Last year, I was swimming. A lot. In fact, I did so much swimming—about 1.5-2 miles 4x a week—that I killed my shoulder. It got to where I could barely move it, so I backed off on it (the timing was good because it was getting cold out, and the pool is outdoors) and decided to ramp up the walking, specifically trying to trim time off my pace, shooting for under 16 minutes per mile.
Here’s the thing when you’re kinda fat and in phfft shape…you really do need to approach things at a slower pace until you’re not as fat and in slightly better than =meh= shape.
I did not do that, and wound up with significant hip and lower back pain.
Now, did I go to the doctor about any of this?
Hell, no. With my shoulder, there was that little voice that said my doc would send me to another doc, who would declare my rotator cuff shredded and it must be reamed out. Clearly I know better than the medical professionals, so I decided to rest it.
My hip and back…well, I have arthritis in both, and a narrow lower spine, and have been told before to just back off and rest it. So that’s what I did. I rested and gained back 5 unhappy pounds.
In the bigger picture, I just wanted to be able to get back to walk-jogging soon enough to get my time fast enough to survive the Pixie Dust Challenge. And I was getting there, I really was.
But then the Spouse Thingy had something come up, something that’s not really mine to tell (but it’s not horrible, so don’t worry) but that, if it comes to pass, will mean I should stay home and we would both miss the races we registered for. I was seriously looking forward to this (because it’s at Disneyland) but honestly, I am not disappointed.
And I’m not disappointed because for once MISSING SOMETHING IS NOT MY FAULT!
Insert Snoopy Dance.
Since I don’t have to focus on cutting my walk pace, I can get back into the pool. I swam for the first time since October the other day, making sure I didn’t push too hard, and it felt great. It was half an hour of oh yesssss, and I wanted to keep going but forced myself out of the pool. I’m going back tomorrow and will swim for 40 minutes, and see how that feels (though this time, if at 40 minutes I still feel great, I’m staying in the water and will just work on kicks.)
I’ve also managed to drag myself out of bed most mornings between 7-7:30, which gives me the cooler part of the day to get out and walk…with my eye on the Yosemite Half in October, and the 60 miles of the 3 Day in November.
Max’s book is also coming along…so this will be a busy spring and summer, and as long as it doesn’t get too horribly hot, don’t count on me for much of anything else.
I got some sweating to do.
And some writing.
Sometimes, both at the same time.
Thursday
Tuesday
8 March 2016
With one charity event down, we’re looking far forward to November, when both the Spouse Thingy and I are walking the San Diego 3 Day. He’s crewed before, but this will be his first time walking…so no horror stories, y’all. We don’t want him crying before Mile 12 on Day 1 ;)
The fundraising won’t begin in earnest for a while—and there are fun prizes planned!—but I’ve already got the ball rolling on one thing, The Pink Belt Project. The idea behind it: you commit to walk 500 miles in 365 days, and you earn a pink belt—it’s the breast cancer fight equivalent of a black belt—because by joining the fight and walking the miles, you become a pink warrior. It’s only $20 to play, and it’s on the honor system. Keep track of your miles, from day one to day 365, and you’ve earned your belt.
If you don’t want to walk, you can gift a belt to someone else, or buy one of the really cool t-shirts we’re selling. Those are $25, and there are 7 colors to choose from.
All of the profits—100%—are being donated to a breast cancer charity. After we’ve raised our minimums, anything else will be given to other walkers who are still short.
The shirts are really spiffy, guys.
And hey, if you don’t want to earn a belt or buy a shirt, you can still donate directly to my 3 Day fund or the Spouse Thingy’s…and like always, every $5 will count toward the prize pool. The first prizes will probably be announced at the end of March (and one has already been donated and shipped to me, and for anyone looking to get in shape, it’s really cool!)(and worth $500!)
So go check it out… The Pink Belt Project (or jump right to the order page here.)
We also have a Facebook page that’s just barely gotten started—no purchase necessary, you can join and just hang out!.
The fundraising won’t begin in earnest for a while—and there are fun prizes planned!—but I’ve already got the ball rolling on one thing, The Pink Belt Project. The idea behind it: you commit to walk 500 miles in 365 days, and you earn a pink belt—it’s the breast cancer fight equivalent of a black belt—because by joining the fight and walking the miles, you become a pink warrior. It’s only $20 to play, and it’s on the honor system. Keep track of your miles, from day one to day 365, and you’ve earned your belt.
All of the profits—100%—are being donated to a breast cancer charity. After we’ve raised our minimums, anything else will be given to other walkers who are still short.
The shirts are really spiffy, guys.
And hey, if you don’t want to earn a belt or buy a shirt, you can still donate directly to my 3 Day fund or the Spouse Thingy’s…and like always, every $5 will count toward the prize pool. The first prizes will probably be announced at the end of March (and one has already been donated and shipped to me, and for anyone looking to get in shape, it’s really cool!)(and worth $500!)
So go check it out… The Pink Belt Project (or jump right to the order page here.)
We also have a Facebook page that’s just barely gotten started—no purchase necessary, you can join and just hang out!.
1 March 2016
RANDOM IRRITATED MUSINGS BECAUSE MY BACK HURTS
AND I HAVE A HEADACHE AND I WANT TO SHARE THE PAIN
Should of. Would of. Could of. NO. Stop it. It makes my eyes bleed. Should’ve or should have. Would’ve or would have. Could’ve or could have. YES. Farking contractions, people. It’s not that difficult.
Bitching at me over and over and over will not get you fed any sooner, cat, and I’m starting to get mentally twitchy at the sound of your voice tonight. YOU WILL NOT STARVE TO DEATH IN THE NEXT 40 MINUTES.
Any article (or talking heads on TV) saying “the male penis.” As opposed to what? WHO ELSE HAS ONE?
This election cycle. It’s disheartening to realize how many people I know are racist and xenophobic, and they have no clue.
No, it’s more than disheartening. It’s making me sad.
Seriously, cat, I will not let you starve.
Pizza rolls. They should be low cal. So that I can eat 20 at a time. Yes, I know I’m complaining about the cat wanting to eat while contemplating junk food.
I want to reach through the TV and punch Donald Trump. I want to punch his supporters even more. I realize this is a horrible thought. The difference between them and me is, I think, the fact I am willing to admit it’s a horrible thought upon which I would never act nor expect anyone else to condone.
Matthew Gray Gubler’s hair. Dude, you’re a fine actor and I like you on Criminal Minds, but freaking wash and comb your hair more than twice a year.
OMG cat.
Fine.
I’ll feed you.
Holy hell.
I totally get to have ice cream once you're fed...
Monday
22 February 2016
Okay. So.
If you donated to my St. Baldrick's event...there's a 90% chance I am not shaving my head this year. Nothing came up, it's not that I don't want to--I do--but I had an offer I don't think I can refuse.
Basically, if after 4 pm on the 27th I can prove I still have my hair, one of my weird little friends says they will donate $3500 to St. Baldrick's.
The dilemma I am faced with is getting a donation bigger than what I can actually raise versus pissing off the people who donated thinking I would end up bald and living with it until my hair grows back.
The only thing I think I can fairly do is offer a refund to those who donated to see me shave. So if you donated and I can dig your info from the St. Baldrick's website, expect an email from me. You'll still get to keep the receipt for your tax deduction for donating to this charity, but will get your money back.
'Tis only fair.
If you donated to my St. Baldrick's event...there's a 90% chance I am not shaving my head this year. Nothing came up, it's not that I don't want to--I do--but I had an offer I don't think I can refuse.
Basically, if after 4 pm on the 27th I can prove I still have my hair, one of my weird little friends says they will donate $3500 to St. Baldrick's.
The dilemma I am faced with is getting a donation bigger than what I can actually raise versus pissing off the people who donated thinking I would end up bald and living with it until my hair grows back.
The only thing I think I can fairly do is offer a refund to those who donated to see me shave. So if you donated and I can dig your info from the St. Baldrick's website, expect an email from me. You'll still get to keep the receipt for your tax deduction for donating to this charity, but will get your money back.
'Tis only fair.
Wednesday
17 February 2016
In 10 days, I'mma gonna be bald again.
That's 10 more days to raise a few bucks for St. Baldrick's.
Ten more days to be the one to make me wind up like this post-shave:
As it stands now, I'll be going au natural, but with the longest hair I've had in years. Granted, it's still short by most standards, but I haven't let it get this long in a good ten years.
Look...I practically have a damned mullet. It's getting CURLY back there. If I let it grow, I could wind up looking like an actual adult female.
But...kids cancer. By shaving it all off, I can raise a few bucks that goes towards research and treatment of and for kids whose lives have hit the pause button because of cancer.
Last year, the first person to donate $150 got to pick green as the color I'd show up with. And I did it so close to the event that when the hair came off, I had a stained scalp. You know what doesn't just come off in the shower?
Neon hair dye, that's what.
Because it was a layer of extra discomfort on top of how hard it actually is to wander around as a 54 year old bald woman, I'm upping that a bit this time. First person to go to $200 gets to choose whatever neon color makes their heart beat happy beats.
And if anyone goes to $1000 (other than the Murfs and they know why they're excluded)...I will not only show up with my hair dyed, I will show up wearing metallic pink mermaid tights.
So here we go...me, asking for donations to one of the only 2 events I'll bug y'all about this year. Send me off in style, y'all!
That's 10 more days to raise a few bucks for St. Baldrick's.
Ten more days to be the one to make me wind up like this post-shave:
As it stands now, I'll be going au natural, but with the longest hair I've had in years. Granted, it's still short by most standards, but I haven't let it get this long in a good ten years.
Look...I practically have a damned mullet. It's getting CURLY back there. If I let it grow, I could wind up looking like an actual adult female.
But...kids cancer. By shaving it all off, I can raise a few bucks that goes towards research and treatment of and for kids whose lives have hit the pause button because of cancer.
Last year, the first person to donate $150 got to pick green as the color I'd show up with. And I did it so close to the event that when the hair came off, I had a stained scalp. You know what doesn't just come off in the shower?
Neon hair dye, that's what.
Because it was a layer of extra discomfort on top of how hard it actually is to wander around as a 54 year old bald woman, I'm upping that a bit this time. First person to go to $200 gets to choose whatever neon color makes their heart beat happy beats.
And if anyone goes to $1000 (other than the Murfs and they know why they're excluded)...I will not only show up with my hair dyed, I will show up wearing metallic pink mermaid tights.
So here we go...me, asking for donations to one of the only 2 events I'll bug y'all about this year. Send me off in style, y'all!
Saturday
13 February 2016
I rarely eat out on the weekends; it was a bad habit a long time ago, when I would run errands and stop for whatever fast food struck me as being edible, just because I could and eating out alone doesn't bother me. Yet today I found myself at Wendy's, scarfing down a burger, and halfway through I wondered why.
Not like, why was I hungry and eating a burger instead of something better, but why was I having fast food on a weekend at all? For most of last year, I was doing pretty good at losing weight (slowly) until I hit a wall in September...but I've done really good at maintaining that loss. Part of the losing weight was not eating out on the weekends when I'm out running around by myself (the Spouse Thingy and I during the week? Uh, yeah, we eat out too often...I track the calories, but still...) and I have been super frustrated lately for having lost that traction I had.
