Holi-Blog: Blue and Green

I'm sorry this blog is so confusing. I'm kind of in a rush, holiday style.
I've always been real nostalgic during the holidays. Christmas, in particular, makes me feel warm and makes me bake (more than the usual) cookies and makes me love loving. I love the tiny glow of tiny lights and the fresh smell of artificial balsam and even the uneven cuts of wrap.
I especially love the color blue at Christmas. Partly because blue is really unexpected during the holiday season. Whether there are sparkles in the Christmas blue or not, it certainly does shine differently than during the rest of the year. Especially when that blue is smartly interrupted by cartooned Santa's and Frosty's or, dressed handsomely with the classic wreath, soft red velvet bows, and vintage-y, cheesy, Kinkade-y scenes with horses, cabins, perennially fresh trees, carols, soft glows and, ghosts. I love all that nonsense.

I also totally love my version of mediocrity, especially at Christmastime (okay, I'm of nihilist persuasion). I love the blue, especially because it secularizes everything in one fell swoop. Now that I'm thinking of it, I haven't time for exaggerated emotions or schmaltzy overtures and epilogues to my everyday. It's okay to be mediocre. So what if Christmas for me is all about the presents? Christmas cards? And, divvying up evenly on behalf of Santa? Then kicking back with some egg nog and roasting chestnuts?
Unexpected segue:
Having opportunities to know you (the many you(s) is really the important measurable gift I find under the all-year-round-tree
Did you know I have a pear tree in my yard? It's green and, I bought it, while green on Earth Day just two years ago. Green things [that grow, or so they claim], requiring watering regularly and the occasional fertilizer stake, are rarely successful for me!
But, there is satisfaction found in stuff that grows. There is a finesse, too, a know-how, a delicacy needed to observe the difference between that thing which grows because it can and the one that grows because it wants--green and otherwise.
Oh crap... now I've done it:
Here's the thing, the more blue you have around at Christmas, the better, and, I don't mean the little pink trees (though, they are fabulous!).
We all know Christmas is in an open relationship with the mediocre, and, this is good news for some of us.

So, remember to cruise through Christmas, right into New Year's where some important stuff can happen if you want it to. Deciding not to be mediocre (or, how we display our varying levels of mediocrity) has nothing to do how we deck the halls; it's really about who and how we are each and everyday. Being brave and looking forward to New Year's with an awakened commitment to self and loved ones, reinventing, rediscovery and reworking, moving to the core of a new sense of humanness, and, loving/being in a better, more effective way, is the right answer for the mediocre.

Happy New Year to you!
Love,
Sarah

The Night I Ran Wicked Fast

This post is welling up inside me. I've been waiting patiently for a subject to hit me just right. THE boots, I thought, had it all. I should probably wear THE boots while throwing down the lines in this post, but I'm too tired to get up.
It took all day to run on December 8. A quick and casual change in the schedule had me pacing the floors for hours and, ahem, scrubbing the baseboards? This is a job that is not sexy. Imagine choosing to clean something that no one will ever know got cleaned? What is the reward in that? Well, for starters, I knew I cleaned it and I felt good about it; the nice thing about a blog is having a format where I can mention the things I've cleaned and get a little recognition. So there you go, I cleaned the baseboards in my kitchen.
That day I got a lot of baking done and was readying the house for company. I played with legos in a way that I like to occasionally. I prefer my brother's legos from the 80's. The pieces are mostly gray and spacey-with that intergalactic ring and speed of light and shit. I'm also partial to wheels. I have constructed some of the most intense lunar rovers complete with key boards, missile launchers (although, at once, we come in peace), steering wheels, windows, stealth windshields and roof shingles that came from the farm set.
I knew I could head out on my run at 4:30. Around 3 pm, I started getting ready. This is not typical to have this much time. I was not rushed but I thought about running the run....and didn't think about route or distance--no specifics. I was actually distracted by the fact that it was going to be dark and I needed to be prepared in two ways: 1, dressed for chillier temps and 2, lit up, easily detected, reflecting, etc.
The light I chose, I bought at a Dollar Tree on Hawthorne Blvd. Back in August while in Oregon for the Hood To Coast Relay. This was actually the last time I used it for the purpose of running. Levi likes to take it and shine it at Elijah and say, "I'm gonna punch you in your ffface". He's just trying to survive.
And I wear my compression socks on my arms. This is excellent!
I like the fact that my arms can be warm without stacking another layer on my core.
On goes the arm band and i pod. In goes the braid, uniform and snug. And I exit an excited, loud and noisy household ready for the reprieve. I head out left at the end of my dirt road and see that traffic is backed up to the traffic circle. Bonus!
I get to chase cars/race cars!
When I'm hauling close to them, the cars will purposefully drive along side to clock, it's kind of fun for me so I gave them something to shoot for...this was when my fastest mile was achieved.
I love approaching the outside turn of the traffic circle. I stay close to the line and it's raked slightly downward so I can accelerate and move quickly through. It's almost like going through a check point or running a track...I need to get through it quickly so I don't cause any problems for motorists. I know running into the circle is not ideal, but it's part of a killer loop and I'm only in it for an 1/8 of it.
But I was off to a great start. Sometimes, on certain days, running is for me, then, there are other days when running is not for me. I wonder if that half marathon was not the right day for me to run. That almost every other day could've been better for some reason.
Once I was told that racing ruins everything about running...this is probably likely. But I love running too much not to try racing occasionally.
I waited ALL day to run. When I got into traffic and moved fast through the circle, I started a climb that goes on for about 3 tenths of a mile. I climbed and climbed without dropping pace or breathing quickly. At the top of the hill I turned right onto a dirt road...quiet. And I kept the pace steadily. Sometimes I'm just so happy to be out of the house, away from all the chaos of raising 2 boys, who are hardcore boys (will the fighting ever end?).
Someone once told me if you raise 3 boys, you can do anything. I'm hoping some of that can be reserved me as I am raising 2 boys. Oh, and I'm not going to have a third boy just so I can qualify for the 'anything'. I'll gladly do 33.333% less of 'anything', because I don't think I could handle 1/3 more noise, dirt and gas in the house.
Anyway, the run that night was speedy overall, most likely because I was itchy from being cooped up all day and because I thought about it all day, and because I am so grateful for my time alone and because I love my athletic self that I'm amazed daily and, finally, I wanted to get home and out of the dark as fast as possible.

