Doggy smiles and earflapping--are you smiling yet?

Today was a much needed rest day.  As accomplished as I felt after this past weekend, I ended it with a bit of a bitter taste in my mouth.  My long run didn't feel great, and the bike ride ride was tough.  I made it through all the necessary miles, but I didn't get that "wow, I feel great now" feeling that makes it all seem worth it at the end.

I know that with the run, it was just an off day.  Good days will come again soon.  With the biking, I'm hopeful that happens too.  I haven't had a "wow, that was great" bike ride yet, but I keep reminding myself that it took me at least 6 months of running, if not a year, before I started truly enjoying it.  There were certainly parts of the ride I enjoyed, and I think that once my muscles and bike-riding endurance catch up to what I want to do, the love for the exercise will follow.

Regardless, I woke up this morning feeling drained and exhausted.  I don't usually look forward to rest days, but this morning I woke up with the happy thought that I would be getting some well-deserved rest after school.

My exhaustion carried throughout the day, which only added to my already down-trodden mood.  I don't like being tired at my job.  I feel like I am short-changing my students on these days.  I am by no means a "bad" teacher when I'm tired, but I feel like I am unable to give my all.  If I can't get excited about teaching, the children don't get excited about learning.  They feed off my animation, and without animation, they seem bored and reluctant.  I taught one of my favorite writing lessons today where I teach the kids how to use a different "Voice of Poetry" and speak to the subject of the poem.  They typically find this lesson hilarious as I plan a poem where I yell at the hill that looms ahead of me while I run or talk to the broccoli I'm going to eat for dinner.  But the laughter was minimal today and it was because my enthusiasm was extremely lacking.  I think I'm going to reteach the lesson again tomorrow, not because they didn't understand it (they all wrote lively poems as they talked to their teddy bears, cats, mean brothers, and pesky flies), but because they didn't love it.  Every year, I teach my children to love poetry, and it is simply because I love poetry (reading it and writing it) deeply and truly, and therefore it is not hard for me to "act" excited about it.  Today I was tired, and I could have done better.

My bad mood persisted on my drive home as I sat brooding about everything that I don't have in my life.  But then I remembered today was a rest day.  I didn't have to go home, change into running clothes, and push my way through exhaustion on a run.  Suddenly I noticed the sun was out.  I had still felt the gray gloom of our Sunday bike ride all day, and it was nice to feel the heat of the sun.  Then I noticed that I was incredibly windy out, and as I drove into Seattle, I watched the trees bowing their tops to the force of the wind, and for some reason, this cheered me up a bit too.  And then when I got home, Lucy was there to greet me.  It is impossible to be greeted by Lucy and not grin ear to ear.  I mean, really, look at that face:

When she gets super excited about me being
home and I can't immediately give her attention
(cause my arms are full), she runs to the bedroom
and begins neurotically chewing a toy until I
am free to give love.

Then, I happily put on jeans and walking shoes (retired running shoes), plugged my ears with headphones, turned on the Mumford and Sons Pandora station on my iPhone, and headed out the door into the sunny windstorm with Lucy at my side.  The first thing that made me laugh out loud to myself was when we turned a corner at the top of a hill and were hit with a huge gust of wind.  Lucy's ears began flapping backwards as if she were sticking her head out the window of a car.  She immediately looked up at me as if I had done this to her, asking me to stop the wind (she similarly does this in the rain, looking at me accusingly as if I am choosing to make water fall from the sky).  This happened a couple of times, and each time, I laughed to myself.  

Lucy also has a habit of, when feeling ignored, lagging a little behind on the leash, then sneaking up from behind and poking me in the butt with her nose.  As I walked along, lost in my music and thoughts, I was repeatedly poked as the wind picked up.  Every time I am poked, I look down to my left to see a prancing, smiling puppy, proud of herself as if she's the smartest dog in the world, saying "Hi!  I'm still here!  Don't forget about me!"  I reach down my hand, let her touch it with her nose, and then she is good to go for a while longer.  Today, however, the pokes were way more persistent than they have been in a long time, and I actually stopped a few times to give her solid pets in the middle of the sidewalk.  Each time though, her smile puts a smile on my face.  And smiles, no matter the reason, always make a person feel happier.  

