How I Lived It Up In 2010

January 1, 2010 – Kicked off the new year by doing the Polar Plunge with Sam at the Boulder Reservoir. Froze my ass off:

January 2010 - Started running again after a stress fracture of the cuboid bone in my right foot:

February 2010 – Turned 43 years old but acted like I was 7

March 2010 - Mexico, baby. Dangerously close to showing the almighty crack (I seem to enjoy the squatting position):

White kids can jump:

April 2010 – Took my first ice bath:

May 2010 – Lucky lost an eye (but, he’s good now and no he’s not dead in this picture):

May 2010: BQ’d at the Colorado Marathon

May 2010: Got my RRCA coaching certification on a trip to Vegas. Here I am studying:

May 2010: Ran the Bolder Boulder 10K with Ken and the kids:

June 2010: Completed a triathlon

July 2010 – I got bobbled:

August 2010: Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon with Ken

August 2010: Ran Stage 1 of the TransRockies Run with Dean K. (I hadn’t told you this before). Here he is touching my boob:

 

The kids got to meet an idol:

September 201o: Went skydiving and almost crapped my pants:

October 2011: Wallowed in my misery of having a hip stress fracture, but kept my sites on Boston:

November 2010 - Started water running and hooked up with the pussy posse

December 2010 – Thought a lot about getting healthy and finding balance:

And…I do have a fun 2011 announcement, but have to keep it under wraps just a tad longer.

Happy 2011 to you! May your bowels behave during every long run and race this year. 

I’m grateful and honored you for stuck around with SUAR in 2010 (and hopefully 2011),

SUAR

The Marathon Diet

If I was a betting woman (actually, I am – I just never win – 20 trips to Vegas in the past 8 years and all I’ve got to show for it are some worn out memories and that fatherless child we never speak of), I’d say that the majority of New Year’s resolutions focus on losing weight. Eating better. Exercising more.

I like to state the obvious.

I don’t need to lose weight. In fact, I could stand to gain some in the chest area if you know what I mean. I probably don’t need to exercise more. Maybe smarter, but not more. I can, however, stand to eat a bit better. And, cut back on my wine.

Here’s the thing. When it comes to eating well, we do a pretty good job around here. Home cooked meals 90% of the time, a minimal intake of processed foods, a wide variety of items consumed, moderation in all things. I will admit, however, that when my training season hits, I don’t alter my eating habits as much as I should.

Marathon training takes it out of you, physically and mentally (and crappily). Again, I state the obvious. Thousands of calories are burned and fuel stores are quickly depleted. If you’re me, those calories and fuel stores are left on the side of the road in a steaming heap. 

I’ve read a ton about how to fuel prior/during/after training runs and races. About how to hydrate properly. What I haven’t read as much about, however, is how a runner’s overall, everyday diet needs to change while they are training.

If you have a healthy and nutritious eating habits already, is it not enough to just add more calories to your diet? Nope, it’s not. You also need to focus on ensuring that the types of foods you take in are filling those holes left by hard training.

A training marathon runner should be consuming a diet that is composed of between 65% and 70% carbohydrates. A typical marathon training diet is one that is around 65% carbohydrates – 25% protein – 10% fat {source}.

I have to be honest. I pay attention to carbs consumed during long runs and protein intake after. That’s it. I haven’t given much attention to changing my overall diet during training with the exception of just eating more. Let this be a goal in the SUAR world. So, if you have a book you love that gives good advice/recipes in this area, let me know.

My hugest, biggest, most ginormous goal for 2011? Return to running healthy and injury free and stay there. This will involve dietary changes, training changes, attitude adjustments and balance.

Awhile back I posted about the DVD “Eating,” which encourages people to move to a strictly plant based diet. Lots of you left really insightful comments regarding the subject. I am going to send the DVD onto Amanda at Running Hood for her to watch and pass on. Amanda, email your address to shutuprun@gmail.com. Amanda said:

I've been wanting to switch over to eating a plant based diet for some time but it so hard. My husband would surely go for it if I just made the decision and cooked vegetarian meals but I just have not made that leap yet. We do eat mostly organic and especially when it come to fruits, veggies and meat. I love all 10 of her points.... I'd be interested in watching this video.

Do you have resolutions involving changing eating habits, losing weight or tweaking exercise regimens? Do tell.

Pussy Cats

This post is related to running because cats sometimes run.

Do not miss this video. It is a worthwhile 2 minutes of your life.

You know you’re in trouble when your cat would rather sit on the dining room table and lick his anus than climb onto your lap.

How To Put The Spark Back Into Your Relationship With Your Cat

Damn pussies!

Going to get in the bath (you have to watch the video to know what that means),

SUAR

The Boston Obsession

Why does anyone care about qualifying for Boston anyway?

Seriously, why?

Runner’s World has been asking that of athletes (“Are You Obsessed with Boston?”), and it got me to thinking. What is it that really motivates people to do what it takes for the almighty BQ?

I know what it was for me. The prize money. All $806,000 of it. I knew if I could BQ, that money would be mine. Look! I have no neck:

Honestly, though, it was simply the challenge. Could I, as a newer runner, really get to Boston? How many races would it take? How many years?

Someone (a group of someones) set up qualifying times for this race. Some of us want what’s hard to get.  You mean there’s a race where I can beg them to take my $130 if I run as fast as they say I have to? I’m in. I’d also like to park in handicap spots because I’m not allowed and go behind the first class curtain on airplanes even though I only have a coach ticket. Just simply putting my toe over the line is exhilarating.