Sarah Eaton ran 6.5 mi PACE 7:20 SOTD Ramble On - Led Zeppelin gotta find the queen of all my dreams
New PR for the mile: 6:45

The Importance of Fantastic Boots

Today, while shopping, I found THE boots.
Brown? yes. Wooden heel? yes. Slouch? yes! Not too ornamental? yes. Good price? yes! Smart looking? Yes! Yes! Yes!
Want to know how I knew they were THE boots? First, my heart rate went up a bit when I saw them.
Easily this can be measured. It's not something I'm making up about our physical response to something that strikes us just that right way.
Second, as I scanned the boxes for the right size, I felt a really warm surge come over me, like that moment just before you sip the second cocktail and everything in your body just smooths over.
Yeah, so those boots were in my size.
I was psyched when I opened the box and discovered that the insides of the box remained undisturbed since leaving the manufacturer. Even more awesome!
I lifted the paper and saw the left boot and knew right away the task that awaited me. I needed to extract the cardboard stabilizers from inside.
Being versed in the process of readying a new boot, I reached deep inside and drew out the tissue used to stabilize the toe, as well. All systems go!
Grasping the boot by the top of the shaft, I slid my foot in. At any moment this attempt can be sabotaged by an ill cut waist of the boot that prevents the glide of my foot. BUT it went easily, unlike the first pair. Whew!
The first pair was an ankle boot with a two inch heel. That boot really lacked at the waist and so while trying to get my foot in there, because what was intended to be one fluid motion was sadly brought to an abrupt halt, I lost my balance, hobbled, bounced, jumped a bit, kickin' up dust and causing a silly scene (and causing my toddler to laugh at me, which is hardly ever a good thing).
BUT something should be said about the ease of putting on a boot...this could be hot or not hot. The better fitting boot can be determined as to how good you look getting it on. I need practice. I will work on this over the next couple of weeks. This is not unlike perfecting any craft like folding fancy napkins for the 5 star restaurant (the candle roll or the fan fold) or painting using stencils or making a jig saw an extension of your hands, or perhaps it is more similar to tying a necktie for your lover.
I couldn't get out of the store fast enough. I wanted to go home and wear them while I baked a batch of cookies or watched my bread dough rise. See? Sometimes the right boots can make even your cookies taste better!

To wrap this nonsense up here is a fun little quote by a woman whose book I think I should read titled The Female Eunuch:

“Yet if a woman never lets herself go,
how will she ever know how far she might have got?
If she never takes off her high-heeled shoes,
how will she ever know how far she could walk or how fast she could run?”
Germaine Greer

Gobble It Up--Don't REad!!

It's a cryin' shame that I have to write this without committing to a larger point to umbrella a smaller one. My technique is becoming quite predictable. Though a smattering of stuff could disrupt the norm, thus I must submit to a stream.

1. Curt and I are embarking into the holiday season with a toddler who seems to 'get it" and who happens to really dig Santa (which is entirely foreign to us as Eli has been known to hide behind the fake trees in the mall to avoid eye contact with the big man). And when we saw him the other day in Portsmouth, NH at the Urban Forestry Center, Levi immediately got to work on getting out "I want a Nerf Blaster". Now that seems like a fairly simple task but LEvi gets to stuttering when he's amped up and anxious and feels like Elijah might start bullying him for air time.
But he got it out and between Mr. and Mrs. Claus and the list of kids from NH, they were able to determine that both my boys are on the 'Good List". Which made me deeply question the Claus' criteria for all things good and bad, not the philosophical juxtoposition between good vs. evil-though I often have to play that card at home to settle disputes amongst the natives, but since nothing is purely BAD I knew my guys would be on some list higher up on the ranking...thus siding with Eli that indeed Sir and Ms. Claus tell all the children the same thing about their presence on the good list. I'm thankful that I don't have to maintain the facade with at least one of my children, in due time Levi will also see through or past the pillowed tummy.

2. When J. Lo fell at the AMA's, I laughed pretty hard.

3. I think that Vodka has a psychedelic property to it but not without the alignment of certain other things, like food in the stomach, rest, weight, experience and hydration efforts.

4. Lady GaGa is pretty much a mess.

41/2. Alicia Keys and Mary J. Blige did well.

5. I love that Robin Quivers has a super huge wine cellar containing many varietals, thousands of bottles.

6. Does anyone need 32 ounces of Nutella? Ever?

7. If you're fat, you should be equally concerned about your aesthetic and your aes (ass). Don't be mad, I used to weigh 298 pounds.

8. It is with great sadness that I report the origin of my achilles injury. Turns out pretty pink 769's are the culprit. MOst likely
I did a reckless job sizing and fitting myself. I am back to my Nike's (with minimal overlay's, low ankle rise, and exceptional cushion, they are epic and my achilles has been on the mend while at work) Praise be.

9. To earn my yams, I shall run 20 miles on Thanksgiving morning. Sadly I'll miss the highly anticipated, over the top, energetic three hour commercial ad also known as the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Too bad.

10. Watch out for people who piss in your ears.

11. Jermaine, Jaffar, JerMajesty and Tim. It's okay to wonder about that.

12. Phish in Albany and Portland, here we come!!!!!! and possibly Phila tomorrow!!!

Happy Thanksgiving!!!!!!! Happy Birthday, Becca!!!!
Love,
Sarah

10 days/100 miles DAY TEN

Written Saturday PM:

I'm glad I'm done.
I'm glad I got a text from Toni this morning wanting to run the last 10 with me.
I'm glad she took me a different route. I ran the same route 9 times and ended up getting the scotch tape. There is something to doing a repeat route 9 days in a row. I ended up feeling like an automaton. But I think that was the whole idea of being on repeat and taking out the romance and reducing the mission to an effort. It was hard to watch the love for the sport dwindle to a series of motions but it was seriously necessary.
I'm glad I suffered through the achilles. Overuse is stupid. And overuse should never make you stop. Neglect can come in two forms, one is overuse and the other, underuse.
I'm glad my injury is due to overuse, though, because
I'm glad I don't have an injury caused by underuse. Underuse is stupid. Underuse will kill you. Disease is the voice of underuse.
I'm glad I'm done.

The biggest thing I take from this experiment is just knowing that I am really fit. And, yes, I believe my fitness has increased during these 10 days. I think I could run additional mileage on a single run with a day in between for recovery. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not worried about losing fitness as I address this tendon.
I am planning on making Thanksgiving morning my next long run, 20 miles to mom and dads before the heady meal.
Exhausted is how I feel. I've drifted off yesterday and today and I NEVER nap. And especially today, I cannot resist.
Baking a vegan carrot cake for my dad for his birthday. I will eat cake. And I will dance tonight. Today is a show day and all I want to do is dance. I'll run soon.
Thanks for reading! and for those of you out there who run, you know who you are, keep going!
Love,
Sarah

