Tag Archives: Flywheel

Remaining Optimistic and Yet Realistic

12 Jul

On Sunday, I ran one of my favorite races, the Boilermaker.

I ran it last year for the first time, and had a blast.  T’s best friend, Steve, is from Utica, so we stayed with his parents and were spoiled rotten for a weekend.  (Holla to Mrs. G’s brownies!)

Us last year at the post-race party

Well, we did we the exact same thing this year:  Friday after work T, Steve, his wife Danielle, and I hopped in a rental car and drove the 4.5-ish hours to Utica.  Upon arrival at the G’s home, we proceeded to pig out on the aforementioned brownies and “tomato pie“, (don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried this Utica special.  It’s delicious!) and guzzle a bunch of Saranac.

Saturday involved T, Steve, and Steve’s brothers playing golf while Danielle and I sipped wine on the patio at the club overlooking the green.  (That may be the most obnoxious and WASPy thing I’ve ever typed.)  Then we headed back to the G’s, where Mrs. G had prepared a feast of pasta that we housed before turning in relatively early.

I may be a fool, but I didn’t have nearly as much trepidation for this race as I should have.  In the 5 weeks that preceded it, I ran one 4.5 miler.  This was in prep for a freaking 15K that is hilly as f**k.  Not very smart.  The one smart thing I *did* do was pay a visit to my PT, Aaron, on Thursday.  I had him massage and stretch me out in advance of the race.  My feelings when I woke up Sunday morning didn’t get much deeper than, “Yippee, I get to run today!!!  I’m really out of shape.  This should be funny!”

Honestly, my one wish was that my foot wouldn’t hurt.  I knew that I was going to feel tired and out of shape, but I could deal with that.  What would be a crushing blow would be having the PF come back flaring like the little b*tch that it is.

As Danielle and I hung out in our corral waiting for the gun, I thought about how much I’ve changed as a runner.  For years, I would be waiting in corrals thinking, “La la la, I’m going for a run!  NBD!”  It wasn’t until my 7th marathon, the 2010 Flying Pig, that I ran my slowest marathon and I asked myself why I wasn’t trying to get any better.  Since then, I’ve become more and more aware of my pace, and intent upon improving.  My running has become a bit more purposeful, as I’ve incorporated things like speed work and tempo runs.  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to the hobby jogger I was before.  I should clarify, in no way am I kidding myself.  I am certainly still a hobby jogger.  I fully realize I am a very mediocre runner.  There is no delusion going on here.  What I mean is that I don’t see myself ever again being the lackadaisical racer that I was.  There are good and bad sides to that, I guess.

That finish time was 4:41:55. Yeesh. I made, like, 3 bathroom stops, too.  Love how I still look all victorious and sh*t.

Sooo…back to the Boilermaker:  the gun went off and off we went.  I pressed START on my Garmin and the f*cker did not respond.  Looks like I’ll be buying another one of those bad boys.  I’m actually glad it wasn’t working, however, (not glad I have to buy a new one) because it kept me from obsessing over my splits, which I know I would have done.  I just ran.  What a novel concept.

I lost Danielle around mile 3 and watched her fade into the distance, up the first hill, at the golf course.  I was all by my lonesome now– just me and 14,000 sweaty companions.

I struggled up the hill a bit and was bummed when I completely lost sight of Danielle.  I kind of gunned it down the other side, all the while internally chastising myself, “Slow the f**k down, you dumba**.  You’re going to regret this.”  Then, the course flattened out a bit and I just continued to put one foot in front of the other.

Oh, hai. Apparently I ran most of this race with my eyes closed. This is pretty much the only picture in which I have them open.

The whole time I was running, I was delighted to be doing so.  I checked the clock each time I hit a mile marker and as the miles ticked by, I dared to hope I could come in under 1:20:00.  I couldn’t remember what my time was last year, but I knew it was just under that.  The clocks seemed to indicate that this was a possibility, which was just insane to me.  But I didn’t question it.

