 degrees in over two months.

It was fantastic. We were trail-running Goddesses. Until . . . we reached our turning around place and discovered we were already 1 hour and 45 minutes into our run.  Uhhh, not really sure what happened there but considering I get lost backing out of the driveway I think we took a wrong split somehow and ended up going the long way. It’s an 18-mile trail with several shorter loops. I reckon we missed those loops because we ended up doing the whole freaking trail. Not that I’m complaining, but

1. We didn’t bring water for 18 miles
2. We didn’t fuel for 18 miles
3. It was reaching 100 temps again and
4. Four hours later we sat on the side of the road and pouted because not one single person we asked along the trail [and there were many] knew where they were either. And honestly, they really didn’t seem to care. A different breed these trail people.

Finally, I flagged down a cyclist who led us in the right direction.  Turns out we were sitting on the side of the road panicking only about ¼ mile from our car. Although, after running for 18 miles, ¼ mile more seems like forever and during that foreverness, my stomach started to rumble. Rumble in the worst way.

And here is where we begin the disgusting part. About a month ago I started having really weird diarrhea – the kind that makes you seriously consider swallowing a bag of concrete. And not just regular diarrhea, diarrhea supplemented with yellow puss. (See, I told you it was disgusting.) I’m sorry, puss can come out of many orifices in the body, but when it starts coming out of your ass it’s time to call a doctor. Seven specimen containers and a week later [I’ll let you fill in the blanks] I discover my colon is the lucky host of a toxic-producing bacteria called Clostridium difficile.

The most popular ways this bacteria can come into your life are like this:

1. Antibiotics for other infections can kill the good bacteria and the bad bacteria, AKA c. difficile, take over – re: of which I took amoxicillin after a recent sinus infection.
2. From hospital stays because c. difficile is resistant to most disinfectants commonly used in hospitals – re: hysterectomy and removal of giant tumors from my gut in April.
3. From nursing homes or long-term care facilities for the same reason – re: 17 days of sitting with my grandmother in long-term care as she was dying last January.

So there we have it. It’s just all around ugly. And unpredictable. Now I’m on a horrible medication called metronidazole, of which the side effects include: rash, itch, flushing, fever, bloating, headache, dizziness, vomiting, dark urine, loss of appetite and paraesthesia.  And guess what? I have all the side effects EXCEPT the loss of appetite one. I feel worse on this medication than I did without it. Not to mention how I feel when the wind blows some frack air this way. Oh, AND as a special bonus – no wine while on this medication. A girl just can’t win.

I’ve been able to manage running and my colon on short distances . . . but 18 miles? Lets get back to the rumbling. I threw my toxic-infected, rumbling gut into the hot, hot car – soaking wet, covered in dirt and salt, more tired than anything you can image – and then I couldn’t figure out how to find the potty area. Impending emergency and I saw the potty but somehow drove through the gates and passed them. Perhaps I was delirious. Anyhow, a little bit of speeding and an illegal U-turn later I ended up at a filling station just in time not to humiliate myself and save Peggy from what could have been a near life-altering experience.

Why am I telling you all of this? Because running an unplanned 18 miles on the trails, while residing in a toxic gas town, with a toxic-producing bacteriafied colon and toxic-side effecting medication, uphill both ways, in Texas heat, didn’t just earn me a dirt tan, I now own that dirt tan.

I think we might be ready for our half in September! Woo Hoo. Go us – even though we walked 6 of those miles – we finished 18 miles. La, la, la. Trail girls rule!

All of you who keep up with my blog know about our battle for clean air and water. These past few weeks the heat and the air have been particularly rank. We are on day 35 of 100+ degree weather – many days of which have been 105-110. On Tuesday of this week Peggy and I went to do our training run and were quickly over come by fumes that were so horrendous we were chocking back vomit and cyclists coming that direction were saying to turn around and run the other way. I can’t even explain how bad it was – worse than sulfur, tires burning and a boat load of vomit all mixed together. It was brain-numbing, to say the least. For days after that run my sweat smelled like ammonia and I was seeing spots. I’m guessing the combination of record breaking temperatures and a gas processing facility in the middle of a residential neighborhood are a bad combination. Go figure?

After filing complaints with TCEQ we were told the gas processing facility was repairing a compressor and during the process they were venting natural gas directly in the air. Mind you, these aren’t your everyday compressors. These are the big boys, the kind that make you pee your pants. Undeniably massive. Cannot. Get. Any. Bigger. Massive. Did you know that venting natural gas directly into the air is perfectly acceptable. Yeah, I know. It sounds like BS but this is Texas and it really is okay to do that here. Four hours after our complaint TCEQ investigators arrived and their toxic vapor analyzer was reading 223 ppb. Freaking shocking.

