“Brrrrrrrr-ing!”  The Time Out Clock announced that I can run again.  A small waif of a pain lingers in the shin.  Something to watch, ice, and proceed with caution.  However, I ran and hopefully this means I am returning to running.  A long, short three week vaca from the two stepping travel.  Although I have been sweating up a storm with enough gusto to make any hamster dizzy on stationary exercise machines, hard earned fitness has slipped away quickly.  Oh, it will come back, and hopefully with friends, but my first run back reminded me of two things.  First, I love to run!  Second, gravity knows my name and address.  Right foot, left foot, trot trot trot, easy it goes, nice and slow.  My feet felt oddly heavy and non-supportive of the activity that the body wanted to do.  My mind has not changed a lick.  She wanted to rip out into a fast pace, floating along trails, skipping over rocks, and challenging the body to keep up.  The greyhound in my head looked down to see poodle paws.  Trot, trot, and finally poof, walk, yap. 

And it has only been three weeks!  My inner mini-cheetah must still be in Aspen or something.  I think she has a time share there.  However, what joy the simple outdoor movement of huffing along in sneakers has brought me.  Breathing in the wet air ripe with scents of eucalyptus and dirt, exhaling stress.  Stress?  It has been a lovely quiet Christmas what stress could I possibly have.  Ummm, hello, any good type A can always find something to stress over.  What about the silver lining in everything?  Oh yes, of course, that outlines the stress!

I have had a wonderful, challenging, and successful 2009.  The beginning of the year brought disappointment as I got sucked into the black hole of anemia, lost our rental home, performed  poorly at Carlsbad, moved to a new home that almost burned down…..but did not!  By the middle of May, I was looking to turn the year around.  The State Street Mile untapped a new runner in me.  Crossing the line in third, I was so ecstatic at my time that someone asked me if I knew that I did not win.  Yes, I was aware.  Did you see that clock?  My legs do not go that fast!  Oh, yes they do!  I got to see that runner three more times the rest of the year.  She came out on a quiet friday night to the All Comers Carpinteria Track Meet where I took 4 seconds off my 800 meters PR and then turned around and took 15 seconds off my 3K time like I was out for a Sunday run.  She showed up to Westmont and flashed the hook ‘em horns sign as she took the finish line.  Finally, she came back to me at the Santa Barbara International Marathon.  Thanks for giving me four fabulous races!  Thank you so much, so so much, that I would like to push the envelope and ask her for more appearances in 2010.  I dusted off the doormat and I can pull out the sofa if she would like to move in permantly and not just visit.  Heck, she can have my bed!  I’ll take the sofa. 

I think I am being reasonable.  Last year, I resolved to hit 17:15 in the 5K and 36:30 in the 10K.  I did neither, despite being thrilled by the above listed races.  Naturally, those two numbers roll over to the 2010 hit list.  I am starting out with a lower fitness level than last December 31st, but as both Jim and Rusty have said, go backwards to go forward.  OK, I got the backwards part.

2010 hit list has several more numbers scribbled on there too.  It took me a year to figure out proper nutrition, proper sleep, efficient and fun training, and lastly perspective.  I learned a lot in 2009, but most importantly, I think I found perspective.  I can handle the downs well enough to make sure that I truly enjoy the ups.

So here’s to hopefully a bunch of running “ups!”  Happy New Year’s Eve!  I am off to trot or walk or both, but I am out!  Yippee!

Pony Power

Christmas day, I walked three laps around the rose gardens at the mission with pain.  Boxing day I briskly walked after my two year old peddling a tricycle through Shoreline park with no pain.  Naturally, I am therefore cured!  OK, maybe not, but that did not stop me from taking the next step.  Let’s see, Rusty said, “No running until it is perfect.”  Perfect?  Nope.  Let’s see, so again, Friday I walked about 1/27th of a mile, Saturday I walked about half a mile, so yep, yes, okee dokee smokey, Sunday I am surely ready to strapped my toddler to my back and hike her from my house up to Inspiration Point and then back down making the loop. 

