Starbucks, Heatstroke, Goals & Responsible Behavior

One of the neighbors scared the crap out of me on my run the Sunday before last. I started out on my normal route because I really missed what I affectionately refer to as my ”stretching post”. Really it’s a stop sign on the corner that’s close enough to the curb that I can hold onto it and do calf raises and leg stretches before I set off on the first part of my run.

I almost had a heart attack when I saw a shadow moving in my peripheral vision. I looked all around me quickly and I stumbled a little (no coordination+being startled does not equal a balanced Jamie), not seeing anyone. I had images (hello too much Criminal Minds) of someone sneaking up behind me bent on throwing me in a shady white van or worse. (I’m not overly-dramatic or anything).

Not seeing anyone I finally looked up and realized one of the neighbors was on top of her motorhome, cleaning it. That’s where the shadow came from. I think I scared her as much as she scared me. She was grasping her chest with a rag in her hand like I startled her. I mean, granted I had just started running, but I am not a quiet runner. My lungs like to make it known how much they struggle, so they wheeze and whistle sometimes in addition to the huffing and puffing, plus I know my footfalls are not quiet. The one time I ran without music I felt like I sounded like a buffalo plodding down the street. Plus from her vantage point, she had a birds eye view of the whole street.

Hoping she hadn’t seen me frantically looking around for a serial killer and tripping over my own feet, I sheepishly waved at her, said ”Good morning!” and ran off. I’m pretty sure she waved back but I was too busy watching where I was going to know for sure.

It really is getting too hot to run outside anymore. Either I need to start running on the dreadmill at the gym, or I need to start getting up at the butt crack of dawn to run. My weather app said it was only 72 degrees when I got out of bed, but it felt way hotter than that as I ran into the blazing sun.

That run was much better than the one prior. It was still a slow run because it felt like the heat was pressing down on me, trying to keep me from going too fast. Instead of trying to beat my time, and based on how much I struggled with the decision to actually run, I decided to just do 1:30sec intervals with 1:00 walking between. I felt accomplished just putting my running clothes on.

I had kind of been feeling like crap all week. I don’t know if I was just feeling run down because it’s the end of the school year, or maybe I was trying to catch the stomach bug that seemed to be going around, or if my stomach didn’t like the reintroduction of one of my favorite Starbucks drinks. I felt slightly nauseated almost every day last week and my stomach was just really bloated. Like I looked about 7 months pregnant bloated. I hate that feeling. Both the nausea and the bloating actually, but I hate feeling bloated more than anything. I always want to take a pin and stick it in my stomach to see if it will pop.

My favorite Starbucks drink during the hotter months is the Strawberry Açaí Refresher, sans the strawberries. I’m not a fan of freeze dried fruit to begin with, but there is something about those red chunks floating around and possibly getting sucked up into a straw that just absolutely grosses me out. So I always order it without the fruit. There is something about it that just seems so refreshing to me and it was a nice change of pace from my normal unsweet black tea that I normally get in the morning before school.

Starbucks Strawberry Açaí refresher sans strawberries

I don’t know if there is something in there that my stomach doesn’t like or if it’s a coincidence, and my stomach is just a jerk. I stopped drinking them last summer because I felt like my stomach was worse when I drank them, but again I have to think, is it my stomach or the drink itself? I’m not going to drink any for a week or so to see how I do and then on a ”good” stomach day I will drink one and see what happens. My family gives me grief about all of my weird food ”experiments” but it’s the only way for me to figure out what to avoid without cutting everything out completely. Of course if I could get an actual stomach diagnosis, that would be great.

One of the best movies!

Sorry…I got a little off track with all the stomach talk. I think the overall feeling of crapiness (that consequently led to me not eating great) contributed to my slowness. I have not been kind to my body the last two weeks. Between not sleeping, not eating well and the overall ickiness I’ve been living with, I think my body is finally starting to get pissed off at me. I know it’s so important to sleep and fuel correctly when running, but I’m just doing everything I can to survive the end of the school year right now so it is what it is. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop running-I kind of need that for my sanity right now.

As I ran I thought about school. It’s been an interesting couple of weeks. We have a little less than a week left and I wonder what other interesting things we have in store for us. I have discovered in recent weeks that junior high kids get a little restless towards the end of the year. I love my school, I am honestly so glad I moved to middle school, I feel like this is where I’m supposed to be, but to be honest some days it’s a veritable shit show. I really need to start writing all the things down that kids say and write a book. I have some great ones from when I taught elementary school, but junior high kids are a lot more inventive and colorful with their language.

As I continued to run with the sun beating down on me, I tried to distract myself from the fact that I was sweating so profusely it was running down my face and into my eyes, making them sting. I’m honestly shocked that I didn’t cause myself bodily harm (based on how graceful I am…not) by falling down or running into something because I felt half blind for most of my run. I focused on the music and tried to ignore the fact that I was drenched and probably losing most of my body hydration.

It was so hot (have I mentioned that it was a little hot?) and there were no sprinklers, hoses, or yards with irrigation in sight. I would happily have taken my shoes off and splashed through some irrigation water had it been available. I would have even taken someone just throwing a bottle of water on me at that rate. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been that hot while running. I felt like my face was melting off and my feet were getting stuck in the melting asphalt. I am 100% overdramatizing of course, but it was really hot.

I have come to the conclusion that 4 miles is now my long run. I ran it by ”accident” a few weeks ago, and now I feel like anything less is just dumb when I know I can do 4 miles. I mentally played tug-o-war between just cutting it off at 3 miles because it was so hot, or continuing on, but the side of me won that said, ”That’s dumb it’s only one more mile.” So I pushed on despite the headache that I could feel forming and the fact that I could feel my pulse was pounding both in my head and behind my eyes.

The last few weeks I had been pushing myself a little past the 4 miles. I keep thinking I have to set records every week with my Garmin. Today was not the day for that. As I got closer to my house, I saw that I was only 2 tenths of a mile from the 4 mile mark and realized for the sake of my health (and melting brain), I probably should call it quits. I proceeded to run halfway up my block and back (I tried to sprint but the heat just sapped out any extra energy I had). When I hit that magic mile marker and my Garmin recognized it by vibrating it on my wrist I stopped. I just stopped. A dead stop. Normally I jog to slow down and walk around a little to cool off. There was none of that. I stopped still and just stood in the middle of the road and briefly felt like I was going to vomit. I took some deep breaths, used my shirt to try and wipe the sweat that was still dripping into my eyes, and slowly headed home. Luckily I was only like 15 feet from the front door when I stopped.

When I first walked in the door I thought about just going up to my room and sitting in front of the fan, but I knew I needed to go stretch. As I trudged out back I realized how spent I felt. I basically collapsed in the spot where I usually stretch, even with the sun beating down on me. I probably laid there for about 10 minutes before I did anything.

Not a cute picture, but you can see how hot I was!

I did my post-run stretches grudgingly, but I knew if I didn’t, I’d be miserable later. Then I dragged myself upstairs, turned on my fan and chugged a whole bottle of water. I laid down on my bed and my cat came to join me. She either liked how warm I was, or she was telling me she was proud of me for getting out there. I can never tell with her, she doesn’t say much.

Sammy wanted to give me cuddles while I was trying to cool off.

When I finally cooled off enough to function, I checked my Garmin app to see how I did. I obviously didn’t hit any speed or distance goals, but I did hit my personal goal of knocking down mile three to get my negative splits! I was so excited!

Negative splits!

I was ecstatic that I had accomplished my personal goal. I’d been trying to work on that for a few weeks now, but mile 3 kept beating me. I was over the moon that I was able to achieve this goal, even though it wasn’t one of my better runs.

I had planned to see if I could do that again on my next run, just to see if it was a fluke or not. I woke up early this last Sunday morning. 6am. On my one day to sleep in. That’s how determined I was to run this week. My goal in getting up that early was to beat the heat. I figured I could do my normal Sunday routine, groceries for school, pick up grandma’s groceries, sort out her medicine, do laundry, run errands, etc. and then take a nap mid-day. I don’t like taking naps on school days because I know I’ll be up all night and I won’t get enough sleep for school. If I did happen to nap, I figured it would be worth it in this case if I was able to go for a run.

Apparently that was not in the cards for me though. My back has been doing weird things all week. Not my back per-se, but my right shoulder blade. I don’t know how to quite describe it. There wasn’t really any one thing that set it off, I don’t remember twisting funny, picking something up that was too heavy, or getting into any accidents without my knowledge.

It started last Monday. It almost feels like when you get pins and needles in your feet or hands, but in my shoulder blade. Or like if you’ve ever been to a chiropractor and they’ve used a tens unit on you and maybe turned it up too high…like that. Occasionally it will feel like someone is digging their finger into my shoulder blade, and every once in a while it’s like someone is snapping a rubber-band onto my back. Sometimes it’s burning, sometimes it feels like someone squirted me with cold water and I get a weird sensation of something cold flowing down my back. It’s going up into my neck too.

Also the fingers on my right hand keep going numb. Actually I’m pretty sure the whole hand is going numb. It went so numb, that on Thursday morning I was trying to straighten my hair before school and I dropped my straightener. I had gone to bed with semi-wet hair the night before and it was a hot mess in the morning. I have natural waves that some people think are ”beachy”, I just think it looks like I didn’t do anything with my hair. I generally straighten it every day, unless there is a special occasion and then I curl it.

True story

When I picked up my straightener it was working perfectly fine. For like a minute. Then it made this sad electronic noise and turned itself off. I was already running behind schedule and was not in the mood to deal with electrical issues. I tried everything, turning it on and off, unplugging it and plugging it back in, flipping the reset button off and on, waiting for 10 minutes and then trying everything I had already tried once-again. Like giving it a break was going to give it enough energy to start up again or something. It would power on for a few seconds and make this sad little noise like when you lose a life in an old-school video game like Donkey Kong or Mario Bros. and then it would turn off. I finally gave up and had to curl my hair.