I suppose there is a part of me that felt like getting a BQ would somehow define me as a runner. In my heart of hearts I know it doesn’t, so it’s an external thing. Really, when I lace up my shoes and run down my street, I am a runner. Hell, I’m even a runner now and I can’t even run.

Yeah, yeah Boston’s the oldest marathon and fast people run it. At mile 13 some college girls yell and scream. There is some hill at mile 16 that’s supposed to break your heart. But for me, I just wanted to see if I could do it.

Between you and me, I  didn’t know squat about the Boston Marathon when I started running two years ago. It’s a marathon. In a city called Boston. Big shit.

Confession time: When I ran my first marathon almost two years ago, I didn’t even run with a watch, let alone a Garmin. I just wanted to finish the damn thing. When I ran my first marathon almost two years ago it was bliss. I was free of technology, pressure, paces and injuries. A lot changes in two years.

While training for that first race, people kept asking me what my time goal was. Time goal? Are you high? Isn’t it enough of a goal to make it to the finish line? I had no clue about pace. I just went with what felt right and I promised myself I wouldn’t walk.

After that first race, I ran a half marathon three months later faster than I thought I could. With a Garmin. Somewhere along the line I started reading blogs and learned about this BQ thing. But, what was a BQ? A Big Queef? A Bonus Question? A barbecue without the extra B (we call that a barcue)?

Then I got it. It was this race where you had to have a certain marathon finish time to enter.  I looked up my time…let’s see I’m 42….that means I have to run a…3:50 marathon. Well, shit, I thought. I’ve only run one marathon and that was in 4:03, so could it be possible to cut 13 minutes off my time? Hell yeah. That’s only 30 seconds per mile. In truth, I could easily cut 4 minutes off per mile and win the whole damn race.

So, I went for it and it happened. May 9, 2010, Ft. Collins, Colorado. My second marathon. I crossed the line in 3:42:36, giving myself a nice 8 minute cushion. I was going to Boston.

People say Boston’s not all that. There are better, cheaper, more scenic races. True.

People say Boston’s no different/better than NY where you need a time (faster than Boston) to enter (if you don’t want to risk the lottery system). True.

People say the Boston qualifying times are too easy for women. Maybe true.

I say, I’m still glad I’m going. I want to say I did it. That I was there. It’s history making for me, personally. The thrill has been the journey to get there.  Boston for me is symbolic of hard work, determination and doing what I said I would do.

So, your turn. Why do you care (or not) about getting that BQ?

Going to find my neck,

SUAR

Happy Boobs

Wow, it got all serious up in here yesterday with talk of injuries and American Idol and beating up bitches in alleyways. By the way, did you know I was injured? Because I never talk about it. Did you know I ran with Dean K.? Because I never talk about that either. I am going to have a whole post devoted to things I never talk about. Sharts might be #1. Sarcasm, #2. Or maybe #2 should be #2?

So, lets lighten the load. I don’t often copy stuff that I think is funny from other places (preferring to just resort to farts and dumping to make you smile), but this one from HERE was just too good (thanks Badge Runner for the head’s up on this blog). Be sure to click on happy boobs (as if the guys didn’t go right to happy boobs before they read even one other word contained in this post):

Murphy’s Law of Running:

• Your chances of an injury rise proportionally with the amount of the entry fee you just paid.
• If a race brochure says “no dogs or strollers,” you will see a dog get hit by a stroller.
• You will set a PR the day your chip falls off at the starting line.
• If that cute guy/girl is checking out your butt, it’s because you split your shorts.
• You will apply Vaseline to your back and BenGay to your … chafed areas.
• At Mile 24 of your marathon, the aid station will be handing out espresso-flavored Clif Shots.
• Your finish line photo will show you with happy boobs … and you’re a guy.
• After waiting in line for 45 minutes, your Porta-Potty will be out of paper … and seat covers … and then the lock will jam.
• As you sprint to the finish you will be nosed out by a 10-year-old girl.
• Medical research will reveal that eating half-bananas causes sterility.
• You win the Boston Marathon and find someone else is wearing the laurel wreath.
• You’re mistaken for an elite runner, but it’s Secretariat.
• You set the alarm properly, eat a sensible breakfast, stretch, warm up, pack your gear, and get to the starting line in plenty of time … because you forgot the race is tomorrow.

I’ll end with this. Best quote of the day. Last night I was telling my brother and sister in law how expensive the whole Boston thing is. Airfare, hotel, race entry, beer. Ken said, “That’s why you better win the damn thing!”

Never been in a porta potty that did have paper,

SUAR

Results Are In

Went to the doc today for MRI results. It reminded me of American Idol. Sometimes when a contestant would do poorly, Randy would ask,

“So, Dog, how do you think you did?”

Interpretation: I thought you sucked, but I want to see what you thought to make the blow easier.

The first thing the doc asked was, “So, how do you think you’re doing? How’s the pain?”

I told him I didn't have much pain at the fracture site, but lots of other achiness. That like a good little runner I had avoided any impactful activities for the past 80 days until yesterday when I took a 3.5 mile power walk. The left side of my body hurt. Screamed at me, in fact. “You f*cker,” it said.

Amazing how you can run marathons, then you can barely walk 3 miles. I looked up humbled in the dictionary and there was my picture (ever heard that one before?).

Doc said, “You’re not going to like what the radiologist report says, but just know that nothing has changed.  We are still back on track to get you running soon.”

