Who knew I was such a Chatty Cathy?

I should never be allowed to counsel patients about their diet.  I don’t even think I’m being overly critical when I say I’m terrible.  Apparently I become Chatty Cathy when I’m nervous, and things just get WAY out of hand quickly.  Or not quickly enough, I suppose, since I went way over the 30 minute time limit, but essentially said nothing of value and most likely just overwhelmed and confused my patient—we’re talking a very serious case of word vomit here.  Let me explain.  Today, for nutritional counseling, we had to walk our none-too-eager future dietitian bums down to the OU Medical Teaching Labs for a lesson in humiliation.  Oh wait, the humiliation is still to come.  Let me explain.  (sheesh!)  Today, we had to meet with actors pretending to be patients, and counsel them on their specific health condition.  Now, to say that I feel that class has less than prepared me for this moment would be a glaring understatement.  So it was bad enough that I had to enter this room and speak with someone who could clearly tell I was nervous and unqualified.  But the fun doesn’t stop there.  Oh no, it never does, does it?  During this little adventure, we were filmed.  Now, I have no problem sitting down with my professor and watching the video and getting feedback that way. But that wouldn’t cause enough embarrassment, would it?  Nope.  Instead, without ever seeing the video beforehand, I get to see it in a few weeks, along with the rest of my classmates.  Oh yes.  This will be public humiliation, complete with criticism from my peers.  I realize that we are all in the same boat, but none of us want to see each other embarrassed.  So none of us care to watch these videos together.  Good grief.

Speaking of grief, the day just wouldn’t be complete without some complaining about my pathetic physical state at the moment, so let’s just go ahead and get that over with.  I decided to stop walking in the boot on Tuesday.  I seemed to be developing a tender spot on the side of my foot and my Achilles was getting incredibly sore in that thing, so I thought it best that it just be burned, and that I immobilize my foot with tape and a good pair of supportive shoes, plus arch supports inserted.  Well, day 1 without the boot went fine, but I intentionally didn’t walk much.  Yesterday was the real test, with a short shift at the shop last night, and I’m disheartened with how it went.  I guess I just kept hoping that this was going to be one of those things that cleared up rather quickly, and then I could just spend months obsessing over whether I should’ve tried harder to push through it in Chicago or not.  But unfortunately it’s not looking like that is the case.  Last night and today my foot has been incredibly sore.  I’m really frustrated and disappointed with this whole situation.  I was hoping to start running a little after the 4-week minimum rest the doc had prescribed, but right now I don’t think that is a realistic goal, as I am nearly 3 weeks in and still experiencing a lot of discomfort.  The worst part?  I’m missing all of the beautiful fall weather I love so much.  It’s been so crisp and cool in the mornings, and those are the mornings I used to head out for a short run and end up running much more than planned because it just felt so good. Not to mention, I have really cute fall running gear, and I can’t even use it!

On to the positives:  I swam 100 meters without stopping a few days ago!  And . . . I haven’t developed a fungus from the one YMCA-appropriate bathing suit I own and therefore cannot wash on a regular basis.  So both big wins right there.  Life is good.  Ha!  I suppose I should start looking into getting at least another bathing suit since it seems the pool and I are stuck with each other for awhile longer.

Since I can’t run, I spend most of my day fantasizing about which races I will run when I can run.  I’m thinking the half-marathon in Austin is possible (just any excuse to go to Austin!), and I’m seriously considering running the Green Bay Cellcom marathon in May.  I’ve always wanted to do a marathon back home, and this spring might be the time to do it.  Especially since my best marathon time qualifies me for a complimentary entry, and I will be the poor kid completing an unpaid internship in the spring.  Oh, and I can stay with my parents that weekend.  J  I think my chances of running the Pub Run are out, which is probably a blessing in disguise for a few reasons: 1) I’ve never actually finished a full Guinness; 2) I’ve never chugged beer and attempted to run a race at the same time; 3) The last time I had 4 beers within an hour, I . . . well, I can’t remember what happened, which isn’t ideal for such a public situation.  I do hope to still attend and witness this great event so that I can begin preparing for next year.  I also think my chances of running the Whiterock half-marathon are slim to none. I had hoped to be ready to at least run a respectable time there, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.  Oh well.  Plenty of races in my future.  I just need to be patient, which is not something that is easy for me to do.