As bad as my morning started I had more compliments from students that day. One boy who barely speaks up in class said, ”Wow Miss (that’s what they call me), you look really pretty today and your clothes are nice too.”. I must look like a big scrub every other day of the week judging by the other positive comments I received on my appearance.

Anyway, back to the matter at (numb) hand. In the mornings it isn’t too terrible, but by the end of the evening I can hardly stand it. By nightfall it feels as though someone is poking me with an icepick or something equally uncomfortable. I have to try to contort myself into weird shapes to try to find a comfortable position that doesn’t hurt. Based on everything I’ve said, the majority of the people I’ve talked to this week (of course none have an MD after their names) have told me it sounds like I have a pinched nerve.

Looks like the chiropractor and perhaps a few massages are in my future. I don’t mind the thought of regular massages, but the last time I went to a chiropractor (over two years ago), he adjusted me and I got an immediate migraine that lasted for days and was nauseated for like a week afterwards. I really don’t want to experience a repeat of that. I’ll have to call tomorrow and try to make an appointment for Friday maybe. Thursday is our last day of school with kids and Friday is a teacher work day. If my stuff is done and my classroom is relatively put away, I’m pretty sure I can leave a little earlier than normal to get to my appointment if I can get one. Considering this post is so late and has sat in my drafts box, I already went to the chiropractor, but that’s a story for another post!

I knew when my alarm went off that morning that I probably shouldn’t go for a run. My back was immediately doing the pins and needles thing and I had to roll over to get out of bed rather than just sitting up like a normal person. But my brain was screaming at me to GO RUN! So I got up and started getting ready. It didn’t bother me getting dressed. Not even when I had to wrestle myself into my sports bra. I thought for sure that would make it flare up or set it off or whatever, but I was good to go. By 6:25 I was out the door, stretching and getting ready to set off.

As I walked to my normal stretching corner, my back started bothering me again. I kept telling myself it was fine though and I’d be able to run no problem (runner denial). I stopped and stretched as per my usual and then set off at a slow pace. I seemed to do okay while running. When my interval timer went off and I slowed down to a walk, my shoulder started acting up even more. I tried to keep a slow pace in hopes my shoulder would loosen up and I’d be okay, but every time I stopped to walk, it hurt worse. It started feeling like something was torn in my shoulder. I know that’s not the case because I’d be in a lot more pain, but it’s hard to put into words exactly how it felt.

I decided to call it a day after a mile. I probably could have kept running. It hurt, but I didn’t feel like I was dying. I’m still trying to be responsible and listen to my body. There is no sense in making it worse by pushing myself, especially without knowing exactly what’s going on with it. As aggravated as I was about stopping early, I didn’t think of it as quitting so much as future-proofing my running. Ensuring that I won’t have to stop running semi-long term to deal with some dumb injury. I’m definitely calling and making an appointment with a chiropractor tomorrow. I’m sure they will tell me if I need a regular doctor or if they can help with whatever is going on.

It’s sad how small this block of time is. (And how slow) My goal is to get my ish together in the next few weeks. I want to get the all clear that running is not going to make my back worse, then I will start running on the dreadmill during the week for my ”short” runs and continue to get up early for my long runs on the weekend if my schedule allows. Since my second job is so accommodating to my school schedule during the summer months I open up my availability completely so they can work me as needed. It’s hard to get a regular routine that way, but I’m not complaining. I love working there, or I wouldn’t still be there almost 5 years later.

And since I didn’t take the obligatory running pictures today (did it even happen if there is no photographic proof??) I will leave you with this:

I wish my body would come together and stop making it hard for me to do what I want running wise!

PS As I left to go pick up dinner that night the sprinklers came on. I decided what the hell, they’ve been elusive on my runs of late, so I took full advantage and ran through them! I’m sure the neighbors thought I was nuts-but it was fun!

Running Slow, Just Missed It & Life Finds a Way

Last Sunday’s run was brought to you by blood, sweat and tears.

I planned on getting up earlier than I did. As it was I still got up at 7. I have just been so tired and stressed out lately. I can’t tell if I need to go to the doctor, sleep for a week, or have several drinks (maybe all of the above). As it was, when I finally dragged myself out of bed (looking like something my cat coughed up) and got dressed. it was already 85 degrees. I knew if I didn’t go though I would regret it.

I didn’t realize how hot it was until I got outside. I didn’t sleep well last night and I could feel the oppressive weight of the heat and my exhaustion as I trudged out of the front door. I decided spur of the moment to go a different route than the norm. I was crabby and the thought of running the same route I normally run just pissed me off, so I changed it up.

I started off with my normal warm up routine. As I stood in the driveway, I glared at the sun. I was already starting to sweat and I was pissed off because I hadn’t even done anything yet. I then went into my 5 minute warm up walk. When I follow my normal route, towards the end of the walk there is a stop sign right near the curb that I hold on to so I can do some calf raises. I’m not talented enough to be able to do them without falling unless I hold onto something. I didn’t have this luxury on the route I took this morning so I just stepped into the street and tried to do some stretches that way and promptly slid off the curb and scraped my shin. Lovely. I wanted to go back home, jump back into bed and pull the covers up over my head.

Against my better judgement, I didn’t call it quits and set off on a slow pace. I could almost immediately tell it was going to be a hard run. I had wanted to experiment and see if I could get that third mile down as far as negative splits, but I was sure that was not going to happen. I contemplated (again) just turning around and going home but I told myself that was not an option and I needed to just move, no matter how slowly it was going to be.

The new route was a nice change of pace, but it was so boring. There wasn’t anything fun to stop and take pictures of. Or maybe I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to look for the beauty around me.

I ran by a fire house (no cute firefighters hanging around outside-darn) and right after the fire house there is an incline that leads to the freeway overpass. That sucker looked pretty daunting to me, so I chose to cross the street right before the incline and then double back. I was barely getting through my run so I figured running up that incline would end in disaster. By then I almost had my first mile under my belt so I thought I’d run my normal route (partially) in reverse.

I couldn’t believe how tired I felt while running. For goodness sake I yawned while I was in mile two. That was 100% not okay. I know it was a combination of not sleeping well the night before and the heat, but I was getting pissed off at how tired I was. After every interval I was ready to throw in the towel but I’d tell myself again that was not an option and force myself to keep going.

Life finds a way

I figured if those flowers could find a way to grow despite the concrete and asphalt, I could finish my run. I plugged on for another mile, but I never really felt that ”waking up” feeling that I usually get after my first mile. Every mile I ran today felt like the first one, and I just couldn’t shake my lethargy.

I just missed the sprinklers apparently

I told myself I’d quit after 3 miles. That’s basically how I got myself though mile 3, was promising myself I was almost finished, then I could go home and shower and relax. 3 miles has been my norm since I started running again. 3 miles was my magic number. When I hit three miles though, I was still pretty far from home, because with varying my route I wasn’t paying attention to where I was actually going. (Insert theatrical deep sigh here). I figured I could just walk the rest of the way home, but then I talked myself into running because my logic was that I would get there faster if I ran. As I neared the house, I was over 3.5 miles. With me ”accidentally” running 4 miles last week, I knew I had it in me so again (even as tired as I was) so I pushed myself for that last half mile. I reran part of my route which actually took me out a little farther than 4 miles. I need to start planning my routes better apparently because I always end up running more than I initially intend.

My legs were completely dead when I finished. I’m talking like cinderblocks strapped to the feet type of feeling (or what I imagine cinderblocks would feel like strapped to the bottom of your feet). But for the last tenth of a mile I made myself sprint. I pretended like the corner had a finish line and I needed to flip on my afterburners to zoom across and finish strong.

When I got home the air conditioner wrapped her fingers around my sweaty self and it felt like heaven. I just sat on my bed, staring off into space for like 10 minutes as the AC cooled me off. I managed to do some half-assed stretches before I jumped into the shower, which also felt like heaven.

I will conquer that third mile one of these days! I ran a lot slower than my norm (which is slow anyway) but I’m okay with it because at least I got out there and did it. I felt accomplished for that reason alone.

Also here is a picture of my cat stepping on my foot. She has always done this when I’m getting dressed and I think it’s the funniest thing. I will move my foot away and she always follows me and puts her back foot on top of mine. She especially likes to do it after I’ve taken off my running shoes. I think she likes my sweaty feet…

The Only Thing That’s Been Running is My Apple TV (and my nose)

Okay so that’s a little bit of a lie. I did run for a short time on Tuesday at the gym. It was starting to get unseasonably cold and windy (for Arizona) and rather than freeze my tushy off, I opted to hit the treadmill instead.

Running on a treadmill and photography don’t mix

I just ran about 2.5 miles with my Ease into 5K app. I should’ve known something was going on internally because it was a really difficult run. I thought maybe it was unfamiliar equipment (new gym for me-story for a different post), or the fact that I’ve only been running on the road lately. Plus I just abhor running on the treadmill. It’s SO boring. Luckily I was able to get a treadmill that faced a window so I could watch the giant paloverde tree in front of me bend and twist in the wind. It was like an elegant dance choreographed by Mother Nature. It was entertaining for a little while. Instead of trying to get a picture of myself running on the treadmill, perhaps I should’ve snapped a picture of the gray sky that was unusually thick with clouds. It made me cold just looking at it. Just for giggles, I went and sat in the dry sauna for about 8 minutes to get rid of the chill that had invaded my body. I also tried out the wet sauna just to experience it. I looked like a drowned rat in about 30 seconds. I think I like the dry sauna better.

I was feeling a little run down on Monday and Tuesday of this week, but thought it was just because we are 3 weeks away from spring break (the end of the 3rd quarter!) and in desperate need of a break. I had actually just expressed the fact that I’d love to have a day off from both jobs where I don’t have to go grocery shopping, do lesson plans, do anything for anyone else, or pretty much just leave the house. I wanted to just lay in bed all day and read or watch movies and stay in my pjs all day. After spending the last 3 days in bed, I’m totally over that desire now.