Bungee Cords, Banana PEels and Puke

In the title of this blog are just some examples of things I discover on the shoulder of the busier roads where I run. Please note that really none of these items are actually pleasant.
In fact, it is fair to say that I am sort of an authority on [all things worthy of the side of the road] 'side of the road' things (and I purposefully structured the sentence that way). I travel the roads frequently and pay a good amount of attention to things along my path and it is also fair to report that there is NOTHING pleasant on the side of the road, EVER. I have tried to keep track of some of the items to share with you, let's see: scotch tape (hardly used and I'm tempted to retrieve it with the holidays quickly approaching, but still, this is not pleasant), the innards of a pillow (looks more like dirty snow), empty and bent red bull cans, a paper market bag with a bottle of bleach sticking out of it, a halloween devils cape all mangled (like that devil might have lost a battle with something equal and opposite), a fun size Snickers bar that has been run over like 300 times, a empty GU package (oops, that's mine and I"ll get it tomorrow), a Wendy's bag wtih the contents strewn for 20 feet beyond it (french fry thingy, hamburger wrapper, soda cup, straw, lid, napkins, BBQ sauce and several (5) exploded ketchups), oh and there was the other battle lost between someone's egregious intoxication and finally succumbing to the inevitable purge (which no longer smells, but it has been driven through and tracked for a good 15 feet or so) that's about it, oh yeah there was this tiny chipmunk that has been run over so many times, it now resembles a slice of a medium sized garden tomato (i committed that to memory today so I wouldn't forget to tell you), and there is a single glove near campus and a single glove near the farm, though these would not make a set, they are both left handed (and one is blue).
So there you have it!
These are other examples of roadkill. I am fascinated by the real roadkill. But I am also finding this other kind of roadkill interesting. Sometimes, and only for a very few seconds, I consider what was happening at the time this kind of manmade roadkill occurred. Like take for instance the scotch tape. I mean, what the hell? The red bull can...this is not a mystery in the same way the scotch tape is a mystery. My initial thought was that the woman, that's right I assumed she was a female, was on her way to a party but running a tick late and she pulled off onto the shoulder. She stepped out of the driver's and moved quickly around the front of the car. She the opened the back seat passenger side and retrieved the gift and the wrap. Moving as fast as she could she creased the paper to tear (she forgot the scissors!) and started to fold and tape with moderate precision considering improper wrapping location and, sheeesh, if you don't have the right tools, you might as well go home, take off your party dress and devour a pint of Cherry Garcia. But not this girl; this girl is cool. She did what she could with what she had remembering the sentiment that it's the thought that matters and she tossed the gift on the front seat. Meanwhile, what she didn't know is that the tape had gotten stuck to the cuff of her pea coat and dangled there precariously and if you can imagine when she tossed the gift onto the front seat, it dropped or actually flew a bit and struck the guard rail behind her, to add insult to injury, a W. B. Mason truck happened to pass at the exact same moment making her unaware of the loss (and the littering).
Wow, telling that story kinda made me feel winded.
So probably you know what I've been doing. Toni and talked about a 100 mile ultra marathon and it is obvious that surviving mileage like that takes several weeks or even months actually. There is so much damage done to the muscles that recovery time is absolutely necessary (oh and the fastest guy can usually complete a race like that in 17+ hours or something) so that is a lot of joggin'. Compare that to what I'd like to run my marathon in (26.2 miles) and the time to qualify for Boston is like 3:40 roughly. So there it is. OK. Then we thought that spreading out 100 miles into 10 consecutive days is not as damaging as a 100 mile race. Now there you go, you have the skinny on the experiment. But I will say that there is damage. The overnight of rest doesn't do the trick. My knees are starting to get beat up and where the legs are connected and the groin? They're all set with the miles. I've got aches in my mid back and in my gut. My form is very conservative and is starting to go rigid a bit and I feel like I"m just trying to complete the effort. You know, the romance is gone. I go through the same thing with new songs I really love. If I love a song enough, I'll play it over and over again until I fully understand/get/dig/deconstruct every measure of it. And then I'm done. I've almost done that with running.

Here are my paces from the 8 days I've run 10 milers:

11-5: 8:24
11-6: 8:21---20 mile mark
11-7: 8:42
11-8: 8:35
11-9: 8:24----50 mile mark
11-10: 8:53
11-11: 8:19
11-12: 8:30----80 mile mark
11-13: 8:07----90 mile mark (just added)
11-14: 8:18----100 miles in 10 days.


It's clear that the mental stuff got to me on 11-10, I knew I was halfway and the thinking got heavy about the rest of the miles. I liken it to how I felt when I reached the half way point of my half marathon. I DON'T LIKE MID WAY POINTS. I'm going to have to work on that. BUt the pace was great on the 11th. Maybe I'll try and speed it up a bit tomorrow. I'm feeling fatigued, to be honest, and well, Ms. Achilles is behaving like a 3 year old. I hate that I feel tired. That's one of the reasons I wanted to test this out, see how far I can go and a long run one day is coming and then I will really know what I'm capable of. I am going to run to my mom's house on Thanksgiving. That is about 20 miles. BUt I think I'd like to run for maybe 4 or 5 hours and see what happens.
Does anyone want to do that with me? Seriously. Someone I know who lives around here needs to start running so we can do long runs together and some long races ... think about it.

Half Way: 50 Miles Done, 50 To Go

This is one of the hardest things I've done. Running 100 miles in 10 days with no days of rest. Just some time to recoup some strength overnight letting the muscles repair only slightly. Having completed half of this mission, the changes in my style of running are easily recognizable. Being that it's only day five, the lions share is ahead of me.
I love looking steady and controlled. I saw some college girls running today and that's great! you know, but their ponytails were swishing back and forth like a horse's tail on hot, dusty, especially buggy summer afternoon. Or, if you can imagine it for the brunette, it looked like she had a helicopter blade on the back of her head just flying around crazily like it may eventually be released by her scalp and come whizzing across the street, striking me and knocking me to the ground. I was relieved once we passed each other.
Such long shadows at 9 and 10 am. THe sun so low in the sky. 40-ish degrees is perfect running weather for tights and a long sleeve with a short sleeve over top and pink mittens and my pink doo rag to absorb the perspiration.
My left leg (which I'm in love with) is compensating for the misbehavior and "acting like a queen" attitude displayed by my R achilles tendon. OK ALREADY, I want to holler, YOU'VE MADE YOUR POINT. I can't do shit without these little lengths of material in my body being in good moods. It must be that time of the month for my achilles. OOPS, my bad, since there is no longer a diagnosis called tendonitis, we now have tendonosis and I'm getting yelled at by a Czech sports med guy over on the Running page on Facebook that I am rolling the dangerous dice with this injury.
I insist that I will run till I drop to my knees, losing the battle with this injury, testing my resolve and how long I can delude myself with this false sense of security or tolerate it or be bigger than it and braver than I've ever been or even slightly more stupid than letting go of the plane while every bit of instinct told me that I should do precisely the opposite from that or my hill opens and I can slide my fucked up tendon into a ski boot for a month or two and let it be.
I didn't want to let go of the plane. Even having a door open at 15,000 feet above the ground felt so wrong, so counter intuitive to anything I've known about me, the earth, the sky, having the heart of a bird but reconciling that daily with the inarguable tenacity of gravity and mass and a universe that embraces me each day but only for my overall lack of a carbon footprint.
For all intents and purposes, I flew that day. I had a brief argument with the tips of my fingers which were locked in a death grip above my head on the last bit of the plane's interior, that last bit was all that was keeping me from falling fast and hard toward earth.
The argument was brief and my fingers lost because there are times in your life where you just BREATHE in a big way and you just say FUCK IT and giving yourself fully to nothing familiar is the result ... goodbye plane. ANd there isn't anything as scary as that. It's a complete loss of control. It's totally graceful, romantic and merciless and I will never do it again so long as I live.
As we left the plane, the instructor guided our bodies upward so I could look into the sun falling backward to earth. I saw the plane above my head. The sensation was sickening. The plane vanished from above me like a magic trick. You know the kind. Where you think you know how they did that but it was a good magic trick so you don't really know and they'll never tell you because it's a keeper. He rolled me over now facing the direction of our fall and I saw the end of our flight (that would be earth) and I had to reorient myself while he drew my arms out straight, grasping my hands and holding them in front of me like I could have been super girl (with the cape and the sexy boots and that belt that, in my case, would double as a survival kit carrying dark chocolate, pink 452 lipstick, a clip for my hair and a Phish show with Giant Country Horns from 1989). With arms stretched, the speed was insane! He wrapped his legs around my legs and pulled them so I would stretch out long and lean like in an epic dive. I thought I was going to die and I said aloud but quietly, "Elijah Needs me". I could have died and I wouldn't have been surprised.
He then brought my arms back to my sides, keeping one arm around my waist he readied me into a feet first drop and in the next frame the chute was noisily unravelling with the pull of the release and our bodies went from about 120 mph to 10 mph, the straps around our chest and groin absorbing the throwing on of the brakes. Then everything went quiet.
"You OK?"
he asked. Indeed I was and this easy coasting to the ground is my reward for the insanity and depravity of the free fall.
I knew I was going be a better mother.
The ground came up to my feet not a moment other than what I was hoping for. It was awkward syncing up the steps with the instructor and we stumbled slightly but managed the ground. It almost felt like relearning. It didn't take long for me to realize I had forgotten a lot about what I thought I knew in those minutes. My most favorite philosopher taught me that traveling decenters a person opening up to allow for a spirit of new, an acceptance of otherness and a respect for difference. I should say that traveling through air does the same.
Day 6 tomorrow.
love,
Sarah