Now, the burger was good, no denying that. I wasn't going to stop eating it and throw it out. For a fast food burger, it was freaking tasty.
But why now? Why break my own don't-eat-out-alone not-really-a-rule-but-a rule? I'd been at Starbucks, went to the grocery store to pick up something to make for dinner (because I do cook on weekends, even if I suck at it) and without really thinking about it...there I was at Wendy's.
Then I realized I was kind of ticked off. Not at myself, because burgers happen, but had that deep-down, simmering, bitch-I-will-cut-you anger going on.
Then I was annoyed with myself, because in one giant thunderclap of a you're an idiot moment, I realized I was doing the whole cliched eating-my-feelings thing. I didn't even think about it, I just did it. Instead of lashing out at the person who had upset me, I went about my business, and while doing that I wandered straight into Oprah territory.
While I was at Starbucks, I posted a picture of my spiffy Doctor Who backpack that the Boy and his Significantly Better Half gave me for Christmas. I don't carry a purse, but I carry this, because it's awesome and I :heart: :heart: it.
I posted the picture because of this overly-enthusiastic woman sitting next to me who coveted it and was several degrees of OMG IT'S ADORABLE and OMG I HAVE TO HAVE ONE, and this little nagging voice in the back of my head thought she just might be the sort of person to grab and run. So I sat on part of it to make it harder to grab, and then took the picture.
No, she didn't take it. If she had, I would be asking y'all for bail money, not whining on a blog.
After I posted the picture, mostly amused, I went back to what I was writing. While I was lost in a scene in San Francisco, where Wick the cat watched as one of his companions walked right into a lamp post, a woman came in with her adult special-needs son, and I only noticed they'd come in because he was loud, making a singular sound over and over, and not noticing was (honestly) impossible.
Mom headed to the restroom with him, and we could all still hear him.
I went back to my writing. Tapping away at the keyboard, Wick was hiding his face in the Emperor's sweatshirt, because he did not want to see the aftermath of his friend stepping out into the street in front of a car. Just as Wick was about to look up again--because no one was screaming and the Emperor was only muttering things from the Bad Word List--the woman next to me leaned closer to me and said, "God, I hope those people leave. I don't know how I can stand it if they stay."
I didn't even look up, but she went on. "Really, what if they sit right here?"
I admitted, I did not care if they did.
"But you're working on something. He'll distract you."
I refrained from pointing out the obvious. "That's my problem, not his. He has every right to be here."
And that's when she went from just annoying me to me wanting to punch her square in the face. "Those people need to be kept at home so that normal people don't have to be bothered."
I have a temper, I know that.
I have the ability to inflict injury, I know that.
I have far less patience for idiots than I did even five years ago, I know that.
I wanted to punch her, and punch her hard, I know that.
What I did was close my laptop, and while I shoved it into my bag I said, "You know what? Fuck you."
And I left.
Then I went grocery shopping, and found myself at Wendy's, trying to smother that anger with a burger I didn't need, and trying to figure out what I was most angry about. That she was a raging farktard? Or that I lowered myself to her level with my parting words?
I don't know.
But I do know that heading into Wendy's was something I did subconsciously; I wasn't all that hungry, and there was food at home had I been. I wasn't eating a burger, I was eating my anger, and that, frankly, bothers me.
Not like, why was I hungry and eating a burger instead of something better, but why was I having fast food on a weekend at all? For most of last year, I was doing pretty good at losing weight (slowly) until I hit a wall in September...but I've done really good at maintaining that loss. Part of the losing weight was not eating out on the weekends when I'm out running around by myself (the Spouse Thingy and I during the week? Uh, yeah, we eat out too often...I track the calories, but still...) and I have been super frustrated lately for having lost that traction I had.
Now, the burger was good, no denying that. I wasn't going to stop eating it and throw it out. For a fast food burger, it was freaking tasty.
But why now? Why break my own don't-eat-out-alone not-really-a-rule-but-a rule? I'd been at Starbucks, went to the grocery store to pick up something to make for dinner (because I do cook on weekends, even if I suck at it) and without really thinking about it...there I was at Wendy's.
Then I realized I was kind of ticked off. Not at myself, because burgers happen, but had that deep-down, simmering, bitch-I-will-cut-you anger going on.
Then I was annoyed with myself, because in one giant thunderclap of a you're an idiot moment, I realized I was doing the whole cliched eating-my-feelings thing. I didn't even think about it, I just did it. Instead of lashing out at the person who had upset me, I went about my business, and while doing that I wandered straight into Oprah territory.
I posted the picture because of this overly-enthusiastic woman sitting next to me who coveted it and was several degrees of OMG IT'S ADORABLE and OMG I HAVE TO HAVE ONE, and this little nagging voice in the back of my head thought she just might be the sort of person to grab and run. So I sat on part of it to make it harder to grab, and then took the picture.
No, she didn't take it. If she had, I would be asking y'all for bail money, not whining on a blog.
After I posted the picture, mostly amused, I went back to what I was writing. While I was lost in a scene in San Francisco, where Wick the cat watched as one of his companions walked right into a lamp post, a woman came in with her adult special-needs son, and I only noticed they'd come in because he was loud, making a singular sound over and over, and not noticing was (honestly) impossible.
Mom headed to the restroom with him, and we could all still hear him.
I went back to my writing. Tapping away at the keyboard, Wick was hiding his face in the Emperor's sweatshirt, because he did not want to see the aftermath of his friend stepping out into the street in front of a car. Just as Wick was about to look up again--because no one was screaming and the Emperor was only muttering things from the Bad Word List--the woman next to me leaned closer to me and said, "God, I hope those people leave. I don't know how I can stand it if they stay."
I didn't even look up, but she went on. "Really, what if they sit right here?"
I admitted, I did not care if they did.
"But you're working on something. He'll distract you."
I refrained from pointing out the obvious. "That's my problem, not his. He has every right to be here."
And that's when she went from just annoying me to me wanting to punch her square in the face. "Those people need to be kept at home so that normal people don't have to be bothered."
I have a temper, I know that.
I have the ability to inflict injury, I know that.
I have far less patience for idiots than I did even five years ago, I know that.
I wanted to punch her, and punch her hard, I know that.
What I did was close my laptop, and while I shoved it into my bag I said, "You know what? Fuck you."
And I left.
Then I went grocery shopping, and found myself at Wendy's, trying to smother that anger with a burger I didn't need, and trying to figure out what I was most angry about. That she was a raging farktard? Or that I lowered myself to her level with my parting words?
I don't know.
But I do know that heading into Wendy's was something I did subconsciously; I wasn't all that hungry, and there was food at home had I been. I wasn't eating a burger, I was eating my anger, and that, frankly, bothers me.
30 January 2016
When it comes to people online, I can be fairly easy going. If I find, after knowing you for a while, that you made up a background story for yourself just to make online life more fun—and you don’t do it to for emotional or financial manipulation—I can shrug it off. I’ve known a few people over the years who have changed the details of their lives to make themselves more comfortable in chat rooms and interest forums, but they didn’t do it for any gain other than to have someone else to talk to. The person that stands out the most in my head is someone I met on Prodigy a billion years ago; “he” was actually a woman, but inverted the details of her life because she frankly did not want to deal with the way some men online behave toward women. She never asked for anything, never made up any horrific stories garnered to reap sympathy, never used personal tragedy for money.
She simply wanted to play online without being hassled. I get that. It didn’t bother me when I found out, because I understood it.
What I have a more difficult time shrugging off are the people who exist online to get something: attention, money, or both. Half the time I can’t figure out what it is they really want, but what they’re doing is several levels of wrong, and it’s hard to shrug off.
There’s a cat blogger who has created quite the life for herself online, even going to the extreme of sucking up pictures from random of other peoples’ kids and someone else’s husband, and presenting them to the world as her own. I’m guessing about 80% of the people involved in the Cat Blogosphere know that most of what she posts is complete bullshit (other than a couple of cats, we’re not even sure she’s had most of the cats she’s claimed to have) and I don’t think anyone would care…except that she’s taken money from us under the guise of some hard times (that some shrewd CBers have proven to be false) and she’s claimed to have had breast cancer (which I seriously doubt, given the details she provided.) If she’d just created this fantasy life, I would have uttered =meh= out loud, and moved on. But she didn’t: she took money and she played the cancer card.
Wrong.
Poke around online long enough, and you’ll find a plethora of similar stories, people who have this horrible disease and get others to host fundraisers so they can meet their rent, buy food, put clothes on their kids’ backs…and then they’re outed as being liars.
It’s a crime, you know. Some have been prosecuted, most have not.
The whole crapfest came to mind again today when presented with evidence that a 3 Day rock star—someone who has, through cultivation of a very large team of walkers and crew members—raised over $300,000 for the 3 Day. She’s done an incredible amount of good work by claiming to have had breast cancer multiple times and using that platform as the basis for her fundraising.
But…she apparently never had cancer at all.
And, you know, I could almost shrug that off. This is a cause that becomes so personal to a lot of people that it becomes a mission. There are, within the 3 Day community, a few people that I honestly feel have a calling to do this. They walk multiple events each year (some walk all of them, raising a minimum of $2300 for each walk) and they do it because they NEED to be a part of the process that eventually finds a cure.
I thought she was one of them.
But…but…but…other people, online and in real life, have held fundraisers for her, and she took the money. All the bits and pieces of fine details are not yet clear, but the big picture is this: she manipulated literally thousands of people into honestly giving a damn about what she was supposedly going through, she had people in emotional turmoil and agony over it, crying real tears, and more than once. She was fine with other people hurting for her, and she was fine with their efforts to raise money on her behalf, and fine with taking it.
And that’s where I draw the line.
Play the cancer card, take the money, and you’re quite the wretched person in my book.
I don’t know how she started down that path; maybe in the beginning it really seemed like a good way to fundraise for a decent cause. Maybe she never intended for it to go that far. Maybe all she ever really wanted was to cure a disease, and this was the only way she could think of. Maybe. Lots of maybes.
I’m annoyed by it all; I have no personal stake in her charade other than being a part of the same community, and being a face in the crowd that cheered her on as she created this amazing team of people and as she became a motivational speaker for the cause. I’m not broken by it, but I know others who are clearly gutted because they developed a real and personal connection to her.
There are a whole lot of totally gobsmacked people in the 3 Day community right now. They want answers, and those may never come. I have no idea what will become of the team she created, but I hope they stick together, change their name, and soldier on. I hope that their spirit isn’t broken.
For everyone else who takes up a cause—any cause—people who do this make it that much harder. Fundraising is already difficult, and when news like this surfaces it can make wallets snap shut with a loud pop, because potential donors can’t trust the information being given to them.
If you do this, if you lie about being sick for the sake of attention and money, you not only put yourself at risk for the repercussions, you make life that much more difficult for those caught up in your web and the people around them. You destroy trust; it’s the bridge that you not only burn behind you, but incinerate everything within a 5 mile radius.
Not everyone is outed (the cat blogger in question has never been publicly outed, but has been privately…if she was unaware, she’s probably figuring it out right about…now) and that’s where several levels of wrong exist: when people come to understand that there are more liars out there than they realize, their support ends. In the case of the 3 Day, this will probably cause a few participants to walk away.
