In the Long Run: Injury

Another fascinating tale in the continuing saga of documenting mine and Triple T's weekly Long Runs.

Injuries are a bitch.

Because I lost* all my races last year due to injury (Hip Flexor and then Plantar Fasciitis), I decided to go about my training this year by doing something I've never done before: Actually listening to my body.

I'll admit, a lot of my previous success was due to the fact that I used to ignore any pain or discomfort and plow through the miles as best I could. After all, when you've just ran 13.1 miles your body is supposed to hurt a bit, right? The sad fact is that this isn't the naivete of a youthful teenager, this was me at 35 acting young, dumb, and full of...well - you know.

The fact that I used to treat stretching like it was some sort of fad that "only hippies did" and believed the term "cool down" didn't apply to me, meant that I shouldn't have been surprised when my first injury hit. I must have had some bad karma going on at that time, because right after the Hip felt better, the Foot went to shit.

Only someone who has had Plantar Fasciitis can appreciate the pain and discomfort involved. When Triple T mentioned that she had it in her left foot, I swear I had sympathy pains in my right. I equate it to childbirth or getting kicked in the nuts - it's easy to shrug off if you've never experienced the pain, but once you have you never want it again. (Although the Wife did want another after the first child, while I have never chosen to be kicked in the nuts a second time. I think that means I win.)

I completed my run before Triple T did hers - and to be honest, it went great. The only issue I had was that with Triple T's injury looming large in my mind, every time my right foot gave any sort of twinge I immediately went into panic mode and started planning my post run stretch and sweating whether or not I'd be running my Half.

It wasn't as bad a distraction as you may have thought - I found out that when you are paying so much attention to your feet, time just flies by, and before I knew it, I was done.

Afterwards I stretched like I was planning on attempting advanced yoga or going to an orgy - I'm sure I sweated more on that mat than I did during the run.

It was a lot like this. Minus the hat, and with pants on.

Fear is a great motivator for thoroughness.

My foot and hip feel fine now - no issues at all. I'm hoping Triple T's run was the same - You can check her out here.

Stay safe, people - listen to your body.

Except when it says to order extra banana peppers on your sub, Just ignore it - the flavor's great, but you'll pay for it in the long run, if you get my drift..







Later.

*By "lost" I mean pussied out and did not enter. Injury prevented me from training properly, and if I was going to go and fail, I wasn't going to play. (This would be the running equivalent of taking my ball and going home.) Classy, eh?

Bowlfull.

My cup - er, bowl runneth over. Ewwww,

The youngest started throwing up halfway through dinner at the restaurant tonight.

Those of you who have kids know how awesome that can be. For those of you that don't have kids, fuck you - your cat coughing up a hairball does not relate in any way.

He kept doing it periodically on the drive home, and was almost back to normal until we got him home and situated on the couch. He was so tired from swimming and other things we did today that he was upchucking while half asleep.

Yeah, I know - it's about as nasty as it sounds.

Since the Wife has to work early in the morning, I've taken it upon myself to be out here with him -  watching him while he sleeps, making sure he hits the bowl when he does bring something up, and of course, clean up duty.

It's 2am now, I've been up since 6 (damn me and my early rising) and I can tell you - I'm fucking tired.

But he looks so peaceful sleeping right now that it's all worth it.

Even when he grinds his teeth right before he hurls.






Later.

Saturday Science Class.

So -  I'm at home with the Boys today, and we are killing time before we go to the Pool and then my Parent's place for Dad's Birthday. (They know about the latter because we just made Birthday cards, but are unaware of the former 'cause that's my surprise for the day.)

I stumbled across this thread on Reddit (I find Reddit as interesting as others find Pinterest - I guess it's just the nerd in me.) and thought that trying an experiment or two with the boys would be great to pass the time.

We did this trick:

 And it worked out pretty cool.

We didn't get as elaborate effects as the video shows, but I think that's due to my inexperience with the experiment, the low fat content of the milk we use, and the fact that neither the Boys or I are currently using LSD.

I'm not going to tell the Wife I wasted food for entertainment, because I don't think she'll take "Science!" as an answer, and if if I started babbling on about how wasting essential dairy products showed the Boys all about surface tension and how soap works at breaking down fats, she'd slip into a coma and we'd never get her back.

So let's just keep it between us, Ok?

I was really tempted to try this really cool experiment involving cornstarch, water, food coloring, and a stereo speaker:

But my terror at inadvertently creating a sentient being and possibly messing up the house any more than I already have today made me re-think the whole thing. (That and I don't think I could rip our subwoofer apart and have it back together before she got home.)