Report impressions: Worsening stress fracture involving the left femoral neck.

Shoot me now.

Increased edema (swelling) since date of injury in October.

However, in the world of sport's medicine, this is not a death sentence. In fact, what he told me is that in the absence of pain, the mess on the MRI actually means I’m healing. If, in fact, I had pain, it would mean I was worse. But, without pain at the fracture site, it’s a good sign.

Go figure. Where do I go from here?

On January 10 I can start running. For 8 minutes every other day. From there I will work up to 15 minutes of running. At that point I can increase time/mileage by 15% per week. That’s when my real marathon training will begin. I’ve also got physical therapy and a gait analysis coming up.

That means I will have an 8 week training cycle for Boston. Including my taper. Laugh if you want. It’s what I’ve got.

I CAN RUN AGAIN IN TWO WEEKS!!

Go tell you mother. Go tell your hair stylist. Go tell your gastroenterologist.

For sure there will be no speed work involved. No 20 mile training runs. In fact, Boston will be my long(est) training run. I’m cautiously optimistic.

Certainly, this could all go to shit if the fracture starts hurting again. But, with any luck, I’ll be in Hopinkton on April 18 ready to run pain free. It might take five hours for me to get the the finish line, but I’ll be running Boston. Because I worked my ass off to get there and I deserve to be there.

I am going to beat this bitch. With a metal bat. In a dark alley. With no witnesses.

When you are injured, there is advice flowing to you from every angle. Books, fellow runners, magazines, non-runners. I am choosing to listen to myself and my doc. I know I am in good hands. He is one of the professionals who consults with Runners World on their Challenge Forum (for injured runners). Dude knows his stuff.  He will take care of me.

Setbacks? For sure there are some to come. Uncertainty? I am consumed by it. The clock is ticking. Boston is only 111 days away. I have 111 days to go from walking three miles to running 26.2.

If you know me, which I think you do, you know I never give up. I am nothing if not stubbornly determined. I give everything 100%. If there is any possible way I can do this, I will do it. Yes, my body might say no, but I can’t entertain that thought. It’s simply not a possibility.

Be Fearless

If you make only one resolution this year, let it be to live boldly. You control this moment: Rather than cautiously test the water, dive straight into life with freeing abandon. Imagine the person you want to be and the life you want to live, then simply commit to them. Believe in yourself. Embrace your beauty. Discover a new passion. And whatever you do, wherever you go, don’t be afraid to make a splash (from Self January 2011).

Did I mention I signed up to do a Half Ironman in August?

Diving in,

SUAR

Who’s Steve?

Ken gets me a new Christmas ornament every year. I started this tradition during our first Christmas together when I excitedly proclaimed, “We should get each other a new ornament every year!”  These are the kinds of things we girls say because it sounds really cute and very couple-like.  Kind of like writing your own vows and wearing matching sweaters and asking each other what the other is thinking when it’s quiet. My guess is men might hate these things, but I don’t know for sure. Do you?

Since I’m all about being cute and bossy and controlling, I insisted that this ornament thing happen.

Yesterday was our 15th Christmas in marital bliss. I stopped giving ornaments about 14 Christmases ago. I’m lame. But, NOOOO, Ken had to continue, just to show me up. Little characteristics of our personalities continue to emerge over the years, and his adherence to the ornament rule gives him points for continued determination, dependability and creativity.  I just continue to get more controlling and crude.

In reality, those gifts are my favorites every year because they’re nothing if not unique. You can see some others HERE.

This year ornament boy really outdid himself:

If you watched this video of me skydiving in September, then you know the minute I hit ground I looked at the photographer and said, “Holy Shit, Steve!” Hence, the ornament.

Good relationships are about remembering and honoring the little stuff. Giving gifts that tell the receiver, “I know you. I love you. I care about what you care about.”

Holy shit, Ken. You outdid yourself again. (I also got an iPad, which might have scored some additional points).

Get anything good this year?

Back with MRI results tomorrow,

SUAR

PS: If you want to read about someone who is less materialistic than I, and truly gets the meaning of Christmas, go HERE.

Wish Lists

No, I am not writing on Christmas Day. This was written on Christmas Eve to publish on Christmas Day. What do you think I am? Obsessed by blogging? A mother who leaves her children alone to open gifts? A wife who ignores her husband on the birthday of our savior?

And you, what are YOU doing reading blogs on Christmas Day?

I did want to say Merry Christmas to all of you! You’ve made my last couple of months actually kind of bearable and even a tad bit of fun.

I leave you with this in the SUAR holiday spirit:

Glad I didn't send Santa a wish list this year (wouldn’t like it to be tarnished),

SUAR

The Journals

It’s Christmas Eve. I’m sick with a cold. So is Sam. There is no snow in Colorado this year. The dog will not stop licking himself there. But, it is all perfect. Really, it is.

For every annoyance, setback and sad story, it seems there are ten blessings, comebacks and joys.

You just have to know where to look. And, what to focus on.

I have kept a journal since I was eight years old. It started as a small rectangular baby blue diary with a lock and key.

I used to write in it daily – this was before I did much soul searching. It was really about relaying the events of the day. “Today I had oatmeal. I was sick so I stayed home and played with myself” (get your mind out of the gutter). Or, on August 16, 1977, when I was ten years old, “Today Elvis died. I hated him but some people didn’t.” I would say I hated him. I didn’t even know him. What I probably meant was I didn’t care for his music.

