secret girl stuff

First of all, I am sick. I went to bed at 8pm last night, slept until nearly 7am today, and woke up sounding like Kathleen Turner. I am also very warm right now. But this is not the primary reason for my post today.

No, today I am filled with kindness and love for everyone, and it’s freaking me out a little. I have this desire to compliment people today, to tell them how great I think they are, which could be a little uncomfortable for everyone, considering I am in the office today and feeling particularly filled with admiration and love for select coworkers. Not in that way, of course. I just think that some of them are really great, and they are also shy and fun and adorable, which is why I want to hug them sometimes, because they are so cute when they’re like that! But that would be weird.

It just struck me that although I am not particularly happy right now (in fact, I am downright miserable if you want to know the truth), I still want to make other people happy, or at least let them know that they are valued and that I care about them. And I think that’s OK, to let people know that you care. It’s what makes us human and it doesn’t have to be a big deal, you know?

There is something, however, that is making me sad. I ruined a friendship a few years ago - totally unintentionally, but still - and that friend was someone that I really cared about. I’ve been meaning to try to contact her (not via email of course), but I don’t really know what to say. The whole thing, from my perspective, was a big misunderstanding, but I clearly hurt her feelings and, as she is a very loyal person, this was a big deal.

So… I just don’t know what to do now. I could send her a card maybe, or just call her (although she hates to talk on the phone). It’s not that I necessarily want her to say forget it, I forgive you, and everything will be back like it was. I guess I just want the opportunity to earn her trust, to earn that forgiveness. I miss her and she is an amazing person who I wish was still in my life.

It’s Sunday night and I’m sitting on the sofa, left foot in my stupid PF boot thing. I’m hydrating, and contemplating going to bed before 9:30. It has been a long weekend.

Yesterday was just busy doing random stuff - chores, errands, walkng Bo, cooking. I went to bed early but had a rough & restless night.

So, when I woke up this morning at 7:30… whoa, 7:30(!!!)… I was exhausted and didn’t feel like running. I had some coffee and ate my usual, pre-run, summer breakfast (Cheerios with blueberries & plain soy milk), drank some water, checked my email, procrastinated, and finally hit the road at about 9:30.

It wasn’t particularly hot today, and there was a nice breeze, but the sun was bright and it felt hot enough without being uncomfortable. I was sweating my ass off pretty quickly and I was worried about having enough fluids for my out and back route. Around mile 3, my stomach started cramping and I couldn’t stomach anything sweet. I was sweating a lot; way more than I should have been.

By the time I had been out for an hour, I managed to force down a Gu and some water,  walked for a few minutes, and tried to tell myself that there was only another half hour or so run, and most of it was downhill. My stomach had started to calm down, but I had a feeling that the cramping and general awfulness was about ready to head south. I touched my face and felt the salt crusted along my temples. This was not good. I kept running.

At 8 miles I was nearing the road that headed back to my house and I bagged it, one mile short of my plan.  This was disappointing, but I had been feeling off for a while. I walked the long, slow hill back home, about a third of a mile, sipping the Gatorade I had left. It felt disgusting in my mouth and I gagged a little, but got it down.

When I got home, Rob just stared at me. Are you OK? he asked.

In spite of the cramping and sweating, I didn’t really feel that bad, but when I saw myself in the bathroom mirror I was shocked. My face was so salty. My arms were salty, and my face was red but also had no color, if that makes sense. When I sat down to deal with my GI issues, holy hell, I started sweating even more. That’s when I noticed the smell coming off me: ammonia. Ugh.

I drank some orange juice, ate some pretzels and some plain yogurt, then went up stairs to shower and rest. The cold shower felt amazing, and I could feel the food & fluids I’d had starting to do their job. Then I slept for 2 hours.

I still don’t know exactly what happened. It wasn’t that hot. I ran in the shade when I could. I had fluids with me, and was well hydrated before I left. Call it a running anomaly, I guess, because I feel fine now.

Weird.

The other day I was just sitting at my desk, writing UI requirements (ho hum), when an email popped into my In box, and that email bore the news that my friend’s relay team for Reach the Beach was down a member and they were looking for a runner for their team. For the uninitiated, RtB is a 200 mile, 24 hour relay race, from Franconia to Hampton Beach, NH. Basically you alternate running, driving around to different parts of the course, stinking it up in a van with your teammates, and having tons of fun all the while. Afterwards, you drink beer and eat fried seafood. Hooray!