The second and worst hill came along and I attacked it feeling tired and energized all at once.  When I got to the top, I made the turn and looked around intently for Amanda, who is the girlfriend of one of Steve’s brothers.  I thought I remembered her saying she would be there.  There was a huge crowd there (and really, all along the entire course– love this race!) but I didn’t see her.  I kept looking and looking and slowly realized that I was actually still climbing a hill.  I had forgotten that this was the hill that goes on and on and on.  So Amanda provided a welcome distraction for a while, even though I didn’t see her!

On the downhill, I once again gunned it and cursed internally at myself.  As the course flattened out and I came upon mile 8, I knew I would see the G’s soon.  Sure, enough, I heard Mr. G’s enthusiastic hollers before I even saw them!  I gave them a tired smile and wave and knew I was in the home stretch.  I tried to kick (ha!) and made my way down the gentle slope to the finish, feeling very glad that the end of the course goes that way.  The hills had pretty much taken everything out of me.

T calls this one “I’m every woman!”

Look at that smug smirk. It says something like, “F you, plantar fasciitis!”

I ambled along through the finish area, sweaty and happy and feeling pretty awesome, all-in-all.  The gang had made a plan for a meeting place that turned out to be a not-so-distinct spot, so I kind of wandered around ’til I miraculously found Danielle.  Thanks to a few people running with phones, (including me) Danielle, Steve, T, Steve’s bros, and I were eventually able to convene and drink many, many, MANY Saranac brews, which were going down oh-so-smooth.  YUM.  As my buzz kicked in, I thought I couldn’t possibly be happier than I was in that moment.  I had run a  race I was pleased with, after months of no running, and everything including my FOOT felt good.

I had to cut T out of this one of me and Danielle because he was photo bombing, per usual.

Smushy face. T, by the way, KILLED his time from last year! I am so proud!!!!!

My time, it turns out, was 1:18:53, (8:28 min/miles) so I *did* come in under 1:20!  Not only that, but holy crap– I beat my time from last year.  By, like, 9 seconds, but STILL!  For me, this is a very pleasant surprise.  I guess all the Flywheelin’ has kept me in decent cardio shape.  Either that, or I was so jazzed to be running again, or my watch was dead and I wasn’t obsessing over my splits, or I knew the course this year, or it wasn’t quite so blistering hot this year.  Whatever the reason, I was completely giddy (ok, and also drunk) all day on Sunday.  Monday I was also on Cloud 9 and my foot felt good, though my quads were aching– which is only natural, considering those hills and the fact that I am out of running shape.

Tuesday, yesterday, and today my foot feels a bit stiff.  I nixed the plan to hit up my running class on Tuesday (session #8 of 10, for which I have paid and haven’t attended once– GRRR) and instead went to Flywheel Tues and Wednesday.  Although now that I was able to run a long-ish race with no pain and all I want to do is run run run run run and start training for fall marathons… I am DETERMINED to be smart about it.

I am staying optimistic, and yet realistic.  Just like my headline suggests.

And that’s all I have to say for now. 🙂

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Spotted: Crazy, Fugly Runnergirl On A Murderous Rampage in Central Park

3 May

… or just me plodding through the park with a combination of happiness to be running and frustration that a 4 miler could feel so damn difficult.

Anyhow.

I ran a 4 mile race in Central Park 2 Sundays ago.  I finished in just under 32 minutes, which was, meh, whatever.  Seeing as how I hadn’t run in over 3 months, my expectations were pretty damn low.  I was kind of pleasantly surprised at first, but then found myself pretty depressed because in all honesty, I should be able to run a 4 miler at better than an 8 min/mile pace, for Pete’s sake.  My PR marathon pace is really not THAT much slower than that.  Ugh.