As the years progressed, the journals became full of relentless soul searching, a quest for happiness and peace of mind, questioning about love and why my heart was breaking so much of the time.

There was the undying crush on someone who turned out to be gay , the depression that held me down during my first year of college (“I really wish I had someone to talk too. How I hate being so unhappy”), the seven year relationship that had more ups and downs and heartache than should have ever been allowed (“All I want is to have someone love me as intensely and powerfully as I love them”), the meeting of Ken (I guess they say you know when it is right. I’m feeling pretty right”). And the spontaneous move to Colorado with him a year later.

Two cars. All of our belongs. No jobs. No place to live. No friends. No family. 2,500 miles from home. An adventure.

In all of these volumes of paper are common threads and themes. Insecurity. Love of family. Spiritual crises. Not feeling good enough. Knowing good things awaited, just not knowing when. It wasn’t all bad. I had many, many good years and memories. But I tended to write about the tough stuff, the self reflection:

“I want to be a vehicle, a vessel for God’s work – let him put me to work where I have the most potential, the most passion to make a difference.”

Browsing over these books makes me smile through tears. I want to reach out to that girl and tell her it will be okay.  That she will find the confidence to settle into her own life. That she will meet the “right one.” That two little precious people would call her “mommy” one day. That she would wake up Christmas Eve 2010 and be completely full to the brim with the good stuff.

It’s not all perfect. Please.

Mostly, what I want to tell me back then is that “you were enough just how you were.” More than enough.

18 years old. December 1985 (25 years ago):

“You know what I realize…how important it is to be your own self with personal identity. I find that hard sometimes – to do what I want not what others want…”

She was onto something even back then. It just takes some time to fully embrace the act of being yourself. And, knowing what you have to give back.

I don’t know what all this means, just some ramblings about my journey and how it continues to evolve.

Have you ever kept a journal? Why/why not? What do you think when you look back at stuff?

Merry Christmas my friends. May today find you at peace and able to see the blessings around you.

SUAR

Bodacious

I am totally pressed for time today. So, here’s how it went down this morning.

7:25 a.m. – MRI. 40 minutes lying still on a board listening to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, even though I asked for Christmas music. I hate being told I can’t move. Because then all I want to do is move. It’s like: don’t think about the word “bodacious.” All you can think of is the word “bodacious.” Don’t laugh in church. Don’t cut one during your final exam. All these taboos.

I did fart during the MRI. Do you think that shows up on the scan? Fortunately its so loud in there, no one could hear.

Fortunately it was an open MRI machine, so I didn’t have a panic attack like last time where I frantically started squeezing the alarm thing while my heart rate climbed to 200 bpms. Are you okay? they questioned. No, get me out of here, I retorted loudly. Then I spent the next 30 minutes with my neck cranked back so I could see the room behind me. I went to some crazy happy place in my mind with wine, flying colors, finish lines and soft breezes.

Bodacious.

Today, they gave me the DVD with my results. Problem is I am not a radiologist, so I have no clue what I’m looking at. It could be the cross section of Dean’s bicep for all I know. Can someone come over and read them for me, please?

Laying on that hard table for 40 minutes I had a lot of time to think. What appetizer should I make for Christmas Eve? Damn this board hurts my lower back. Where’s my Christmas music? I asked for Christmas music. Will I have time to workout today? If I have a margarita at lunch can I still work out? My throat’s scratchy. I have to fart. Ahhhh.

And, so it went. Results? I have no results. If it is bad news, I don't want to know today anyway. Merry Christmas, your hip is still broken.

Biggest hug to Laurie for my secret Santa gift. It is the best ever and I haven’t taken it off since I got it. Except in the MRI machine. Laurie, you did it up right. Thank you so so much.

I am someone’s secret Santa. So, if you haven’t gotten your gift yet, I could be yours. It was sent out last week, but who knows if its reached its final destination. It has to do with a toilet. Big surprise.

Off for hair cut and coloring. Bodacious.

SUAR

Seeking the Best

I was talking to some moms/fellow runners at a party tonight. Yes, I have friends. And, I sometimes even get invited to parties. I try to behave.

{Not two minutes after leaving the party and getting in the car, however, I let one fly. Ken says, “Nice, hon. Wait all night to get into an enclosed area with your family and let one rip. Classy.”}

But, I digress. Why is it always about farts around here? Stop getting me off subject.

Anyway, the moms were all commenting how we have these ideals about the holidays – we expect it to be all Christmas music and baking cookies and board games and smiles. We have visions of sipping hot chocolate by the fire and getting lost in the the beauty of family and the holiday spirit.

But, then the shit hits the fan. The kids start bickering. The one-eyed dog is pissing on the floor and staring at you with his good eye. The Christmas tree is dropping needles and you get your period. You find yourself having this out of body experience where you’re yelling at the kids so hard your vein is popping out of your neck and your voice is shaking.

One friend admitted throwing unwrapped Christmas gifts at her son. Another talked about months of trying to get her kid to take off his muddy shoes before entering the house. Finally, yesterday, she lost her mind and just started shouting, “SHOES! SHOES! SHOES!” uncontrollably and without any ability to stop. Happy holidays.

We’ve got the ideal. Then, we’ve got the reality. It’s not just about the holidays and kids. It’s about life.

I’ve always thought the point at which we lose it is when our reality does not meet our expectations. We have this plan of how things should go. The race. The fancy dinner. The vacation. The family reunion. Then there is the way things really do go. What gets us in trouble is that nothing ever goes as planned. Never. Yet, we keep doing it. Setting ourselves up.