So what’s a girl to do when you can’t even run in your very own neighborhood for fear of being poisoned? You run someplace else, that’s what you do. So this morning Peggy and I loaded up and headed over to the trails for some fresh air. I guess I should say fresher air, since all the air around these parts are bad. But at least we weren’t running through plumes of freshly venting natural gas.

What can I say? It was magnificent and I fell in love with trail running all over again. I kept opening my arms to hug the air and the surroundings. The surroundings that weren’t filling our bodies with poison. It was wonderful. We ran happy, we ran cute and the trail twins are gonna do it all over again tomorrow. Hurray for dirt tans, fresher air and mostly, for not being poisoned!

Yesterday I met up with my friend, Peggy, to make up a missed run. We weren’t a mile into our run before we ran into a plume that was so intense I was chocking back vomit. Four hours after filing a complaint with TCEQ the investigator arrived. Four hours later the smell wasn’t as bad and the Toxic Vapor Analyzer wand was still reading 223 ppb. I am quite certain the reading would have been much higher if they had arrived right then. We only ended up with 2.5 miles.

This morning, the air was still bad, but not as bad as yesterday . . . although it seemed to have spread throughout the area and settled in pockets. Perhaps the gas equipment can’t function in this heat? Who knows. Anyhow, 3.5 miles on the books today. With plenty of walk breaks for choking and coughing.

We’ve decided our long run on Saturday will be done AFAFACAP.  (As far away from Argyle Central as possible.)

So P and I got eight miles in this morning. Eight great miles I might add – except for part we ran through a plume of bad air near the Fuller Gas Wells. But geesh, only one stinky plume seems like a blessing these days . . . we usually hit 3 or more plumes. I can’t even begin to tell you how wonderful and exhilarating it is to finally be able to accomplish something like running eight miles again. I was beginning to think surgery had snapped up all my running and I was never to be RS again. But no, go us! Eight full miles.

I’ve been avoiding this too long. So, I’m bulleting. Get over it.

• I did P90X for about 2 weeks and then went on vacation to Indiana.
• In Lafayette, Indiana the plan was that Amy and I would do P90 every day.
• Um, that didn’t happen.
• What did happen was a whole lot of drinking margaritas or mojitos in the pool.
• Or both.
• And maybe some wine.
• And hot dog eating
• And playing dress up.
• And baseball games.
• And legos.
• We musn’t forget the legos.
• I love being Aunt Suzie.
• And there was bison and wolves.
• And sushi consumption with friends.
• And Kim remembers me doing cartwheels in the street.
• In heels.
• And, perhaps, some falling on my ass.
• Then I went to Indianapolis to visit my parents.
• No P90 there – only weeding and gardening.
• Seriously, my mom has neglected the weeds for what seemed like 40 million years.
• Don’t tell her I said that.
• But I’m a good daughter. I weed. I mulch. I dig. That’s what I do.
• Which I really didn’t mind because I brought back 3 garbage bags worth of plants for my garden.
• Which really don’t grow well in Texas.
• But I pretend.
• I’m back in Texas for 2 days and we have the mother of all hail storms.
• Followed my a massive plague of grasshoppers.
• Good thing I’m an atheist.
• Those 3 bags of plants?
• Um, for the most part, not so much plants anymore.
• Disastrous, monstrous storm clean-up takes place.
• Turns out the mother of all hail storms was actually a tornado.
• Ever clean a tree out of a pool?
• With a hot flash?
• Fun times.
• And we have to get a new roof. I’m seriously not happy about this.
• For 3 weeks, massive landscape clean-up was my P90X workout.
• Then something cool happened.
• My friend Peggy said she would train for a marathon with me.
• Woo-Hoo! A running partner.
• We’ve been running like rock stars and we are up to 7 miles.
• Then I planned a ShaleTest fundraiser.
• I baked a load of cookies.
• And I forgot to take pictures when everyone arrived.
• But it was awesome.
• Then I got a sinus infection.
• And didn’t do anything for 5 days.
• I blame global warming for the sinus infection. And, of course, gas drilling.
• Didn’t think I’d leave that out, did you?
• Now, I’m feeling better.
• But I still have hot flashes.
• Go antibiotics!
• Oh, and go new fall shoes that I can’t wear yet.
• Shhh, don’t tell Chef.
• But P90 hasn’t been on my schedule for a while.
• I know you all have been wanting to know how it’s going.
• Now you know.
• So, I’m thinking . . .
• Do I start P90X up on my non-run days?
• Or do I do it in addition with the run days?
• I really like the 4 day run weeks.
• A lot.
• But my big surgeryfied-belly says I need more.
• Sigh.
• Being old sucks.