I woke up Wednesday morning, a very important day as I was to sit on a committee to help interview potential candidates to replace my principal of 10 years (who is retiring at the end of the school year) with a nose that couldn’t decided if it wanted to be stuffed up or run. I figured okay, our weather here in Arizona has been giving people whiplash with all of its ups and downs, no big deal, it’s probably allergies. Everything is blooming. I had just looked out into my neighbors yard when I got home from the gym Tuesday evening and saw one of their trees covered in white blossoms and knew they’d be starting up soon. Allergies on my mind, I stopped at the store on the way to our district offices and picked up a few boxes of tissues.

I made it though the interviews (and a full box of tissues) and went out to dinner with two of my friends from school who were on the committee with me. By the end of that dinner, my head was pounding, my nose was hurting, and I was beginning to swallow razor blades. I decided to head for school and do sub plans just in case I felt worse in the morning instead of better. I hate doing sub plans. I’m not one of those teachers who just gives my kids busy work and leaves a skeleton lesson plan for an under-qualified substitute. I always hope for the best that I will be assigned a substitute who loves what they do as much as I do, and who wants to do their best for the kids they will be sharing for the day. So in other words, it usually takes me about two hours to write sub plans because I literally put every aspect of our day in there including behavior expectations and expectations for specials, transitions, and routines. I also wrote my kids a note on the whiteboard letting them know why I was out.

Seriously

The next day my alarm went off at my normal school day time at 5:30am and I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. There was no way I was going in to school. I was so thankful I had done lesson plans the evening before. Thursday passed in a blur as I basically slept all day with maybe 15-20 minute increments of wakefulness in between. It was a day I would normally have enjoyed having a lazy day in bed. It rained steadily all day and the high didn’t go above 43 degrees. I was all warm and cozy in my sweats, two blankets, thick socks and long-sleeved shirt, but I was bundled up because my body was wracked with chills from whatever bug had attacked my immune system rather than the freaky weather that was pounding Arizona.

I woke up again the next morning feeling like I was swallowing razor blades. I really didn’t want to leave my kids with a sub again, as rainy day schedules are not fun, but I knew I wouldn’t do them (or myself) any good coming to work. The school rule is “24 hours fever free” for both students and staff. I was still running a fever of 101 so I figured I should stay home again rather than give the gift of germs back to my students. I happened to wake before my alarm, so I grabbed my thick coat and drove to school at 5am to do lesson plans again. I probably shouldn’t have driven myself as my head was so stuffed up, everything felt lopsided and I was dizzy. But being the strong independent woman that I am (ha!) I had no one to take me so I had to do it myself.

I managed to do lesson plans in an hour and a half this time instead of two hours because I used the structure of the plans from the day before and just changed the activities and the specials. Friday was supposed to be my easy day anyway because I have PE in the morning and then we had a makeup orchestra lesson at 12:30 (which about 3/4 of my class goes to) and then because it was “B” week, I had art for an hour at the end of the day. As I headed home it really struck me the odd weather we were having. The roads were so full of water and out toward the east under the emerging light of the rising sun, I could see snow on the Superstition Mountains. If you’re from Arizona, you know this is a rare occurrence. If you’re not from Arizona, just imagine that this time if year we are usually already in the mid-80’s temperature wise. Odd for sure.

Unfortunately my classroom did not get assigned a substitute. My Title One specialist and our part-time school counselor had to tag-team my class all day. They rotated in and out all day long to ensure my kids were being taken care of and taught what they needed to be. I was so grateful. I later found out that our art teacher was out with no sub as well, so the Title Specialist had to sub for her as well. She ended up doing double duty with my kids.

I felt SO guilty. Now that I’m working a retail job in addition to my teaching job, I see such differences in the way the two professions are not only viewed, but in the basic workings. For example, if I call in sick at my retail job (which of course I had to do if I wasn’t able to teach all day), they take me off the schedule. I don’t have to drag my ass in there all disheveled and prep whomever is taking over for me. If I call in sick for my classroom, I have to make sure my kids are taken care of, I have to make sure someone is there for them and then I have to write down in detail every aspect of our day, the inner-workings of my classroom, where we are academically and the flow of our day. There is a big difference between the two. I know one is retail and one is education, but it still amazes me that there is such a big divide between the world of education and everything else.

I ended up going to urgent care on Friday due to the fact that I was still running a fever and still felt terrible. The doctor told me she couldn’t prescribe me anything as I’d already had it for several days. She said she was pretty sure it was a mild case of the flu (thank God for that retail job that had a flu shot clinic in October). I’d hate to imagine what a full dose of the flu would have felt like.

Today is Saturday, as the day has progressed I’ve started to feel better. It’s almost like the reverse of Wednesday. My nose is no longer running, I can actually hear out of both of my ears, and I don’t feel like I’ve swallowed razor blades anymore. Maybe I feel like I’ve smoked two packs of cigarettes (I don’t smoke in real life by the way-my lungs are already tortured enough by my love of running) but no more razor blades. My kitty has been keeping me very good company and laying on my pillow as I snort and snuffle through my days. Today I actually got up to shower (it was needed) and it felt so amazing. Of course it wore me out, so it was back to bed right after that. I have spent the day with my Apple TV. I’ve been flipping between Netflix, Hulu and movies on iTunes.

I’m ALMOST finished watching the Harry Potter movies (remember I’m a nerd?) This school year I have discovered Harry Potter for the first time. Yes I know, I’m a late bloomer. I figured I should probably read the series since my students are at the right age for it. I fell in love! I’ve now read the series twice. I read it the first time and then started watching the movies. In my infinite wisdom I decided I should re-read the books before watching each movie. I’ve now finished The Deathly Hallows and can’t wait to watch the movies. I will probably attempt to watch the first one tomorrow when I’m (hopefully) feeling so much better that I can stay awake for a whole movie.

Needless to say, no running for me the last 4 days. It’s a good thing this flu bug hit me right at the beginning of my training when taking some time off isn’t going to be a huge detriment to me. I’m crossing my fingers that this weird cough I’ve seemed to develop today, goes away by tomorrow. So far this thing hasn’t gone into my chest. It’s stayed above the neck and that’s where I need it to stay. I DO NOT want this thing to morph into bronchitis. It’s time for me to hit the hay again (I’ve never really understood that expression, but my dad always said that to me and my brother when it was time for bed). Here’s to dreaming about amazing race finishes and fast pace times. Who am I kidding? Here’s to dreaming about breathing successfully through both nostrils.

Running in the Humidity and Sleeping Charley Horses

Wow two blog posts in one school year?? This is a new record! I’m serious about trying to make the effort to post more. I haven’t really had much to post about, plus in all honesty the first month of school consists of long hours, stress, and trying to get back into the swing of things. There is little time for anything else.

I had to drag myself out of the house for my 20 year high school reunion. That’s the most I’ve been out since school started in August. Seriously I need to start making the effort.  20 years?? Now I really feel old! I had a lot of anxiety about going.  Let’s be honest, when am I not anxious these days? I purchased my ticket over the summer at the urging of my cousin and a friend of ours we went to school with. I did it on a whim, but when the time came to actually attend the event I started feeling like I didn’t want to go. I was afraid people wouldn’t remember me, I was afraid people would remember me, I was afraid I wouldn’t have anyone to hang out with… On and on the list of excuses not to go went. I finally decided to go at the urging of two friends I actually attended junior high school with. They told me the only reason they were going was because I had posted about it on Facebook and that I better go so we could see each other. So I went.

To make a long story short, I ended up having  a great time. It was amazing how many people I recognized. I could still see their younger selves shining out through their eyes. Honestly for the most part I think everyone got better with age. Let’s face it, your high school years are pretty awkward physically and emotionally. Everyone at that stage is still growing and maturing. I think we hit our full potential in our 30’s and become who we are supposed to be. We have 20 years of life experience under our belts and those years have shaped us for good or for bad. There are marriages, babies, divorces, deaths, moves, job changes, and other life events that add those fine lines to our faces. Not that we were a bunch of wrinkly old people. I think everyone looked pretty good if I do say so myself!

Anyway back to running…

There isn’t much to report. I’ve run a few times in the morning before school and one afternoon I was feeling pretty spunky and laced up my shoes to run. After having taken so much time off after my surgery I think I did okay. It’s harder than I remember. My extra weight right now certainly isn’t helping. My training “officially” starts in 2 weeks!

Plus…it’s monsoon season in Arizona. That means little rain but a lot of humidity. For us Arizonans who are used to the ‘dry heat’ the humidity does us in. When I try to run in the humidity I feel like I’m trying to run while taking a really hot shower in a steamy bathroom. It gets my asthma going something fierce too. I’ve been having a hard time lately with my breathing. I thought I had been getting better with the addition of some new meds to help loosen up my bronchia, but now I feel like I’m back where I started.  Plus I just turn into a drippy sweaty wad of something that resembles what was once a human.

I have a lot of issues when I run. People ask me why I do it when I’m either struggling to breathe or am in pain. I don’t know how to describe it. Running is my ‘me’ time. I don’t have to worry about anyone else while I’m out there. It’s my 30 minutes to 2 hours (depending on the distance) of time that I get to be selfish, it makes me feel better physically (I know that sounds strange considering my other issues), also when I’m having  bad day lacing up my shoes and heading out to exhaust myself physically helps me mentally as well.

I have recently gotten some passive aggressive grief from people about writing in the blog and the occasional post on Facebook about my runs. Seriously? Why be passive aggressive? Life it too short. Just say what you mean. I don’t write or post to pat myself on the back, or look for praise or accolades. I do it because it’s motivating for me. It helps me stay focused. If I know people are aware that  I’m supposed to be training, I push myself to continue. It helps keep me in check.  If people don’t like it, they can stop following me. A lot of people post crap that drives me nuts, but I don’t unfriend them just because of that. Everyone has their own thing and this jus happens to be mine.  The stuff on Facebook or other blogs I follow that annoys me, I just gloss over. Who am I to say anything about what anyone else posts? It’s my issue, so rather than being snarky about it, I just choose not to read/follow it. Does this make sense?