10 days/100 miles DAY THREE

Today was day 3 and I think I'll blog about this challenge occasionally.
The challenge 10 miles a day for 10 consecutive days. 30 miles done thus far.
When the door opened, the cold air hit me pretty good. I could only postpone this for so long; going out and getting this run started in this chilly weather (31 degrees is nothing, just wait till there are ice droplets on my eye lashes and my bandana freezes to my dread locks). Cold is going to take some getting used to. But whatev. So.
There is something organic going on with my posture and stride that I didn't anticipate, but now seems obvious. I'm a better runner.
During this challenge, I'm not concerned about paces because I am less interested in speed work and more in tuning my body and mind to a higher freq. of endurance. SO the organic aspect that I mentioned earlier has really nothing to do with my head, and that is the part I love the best.
I have a feeling, and I'll know more about it as I continue, that the body is built for running, I mean, what the hell are long legs for anyway, huh? AND, there is innate ability to reasonably conserve what's in the tank and run for a long time. The tank, however, needs to be able to take on calories and the mind needs to let the body do it's thing and if all that is synced up, then the running is easy.
My body hardly moves during the strides. My legs are working at a high level & efficiently though my upper body and arms are, while relaxed, quite motionless, actually I'll call it STEADY, considering the cardio activity I'm doing. I am not trying to do this. I feel like my body has adapted to this work load and wants to conserve because I rarely feed it and water it and it knows that. IF the body can be trained to go faster, than it can be trained to be minimally fed (during the run).
The body will do what it has to do to move down the road for as long as I need it to without bitching and requiring nourishment. My whole grains each evening provide the fuel.
To be sure, I'd take something with me if going longer than 10 miles, btw. I"m not trying to be sadistic or anything.
I eat some gel, whole grain bread with a nut butter and brown rice gel and drink some coffee and head out the door, this is plenty of fuel. Check it though: if I am able to strike a balance with my body between food and water and it running as efficiently as possible, than that is what is ultimate. Often if there is too much in my gut, It can be a bit of a downer and I don't like my thoughts to go to my gut, ever.
I have tendonitis in my R achilles tendon. This is SO lame. I massage it and ice it and put the ibuprophen gel on it and so forth, but i'm working with it. On day two I thought about how I birthed two children naturally, with no interventions, and I thought about nursing those boys and how the pain was so searing that I could taste metal, then I thought how I jumped out of an airplane (quite literally the scariest stupidest thing I've ever done), and then I thought about how I cracked my rib in the moguls last winter skiing and then continuing to run anyway. And I thought about how it sucks so much to hurt when all you want to do is breathe.
And actually sometimes it still hurts to breathe, but not because of the rib. Because sometimes my body wants to rebel against me and act like a queen who wants to rest and be pampered. Physical Sarah would rather enjoy things fine or otherwise and not put the time in or the effort. That's where the mind immediately plays a key role. There is an ongoing dialogue between that physical self and the spirit and there are times where one is the more dominant, right? And there are times where they hit that freq., that runner's ^. And people see it. You don't even have to look like you're smokin fast, you've just dialed the numbers baby and the call is going thru. :) hahaha Clearly I can't wait to run tomorrow. I'll blog again at the half way point.
Later.

Legend Has It: Fifteen Years of Sand

About the time when school started up, my morning jogs were interrupted regularly by very consistent comings and goings of dump trucks. I soon discovered their destination (and contents) and was pleasantly surprised to find that the town had made a cost effective purchase of sand to manage the varying conditions of a solid active stretch of New England winter, cheaply. I was happy with the fact that someone in our town is negotiating with our tax dollars instead of hemorrhaging out the cash to save time or salvage old contracts with old buddies or new bids from new buddies or however the story goes.
So the town secretary gave me the skinny on the purchase. As it turns out, the town of Lee, New Hampshire (Est. 1766), had a VERY special opportunity to purchase, get this, Fifteen years of sand (I even capitalized it). I know! Fifteen years of sand! Her delight was so infectious, I had to keep myself from moving her desk aside to gather her up in a firm embrace, wrapping both arms about her with a squeeze that let her know I, too found a reason to celebrate!
Driving out of there, I got to thinking out this "fifteen years" of sand. I thought it was funny that all of a sudden, on a random day in September, a new unit of measurement was taught to me. Though I felt a bit unclear as to exactly what 15 years of sand is, so I thought taking a look at it might be helpful.
Upon arrival I saw 4 great big massive piles of sand each about 3 stories high. And I thought about each pile maybe being 3 years of sand roughly, which brought it up to 12 years of sand presently in front of me. I then tried to visually divide each pile and wanted to imagine how many truck loads it took to carry one year of sand. Then I wanted to talk to someone. I wanted to demand to see a one year increment of sand! I think it should be dumped near the center of town so the townspeople can all come out and gaze upon this collective purchase we've made. Surely if you've purchased 15 years of sand, there must be 1. And since the company from whom we've purchased the sand devised this unit of measurement, then it must be a definitive unit of measurement, one that has been examined by the persons who chose to make this purchase on behalf of the town.
And let's say there is someone in the town monitoring the purchase of the 15 years. What does she have to do in terms of keeping track of how many years have been dropped off? Was she there when the first month arrived? Did she know when we had 6 months stashed near the back of this now storage lot of sand? Yes! The first six months of the sand has arrived, you now are awaiting delivery on the remaining 14 and a half years of sand.
Units of measurements. As I get older, I realize there are more and more units of measurements relating to lots
of things I know nothing about. Let's start with electricity. Watts measure total electrical power based on the variables of volt, amperes (amps), and ohms. I stole this from my husband who is an electrician on nuclear submarines. I have no friggin clue what these are. I Just know when I turn stuff on in the house, I want it on.
Then there are units of dry measurement, again things I don't understand. Things like a bushel or a peck. And it makes sense not to order, say the equivalent of 15 years of sand in a bushel, because a bushel is a bit over a cubic foot and this would be a rather daunting task to measure.
Of course there are other units of volume to consider. But there are also units of mass, length and area. Perhaps an appropriate unit of measurement for the sand could be MILE. LEt's break it down. One year or let us say 6 months of sand
is this much, now how many times can you run that truck up and down the George Bennett Road, out on to Mast Way taking a left there at Orion's Tree Service, then a left onto Steppingstone and back out heading south onto route 125 (which is 5.5 miles)?
Perhaps as the project manager, I would have inquired as to what if one winter was especially difficult and one especially calm. What about those winters where we just get hammered and get like 115 inches of snow? (I hope that's this year or that we get even more than 10 feet of snow)
Then I thought, what if 15 years of sand meant that the town has unlimited access to the sand they need for 15 years!? Nah, that doesn't seem right. So would that mean we can, ahem, sand a bit heavier than usual? Or maybe we could, ahem, sand more frequently than we would normally? and when those piles were gone, the sand company would come and replenish our stash with more sand?
And this cycle would continue for 15 years!!?
The trucks have stopped coming up and down the road now; and for some time my jogs have been quiet and the road less stuffy.
Today I pictured the final delivery of sand. I thought of the driver of that truck and how good he must have felt being the last drop, completing the order, needing a signature, shaking the hand and participating in a friendly exchange in a vocal tone a bit higher than his normal tone (expressing kindness and relief, though undetected by the listener).
I wonder, when the last year of sand arrived, did the management of the sand company and the town officials do a walk through, take a look-see, and double check making sure a couple of months didn't blow out while en route.
"OK, Well, there you have it. We've got 8 years in the back, these piles here bring it to 12 and just over there by the entrance, those there are the first years you'll use, um 13, 14 and 15..." BUt technically they're years of sand 1, 2 and 3, in the order used, but in the tallied years, they're last. Gosh, It doesn't matter.
I know I'll never forget the year my town bought 15 years of sand. So in the year 2024, or rather the winter of 24-25, we will need sand. I'll be 53 years old. Elijah will be 23 years old (and hopefully out of the house). Levi will be 18 years old (and hopefully out of the house).
But one thing is for sure, I am going to watch these sand piles and then maybe I'll devise my own unit of measurement as related very dark (85%) organic chocolate. Does anyone know what a lifetime supply looks like?