So we walked, and Lucy poked, I looked down to see Lucy's smile, then I smiled.  After many repetitions, along with some earflapping in the wind (of which I tried to get a picture, but just couldn't catch), my mood suddenly felt balanced again.  No more doldrums.  By the time I reached my apartment door after our hour long walk, I was rejuvenated, re-pepped, and me again.  

Sometimes bad days happen.  And sometimes rest days feel great.  And sometimes dogs know just what to do to make everything all better again.  Thanks, Lucy.

If this is insane, I don't miss sanity

I'm beginning to believe it when people tell me I'm insane.  Here's why.  My weekend consisted of the following things:

13 miles running
39 miles cycling
6+ miles Lucy walking
2 ice baths

With all those miles laid out back to back, I could have traveled from Seattle almost all the way to Olympia (typically a 1.5 hour drive).  I don't think normal people do that.  Therefore, there must be some sort of sanity in my head that has slowly slipped away in the past couple years to cause me to want to do this.  I guess I lost a few marbles along the way, but I've got to say that they are not marbles I miss.  Yes, I am admittedly insane, and I am OK with that.  In order to reinforce my insanity, let's recap the weekend.

I woke up Saturday morning at 6:45 in order to drive to the Centennial Trail in Samammish (a bit too far away for my typical  Saturday practice taste) to meet the current Summer Team for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's Team in Training.  With this team, I'm training and fundraising for the Rock N Roll San Diego Marathon on June 3.  We met at our typical 8:30 meet-up time and ran through our announcements.

If you don't know anything about Team in
Training, look it up.  They've been a huge part
of my life in the past 2 years.

We started our run with a "mission mile" walk.  We typically start our runs with a "mission moment," which consists of someone telling us about their connection to blood cancers.  Some of these stories are happy success stories, so of them are not.  For the mission mile, our team captain and a couple other mentors set up signs with the names of all of the people we are running for on our team.  We took a quiet walk through the signs.

These solemn moments remind us why we are
bugging all of our friends and family for money
and also help to give us the motivation we need
to push through the hardest miles.

Then we started running.  It was not the best feeling run for me.  Ever since pushing it in the Whidbey Island Half, my legs have felt like lead.  This may be because I haven't had time to properly care for them.  I didn't ice bath or foam roll after the half.  The week after that, I ran 15 miles and then got into a car to drive 5 hours and go wine tasting for an entire weekend.  Again, no ice bath or foam rolling.  This did not bode well for muscle recovery.  I came back from the wine tasting weekend, ran a 5 mile tempo run with a huge hill at the end on Monday, ran another 4+ miler with my teacher running club on Wednesday, and then did a hilly bike ride from my house to and around Magnolia and back again (15-20 miles, not sure of exact distance) on Thursday.  And so, yesterday morning's run was hard on the legs.  The trail was pretty though, and the sun managed to shine a bit.

There were lots of farms, and horses.  Good
running scenery.

And even though the run was tough, I still managed to smile pretty and look super excited for the camera.

This picture is a lie.  I did not feel this excited
or happy.  But a picture of the way I really
felt would not have been suitable for internet
viewing.

After the run, I went out to breakfast with a few teammates at a place called Creekside Alehouse and Grill.  I did not partake in any ale drinking.  I had big plans for the rest of my Saturday that included cleaning my apartment, doing laundry, walking Lucy, and maybe being social and going out for a drink with friends (I know, this again makes my life sound very exciting, but if it makes you feel better, I did manage to go out for a bit, even if I was home and in bed by 11:30).