Funny story…I somehow gave myself a Charley Horse in my sleep the other night around 3am. All I remember is waking up in excruciating pain. My calf muscle was so tight I couldn’t even touch it. I literally had to bite my lip to keep from yelling out. I read somewhere if you “point your heel” it helps loosen the cramp. It was hurting me so much I couldn’t even do that for a full 10 minutes. I was only able to move it a millimeter at a time. When I was finally able to get it pointed all the way down, it was like the sweetest relief I ever felt. Kind of like when a ‘brain freeze’ starts to go away-but better. It’s still hurting me two days later. Most people stretch before they run, I stretch before I go to bed. Leave it to me to give myself a Charley Horse when I’m unconscious.

School Starting and Giant Calves

I decided I should probably write in my blog again…the week before school starts. My timing really has never been very good!  I really need to be better this school year about not staying 12 hours a day and going to work on my classroom on Saturdays or Sundays. Once school gets going, I have a tendency to lose myself in the hustle and bustle of teaching and I forget to have a life outside of school. Thats totally what happened to me last year. I used the excuses of recovering from my surgery and teaching in a new grade level to keep me at school late. 

The more I think about it, I’ve decided  I’ve used these excuses mainly as a way to not acknowledge the fact that my fitness level declined during my 3 month recovery time. I would start working out again and then stop because things at school “got involved” requiring late nights. Of course this just made things worse because when I did decide to finally “get back into it”, it was twice as hard as the time before. I stopped and started several times and always used the school excuse. Sometimes I had legitimate school reasons I couldn’t work out or run and sometimes I just steered my thinking into it being “legitimate”. 

                  
                                           (Forget about even having a social life!)

In hopes of ending that vishous cycle, I signed up for…(drumroll please!) a full-marathon!!!  I need that motivation of training for something. As I write this I am now signed up for several half marathons as well. This means I need to get my ass in gear! 

I started slowly training. When I say slow I’m not kidding either. We are talking no more than a 1-2 mile run at like a 12-13 minute mile pace. Not only did I lose fitness during recovery, but I also gained a few pounds of my weight back during the “I’m-hurting-and-can’t-do-anything-so-I-may-as-well-eat-crap-that’s-not-good-for-me” phase of my recovery. It’s not like I put a ton of weight on, but those extra pounds don’t help with running. If you’re not currently a runner imagine wearing a backpack stuffed with hardcover books, or carrying a brick around while you’re trying to run a mile. It makes everything twice as hard! 

On top of struggling to get back into a routine of running,  I started getting shin splints. I hadn’t gotten shin splints since I first began running. I felt like a novice all over again! I’d take a few days off and they’d feel better so I’d run no more than two miles and then they start bothering me again. It got so bad I went to a sports medicine physician (because a regular doctor would just tell me to stop running altogether-  and we all know THAT wouldn’t fly with me!) several times to get them looked at. I was so paranoid that I had a stress fracture and I was making it worse by continuing to run.  I really should stop diagnosing myself with the help of my pal Google. 

The Doctor examined me first by watching me walk across the room. He also had me doing odd things like jumping on one foot, doing calf raises, and running in slow motion. My X-ray had been clear so he determined my calves are both really tight although the one on my left is worse. He did tell me my left leg is predominately weaker than the right. He suggested stretches, insoles in all my shoes (even more supportive sandals) and physical therapy. I did everything he suggested other than the physical therapy. I tried it, honestly I did, I went to one session. I felt like everything was too easy, the actual physical therapist was too busy to deal with me, and I felt like she blew me off after I mentioned I run. Needless to say, that soured me on physical therapy and I never went back. 

Meanwhile I was still having pain so bad that it would hurt even when I was just sitting there. I finally had a second X-ray and he detected a “shadow” on the bone so he ordered an MRI to make triple sure there was no stress fracture or bone splintering. 
I am embarrassed about my calves. I really and truly am. I have no idea what happened in the last two years but my calves have gotten embarrassingly huge. Either that or my ankles have shrunk to the size of toothpicks. Enter the MRI:

 

Look how big!!! They look like two hamhocks lying in a deli case. Those giant slabs of meat are causing all my problems! My calves didn’t look like this two years ago. I’ve been trying to figure out why they’ve gotten so ginormous, but haven’t been able to find any answers. By the way there is nothing wrong with my right foot. She just had me laying in a really awkward position. By the end of the 45 minutes trapped in a tunnel with crazy noises freaking me out, I could barely move when I hopped down from the table because I wa so stiff and that foot had fallen asleep!  At least that shows I was a good patient and didn’t move the entire time!

Anyway…no stress fracture or anything else suspicious! Yay me! He told me I could resume running but suggested I change my shoes and try something different. He said yes, I did for sure have shin splints and they were pretty severe. Again he told me to stretch, start slowly, and go see a physical therapist. 
Fast forward a few weeks to current, and I have yet to make a physical therapy appointment. Not only do I feel like I don’t have time, but after my last experience I’m wary. I have switched shoes. I went from the uber supportive Asics Gel Kayano’s to the (less-but-still good-) supportive Brooks Ravenna. I ran my last actual race in the Ravenna, and I’ve loved them so I figured why not! I’m still not running as much as I wanted to be at this point, but I’m not having debilitating pain in my shins either. 

I was out and about with some time to kill one day, so I stopped by a new (to me) running store by my old gym (more on THAT later). I went in on a lark and started talking to the gentleman who was working. He himself is an avid runner and has completed numerous half and full marathons as well as several Ironman races. He sat and talked to me about my issues and concerns for about 10 minutes before he even brought any shoes out. 

He brought out about 4 pair in two different brands. Brooks (which I’m very fond of), and Saucony (which I have never worn). He had me put one of each brand of shoe on. He then had me walk across the store while he analyzed my form, and then took me outside and had me run in the parking lot to the other end of the strip mall. I’ve never not run on a treadmill when I’ve tried on shoes before. I can totally see why it’s more beneficial to analyze gait on a surface that will actually be run on versus a treadmill that’s completely and totally artificial. He watched me the entire time and did tell me I’m a mid-foot striker versus a heel striker and that my form is nice. He also said he like the way I use my arms as pendulums at the side of my body rather than cross-crossing in front.

He watched me run and told me which shoe he didn’t like so I took that one off and put another one on. The cycle repeated until we had it narrowed down to two pair. He had me run in both (with both on my feet versus one of each) and I ultimately decided which ones based on how they felt. He said both looked good when I ran, they both supported me equally as well so I went with comfort. I ended up with the Ghost 8. The Ghost has less support than I normally run with, but he thinks part of my problem is I have way too much support going on. On top of that, I had the custom insoles from the usual running store I go to, so I had  double stability which is what is most likely throwing off my gait. 

Look how pretty! 

                              
They are part of the Aurora Borealus collection from Brooks! I haven’t run in them yet, but he told me if I have issues to come back in and they will take care of me.  I’ve never had such a personalized, amazing experience at a shoe store before! I’m actually very excited about trying these bad boys out! He even showed me a bunch of different things I can do to help release all the tension in my calves. I know it sounds corny, but I left that store with a spring in my step and an excitement I haven’t felt for running in a long time! 

So, soon I will begin my training! My goal is to keep writing in the blog as I go. It helps keep me grounded and keep those fears and “I cant’s” from getting in my head and messing with my confidence and my mojo! 

Oh! Here is a picture from when I was running one of my first races:                                         

  (Note the normal girl-sized calves)

And here is a more recent picture:

  (Sorry for the huge picture. I finally gave up trying to shrink it down-maybe the bigger picture gives you more of an idea of the enormity of the calf situation. Pun-totally intended!)

  
What’s up with the size difference in the calves?? This was right before my surgery so I kind of feel like they are even bigger now! Sigh* I know I need to quit whining and embrace the fact that my calves are muscular and I should be proud of that, but it just makes me so self conscious because I feel like now I’m out of proportion…

Hopefully I will be writing more soon! Getting back into the swing of things will be an adventure but I do need it! 

  

 

Surgery Part One

 

The morning of June 6th dawned bright and early. Well actually it dawned the night before because needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep. I was stressing big time about my upcoming surgery and about to call my doctor and tell her I wasn’t going to go through with it. To take my mind off of it, I made sure I had everything packed and ready to go. I double checked everything I thought I could possibly want. Not having ever had to stay in the hospital overnight before, I didn’t know what to prepare for. I am truly an over-packer.

Morbidly enough I wrote out a directive of my wishes too. I don’t know if that’s legal or not, but in case there was any question of “What if?” I wanted my loved ones to know my wishes. They needed to know if preferred cremation or burial, if I wanted life support, who gets my stuff (you know the really important issues).  I really didn’t think anything would go catastrophically wrong, but I have a habit of thinking worst-case-scenario. I feel like preparing for the worst helps ensure the worst won’t happen.

My thoughts exactly!

When I finally came downstairs in the morning I was super crabby. It’s not like I felt the need to be a happy-go-lucky gal like I was going off to enjoy myself at a party or anything, but I was really pissy. About everything. The fact that the sky was blue was grating on my nerves. Don’t even get me started on those damn chirping birds!

My brother had insisted on coming with me to the surgery. He took the day off from work and everything. My aunt was going to drive me and I kept telling him he didn’t need to be there. It really was very sweet of him to want to go. Still, I was irrationally bitchy toward him all morning as we waited to leave for the hospital (we had all gotten up and gotten ready ridiculously early). I kept snapping at him and being snotty. I felt like a cranky three-year old. It’s not that I didn’t want him there…I know I didn’t even want to be there. I don’t know what my problem was!

He kept trying to be supportive and nice to me and it was really bugging me. (Horribly right? That someone dare be NICE to me???) I seriously wanted him to start being mean back to me and he just wouldn’t which annoyed me even more. I know that I was being a brat to him because I needed the outlet for all my angst and my pent-up fear about the surgery; and he was letting me take it out on him which was quasi-heroic (at least in my eyes). Still, to this day I feel bad about my attitude when he was trying to help and be supportive. I’m sure he understands, but my heart hurts a little every time I think of the pained expressions on his face when I would snap at him. Sorry Bubba.