I don’t know what the answer is. It’s tough to not have ideas about how you want things to be. It’s called dreaming and fantasizing.  I just know that every time I think I have it all figured out, this wrench steals its way into my scenario and takes over. Changing out the pieces, disorganizing my grand plan.

Case in point. Denver Marathon. I had plans. Grand plans. I was on track to bust my PR of 3:42 wide open. Every training run told me so. I could not in my wildest of dreams have thought up getting a hip stress fracture ten days out from the race. I worried about weather, crapping my pants, not keeping my pace, but NEVER this injury.

That’s the thing. It’s never ever what we expect. Yet, just in the way that we can’t anticipate the tragic and sad stuff, we can’t anticipate the good stuff. I could not of dreamed up a life for myself that is as good as the one I am living right now. The kids, the husband, my mom and dad, life in Colorado, opportunity. Blessing after blessing. So, it works both ways.

What does all this mean? Personally, I like having high hopes and expectations for my life, so I don't want to give that up. But, I also want to be able to roll with the punches when things don’t go as planned.

I have the sweetest book called, “A Touch of Wonder.” A dear friend gave it to me about 20 years ago. It is filled with heartfelt stories, each with their own lessons. My wedding vows came out of this book.

I remember one story called, “The Search.” Very simply it spoke of a father and his kids going out to the country one day for a hike. The father happens upon the tombstone of a “beloved wife” who had died in 1865, during the Civil War. Beneath her name was the statement, “Ever she sought the best, ever found it.” This woman had lived through a horrible war, fraught with losses and devastation. Yet, she always looked for the best and somehow always found it.

“What you look for in life, you will surely find. But, the direction you look is up to you. You don’t have to look very far. No one does. It’s around us all the time, the goodness, the wonder, the abundance of living. The miracle of it all.”

You see the damn rain, I see the earth soaking up goodness
I see unending traffic, you see a chance to talk and sing with the kids
You see extra fat around your middle, I see someone who made great babies
I see ugly wrinkles, I see years of wisdom and experience

It’s all about perspective. Attitude. Making the most of it all.

Ever seeking the best,

SUAR

The Many Faces of Me

Stupid iTouch app. Sam’s been having a blast with this one.

This summer he made me old (and a meth user):

Then fat:

Today was the worst. He made me bald. With a mullet.  I think it really makes my eyes pop.

Clearly I need a pickup truck with a gun rack and a case of Schlitz to round out the year.

It’s humbling. It’s disturbing. I’m going back to bed.

Merry Christmas from me to you.

SUAR

Between the Sheets

You know I love Vegas. You know I love the pussy posse. But, who ever thought the two would meet in perfect harmony? Stephanie let me know I have inspired the shirts for a friend's bachelorette party in Vegas this year (Pussy Posse 2011). Going to have to get some pictures of that one. Thanks for the Stylish Blogger Award too!

Moving on…I don’t know why I get so hung up on fortunes. You know the ones from the cookies. It’s not like they’re the gospel or anything, but I always take them as some sort of an omen. From yesterday’s lunch:

What do you take this to mean? Good or bad news?   The only significant news I have this week is coming from my MRI on Thursday. Technically I don’t get the news until next week when I see my doc.

Naw, it has nothing to do with the MRI. It probably just means I’ll get news that that really was a turd on the bottom of the pool or that the toilet really is clogged for good.

I covered up Lucky’s non-existent eye with the fortune for some luck.

I put it on my forehead for good vibes.

Speaking of fortunes, did you ever play that game “Between the Sheets"? 

The deal with the game is that you take whatever fortune you get, read it, and add “between the sheets after.” For example – “This week you will be able to handle whatever comes your way between the sheets.” That’s what she said. Sounds like fun. More fun than a stupid MRI anyway. However, it didn’t seem appropriate to play yesterday at PF Changs since it was just me and the kids. So we played spin the bottle and quarters instead.

Are you superstitious about stuff?

Handling whatever comes my way,

SUAR

Why I Need My Own Pool

I’m getting tired of being on display at the pool. I need my own lap pool. I’m asking Santa. Just like Clark Griswold in Christmas Vacation. He wanted a pool. I hope I don’t end up with the Jelly of the Month Club too. Although Cousin Eddie says it is the gift that keeps giving all year long, so it can’t be that bad.

Here are the top three things that bugged me about the public pool today.

1. You can’t swim naked. My bathing suit is disintegrating before my eyes. The chlorine has eaten it away. I got home today from my 64 minute water running session (I said, 64 FREAKING MINUTES) and showed Ken the suit. When I held it up he said, “That is really see through. Those male lifeguards must love you!” What I hadn’t realized was that as the chlorine at up the suit, it also ate up the lining (Here’s a pic, it’s seriously not as bad as it looks. The sun added some dramatic affect. OK it’s bad. That’s one worn out piece of crap. Really good views of my boobs and torso). Where is my new grab bag suit???

2. Stuff in the pool. Today before I got into the DE (deep end) I noticed the lifeguard squatting down and trying to see something on the bottom of the pool. I looked too and saw something shaped like a turd. I asked him, “Is there anything I need to be concerned about on the bottom of the pool?” He said, “Oh, I’m just trying to figure out if that’s a hairball or not.” I responded,  “Oh, good. I thought it might be a turd.” He exclaimed, “Oh no! Nothing like that.” He didn’t even crack a smile. They take dumping in the pool very seriously. As they should. I’d rather swim with a hairball than a floater any day.

