Yesterday’s Workout Stats:
Route: down to Washington St. and back up
Best Song: “I Won’t Back Down” by Tom Petty (Oh, the DRAMA.)
Just when I thought it was all over, my body went ahead and surprised me again. The good kind of surprise. I ran last night – 3 or 4 miles – without pain (!). Without pain in my shins, that is.
You read it correctly – the lower leg pain is gone, but perhaps it’s alleviation has made way for a new kind of physical angst. Now my back hurts. My lower back. Where I injured it high school after falling down slippery steps. Yes, it hurts, but I’m not complaining.
I’m going (again) to the Boston Bodyworker, but this time for a
excruciating pain-relieving back rub. I’m seeing another therapist because my former guy didn’t have availability.
Although … I’m rather glad to be seeing someone new because this someone happens to be a woman and even though they’re totally professional and I’m completely chill about everything in life (not EVEN), I understand there is some major “glute work” involved in this procedure (I kid you not), and, well, I’d guess I’d be more comfortable with a woman massaging my tush than a man. Is that wimpy?
Although this training has opened a Pandora’s Box of injuries and unexpected bodily maintenance costs, I’m still having fun, learning about myself, and growing cool muscles in places they’ve never been before.
Pain? What pain? I laugh at pain. Ha.
My marathon singlet.
Where I come from, they call these pinnies. (Remember pinnines?)
This is how I’ll look on game day.
Only a bit less smiley, plus I’ll be wearing a hat. And hopefully I’ll be rockin’ enough hair to pull back into a ponytail. And I’ll surely be drenched in sweat (and begging for PowerBars) once I’ve gotten to you. And, hopefully, my legs will have healed by then. Otherwise, it would just be a shirt.
I’ve always been a fan of acronyms, spawning from my young days of watching Sleepless in Seattle and marveling at Nora Ephron’s use of such verbal shortcuts as MFEO (Made For Each Other) and H and G (Hi and Goodbye). Fast-forward to middle school and my early AOL days when LOL entered the universal lexicon (Laughing Out Loud – one I never warmed up to – too mainstream) and today where, at work, filler copy is applied FPO (For Placement Only) as the designers wait for my magical copy (usually complete words and spelled-out phrases – boo) and almost everything is labeled TBD (To Be Determined – but you knew that one) until someone is ready to commit.
Since I’ve never met an acronym I wouldn’t have to tea, I decided to commit to expanding my VAL (Voluminous Acronym Library – and, yes, I coin my own, and no, not everyone understands them, and double no, I don’t care) and embracing RICE, which will hopefully nourish my aching shins and stifle my overstressed melon.
Jen sent this antidote my way, as she also endured the dreaded SSes (Shin Splints – now you’re getting it!) in her quest to run the Boston Marathon. Although I detest the pain and abhor the idea of sitting around and waiting for a miracle, I do have BPL (Big Puffy Love – last one, I promise) for acronyms as an entity and verbal reductions as a group, so I will give this new one a shot.
Game on, RICE.
This post is lonely. So lonely. Hungering for some juicy stats. A route. Some mileage. Just one measly time. And the music – where has all the music gone?
It’s all in one place. One crabby, burning, irritated place. The shins. No, not those Shins . These.
Dang. They still hurt.
So after two sessions of pinching, squeezing, and other tactics better left to measuring the ripeness of fruit (that, last time I checked, doesn’t have nerve endings), I am Still. Not. Better.*
I’m trying to be good about it. Take this time to write more, call old friends, try new recipes (you know, new hot dishes from Whole Foods). But, I’m getting restless. And hoping this will soon end. And growing nervous that I’ll be weak and unconditioned for game day.
Time is all I need. Time and patience. Time, patience and pointy, three-inch patent leather Manolo Blahnik Mary Janes. (Black. Size 8.5.) I’m just saying. In case anyone
with deep pockets wants to cheer me up.
Hey, here’s something to brighten your day:
Jayla is doing really well. She is working on sitting up and has started eating some solid foods. She was fitted for her first pair of braces so she’ll be off and running in no time. One piece of advice for Miss Jayla: start slow, you don’t want to end up like me!