Soon it was time to go, and with my heart pounding out a beat so loud I swore everyone could hear it, I climbed into the car. The ride was pretty uneventful. It was early,  but not so early that we beat rush hour. Luckily for us the hospital was south and it seemed most of the traffic was headed north toward the freeways. We had the occasional hiccup here and there as we neared major intersections. Of course every time we stopped or slowed down I entertained the thought of either opening the door, or rolling down the window and jumping out to make a break for it. I was filled with dread. I don’t even think I was this anxious when I took that flight to Vegas for the race last year!

Before I knew it, we had arrived. I felt as though the hospital was looming over me. Although it’s a newer hospital and very nice and comforting looking (it actually looks like a church from one angle or a really nice hotel from another), I pictured the building as a big monsters head. The windows to the rooms were the eyes and the large entrance with the long porte-cochere was the mouth and tongue that was yawning wide-open to swallow me whole. I was not being the least bit dramatic about it or anything.

We quickly (too quickly), found where we needed to be and before I knew it, I was checked in with one of those high-fashioned hospital bracelets wrapped around my wrist. Actually I had like 3 of those bad-boys on. One had my info, one had a bar code on it, and the other one was to inform the hospital of my blood type in case I would need a transfusion during the surgery. I was hoping that last bit was a precautionary measure they take for every surgery, and not just for mine because it was a surgery that involved a lot of blood loss. During all my research (I really need to not Google things and watch surgery videos on YouTube right before going under the knife), I had not read anything about that being a possibility so I was hoping for the former.

We  barely had time to sit in the waiting room before they were calling me back. It was time to get prepped. As I followed the nurse back to the pre-surgery area my hands started sweating, my mouth got all cottony, and I was feeling light-headed. I looked longingly at the emergency exit and decided if I bolted through that door it would make too much of a scene. The nurse was walking slightly ahead of me, as perky and chipper as could be, chatting away about no particular thing. I could barely hear her due to the sound of the blood pumping in my ears. I actually almost ran into her when she stopped in front of my little assigned bed area.

She had me sit, scanned the bar code on my arm (I am not a number! I am a person!) and then asked me about a billion questions like who I was, what kind of surgery I was having, allergies, etc. Then she took me into the bathroom and gave me a very stylish gown, a cap, and a pair of those socks with the tread on them so you don’t slip around. She also gave me some antibacterial wipes and I was told to wipe myself down with them. They had already made me shower for the three days prior to my surgery with Hibicleanse. She explained to me that with the rise of diseases like MRSA and staph infections, they tried to take every precaution available. Works for me! I didn’t want to end up with one of those icky things on top of everything else, so I gladly wiped myself down one last time.

If you are not familiar with Hibicleanse, it’s an antibacterial wash that they use in hospitals. They also recommend it for people with chronic illnesses, and people who are going to have surgery. It’s supposed to be super-antibiotic and will kill whatever germs you may have lurking on your body. No one bothered to warn me about the color of the Hibicleanse before I used it for the first time. I had bought a small bottle (Apparently a little goes a long way) from the pharmacy at my grocery store. The first night I showered with it, I just popped the cap open and squirted it all over myself. I looked down and nearly fainted. I looked like a scene from the movie Carrie when she was at the prom after they dumped the pig’s blood on her. This stuff was red and was running down my body in rivulets so it looked like I was bleeding profusely. Needless to say, after that first shower I was a little wigged out. I got used to it by the third day-but still (shudder).

After I completed my last round of de-germing myself I donned my beautiful gown and made my way back to my area. I felt so glamorous with the too big gown (gaping severely in the back), the fuzzy grey socks, hair in a sloppy ponytail and no make-up on. As I glided (I couldn’t really sashay in that gown) down the corridor back to my area, I distracted myself from my looming panic for a moment, by visualizing myself walking down a red-carpet dressed in that getup. I even toyed with the idea of doing the ‘elbow-elbow-wrist-wrist’ wave of the beauty queen as I made my way down the aisle (while clutching the gown in the back so not to put on a show).

As soon as I got into the bed on wheels, numerous nurses began to drift in and out of my area. They all asked me the same questions: name, what was I there for, my social security number, etc. They all repeatedly scanned my bar code as well. I guess it made me feel a little better that they were verifying all of my info so much. At first I thought the bar code was for the same thing, but later someone told me they scan the bar code for each thing they do so they can bill the insurance company for it later. That made much more sense!

Soon I was hooked up to an IV (after several unsuccessful attempts-including one that resulted in a big bubble of fluid under my skin. Seeing that freaked me out even more if that was even possible!), I had on a blood pressure cuff, electrodes on my chest,  and they had wrapped these funny compression things around my legs that had tubes sticking out of them. I felt like a patient on Grey’s Anatomy, minus the perfectly done hair and make-up that all the patients on that show seem to come in with. My heart rate went into overdrive and I started wondering how far I could make running it with those things wrapped around my legs.

I was left for a moment with my increasingly erratic and panicked thoughts and they brought my brother and Aunt Kim back to sit with me until it was time to go.

Doesn’t that spiffy blue hair net bring out my eyes? Such a glamorous shot I know!

It’s almost an awkward feeling sitting with people when you are in such a vulnerable position as lying on a gurney and covered in baggy cotton with tubes and wires sticking out of you. At that point I think we were all just nervous and making inane conversation that I don’t really remember. My doctor came by and introduced herself to my brother and aunt, I met the anesthesiologist, a few of the nurses and an orderly. Once again, each of them checked my bands, scanned me and asked a million questions. I wanted to be snarky and ask for a pen and paper so I could just write it all down, but I thought I better be polite to the people who were going to be holding sharp objects and ensuring I kept breathing.

Soon I had to say goodbye to my family. Not before they gave me a shot of what I now think of as the most amazing thing in the world. I can’t remember exactly what it was called (Ativan?). It took about two seconds for that happy juice to hit my bloodstream and I was floating on a cloud made of rainbows, kitten fur, and jellybeans.

All of my anxieties were immediately gone and I just felt…relaxed and happy. I almost didn’t recognize that feeling, it had been so long since I felt relaxed! I could feel a big cheesy grin spread across my face. I wanted to hold on to that feeling, but soon they were wheeling me down the hall and into a very cold operating room (of course I didn’t care that the room was cold after my wonderful shot). I saw my doctor again and she introduced the nurses which I thought was nice. They had me scooch over to another surface (another bed? Another table? Who knows?). It was awkward, the scooching. I felt so relaxed I didn’t even have control over my limbs. I could feel my gown riding up on me, but wasn’t so concerned about it. I figured they’d be seeing a lot more of me than that in a few minutes anyway. They covered me with a heated blanket which banished the cold chill I had gotten from freezing room. With that blanket and my shot I was all warm and cozy and didn’t want to move out of that moment.

The last thing I remember was them putting the big plastic thing over my mouth and telling me to breathe deep. I don’t think they even had me count backwards like I always see them do on T.V. Soon I was out.

 

 

My Hat-Trick and Surgery Decisions

I like hockey. Most women don’t. I think it’s residual from my ex-boyfriend. He was a Redwings fan. Of course now that means I dislike them with a burning passion. I still like hockey though. Mostly when they fight. The game itself is okay. I prefer to go watch in person rather than on TV though. I don’t like the sport of boxing or MMA or wrestling or any of that, but for some reason when I see two guys beating the heck out of one another in a hockey rink, I get a secret thrill.

Thus the term “hat-trick”. That’s the term I use when I refer to my back to back to back races that I did in February/March of this year. The first two I already wrote about. I did the Lost Dutchman Half-Marathon and then Ragnar Del Sol. The week after that I did The Phoenix Half-Marathon. This was my third year in a row doing it. It’s a really good race. I did the inaugural half-marathon, the inaugural full-Marathon the year after and then the half-marathon this year (since I had to drop down from the full because of my weird leg thing).

It was a really good race. Oddly enough my leg didn’t bother me until almost the end of the race. It rained that morning and sprinkled on and off throughout the race. I spent the first mile in a poncho and garbage bag, but quickly became too hot and took it off. It’s a good look, don’t you think?

I thought I would be exhausted after running a half-marathon  and then over half-marathon distance the week after and then running a half again. I was right. I could definitely feel the fatigue in my body. At that point my soul was even fatigued! I saw a few familiar faces during that race. I was absurdly excited every time I saw someone I knew.

I was actually on my way to a new PR oddly enough before my stomach started hurting me really bad. I felt as though I had a huge side-stitch or cramps or something. I hurt but couldn’t quite put a name to the hurt. I decided to stop at one of the porta-potties on the route against my better judgment. I had been drinking a lot of water so I thought maybe I just over drank before the race.

Unfortunately I wasted about 6 minutes standing in a line I didn’t think was too long when I first got in it. It took forever for it to be my turn though. The pain didn’t go away, but I plugged on regardless. I was secretly hoping I could make up the time I just wasted and have a PR anyway.

It didn’t quite happen for me. Between my stomach, my increasing exhaustion and my stubborn leg that decided to start locking up on me the last mile, I didn’t get a PR. I didn’t do too terrible considering.

Not the most glamorous post-race photo but I included it because you can see the tiredness and deliriousness written on my face. I wasn’t even sure I would be able to drive home I was so tired. After meeting up with my friends though, and walking around for a little while, I perked up a little and was able to make it home for the best warm shower and nap. I had been cold to the bone the entire race because I had run in wet clothes from the rain most of the race. It was also windy and below average temps for the day so by the time I got home, a hot shower was definitely on the agenda!

Me and my peeps (I didn’t realize it until just now, but apparently we just naturally arranged ourselves in order of height-kinda. Hahaha.

I don’t know if you can read that but I had it inscribed with “3 in a row. Celebrate EVERY Mile!”

That’s kind of my slogan. I love that. You SHOULD celebrate every mile good or bad. You never know when your last mile, will indeed be the last mile you ever run.

The Saturday after my hat-trick.

After that last race, my stomach started bothering me off and on for no apparent reason. I had an appointment for my yearly checkup at the same doctors office, but with a different doctor than the one who told me I needed surgery. This doctor was amazing. She addressed all my concerns and questions that I had regarding my cysts. She talked with me like a real person and not like I was taking up her time and inconveniencing her. She also explained things to me in a way that made sense.