The Dry Run

My boys wanted to flip their grilled cheese sandwiches last night. I let them, too. They were grilled to perfection! Crispy golden on the outside and the cheese thoroughly melted and trying to escape only minimally. I sliced one on the diagonal and one straight away using the spatula. I remember being asked to consider ways to cut a child's grilled cheese once while babysitting for a wealthy family out on the boulevard in Rye, NH. To me it made sense to cut it in fourths and the shapes would be either square or triangular and the mother of that child thought it best that I offer the child the choice of which shape she'd like. So I thought of this last night while slicing the sandwiches and I laughed a little bit because i recalled conversation with that mom years ago and I wanted to be a smart ass so bad and say "as long as your daughter doesn't want circles, I'm cool". I was tempted to cut Levi's into circles but I am trying to encourage him to eat the crusts. There just comes a time in every child's life when they must start eating crusts! I suppose there is an endless list of things that children must learn to do and not all result necessarily in increased independence; this list of things they must learn are just behaviors we consider to be normal and acceptable. There comes a time when they must learn to tie their shoes and going to sleep without milk and ditching the sippy cup and quit running through the parking lot and no screaming at the toy store and no eating boogers and no pressing all the buttons in the elevator or dumping out the entire contents of board games on the floor and carrying the guinea pig not by the head and keeping your tips together while skiing and solving disputes with your brother without punching and saying excuse me after a variety of noises escape the body and no rummaging through mommy's stuff and quit referring to girls as crummy.
The boys both touched the side of pan for a nano second, nothing major. But I mean it's awkward to flip, in Levi's case, your first sandwich! I kinda remember doing it or at least it's not difficult for me to imagine how tricky it feels until you grow accustomed to the 'it's all in the wrist' motion. The little bit of stress when it's just about to flip, the singular sweeping motion and the sandwich is in flight and it looks like a tracer and it's not floating in slo mo. It's fast! And you almost have to close your eyes, like in a sneeze, and hope that it will work out in the end, that when your eyes open it will be flat in the pan and not up the side a bit or goddess forbid on one of yours shoes down below, or adjacent.
It hurts to touch the pan. It doesn't feel good. Not like how getting a little jolt of electricity feels good. You know that first surge of power followed by the ticking vibration and then the numbness and then, well, feeling ill. There is just all pain with the burn, plus it worsens exactly at the same rate as you realize what just happened. Poor guys. The only thing good that can come out of this, at least for Levi, is knowing what mom means now when she's says "be careful. it's hot." He got schooled in "it's hot" last night and will never forget.
For Elijah, his experience is a little different. His desire is to avoid the burn by perfecting the motion. To aid in this process, I will make him a pb & j and let him flip it in a cool pan until he builds his confidence. Because you really only have once chance to get the fated grilled cheese flip right. The dry run. He recognizes the benefits of practice! Being willing to practice is a wonderful attribute in a child who is growing and gaining knowledge and loving learning.
Yes, it's true. I have an achilles injury. I'm scared to even think about it really. BUt if you've gotten this far in my blog, then maybe you'll keep reading for the hell of it. Oh, today is day three without a run.
I added a lot of mileage last week after the half marathon, covered almost 60 miles throughout the week. I'm getting ready for my 10 days/One hundred miles challenge that I created in my head for myself. This challenge is part of the training I need for ultra marathon running. I figure if I can do that much damage to my muscles in those 10 days and continue to walk and feel good and reach a new level of fitness, then I can run an ultra. Plus it would be fantastic to run the Shamrock Marathon in March and have it be almost easy.
But the achilles.... I deserve the time off from running, this is what I tell myself. And I am learning to take cues from my body and make smart choices so that, in the long run, I am actively doing what I love the most and that is being in the run. If I weren't injured, I wouldn't be taking the time off like I wanted to after the half marathon was over. So here I am.
RICE, same old same old. Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation. only except there are two I s. Ibuprophen is the other and I have it in the gel and the tablet. This time I know with confidence that I am not losing fitness and this is because I've done this before.
Just like Elijah and Levi with their sandwich flipping skills, I too have practice in negotiating an injury.
I'm not going to be too sad. I'll be back at it soon. I'll also be skiing soon, too, and this just makes my heart sing.
Love to you,
Sarah

The Windy White Mtn. Milers Half Marathon

The night before, I just wanted to get to sleep at a regular time. I thought it would disturb me to get in some kind of "zone" or whatever. So I kept it casual.

We went out to the bar and I got hit on by this wookie that I think is super hot, seriously he is fine (I see him all around). SO that felt really good but I knew I couldn't drink too much so we left and tried to get some dancing in, but the bouncers carried 3 loud obnoxious drunk ladies out of the bar and literally threw them through the door! So I was outta there, I did not want to get stepped on by these girls who were pretty large and pretty hammered. So we headed home, ate some hummus and crashed. It was 10:30 pm. I woke up to the alarm at 5:45, got on my running duds and jumped in the Toyota munching almonds and drinking coffee.

The ride up was pleasant. Once the sun came up, the colors of the deciduous trees were gorgeous. Perhaps up north did not get as much rain as us the previous day because in southern NH we barely had leaves left.

It was gusty when we arrived. I accidentally grabbed the wrong headphones, one earbud was a little rattly in my ear. I had Cypress Hill "I Ain't goin out like that" on repeat. It reminded me to keep it tempo and easy for the first third of the race (my dad and I devised a plan the day before so I organized the race in thirds).

I was pretty happy and not nervous. I was looking at the other runners. They were looking at me, probably because the dreads were poking out and bouncing around and it might be funny for some, who knows.

The leaves were blowing hard out of this tree in front of the hotel. I told Curtis that it was likely that by the time I finished the race there may not be one leaf left in that tree. They were coming off and flying off, they were not hitting the ground in that special way that only leaves can.