I should also mention that hours after the 4 miler (during which, by the way, I didn’t really experience any foot pain) I found myself in IMMENSE pain, to the point where I could hardly walk.  That brought that particular weekend to a lovely conclusion, as I bawled about the fact after months of forgoing running, attempting to embrace spinning, buying all kinds of foam rollers and trigger point doohickeys and various shoe inserts, Physical Therapy, different doctor visits, scary injections, and other crapola, one 4 mile run put me right back where I was before I did all of that.  I just felt such a crushing emotional blow, like everything I had done — all the angst and stress and money– was a complete waste.  I spent the remainder of that Sunday holed up on my sectional couch eating food I’d ordered off of Seamless web and  and watching “Veep” and “Girls” on HBO.  (I did, however, manage to wait to watch Mad Men, since T was working and that’s our show.  And can I just say that MM has been effing awesome this season?!?!?)

Anyhow.  Since I’m a glutton for punishment, I did yet another 4 miler this past Sunday.  My time was better, (not that it really matters) and my foot hurt a lot less in the aftermath.  No idea why.  I also thought I’d share the photo described in the title of this post, because it’s too amazing not to.  Friends’ reactions have included the following.

Kim: OMG I can’t lie.  It’s bad.  HAHAHAHAHA.

Molly:  You are so beautiful.  But, uh, not in that pic.

Well, see for yourself, friends.

YEEEARRRGGGGH I WILL EAT YOUR CHILDREN!!

In other news, though I am far from embracing spinning, it turns out I’m decent at it.  All I had to do was decide to put my name up on the “torque board” and suddenly I started spinning my little heart out.  I start getting crazy competitive and trying to “win” as often as I can.  So I found myself on the Flywheel website a few days ago, idly clicking here and there, and I discovered that they list the top 10 men and women for each week at each studio and that I had landed in the top 10 women at the UES studio not once, but twice!  WHAT?

Take a wild guess which one is me

If you’re ever in a Flywheel class and you see “SweatyKT” on the torque board, come find me and say hi!  You’ll know it’s  me, ’cause I’ll be the sweatiest person in the class, men included.

And now for a quick foot update.  I saw the doc who did the injection this past Monday.  He looked at a sonogram of my foot and showed me where objectively it was looking better.  He is puzzled, however, as to why it is still hurting.  He also said that it’s a good sign that I’m even able to run 4 miles, but I’m finding it difficult to look at it that way since I’d like to be running a hell of a lot more than that, and without crazy-intense pain in the aftermath.  Anyhow… he had me go get an MRI to see if maybe there was some kind of issue on top of my PF that is causing this trouble.  He acknowledged that I’ve done pretty much everything I should be doing for my foot.  I got the MRI done yesterday and now I am waiting for the results…

Yesterday I had my final insurance-covered PT session and from here on out, if I want to go, it’s $100 a pop.  My PT also said that he is completely bamboozled as to why my foot is still hurting, given that I’ve done pretty much everything.  I guess it’s some consolation to have everyone in agreement that I’m doing everything I can(?)

I’ve started seriously considering accepting that my running days are over and attempting to find a new …. No!  F*ck it!  I’m not giving up!!!!  (That’s as far as I usually get with that thought.)

If anyone has any stories of glorious recovery from injuries to share, that would be swell.  Sweaty Emily‘s recovery from her broken foot is nothing short of legendary, but as my PT informed me– muscle and bone injuries are a lot easier to recover from than tendon injuries.  Sweet.  However, I want to reiterate that coming back from an injury by running a 3:08 marathon is just… wow.  I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t wish I’d broken my foot instead of getting freaking plantar fasciitis.

But life goes on, I’ll be running again… some day soon(????PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE) and at least I have horrifically, fantastically terrible photos of myself to keep me smiling…

I’m Still Here

18 Apr

Oh, hey!  I’m still here and still salty to not be running.  Here’s what’s going on (in no particular order):

-I’m still hitting up Flywheel as routinely as possible, though no longer the 6 AM class.  After I got really sick I realized I wasn’t taking very good care of myself and thus have tried to make fewer weekday evening plans and make time for Flywheel in the evenings and on weekends rather than at the buttcrack of dawn during the week.