Now, it was only a few days ago that I had been saying to another friend of mine, Oh, I wish that I could do that race, so of course I replied and said, I’m in. Where do I sign up? And my friend said, Are you sure? That’s fantastic. And I said, Does the Pope shit in the woods? which I know makes no sense, but it’s fun to say anyway.

And then I IMed Dianna, basically squealing like a little monkey about the whole thing.

I then squealed (again, like a monkey) to another, non-running friend of mine, who asked, “are you excited? Because I don’t know if I should be excited for you, or just tell you you’re crazy, and I just want to give you the correct response.” I think a bit of both is appropriate, to tell you the truth, I said, or rather squealed.

So, now I’m on a team. And it is AWESOME and I am PSYCHED. Psyched, like only a squealing little monkey can be psyched, which is a lot, apparently. And now I must figure out how to train for this race, and how it differs from my half marathon training, which is going OK in spite of my PF. My friend Jillie sent me a copy of her training schedule and it seems to dovetail nicely into my own, with the exception of running a few doubles before the race, so I’ll have to figure that out.

I’ve got a 9 miler on tap for Saturday morning, before we leave for our camping trip, and that will be my longest run since my half in May. It seems crazy and weird to me that I’m back to running longer miles so quickly, given that I took so much time off after the race, and that I’ve been running spottily ever since, but so it goes. I’ll take it. I just wish the PF would go away is all.

The night splint has been helping a ton, and I can finally sleep through the night with it on, which is huge. For a while I ended up taking it off at around 3am, then putting it back on around 5am, before getting up at 5:30. Needless to say, that kind of messed with my sleep patterns. I never go barefoot anymore, and I’m still using a foam roller on my calves, which always feel tight no matter what I do.

But Reach the Beach! Oh my. I can barely contain myself. Glen & Julia are coming in from Chicago. Wu is coming down from Vermont. Kris and Robert are coming up from San Antonio. Beth from Connecticut. Melissa from Ohio, whom I’ve never met. A bunch of us Massholes. And Jill, from NH by way of Kentucky. I can’t wait to see them and run with them, to cheer them on and drink a beer (or many) afterward.

I am literally stupid with excitement. Seriously. Somebody pinch me!

An open letter to the person who stole my new tent:

Hi, person of no shame, it’s Annalisa, and I gotta say, you have some balls. I mean, to come up onto my porch in the middle of the day and swipe my package? Really? That’s low. How did you even know that the contents of the box were of any value to you? And if not, I really would have appreciated it if you had just left the opened box on the porch and went on your way.

You know, I was really hoping to have my new tent by the weekend to test it out, and so that I could seam-seal it before our trip, but thanks to you, not only may I have to wait to do that, but I also may have to go out and buy an inferior tent if this doesn’t get resolved with the seller, and fast.

I really think it’s awful that you walked up onto my porch and stole that box. Either I’m out the money, or the seller of the tent is, and either way that’s really rotten. I’ve managed to go 36 years of my life without stealing anything, and it really chaps my ass when things like this happen. Honestly, what the hell is the matter with you?

I hope you get eaten by a bear in that tent. And vaffanculo, dickweed.

Sincerely,
Annalisa

Daniel, who is one of the coolest guys I know, hosted a lunchtime meeting where he showed us his photos from Nepal and told us all about the trip. It was only an hour, but I could have listened to him all day. I had about 20 more questions to ask, but didn’t feel like bothering everyone else with my nerdy queries about pack weight and the like.

I’m just really impressed with how he went about training for the trip, sleeping in an oxygen tent, doing a ton of hiking in preparation, and for having that adventurous spirit that I so admire. But like I said, Daniel is very cool, and he’s also a very driven and independent guy.

When I saw his pictures of Mt. Everest, I started to tear up, imagining how it must have felt to have traveled so far and hiked for so long to get there, how excited he must have been, that feeling of achievement that he must have felt. And I was proud of him, you know? I know it’s completely sappy, but I honestly wanted to hug him and say congratulations, but he’s my coworker and that would be weird. :)

In some ways, though, it’s a lot like completing a marathon (or, in my case, a half).