The lining up was pretty casual. I wasn't exactly sure where the actual start was but I noticed people in running clothes facing a general direction. So I got my photo snapped while I was lined up. Funny those two men looking at me. I think they are digging those candy skull bracelets I'm wearing on my right wrist. I mean for $ .99 you can get pure maltodextrin pills on an attractive trendy accessory. I was proud of myself for this. And a cute girl next to me loved them and as long as she thought I was dope, then all was right.

So I was munching on the pills and the same cute girl, who was standing with her especially cute boyfriend (who sadly wasn't running), asked me if I was wearing headphones. And since I was, and while this seemed obvious because of the white buds in my ears and the miles of cable across my chest and the simply fabulous pink ipod affixed to my upper arm THAT didn't really require a response except that perhaps for once I was feeling super polite and stoked that she dug my bracelets so I said that indeed, "Yes." I was wearing headphones.

And so the man who was in charge of getting this thing going started to say that he was just going to say "Ready, set, go!" and that at which point we are to start running up the street. And the same girl says to me, "Do you know if we're allowed to wear headphones because I'm going to wear them too and I just didn't know if you knew for sure...." so I glance over at her now feeling about 30% less polite than I did about 13 seconds earlier and and her boyfriend says to her, "You know, that's okay, just wear your headphones." So I take another bite of my malto pills and hear "Ready, set, go!"

And just like in the Lore of Running, I take three normal steps, next I take a regular running stride followed by one that is steady and easy and another and then I find myself immediately at an 8:10 pace and passing all kinds of people. I was on the outside of this pack that seemed to be about 15 folks wide. Then it narrowed down to 2 or three quickly and we were off. I breathed deeply through my nose, passed over the river and was quickly at the mile one marker with a time of 8:12. Right on target.

Next marker I found myself at was mile 5. HOLY SHIT! The first third of the race and then some was over and I needed to do what dad and I talked about, he wanted me to hit a 7:30 till mile 9. ummm...sorry dad.

I ran with a guy for a couple of miles. This was distracting. I got passed by men. Several times I got passed by guys who were wearing aftershave. NOT COOL! I am serious, do you really think you need to douse yourself with this crap because you may meet the girl of your dreams and you don't want to smell like you've been at the gym for 2 hours? I won't tell you that these guys didn't look good running in front of me, that's not the point, I actually gagged on their horribly over-manufactured poor excuse for pheromones which triggered only one single natural response in me and that was the desire to hurl directly on their Asics.

Let me say something about the course real quick so you can follow what happens next. It's shaped like a Dum-Dum. You know those meager yet oddly complexly flavored lolli's that have a stick that seems not to scale with the thing, well that is a simplified visual for the course.

You go down the stick, you go around the small dum-dum and you come back up the stick, pretty simple.

Well, just as I got to the dum-dum, I saw the lead guy coming out of the dum-dum and heading back home down the stick to the finish. Then there was this handsome kid about twenty seconds behind him, that's the second place runner! I thought to myself, and I got all giddy and hollered, Pour it on! Pour it on! and he ended up winning, btw. :)

So around the loop I went and there was a sign that said half-way mark. Holy crap. I seriously could have crawled into someone's car right then and there. There was something super mental for me about hitting that loop, and having been informed of the fact that I was going to have to forge my way back up that SAME exact route for almost 7 more miles(?)!

About the time I completed that thought, I had also completed the turn and now heading in a Northerly direction, the windy Northerly direction (no seriously, I mean it) BOOM! There was the wind!!! You know, that wind that I saw at the start but thought no more about? The wind was to my back for the first half and I didn't even register it. It flew by and I could tell because mile one was perfect and up to mile five was effortless and now this... It immediately felt like I was pushing Levi in a jogger.

I stayed intent on focusing on my stride and on my posture but I knew that the mental shit was already in full swing because of that person's mini van and the cushioned captain's chair and climate control and the overall comfortable ride/performance it promised and probably guaranteed, even if it were just a Ford.

Mile 9, the one I had big plans for? the one that dad said, if you have anything left, this is the time to use it up. Right now. It's mile 9. So my mind went somewhere else. I imagined faces of people who I thought maybe would inspire me or would be proud or would smile spontaneously or maybe would nod in that like knowingly kind of way. And then I thought of that wookie and how sexy he is. And then I thought about hell and how maybe I would like to sometime slice off my quads and seer them in the firey pits till the juices run clear.

And then, when I saw that dude run by me on the tar with the bare feet, I turned around and me and this guy I just passed laughed together and then I said to the barefoot dude "You, my dear, are an animal". And so we all laughed for a second while the barefooted dude whizzed by like a a hungry gazelle in his prime, yeah, hahaha. Byeeeeee. Now where was I?

Oh yeah, hell.

Okay so I realized that I had a half eaten GU in my right hand since like mile 7 and that I had been tugging it like it was a single ounce of a fine scotch. My mouth was sticky and the malto pills were melting against my skin so I thought it was cool that I was absorbing some calories through my skin and that made me laugh.

And then there he is! oh my god! Where you been! There is that woman's husband again. I've seen him about every mile, since the thing began, dutifully cheering her on like a faithful friend offering sips of this and that and a variety of clif bloks, whatever she needed, especially a brief applause and some words of super genuine encouragement.

Except for the treats, I began to rely on him. I started to look for him and would pull an ear bud out so I could re-up on his good vibes. He was handsome, too. She didn't beat me even though she looked so evenly paced and so dialed in. I ran directly on her right heel from 9 through mile 11.5 and then I never saw her again.

Then I wanted my inhaler. This happened to me last fall too with the seasonal change, not sure what it is about that. But then that didn't end up being too serious. The quads though...there I was back to my visualization.

Why are half marathons 13.1 miles? Why does this seem longer than other longer runs I've done? Is this really 13 miles? Is there someone I can talk to about the methods they use for determining distance? Where's the manager? Do you know who's in charge here?

Okay, Soulfly. I am struggling here.

Another male runner passes he says something and it seemed nice but I can't hear very well but but I detect a pleasant tone and for a moment I imagine he was supportive. I'm over the bridge around the corner. Okay, Trey, OMG I have Phish tickets! I turn and see people. I see an arm go up and I hear "Here comes # 315 from Lee, NH Sarah Eaton, this is Sarah Eaton 38 years old from Lee, nh .....WAIT, TELL ME THAT DUDE DID NOT JUST ANNOUNCE MY AGE?????

And like that, I was done.

Number 122 overall. Finished 4th out of 20 in my division.

Sarah Eaton ran 13.1 miles PACE 8.23 SOTD Around the World (Daft Punk)-->Push on

Till The Day (Trey Anastasio)

I am planning on running a 5k this saturday in Exeter. We shall see.

13.1

My race is in exactly 48 hours or Sunday morning, October 25, 2009, up in North Conway, New Hampshire.

I chose this race for several reasons. First, I chose it because it's pretty close to where I live and it's going to be a pretty busy day for us, the race, then Tony Hawk in Rye and Jackie's (Jon's) 40th in Manchester that night. Second, I chose it because the fall colors are peaking in New England now throughout the weekend and it should be quite scenic. The third reason is because my father has run this half many consecutive years and it's nice to follow in his footsteps; he is not, however, running this year. And my final reason for running this race is because the shirt given is a long sleeve performance tee, which I'm thrilled to add to my winter running collection of kind, lightweight, breathable, sweat wicking threads.