When I got home from practice, I took an ice bath, which is something that I had been sorely missing (sorely, haha, get it?  Puns are fun).  If you have never experienced an ice bath, my description will make you really want to become a distance runner.  First, you make a hot cup of tea and put on the warmest sweatshirt you own.  Then, you fill your tub with the coldest water you can get.  Then you plunge yourself into the cold water.  Then you take 1-3 bags of ice and pour them into the tub with you.  Then you sit in the tub for 15-20 minutes.  Sounds really fun, right?  Do you want to run a marathon now?  The benefits of an ice bath more than pay off for the "slight" discomfort though.  Because of my weekend ice bath(s), I will be able to walk at work tomorrow.  I forgot to take a picture of the bag of ice pre-ice bath, so here's a picture of the empty bag as proof of my ice-bath-taking.

My ice baths require a pink hammer.  Does
that make you nervous?

After the 20 minute ice bath defrost, I took a ridiculously long, hot shower.  I vacuumed, did some laundry, half-heartedly cleaned the bathroom, and then walked Lucy for an hour.  Unfortunately, Lucy can't come along on runs any long than 6 or 7 miles, so she gets exercise separately on these days.  The day was beautiful, and I allowed Lucy some time to smell the flowers.

Immediately after this, she tried to roll in
whatever oh-so-interesting smell this was.  I do
not understand the doggy desire to roll in
awful-smelling things. 

Then I went home and finished up the laundry I'd been working on all day.  My bathroom is transformed into a running clothes drying room on laundry days.  I have running shirts that account for almost every race I've ever done, from 5Ks to full marathons and everything in between.

Running shirts don't go into the dryer, they
are too precious.   Everything else I own
however, does.

After being productive, I allowed myself some fun time with friends that included going to a Team in Training fundraiser and sharing a bottle of wine with some girls.  As mentioned before, I was home and in bed by 11:30.  I tried to watch a movie on my Kindle Fire in bed, but fell alseep less than halfway through it.  This is why I don't own a TV anymore.  I can't watch a screen with falling immediately asleep.  Total waste of money.

I allowed myself to "sleep in" Sunday morning and woke up at 9:00.  Sleeping in for me used to mean waking up in double digit hours.  I think those days have sadly (and happily) passed.  I grabbed my cycling gear, threw my bike in my car, and headed out to West Seattle to meet my friends Erica and Jason for a 40 mile bike ride (yes, I know I said 39 miles before, but I'm officially calling it 40.  If you disagree, go out and ride 39 miles and then come back and tell me it's not 40).  This is in preparation for the Seattle to Portland bike ride (also known as STP, not to be confused with Stone Temple Pilots) that I'm doing in July.  We started just under the West Seattle bridge and rode to the Vashon ferry terminal (a little under 10 miles).  We hopped on the ferry which gave us time to take some great pictures with a grey sky background.

I'm beginning to get used to pictures of me in
a bike helmet.  It kind of makes my face look
smaller.

Yay for puffy jacket pictures.  Thanks wind, you make us look awesomely skinny.

If you think I'm insane, meet Jason.  Jason is an Ironman
(as all of his biking gear with tell you).  He is currently training
for a 50 mile run the same weekend as my marathon.  He biked
60 miles on Saturday, then did 40 with us today.  He planned
to go for a run when he got home.  Also, meet Erica.
Her sanity is equal to mine.

After getting off the ferry, we biked up a HUGE hill.  I'm not exaggerating.  As we were going up, Jason began singing "This is the hill that never ends" merrily to the tune of the "song that never ends."  My progress up the hill has not helped by the fact that I failed to realize I could still downshift 2 more gears.  At the top of the hill, Jason kindly pointed this out to me.  I'm still a "beginning" biker.  I have much to learn.

The rest of Vashon Island was gorgeous but hilly.  We stopped at a cute little delicious bakery for sustenance.  

Awesomely rustic, especially when Instagrammed.

Then we grudgingly hopped back on the bikes to finish out the rest of the island, hop back on the ferry, then bike the final 10 miles back to the car.  We apparently climbed (in ups and downs) about 1800 feet during the duration of our entire ride.  This resulted in the need for another ice bath.

See the 2 bags of ice?  And the pink hammer?
And the cup of tea on the toilet seat?  All
necessary.