So that’s it. Now I can get back to regular posting. Guilt free. Sort of.

all the May garden photos.

The first marathon I’ve run since Chicago 2008. I can’t believe so many years have gone by since I’ve run a marathon. I was on a roll for a while – 1-2 marathons per year since 2004. Then I crapped out.

This was probably the toughest marathon I’ve ever run.  It was hilly, humid, hot and windy. All my favorite things combined into one blissful marathon day. Of course, I’m sure not training and being 20 pounds overweight had a little to do with the agony. But I finished, and I was so happy that I ran a marathon I didn’t even care that it took me 5 hours and 49 minutes. There is a lot to be said for being in constant motion for that long. My favorite spectator sign during the race: “That isn’t sweat, it’s your fat cells crying.”

Mr. Thin Trade was kind enough to travel to Fort Worth and run the world’s slowest marathon with me. He would have run much faster if he had run his own race, but he was kind and stuck with me. And I’m glad he did – because my secret plan was to bail at the half.

The first half of the marathon was slow, but I felt really good. I felt even better at mile 16.5 when we approached a kind spectator’s smorgasbord of bananas, power bars, fruit snacks and beer. I often see people handing out beer to runners along the course, but this was the first time I actually partook – and I have to say, that was the most refreshing beer I’ve ever had. And I enjoyed another somewhere around the 20-mile range as well. It kept me going until the end. Proof:

This was the first marathon I’ve ever run that I didn’t end up with chafing all over my body. I’m attributing this to the near full stick of body glide I applied that morning. The only place I missed gliding I ended up with a mighty blood blister. And, oddly, I didn’t even know I had it until I took my shoes off when we got home.

Of course, you know what is coming up now. Pretty, eh?

The finisher shirt and medal were pretty cool too. I think the medal might also be a weapon?!?

But it wasn’t all running. There were plenty of social excursions over the weekend. The Modern, The Kimball, The Japanese Botanical Gardens, The 6^th Floor Museum, the wine, the beer, the food and my pyromaniac Chef’s campfire. A full and fun weekend.

Half’s are great, but nothing compares to the feeling of finishing 26.2 miles. I’d do it all again, I miss marathons. But I think I’d like to put in a few more miles of training before I do.

And in case you are wondering, running a marathon is a lot easier than fighting gas.

My Grandmother died on January 26th – almost two weeks after I arrived in Indiana to be with her. Watching her die was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but it was an honor to with her until the end. Rest in peace, Grandma. I will miss you.

It was terribly cold and snowy in Indiana. I was away from my family and home for over two weeks; two weeks doesn’t seem like long until you are away from your family and home. In the snow. And single degree temperature cold. Sitting in a hospital room nearly 24-hours a day. Missing marathon workouts and eating Midwestern-style food – you know the tasty kind of food that is full of starch and fat that makes your heart sing sweet lullabies to your cardiologist? And then deposits six pounds of blubber or back side while you aren’t looking.

Then, when you come home to Texas. Warm, warm Texas. It snows. And ices. And you are trapped inside the house for another week because sunny and warm Texas isn’t equipped for snow and ice. At least this time had my family with me. And my treadmill.

I’ve lost 4.8 of those 6 pounds. Now, I only have 15.2 more to go. I call that additional 15.2 pounds, my gas fat. That is what I’ve gained since fighting the gas drilling development in our community. It isn’t pretty, but somebody had to gain it. It’s a sacrifice I made for the good of all humankind. You can thank me later. Then buy me a bikini when I take over the world.

Now. Let’s get back to business. Nearly three weeks of Cowtown training and three crucial long runs went bye-bye. I can’t make up for that loss, so I’m picking up where I left off. We will see what happens.

In the meantime, while we yearn for warmth and open-toed shoe season, take a look at what Runner Shoesan purchased. Yeah, they’re tall, but how else do you expect me to keep up with Kenza?

to my blister. 400s and 200s took their toll, but I got them done! I’ve got it tapped up nicely and stuffed into a compression sock. I’m sure I’ll be good as new by tomorrow.

I can’t wear socks with my Vibrams and 19F is too cold for sockless. So I’ve decided to wear my Frees to finish training for Cowtown . . . and this is what I get for running my ten miles in shoes. Looks like I have some toughening up to do.

Reminds me of the good days when I was training for more than one marathon a year. Maybe I should do that again sometime – like in 2011.

• Clean air and clean water for my family and neighbors
• Friendship, family, love, kindness, and the hope that someday we will all coexist in harmony
• Never-ending happiness and prosperity to those I love
• Some super-hero running legs
• My own petting zoo – with room for a llama and baby goats
• A world of fossil-free energy
• Someone to kill the cheese-grating madman who makes mincemeat of my ovaries.
• Hell, while it’s a fantasy list, a world without PMS would be nice (I say this every year).
• Two new kidneys for Master Rowdy
• Oh, and why not – equality on earth and peace among nations.