I can’t blame them. It’s hard to walk 60 miles in 3 days when your soul is bleeding.
I will walk this year; the Spouse Thingy will walk this year. And I promise you this: I will not engage in emotional manipulation to raise the money for that. I may beg, I may offer to do weird and humiliating things, I will have prizes, but I will not lie about something so important just to call attention to myself and reap whatever benefits that might bring.
If you got caught up in any of it, I am truly sorry. But know this: whatever you donated, whatever tears you shed, however deeply you cared and how hard you worked to help her, it came from a very good place, and you deserve the karma that brings.
And people do actually do things like this: karma’s gonna bite you in the ass.
Karma always wins.
She simply wanted to play online without being hassled. I get that. It didn’t bother me when I found out, because I understood it.
What I have a more difficult time shrugging off are the people who exist online to get something: attention, money, or both. Half the time I can’t figure out what it is they really want, but what they’re doing is several levels of wrong, and it’s hard to shrug off.
There’s a cat blogger who has created quite the life for herself online, even going to the extreme of sucking up pictures from random of other peoples’ kids and someone else’s husband, and presenting them to the world as her own. I’m guessing about 80% of the people involved in the Cat Blogosphere know that most of what she posts is complete bullshit (other than a couple of cats, we’re not even sure she’s had most of the cats she’s claimed to have) and I don’t think anyone would care…except that she’s taken money from us under the guise of some hard times (that some shrewd CBers have proven to be false) and she’s claimed to have had breast cancer (which I seriously doubt, given the details she provided.) If she’d just created this fantasy life, I would have uttered =meh= out loud, and moved on. But she didn’t: she took money and she played the cancer card.
Wrong.
Poke around online long enough, and you’ll find a plethora of similar stories, people who have this horrible disease and get others to host fundraisers so they can meet their rent, buy food, put clothes on their kids’ backs…and then they’re outed as being liars.
It’s a crime, you know. Some have been prosecuted, most have not.
The whole crapfest came to mind again today when presented with evidence that a 3 Day rock star—someone who has, through cultivation of a very large team of walkers and crew members—raised over $300,000 for the 3 Day. She’s done an incredible amount of good work by claiming to have had breast cancer multiple times and using that platform as the basis for her fundraising.
But…she apparently never had cancer at all.
And, you know, I could almost shrug that off. This is a cause that becomes so personal to a lot of people that it becomes a mission. There are, within the 3 Day community, a few people that I honestly feel have a calling to do this. They walk multiple events each year (some walk all of them, raising a minimum of $2300 for each walk) and they do it because they NEED to be a part of the process that eventually finds a cure.
I thought she was one of them.
But…but…but…other people, online and in real life, have held fundraisers for her, and she took the money. All the bits and pieces of fine details are not yet clear, but the big picture is this: she manipulated literally thousands of people into honestly giving a damn about what she was supposedly going through, she had people in emotional turmoil and agony over it, crying real tears, and more than once. She was fine with other people hurting for her, and she was fine with their efforts to raise money on her behalf, and fine with taking it.
And that’s where I draw the line.
Play the cancer card, take the money, and you’re quite the wretched person in my book.
I don’t know how she started down that path; maybe in the beginning it really seemed like a good way to fundraise for a decent cause. Maybe she never intended for it to go that far. Maybe all she ever really wanted was to cure a disease, and this was the only way she could think of. Maybe. Lots of maybes.
I’m annoyed by it all; I have no personal stake in her charade other than being a part of the same community, and being a face in the crowd that cheered her on as she created this amazing team of people and as she became a motivational speaker for the cause. I’m not broken by it, but I know others who are clearly gutted because they developed a real and personal connection to her.
There are a whole lot of totally gobsmacked people in the 3 Day community right now. They want answers, and those may never come. I have no idea what will become of the team she created, but I hope they stick together, change their name, and soldier on. I hope that their spirit isn’t broken.
For everyone else who takes up a cause—any cause—people who do this make it that much harder. Fundraising is already difficult, and when news like this surfaces it can make wallets snap shut with a loud pop, because potential donors can’t trust the information being given to them.
If you do this, if you lie about being sick for the sake of attention and money, you not only put yourself at risk for the repercussions, you make life that much more difficult for those caught up in your web and the people around them. You destroy trust; it’s the bridge that you not only burn behind you, but incinerate everything within a 5 mile radius.
Not everyone is outed (the cat blogger in question has never been publicly outed, but has been privately…if she was unaware, she’s probably figuring it out right about…now) and that’s where several levels of wrong exist: when people come to understand that there are more liars out there than they realize, their support ends. In the case of the 3 Day, this will probably cause a few participants to walk away.
I can’t blame them. It’s hard to walk 60 miles in 3 days when your soul is bleeding.
I will walk this year; the Spouse Thingy will walk this year. And I promise you this: I will not engage in emotional manipulation to raise the money for that. I may beg, I may offer to do weird and humiliating things, I will have prizes, but I will not lie about something so important just to call attention to myself and reap whatever benefits that might bring.
If you got caught up in any of it, I am truly sorry. But know this: whatever you donated, whatever tears you shed, however deeply you cared and how hard you worked to help her, it came from a very good place, and you deserve the karma that brings.
And people do actually do things like this: karma’s gonna bite you in the ass.
Karma always wins.
Thursday
21 January 2016
THINGS THAT ARE ANNOYING ME TODAY
♦ The treadmill. Why does the treadmill have to be so freaking boring? Even with the TV on…boringboringboring. Today’s 5-7 miles will be done one at a time. On for a mile, off for distraction, on for a mile, off for lunch…until I get the damned miles in.
♦No, cat, I am not making a lap right now. I am using the computer on it while I muster up enough maturity to get back on the treadmill.
♦ Having to wait for the delivery dude. He’s the reason I’m stuck inside. I could be outside, plodding through town while I pretend to jog but am really just walking. But no…they won’t just leave beer by the door without a signature. Sheesh.
♦Seriously, furball. Stop practically humping my head while you lounge on the back of the chair, trying to get me to make a lap.
♦ Politicians. Holy hell. Stop saying you’ll fix something, and freaking tell us HOW you’ll fix it. Stop blathering on about everything you think your opponent is doing wrong and start telling us what you’ll do right. Right side, left side, I don’t care…the campaigning sucks.
♦ STOP MEOWING, CAT! I swear to Bast, you talk more than an 8 year old girl.
♦ Memes offering up “less desirable” celebrities in lieu of popular ones dying. I hate that Alan Rickman, David Bowie, and Glenn Frey have died, too, but come on…these memes saying “take the Kardashians” instead are just mean.
♦ Jesus, cat…
♦ That I have no idea if I spelled “Kardashians” correctly. I either spelled out the Hollywood family, or the Star Trek Deep Space Nine bad guys.
♦Licking my hair is not going to make me cater to your whims, cat.
♦ We are out of tomato soup.
♦ Really, furball? You’re going to beat me to death with your tail? At the rate you’re going, it will take another 24.8 years of popping it against my neck for that to work.
♦ Ok, great, the delivery dude has come and gone and I am free to go about my business. But I just ate lunch and I know better than to try to do anything for an hour, and then after that I need to go grocery shopping and I’ll buy more than I can carry while on foot, so… blah.
♦ Seriously cat, I am trading you in on a new model. Get your damned nose out of my ear.
♦ The treadmill. Why does the treadmill have to be so freaking boring? Even with the TV on…boringboringboring. Today’s 5-7 miles will be done one at a time. On for a mile, off for distraction, on for a mile, off for lunch…until I get the damned miles in.
♦No, cat, I am not making a lap right now. I am using the computer on it while I muster up enough maturity to get back on the treadmill.
♦ Having to wait for the delivery dude. He’s the reason I’m stuck inside. I could be outside, plodding through town while I pretend to jog but am really just walking. But no…they won’t just leave beer by the door without a signature. Sheesh.
♦Seriously, furball. Stop practically humping my head while you lounge on the back of the chair, trying to get me to make a lap.
♦ Politicians. Holy hell. Stop saying you’ll fix something, and freaking tell us HOW you’ll fix it. Stop blathering on about everything you think your opponent is doing wrong and start telling us what you’ll do right. Right side, left side, I don’t care…the campaigning sucks.
♦ STOP MEOWING, CAT! I swear to Bast, you talk more than an 8 year old girl.
♦ Memes offering up “less desirable” celebrities in lieu of popular ones dying. I hate that Alan Rickman, David Bowie, and Glenn Frey have died, too, but come on…these memes saying “take the Kardashians” instead are just mean.
♦ Jesus, cat…
♦ That I have no idea if I spelled “Kardashians” correctly. I either spelled out the Hollywood family, or the Star Trek Deep Space Nine bad guys.
♦Licking my hair is not going to make me cater to your whims, cat.
♦ We are out of tomato soup.
♦ Really, furball? You’re going to beat me to death with your tail? At the rate you’re going, it will take another 24.8 years of popping it against my neck for that to work.
♦ Ok, great, the delivery dude has come and gone and I am free to go about my business. But I just ate lunch and I know better than to try to do anything for an hour, and then after that I need to go grocery shopping and I’ll buy more than I can carry while on foot, so… blah.
♦ Seriously cat, I am trading you in on a new model. Get your damned nose out of my ear.
Friday
15 January 2016
A few months back, after declaring defeat in the 14-year long battle of Max in The Morning, I started going to bed at a normal-people time and getting up at Food O’Clock, which happens to be right around 7 a.m. My natural body clock wants to stay up until 3 a.m. and get up at 10, but I’m starting to get used to the change. Morning still burns, but I can deal with it, at least on the days when Max hasn’t spent the night wandering the house yowling at the top of his lungs.
Sometimes I think I should worry about that, but then I realize he’s always been a pain in the ass during the night, and has always coughed up a song or two, and does it loud enough to wake me up.
It’s like having a baby that wakes you up 2-3 times a night…for 14 years.
Anyway. I’ve been getting up in the actual morning, when normal people are awake doing normal people things. It really didn’t surprise me to discover I can get more done during the day, since my errand running and the like is no longer blocked by the frustrations of being night blind (oh, I’m still night blind…I just get things done before dark now.) It also didn’t surprise me to find a little extra energy, because I’m actually getting more sleep now than before.
But what has surprised me?
The hunger. I’m hungry all the time now. I was losing weight before; now it’s just stopped because I am so much hungrier than I was.
I used to have breakfast at 10:30-11:00, an hour after getting up and taking my meds. Now I’m struggling to get past 8 before having breakfast, which means I want lunch far earlier, and making it to dinner without a snack?
Not happening. Or if it does, when dinner rolls around I want to eat everything in sight, and then want dessert…which I used to eat, like, never.
These days, I think I would eat the soul of crying toddler if it was sweet or satiating enough.
The easy answer would be to follow my hunger cues and go back to my old schedule…but come summer I want to be up and outside while it’s still cool, and when you sleep until 10 a.m., outside is not all that cool around here. I have lots of training coming up, and it would be nice to get it done when it’s not 90 degrees of ohhellno.
So clearly, I need to go back to school, get a degree in biochemistry or agricultural medicine or whatever, and develop a line of tasty, filling, calorie-free foods so that I can still get up in the morning and eat my way through the day.