I have become quite the Susie Homemaker since finding myself with more free time than I know what to do with.  I should use the time to study and complete homework instead of relying on my current method of cramming, but I just can’t seem to focus for too long right now.  So, I bake.  Last Friday, I baked two different cookie desserts:  one chocolate chip/peanut butter/Reeses Pieces/vanilla frosting concoction, and one toffee brownie cookie batch.  I wasn’t entirely pleased with either recipe, mostly thanks to my crappy oven.  However, that did not stop me from eating both desserts, and poor Scott, bless his heart, seems to be humoring me by choking them down, as well.  And on Sunday, I made sweet and spicy pulled pork in the slow cooker.  Thankfully that turned out delicious, because it has provided me with dinner every night this week and I’m still not sick of it.  I’m pretty easy to satisfy when it comes to food.  I’m looking forward to trying out some new recipes this weekend.  Feel free to send your favorite recipes my way—I’d love to try them!

Footloose and Fancy Boot Free

BIG day yesterday.  HUGE!  Are you ready for this?!  I hope you’re ready.  Okay, here goes.  I . . . ellipticalled (I realize that is probably a word that only exists in my mind). That’s right, friends.  I did some sort of weight baring cardio activity.  For exactly 15 minutes.  Now, never mind that I had the incline set at 1 and the resistance set at 2, compared to my usual incline of 8 and resistance of 12.  And that I only made it 1 mile in that 15 minutes.  The purpose of yesterday’s little adventure was to test the waters for future workouts.  And there’s more.  After the elliptical, I mosied on over to the stationery bike.  Oh yes, things got crazy in that cardio room.  I set the resistance at 5 and leisurely rode for another 15 minutes—2.5 miles of wonderful.  I followed up that massive cardio session with yet another upper body lifting routine.  Seriously, I’m going to have to start cutting the sleeves off of all of my shirts at the rate that my biceps are growing.  Just ridiculous. 

I have, for the most part, bid adieu to the ball and chain also known as my walking boot, and now rely on a solid foot taping and a good pair of supportive shoes with an insert in them.  I just can’t handle wearing that thing anymore.  And aside from a bit of tenderness on my heel that remains, things are really improved from even just a week ago.  I’m going to go about this whole business in the most positive fashion possible, because I’ve read a lot about how attitude alone can have a large effect on fully recovering from an injury.  So, despite the many horror stories of lingering plantar fasciitis and painful scar tissue build-up after a tear that I seem to have been hyper aware of these past 2 ½ weeks, I’m confident that my efforts to do everything right during this healing process will allow my foot to heal 100%, and that I will be running as strong as I was pre-injury in just a short while.  Heck, I will be stronger!  I have a whole new appreciation for my body, and for what running really means to me.  But as much of a learning experience this whole thing has been, I do hope this will be both my first and my last running injury.  It’s rough!  Unfortunately, I’m afraid I’m still a few weeks away from taking my first glorious running step, but I’m pretty pumped about the prospect of elliptical and bike workouts right now.

How about a little weekend recap?  Hmm, let’s see.  It’s so hard to choose which really, super exciting details of my life I should share.  I don’t want to keep you all here all day, after all. I hope my sarcasm is seeping through here. 

I don’t remember when I did this, but clearly it was during a period of temporary insanity—apparently I volunteered for the “Setting Up” shift of the Diabetes Walk at the OKC Zoo on Saturday.  Imagine my shock when an email popped up reminding me to be at the zoo “no later than 6:00 a.m.­” I swear, that’s exactly how it was emphasized in the email.  And Friday night, I decided to be social for the first time in months, and went out for a few beers.  So my 12:00 a.m. bedtime was most regretted when my alarm went off at 4:30 a.m.  Ouch.  But setting up was sort of fun, I guess.  From the zoo, I headed straight to the 6A cross country regional held in Norman to watch the 6A girl’s race before heading to work.  I guess a hurricane decided to blow through at that exact moment, so the race was delayed, but I stuck around (and froze!) and even had the pleasure of helping time the race.  From the race, I bolted to work at the shop.  I spent the day sharing war stories with old ladies about bunions and plantar fasciitis and any other ailment that seems to make me more relatable to 75 year old women than 25 year old women.  It’s amazing how much I’ve really connected with that population since wearing that darn boot to work.  I think I’ve made some friends for life, friends who really get what I’m going through.  I always knew I was an old lady on the inside.  Needless to say, following 4 hours of sleep on Friday night and a full day of running around until the shop closed at 5:30 on Saturday, I went home and slept until 8:00, missing my opportunity to accompany Scott to a Halloween party.  Bummer.   We didn’t come up with any good costume ideas, anyway.  Sunday was a leisure day of sleeping in, breakfast at La Baguette, some romping at the dog park (Asher did the romping, I did the pretending he’s not mine), some homework, and last, but most definitely not least, a PACKER VICTORY!!  Finally!  Good grief, it was an intense game.

