Dignity and a new pair of socks

If I could wish for one thing, it would be to finish the St. Paddy's Day 5K with a bit of dignity, half a muffin and a large strawberry daquiri. Alas, I have been unable to follow my special 5K training plan because of my whiny shin tendons, who get all inflamed every time I try to run a little. So as it is, I may just get the muffin and strawberry daquiri. Oh, I'm sure I'll finish the 5K. But it may take 45 minutes, and I won't have any dignity by the end. Although I will have a new t-shirt.

In order to keep doing something without making my moderate case of shinsplints worse, I've been replacing the running days with cross training: elliptical, walking. I tried another 2 mile run on Sunday, although it was supposed to be 2.5 miles, this time starting on the bridge side. Good idea because running across the never-ending bridge wasn't as frustrating, however, the rest of the course was mainly uphill, which my shins clearly did NOT like. So I did a combination of running and walking instead. (In case you're wondering, I have been icing the shins--well, technically I have been frozen cranberry-ing the shins--taking ibuprofen and doing a simple shin-tendon strengthening exercise to take care of the suckers.)

I also bought three pairs of bamboo socks over the weekend. They are super-soft and naturally antibacterial, but significantly thinner than my regular old cotton socks, so my feet weren't as warm and my shoes weren't as snug, thus they kept coming untied. Ah well. Live and learn.

One word

Shinsplints

Two miles of surprise

I ran two miles today. It hurt. A LOT. I've also confirmed what I knew to be true in the first place, but chose to carefully ignore because it's cold outside: I'm going to have to start spending more time running on the road, because it took me by surprise. The asphalt doesn't move.

Besides sheer frustration with the running being so HARD, the horrid sound of my own rasping breath began to irritate me to no end, so that every other sound, every movement, every vehicle that passed, drove me closer to The Edge, until I nearly hurled my camera at a crow that was CAW-CAW-CAWing at me on the other side of the road.

At that point I could see the first mile marker, and suddenly walking became a very attractive option. Very. Attractive. Still, I passed the marker and kept. on. running, telling myself that if I finished a full two-mile run, I would feel good inside. I feel alright. Besides, when I'm out running, I always have this irrational self-conscious feeling that someone is watching. And taking notes.

I was very glad to reach the final half-mile, which spanned the length of a very straight bridge. Have you seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail? You know the part where Sir Lancelot is charging across a field toward Swamp Castle (I *think*) as the camera cuts back and forth between the castle guards and Sir Lancelot, and the drums are rolling, badum-badum-badum-badum-badum, but he isn't getting any closer? Yeah. Me running across the bridge.

At some point--probably when I was dead-set on walking for a minute or two or five or ten--it occured to me that two miles is the longest distance I have ever run at once. So I kept going, I did not throw my camera at anything, I did not get hit by a stray golf ball, I did not get trapped in an infinite time loop on the bridge, and I did not throw up at the end although I had thought I might, my chest and diaphragm and abs were contracting so hard. I ran it in just under 21 minutes, which is not a fantastic time, but it surprised me. Heck, finishing surprised me too.

Time to get a little racy

It's official: I am registered for my first 5K run on March 16 in Baltimore. It's ON now.

After some careful research, I've decided on the marathon I will attempt to attempt: the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington DC. The "People's Marathon," whatever that means. Maybe that it's not just for Marines, but people too. Or because the people demanded the Marines give them a marathon. Or maybe they just say that to make it less intimidating, because the name is a little badass. Booyah.

Anyway, I've heard it's a well-organized race with an excellent turnout. Added to the list of perks, it's local(ish) and so I'm at least somewhat familiar with the terrain and weather, and I can push for maximum cheering action from EVERYONE I KNOW. But what's really sold me is the numerology--running 26.2 miles on October 26, just six days after I turn 26. A winning combination, if you ask me.

Ride of the Valkyries

It's hard to blog when you hardly get a moment to yourself. That is what I am struggling with this week--it's stressful to constantly be around other people. The result is that I become nervous and a bit irrational; this morning I woke up in a panic thinking it was Thursday and I would be late for a meeting, then relaxing slightly realizing that it is only Wednesday--four times.

I meant to start 5K training last week, which clearly did not happen. But this week I'm slowly getting on track and fully intend to register for that 5K in March because I have a very good training plan from Runner's World that fits very comfortably into my existing schedule. In fact I ran 20 minutes yesterday instead of the prescribed 10, because I could. However, I was on the treadmill rather than outside, so 20 minutes probably works out to be about the equivalent of 10 on the road. Anyway, last week had its complications, culminating in my falling violently ill at work late Thursday morning. I felt much better (though still weak) by Friday, and after a few errands at the bank and a pedicure, Keith and I set off for Ocean City, where I was sure we would squeeze in some walking time on the beach--cameras in tow, of course.

Although the quality of the workout may not have been ideal, my muscles still felt it on Monday--all that squatting and lunging to get different photo angles. And then there was the slightly creepy Hitchcockian moment when Keith brought out a bagel to attract every sea gull within a two-mile radius for some face time with the camera.

Eventually, I had some fun watching them hovering in a pseudo-line in front of us, waiting to catch a piece of bagel. But when I replay in my mind the image of ALL THOSE BIRDS swooping down around us, all I hear is Wagner's (that's VOG-ner) Ride of the Valkyries and Robert Duvall voicing the immortal words, "I love the smell of napalm in the morning."

{Apocalypse Now (1979), courtesy RotaryAction.com}

Review: January

I know I've been absent from blogging. It's been a busy week. But hopefully you will find it in your hearts to see that 14 hours of painting and two days of moving office furniture that can only be described as "effing heavy" count toward my fitness goals, one way or another. I was planning to start 5K training this week. I was also planning to register for a 5K this week. So far I haven't done either.

In the meantime, I've put together a calendar of my workout achievements (and shortfalls) for the past four weeks. You will notice that my star-earning rate is currently at 70.83%. That's a C-minus. Eww.


**Okay, at the moment I can't get the stupid table to display properly. So you'll see it when I have more time to be angry and get frustrated.**