ZERO CAL DONUTS Y’ALL!
Because honestly, I think that would be a whole lot easier than developing some self-discipline and embracing the idea that being hungry for an extra hour is truly not going to kill me.
It might, you know.
It really might.
Sometimes I think I should worry about that, but then I realize he’s always been a pain in the ass during the night, and has always coughed up a song or two, and does it loud enough to wake me up.
It’s like having a baby that wakes you up 2-3 times a night…for 14 years.
Anyway. I’ve been getting up in the actual morning, when normal people are awake doing normal people things. It really didn’t surprise me to discover I can get more done during the day, since my errand running and the like is no longer blocked by the frustrations of being night blind (oh, I’m still night blind…I just get things done before dark now.) It also didn’t surprise me to find a little extra energy, because I’m actually getting more sleep now than before.
But what has surprised me?
The hunger. I’m hungry all the time now. I was losing weight before; now it’s just stopped because I am so much hungrier than I was.
I used to have breakfast at 10:30-11:00, an hour after getting up and taking my meds. Now I’m struggling to get past 8 before having breakfast, which means I want lunch far earlier, and making it to dinner without a snack?
Not happening. Or if it does, when dinner rolls around I want to eat everything in sight, and then want dessert…which I used to eat, like, never.
These days, I think I would eat the soul of crying toddler if it was sweet or satiating enough.
The easy answer would be to follow my hunger cues and go back to my old schedule…but come summer I want to be up and outside while it’s still cool, and when you sleep until 10 a.m., outside is not all that cool around here. I have lots of training coming up, and it would be nice to get it done when it’s not 90 degrees of ohhellno.
So clearly, I need to go back to school, get a degree in biochemistry or agricultural medicine or whatever, and develop a line of tasty, filling, calorie-free foods so that I can still get up in the morning and eat my way through the day.
ZERO CAL DONUTS Y’ALL!
Because honestly, I think that would be a whole lot easier than developing some self-discipline and embracing the idea that being hungry for an extra hour is truly not going to kill me.
It might, you know.
It really might.
Sunday
10 January 2016
My goals for the Hot Chocolate 15K were to have fun with it, and to not die. I did not count on developing the sinus infection from Hell and the dizziness it would bring. I did not count on the complete lack of training in the week and a half leading up to it, because of said sinus crap. I can't even roll over in bed without the world spinning around me (and while I have to admit, it's kind of a fun feeling) which is not conducive to walk/jog/crawling 9 miles. When you run, your nose does, too...only mine isn't running, all that gook is just flowing into my ears.
So between the lack of preparedness in being able to meet the pace, and the real chance I would face-plant right there on the Great Ocean Highway, we bagged the race today and opted to go shopping yesterday instead (hey, we each saved over $200 on the hotel rooms. So we spent it.) But...BUT...I am making up the mileage today, but in chunks that my spinning head can manage.
I hit the outlet mall this morning while it was still mostly deserted, and pounded out 5 miles, with a short break in there somewhere to get some tea (tip: don't try to powerwalk with hot tea in hand, even with a lid on the cup. It still comes out of the little hole) and after my lunch has settled, I'll do the rest, probably on the treadmill but maybe not. It's only 2:10 right now, so I'll have enough light if I want to head out in the next half hour.
The only thing I'm disappointed about is not showing up for the race. I wanted to be there, because it's freaking San Francisco, and walking there is always amazing. But that's it...not worried about upsetting anyone else, the lost entry fee, not getting a medal. I'm doing the miles anyway (even though I told DKM yesterday that I wouldn't. I got up this morning and it was like, hell yes, I'm doing 9 today) and I'm doing it at a pace I can handle, though quicker than I'd like, and in chunks that don't have me pushing through the dizziness.
What I truly do not what to do is risk an injury that will keep me from making it to the Pixie Dust Challenge in May. I honestly felt like going to the Hot Chocolate today was setting myself up for something stupid, and I really, really want to nail the PDC and make Tinkerbell my little bitch.
In fact, I'm looking at the events I've signed up for already, and pondering thinning the list, just so I don't push too hard and miss the two things I most want to do: the Pixie Dust Challenge (10K Saturday, Half Marathon Sunday) and then the San Diego 3 Day. I may (probably will) dump the Avon walk. I haven't made it to one yet, so why break that streak? It's what I do...register, plan, and then not participate. I might as well plan on not participating, and saving those training miles (not to mention the fundraising. I really don't want to bug people to raise that much, especially since The Spouse Thingy is walking this year, too.)
I think my charity events this year will be St. Baldrick's and the 3 Day...anything else I do will be for fun.
St. Baldrick's is at the end of next month...first person to donate $300 gets to pick the color I dye my hair for it.
Remember, this happened last year.
Splotchy green scalp.
It could be even weirder this year...
So between the lack of preparedness in being able to meet the pace, and the real chance I would face-plant right there on the Great Ocean Highway, we bagged the race today and opted to go shopping yesterday instead (hey, we each saved over $200 on the hotel rooms. So we spent it.) But...BUT...I am making up the mileage today, but in chunks that my spinning head can manage.
I hit the outlet mall this morning while it was still mostly deserted, and pounded out 5 miles, with a short break in there somewhere to get some tea (tip: don't try to powerwalk with hot tea in hand, even with a lid on the cup. It still comes out of the little hole) and after my lunch has settled, I'll do the rest, probably on the treadmill but maybe not. It's only 2:10 right now, so I'll have enough light if I want to head out in the next half hour.
The only thing I'm disappointed about is not showing up for the race. I wanted to be there, because it's freaking San Francisco, and walking there is always amazing. But that's it...not worried about upsetting anyone else, the lost entry fee, not getting a medal. I'm doing the miles anyway (even though I told DKM yesterday that I wouldn't. I got up this morning and it was like, hell yes, I'm doing 9 today) and I'm doing it at a pace I can handle, though quicker than I'd like, and in chunks that don't have me pushing through the dizziness.
What I truly do not what to do is risk an injury that will keep me from making it to the Pixie Dust Challenge in May. I honestly felt like going to the Hot Chocolate today was setting myself up for something stupid, and I really, really want to nail the PDC and make Tinkerbell my little bitch.
In fact, I'm looking at the events I've signed up for already, and pondering thinning the list, just so I don't push too hard and miss the two things I most want to do: the Pixie Dust Challenge (10K Saturday, Half Marathon Sunday) and then the San Diego 3 Day. I may (probably will) dump the Avon walk. I haven't made it to one yet, so why break that streak? It's what I do...register, plan, and then not participate. I might as well plan on not participating, and saving those training miles (not to mention the fundraising. I really don't want to bug people to raise that much, especially since The Spouse Thingy is walking this year, too.)
St. Baldrick's is at the end of next month...first person to donate $300 gets to pick the color I dye my hair for it.
Remember, this happened last year.
Splotchy green scalp.
It could be even weirder this year...
Wednesday
6 January 2016
Even though the Avon Walk is 7 months away and the 3 Day is 11 months away, my brain is already engaged trying to come up with some creative and fun ways to fundraise. There are a few decent (I think) things percolating in my head, but I won't get around to really working on those until next week.
To start though...I'm doing a t-shirt fundraiser; I set a goal of 50 shirts, but only 16 need to be sold in order for it to print, and as of right now, only 6 more sales are needed.
This is also the jump point for the couple of other things I have planned...stay tuned, you can earn a pink belt. Or be in a book.
But for now... YOU WANT A SHIRT, YOU KNOW YOU DO!
(ok, *I* want a shirt so I need 16 to sell. 50 would be super spiffy, but I'll be happy with 16.)
Clicky here.
It runs for 15 more days. That's it.
To start though...I'm doing a t-shirt fundraiser; I set a goal of 50 shirts, but only 16 need to be sold in order for it to print, and as of right now, only 6 more sales are needed.
 |
| Front |
 |
| Back |
But for now... YOU WANT A SHIRT, YOU KNOW YOU DO!
(ok, *I* want a shirt so I need 16 to sell. 50 would be super spiffy, but I'll be happy with 16.)
Clicky here.
It runs for 15 more days. That's it.
Thursday
31 December 2015
I'm not much of a resolution-type person; absolutes set me up for failure, and a year from now I don't want to sit here beating myself up because I had this list written down, and a bunch of the things on it are unchecked. However, I do like to make some generalized plans, goals for the the year, and I like the idea of the new year being a new slate to write on.
2015 was the year I wanted to focus on getting my krap together--eat better, move more, get control of some of the physical things that vex me--and I pretty much did what I set out to do. I paid better attention to the things I was eating, and while I ended the year with a tasty 2 week food fest, for the most part I got a good handle on it. I hit the gym and re-discovered a fondness for swimming, working up to a fairly easy 1.5-2 miles at a time. I worked with my doc to pin down my blood sugar issues, and the things she suggested are working, for the most part. I still have the odd moments here and there when it crashes, but I can now at least get through a workout with a lot of worrying.
I didn't participate in any charity walks; part of the getting-my-krap-together thing was taking a break from those. I wanted to focus on a more rounded approach to fitness, and just walking wasn't going to do it.
But 2016...I will walk again. Better yet, the Spouse Thingy is going to walk with me. We're registered to walk in the San Diego 3 Day for next November. The rest of the Pink Slips are going to Atlanta and crewing there, and a big part of me wants to go, too, but I won't know what my doc thinks about me flying until May, and by then the crew slots will be gone.
Plus...I am totally digging the idea of the Spouse Thingy walking with DKM and me. He's crewed before (and if he can't get in the training time, he may wind up crewing after all...but I think we'll get it done) but this would be his first walk, and maybe he'll get an idea of why it matters so much to me.
That will probably be the capstone for 2016, which I'm starting to think of as the Year of Doing. Other plans:
♦ Hot Chocolate 15K on January 10th, the previously mentioned race that I am in no way ready for. I'm still determined to have fun with it, finish or not. I have only two hopes for it: to have fun and to not die.
♦ The St. Baldrick's Shave-a-thon to raise money for kids' cancer is in February, and I'm registered for that. I've been seriously flip-flopping over doing it again; while I enjoy dyeing my hair odd colors and rocking the faux-hawk every now and then, I truly do not enjoy the shaved-head look for myself. And right now my hair is the longest it's been in 2 years (which isn't long, really) and part of me wants to have normal hair for a while...but. I can't do much for kids who have cancer, but I can do this.
♦ Donna virtual marathon for breast cancer; I'm registering at the beginning of the year and just have to get it done before March 31st.
♦ The Pixie Dust Challenge at Disneyland in May. Two races back to back, a 10K on Saturday and a half marathon on Sunday. I'm not worried about the distance, just meeting the pace. It's a required 16 minute mile pace, which is slow for most people, but pretty freaking speedy for me. I'd worry if it was in February or March, but being May I think I'll have it down by then.
♦ The Avon Walk in San Francisco late July. I know I haven't actually walked in the 3 I registered for, but this is the year. I registered already, and am determined to be healthy enough to do it this time around.
♦ Yosemite Half Marathon in October. This should be a good warmup for the 3 Day.
♦ And then there's the 3 Day in November. That should be a good way to end the Year of Doing. After that we spring into the holidays and take the time to enjoy just Being.