As you can imagine, I’m still recovering from such a wild and crazy weekend.  Someday I will settle down, but gosh darn it, I’m just not ready. Stay tuned for more tales from my fascinating life. J

The 5 Stages of Injury Grief

I’m not sure how I started getting frequent emails from Active.com (most likely courtesy of some race I signed up for), but every once in awhile they will pop up and I will click my handy dandy trash icon without a second glance.  However, one of the subject lines actually caught my eye the other day, and I found myself exploring my first ever Active.com email.  You’re probably wondering, what could be so enticing so as to not activate my trash icon reflex?  Well, an article about me, of course.  Okay, so my name isn’t Michelle Frey, and I haven’t run a 2:35 marathon.  Details.

The article was actually about the 5 stages of injury grief.  The first stage: denial.  Yep, sounds about right.  What distance runner doesn’t experience injury denial on a regular basis, though?  If you rest every time you feel a little twinge or a little pain, you’d never run consistently.  Apparently, the denial stage leads to injury.  Rubbish! 

Ahem.  Excuse my little outburst.  That’s just injury grief stage number 2 talking: anger.  Check.  I guess this is the temper tantrum stage.  Does this one really go away?  I’ll tell you what.  I’ll completely, and happily, exit this stage when I can run again.  Deal? 

Speaking of deal, this leads me to stage number 3: bargaining.  Oh, I’ve been bargaining alright.  For example, just yesterday I made a deal with myself.  If I could make it the length of the pool just one time without the chubby kid on the diving board not purposely splashing me, then I wouldn’t give him a wedgy in front of all of his friends.  The kid’s lucky, that’s all I have to say.  Moving on. 

The next stage: depression.  Runners miss the endorphin fix.  Runners feel cut off and isolated from the running community they love so much.  True and true.  No funny business with this one.  It just plain old sucks. 

This brings me to stage 5: acceptance.  I guess I have accepted the current situation well enough, but darn it if it still doesn’t put a damper on every day.  I just want to feel the wind on my face again.  I want to enjoy the crisp mornings of my favorite running season.  I want to put all of the excitement I feel for all of the big races coming up--NYC marathon, cross country championship season, McNellie’s Pub run  (ha!)—towards some great runs of my own.  Soon enough, I suppose. 

Now if you excuse me, I need to get on with my emails.  There are 4, yes 4!, Christmas cookie recipe emails in my inbox at the moment.  I love everything about Christmas cookies.  Heck, I think this just may fall into the “acceptance” category.  I accept that not being able to run doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy many, many Christmas cookies.  I think a sugar high could temporarily satisfy that endorphin fix I’m craving. J

Fro-yo Cures All

I’m allergic to Oklahoma.  It took some time to confirm it, as all sound research does, but I can now say with 95% confidence that I am statistically significantly allergic to the state of Oklahoma.  I am struggling with yet another attack of allergies—itchy eyes, stuffy nose, clogged lungs, lots of phlegm.  Really quite a deliciously attractive situation going on over here.  Thankfully, this little bout of allergies doesn’t seem to be nearly as intense as one I suffered just about a month ago.  I thought I was going to die in my sleep during that one.  Well, if I could’ve fallen asleep, that is.  My constant coughing and nose-blowing made sleep impossible for about a week that time.  I cannot ever recall having an allergy attack before this year.  And now, it’s a regularly occurring party in my mucus membranes.  Gross.

Allergies or not, I enjoyed some quality outdoor time this weekend.  I’d call the first annual OK Runner Chili Cook-Off/Trail Run a success.  We had 12 varieties of chili to taste and beer courtesy of Mustang Brewing Company to cleanse the palate.  While not being able to participate in the trail run was a bummer, a 4^th place award in the chili cook-off and an opportunity to get an early start on the beer drinking almost made up for it.  It was a beautiful day—85 degrees and nothing but sunshine.  Asher was fortunate to get some miles in with Scott, and a couple of swims, too!  I won a sweet hydration backpack.  I even studied a bit for my Monday exams while everyone was off enjoying the trails.  Darn near a perfect day altogether.