-My foot felt better.  I got excited!  Then it hurt again.  I then became extremely enraged inconsolably bereft really sad and disappointed and frustrated.  Then it felt better again.  Repeat excitement.  Then it hurt again… and the roller coaster continues…

-I am extremely hesitant to say more about the foot because I’ve gotten so nuts that I half-believe if I say it’s better it will respond by hurting again.  (This injury has messed with me mentally, I swear.)  HOWEVER.  I am planning to run for the first time since January 12th this coming Sunday.  I’m signed up for a 4-miler in the park on Sunday and I am going to do it ’cause (1) I’m sick and tired of not running AND not running races I’ve paid for and (2) it’s only 4 effing miles.  Fingers crossed BIG TIME.

-Boston happened and I teared up a few times already reading recaps!  I love marathons.  Check out my buddy Kristy‘s recap and congratulate her! 🙂  Oh yeah and Boston was so horribly hot this year that they offered the option of deferment until next year, which was really nice of them for sure, but also kind of sucks for me since it means fewer spots for next year and thus, a smaller chance that I will get in.  Yeah, also, I realize I have to actually run a qualifying time to get in, but details! 😉

-And on that note, T and I signed up for my hometown marathon.  It’s in a little under 5 months.  Talk about wishful thinking!  It will be his first, and my 12th.  Here’s hoping I can start training for it soon…

-I FINALLY gave in and joined Twitter.  I still don’t really get it, but why don’cha go ahead and follow me or tweet me or whatever?  I’m @katiesweatylife. (one “s”)

And now, some pictures!

Kinesio tape looks so weird, but for some reason I like how it feels on the sole of my foot.

I was not expecting my PT to do this. Had I expected it, I probably would have worn knee-high boots or pants to work that day. I got a lot of strange looks on the street...

Saturday afternoon at the Queens Kickshaw. Don't mind if I do!

Both the Porter and the coffee were AMAZING. Like, seriously amazing. Get thee to the Queens Kickshaw. It's not that far for you Manhattanites, I swear! Also, T and I split the most delicious grilled cheese sandwich there. No pic, 'cause we ate it so fast! 😉

Also, Sunday morning, I discovered this text in my sent items:

“I want to run forever and be fast as the wind.”

Apparently, wine + beer = very emo and poetic(?) Katie.  The sentiment is definitely true, I’m just not sure I would state it that way unless very overserved.  You’re welcome for that little tidbit, Cookie.  You’re welcome.

I’m Falling Apart

4 Apr

So, since last I wrote, I’ve come down with a really awesome sinus infection!  I’ve never had a sinus infection before, and I am here to tell you that it is a special and unique kind of torture!  Cool beans!

Ugh, it all began last Wednesday when I went to see the Hunger Games movie (sooo awesome; have a serious ladycrush on Jennifer Lawrence, it’s not right.)  My “allergies” seemed to escalate into something a little more, which included a sweet cornucopia of achy bod, terrible headache, sniffles, coughs, chills, and fever.  I slept like sh*t, but convinced myself I felt better and went to work in the morning… where I wound up being yelled at by work buddies to go the f*ck home leaving a few hours later and holed up on the couch for the rest of the day, reading the second Hunger Games book.  (By the way, I did in fact include the word “cornucopia” in tribute — yes, TRIBUTE– to the HG.)

Again, I slept like sh*t and didn’t even bother the charade of attending work the next day.  I did, however, drag my achy a$$ to physical therapy because fixing this “little” foot issue is, oh, sort of important to me….

The receptionist looked confused when I showed up (on time for my 1PM appointment) and said, “Oh, Katie, I didn’t think you were in the book ’til later on today.”  (Yes, they know me by name at the front desk of my PT by now and yes, this is f*cking sad.)  I checked my calendar and indeed, my appointment was at 2:30 and I had written that down, but for some reason in my confused and delirious state, decided my appointment was at 1.  Flustered, I told her I was running a fever, hadn’t even gone to work, and had to cancel even though I understood they would have to charge me.  (Damn.  It.)