I'm already being pretty snotty about what races I will run based on the shirt provided... cotton tees are totally lame, I mean who would ever dream of running in cotton anyway?

The race is at 9 am in the morning in front of the Eastern Slope Inn. It's named the White Mountain Milers Half Marathon and Relay. I'm running it solo. I've been getting ready for this race since I've been back from Oregon. I've thankfully been able to add mileage to my workouts, this is my indulgence!

Let us not forget the injured hamstring. This was kinda a stress injury...pushing too hard, working the same muscle without proper stretching, not warming up adequately, the stride opening too much and yanking that spot inside my knee over and over, until boom! it's just got pissed at me (that's what the sport med. guy said). In the last 3 weeks, I've also felt other stresses and aches in my neck and upper back, in my groin, and my right achilles, bottoms of both feet and even my gut.

I've been getting lots of advice from my friend Toni who just ran a NH marathon and qualified for Boston 2010 two weeks ago! She and I ran 4 or so miles together last weekend while on my 16 mile run and we talked a lot about what this marathon running is all about. I understand intellectually that marathon is at basic, not cumulative mileage, but actually exponential mileage. She agreed with me there, and as an accountant and business school instructor at a low residency program in Seattle, she has a pretty good understanding of the terms and how they relate to running distances, especially with a qualifying speed in mind. Toni has this achievement under her belt and now it's going to be my turn. We have also been working on the efficiency of my stride/gait and this will help tons in the long run.

Right now everything feels pretty loose except the neck. I am going to have to keep the icy hot and ibu gel on it and see if I can work this kink out (trying to avoid ice because of the disaster I made of my knee with the frostbite). But as far as motoring down the road, my kicks are in place and everything is ready.

I feel pretty confident that I can come in well under my 10k time from Oregon which fluctuated but seemed to hit around the 8:20 mark. The fluctuation was due to leg distances, lack of sleep, improper nutrition, leg difficulty (which seem to increase as the race went along for me) and my overall performance was just at a different pace; and these fluctuations will not be an issue here. Elijah is right now two feet away from me watching me type this and crunching SUPER LOUDLY on an apple, holy crap it's annoying OMG. (he just read that and is laughing hard now and spraying me with apple spray from his crazy mouth eeeeeew).

I have sort of a tactical plan I'm working on for this race. The key component is not coming out too fast. Unlike in 5k's and 10k's where there really isn't a ton of time to execute plan. For this longer race, I have to think about the start specifically. I've been doing lots of longer runs lately and I feel pretty confident that I will not tire. HOWEVER, I need to temper the first 4-6 miles and keep it at an easy pace, maybe 8:15- 8:20 so when the people in front of me start to feel the burn at mile 9, I can plow right over them and get me some roadkill lined up for the final 10 kilometers of the thing, like a 7:45 (?).

Or it could be possible I might suck. But I'm going to try not to. This race is part of a mission I'm on to complete the races in sequential order all the way up to something really long. So I had a 5k in Aug. in Portsmouth, then three 10k's in Oregon, now the half in Conway and then the Marathon in VA Beach in March. What's left after that? Maybe running a 50k race, who knows. I am just thoroughly enjoying my fresh air self and loving the many benefits of a healthy, fit body.

And I can't wait to see Sue LeBlanc Sydnor up there, it's been exactly many years!

Love to everyone,

Sarah

Running That Loop

I saw you again yesterday running that loop. We pass each other twice because we are heading in opposite directions, but I think I'm faster than you, except I had to pee at mile 8 and that took several minutes because of my hydration pack. I'm faster after I pee. If we talk sometime, I'd tell you that drinking coffee may not be the best just before a long run because it's a diuretic and makes you pee. I like your gloves. In the marathon, if I have to pee, I will not stop and head for a squat, I will go on myself. I like that you smile at me. Hey, so today I am aware of all my muscles from the groin down, the quads feel tough. I think you're cute, actually. And you move well.

For once I really love something because it's quiet and singular, what interests me the most about running is being alone and being powered by my own spirit. Maybe it's just because people can be cute.

Running these miles means more to me now than it did while in the process of changing. That girl is gone now. From here on out it is about fine tuning my brain to deal with longer and longer harder runs. There is a program for my head that I'm working on. Knocking down miles and processing kilometers in my head. 5k, 8k, 10, 12k, [30k, 40k+] are just stages that I will watch pass by and those moments will pass me by (hopefully quickly) and I will watch my pace and listen to my head and hunt down anyone I see in front of me.

Do you run that same loop every Wednesday? I usually have a different Wednesday loop, with a total uphill time of just over thirty minutes. Yeah, I know, me too.

It's A Show Day

The Disco Biscuits tonight at the Hampton Beach Casino, NH

I love show days. I wake up and the first thing I think about is heading out for a beer and then off to the venue. Today is no exception! I'm ready... it isn't Phish, but it's a show. For Phish, I'd make an entire day of it ?(or string a bunch together so it goes on for a couple of weeks:). Shows are spiritual! Inspired by the music, each and everyone of us. Live music is easy and complicated at the same time. What kind of art is music? A vibration, of course that's what sound is. But if you think about a painting, the strokes and colors that compose the work are done at the artists discretion but with no real impression on the one who stands before it. The work just is...like in Heidegger. That open lighted place that exists for the work to impress itself upon the viewer without the artists direction, he becomes incidental to the work and it stands alone. Live music? It's similar. Think about the instruments as the medium and the work? The collective sounds, the composition. And the audience? We experience the work of art. And we bring to it ourselves, our experiences and feelings; we each bring our own personal compositions to the music, making the entire happening of this art beautiful and important. The musicians become incidental to this happening and the music stands alone. I wish everyday were a show day!

Today's run: I ran point to point for an hour. Felt real good! Ran past a light where about 50 dudes in leather and on motorcycles watched me go by and collectively missed the light. lol.

I feel no pain at the bone where the hamstring attaches and was strained. The pain I feel now is on the skin. It turns out I gave myself frost bite by freezing my skin to the ice I was using to alleviate the hammy strain. My skin has partly melted off and partly bubbled up (due to the reaction the ibuprophen gel had to the extreme temp of the ice) and it is red and raw. It is very painful and I am eating ibuprohen like a champ and applying neosporin to the area. Fun times!

But my run was really great.

I felt really strong and quick. My breathing was easy. I was not stressed. Employed my arms big time today. My runs look more and more like tempo's. This is exciting for me! I have been on a quest for the tempo run, to be consistent on the run without fluctuations in pace.

Time to take Levi to the library and pick up the Lore of Running, it just arrived through inter library loan. I hope you have a beautiful day

SOTD Some how Some way -- Jay Z

Important to talk about this morning is a sad story I heard last night from a good friend of mine. His old boss broke his neck surfing at the NJ Shore and some surfers found him at the oceans edge. No words can really describe how this event makes me feel. There are many times when I need perspective on things but never hoping it's comes as hurtful as what happened to this man. It's uncertain what will happen to him but I'm sorry it did.

I Thought of him while I ran this morning. I felt perfectly (fucking) pain free (and it was amazing) for the first 80% of the run and then had an aching in the hammy for the remainder. This was a reminder that the area there is still in some distress, however I feel out of the woods, overall.

My pace was 8:10 covering 5.5 miles. I would like to keep going but a girlfriend of mine (who is a PA for orthopedics and sports medicine) made me swear to stop if I felt discomfort. So for the last twenty percent, I slowed it up and shortened the strides. Uphill bothers it more, flat is pain free. I am ready to be 100%.