Hey, I did not run.  Remarkably, the left shin felt pretty close to normal, but ah-ha Running Gods laugh, the right calf squawked for attention precisely to the point behind the knee.  Or maybe that is normal for carrying a singing thirty pound load for four hours door to door?  Another round of ice bartender please!

In addition to singing Frosty the Snowman, pretending I am a dwarf from Snow White, and picking wild flowers only to have them beaten against my head by the traveling misses, I was officially deemed “Mommy the Pink Pony.”

“Pretend you are a pink pony and I the baby, a-kay?” she says in her adorable sugary chatter.  The silver lining on the morning shined so bright, I needed some cheap sunglasses.  The last time I hiked with my daughter was over a year ago.  I have been too busy running!  We covered all my favorite Santa Barbara terrain at a gingerly sweet & slow pace and it was magical.  A year from today, she will most likely be too big for me to Sherpa along.  Wait, a minute, [crack] oh, yeah, she’ll be too big.

We toted her prized poochie D.O.G. aka Van Douglas or just the one and only doggie along for the ride.  Like a traveling gnome, he had some good times.

Sing it Snow!  Hi-HO!

Freshen Up!

D.O.G.

Maybe it is for the pleasing of others, maybe it is because I can be anything but idle, whatever reason rocks your crockpot, I cannot stop cooking.  My family is loving this injury that suddenly turned an always out the door mom on the run to one that they not only cannot get rid of, but that does not stop plopping home cooked happiness into their gullets.  Kill them with kindness?  Or maybe just a variety of gluten free baked goods.  Gulp.  We are going to have to knock this out in the new year.

Christmas eve is a perfect opportunity to feast on something special.  I made out my menu and sent my husband to “hunt” up the ingredients.  Rosemary crusted rack of lamb, five spiced fingerling potatoes, and warm beet salad with toasted pecans rounded out our table.  I chopped and smeared and flipped boned Mary’s pet around on my prep plate all the while singing Away In A Manger.  Suddenly, I had to pause as I wondered if there was some taboo at eating lamb on Christmas.  Afterall, Jesus is the Lamb of God.  Oh Baaaaaa-humbug and the answer is apparently no, happy birthday Lamb of God, Mary pass the mint, and sheep is a nice sweet meat.

I gnawed guilt free on succulent chewable fat.  Although, I may avoid a petting zoo for a little while.  At Christmas eve service, my son draped a lamb costume on backwards from his little blonde head and then proceeded to baaa and baaa and baaa, baaa, baaa, during a re-enactment of the nativity.  The Christmas tree glowed in the back ground and he bleated about a giggling Mary and Joseph.  There is nothing like holy irony.  Oh Holy Night.  [Burp] Excuse me, lamb, hmmmm need a mint.  Perhaps that is why there are candy canes?

Sherpard’s staff?  Lost sheep?  Poor sheep.  Before you judge, who got UGG boots for Christmas?  Ah? A-ha!

Christmas more than any other time of the year allows us to rejoice in our blessings.  If you can by pass the holiday fudge, bandage up the paper cuts, zen through the traffic, ignore the credit card bills, the honey glazed ham, the gingerbread men with M&M eyes that seem to be made only for you, then maybe you can find the time to sit back and sip in all your hard work and all the joyous gifts that you probably knew you had, but maybe, just for a little while you forgot how much they really glisten.

Each year finds me happier than the next.  What an amazing thing to age into joy.  Of course I could be just on one side of the hill, in that case, do not inform me because I like the climbing part the best.  I walked my children past the library and as my eyes followed a being running left and another little one turning right, my ears picked up the conversation of two shabbily dressed gentlemen sitting on a stone step.

“Happy people see the silver lining,” one man says to the other.  “It is their positive nature that when they get bad news, they see the good.  Sad people see the bad in everything.”  I almost wanted to ask them if they were talking to me.  Who sent you?

How many times have I failed to see all the beauty surrounding me?  Too many.  Daily life hum drums along and sometimes I cross an entire day off in the day planner with all the heartfelt joy of well, another one done.  It will not be long before I wish for all these days back again.