Afterward, I told him about how I wanted to go to Africa and climb Kilimanjaro before I turn 40, and then I thought about how that is only 3.5 years away, and there was a sigh heard round the world.

But that begs the question, what is stopping me? Money, time off from work, fear, I guess. I love camping and backpacking, but it’s something I never do anymore. Every year I talk about going out into the woods for a weekend or two and it never seems to happen. It’s depressing and stupid, honestly.

That said, we are planning a camping trip to Maine in a few weeks. Our friends are really the driving factors here, and I’m hoping that Rob will enjoy it enough so that we can do more camping trips. Given that we’ve scrapped our plans to go to Glacier this year, postponing it to next summer, I feel like I need to get out of the city and hang out in the woods with Bo and Rob as often as possible.

I’m off to San Francisco for a few days (just a very, very short work trip), and we’ll see about doing some hiking with Bo next weekend, even if it’s just down to Stonybrook reservation or out to Medfield for some swimming and flatter trails.

I took last week off and went to see Dr. Green again. *sigh*  Another course of prednisone and a night splint were prescribed, along with PT, which I haven’t had time to even think about scheduling.

But my foot is finally feeling a bit better and I’ll try running tomorrow. The quandry is what to do about the schedule for Baystate. I am so, so far behind right now and kind of freaking out about it.

I’m going to run 8 with Elissa this weekend, so we’ll see how that goes and then figure out the rest.

This week has been a bit more tame in terms of my office life, but at home it’s been a whirlwind. I thought I was going to have to travel down south this week, so I packed in as many errands & chores as I could, and even took a personal day to get some stuff done.

The weekend has been no less busy. Yesterday, Rob and I went up to look at lot in New Hampshire. Our friends have a great house up there, and there just happens to be a lot for sale on the same road. It’s over 2 acres, and very affordable given the market. So we’ll see. That trip killed most of the day, leaving Sunday to pack in all of the cleaning, laundry, shopping, and cooking that I normally spread out over the weekend.

Then this morning, Rob got a call from his BIL and had to go watch their kids until noon. Not that either of us minds, but that makes the lions share of the chores fall to me.

As of 11:59 AM, I have accomplished the following:

Made coffee, took Bo on an hour long walk/hike in the conservation land, watered my garden, stripped and made the bed, vacuumed & dusted the entire house, mopped all of the floors downstairs, wiped down all of the windowsills that Bo manages to slime during the week, washed out Bo’s bowls & food stand thing, completed 2 loads of laundry, cooked split peas & brown rice for my salads this week, and made pizza dough for tonight’s dinner.

Not bad for 4.5 hours worth of work.

What’s left to do:

Return library books, grocery shopping, make brown rice salad recipe for lunches this week, walk Bo again, run 6 miles if my foot feels alright, cook dinner, wipe down the kitchen, and clean the bathrooms, which I am going to leave for Rob.

We have a running joke where one of us says, “that’s because I do everything around here,” and the other one rolls their eyes, or snorts with laughter.  If you’re asked, “what are you doing,” the correct response is, “doing everything around here, that’s what.”

It’s meant to be light hearted, but sometimes it does feel like one person IS doing everything around the house, and that kind of sucks. A few weeks ago, it was Rob, when my foot was so bad that I could barely walk. The other night it really felt like it had been my turn to do everything, and it upset me a lot.

But today feels different. Today it’s just part of helping each other out, and letting the other person enjoy the small amount of free time they have for the weekend. That’s all.

Still, it’s a freaking big list. I think he owes me big time. :)

I don’t know about other runners, but sometimes I am obtuse about when to get new shoes. I really try to keep my running shoes only for running, and log all my miles, but then either I forget to write stuff down, or I end up taking the dog for a walk before or after a run, or my feet hurt and I put my running shoes on because they are soft and comfortable. Before I know it, I’m well up over 350 miles (which is when my shoes tend to break down because I am not 130 lbs or less) and I need a new pair, but it usually takes a while for that fact to sink in.

Anyway, I can’t remember who suggested it to me, but one of my running friends said, “hey, now that you have new orthotics, have you ever considered downgrading to a stability shoe? You might have fewer problems with your feet with a less rigid shoe.” I thought, sure. Maybe. And if I don’t like them for running, I can just wear them around.