[*Side Note: I totally recommend The Boston Bodyworker for your sports injuries/aches and pains – the massages are totally loosening up my muscles. We’re just not there yet.]
Saturday’s Workout Stats:
Route: from my couch to the fridge and back again
Time: infinity + eleventy jillion boring, motionless minutes
Best Song: the theme to Run’s House
First, let’s get this out of the way (here’s a little foreshadowing for you literary-types): there was no fun run for me, in fact, there was no fun at all for this grumpy, shin-splinted girl who felt like two lead weights (you know, like the ball-and-chain kinda things from Tom & Jerry?) were tied to her ankles.
Actually, let’s be truthful here. Having Saturday off was more of a time-management blessing than a ha-ha-you-can’t-run curse. I got a lot done. A LOT.
• I picked up dry cleaning (that’s been sitting in a store. 1/8 of a mile from my home. since September. SEPTEMBER.)
• I picked up 2 pairs of pants from the tailor (to add to the holy-crap-it’s-too-cold-for-skirts rotation)
• I hit up the N-Ville post office
• I kept up the the Kardashians – big time
• I returned a movie to B-Buster (Paris, J’Taime – eh)
• I watched The Notebook (sob)
• I saw The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (double sob)
• I discovered this (delightful)
• I took a walk at Humarock
• I enjoyed a long and fruitful reign as president of the world’s most fabulous card game (not to be named on this rated-G-for-“gorgeous” blog)
• I cooked a fabulous gourmet dinner of turkey sandwiches and pickles for my friends
• I cleaned Ginger (the red Jetta) – INSIDE AND OUT!
• I began a new personal writing project that I’m having a lot of fun with (maybe a short story?)
• I bought some groovy iTunes (Ingrid Michaelson’s Girls and Boys, Juno soundtrack, Love is Free by Cheryl Crowe and Love Like This by Natasha Betingfield – you know you want me to burn you a CD – not that I do that, piracy watchdogs)
• I hit up the Paper Source and endeavored a labor-intensive craft project (thanks, Keeks)
• I changed my oil (yes, Dad, I finally changed my oil – might sound like an everyday occurrence, but MAN, do I hate doing car-related tasks)
• I spoke to Jayla’s mom, Jenn, and got the low-down – pics to come!
Want to hear about my sadistic massage experience? Stay tuned …
Lance Armstrong is running the marathon too.
Why is EVERYONE trying to steal my thunder?
Unless, of course, his fabulous girlfriend, Tory Burch is handing these out. Then, I’ll reconsider my aversion to Lance, the great, yellow thunder stealer.
Until then, I have this to say: You may be Armstong, but I’m Legstrong, so look out!
Route: Upper Falls through Waban, N. Highlands, N. Center, N.ville and back again (a running tour of Newton)
Best Song: “Life is a Highway” by Tom Cochrane
I owe you a fun run post. So, better late than never, here it is:
I overslept this week. Or, rather, my alarm blew it. Can you blame a well-instructed and easily understood machine for your own error? In my case, yes. :o)
You see, Santa brought me a new iHome. I love, love, love it, but I am super-confused by its many fabulous facets. For example, did you know you can set two different alarms and set each to its own rockin’ iPod mix? She likes to wake up to classical. He prefers the melodic compilations of AC/DC. No sweat! Both can win with the incredible iHome. Unless you’re me (just me – sigh) and you wake up at different times on weekdays and weekends.
You can set one alarm for 5 days and the other for 2 days, which would theoretically mean you wake up at one time (let’s say 7:15) Monday through Friday and another time (let’s say 6:45) on Saturday and Sunday. (Side Note: Yes – it IS freaky that I wake up earlier on weekends these days than I do during the week.)
Long story short (because I’m sure you’ve stopped reading by now anyway), my flawless plan for awakening from my weekend slumber failed.
But I still ran the assigned route. It was great. I traveled through many of the glorious Newtopian villages and soaked in the fabtastic weather. I tried Clif Shot Blocks (yum) and Jelly Belly Sport Beans (double yum) and I even sported my f
ueltoolbelt. The geekiness is palpable.
There was a lot of open-mouth chewing and water-bottle fumbling, but I made it through.
‘Til next time … (We’re running from Newton to the State House.)