Now back to those exams.  Excuse my language, but this is the only way to describe my Monday:  it sucked.  Seriously, Mondays are rough enough with class from 9AM-6PM, but throw in two exams that I’m not remotely prepared for compared to normal, and it was one heck of a stressful day.  I survived the exams well enough, I suppose, but I’m going to need to get my act together for the next round.  I’m a lover of learning and a lover of school, but recently I’ve started to experience slight burn out, I think.  I’ve got a lot of other things going on these days, and quite honestly, I’d rather be doing a lot of those other things than going to school.  It’d also be fun to not live like a student for once in my adult life.  Stay tuned for huge future decisions, my friends.

It was probably due to the stressful day, but I was especially sensitive to boot comments yesterday.  As I was walking down the hall at school, a woman looked me up and down with pity and said “That boot must be heavy for YOU to carry.”  I swear she emphasized the word “you”.  Please, lady, like you could carry it any better.  These legs are strong, whether I’m wearing a boot or running a race, thank you very much!  Then, I went to the Y to relieve stress last night.  My plan was to practice my swimming technique and aqua jog, since I can’t swim very long without getting tired. The pool wasn’t crazy busy, but I did have to share a lane with a man who was swimming laps.  I began with aqua jogging to warm up a bit, and I made it exactly one length of the pool before a Y employee came over and said “I hate to do this to you since I seen you hobble over, but could you move to over there if you’re just going to be going up and down the lane like that.”  And by “over there” he meant the end where water aerobics was going on.  I was shocked.  What is the difference between me aqua jogging up and down the lane and someone swimming up and down the lane.  Plus, I planned on swimming intermittently, although I was too ashamed to tell the guy this because I know I’m a terrible swimmer and I feel like he and his cronies (ie, lifeguards) would have been watching and judging as I splashed up and down the lane.  So, I hobbled on over to the water aerobics end, fuming internally as I tried not to put weight on my left foot, and the clearly out-of-shape swim coach comes up to me and points to the water aerobics class and says “Maybe you could join them.” Now, I have nothing against water aerobics, but the mean age of the participants last night was 75, I swear.  Seriously, do you think I’m here to play around in the pool?  Do you think I LIKE being in this cramp-inducing pit of death?!?  I hate the Y! Whew.  It felt good to get that off my chest.  I'd like to add that no one ever filled my vacant spot in my original lane the entire time that I was there. 

So since the Y clearly isn’t going to be the stress relief I had hoped for, I have a back up.  Lots of ice cream/frozen yogurt.  It’s instant euphoria when it hits my mouth.  Combined with great company, and there’s just nothing better.  I finally found my way back to Orange Tree last night, and had one of the most delicious concoctions I’ve come up with yet.  You can tell who the rookies are in self-serve place like that.  There is a perfect ratio of fro-yo to toppings, and the rookies always go WAY overboard with the fro-yo.  Don’t be discouraged if you find this happening to you.  It just takes practice, like anything.  Some of us just practice more than others.  You, too, can become a master if your heart is in it.  I think my allergies are slightly better today, too, which is most likely a result of fro-yo consumption.  Perhaps that will be the secret to my surviving allergy season in Oklahoma. 

Listlessy proceeding through life is dangerous and scary . . .

**WARNING:  This post is about absolutely nothing, except the thoughts that randomly occupy my mind.  You’ve been warned.  Don’t be mad at me if you continue to read and then feel like you wasted 5 minutes of your day.  I take no responsibility.**

I love lists.  Absolutely love them.  It is just so incredibly satisfying to cross things off of “the list”.  For my fellow list makers out there, you know exactly what I’m talking about.  I think my life would be a mess without lists.  I think my brain only functions at maybe 75% capacity most days, and that 25% that just isn’t getting the job done, that’s the “remember important details/things I need to do” part of my brain.  So fair warning:  if you want me to remember to do something or be somewhere or whatever needs remembering, tell me to write it on my list.  If you don’t, don’t be offended if I forget.

Today, I’d like to think that I’m at a “kick butt” level of list crossing off, pretty nearly a “total domination” level that began with a 6 AM wake up and a complete research abstract written by 7:30 AM.  Well, this little post wasn’t on the list, so that’s kind of setting me back, but I can’t fight inspiration.  When I get the itch to write, darn it I need to write!  Now, if this post is inspiring you to write a list, let me give you a little pointer.  Lists can become daunting and overwhelming.  So to reduce the chance of panic at the thought of “list overload”, I like to plant a few easy ones on the list.  For example, I just might find “Go to the vending machine and buy/consume some chocolate” after “Apply for graduation”.  Equally important tasks right there, and skipping either would result in dire consequences.  After “Read 3 Energy Nutrient articles and make online discussion comments for each” I might come across “Eat a bowl of ice cream”.  Heck, I think I will cross that one off twice. 