3. One on One. At noon the pool cleared out. It was just me and the lifeguard. Awkward. Kind of like being in an elevator for a really long time with a stranger. For some reason I wouldn’t feel awkward if I was swimming, but to be bobbing around in the deep end water running somehow made me feel like a dork on display.

Picture of the week. Yesterday was my nephew’s sixth birthday party. At a roller rink. Haven't been to one since doing the couple’s skate in fifth grade with Casey. I tore it up. Pretty soon I was flying around the rink on my broken hip doing the fancy cross over turns every chance I got. I was a star, something to behold.  See? I’m singing Van Halen. Even that guy behind me is standing back in adoration.

To make up for my ghastly skating, Emma agreed to pose with me for a mom/daughter shot. I love that girl. She’s eating a pixie stick. Remember those?

I have some news to share, but can’t. Hopefully soon. I’m not pregnant. And, I’m not really a man.

Wishing I liked jelly more,

SUAR

So, Thank You

70 days ago I went out for an 8 mile run.

It was the final ten days before the Denver Rock ‘n Roll Marathon. Four months of hard training and I was almost done. I felt pain in my piriformis and left hamstring, but was in the mindset of, “It's supposed to hurt, your training for a marathon. Don’t be a baby. Shut up and do this.” As I approached the turn around point, I decided to kick it into high gear and to see if I could sustain some 7:30 minute miles. I was flying, feeling on top of the world. Nothing could stop me. Until it did stop me.

One mile from home my hip gave out. A sudden, sharp pain with impact. I NEVER walk on runs. Never. Yet, I found myself hobbling home, humbled, defeated. “You pussy,” I told myself. Yet, I knew something was very wrong.

An MRI later that week confirmed the hip stress fracture. I was done. There would be no Denver Marathon. There would be no running for at least three months. Boston in April 2011 might be out of the picture. Hello f*cking crutches.

And just like that, I was done.

The loss of running was huge. But, I worried about something else. I thought if I couldn’t run, the blog was doomed. Who reads a running blog when the author of the blog can’t run, train or relay any sort of personal experience about her running?

But, you came back and stayed. Some new followers joined the party.  For that I am incredibly grateful. This injury has sucked, but without it there would have been no pussy posse. No tales of running in the pool. No idiotic posts about camel toes and devices that allow women to pee standing up. Because if I could have been running, those things would have been replaced by training and race recaps. Stories of crapping in trees and alongside roads.

What I know in my heart is that I am a runner and I love to run. Yet, running is not all of who I am. It does not define me completely. If I cannot run, I am still worth something. Maybe? There is life after and aside from running. Really, there is!!!!

From Zen and the Art of Running:

“When people are deprived of something they enjoy immensely, it is no surprise that they feel sorrow. Most injured runners have to learn to deal with this sorrow of loss. After my injury, I regretted features of running that I hadn’t even known I had enjoyed. Who would have thought I would miss waking up at 5 a.m., or that I liked feeling icicles forming on my eyelashes, or that icing my knees while watching the news was a great way to relax? But lurking behind the pain of loss was an attachment that only made things worse. At some point in my history of running I became attached to the idea that I was a RUNNER.”

Some of you asked how I stayed so positive during recovery. Wine!! And not taking myself so seriously. It’s not like I’m some elite athlete or something.

While I had some down moments mentally, there were not many of them. Here’s what really got me through (Again, from Zen and the Art of Running):

“Don’t ask yourself to to do something beyond your present ability; ask yourself what you need to do now to live a happy and fulfilled life. Now you are not a runner. That person is gone. Instead, you are a person with talents, skills, hobbies, interests and goals – and that’s what you should be pursuing.”

It sure will feel good to get out there again.

So, thank you for hanging in there with me. For your words of support, for your emails just to check in, for your advice. It has meant the world to me. Really, it has.

2nd MRI coming up on Thursday. If it’s clear, I start running again.

See you in Boston.

You guys rock (all 1035 of you),

SUAR

Last Minute Gifts–SUAR Style

‘Tis the season for gift giving. We all are sick of the standard gifts like fake dog poop and Snuggies. This year, get creative. Give your loved one something they will really remember.

Handerpants (thanks, Brutalism):

This is the perfect gift for that special someone who loves underpants, yet hates that they are hidden all day long. With these fingerless gloves, you can use a phone or typewriter, pick your nose or even flip someone off. Not recommended for wiping. Only $11.95 + shipping.

Crapola

Suggested to me by Beth (great name), Crapola’s motto is “Makes even weird people regular!”   Created by a husband and wife team, their recipe is simple: Cranberries + Apples + Granola = Crapola! As far as I know, it does not contain crap or anything related to feces. I always say, the couple who craps together stays together. $4.95 + shipping.

Penis Hat for the Guys:

I found this gem at www.Zazzle.com. Men tend to be obsessed by their penises. Some men are obsessed by running. This hat represents the place where the two meet. $26.90 + shipping.

Bacon Air Freshener

This unlikely Bacon Air Freshener is the perfect way to brighten any carnivore's day. Put one up in the family room and everyone will have a sudden craving for a BLT. Each has a handy string for hanging and measures about 4'' tall. $2.00 + shipping.

Instant Underpants

This product was obviously made with SUAR in mind. These underpants are conveniently compressed into a compact pellet. Just soak them with water momentarily and they'll loosen up so that you can pull them apart! And remember, it's better to have damp underpants than no underpants at all! $6.50 + shipping.