So no real resolutions, but lots of plans and things to look forward to. Less of working on me and more of doing things that this year's working on me has allowed.
Now, I would like to lose about 50 more pounds in 2016, but I'm not resolving to do it. If I keep eating well and working, the weight will take care of itself, or not.
As my doc told me this year: you are not a number of the scale; keep doing what you're doing, and you'll be fine.
And I will be.
I am.
2015 was the year I wanted to focus on getting my krap together--eat better, move more, get control of some of the physical things that vex me--and I pretty much did what I set out to do. I paid better attention to the things I was eating, and while I ended the year with a tasty 2 week food fest, for the most part I got a good handle on it. I hit the gym and re-discovered a fondness for swimming, working up to a fairly easy 1.5-2 miles at a time. I worked with my doc to pin down my blood sugar issues, and the things she suggested are working, for the most part. I still have the odd moments here and there when it crashes, but I can now at least get through a workout with a lot of worrying.
I didn't participate in any charity walks; part of the getting-my-krap-together thing was taking a break from those. I wanted to focus on a more rounded approach to fitness, and just walking wasn't going to do it.
 |
| Onward and upward |
Plus...I am totally digging the idea of the Spouse Thingy walking with DKM and me. He's crewed before (and if he can't get in the training time, he may wind up crewing after all...but I think we'll get it done) but this would be his first walk, and maybe he'll get an idea of why it matters so much to me.
That will probably be the capstone for 2016, which I'm starting to think of as the Year of Doing. Other plans:
♦ Hot Chocolate 15K on January 10th, the previously mentioned race that I am in no way ready for. I'm still determined to have fun with it, finish or not. I have only two hopes for it: to have fun and to not die.
 |
| Might want to get rid of this mop, eh? |
♦ Donna virtual marathon for breast cancer; I'm registering at the beginning of the year and just have to get it done before March 31st.
♦ The Pixie Dust Challenge at Disneyland in May. Two races back to back, a 10K on Saturday and a half marathon on Sunday. I'm not worried about the distance, just meeting the pace. It's a required 16 minute mile pace, which is slow for most people, but pretty freaking speedy for me. I'd worry if it was in February or March, but being May I think I'll have it down by then.
♦ The Avon Walk in San Francisco late July. I know I haven't actually walked in the 3 I registered for, but this is the year. I registered already, and am determined to be healthy enough to do it this time around.
♦ Yosemite Half Marathon in October. This should be a good warmup for the 3 Day.
 |
| Let's not do this again... |
So no real resolutions, but lots of plans and things to look forward to. Less of working on me and more of doing things that this year's working on me has allowed.
Now, I would like to lose about 50 more pounds in 2016, but I'm not resolving to do it. If I keep eating well and working, the weight will take care of itself, or not.
As my doc told me this year: you are not a number of the scale; keep doing what you're doing, and you'll be fine.
And I will be.
I am.
Sunday
27 December 2015
I think I bit off more than I can chew.
Right after the Beat the Blerch run in November I registered for the Hot Chocolate 15k in San Francisco on January 10th. It was like, sure, why not? It's more than double the 10k distance and it has a 15 minute mile pace requirement, where the Blerch had none and I finished with a 17:14 pace.
Surely training would change that.
Now, I'm not an idiot. I honestly didn't sign up for it thinking I would finish--I knew I could do the distance but not the pace--but the idea was that in having a goal, I would train, and get as close to that 15m/m as I could.
I haven't trained nearly as much as I should, and because I am a weenie and it's been cold and rainy or cold and windy, what I've done has been on the treadmill.
I loathe the treadmill. (ok, I loathe our treadmill. It's a cheap one, the belt is starting to slip, and it's like running on concrete that's inexplicably harder than running on concrete. I don't enjoy it, not one bit.) I'll pop something up on the TV and do it, but it's torture, and I just don't stay on it as long as I should.
I also haven't been able to consistently break a 16:30 pace, especially not over distance. A mile, sure, I can gut that out if I've warmed up. Two miles, three...my body just isn't there yet. My back is screaming at me and I can feel a pulling in my lower back, right where I slipped a disk a few years ago.
Most of the time, I think that's a mental thing. I mean, I feel the pain, I feel the twinge and keep begging my back to not give out, but every time I get out of a chair and grimace, I'm half certain it's my brain screwing with me, already making excuses.
I should have registered for the 5K and not the 15, I know that. I could push myself through a 5K and at least come close to finishing in the time required. I keep telling myself that I wanted the 15k in order to really push myself, to go the distance even if don't make the pace, but the truth is that it was probably more ego than anything else.
The run is in 2 weeks; I'm nowhere near the pace I need to be. I also know that near the end is the horrible climb up the hill near the Cliff House, and I know how badly that hurt during the 3 Day. Where I was pretty sure I wouldn't finish before, now I am certain.
It'll be my own damn fault.
I'll still show up, I'll still try my best and go until I can't go any longer, but I'm not as stupid as I am lazy: I did not train well enough and I am not fast enough. I am not prepared for the crush of the crowd of other runners, and I am not prepared for the hills.
I'm okay with it.
Well...other than by the time I'm done all the hot chocolate at the end will be gone. I'm not okay with that. I want my hot chocolate, dammit.
Right after the Beat the Blerch run in November I registered for the Hot Chocolate 15k in San Francisco on January 10th. It was like, sure, why not? It's more than double the 10k distance and it has a 15 minute mile pace requirement, where the Blerch had none and I finished with a 17:14 pace.
Surely training would change that.
Now, I'm not an idiot. I honestly didn't sign up for it thinking I would finish--I knew I could do the distance but not the pace--but the idea was that in having a goal, I would train, and get as close to that 15m/m as I could.
I haven't trained nearly as much as I should, and because I am a weenie and it's been cold and rainy or cold and windy, what I've done has been on the treadmill.
I loathe the treadmill. (ok, I loathe our treadmill. It's a cheap one, the belt is starting to slip, and it's like running on concrete that's inexplicably harder than running on concrete. I don't enjoy it, not one bit.) I'll pop something up on the TV and do it, but it's torture, and I just don't stay on it as long as I should.
I also haven't been able to consistently break a 16:30 pace, especially not over distance. A mile, sure, I can gut that out if I've warmed up. Two miles, three...my body just isn't there yet. My back is screaming at me and I can feel a pulling in my lower back, right where I slipped a disk a few years ago.
Most of the time, I think that's a mental thing. I mean, I feel the pain, I feel the twinge and keep begging my back to not give out, but every time I get out of a chair and grimace, I'm half certain it's my brain screwing with me, already making excuses.
I should have registered for the 5K and not the 15, I know that. I could push myself through a 5K and at least come close to finishing in the time required. I keep telling myself that I wanted the 15k in order to really push myself, to go the distance even if don't make the pace, but the truth is that it was probably more ego than anything else.The run is in 2 weeks; I'm nowhere near the pace I need to be. I also know that near the end is the horrible climb up the hill near the Cliff House, and I know how badly that hurt during the 3 Day. Where I was pretty sure I wouldn't finish before, now I am certain.
It'll be my own damn fault.
I'll still show up, I'll still try my best and go until I can't go any longer, but I'm not as stupid as I am lazy: I did not train well enough and I am not fast enough. I am not prepared for the crush of the crowd of other runners, and I am not prepared for the hills.
I'm okay with it.
Well...other than by the time I'm done all the hot chocolate at the end will be gone. I'm not okay with that. I want my hot chocolate, dammit.
Friday
Saturday
19 December 2015
Now I know what to do with all my old shoes...
'Course, now I am sad because of all the shoes I've gotten rid of in the last few years...I could already have this if I'd kept them.
 |
| In the Converse store, downtown San Francisco |
Wednesday
9 December 2015
Many years ago, I grew a head in a nylon sock with grass for hair...and it turned out looking like Bill Clinton. It everntually got maggots and had to be tossed out, but while it was alive, it was glorious.
Monday
7 December 2015
If I figure out who's been handing out my number...
(I did LOL anyway. It was so far outside the expected that how could I not?)
((But still, if I find out you gave my number out without asking me first, you will be the 3rd person I have ever unfriended on FB.))
(((I have no idea about which book they were referring.)))
((But still, if I find out you gave my number out without asking me first, you will be the 3rd person I have ever unfriended on FB.))
(((I have no idea about which book they were referring.)))
Thursday
3 December 2015
Monday morning we headed for the airport, waited way too long in the airport because we believed the talking heads on TV when they said security lines were still wicked long, and then boarded a flight for the LA area. The takeoff was a little bumpy (which did not help my flying anxiety in the least) but an hour and fifteen minutes later we were there. Twenty minutes after that we were in a taxi, half an hour after that we’d checked into the hotel, and by 3 p.m. we were walking toward the front gates at Disneyland.
The plan was four and a half days, and we wanted to get in all the things we hadn’t done before, maybe twice. The crowd predictor said it wasn’t going to be crowded at all, so we had high hopes we’d do it all.
Yeah.
What did was a lot of walking. 7 miles on Monday afternoon and evening. We didn’t ride a thing, just walked around and enjoyed the holiday decorations, making plans for what we were going to do in the morning. Because, look! Not crowded!
So we walked. We wanted to hang around until dark to see the park lit up with holiday decorations, and enjoy everything.
But then…
Holy cow.
All the people.
It was crowded before, a lot more than the crowd predictor said, but by then it was *crowded*. One of the things the Spouse Thingy has wanted to do but we never had was to be in the park when the fireworks went off, and that was the goal. More and more people poured in, and as we walked around it was pretty clear that we were going to hate it soon.
We bailed around 8:15.
We got to bed very early, I did not sleep, but hell…Disneyland. Who cares?
Tuesday morning we were up bright and early and dammit, we were hitting up Space Mountain (which is now Hyperspace Mountain) and then getting a fast pass so we could ride it again. Space Mountain is the one Must Do in Disneyland for me; ideally we ride it 3 times a day and only don’t ride it more because there are actually other things to do there.
Sixty billion other people had the same idea. The wait line for standby riders was already over an hour long, and we wound up in a 20 minute line just to get fast passes. All right, fine, once a day is still good enough…I can’t stand in one place very long, so over an hour in a line for anything just isn’t happening. We got our passes and then went looking for things to do until we had to go back.
We had breakfast and people-watched while we ate, then headed for some kiddie rides to kill time. Other than Peter Pan (an hour) those rides had short lines, so we amused ourselves with Pinocchio and Cinderella, and then finally got to Space Mountain.
It was AWESOME. So awesome we thought we’d grab fast passes for later, even knowing it might be 4 or 5 o’clock.
But nope…no more available. Lines for everything were fairly long, so we headed for CA Adventures and got onto Radiator Springs using the single rider line (standby: 65 minutes) and had lunch…and did a lot more walking.
Sometime during the day I realized I was drinking, but not peeing. So I drank a little more. And I felt tired, but hey, I hadn’t slept.
On the plus side? We hit 12 miles for the day.
We got to bed a little less early, but still planned on being up at a decent time…but I did not sleep again. Maybe 3 hours, and not all at once.
When we got up, I was overly tired but still wanted to head out right off the bat in order to grab another Space Mountain fast pass. The line for that was shorter but the wait to go back was just as long, so we wandered.