Then, I went back home and holed back up on the couch.  A few hours later, I decided I felt better, so I packed up some stuff for the weekend and joined T to Manhattan to pick up our rental car and meet up with our friends Steve and Danielle for our trip to DC….

We had a blast in DC and I’m not sorry I went!  I mean, was sleeping on an aerobed in our friends’ living room the best thing for my cold?  Probably not.  Was sitting at a rooftop bar drinking Moo Thunder and playing Scattergories for hours just what the doctor ordered?  Hmmm, no… but it was *was* super fun.

One of the most delicious things one can find in a can

Sunday I spectated the crap out of the Cherry Blossom 10-miler.  I’m getting pretty good at this spectating sh*t…

Post-race in the Metro station with T, who did an awesome job, especially considering his training was nil. We won't talk about what a slap in the face it is that he CHOOSES NOT TO RUN, WHEN HE CAN! Argh. 😉

Monday after work, I went to a Flywheel class, which is where I realized and admitted that I was in a pretty sorry state.  I was spent before the first song was over, and basically phoned it in for the rest of the class.  My “score” was by far, the lowest I’ve ever gotten.  Flywheel gives you a “score” that gets higher and higher throughout the class the harder you work.  Typically, for a 45 minute class, I’m around a 230-250.  Monday, I didn’t even break 200.

When I got home that night, I found myself in an immense amount of pain in my jaw area, which was weird.  I attempted to knock myself out with NyQuil, but still did not sleep well.

I went to work yesterday, ’cause why not, then I went to the doctor, who confirmed that I had a sinus infection that had settled in nicely to my jaw area.  He also gave me sh*t for going to Flywheel while my body was fighting an infection.  (I thought maybe there was something to that whole “flushing out toxins”…. no?)  Anyhow, it feels like when I used to get my braces tightened, only about a million times more painful and awful.  Good stuff!  The jaw pain has only intensified to the point where I want to bash my head against my desk repeatedly.

… the good news is that I’m in too much pain to be uber depressed that my foot feels exactly the same as it did before the PRP injection…

WOMP WOMP DEBBIE DOWNER.  I’m seriously f*cking falling apart.

Tell me something good.  Are you a Hunger Games fan?  I got into it way late in the “game” (haha?) and am just now starting book 3, but I love the series.  I am usually pretty wary of things that have such a huge following like HG, but I have to admit there is a reason people love these books– ‘CAUSE THEY’RE AWESOME.

I Did It, And I Lived To Tell The Tale

27 Mar

Friday morning, I slept in ’til 8:30 AM and then went to Flywheel for a class with Aleah.  It was my first class with her, and she definitely is my new favorite instructor!  (Though I also love Ryan.)

Then, I got coffee, relaxed around my apartment, got lunch with T at Bareburger … and then we headed to my doctor’s office for the dreaded PRP injection.

Dun Dun DUNNNNHHHH!

trying not to look too freaked out as I wait for the procedure to begin...

The doctor and PA drew blood.  It felt like a lot of blood.  It felt like a very long time that they were drawing the blood.  I did not like this.  I looked away and babbled at T and dug my fingernails into his hand.  I also secreted about a gallon of sweat.  I do indeed live a sweaty life, and it’s not always due to exercise.

This is post phlebotomy. I am laughing at the ridiculous amount of sweat that has poured out of my body, and the ridiculous amount of anxiety I am still experiencing. A few of my friends have commented I look like I am on the can in this picture, but I assure you that this was not nearly as relaxing as that experience usually is...

I felt a little woozy and nauseated after the blood was drawn.  Notice the slightly ashen cast of my face here.

Still smiling, though!