Merry Christmas, my friends.

Sister Runner Amy and I ran the White Rock Half Marathon on Sunday. It was cold, we dated Galloway more than we didn’t, but we finished. At this point in my life, putting one foot in front of the other and moving in a forward direction is my goal.

Goal accomplished.

And then SRA made me work until my fingers nearly dropped off.

About gas, anyways.

I know I’ve said this before, but I’m so focused on not drowning that I can’t think about anything else. I’m really starting to like my hour in the pool of the mornings (except sprint day, I have weenie arms). Today I was able to choke and gag on water and still keep swimming. I didn’t have to hang on the rope not once. It’s the small things that count.

Stroke, stroke, breath. Stroke, stroke, breath.

It’s kinda nice. The controlled breathing is really relaxing and the drive home is very mellow – an emotion I don’t have much of anymore because it’s all about high anxiety around here. Maybe I should install a lap pool in my living room so I could swim instead of pace?

Stroke, stroke, breath. Stroke, stroke, breath.

Pre-training training going strong for week two.  1600 yards, 1 hour – mix of fists, catch-ups, IM and some other stuff. And, could someone please explain to me why breast stroke is a recovery stroke?

Run 6 miles today. (done)

Run 8 miles next Sunday, Nov. 21.

Run 10 miles on Sunday, Nov. 28.

Run 13.1 on Sunday, Dec 5. at the While Rock Half Marathon with Sister Runner Amy.

It felt great running today – and I’m not worrying about my time – finishing is my goal – and it’s a good goal for the time being. Perhaps I’ll do a little running in between too. This week it’s swim 1 hour on Mon, Wed, Fri and run Tues, Thurs, Sun.

I have a plan, and I’m sticking to it. Look at me all runny and swimmy!

I needed a break, so I self-suspended my blog. I know, I know. But now I’m back and I’m going to try and be really good at balancing my life. It’s hard when you have bad gas, but I trust my lovely Internet People will keep me in line.

So, what have I have I been up to besides fighting bad gas and prioritizing my life? Well, let me tell you.

Sumy Designs got a much-needed makeover.  I like to think the entire world is powered by Apples, but sadly it is not, so take a look around and give me some honest-to-goodness feedback on all the pages.

And then, there was the Muddy Buddy. And it was muddy and I had buddies, but most of all I had a really fantastic time. I learned some really important things that day – like I need to be me and I need to make taking care of myself a priority – now is not the time to compromise my health. But most of all, I need to let my hair down a little more often; it’s good for my soul. And my soul is in need of some desperate healing.

In the midst of all the things going on in my life I sometimes forget how far one day of fun can take me. I forgot that I don’t smile very often these days, but with a little help form my friends that changed for a day.

Call me crazy, but when was the last time you danced in the kitchen to the Gap Band while chopping veggies just because it was fun? Or was on a mission – because someone, somewhere out there needed a beer – and who are you to deny anyone a much needed beer? Why not deliver those beers while riding a mountain bike for the first time without pedals  wearing a dress and a tutu?

Internet People, especially those around my neck of the woods with really bad gas, if I can give you one piece of advice it would be to take a break and do something fun or wild or crazy.  Take your friends and give yourself a little mind some piece of mind to let loose and know that the world will be a better place for what we are doing. We have to believe this, it is what keeps us going.

So let’s talk about that crazy. Crazy like I’ve registered for the White Rock Half Mary in December with Sister Runner Amy, and crazy like I’m going to run the Cowtown full marathon with Mr. Thintrade in February and the craziest of all is that I’ve registered the for the Galveston Half-Ironman in April with my Muddy Buddies.

I need to get back on track, my mind and body are aching for normalcy. So, Internet People, I need your help. I need you to keep me on track and spank me when I mess up, love me when I do good and most of all, tell me when I get too gassy.

You can view the rest of the Muddy Buddy Photos here.

Every now and then, scattered about the science fiction novel that is our life, there are a few good days – and today was one of them. It’s a great time in life when our babies are finally old enough to run the races with us. Today, Kenza and I ran, swam, clawed and climbed our way through the Run the Jailbreak Adventure race.

And adventurous it was – by the time we got to the course the announcers were already shouting warnings because there had already been one broken arm, one broken leg and one serious accident.

When did broken bones stop counting as serious?

With that in mind, Kenza and I had a plan – stick together. Of course one mudslide and a waterfall later stick together turned into leave slow, old Mom in the mud and wait for her at the finish line. That’s my baby girl.

Have I ever mentioned how much I love that baby girl?