On Friday I happened to be returning something at DSW and decided to see what kind of running shoes they had (turns out, a lot). After doing a quick lookup online (thank you, iPhone), I decided to try out the Asics 2130s. My feet had been hurting with the PF and all, so I was wearing my old shoes with my orthotics in them, so let me tell you, when I put a new shoe on my left foot, comparing it with my Evolution 3 on my right, it was like night and day. Or rather, a cloud and a brick.

Soon I was home with my new shoes. I tried them on again, then back to the old ones. Holy crap. The cushioning in my old shoes was so broken down it was unreal, and I’d had no idea. To illustrate, here is a revealing photo:

In my mind, my old shoes were just a little dirty, but otherwise fine. I’d done my half marathon training in them, and probably an additional 50 miles of running before that, and about 20 miles of dog walking. Yeah. I am stupid.

Saturday was my first run in the new shoes. I can honestly say that I enjoyed that run completely, even though it was humid and had some steep hills. My orthotics, for the first time, didn’t give me any hot spots over my arches. My feet didn’t hurt (until hours afterward, but no more than usual), and I felt really good. No knee or shin issues with the new shoes. No ITB strain or back aches. Yay!

Today I’ll be running again, and we’ll see how they hold up. I think I’ve found a winner.

Yesterday I ran 5 miles, and it was alright, as 5 mile runs go in West Roxbury, which has always been kind of… meh. I know it sounds nutty, because I have a great 3, 4, and even 4.5 mile route, but 5 has always been a bit of a nuisance. 6, 7 and even 8 are all good. 9 is a problem, as is 10, so for those I end up driving to Cambridge. See? Nutty. Like I said.

The thing about a 5 mile loop in my neighborhood is that there are certain pleasant roads to take, and then there are roads which are either annoyingly hilly, offer no shade, have too much traffic, or force one to run on concrete sidewalks.

My 4 mile route is probably the most satisfying of the under 6 routes. From my house I head west on a relatively flat, well traveled but wide road. I then cut over to Grayfield - a lovely street with almost zero traffic - that ascends gradually until it terminates at Mt Vernon. Mt Vernon is even lovelier. It was named one of the best streets in Boston last year, and the homes are large, old, and nice to look at. Mt Vernon also offers a nice descent into the mile 1 mark, which is usually just when I start to feel good.

I pass the public library, hit the light and cross, and head up aptly named Bellevue Street. Bellevue is another one of those streets with a lot of large homes on big lots; old houses, with leaded glass windows and immaculate yards. It’s not as nice as some of its neighboring streets, but it offers another nice hill to climb before levelling out, then ascending again. Before the big ascent up to Bellevue Hill Park, I bail and loop around to the parkway, turning left. The parkway is a large divided expanse of road. Fine homes line either side, with large, sloping lawns, and even more grass to makeup the parkway itself. I hit mile 2 just before the parkway, run a couple of up and downs before crossing Centre St and heading back in the direction of my house, only several blocks over.

From Centre, I continue up the parkway, past the Holy Name Cathedral & school, up another steep but short hill, hit mile 3, and then descend down to the second parkway on my route. This parkway is darker, with huge old trees lining both sides, and the interior section, of the road. It is dark & cool here, and if it were not for the noise of the traffic, it would be a perfect place to run. I have to watch my step as the roots have buckled the sidewalk (and this is the only part of my run where I take to the sidewalk for more than 25 yards), but if it is light outside, it’s fine, even for someone as uncoordinated as myself.

The parkway here is pretty flat and I coast along until I have to head back uphill towards my house. It is here that I always, no matter how good a run I am having, begin to feel tired. There is no shade once I leave the parkway. I’m running uphill on a street with cars flanking both sides. The homes aren’t as nice to look at. I really just want the hill to be over.

And soon it is, and I’m rounding the corner (up another stupid little hill, g*d*mmit) to my house. I slow to a walk and count down the houses, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Bo hears me coming through the gate, begins to whine, and tries to contain himself at the back door. When I open the screen he dashes out and does his funny little hops, wanting to jump on me but knowing that he’s not allowed. I grab his leash from inside the door and take him for a walk, my face beet red, sweating, and start to cool down. Good or bad, my miles are in.