Anyhow… then they spun the blood in the centrifuge and isolated the platelet-rich blood.  I did not see any of this, but I did see it in the syringe when I was ushered into the room where the injection would take place.  I laid supine, gripped T’s hand… and felt the needle inject the painkiller into my foot.  Then, the next needle (containing the PRP) went in.  I felt some pressure and 3 times felt a very sharp pain that felt like it was deep inside my foot and caused me to let out a startled sort of yelp.  I assume I jolted a bit, too, since I was instructed firmly (but nicely!) to keep my foot still.  The entire time, I was gripping T’s hand and telling him some stupid story (I don’t even remember what it was about) and the doctor was telling me I was doing great.  It seemed to last forever and finally, when I felt a bit of a lull in the pain/pressure, I said hesitantly, “Are we almost done?” to which T and the doctor said, “You’re done!”  All-in-all, it was probably only a few minutes.

The doctor put a little band-aid on the point where the needle went in and then I basically hopped off of the table and walked out.  I was favoring my left foot a little, just because the right one was slightly tender, but all-in-all, I was fine!  (Note:  my f*cking left foot is now hurting a bit from favoring it.)

Then came the next painful part of the procedure, which was paying for it.  I am $630 poorer now, but it honestly feels like just another expense on top of all the PT, orthotics, entry fees for races I have not run, etc.  Also, at this juncture, I would honestly drop much more than that just to be able to run again.  Now, if only I could be assured that this will get me running again… Sigh…

Anyhow, the woman at the front desk reconfirmed that I had gotten PRP done and commented that she hadn’t heard anything.  When I asked her what she meant, she said she often hears patients yelling, which made me feel a lot better about my reaction.  However, I doubt most patients in their 30s require a chaperone, but whatever.

I took one of the painkillers the doc gave me right away, but I haven’t experienced any  pain since then that warranted taking any more, which is awesome.

So, the injection itself was pretty painful, but that is also likely because I am a big baby.  The aftermath was fine, but since I still felt a little shaky, I indulged in this.

The most indulgent thing I have ever gotten at 16 Handles: a huge helping of cake batter, dulce de leche, and coffee froyo, topped with brownie bites, cookie dough, and hot fudge. Don't mind if I do!

Happy camper: Shots aren't so bad! Also, I am 5 years old and require ice cream after mildly unpleasant visits to the doctor's office.

Soon after the 16 Handles trip, I hopped in a cab with Cookie and we headed off to Laguardia for our flight to Charlotte.

I had a wonderful weekend in Charlotte with my girlfriends.  Highlights included getting our nails done,

obnoxiously pink and I love it

playing with Jen’s beautiful baby, eating AWESOME AWESOME SUSHI at The Cowfish, and a little shopping.

I experienced practically zero pain in my right foot over the weekend and I had fantasies that the PRP had cured me completely and I’d be back to running immediately… but my foot went back to being the little b*tch I’ve become so not fond of this morning at Flywheel.  I know that the results are supposed to appear gradually over a period of weeks and even months… but I am getting extremely impatient.  EXTREMELY.

On another note, a friend of mine who is injured and supposed to run Boston (crossing my fingers BIG TIME for you, Lara!) sent me this the other day.  Sooooo very appropriate.  I think any runner who has been injured before understands this sentiment 100%.

So, all-in-all, my foot is not any WORSE, so that is good.  Looking on the bright side here.  Time to get this healing biz-nass on the road already!

The Weekend Round-up and an Impending Doc Visit!

28 Feb

So, my weekend was busy as hell with, you guessed it, NO RUNNING and a lot of eating and drinking.  Let’s just say fitting into my favorite jeans is a thing of the past!

But whatever.  The weekend kicked off with a visit to the man I’m seeing on the side (sorry, T!):  my physical therapist.  He did the usual– humiliated me by having me do all kinds of balancing things that further prove my ankles are weak as hell, and then massaged my disgusting foot.  (Note to self:  get a pedicure before I leave for California, where I hope to sport some open-toed shoes.)