 

Don’t say I never contributed anything of value to your life or to the blogging world,

SUAR

About “Eating”

At any given time, most people would say they want to lose a few pounds, right? The reasons vary: wanting to look better, wanting to feel better, wanting to live longer. 

But, what about the quality of food that we eat, not just the amount?

I was recently sent an 88 minute DVD called, “Eating” produced by the Rave Diet.  Here are some highlights (Keep in mind, I am not saying I agree with or condone what was said, I am only reporting it back. Don’t de-pants the messenger!):

• In the 20th century most Americans moved away from a plant based diet to an animal based diet. This switch has vastly and dangerously increased the prevalence of heart disease, cancer, obesity and diabetes.
• Clogged arteries from animal fats (meat, dairy) restrict the flow oxygen through our blood. That means increased risk of stroke and heart disease.
• The only dietary source of cholesterol, which clogs our arteries, is animal foods
• 1/3 of heart attacks occur in people whose cholesterol is between 150-200 (the AMA’s current recommended level)
• Only having a cholesterol level of 150 or lower will guarantee a healthy heart and body
• The cure for cancer is a heightened immune system. This can only be obtained by eating a plant based diet. Animal based diets lower our immunities.
• We all have cancer in our bodies. It becomes widespread and problematic when our immune systems can’t fight it.
• By age 50 almost 50% of women have breast cancer in their bodies (detected and undetected). 40% of men have prostrate cancer.
• Cancer can be reversed by moving to a plant based diet. This means no meat, fish, dairy products or eggs.You will get plenty of protein and calcium on a plant based diet.
• Countries around the world who eat plant based vs. animal based diets have extremely low incidences of heart disease, diabetes and cancer.
• Eating a plant based diet is better for the environment. The manner in which the animals are treated who become our food source is inhumane.
• Switching to a plant based diet will make you a stronger endurance athlete.

I am not a vegetarian, yet we don’t eat a ton of meat around here. I cook all of our meals from scratch and we have at least two meat-free dinners per week. When I cook with meat, it is usually organic. I do have high cholesterol. It runs in my family. I always saw this as my destiny, but now I wonder with some dietary changes if I could lower my numbers. While I take issue with some of the information given and wonder what the research states, there is sense to be found in some of the statistics.

You can find lots of interesting articles and research on the above HERE.

One of the things I enjoyed most about the DVD was learning about Ruth Heidrich. At age 75, she is a six-time Ironman Triathlon finisher who has completed more than 60 marathons all over the world. And she’s still running 26.2 all over the globe!

As a runner and self-described “healthy eater,” Ruth was diagnosed with breast cancer at age 47. She was able to heal, she believes, in large part due to converting to a plant-based diet. You can read about her amazing comeback HERE. Her ten rules to save your life are:

1. Eat a diet of fruits and vegetables, preferably organic.
2. Eat them raw as much as possible.
3. Eat them whole, never processed or refined.
4. Emphasize high-antioxidant foods: berries, leafy greens, and add nuts/seeds if losing too much weight.
5. Make your beverage water and/or green tea.
6. No drugs including caffeine.
7. No alcohol or cigarettes..
8. Exercise daily, time and intensity depending on your level of fitness.
9. Sleep should follow natural rhythm with no alarm clocks or other disturbances.
10. Breathe air as clean and pure as possible.

What do you think? Are you a vegan or vegetarian? Do you follow a plant based diet? If so, do you do it for ethical or health reasons or both?

I would love to send this DVD on to someone to watch and review. If you are interested, leave a comment telling me why you want to know more and I’ll pick someone in the next week. If you get it, then you can send it on when you’re done…

Going to eat a 16 oz. Porterhouse wrapped in bacon with a side of meatballs,

SUAR

Shart Brownies

Jason over at Life of an Aspiring Triathlete really does it up right. Not only is he training for his first 70.3 (half ironman) in April 2011, but he is a crafty and unique cook. He has started a segment on his blog called “The Athletes Plate” where he creates a menu to fit a particular blogger’s qualities and characteristics. All recipes are healthy and pretty easy to make.

Guess who is highlighted today? Yours truly. Go take a look at recipes for such things as Shart Brownies (I don’t think that’s corn in there) and Oatmeal with brown SUgAR. The Tootin’ Torta Rustica looks pretty tasty too. Yes, Jason could have gone with Kovas’ suggestion of broth with Baby Ruth’s floating around in it, but he took the high road.

Leave me a comment here and just maybe I will nominate you to be featured on the next Athlete’s Plate!

In celebrity news, I got an email from Dean K. today.  I had told him he was on our Christmas card. His response?

Not worthy? Give me a break. Okay, maybe if you could run 400 miles at one time rather than just 350 you would be worthy. Or, if you could run from here to Greece on water, well, then you might be worthy.

Then he gave me a P.O. box cause he for sure knows I would stalk his house. I might even stalk the P.O. box just for the hell of it.

Going to hang out with “the clan,”

SUAR

Finally, Women Are Equal

I so love it when you guys think of me when you: a) take a dump, pass gas or have any other humiliating or entertaining experience involving bodily fluids, b) see a product or item that has to do with a bodily fluid (porto potty, portable toilet, ad for Depends on TV, whoopee cushion, you name it).

That’s why I loved getting an email from Jill yesterday saying, “This just reminded me of you.”

Don’t know what it is? Neither did I. At first I thought it was funnel for beer bongs. Or, perhaps a miniature vase in which one could deliver flowers. A fancy wine glass?