I think back to times that were difficult, really difficult, and I smile at the love surrounding me today.  This Christmas finds me more at peace than the last.  The last one more happy than the one before and the one before that.  My blessings are growing despite me sometimes neglecting to water the perspective.

My son races around the house dressed as Batman and whines about a “lost candy can.”  He tugs at my sleeve and whispers his masked face into my shoulder, “I need help!”  The tantrum grows over a missing hooked sugar stick.  I want to sit and write about all my Christmas joy!  Oh, ha, ha, I get it.

To the Bat mobile!

I cannot run.  I thought the shin would request two weeks off, but now I am thinking she’s going to plug for closer to a month.  I am not a patient patient.

I warned my class this morning that Santa is watching.  I threaten my son with those mighty words repetitively throughout the day.  Santa is watching?  God is watching.  My children are watching me.  The absence of ten days of running greatly affects my mood.  I think it will be better when I can at least go for a walk, but for now I punch the elliptical cycle like it insulted me personally.  I close my eyes while paddling my feet around and around ever closer to nowhere and I imagine that I am running up a wildflower speckled hill.

A shin splint is not a tragedy.  Suck in that lower lip Miss Priss.  Turn that frown upside down.  Don’t you have a pocket full of sunshine?  Why yes, yes I do.

I cannot do the Bikram.  I cannot lock my knee.  I am going back to the baking.  This afternoon the littles and I will be making:

Cherry cranberries, peppermint truffle brownies, gluten free cinnamon rolls, apple pie, cherry pie, and spicy carrot ginger soup.  That way our eyes will be fully keen to see all the sweets!

No sooner does the word sex drip from my lips than instantly like the lyrics to some catching jingle it follows me around like Charlie Brown’s doom gloom black cloud.  Mostly cloudy, 90% chance of lewd thoughts.  At least I know I am not ready for the crypt.  The engine turned over before the weekly set up.  Set up?  I could not have set this stage in mere randomness of the conscience.

Tuesday I find myself up against a stadium seat in a dark theater viewing Stephanie Meyer’s New Moon.  I read the teeny vamp books.  All runners should actually.  The vampires are not only rich, gorgeous, and sparkle, but they run really really fast.  What’s not to love?  Blah, blah, blah, Bella hits her head, starts bleeding, and young Jacob, not a vamp but a wolf man, rips his shirt off to dab her leaking cranium.  Men of the world, drop and give me 4,000!  A little familiar voice echoed in the dark auditorium, “Um, I’m bleeding.”  Then I gnawed at a hang nail, “Help.”  Legal Eagle, tell me that lad is 18.  Twirling hair, I laugh at the absuridity of it all.  Then I blush.  Then I snicker.  Tee hee hee.

Wednesday finds me sipping a deep Cab under the rainbowed holiday lights of SoHo watching my friend and her companions perform belly dancing.  Need I say more?

For a culture so intent on hiding women away, when they allow them to perform the dance is incredibly erotic, a celebration of women’s fertility.  Hmmmmm.  As an American girl flipping through fashion magazines viewing the perfection of the airbrushed flushed by anorexia, I was amazed and inspired to watch bellies of all sizes roll, jiggle, taunt, and sexually shake up the audience.

By now you would think I would be done, um nope.  Today I went to Bikram Yoga.  In a room sopping of 105 degrees, we all wore close to nothing.  I watched sweat roll down my body pooling into swamps at my feet.  My veins flushed, my fingers and toes pruned as though I was sitting in a hot bath of my own juices.  The room was filled with the rhythmic breathing of exhaling and inhaling.  This was not sticky, this was dripping.  A flush of inner toxins and worries.  I found myself unable to do many of the instructed moves.  I particularly disagreed with the repetitive instruction to “lock your knee.”  Oh sweetie, I’m from Texas.  And as a Texan we all know that when standing in a sweltering afternoon heat you most definitely do not lock your knees unless you desire to hit the deck like a sack of corn. 

I left loopy, weak in the knees, and talking funny.  Just like a Texan, oh hot dam!

However, even with all this multi-structured fun, I just want to run.  The gimp leg drags on.  OK, what’s next to try?