THEN I met up with T and some of our friends at a delicious restaurant– Back 40!  We drank delicious beer (Kelso IPA was my beverage of choice) and ate some freaking awesome food.  The 6 of us got a charcuterie plate with lots of delightful meats and cheeses on it.  As the plate came to a sad end, I reached across the table to cut up the last remaining morsel of food– a hunk of cheese.

… yeah, after I sawed away at it a few times, I looked up and saw Steve watching me attempt to cut what was actually a napkin folded into a triangle.  The realization set in just as Steve said, “Um, Katie, I think that’s a napkin.”

OK, so it actually doesn't look like cheese at all. In my defense, it was dimly lit, it was across the table... and I was several beers in. And I was hungry and I REALLY love cheese...

Anyhow, that was a riveting narrative, was it not?  Once we all stopped laughing and my face un-flushed a bit, I wound up ordering a salad and T ordered a burger and fries– both of which were DELICIOUS!  Then, I twisted T’s arm and we ordered a stout float for us to share.  This is something I’ve always wanted to try.  Two of my favorite things– ice cream and beer.  It was AWESOME.  I see many stout floats in my future.  (And the need to give up on jeans and just wear sweat pants from here on out.)

This is just after we gulped down the beer and shortly before we (I) gobbled the ice cream... YUM

So, Back 40 gets 2 thumbs up from me!  After dinner, we headed to Lunasa to meet up with some more friends.  Lunasa will always hold a special place in my heart, because that is where we had our joint birthday party a few years ago.

AWWWWWW

Anyway, that was Friday night.  Saturday, I went to Flywheel for the 12:45 one-hour class.  As you know, I am pretty “meh” about spinning– mainly because I view it as inferior to running and I am bitter and angry sad that I can’t run.  However, Flywheel at 12:45 on a Saturday is a much different scene from Flywheel at 6 AM during the week.  The class was full, everyone was super enthusiastic… and I LOVED the instructor, Ryan.  He informed everyone at the beginning of class that he had lost a stunning 60 pounds since he began taking classes and then teaching a year ago.  And you could just tell he loved teaching.  He was so fun and encouraging and he played an awesome mix of cheesy pop music– my favorite.  Rihanna?  Yes, please, and more of her!  I felt really happy and energized and was drenched in sweat when I left.  Mmmmm… Then T met up with me and we went to Murray’s Cheese in Grand Central to finally use the gift card my father got me for Christmas last year.  It was an AMAZING gift, but for some reason I never got around to cashing it in until Saturday.

I will take... all of you

That night, our friends Ben, Robbie, and Sara came over.  We intended to bust out the cheese for them, but instead, we all rushed out the door to Il Bambino, which I consider to be the jewel in the crown that is our neighborhood.  They have the most amazing paninis, delicious beer, and a beautiful garden out back, too boot.  We obviously did not sit in the garden on Saturday night, but we did enjoy the paninis and beer!  I forced myself to diverge from my regular order (gorgonzola dolce, prosciutto, and fig panini) and try something new.  I was not sorry– the panini with fried eggplant, roasted mushrooms, goat cheese, and spicy mayo was DELICIOUS… as was the Six Point Sweet Action I washed it down with.  Again, I’m a health nut.

After dinner, we ventured out for a few more beers and then went back to our place to watch the best awful movie of all time — The Room.  This movie deserves a post all of its own.  That’s all I’ll say.

Sunday featured brunch with friends and then a trip to Manhattan where T played a soccer game with Zog Sports.  Then, we went out for a few Goose Island IPAs (always a delicious standby) and back home where I promptly conked out on the couch.  (But only after I ate a healthy dose of the Murray’s cheese.  THANKS, DAD.)

All-in-all, an extremely unhealthy, busy, and fun weekend.