I was more than tired. And I was swollen all over. Still drinking but barely peeing. Everything hurt. We went for breakfast and I realized I was already hitting That Point. It was crowded as hell, it was hot, I’d had very little sleep the previous two nights, and my electrolytes were about 60 kinds of screwed up.
By 11 a.m. we’d pretty much decided that if we could get our flight changed, we were going home a day early.
Southwest gets bonus points; they made it super easy to change, and I didn’t even have to talk to anyone. Disneyland Hotel gets points: they weren’t going to make us pay for the night we weren’t going to be there.
We did go back into the park to get on Space Mountain again…which sucked. I don’t know if it was the car we were in or the fact that everything on me already hurt, but I felt completely beat up on it, so much that we didn’t even try to get another fast pass.
I started drinking Gatorade.
I peed a little.
We hit up a couple of the things we for sure wanted to ride, and we wandered around. Made sure we had lunch at Plaza Inn because….fried chicken to die for. Bought some t-shirts. Tried to hit up a few rides but people were shoulder to shoulder and the wait times too long. Took a break at the hotel, partly to get away from all those people but also the heat which was also getting to me.
I had expected to need to take breaks. I hadn’t expected to feel the need to just pack up and go home so early. I’d expected my feet and legs to feel beat up. I hadn’t expected bloating as badly as I did and I surely didn’t expect to drink enough yet still find myself not peeing.
We got a bunch of pictures, left the parks at about 7:45, had dinner, and that was it. 12 more miles.
I didn’t sleep much last night, either.
But now we’re home, a day ahead of when we planned, and I can hear my own bed calling to me. I feel like my face is the size of a basketball and I can tell just by looking my feet are swollen.
Tomorrow night I’ll skip my meds to take care of the bloating if I need to, and in a few days should be back to normal.
But still…even though it sounds like a bad vacation, it wasn’t. We had a really good time, but realized early on that I was for sure going to crash and burn, and rather than tough it out and risk it being an ugly crash, we decided to cut it short. It was really too crowded to get anything done, but the parks were decorated beautifully and other than a couple of things—we never did get to see the fireworks, and we didn’t get on a couple of things we had wanted—we did a lot.
Other than the Tinkerbell next May, we’re taking a break from Disney for a while…but when we do go back, it’ll be with a better plan, one that will get me needed sleep, and hopefully one that will keep me from exploding like a terrified puffer fish. And instead of planning 3.5 days…just 2. My limit seems to be 2.
Disneyland is still one of my favorite places, but with all the things that will be shut down next year while they work on Star Wars Land, it seems like a good time to take a break from it, and do something else next year when we want some down time.
There’s always San Francisco.
I freaking love me some San Francisco.
The plan was four and a half days, and we wanted to get in all the things we hadn’t done before, maybe twice. The crowd predictor said it wasn’t going to be crowded at all, so we had high hopes we’d do it all.
Yeah.
What did was a lot of walking. 7 miles on Monday afternoon and evening. We didn’t ride a thing, just walked around and enjoyed the holiday decorations, making plans for what we were going to do in the morning. Because, look! Not crowded!
So we walked. We wanted to hang around until dark to see the park lit up with holiday decorations, and enjoy everything.
But then…
Holy cow.
All the people.
 |
| When you bail on the fireworks, drink 'em... |
We bailed around 8:15.
We got to bed very early, I did not sleep, but hell…Disneyland. Who cares?
Tuesday morning we were up bright and early and dammit, we were hitting up Space Mountain (which is now Hyperspace Mountain) and then getting a fast pass so we could ride it again. Space Mountain is the one Must Do in Disneyland for me; ideally we ride it 3 times a day and only don’t ride it more because there are actually other things to do there.
Sixty billion other people had the same idea. The wait line for standby riders was already over an hour long, and we wound up in a 20 minute line just to get fast passes. All right, fine, once a day is still good enough…I can’t stand in one place very long, so over an hour in a line for anything just isn’t happening. We got our passes and then went looking for things to do until we had to go back.
We had breakfast and people-watched while we ate, then headed for some kiddie rides to kill time. Other than Peter Pan (an hour) those rides had short lines, so we amused ourselves with Pinocchio and Cinderella, and then finally got to Space Mountain.
It was AWESOME. So awesome we thought we’d grab fast passes for later, even knowing it might be 4 or 5 o’clock.
But nope…no more available. Lines for everything were fairly long, so we headed for CA Adventures and got onto Radiator Springs using the single rider line (standby: 65 minutes) and had lunch…and did a lot more walking.
On the plus side? We hit 12 miles for the day.
We got to bed a little less early, but still planned on being up at a decent time…but I did not sleep again. Maybe 3 hours, and not all at once.
When we got up, I was overly tired but still wanted to head out right off the bat in order to grab another Space Mountain fast pass. The line for that was shorter but the wait to go back was just as long, so we wandered.
I was more than tired. And I was swollen all over. Still drinking but barely peeing. Everything hurt. We went for breakfast and I realized I was already hitting That Point. It was crowded as hell, it was hot, I’d had very little sleep the previous two nights, and my electrolytes were about 60 kinds of screwed up.
By 11 a.m. we’d pretty much decided that if we could get our flight changed, we were going home a day early.
Southwest gets bonus points; they made it super easy to change, and I didn’t even have to talk to anyone. Disneyland Hotel gets points: they weren’t going to make us pay for the night we weren’t going to be there.
We did go back into the park to get on Space Mountain again…which sucked. I don’t know if it was the car we were in or the fact that everything on me already hurt, but I felt completely beat up on it, so much that we didn’t even try to get another fast pass.
I started drinking Gatorade.
I peed a little.
We hit up a couple of the things we for sure wanted to ride, and we wandered around. Made sure we had lunch at Plaza Inn because….fried chicken to die for. Bought some t-shirts. Tried to hit up a few rides but people were shoulder to shoulder and the wait times too long. Took a break at the hotel, partly to get away from all those people but also the heat which was also getting to me.
I had expected to need to take breaks. I hadn’t expected to feel the need to just pack up and go home so early. I’d expected my feet and legs to feel beat up. I hadn’t expected bloating as badly as I did and I surely didn’t expect to drink enough yet still find myself not peeing.
We got a bunch of pictures, left the parks at about 7:45, had dinner, and that was it. 12 more miles.
I didn’t sleep much last night, either.
But now we’re home, a day ahead of when we planned, and I can hear my own bed calling to me. I feel like my face is the size of a basketball and I can tell just by looking my feet are swollen.
Tomorrow night I’ll skip my meds to take care of the bloating if I need to, and in a few days should be back to normal.
 |
| Yes, my shoes match my shirt |
Other than the Tinkerbell next May, we’re taking a break from Disney for a while…but when we do go back, it’ll be with a better plan, one that will get me needed sleep, and hopefully one that will keep me from exploding like a terrified puffer fish. And instead of planning 3.5 days…just 2. My limit seems to be 2.
Disneyland is still one of my favorite places, but with all the things that will be shut down next year while they work on Star Wars Land, it seems like a good time to take a break from it, and do something else next year when we want some down time.
There’s always San Francisco.
I freaking love me some San Francisco.
26 November 2015
I've been playing on Facebook off and on all day, in between bouts of activity (getting dinner ready, facing the treadmill, getting sucked into Jessica Jones) and every time I pop onto FB it demands to know what I'm thankful for today.
Well, FB (since this will pop up over there :::waves at my FB peeps::: ) the things I'm thankful for today are the things I am thankful for every day. You never ask any other time. What's up with that, FB? Is it that you don't really care? Hm?
But... I am thankful. Very thankful. I have too many things to be thankful about to list, but I can try to hit the highlights.
♦ I have a kick-ass family. I would twist your nipples and make you cry like a little girl for my family. I have the most spiffy Spouse Thingy, a frakking fantastic son, wicked awesome sisters, amazing nieces and nephews, and I hit the in-law lottery several times.
♦ Hell yeah. You would be so lucky to have my mother-in-law.
♦ I am especially thankful that my son has found such a wonderful, amazing woman, and that she wants to spend the rest of her life with him. She's bringing a level of class to this family that is sorely needed. (Either than or we're bringing the total opposite to hers, but hey, things balance out.) She brings out in him so much of what we always hoped for: he's always been a good man, but with her, he's a Good Man.
♦ My friends. I have the best circle of friends. And it's an eclectic circle of friends, from cat people to writer people to my tough-as-nails pink people. They're spread out all over the world and while I might not see them often, they are part of the glue that holds me together.
♦ All that pink stuff...while on the surface it's all about finding the cure, doing what little we can to make a difference, that pink stuff has given me focus and a drive to better myself so that I can participate. By taking this year to not walk, I realize how very much it matters to me. The people I've met because of it are people I have come to love, especially my team mates. I truly love the Pink Slips, Rock the Pink, Blogging Babes for Boobies, the people I've crewed with... I will rock my Pink Slips t-shirt until it falls apart.
♦ Other peoples' patience. I know I am not the easiest person to be friends with, because you never know when my crap is going to float to the service and throw a wrench in things. The patience of others has made it possible for me to feel all right about signing up for things and giving them a try.
♦ The furballs. Even though they seem to not want me to sleep and spend far too much time every day reminding me that Food O'clock is almost here, and in spite of the number of piles of cold yak I've stepped in, life is definitely better with them in it.
♦ Reasonable health. I know I will never be at the pinnacle, but I'm damned thankful that all my issues are pretty much manageable.
♦ That I can try, and not be afraid of failing. And I can do that because of everything listed above, because my friends and family will catch me when I fall, or help me get up and dust off, and then cheer me along when I try again.
♦ And the ones who take care of me when I am giving things a try...yeah, so very thankful.
♦ And DKM, I am very, very thankful you don't shout at me when I'm in the passenger seat squealing because WE ARE GOING TO DIE! and THAT CAR IS GOING TO HIT US! and I'm really thankful you haven't hit me yet. ;)
I could go on. And on and on and on. I am honestly thankful for all these things and more every day. Life is good; the people in mine are better.
Well, FB (since this will pop up over there :::waves at my FB peeps::: ) the things I'm thankful for today are the things I am thankful for every day. You never ask any other time. What's up with that, FB? Is it that you don't really care? Hm?
But... I am thankful. Very thankful. I have too many things to be thankful about to list, but I can try to hit the highlights.
♦ I have a kick-ass family. I would twist your nipples and make you cry like a little girl for my family. I have the most spiffy Spouse Thingy, a frakking fantastic son, wicked awesome sisters, amazing nieces and nephews, and I hit the in-law lottery several times.
♦ Hell yeah. You would be so lucky to have my mother-in-law.
♦ I am especially thankful that my son has found such a wonderful, amazing woman, and that she wants to spend the rest of her life with him. She's bringing a level of class to this family that is sorely needed. (Either than or we're bringing the total opposite to hers, but hey, things balance out.) She brings out in him so much of what we always hoped for: he's always been a good man, but with her, he's a Good Man.
♦ My friends. I have the best circle of friends. And it's an eclectic circle of friends, from cat people to writer people to my tough-as-nails pink people. They're spread out all over the world and while I might not see them often, they are part of the glue that holds me together.