She told me my current stomach issues were a side effect from my cysts because they kept growing. She could now feel them just by pushing on my abdomen. She was honestly surprised I had no pain in the months prior. I ended up deciding to switch doctors and have her do my surgery. I kind of felt bad about switching doctors. It’s not that I thought the other doctor didn’t know what she was doing, but I felt immediately at ease with this new doctor.

I did tell her I would not be able to have the surgery until after school was out in May. There was no way I could take the required 4 weeks off for recovery at the end of the school year with so much to do. She told me I was on restriction and would not be able to work-out or run at all until the surgery. She also informed me if my pain got worse I needed to go directly to the ER and let them know about my cysts because one could have ruptured or twisted  itself on my fallopian tube.

I was disappointed about being faced with  a lack of a physical outlet, but after telling me everything that could go wrong since I had to wait to have the surgery, a little vacation from exercise didn’t seem so bad. She also told me I needed to avoid lifting anything heavy. I think ‘heavy’ is a little too broad of term. She said anything over 10 pounds. To me that’s not heavy. I was starting to pack up my classroom to move across campus to a new grade level and new building. I am not going to lie. I have a lot of stuff. I tried to take it as easy as I could, but stuff happens as they say.

I’m really not great at asking people for help. I always feel like when I do, I am inconveniencing the other person. So I probably lifted more than I should. I am a very concise packer and needed everything in its place anyway. I started to have more pain in my stomach than before. A lot of people told me I was having the pain because now I was aware that I had an issue. Kind of psychosomatic if you will. I disagree. I just think I was running out of room in my abdomen and the cysts kept growing and everything I was doing was irritating them. Regardless, I felt as though I was in constant pain. Most of the time I tried to mask it so I wouldn’t be told to ‘take it easy’ or that I was ‘doing too much’. I also didn’t want people to fuss over me and make a big deal about it. I was already nervous enough (and getting more nervous by the day), and as long as I pretended everything was okay, everyone left me alone. A few times though,  the sharp pains I was getting had me on my knees. June couldn’t come soon enough.

My First Ragnar

My friend Amber (mybirthwrite.com) texted me saying she was running a Ragnar Relay and she may have a spot on her team if I was open to it. I had wanted to try running a Ragnar since my friend Meredith had run one in the Florida Keys two years before. In Arizona it’s generally the week before the Phoenix Marathon, so the timing has never been right for me. This text came to me literally the day after I received a reply from the race director at Phoenix confirming my move to the half marathon).

Again, feeling like things happen for a reason, I said yes. My logic was that I could do the relay and still be fine for the Phoenix half-marathon the following week. I was super-excited and told Meredith I was finally going to be able to run a Ragnar. She was excited for me, but then brought up the very good point that I would be running Lost Dutchman, Ragnar, and The Phoenix back to back. Three weeks in a row. Still fighting this injury. Smart plan Jamie.

I didn’t want to back out. I needed the distraction so I sucked it up and planned on running all three races. If you don’t know what a Ragnar Relay is I highly suggest you check out their website. http://ragnarrelay.com/race/delsol (this is the link for the Arizona one). It’s an almost 200 mile relay that you run with a group of 4-12 people. (The groups less than 12 are called “ultra” teams and are absolutely insane). This year (I found out the day we started our relay) there was a team of TWO running the relay. TWO people. Seriously?? They were running almost 100 miles each in a two-day time period. Now that is running dedication.

The Ragnar Relay website describes it this way:

“You and 11 of your craziest friends (or 5 of your crazier friends for an ultra team) pile into two vans and tag team running 200(ish) miles, day and night, relay-style. Only one runner hits the road at a time. Each participant runs three times, with each leg ranging between 3-8 miles and varying in difficulty. So, from the elite runner down to the novice jogger, it’s the perfect race for anyone

While one person is running, the rest of your teammates are on support duty in your race vehicles. Teams require 2 vehicles (Runners 1-6 in van 1 and 7 -12 in van 2) Van 1’s runners will cover the first six legs. As each runner begins, the crew in the vehicle can drive ahead, cheer their runner on and meet them at the exchange point to pick them up and drop off the next runner. After the first 6 legs, van 2 picks up the slack and starts putting in the miles.

Once your van’s runners finish the six legs, you drive ahead to the major exchange point to wait for your other van to finish their six legs, hunker down and try to get some rest. If you aren’t in the mood to sleep or can’t seem to move your body into sleep mode, try harder because you will need it for the next step.

All that stuff above? Yeah… you get to do it two more times.”

A pretty apt description if I say so myself!

I was very nervous about taking on this challenge because I am not the most social of people (I have a lot of social anxiety which I try to mask). I knew Amber, but only a little through Weight Watchers. I knew absolutely no one else on the team which was a little disconcerting for me.

In true Jamie fashion, I researched Ragnar, looked up pins on Pinterest, picked Meredith’s brain regarding her experience with her relay in the Keys, and watched videos from people running Ragnar’s on YouTube. I think I sufficiently covered every inch of information I could find. The only thing I didn’t learn was exactly how hard this was going to be on my body!

We met as a team for the first time at Amber’s house in Phoenix (along with the social anxiety I have a lot of anxiety about driving in Phoenix-It’s pretty scary!). All of the girls that would be in my van came for the meeting and most of the girls for the other van were in attendance. The almost ironic thing was that the other van consisted of teachers and the van I’d be  in consisted of nurses. They all seemed to be OB nurses too (that’s the ironic part since I was going through my mental tug of war issue about not being able to have kids).

It was determined the nurses and Amber and I would be in van 1 and the teachers would be in van 2. I was to be runner number 6. The last runner for our van. At first I was secretly glad I was the last runner until I realized that meant I would have all that time to wait before my run. Amber was runner 1. Once she was done with her leg she would get to rest right away. Awesome.

We decided our team name would be “Chicks with Kicks” which I thought was totally adorable. Amber’s husband even designed our shirts!

I was enamored with our shirts! Our meeting took place only about 3 weeks before our race due to the fact that the original team had some injuries and several runners had to be replaced at the last-minute. It was a productive meeting, we got all the info we needed, and all we had to do was wait!

The night before we left for the starting line (waaaaaaay out on the other side of Arizona-it felt like) our half of the team met at Roadrunner Sports (love that place!) to participate in the van decorating event. Apparently it’s a big deal to trick out your van and have  theme. Most of us never having run a Ragnar before did not know this so we were clueless. Luckily the teacher (and researcher) in me brought along some magnets, markers, and little bird things I found in my classroom. This was the end result of our van:

I was pretty proud of the chick I had drawn on the back window if I do say so myself! The little birds had our names and what runner number we were. The managed to stay on all the way through the scary freeways (which we nominated Becca and Amber to switch off driving on), but somehow disappeared in the parking lot of the starting line. Annoying. Oh well…they were cute while they lasted.

If I remember correctly our start time was around 5:30am. The slower the group pace, the earlier the start time. Obviously with a start time before the sun came out-we were not planning on setting any records. We ended up leaving Tempe Market Place, where we had all arranged to meet, around 4am (I think) maybe 3:30? It was all a sleepy blur!

It was really cold that morning and we were all bundled up waiting for Amber to start us off as runner #1. The girls in the other van were lucky! They got to sleep in and didn’t had to meet us at our exchange until later in the afternoon. Although we did finish and had a few hours to rest before they crossed the finish line for our team. I’m getting ahead of myself a little.

The atmosphere was amazing. There was music, tons of people, and had such an energizing effect! Some teams were even wearing costumes. It was pretty awesome just to wander around and people watch before our team started off. The designs on the vans and the team names were fun to look at too! There was even one van dedicated to “The Griswold Family Vacation” from the National Lampoons Movies. It was a hoot!

Amber took off a little after 5:30. We drove back and forth on the route for a little while cheering for her, yelling out the windows, ringing a cowbell, etc. We pulled over a few times to give her some water. On most of the legs you could provide “support” to your runner by giving them water and fuel. Some legs, because of the roads, or the location of the route there was no support so the runners had to fend for themselves until the next exchange. Luckily we were able to support her. I think that loop for her was around 8 miles. As we drove ahead to the exchange point to drop of runner #2 and collect Amber, we started to worry as we began climbing some pretty steep hills in our van. This meant she would have to run up those hills-and they were toward the end of her leg! Scary!

We finally met up with an exhausted but happy Amber, said goodbye to runner 2-Janie, and set off to give more support to our runner and meet at the next exchange point. It was pretty fun. We got to the point we were yelling and cheering for anyone-it didn’t matter who it was. I could tell they appreciated the support too!

My leg was getting closer and closer and I was starting to get nervous. It was the hot part of the day (around 1pm), I was in an unfamiliar city, and even though we had a route map, I didn’t know what conditions I would be running on. If I remember correctly my first leg was a little over 5 miles and was labeled “moderate” in terms of difficulty. I figured 5 miles would be no big deal so I wasn’t too concerned about the distance.

I definitely was not prepared for the heat though! It had to be somewhere in the 90’s. That and lack of sleep made me feel as though I was running through quicksand. I think at one point I actually did run through quick sand! Not really, although it felt like it!. The last two miles of my leg were running through very loose and rather deep gravel. Not having trail shoes, I could feel every pebble as it settled into the groves in the bottom of my Brooks running shoes. My legs were on fire from the effort, I felt like I was trapped in a sauna due to the unseasonably warm weather, and I had to keep looking down to make sure I didn’t twist and ankle in the unstable surface I was running on.

I finally neared the finish for my leg and saw a sea of blue ahead of me. As a team we decided that for each of our sets of legs (3 per van) we would wear a different color (trust me you want to change your clothes after running and being stuck in a van with 5 other people). We decided on blue, then green, then pink (since our amazing shirts were pink). They have people call out team names when runners get close to the chute so the next runner can get ready for the hand off of the baton. In our case it wasn’t really a baton, but a slap bracelet which made it convenient and fun to do!