I suffered four injuries this year, but this is the only one that has sidelined me from the actual act of running.  I have had some nasty setbacks, anemia, Achilles, back, hamstrings, hips, yep, something usually hurts.  I am a runner therefore this and this and that and these ache.  What?

I am two weeks post Splenda withdrawal and still sleeping fabulously.  I am 10 days past the marathon and all the muscles and joints feel buttery and happy minus the six inch strip of mutiny from the shin colony.  Their little uprising has me parked on the sidelines.  Muscles and joint cavities rejoice while my mind turns hamster wheels.  Can I run yet?  No.

Alternate activities pile on my plate.  Pilates and homemade soups.  Vacuuming and scrapbook organizing.  Sorting sports bras alphabetically by color.  Just kidding.  However, something else, something other, oh brother, sneaks into my brain.  I have covered just about everything, but not everyth-ang, so why not coffee talk sugar in the raw.

“Could you speak English, please.”

Sex.  I am talking about ssssssssssssex.  I have not thought about sex, the act of sex, the sport of sex, in a really long time.  I run and I run and I run and “not now hon!  I am tired from the run.”  Seriously, give me back my pillow.  Do men performing at peak athleticism suffer this libido loss as well?  Do other women?  Or is it just me adding another card to my crazy collection.

Apparently, research shows it is common in over training.  Gosh, I keep hearing that.  Do you think I over train?  “Um, yes, yes we do.”  So falling in love with your running shoes is not normal?  “No, probably not.”  So you’re saying other people running a race are thinking about sex?  “Yep, they are.  Some more than others.”  They are not only thinking faster, stronger, harder, longer?  “Oh, we didn’t say they weren’t thinking that.”

[Blush]

You devil.

“The Koala is out of the tree.”

Is that code?  Sort of, remember?  Decode.  I cannot run.  Everything on me feels ultra fit except for one six inch long muscle running over the anterior lateral part of my left shin.  Ah, the left shin.  I am a lefty when it comes to injury.  I am not sure why, but the trend is consistent.  Left TMJ, left shoulder pain when I swim, left hip pain in pregnancy, left knee trouble, left ankle problem and now ringing in with a kick in the shins, a left shin splint.

Woe……is……me.  Maybe not.  Running just sent me on a mandatory government vacation.  “Pack your box, clean up your desk, and we’ll see you in hopefully not too long,” the running Gods decree.  “Don’t worry, this will give you time to do all the others things in life like…um…like, well, there is….Chubs, help me out here?”

I can take some time off.  Sure, yeah.  That will be OK.  I mean, it will be good for me.  Am I better yet?

Nice Numbers!

Hey Digit Divas!  I just wanted to remind you, Chrystee & Michelle, just how wonderful you are!  I love you ladies!

Sore legs?  Cupcake?  Anyone, anyone?

For some of us, The Santa Barbara International Marathon was close to 9 months of training, 3 to 4 hours of labor, and one last push, ahhhhhh bouncing baby PR.  Goo-goo, or was that Gu Brew?  Regardless, there was far more than a few amazing performances at the inaugural event.  The “academy” would like to recognize:

John Lofthus 2:45:38.  John was 4th overall and averaged 6:19 per mile.  He ran the third fastest finish of the day.

Tim Strand 2:51:02 PR.  Tim was 7th overall, ran the fourth fastest finishing kick of the day, and won his age group.

Eric Forte 2:51:12.  Eric was 8th overall, ran the fifth fastest finishing kick, and did not need his bus fare!

Andrea McLarty 2:52:23 PR.  I was 11th overall and ran the sixth fastest finishing kick of the day.

Mike Shalhoub 2:53:40 PR.  Mike was 14th overall and 3rd in his age group.

Ricky Ho 2:56:56 PR.  Ricky took 6th in his age group and yet another PR as this was his first marathon.

Gene Deering 2:58:05.  Gene was 20th overall, 5th in his age group, and loving the girlie cheer along the way!

Chrystee Bradley 3:00:28.  Chrystee was seconds from second place, took 3rd female overall, took 2nd in her age group, and ran a perfectly even race.