Heck no!! It’s a device to help women pee while standing up. Anywhere. Anytime. Discreetly.

“Simply put, GoGirl is the way to stand up to crowded, disgusting, distant or non-existent bathrooms.  It’s a female urination device (sometimes called a FUD) that allows you to urinate while standing up. It’s neat. It’s discreet. It’s hygienic.
GoGirl is easy to use.  Just lower your panties, and put GoGirl against your body, forming a seal.  Aim and, well, pee.  Pretty simple, huh?

GoGirl fits easily in your purse, pocket, or glove compartment. It’s a must for travel and sports. And it’s great for everyday––no more crouching over or trying to cover up an unsanitary public toilet.”

This opens up so many doors for us women. How many times have you been on a long car ride where the men in the vehicle pull out an empty soda bottle and relieve themselves, yet when you try to do the same, you are taunted. And, you make a mess. How many times have you been on a run and your male running partner barely has to slow his stride to whip it out and take a leak? Meanwhile, you are scouring the landscape for any bush or rock that will hide your bare ass when you drop trou and squat? Don’t even get me started on camping trips.

Heather from Minnesota was even able to avoid waiting in the long lines for the girl’s bathroom at a concert. She simply used her GoGirl in the men’s urinal!

“I was recently at a concert and of course having to use the restroom NEVER comes at a convenient time. I left my friends to use the restroom and arrived just in time to be number 463 in line to use the ladies room. As I was standing in line I realized that while there was a HUGE line for the ladies room, there was no wait for the men's room. Two girls were coming out of the men's room and joined me in line. I over heard them talking about how they cleverly tried using the men’s room but there were NO stalls only urinals. It suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks... I had a GoGirl my aunt had given me in my purse! I headed into the men’s room and used the go girl to go in the urinals!! I have never been SO excited and empowered.”

Genius!

Finally, we are equal in the urinating department. I cannot believe it’s taken this long.

1920: Women earned the right to vote
2009: Women earned the right to pee standing up

I emailed GoGirl to see if they would send me a product to try and review. Waiting to hear back…

Now, if they could just come up with one that helps you crap while standing/running. That would really be something.

Can’t wait to try the urinal,

SUAR

Boston is Longer

Today I went to yoga for the first time in a month. My hip did not fall off onto the floor, even when I did Warrior 3 pose (requiring all weight on one leg). This is not me. I am not a baby. Except for the diaper part:

It might truly be possible that I can run by the first of the year. We will see. I still have some pain and major tightness in the hip area, so I know I am continuing to heal. An MRI at the end of the month should give the final word.

This week my doc said that I need to view Boston as a long training run, not a race. We agreed that even if I cannot return to running until mid to late January, I can probably still pull out 26.2 miles in April given my fitness base. We also talked a lot about possible training errors and what I could focus on next time:

• Running my long runs slower. My long runs should be 8:59-9:59 (McMillan Calculator). Mine were usually well under 8:50.
• Watching heart rate, doing most long runs and easy runs in zone 2 (60%-70% of max heart rate). I do my long runs at way too high a heart rate.
• Not upping speed and distance in the same week. I really tried to do this, but in hindsight I failed.
• I did not put in big miles while training. I topped out at 50 miles per week. However, I ignored my body a lot. My left piriformis and hamstring hurt the entire training cycle. I am pretty sure this messed with my form and contributed to the left hip fracture. I was tired for most of my runs and even dreaded some of them because I always ended up pushing too hard and wearing myself down.

Live and learn. These strategies aren’t for everyone, but I think they could help me stay healthy. I am determined to not find myself in this place again. I know completely being void of injuries might not be possible, but there are some things I can do to decrease the risk and frequency of injury. I still plan on having biomechanical testing (gait analysis) and may be a good candidate for orthotics.

The posse at the pool asked how I injured myself. I told them running. After they sang the praises of working out in the pool and how good it is for your body, I let them know I was hoping to run another marathon in April. And not in the pool. “Tsk, tsk,” they said. “Which one?” they asked. I told them Boston. Then one lady responded, “Oh…I hear that is a long one.”

Yes, because not all marathons are the same distance.

I leave you with this insightful piece of news from the paper this morning.

At first I thought “Oh poor guy. Trying to break up a dog fight and getting bitten.” Then I read the part about putting his hand in the mouth and you don’t want to know what I thought.

Staying out of the dog’s mouth,

SUAR

Grab Bag

I’ll admit it. I like to live on the edge. Sprinkling blue cheese crumbles on my salad. Spiking my eggnog with a tad ‘o rum. Taking a chance on a fart (darn it, another shart).

That’s why I voluntarily risked a bathing suit. It’s this thing called a grab bag - HERE.

You pay way less than the retail price ($13.99 for this mystery suit) and accept your fate.

Some might call this foolish and risky. After all, you could end up with something like this:

Or this:

But to me, playing it safe is over rated.

Here’s my promise to you. No matter what hideous thing comes my way, I will wear it and wear it proud. I get a suit in the pattern of the U.S. flag? I’m all over it in all it’s patriotic beauty. Bugs bunny and road runner running up and down my ass? I’m there.

The pussy posse won’t know what hit ‘em.

I’ll let you know when it gets here.

Ever done the grab bag thing? How’d it work out?

Okay, I’m off to yoga. Here’s hoping Pigeon Pose doesn’t kill my hip.

Hoping for the best or at least a good photo op,

SUAR