♦ All that pink stuff...while on the surface it's all about finding the cure, doing what little we can to make a difference, that pink stuff has given me focus and a drive to better myself so that I can participate. By taking this year to not walk, I realize how very much it matters to me. The people I've met because of it are people I have come to love, especially my team mates. I truly love the Pink Slips, Rock the Pink, Blogging Babes for Boobies, the people I've crewed with... I will rock my Pink Slips t-shirt until it falls apart.
♦ Other peoples' patience. I know I am not the easiest person to be friends with, because you never know when my crap is going to float to the service and throw a wrench in things. The patience of others has made it possible for me to feel all right about signing up for things and giving them a try.
♦ The furballs. Even though they seem to not want me to sleep and spend far too much time every day reminding me that Food O'clock is almost here, and in spite of the number of piles of cold yak I've stepped in, life is definitely better with them in it.
♦ Reasonable health. I know I will never be at the pinnacle, but I'm damned thankful that all my issues are pretty much manageable.
♦ That I can try, and not be afraid of failing. And I can do that because of everything listed above, because my friends and family will catch me when I fall, or help me get up and dust off, and then cheer me along when I try again.
♦ And the ones who take care of me when I am giving things a try...yeah, so very thankful.
♦ And DKM, I am very, very thankful you don't shout at me when I'm in the passenger seat squealing because WE ARE GOING TO DIE! and THAT CAR IS GOING TO HIT US! and I'm really thankful you haven't hit me yet. ;)
I could go on. And on and on and on. I am honestly thankful for all these things and more every day. Life is good; the people in mine are better.
 |
| He's thankful for today's turkey, and the nice, long nap he can now have. |
Sunday
22 November 2015
Odds n Endz #974,194,194,555.666
♦ I’m sitting in Starbucks, with every intention to make some
headway on a manuscript that was begun 2 years ago but barely outlined. My
brain is not engaging because 1) this is the first caffeine I’ve had today and
2) somewhere in the vicinity of my table is a (presumable) woman who apparently bathed in a
giant vat of perfume today, and it’s making my head pound….and the inability to
breathe will surely follow.
♦ Seriously, why do people feel the need for perfume? It
rarely smells good and too many other people have airway issues because of it. Just
freaking take a shower, use a nice mildly scented soap, and call it a day. No
one really needs to smell like anything other than their own self.
♦ Why, yes, right now I do feel a little grouchy, why do you
ask?
♦ After just a year and 4 months, not long after the warranty
expired, my laptop croaked. I liked that laptop. I am not happy. I replaced it
with a Surface Pro tablet, reasoning that it runs all the software I need, but
I didn’t stop to consider its size. I have 54-year-old eyes; I probably should
have just gotten another big-assed laptop.
♦ I will suffer before giving up, though. It will work one way or the other.
♦ Anyone got a head-mounted, face sized magnifying glass? That
might work.
♦ Ok, I am no longer sitting in Starbucks. I am at home, at my
desk, where I can breathe without coughing. And where I have Max tail flicking
at my face.
♦ This is almost as annoying as the perfume, though perhaps
quite a bit less in the way of potentially deadly.
♦ I stopped at the grocery store on my way home. Hungry. Yeah,
you can guess how that went…
♦ I didn’t want to stick with the diet, anyway.
♦ And on that front…I have reached the pinnacle of a great big
old pile of frustration. I eat well, I watch my caloric intake pretty closely.
I move, I sweat, I burn calories. But my weight loss has stalled and I haven’t
lost a damn thing since August. I honestly thought that at this point I would
be much closer to goal, but I’m still 50 pounds from it.
♦ I know what the answer is: either move more or eat less.
Since I don’t want to be a giant mass of unhappy and starving, I refuse to eat
less. I’m at 1300-1500 calories a day as it is. So I need to get off my ass
even more. And that makes me unhappy, too.
♦ Well, unhappy other than the goals ahead. I registered for
the Hot Chocolate 15K in San Francisco in January (which was, in hindsight, a
mistake, seeing as how I will be nowhere near the pace needed and I should
have gone for the 5K) and there’s the Pixie Dust Challenge in May.
♦ I want the shiny medals. Seriously. Weight loss and better
health? Meh. Shiny medals? Hell yeah.
♦ I never said I was mature.
 |
| For the hell of...Buddah, looking quite annoyed with me. |
Wednesday
18 November 2015
Oy.
The day after the 10K I got on the scale, expecting a jump, because I do tend to hold onto quite a bit of water after adding new exercise, and a little extra after pushing myself. I normally end a 3 Day about 6 pounds heavier, and it's gone within a week. Sunday I was 4 pounds higher than Saturday, and thought nothing of it.
Same thing Monday.
And Tuesday.
When it was still up today, and by the same amount, I was more than a little annoyed. I can feel it, the bloating in my arms and legs, puffy feet that barely fit into my shoes, the right side of my face first thing in the morning. I hadn't expected it to hang around this long; it was just a couple of hours on one day, not slogging through 60 miles in three.
I also hadn't expected the level of soreness I experienced on Sunday. I could barely move, but I mocked myself because it was actually pretty funny and I knew it wouldn't last. Monday it hurt about 75% less, and yesterday only a little. Today, there's just a hint of ouchiness in my my hips and, oddly, my upper arms. I had hoped the water retention would whoosh away with the pain.
"Well, yeah, it'll take you longer," the Spouse Thingy said at dinner tonight. "You have no growth hormone. There's nothing there for muscle repair. It will take you longer."
I had forgotten, really. When I did the first 3 Day I was still on daily HGH shots; now it's just left to time, and all those micro-tears in my muscles have to repair without the aid of growth hormone.
So, I can deal with it. I *know* that it's water weight because I haven't been pigging out, and it's a self-correcting problem. So tomorrow we're heading up to Old Sac and checking out the other end of the river walk path, and I'm going to push myself a little bit, walking fast after warming up, and adding some slow jogging if I can, until I feel like I need to stop.
I really want to make this work. I don't ever have to be the fastest, but at some point I want to be a runner.
And anyone who knows what I used to think about running is probably sitting there slack-jawed right now.
Yeah, I didn't get it. I think I do now.
Plus, runners get shiny medals every now and then. I like the shiny medals.
The day after the 10K I got on the scale, expecting a jump, because I do tend to hold onto quite a bit of water after adding new exercise, and a little extra after pushing myself. I normally end a 3 Day about 6 pounds heavier, and it's gone within a week. Sunday I was 4 pounds higher than Saturday, and thought nothing of it.
Same thing Monday.
And Tuesday.
I also hadn't expected the level of soreness I experienced on Sunday. I could barely move, but I mocked myself because it was actually pretty funny and I knew it wouldn't last. Monday it hurt about 75% less, and yesterday only a little. Today, there's just a hint of ouchiness in my my hips and, oddly, my upper arms. I had hoped the water retention would whoosh away with the pain.
"Well, yeah, it'll take you longer," the Spouse Thingy said at dinner tonight. "You have no growth hormone. There's nothing there for muscle repair. It will take you longer."
I had forgotten, really. When I did the first 3 Day I was still on daily HGH shots; now it's just left to time, and all those micro-tears in my muscles have to repair without the aid of growth hormone.
So, I can deal with it. I *know* that it's water weight because I haven't been pigging out, and it's a self-correcting problem. So tomorrow we're heading up to Old Sac and checking out the other end of the river walk path, and I'm going to push myself a little bit, walking fast after warming up, and adding some slow jogging if I can, until I feel like I need to stop.
I really want to make this work. I don't ever have to be the fastest, but at some point I want to be a runner.
And anyone who knows what I used to think about running is probably sitting there slack-jawed right now.
Yeah, I didn't get it. I think I do now.
Plus, runners get shiny medals every now and then. I like the shiny medals.
Sunday
15 November 2015
 |
| Before the start... me, Emi, and Amanda; Photo by DKM |
It was a beautiful day; chilly when I left the house but already in the high 50s by the time I was standing here, at the start. And the start gate framed the Tower Bridge nicely; I've driven over that bridge dozens of times, but on this day I was going to get to walk over it, right down the middle, and honestly...that was kind of cool.
Aside from not training for this, I made a couple of mistakes. I couldn't eat beforehand--partly because it was just too early for me to get any food down, partly because I was actually a tiny bit nervous--and I lost my water bottle before we even got started. The water bottle wasn't an issue so much as it was a worry, because there were 4 aid stations along the way where water and Powerade were available. My real issue was that, not having eaten, I forgot to stick a roll of Lifesavers in my waist pack, and just before the 2nd aid station, maybe a quarter mile, I realized I was feeling nauseated and dizzy.
My blood sugar was tanking. Not having candy on me was probably the worst thing I could have done. But, I made it to the station, where there was cake.
 |
| photo by DKM |
Well, "took off" is relative; I was not speedy even though I was bettering my usual pace, and I was getting passed...a lot. Honestly did not care, as long as I wasn't last. And I don't even know why I cared about not being last.
I slowed down some after mile 3 and started feeling blisters forming around mile 4, but none of that was much of an issue. The route was beautiful, taking us down the river and through part of downtown, including a stretch up Capitol Mall which was an incredible view. If I could have stopped for a picture, I would have, but at that point I knew if I stopped I wouldn't get started again. I slowed down enough to grab another piece of cake (we're talking one-bite sized pieces...I didn't really want it but wasn't chancing another drop in blood sugar) and Powerade, and headed for the final stretch.
My main goal was to finish 10K in under two hours. My typical walking pace has been 20 min/mile, and all I really wanted was to better that.
My pace...17:14 min/mile.
I was one of the last hundred fifty people, I think, but I am not unhappy about that. Hell, I'm stoked. It gives me a really good idea of what I need to do to get ready for Tinkerbell, and in spite of how freaking sore I am today, I had a fantastic time. All the swimming was terrific for my cardio; my feet took a beating for lack of training, but I was never winded not felt like my HR was too high.
So. Next goal is a 15K in San Francisco on January 10; it has a pace requirement of 15min/mile and while I'm not counting on being able to do that and thusly not getting the shiny medal at the end, it's another test. If I know I have to *really* train for that, I will.
And who knows? I sure as hell didn't think I'd do any better than 18-19 minutes for the Beat The Blerch.
 |
| Photo by DKM |
Thursday
12 November 2015
But yeah...right after the second new tattoo, I was going to really get to training. For reals.
Somewhere around week 2 of the healing process, I had a thought: 6 miles is no big deal, distance-wise. It's the time it takes, and I wanted to shave time off my minutes-per-mile pace. But what is my current mpm? It used to be 20, but that was at an in-no-hurry pace, and I know I ca go faster than that.
My ultimate goal, one I need to achieve before next May, is to be able to manage less than 16 minutes per mile. For that, I will train my asterisk off, because I committed to the Pixie Dust Challenge, and I want that freaking medal. I am motivated by shiny things.
The thing is, I can do the Blerch 10K in time to finish; it's a fun run, and there are 4 hours to complete it. At my leisurely pace I can do that in 2, so there's been no urgency to train hard to get the medal I know I'll get anyway.
But.
This is also the chance for me to push myself and see what my pre-training pace is under event conditions. Yes, I can walk at a good clip, but that's around town, with nothing dangling in front of me, no expectations other than not peeing myself because I can't get to a restroom fast enough and not dying. I learned from the 3 Day that what you do when you're training by yourself, and what you do when in the middle of it are, can be two different things.