And today, I have an appointment with my doctor, who I hope will have some bright ideas for how to get this little b*tch of an injury to be history so that I can be running again.  A while ago, I said something about how I hoped to be able to participate in the spring session of the NYRR class I’ve been missing so much.  But that class starts up… in 2 weeks.  And I have to admit, with a great big frustrated sigh, that it doesn’t seem so realistic.  Now my goal is to be able to participate in the Cherry Blossom 10-Miler that I signed up for a long time ago.

And on Thursday… we leave for a little jaunt to California!  Sunshine, beaches, and In-N-Out Burger, here we come!

What’s up with you?  Have you ever seen The Room?  Ever had In-N-Out Burger?  (People tell me how amazing it is!  I’ve never had it, so I’m excited to try it!)  Do you find yourself disgusted by the sheer amount of cheese and beer I consumed over the weekend?  Do you think I’ll be able to run the damn 10-miler?  If my foot is still f**ked up, would it be wrong to show up anyway and trip everyone out of spite?  Lemme know! 😉

A Wise Man Once Said…

23 Feb

So, I’ve really sucked big time at blogging lately.  (No, that’s not what the wise man said.  I’ll get to that.)

I mean, I blogged about farts last time.  Granted, it was relevant because I was in spin class, which contributes to my Sweaty Life– the overarching subject of this blog.  But it was still basically a blog about how gross spinfarts are.  Yeesh.  (But thanks for the new vocab word, Kimra!)

My foot is still not good.  I’m still going to physical therapy twice a week.  Still wearing the boot to bed, doing PT exercises at home, wearing supportive shoe inserts, not running, BLAH BLAH BLAHHHHHH.   It’s now been 6 weeks since I ran at all (running for the train notwithstanding.)  It’s been 72 days since I got my PF diagnosis and I cut back severely on my mileage.  Not that I’m counting…

Yeah. I've put this pic up a few times before. I am here to tell you that sleeping in this thing is not fun. I tend to wake up about 3 hours later and take it off because I can't take it any longer.

I’m frustrated that, as I’ve mentioned a few times, the one decent substitute I can find for running is spinning, which costs a damn fortune.  I’m frustrated that I am doing something I enjoy LESS than my favorite, beloved exercise and yet spending much, much more money on it and getting much, much less sleep.  I have been getting up 3-4 days a week at 5 AM in order to catch the 5:30 train to Manhattan and jet on up to 67th and Third Ave for the 6 AM Flywheel class.   Waking up routinely at 5 AM is not what I consider “fun.”  Especially when I know waking up at 5 AM and RUNNING would get a decent amount of mileage in.  But getting to spin requires travel time.  Also, I’ve been getting ready at work in the mornings, which isn’t my favorite.  I recognize that I am definitely lucky that I have showers here, but I’d still much prefer to get ready at home.

Basically, not running (still) sucks.

BUT.  As a wise man once said, “Life ain’t a track meet — it’s a marathon!”

Yeah. The wise man is Ice Cube. And "You Can Do It" is one of my favorite rap songs of all time. Up there with "Juicy."

Whenever I’ve had tough times in the past, I’ve tried to remind myself that life is long (at least, I hope it is!) and that “this thing” (whatever the thing was at the time) is only temporary and will be a blip on the radar some day.  Like, “Oh, haha, remember when that happened?  That sucked!”

For all the other tough times, it’s been mostly true.  And I keep telling myself that the same will hold true for this.  One day (soon?!?!?!?  I hope!!!!!?????) when I’m back to running, I’ll be like, “Oh man, plantar fasciitis is a b*tch!  I dealt with that once!”

Now, I just need to stop reading the injury forum on Runners World, where there is a lot of doom-and-gloom anecdotal info on PF and focus instead on my physical therapist, who says that the only people who don’t recover well are the ones who refuse to stop running.  Everyone is WELL AWARE I am not running, so… as another wise man once said, “the waiting is the hardest part.”

Even though you are pretty fug, I love you a lot, Tom Petty