Maybe next week.





Later.

Twisted Innuendo.

Just got these in at work today:

 

All I can say is that with all that twisting, licking, and dunking, Mr. Christie's secret ingredient must be Viagra.

Anyone want a cookie?

Later.

Customer Dissatisfaction.

Dear Valued Customer,

Thank You.

No really, thank you.

Thanks for making my experience serving you the highlight of my week. I know you may be amazed to hear that you surpassed events like my sweet 7 mile run or the cool picture that my youngest made for me in kindergarten, but you did.

The fact that you were on your phone and talking away as I opened a cash register to help you should have clued me into your greatness.  It must have been extremely important business because you were on there for almost the entire transaction.

You know, the transaction where I:

• unpacked the basket you had just thrown on the carousel, since removing your items would have been an interruption to the world-shaping conversation you were having.

•  made sure to remove and properly ring in the coupon that you obviously wanted, because you waggled your pork-sausage-like finger in its general direction.

•  politely waited for a break in the conversation to tell you the total, at which you glared at me like I charged you double.

•  informed you that yes, it did include the coupon you had indicated.

•  watched as you put down your phone, dug through your purse, and held out a crumpled wad of bills.

• didn't say anything as you pulled that hand back, sneezed into it and then handed me the germ-covered currency.

• didn't leap over the counter and stab you when you proceeded to sneeze again, directly into my face, because you were on your phone again. I get how contaminating me is preferable to the glass front on your phone.

So once again, thank you.

I have now realized that no matter what else I encounter in my life, be it a raging horde of emancipated fecal-covered midgets or someone breaking wind while I'm behind them in a race, nothing will phase me again.

Because today I met you.

God bless.*

Your Customer Service Specialist,
Me.








Later.
*By God bless, I mean fuck you, you stupid bitch. 

The Peril of Pillows and Sheets.

I did the worst thing ever this morning.

Got up, ran, did my weight workout, even had a tan. I then went home, made coffee, got the kids up, fed 'em, dressed 'em, and whisked them away to school.

Wait - it gets worse.

The Wife was still asleep, so I proceed to crawl back into bed, snuggled up behind her, and promptly fall asleep. Again. For at least an hour - maybe an hour and a half.

I'm paying for it now.

This morning I was feeling wonderful and energetic - now I'm at work feeling like a lethargic sack of crap. I'm not dumb enough to blame it on the Wife, so instead I'm assigning all blame to the sheets and pillows.

It's their fault.

If they would have been scratchy and itchy, we wouldn't have this problem. I wouldn't have even contemplated getting back onto bed. But nooooooo - they have to be soft and warm and crisp and inviting and it's their fault that I'm so fucking tired right now. I'm sure somehow a rock of crack fell into the dryer - that's the only way to explain the addictive qualities of my bedsheets.

I should have brought something with me to work - a sham, a swatch - so I could nap on my last coffee break. Just a fix to get me through the rest of the shift. I don't need it - I could quit cold turkey anytime I want - I just think a little hit to perk me up will make the day go so much smoother.

There should be a 12-step program for getting out of bed.

And I'd like to skip at least 11 steps.

Fucking pillows - they'll get you every time.




Later.

Booked & Paid For.

There's no turning back now.

Moments ago I entered my credit card number online and bought a midget paid for my Races.

One thing the Wife and I have always done with the kids is stress the point that once something's paid for, you're seeing it through until the end. Want to join soccer/hockey/swimming/karate? No problem - we'll find the cash to make it happen.

But know this - once we've paid for the registration/equipment/whatever, you are going to attend and participate no matter what. The moment you decided that you want to be a part of the team or event, you have an obligation to them (and to yourself) to be there and to try your best every time. (We gave them the exception of "I just lost a limb", but so far no takers.)

If it's good enough for the kids, it's good enough for me.

Don't let the logo fool you - it's a big island.

So now I'm 26 days away from the Comox Valley Half Marathon and 40 from the Merville 15K. They're paid for - the bibs are probably being printed as I type this.

There's no way that I can get out of this without sacrificing a leg or some other equally important appendage. Not that I'd want to - right now I feel great, and except for the fact that I had a dream about hills last night, I'm confident that I'm going to do well.

I guess now I just have to keep training and wait.

Oh yeah - and I have to pay the credit card bill next month, too.

That will probably be more painful than the races.





Later.