So I didn't do anything special to get ready for this 10K. I want to see what my pace is when I want
something (besides cake) at the end. And it will mark the official start to my 10K + HM training.
So. I did not train for the Blerch but I will not die...and PARTY IN ANAHEIM IN MAY! I'll be a zombie on race days, but we're staying a couple extra days, so...if you're there, LET'S JAM FOOD IN OUR FACES TOGETHER!!!
Today's lesson: don't try to write a blog post while texting with someone...soooo much backspacing was needed here...
Saturday
7 November 2015
Odds N Ends #805,043,019.z.2.wtf
♦ I have been getting up at normal-people hours lately. While I enjoy the time to relax before having to get up and get things done, there are a couple of negatives. Like, it’s too cold to go for an early bike ride. It feels like a *really* long time between breakfast and lunch. And I still have trouble getting to sleep early enough. I’m not sure how you normal people manage.
♦ Though it’s over a year away, the plan for the 2016 walk is to do it in San Diego. Most of the team is going to Atlanta, but I won’t know until May if my doc will be comfortable with me making a flight like that on top of the physical exertion. I can handle one hour in a plane or if push comes to shove, drive down there.
♦ The Spouse Thingy is going to sign up for medical crew; he could walk it, but the truth is they would need him more as crew than as a walker, since they’re always looking for medical people.
♦ I have a 10K next weekend. I have not trained. It will not be pretty. But…at the end there’s cake. I don’t know if they have sweepers but if they do and I wind up being swept, oh well. But I’ll get cake at the end, and that’s what matters, right?
♦ Hell, I can do a 10K if I walk it all. It’s a matter of how much time is allowed. I have no clue.
♦ Email: I was in San Francisco once and I didn’t call you. Didn’t even think of it. But you were in Ohio at the time. That still counts, right? Of course it does. LOL
♦ Email: Are you telling me that if you went to San Antonio to see the Alamo you wouldn’t see your sisters? No…the only reason I would go to San Antonio would be to see my sisters. It’s a damned goal. But I am telling you if they were in SF and didn’t have time or had other reasons, I’d be cool with it. (And no, that did not come from any of my sisters, just someone who enjoys poking the bear.)
♦ Girl Scout cookies are going up to $5 a box. They’re good but not five dollar good.
♦ I am ready to start Christmas shopping. No clue what I’m getting anyone, but I’m ready to go wander aimlessly around the stores. And Amazon. Lots and lots of Amazon browsing.
♦ I should get some work done first. I still haven’t formatted Max’s newest book for e-readers…
♦ I have been getting up at normal-people hours lately. While I enjoy the time to relax before having to get up and get things done, there are a couple of negatives. Like, it’s too cold to go for an early bike ride. It feels like a *really* long time between breakfast and lunch. And I still have trouble getting to sleep early enough. I’m not sure how you normal people manage.
♦ Though it’s over a year away, the plan for the 2016 walk is to do it in San Diego. Most of the team is going to Atlanta, but I won’t know until May if my doc will be comfortable with me making a flight like that on top of the physical exertion. I can handle one hour in a plane or if push comes to shove, drive down there.
♦ The Spouse Thingy is going to sign up for medical crew; he could walk it, but the truth is they would need him more as crew than as a walker, since they’re always looking for medical people.
♦ I have a 10K next weekend. I have not trained. It will not be pretty. But…at the end there’s cake. I don’t know if they have sweepers but if they do and I wind up being swept, oh well. But I’ll get cake at the end, and that’s what matters, right?
♦ Hell, I can do a 10K if I walk it all. It’s a matter of how much time is allowed. I have no clue.
♦ Email: I was in San Francisco once and I didn’t call you. Didn’t even think of it. But you were in Ohio at the time. That still counts, right? Of course it does. LOL
♦ Email: Are you telling me that if you went to San Antonio to see the Alamo you wouldn’t see your sisters? No…the only reason I would go to San Antonio would be to see my sisters. It’s a damned goal. But I am telling you if they were in SF and didn’t have time or had other reasons, I’d be cool with it. (And no, that did not come from any of my sisters, just someone who enjoys poking the bear.)
♦ Girl Scout cookies are going up to $5 a box. They’re good but not five dollar good.
♦ I am ready to start Christmas shopping. No clue what I’m getting anyone, but I’m ready to go wander aimlessly around the stores. And Amazon. Lots and lots of Amazon browsing.
♦ I should get some work done first. I still haven’t formatted Max’s newest book for e-readers…
Friday
6 November 2015
Ok, this may be a new record for the longest I’ve gone without blogging. But I’ve been a little busy, what with having coloring books to play with, and a new scooter to ride all over the place (srsly…I had the BMW for a year and only put 590 miles on it, including the 45 mile trip to the dealer to trade it in; the MP3 has 800 miles almost, and that’s with having left it at the dealership for a couple weeks waiting for a new horn switch) and the new season of Doctor Who in full swing. And there’s the whole getting Max’s new book finished.
That’s all apropos to nothing. I went to Starbucks today to so something other than write and edit and write more. I just wanted to ride my scooter over there, have some tea and play online, with no real objective in mind.
While I sat there with my iced tea and coffee cake, I started getting texts from a couple of friends. I felt like I was about 3 levels of normal, sitting there like everyone else with my face plastered to my phone. Well, maybe 4 levels, because I did have a Macbook Air in front of me, and it seems to be the required form of computer in the ‘Bux.
One friend started off with a plethora of apologies: she’s going to be in San Francisco next week, with her husband and 5 of their 6 kids, and she wanted to see me, but… no time. They’ve got only 3 days and each of the kids has been promised they could pick something for the entire family, and…and…and…
The gist? She was worried that I would be offended.
No. I am not. I don’t think she believed me, but I truly am not.
Look—and this goes for everyone—your vacation is just that. Yours. You do not owe it to anyone to change your plans, or create new plans, just because there’s someone in the geographical vicinity who may or may not have time to see you. I’ve been caught in those cross hairs and it’s horribly uncomfortable; just because you’re there and you might want to see someone...that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea or even possible.
We’ve made plans to go somewhere before where there are nearly 20 people—some who are family, some who are friends—who would expect to join us. The sheer exhaustion of that many people, those expectations, and the fallout have made us just not go. Because really, whom do you disappoint? With whom do you make plans? Whom do you not? Who gets told they don’t make the cut? Who do you piss off? Who will understand and who will trash talk you because clearly you’re able to be there so why are you not visiting?
It’s never simple. The things that are genuine reasons can be brushed off by others as mere excuses, and it just turns sour. Hearing “but we’re family” from someone can be irritating as hell, because they’re not stopping to consider that they’re not the only family in that area harboring the same expectations, and there are only so many hours in the day and there’s no kind way to see one side of the family and not the other.
At some point it stops being a vacation and turns into visiting people. Nothing wrong with the latter if that’s what you wanted all along, but if your goal was the former and you don’t get that much needed you-time to do any of the vacationy things you planned simply because you know there will be repercussions? It sucks.
So no…I will not be offended if you’re in San Francisco or Sacramento or three streets over and don’t have time to see me. No, it doesn’t matter who you are or how much I would have liked to spend some time with you. I do understand.
I damn well better understand, seeing as how I’m the Queen of pissing people off by not visiting when I’m in the area. I hate feeling like I’m walking on eggshells just because I want to go somewhere but also know my own limitations and my need to crash at unexpected intervals. But, I always feel that way. We go, and I seriously worry about it half the time we’re there. Who’s mad at me? How bad will the fallout be? Who just doesn’t get it? Who thinks I’m faking? Who’s going to throw the well you did that so why didn’t you do this? thing in my face?
(and in seeing how hard I’m pounding the keyboard, apparently this is a spot more sore with me than I realized…)
The friend who was so worried? I know she would like to see me. I would like to see her. But this is her vacation and her kids deserve the time they’ve been promised, and she doesn’t need to worry about perceived expectations and the possible hurt feelings that come with not meeting those expectations.
Go forth and have fun, people. If your friends and family don’t or won’t even try to understand…it’s their problem.
That’s all apropos to nothing. I went to Starbucks today to so something other than write and edit and write more. I just wanted to ride my scooter over there, have some tea and play online, with no real objective in mind.
While I sat there with my iced tea and coffee cake, I started getting texts from a couple of friends. I felt like I was about 3 levels of normal, sitting there like everyone else with my face plastered to my phone. Well, maybe 4 levels, because I did have a Macbook Air in front of me, and it seems to be the required form of computer in the ‘Bux.
One friend started off with a plethora of apologies: she’s going to be in San Francisco next week, with her husband and 5 of their 6 kids, and she wanted to see me, but… no time. They’ve got only 3 days and each of the kids has been promised they could pick something for the entire family, and…and…and…
The gist? She was worried that I would be offended.
No. I am not. I don’t think she believed me, but I truly am not.
Look—and this goes for everyone—your vacation is just that. Yours. You do not owe it to anyone to change your plans, or create new plans, just because there’s someone in the geographical vicinity who may or may not have time to see you. I’ve been caught in those cross hairs and it’s horribly uncomfortable; just because you’re there and you might want to see someone...that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea or even possible.
We’ve made plans to go somewhere before where there are nearly 20 people—some who are family, some who are friends—who would expect to join us. The sheer exhaustion of that many people, those expectations, and the fallout have made us just not go. Because really, whom do you disappoint? With whom do you make plans? Whom do you not? Who gets told they don’t make the cut? Who do you piss off? Who will understand and who will trash talk you because clearly you’re able to be there so why are you not visiting?
It’s never simple. The things that are genuine reasons can be brushed off by others as mere excuses, and it just turns sour. Hearing “but we’re family” from someone can be irritating as hell, because they’re not stopping to consider that they’re not the only family in that area harboring the same expectations, and there are only so many hours in the day and there’s no kind way to see one side of the family and not the other.
At some point it stops being a vacation and turns into visiting people. Nothing wrong with the latter if that’s what you wanted all along, but if your goal was the former and you don’t get that much needed you-time to do any of the vacationy things you planned simply because you know there will be repercussions? It sucks.
So no…I will not be offended if you’re in San Francisco or Sacramento or three streets over and don’t have time to see me. No, it doesn’t matter who you are or how much I would have liked to spend some time with you. I do understand.
I damn well better understand, seeing as how I’m the Queen of pissing people off by not visiting when I’m in the area. I hate feeling like I’m walking on eggshells just because I want to go somewhere but also know my own limitations and my need to crash at unexpected intervals. But, I always feel that way. We go, and I seriously worry about it half the time we’re there. Who’s mad at me? How bad will the fallout be? Who just doesn’t get it? Who thinks I’m faking? Who’s going to throw the well you did that so why didn’t you do this? thing in my face?
(and in seeing how hard I’m pounding the keyboard, apparently this is a spot more sore with me than I realized…)
The friend who was so worried? I know she would like to see me. I would like to see her. But this is her vacation and her kids deserve the time they’ve been promised, and she doesn’t need to worry about perceived expectations and the possible hurt feelings that come with not meeting those expectations.
Go forth and have fun, people. If your friends and family don’t or won’t even try to understand…it’s their problem.
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