My team (both vans) leaned forward as I got closer and made an arch for me to run under. It was so cool! I wish I had a better picture of it. This was as close as I got:

That’s me, giddy with happiness to be able to cool down and running under the arch!

With our first run done, our van could relax! We cleaned up as best we could with baby wipes and other on-the-go-cleaning supplies, and grabbed some lunch. We were all tired, but happy. The girls had been taking turns trying to nap in the van. I don’t know if any of them were successful. It seemed as though a few were able to get a few zzz’s here and there. I was unsuccessful. I don’t sleep well if conditions aren’t perfect. Another one of my idiosyncrasies I think.

Our next run would begin in the evening. We drove to our next exchange point in search of showers (we were at a high-school and they had opened the locker room for us). Rumor had it that the water was cold. The lines were so long, none of us waited around to find out, so we once again cleaned up as best we could with the baby wipes. At least we were able to brush our teeth like normal and use a mirror to assess our damage (haha).

Getting nervous again being in an unfamiliar city, of course I started stressing about what time I’d be running, where I’d be running, how long it would take me, how cold it was, etc. Luckily the girls in my van were all amazing women and we swapped stories and kept each other entertained as much as possible. Soon it was Amber’s turn again and we trotted off to the exchange shoot to welcome our second van and see off Amber.

It was around 10 or 10:30pm at this point so of course it was dark. Ragnar has safety mandates which include a headlamp, a safety vest, and a light on the back of the vest during ‘night hours’ which were 9am to 9pm. It was eerie to see people all lit up, but we were able to see runners coming in from pretty far away.

My stomach (of course) had been acting up since I had finished my run earlier in the day. I didn’t eat much when we went to lunch, nor did I snack on anything in the van. When we said goodbye to runner 1 and headed back to our van we happened upon some nice volunteers who were making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the side of the road. Normally I would not eat a sandwich made by some random person on the side of the road at 10:30 at night, but I figured I needed to eat and suddenly the thought of jelly sounded really good. I’m not a big grape fan, but boy did that grape jelly and peanut butter sandwich hit the spot! I swear it was the best one I had ever had! I know it sounds weird but I will take the memory of that sandwich with me to my grave. (Kind of like the orange slices from the Phoenix Marathon-they were THAT good!).

We drove from exchange to exchange dropping off and picking up our runners. The majority of the legs on this run were ‘no support’ so we weren’t able to cheer for or give our runners water so it was kind of boring for us. We tried to nap at the exchanges, but it was difficult to do with the lights, and the noises from other vans. Plus we set up a text system so we knew when our runner was getting close so we could walk out to the exchange point at a decent time instead of standing there freezing. Soon I was up for my second leg!

What a difference a few hours make! I think I began my run around 3:30am. If my first run was hotter than hell, the second run was the polar opposite (pun intended). It was so cold I could see my breath! I had layered up and was wearing Capri running tights under my sweat pants, a tank with a  long-sleeved shirt and a jacket over that. I know that I am a hot runner though so right before I was to take off, I shed my outer sweats and handed them to one of the girls in my van. I was so tired (having been up for a over 24 hours at this point) that I had no idea of the person I handed all of my stuff to was even on my team!

 

Not even a mile into my run I started to get really hot! I ended up slowing down a little so I could struggle out of my running jacket and long-sleeved shirt. (Don’t worry, I still had a tank on underneath). I tied them around my waist as best I could so they wouldn’t fall off, and so my number was still visible. I had sweat rolling down my arms that would immediately freeze as soon as it hit that icy air. I’m surprised I didn’t end up with Pneumonia!

We all decided (when we got back to the van), that none of us were feeling particularly good, and we knew if was the odd nutrition of the last day and a half. We ended up making a late night Wal-Mart run. Once again we were in an unfamiliar city, and here I was around 5am walking around Wal-Mart in my running clothes, looking like death warmed over I’m sure! We got an assortment of cheese sticks, lunch meat, fruit and some crackers and headed off to the next exchange.

The girls made me lie down in the back of the van by this point. They knew I had gotten no sleep. It was way too hard for me to doze in a moving vehicle though. I wished so badly that I could be like a kid again when I’d always fall asleep in the car. Even on short rides!

Before I knew it, our reprieve was over and it was our van’s turn again. Last legs for us! It was blazing hot again and some of our runners had their longest legs coming up. My legs had been pretty consistent hovering around the 5-7.5 mile marks but one of our runners had gone from like a 4 mile run to this one being a 9 miler! It was brutal!

I was exhausted during my last leg. I knew where we were at this point! We were in Fountain Hills. They didn’t add the ‘hills’ part for no reason! This was a no support leg for me, probably because once I got out of the city, I was running on a major highway again. My van tried to stop where they could just so I’d see them there and know they were supporting their last runner as much as they could. The race marshal (is that even what you call those guys?) kept driving past me, turning around, and driving past me again. I have no idea what that was about. I knew I wasn’t the only runner left on the course. I was starting to get a complex though, like the sag wagon was after me!

The hills I ran up were brutal. My mysterious injury had not really bothered me too much up to this point. I think having regular adjustments from the chiropractor were helping. Those hills though. I didn’t think I was going to make it up some of them. My last hill was so steep I literally cried. Then I got mad at myself for crying and was able to push myself the last little bit that I needed

Part of our van decorations were the check boxes next to our names. When we finished a leg, we’d check it off. Notice how big that check mark is that I gave myself at the end. An emphatic check mark indeed! PS Kills (for those of you wondering) are for every person you pass during your leg. I may not be the fastest runner, but was till able to add some marks to that tally if I do say so myself! I think we forgot sometimes to add them, but it’s the thought that counts!

We headed back into familiar territory to wait for our second van to finish. We were going to meet them at the finish line and all run across the finish together. When we got to the parking lot of Tempe Town Lake we tried once again to clean up using the portable items we had. By then we were all too tired to really change so we just put on our “Chicks with Kicks” shirts on over our running clothes.

One of the other girls texted me saying our last runner was going in, so it was time to meet them at the finish and run across as a team. It’s weird to think that this was a ‘team’ event but it still kind of felt like we were two separate teams because we weren’t able to interact very well with the other van.

When we saw runner 12 coming in, we all began to cheer and ran across the finish line with her. I don’t know if it was lack of sleep, the excitement, or just the experience itself, but I did get a little teary as we ran across the finish line and were handed our medals!

We took a couple of team photo’s but for some reason when I tried to get them off of the girl who owned the camera’s Shutterfly they came out really small, so I’m not able to share them with you. I think we had a pretty good one at the first exchange too, when we were all in our blue. I feel bad saying “the girl” and “runner 12”. I didn’t know anyone from van 2 so I don’t really know their names or who did what which kind of makes me feel bad since we were a team.

It was definitely a fun and memorable experience! I was exhausted, not feeling well, out of my element, and dirty, but it was the most fun I had in a while! I would do it again in a heartbeat should the opportunity arise!

Here are some random pictures I forgot to include earlier:

The first one is of Amber and me. I feel like we got to be better friends during this experience. She has an amazing blog at mybirthwrite.com. Plus I met some other amazing women runners who I still keep in contact with via Facebook.

The second one is the Ragnar tattoo. Don’t worry, it was a temporary tattoo (that ended up lasting for several days to a week).

The final picture was my attempt at team spirit. Pink toes with the Ragnar Relay logo!

Up next: My half marathon the following week and more about my surgery!

Sleep well friends!

Ruh-Roh! and Ragnar

With school in session and a new grade level on my plate, free time is a precious commodity these days. I did however manage to escape at a decent hour today (only putting in 10 hours instead of my normal 12), so I was able to take care of business and still have time to write-yay!

The above GIF pretty much summed up my reaction when I spoke with a specialist regarding my MRI from the Chiropractor. She ordered and ultrasound to confirm something I had discovered at my yearly woman check up about a year earlier. I had a really large cyst in my abdomen and it seemed to have engulfed my right ovary. They were not concerned at the time even though at 8.2cm it was still a rather large cyst. The doctor I had seen previously said it was a ‘simple’ cyst (meaning it was fluid filled) which would most likely resolve itself and/or completely disappear and that they would be keeping and eye on it.

This appointment brought me the news that not only did my cyst not resolve itself, but it had grown almost 2cm and turned into a ‘complex’ cyst (no longer fluid filled and possibly a solid mass-which was why it appeared on the MRI apparently). She very gently informed me that it was time to consider a surgical removal based on the fact that it was on my right ovary. She said due to the size it could flip and cause torsion which would cut the blood supply off to my ovary and cause immense pain. She was amazed that I was not in pain as it was, because it was so large she could feel it upon a brief examination.  She said I more than likely would have to have my ovary and fallopian tube removed as well.

And if that wasn’t all…they saw another mass on my left side which was possibly another cyst of the same size. When I asked her to explain the sizing to me, she basically told me to imagine carrying two over-sized grapefruits around in my stomach. Hmmm. Not the greatest of imagery, but it did put it in perspective for me. She said they didn’t know if the second mass was attached to anything in my body, they wouldn’t know until they got in there.

I went home that evening with my head spinning. First the thought of having surgery was freaking me out of course. Secondly, even though I really had never entertained the idea that I would even have kids; the fact that the choice could possibly be taken away from me really upset me. She didn’t say for sure I wouldn’t be able to have children, but my chances would be lessened with the removal of one ovary and fallopian tube, and if they got in there and found something wrong with the other ovary then my chances would go from bad to non-existent.

I am a teacher. I have plenty of honorary nieces and nephews to love and spoil (technically they are my second cousins but that’s kind of an odd relationship to explain to a child so I am ‘Aunt Jamie’). I am single and creeping closer to my 40’s so I figured I was not in the place to have a kid. I also wasn’t sure if I would even be a good mother. Let’s be honest-after a day at school I am less than patient when I am at the store and some kid is running around like he/she owns the place. I didn’t think that kind of attitude would translate well if I were to go home to a child (even though everyone says it’s different when it’s YOUR child).