Everything will be okay.

After telling me about his boss, my friend said he was going to give extra kisses to his daughter that night...another lesson to me. Appreciating the time with my two sons as it all goes by so quickly (I can see that it's true). Loving Elijah and Levi in the best way I know how is the best use of my love.

I Can't Believe It's Not Butter

Today was my first run in a few days. Actually, out of seven days, I've run only twice.

I went with 6 miles as I felt really great after the first half mile. The hamstring

injury (a small tear behind the knee that the doc says is pissed...) feels better but

not 100%. I went at a 8:36 pace today, shooting for easy feelin medium length strides (in my new pink 769's which are so lovely, btw). My breathing was normal and easy. Ran the whole thing with my suck shut, so that's new and good for everyone.

I didn't suspect I would be all healed up even though that is what I want. I think this may take

another week to completely heal, but I think I can and should run through this stage of the healing process.

Keeping the easy pace may be the key component and hopefully working up to 8 or 9 mile distance in 5 or so days (with permission), I'd asked to do 15, ahem, but I know better :)

I started to cry around the 4 mile mark. It might have partly due to the song that was

playing and that thinking/problem solving that goes with the territory.

No matter, the important thing is how running

welcomed me back this morning and for that I am grateful.

An all new work ethic starts today.

(thank you for reading)

And I hope you enjoy that deer I saw today on the side of the road. Eyes were open and it looked like it was breathing, but I know better. I've seen enough dead bodies to know that the single freaky commonality between them is they all look like they're still breathing.

You're a Clever Boy

I usually plan a long run for Saturdays on my quiet Friday evening. I kinda play the run out in my head and go to bed with a plan. I love the plan.

Not tomorrow! Nope, tomorrow is the fourth consecutive day I get to lounge around the house sipping coffee, the bottomless cup.

I took up drinking coffee since the running has stopped. Normally keep away from the stuff. I asked my husband, who drinks espresso, which is just too strong for me, to rifle through the attic and retrieve our grinder and coffee maker. I've since gone to the market TWICE to get coffee beans. Now, I'm compulsive about it! That's a lot of coffee. It'd be nice to have running back since it has occurred to me that healthy compulsions are the best kind to have and because running on this level where training is involved requires an immaculate diet (where percentages in the various food groups are meticulously planned), (those large quantities of) coffee just might not be the best choice.

Sometimes I'll even post my intended workout for Saturday on facebook. That post would include my projected mileage for the run maybe I'd make brief mention of a certain road or loop I might be travelling on and of course I would say a bit about how I would be feeling about the run.

So today is tomorrow and I'm on the couch with bottomless cup #3. I am looking forward to tomorrow's run. Making plans and getting ready to make a change in every way.

I can't believe the endless moments I've spent thinking about my current situation. And while 76 weeks of event free running has been a blessing and a few days to a week off is small price to pay, working toward being smarter is going to be key. The performance I expect from myself in the marathon changes everything.

Tomorrow, I am looking forward to you. Hematite and I are on a quest for an event free run.

My First Car

As far as my being a runner is concerned, I’m not the same person. My running technique and style has been developed over the last 5-6 months and not by any magical potion or casting of spells. Through hard work and determination, I've gotten thinner and faster and better.

The training programs developed by L have unlocked an athlete and unleashed an animal. Without his vision, I'd still be bobbing down the road to nowhere. Without my family's support, I'd still be the old tired me, unhappy me.

So, I hardly even recognize myself. I look forward to waking up in the morning. I swing my legs off the side of the bed and I look at the lean muscular shape of them and I look at my thin fingers and I feel happiness.

I think about putting on the running gear in between marrying milk and cereal, spreading jam on toast and preparing the lunch box. The shoe selection requires special attention and my internal discussion on the matter comes and goes between laying out school clothes and satisfying the toddler with enough clothing choices that will hopefully inspire him to move on to the next part of our morning routine. I braid the hair and brush the boys’ so they look anything but unkempt. My braid must be snug and uniform or strays will start bouncing around, I can see them in my shadow on the pavement waving and only getting worse about when I’m really chugging along (mile 4), and becoming a nuisance.

Because school just started, considering a base layer is not crucial, that will come later in the month of October. I’ll warm up sufficiently after suffering through the first mile. I always suffer through the first mile, and I did not invent that nor did I convince myself that it’s true, it just is.

There are phases to my runs, my body, pace and cadence morph throughout the workout. It depends on the length, but I can tell when I need to pay attention to my posture or stride. I've straightened up, literally. I run tall and with a smile. My arms are relaxed and loose at my side with hands loose and in front. I shake my arms out by my side every 2 or so miles just to feel fully loose and dialed in to my body. Feeling spontaneous during a run is something I've learned to force myself to do and in doing it, I've built confidence . Sometimes I leap over cracks in the pavement or I look left into the woods, which brings my braids and dreads over my right shoulder and they knock me in my clavicle and my face, so I don't prefer that. I also look at my shoes. The rhythmic pounding, the shoes passing each other over and over, light and easy, not heavy or stressed, just easy and pushing me, almost like a glide rather than a bounce. But sometimes I bounce too.

This is part of my being spontaneous. Occasionally I will rock my head back and forth with my stride when I'm feeling strong and in third gear. Third gear...okay so this goes back to my first car that I got on my sweet sixteenth birthday. My dad bought me a black 1983 VW rabbit GTI (complete with a ski rack, dad you rule) with blaupunkt speakers and a phatty pioneer tape deck. My running in third is punchy and light. Like that VW and those kids from Hampton I used to drag in Rye, and once I pushed her into third (with super high rpm's in 2nd), she was tight and quick and we were off! To touch the pedal in third, she'd respond immediately. So that's what running in third is to me. It's quick, light and responsive.

I have come to think of myself as having a motor (AC/DC) and being a machine...my lengthy runs put me in third and right into auto mode I go. I'm not even really cognisant of what's happening, my body does all the work for me, I'm just along for the ride. Weird the runner's high. Must. Have. It. Soon.

I'm going to write something soon about how much it costs to lose a shit load of weight.

My Mom is My Dealer

I'm just going nuts inside; I feel sorry for those of you who know it personally, maybe next time you won't ask? I wouldn't like that, but I'm hoping there won't be a next time. There is nothing like being told you can't do something, or worse, knowing that if you do something that you want you could do more damage than if you left well enough alone.

This applies to many things in life, not just, I dunno, knee injuries and your favorite frickin' thing to do with yourself.

I went and saw mom yesterday. She got a new refrigerator because the one she had leaked at random times. I think leaky fridge's happen in 3's, like death and rude interactions between strangers.

Anyway, I asked to bum some ibuprophen off her and she generously dumped half the bottle in a zip lock bag. I was stunned! I mean, obviously it reminded me of yesteryear and a certain laughable lettuce (quoting a certain Gailey).

But, seriously, it didn't take long before I realized that even mom knows the best way to move drugs from one place to another.

Enough with small wooden boxes and recycled Wispride cold cheese pack processed port cheese product containers (which are actually quite useful for organizing screens and papers and seeds and other potent potables, I mean, or so I've heard.)! It's the zip lock bag.

Thanks mom, for everything, for real. And thank you for the bag of motrin. I've never felt so weird doing something so legal in my life.