My list from this week has been one of those daunting and overwhelming lists.  So after I’m done dominating this day, I think my list for the weekend will look a little like this:

                *Don’t set an alarm (so done it’s not even funny)

                *Snuggle with my boys (you may be thinking I’m a pimpette, but no dice.  I’m talking about boys of the extra furry, four-legged variety)

                *Sip coffee and work on a crossword puzzle

                *Take Asher to the REAL dog park so that I can pretend like he’s not mine when he lifts his leg to mark some unsuspecting person’s leg out there whose clothes must really smell like their dog

                *Cook up some extra awesome chili (I hope!) and participate in my first ever chili cook-off

                *Drink beer and eat chili at said chili cook-off

Of course, I will probably need to study for the two exams I have on Monday, and I will spend some time selling shoes/taking abuse about my sad physical state/eating all of the leftover cookies from the morning group run, and I plan to spend a few hours fighting death by drowning, but those things didn’t really fit the theme of my list.  Oh, that’s another thing, my future list-writers:  always, ALWAYS have a theme.  Does a theme have any real, working purpose, you might ask?  Well, besides making your list totally fun and awesome, I suppose not.  But isn’t that what we all truly strive for—totally fun and awesomeness?  

Go ahead and try out a list once.  It’s addicting.  I’ll even help you start your list: 1) Have a totally fun and awesome weekend. J

Oh the shame . . .

I’m just going to go ahead and throw caution to the wind and say this, and risk any judgement that may ensue. Here goes: I. Can’t. Swim. Whew. There you have it, folks. I’ve tried and tried, and I just can’t figure it out. I jump in the pool, and I immediately sink to the bottom. You’d think this bubble bottom of mine would serve as a buoyancy device, but alas, it seems its only real purpose is to wear holes in the backside of my jeans. I like to think of myself as an athletic person—I could throw a pretty sweet windmill pitch and even hit a homerun (once, and it was of the in-the-park variety), I managed to dribble a basketball and even get it through the orange circle on occasion, I can throw a spiral (okay, maybe every 1 of 5 throws resembles a spiral, but still) and I can even catch the football, if you kind of just underhand toss it to me. I once tore all of the skin off of the left side of my body thanks to an awesome fall during a rollerblade race, but gosh darn it if I didn’t win that race. But get me near a body of water, and unless I have my floaties on, I’m going straight to the bottom. I almost had the opportunity to take swim lessons once, when I was a wee toddler, but my older brother was such a brat that he got kicked out of lessons before I even had a chance to go, and my mom was too embarrassed to ever go back (or the story goes something like that). So, thank you Brandan, I may never forgive you. Ha! Only teasing, of course. I still claim you with pride, despite this obviously very life-changing wrong you’ve done me. So this is my plea to you, my friends: someone teach me to swim so that I don’t have to live in such shame. I would be forever grateful, and even bake you delicious baked goods.

Okay, moving on. I’m substantially less grumpy after my little rant yesterday, and to prove it, I will only talk about happy things. For example, I made it to the dog park this morning, and my dog was slightly excited to stretch out the legs. I think I counted 15 sprinting trips the length of the dog park before he finally stopped to sniff something. And how about that sunrise this morning?! It was a beaut! I kind of wish I wasn’t witnessing it as I was parking my car at work, but what can you do. I had coffee in hand, so I’ll take it. I’ve got some very exciting data to analyze today, and will throw together an abstract before noon tomorrow (nothing like deciding to present at the very last minute), and I’m not even lying when I say I’m actually excited to do this. I love research. Just love it! And I’m having lunch with a great friend. How can this not be a wonderful day?? Now, I’m not really very good at asking for things, but there is just one itsy, bitsy, tiny little thing that if someone could help me with it, it would guarantee the best day I’ve had in at least 4 days: teach me to swim. J

I'm Pissed

I’ve always enjoyed reading friend’s blogs about running, life, their thoughts, dreams, ambitions, insane lifestyles (you know who you are, Rocketship), etc. However, I’ve never really been inspired to write a blog of my own.  Until now.  And my current inspiration is that . . .