BUT (there is always an ever-present ‘but’ isn’t there?) I was upset that it was no longer my choice. I don’t know if I am able to explain it well. People pointed out to me that I had remarked on occasion that I wasn’t really sure I wanted to have children to begin with. Now that I possibly couldn’t I should be happy and not be too concerned about it since it wasn’t a factor anyway.

Still…the choice was gone. I was no longer in charge of my body or my decision regarding that subject. I also started feeling like maybe I was defective. On a particularly bad evening several weeks later, I was dwelling on the subject and started thinking “What if this is God’s plan for me because He knows I would be a terrible mother?” Yes, I did go to a pretty dark place in my thoughts.

I am not what you would call a religious person. I don’t go to church. I don’t follow a dogma of any kind of religion. I have never been baptized, nor do I pray on a regular basis. Still-I have always felt there is something greater than me whether it be a higher power, an omniscient being, an alien from another universe, etc. I have always felt that things happen for a reason, even though we don’t always understand that reason (I.E. both of my parents dying separately and way before their time).

I struggled with my thoughts about the subject for some time. It was always at the back of my mind, it effected my feelings toward myself, and it consumed me. I couldn’t (and really still feel like I can’t) put into words exactly what I felt or what my thought process was. People would question me and then look at me like I had two heads when I was trying to explain myself. Mostly I kept quiet and tried not to let anyone see really and truly how much it was bothering me.

Like I said, I feel like things happen for a reason. This was all going on around the time of my training for the full marathon. I don’t have an exact timeline because it’s all so jumbled at this point. I had decided that with my leg issue there was no way I could run the full marathon and I refused to have a WORSE time than my first marathon, so I emailed the race director (who was very nice) and dropped down to the half-marathon. I was beside myself with the stress of my so-far undetermined injury, trying to train for the full, finishing up standardized testing at school and getting ready to move my classroom, and then the worry about my upcoming surgery was icing on the cake (or the cherry on the sundae-whichever food related euphemism you like better).  I got a text message one day that provided me with the outlet and distraction I needed from what was going on with me.

Cliffhanger alert! Just kidding. I am going to finish this post and start another one solely dedicated to the Ragnar since it was so amazing. I will also be posting about my surgery as well, which will most likely have to be another separate post. In true Jamie fashion, I have rambled on long enough on this post and need to have a breaking point so people don’t want to break me!

Catching Up Part II and The Year in Review

(In case you couldn’t tell I’ve decided I like GIF’s)

I will try to make my year in review as brief as possible…action packed as though it was! My training was going well. I had decided I was going to run the Phoenix Full Marathon again to redeem myself and was following a modified version of Hal Higdon’s training plan.

My first official event of the season was the Women’s Running Magazine half-marathon. Although I think now it’s just called The Women’s Running Series. The day dawned bright and early. I saddled up with my friend and training partner Meredith and off we went. I had a pretty good run! I ended up with a PR of  about 5 minutes which I was totally not expecting! Conditions were good and it wasn’t too blazing hot out so I was able to push through and rock the course (which they had changed and decided to put a big-ass hill at the end of). I also ran into a friend who used to work at my school (the traitor decided to go off and teach junior high!) as well as one of the parent’s from my school (who I didn’t know was a runner! She was doing awesome on her first half!)

Megan, me, and Meredith at the end of the Women’s Half.

A week later Meredith, her husband Dave, our friend Michele and her husband Rob flew to Las Vegas for the Rock and Roll Half Marathon. (Yes I am the only single one sadly enough). It was my first destination race and I had mixed feelings because I don’t fly. Ever. Flying freaks me out. I had flown twice previously and both times left me with stiff fingers from clutching the arm rests of the chairs so tight and a heart rate that took several days to stabilize. Needless to say I had already paid for the race and put a deposit down on a hotel room. No one would drive to Vegas with me so I had no choice. I went to the doctor and begged for something to help. She prescribed a little something for me and due to my sensitivity to medications, advised me to take half and then take another half if it wasn’t working. This was me at the airport with just a half in my system and about 20 minutes until boarding time:

Wow! Look at all that blond hair!

Needless to say I took another half. Unfortunately it did not kick in right away. I literally tried to get off of the plane once we boarded. I was sandwiched in-between Meredith and Dave and had Michele and Rob behind me. Dave told me he wasn’t letting me off of the plane. I freaked myself out thinking I was going to have a panic attack. Luckily Meredith brought her iPad and tried to distract me with Sudoku. That actually worked (kind of) and before I knew it we were airborne. I think (because the flight to Vegas from Arizona is so short) that it took the majority of the flight for the last half of my anti-anxiety pill to kick in. I definitely felt it when it did though. I just suddenly felt…calmer.

This was a trip of firsts for me! First destination race, first time staying in a hotel room all by myself like a big girl…the list could go on. It was a super fun experience and I would love to do it again some time in the future!

A much calmer me taking a selfie before the race in my hotel room.

Michele, me, Dave and Meredith (Rob was taking the picture) at the finish line. We earned the “Rock Encore” medal for completely PF Chang’s Rock and Roll Half in January 2013 and we will have earned the “Desert Double Down” medal for completing the Vegas run as well as the January 2014 PF Chang’s Rock and Roll Half!

There is really no reason for this picture other than to show how utterly exhausted I was. I was in Vegas and drinking an iced tea at 11pm. I’m such a party animal! Running at night is hard when you don’t know what to eat all day and you’ve been awake and moving around! Still earned another PR though! 3 minutes off of my race time the week before! Shocked the hell out of myself with that one!

I found out quite by accident that night that our medals glow in the dark. Being in a strange room and very sleepy, I was a little freaked out when I woke up around 3am I saw this glowing on the table next to the bed! Then I realized what it was. Way cool!

After Vegas I started having this really weird pain in my leg. It started in my low back and radiated down and then around the front part of my right leg down to my knee. Sometimes it would bother me more than others. A few times I couldn’t even run a mile it was hurting me so bad! I still ran through the pain, knowing I had to train for the Phoenix the following March. I completed several small runs like the Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving and the Athleta Iron Girl up in Fountain Hills Arizona (aptly named as hilly as it was!). I did a lot of walking during that one. I ran the declines and walked the inclines because my leg was bothering me. It was my birthday present from Meredith though so I didn’t want to not go!

I’m kind of race snob. I don’t like doing short races like 5k’s or 10k’s because they don’t usually offer a medal. I run for the bling! The Athleta Iron Girl had a pretty cool medal that was glass in the middle so I made an exception!

The next race I was to run was the PF Chang’s Rock and Roll Half-Marathon in Tempe. Two days before the half I ended up with the stomach flu that had been terrorizing my school as well as making its rounds through family members.

I just remember how awful I felt. I couldn’t even get myself together enough to get on the light rail with my friends to go to the expo to pick up our bibs the day before the race. Believe me, if they allowed it I would have had someone pick up my bib for me. I felt that terrible. I didn’t think I could make it on the light rail with all the stops and starts and weird smells.

Luckily my amazing friend Debi said she would drive me into Phoenix to the expo at the Civic Center to pick up my bib. Then I didn’t have to worry about the light rail ickyness and she could pull over if need be. I loaded up on Pepto Bismol and Immodium before we took off. I was still nauseated but hadn’t seen any action for a while so I was crossing my fingers.

I think that was the quickest I had ever gone through a race expo. I basically got my bib and shirt and pretty much dragged Debi and her little boy through the expo as fast as possible so I could get back home and go to bed. It was one nightmarish blur.  I honestly thought about not doing the race at all as bad as I felt. The only thing that kept me going, was knowing I would be able to collect my “Desert Double Down” medal at the finish line.

The next morning upon waking I knew I still didn’t feel well enough to run. Luckily My friends Kat and Michele were going to walk it. I opted to tag along. Having not eaten in three days and knowing I was dehydrated I didn’t want to chance anything happening. It was actually kind of fun being able to walk and take the opportunity to listen to the bands scattered along the course and really thank the volunteers and the cheerleaders. Plus the scenery up around the Zoo/Papago Park area is gorgeous! We still made pretty good time too!

Post-Flu exhaustion with my two medals (I have no idea what the guy behind me is looking at!)

During all of this my leg had still been bothering me so I had been having x-rays done on different parts of my body. Nothing you pushed on hurt. It wasn’t muscular, it didn’t feel like I had a bone that was fractured, nothing was sore to the touch, it was just sore when I ran, and if I sat too long it would start to hurt. I started seeing a Chiropractor and he started adjusting me. He thought maybe it could be a pinched nerve or maybe sciatica so he wanted to send me for an MRI. I grudgingly set up and appointment because I wanted to find out what was wrong so I could get better!

While I was dealing with all of that I ran the Lost Dutchman Half-Marathon. My time wasn’t pretty because my leg was hurting, but I did better than I thought I would. My original plan was to walk the whole thing because I had the opportunity to participate in a Ragnar relay race the following weekend and I really wanted to take it easy.

I ended up running the majority of it. I did think about stopping at one point and tipping over a traffic cone to roll out my hamstring because it was killing me from the hills. It was better than previously though, perhaps because of the chiropractic care I was receiving.

That week I ended up getting my MRI and was not happy with the results. They didn’t find anything wrong with my leg or back, no pinched nerves, no muscle issues etc. My chiropractor reassured me that it could still be sciatic pain that didn’t show up on the MRI for one reason or another. It was nice to know there was nothing horribly wrong with me like a degenerated or collapsed disc, but at the same time I would have liked to have had more of a concrete answer. He did tell me that something interesting showed up on the MRI though.

They had done a series with the low back and hip area (to make sure I wasn’t having hip problems as well). Apparently this included my pelvic region because the radiologist had noted a “large mass” in my abdomen. This totally freaked me out because I hadn’t been feeling anything or having any issues other than the normal stomach issues I had been having.  I was advised to make an appointment with my specialist right away to have it looked at.

I think I will end there for tonight. Not just because I love keeping my dear readers in suspense, but because I would really like to go into detail about the Ragnar race I ran the week after Lost Dutchman and then write more about what has been going on with me since March. It’s been a whirlwind for sure!