Michelle McToldridge 3:00:43 PR.  Michelle was seconds from third place, took 4th female overall, took 3rd in her age group, and ran a perfectly even race.

Shigy Suzuki 3:03:59.  Shigy was 42nd overall.

Tekle Menelik 3:07:29.  Tekle was 10th in age group and 53rd overall.

Jeff Devine 3:07:35 PR.  Jeff was 11th in age group and 55th overall.

Laura Turner 3:08:52.  Laura was 7th female overall and 5th in age group.

Dave Thompson 3:14.  Dave was 11th in age group.

Susie Adams NAILS 3:15:13 PR!!!  Suzie was 10th female over all and 2nd in age group.

Kent Harris 3:16:05.  Kent was 18th in age group.

Leif Reynolds 3:16:44.  Leif left a lot behind!  We Leif you!

Phil Gans 3:17.  Phil was 7th in his age group.

Rob Ramirez 3:18.  Rob was 21st in age group.

Fred Maggiore 3:18.  Fred was 8th in his age group.

Hari Bhaskaran 3:19:12 PR!  And he was worried he would not finish!

Matt Tarka 3:20:15 PR!  Matt’s marathon debut and a very nice start!

Betsy Spaulding 3:21:39.  Betsy WON her age group!  Betsy was 6th in AGE GRADED performance!!!

Brian Dutter 3:22:39.  Brian was the 12th in his age group, but by far the brightest.

Jerry Jackintell 3:22:52 PR!  Great job Jerry!

Desa Mandarina 3:26:50 PR!  Wonderful Job Desa! XOXO!

Joe Macphee 3:28:51.  The first person to sign up for the SBIM took 35th in his age group.

Johnny Stein 3:28:52.  Johnny placed 2nd in his age group!

Prahlad Kilambi (KP) 3:29.  KP was 41st in his age group.

Gina Fennell 3:29:58.  Fabulous Gina!

Troy Hinshaw 3:30.  Troy was 27th in his age group.

Jill Christ 3:31.  Jill was 41st female overall and 8th in her age group.

Brett Larsen 3:33.  Brett was 34th in his age group.

John Nelson 3:33.  John took 20th in his age group.

Paula Waldman 3:35.  Paula grabbed 7th in her age group and look fantastic doing it.

Heidi Heitkamp 3:35:29.  Heidi was 8th in her age group!

Rob Simes 3:37.  Rob was 39th in his age group.

Jay Hennigan 3:37.  Jay took 5th in his age grop and 95th on age graded performance.

Debra Powell 3:38.  Debra was 9th in her age group and 96th on age graded performance.

Amanda Nicolato 3:38.  Amanda was 62nd female overall and 5th in her age group.

Karen Bois 3:43.  Karen was 27th in her age group.

Nancy Kaplan 3:43.  Nancy WON her age group!!!!  Nice work!

Patty Bryant 3:44.  Patty was 6th in her age group and the 100th female.

Sarah Mandes 3:45:29.  Sarah was “fresh” off an IRONMAN.  Good grief woman!

Katie Kirkmere 3:51.  Katie was 15th in her age group and had on the coolest arm warmers!

Joe Howell 3:53.  Joe took 8th in his age group.

Debbie Kovanda 3:55.  Debbie was 74th in age graded performance.

Stuart Sato 4:04.  Stuart was 57th in his age group.

Ken Hughes 4:23.  Ken was the 911th person to cross the line, but probably the ONLY one who ran RED ROCKS last week.  Sore much Ken?

Now this in from Mr. Brizzle himself aka Brian or aka Munson:

“And it seems like if you did not sign up for the race, Rusty made you volunteer so thanks to all of those people who shouted out my name along the way to help me score points in my contest with Fred and helped to make this event possible.  And kudos to all of the relay team members… I saw Tony and Jim and Gary and Fran and Rob.  If I missed people, my apologies but someone please reply with their names.  And Wendy we know you were running strong for a long ways…hope you feel better quickly,” says Brizzle.

Cheers!

Slim Getting It Done!

We can get up, we chose not to.

Does my baby PR need money for college?