I’m pissed.  Most of you who know me know that I’m not much of a swear-er and when I read this someday down the line, I’m sure I will blush at my public use of such a word, but for now, it captures how passionate I feel about this exact moment in time.  And my purpose for capturing this moment is so that I can use it in the future.  Because I think that being pissed can be such a powerful motivator. 

For example, just over a month ago, as I was dually preparing for both the Chicago marathon (main focus) and the Brookhaven run (secondary focus, but I wanted to break 18 minutes for the first time on the roads, gosh darn it), I did a little tune up workout on the track the week leading up to the Brookhaven.  Just some simple 400’s at 5K pace after a 2 mile at marathon pace (I needed to still get some sort of marathon focus in, after all).  I couldn’t run 88’s to save my life, and 88’s were NOT going to get me a sub-18 5K.  I was pissed.  I verbalized more of those words that now make me blush right out there on the track, and loudly.  I was frustrated that all of my training from the summer wasn’t lending itself to awesome track workouts.  Heck, I would’ve just settled for one of those “I got through it” workouts, but that wasn’t even happening.  I left the track in a terrible mood (complete with a temper tantrum, to be honest) and didn’t even allow myself to enjoy ice cream that night, which most of you know is really quite a serious situation.  When I woke up the morning of Brookhaven, I was hoping to just squeeze out something sub-18 by some miracle--I would’ve been ecstatic with a 17:59.99.  But when I lined up for the start, I started to think about my awful track workout, and instead of doubting my abilities, I just got pissed again.  And I ran a 17:36. Two seconds off of my all-time 5K PR.  On a course in which I’ve previously run 19:00 and 18:08. At the end of a 92-mile week.  I wasn’t pissed anymore.

Okay, back to present time.  I’m pissed today because it took me 30 minutes longer to get ready this morning.  I’m pissed because my awkward attempt to shave my legs without putting weight on one foot resulted in one hairy strip that remains down my right leg, which goes nicely with my dress clothes and heels (excuse me, heel).  I’m pissed because I don’t have the time or energy to hobble my way to the dog park in the morning so that my dog can enjoy his morning romp.  I’m pissed because it took me 10 minutes to walk from my apartment door to my car parked in the apartment parking lot, juggling a backpack, purse, my breakfast, and my coffee on crutches.  I’m pissed because it took me 15 minutes to walk the quarter mile from where I park my car on the street (since I didn’t buy a pass to the lot by my building, my logic being that I have two perfectly good legs to walk my bum to class without having to pay $108 to park closer) to my classroom this morning, making me late for class since it is normally a 5 minute walk.  I’m pissed that every time I try to do something, someone asks if I need help.  It’s not that I’m pissed at them, I really do appreciate how kind everyone is, it’s that I’m pissed that I could actually probably use their help but I don’t WANT to NEED their help. Heck, I’m pissed that school is hectic and overwhelming right now. I promise I’m almost done with this rant.  Actually, all of this leads to the real reasons I’m pissed.  I’m pissed that my fantasies about race day that got me through those long, excruciatingly hot runs this summer didn’t even come close to happening.  I’m pissed that the marathon once again has had its way with me.  And most importantly, I’m pissed that I’m so pissy and I can’t do the one thing I know will make me feel better.  The thing I rely on most for my sanity.  Thank goodness I didn’t spill my coffee (the other thing that keeps me somewhat sane) this morning, or I’d be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

I realize that the sting from this weekend’s events will wear off, and I will live to run another day (and a few fast marathons, too!), so that’s my purpose for this rant.  I don’t want to forget this feeling when I start training for my next marathon. I want to remember this when I line up for my next marathon. I want a repeat of Brookhaven.  And I want the few close friends and family that might read this to remind me that I’m pissed when I complain about training in the future.

Don’t worry, I don’t expect many posts to have so much darn complaining in them.  I’m generally a very happy person, a lover of life.  I just love life a little tiny bit more when I can run.  After all, since moving to Oklahoma, I think running has been such a big part of my identity.  Now, for a few weeks, I’m just the girl who eats a lot of ice cream but really should probably try to cut back a bit.  Ha!  Okay, so I have a lot of other things going on in my life, but I just need to run.  End of story.  I promise in person I’m not all grumpy like this post might suggest, so please don’t stop inviting me to your parties—I will happily attend, grin and bare it, and then eat any and all chocolate provided at said party.  J