And if you still don't believe me:

The water makes my legs look unflatteringly
large here.  I accept it.

After the ice bath, defrost, and hot shower, Lucy got a speedy 30 minute walk while my tummy tried to eat itself.

Now happily full, I am exhausted, spent, and ready for bed.  Am I crazy for having a weekend like this?  Yes.  Did I have fun?  Yes.  Was it challenging?  Yes.  Can I count my successes in ice baths?  Yes.  Do I regret anything about my weekend?  No.  Will I do it again next week?  Yes.  And you'll probably hear about that too.

P.S.  Still wondering what the pink hammer is for?  Leave a comment and take a guess :)  Maybe I'll tell you.

Goodbye yesterday, hello today

            I’m done rehashing the past and ready to think about today.  Whatever feeling it was that compelled me several short months ago to begin writing this blog and delving into my past has disappeared.  Whatever I thought could be unearthed by reliving the not too far distant past on the internet for the world to see has either been unearthed or buried deeper again.  Either way, the past couple times I’ve sat down to write a post, I’ve wanted to write about the here and now, not the far and gone. 

However, because the “premise” of this blog was to write about the evolution of my running and how Lucy influenced it, I felt required to continue the chronological retelling of events.  But then recently I realized that I’m the one that made that “premise.”  And now I can change it.  Because I have that power.  Because it is my blog, and I said so.

That is not to say that the past won’t return.  The story isn’t over yet, I’m just done telling it in a sequential, logical fashion.  Now it will be tucked into bits and pieces of today as it becomes relevant.  Because that’s the way the past is anyways, right?  It pops up when we least expect it to, memories creeping over your shoulder as you smell a familiar smell or stand on a street corner you stood on once before, long ago.  It overwhelms you when you see an old friend, or taps you on the back as you make a mistake…again.  No matter what, the past is never gone forever.  It’s just tucked away in memories somewhere waiting to appear when needed.

But for now, until the past creeps up on me, I want to talk about today.  I will still typically keep with the themes of running and Lucy, but it will be current events instead.  Because today is where life is.  When I was in high school, I always wanted to be one of those people who lived for the moment (uh oh, that was the past…see what I mean, just when I thought it was gone?).  “No day but today,” in the words of Jonathan Larson.  “Carpe diem,” in the words of Robin Williams (I know, he didn’t write them, but he said emphatically in Dead Poets’ Society).  Make today worth living, relish every moment, because who knows what will happen tomorrow.

I had an incident today in my car that kind of instigated all of this.  I was on my way home from work after going for a run with our after school teacher running club at work.  I had Lucy in the car with me because she spends Wednesdays at doggie day care, since I typically have meetings after school on these days and then run with the running club.  Lucy was sleeping comfortably in the back of the car.

We were on the highway and it was POURING.  Not the typical Seattle sprinkle, but New York style downpour so heavy that even with the windshield wipers on full speed it’s hard to see.  I was in the left lane (yes, I am always in the left lane, because I admittedly like to go fast and “beat” the other cars), but in Seattle there is a 2+ person carpool lane to the left of the left lane.  This lane fills with puddles during heaving rainstorms and I typically avoid it when carpooling on days like today.  I was travelling a substantially safe distance from the car in front of me (because, unlike most Seattle drivers, I actually know how to drive in the rain). 

Suddenly a car came speeding up next to me in the carpool lane, passed me, and then just as it was passing the car in front of me, it hit a huge puddle, spraying an obscene amount of water onto the car in front of me.  I can imagine that panic of the driver as the water hit the windshield—all lines of sight completely obscured in a loud shower of pelting water.  But in this driver’s panic, instead of gripping the wheel with white knuckles, holding steady and waiting for the water to continue on its way, the driver SLAMMED ON THE BREAKS.  It took an instant for me to realize what happened, then I SLAMMED ON THE BREAKS, heard Lucy go careening in the back of the car, heard my head scream “DON’T HYDROPLANE,” let go of the breaks, then SLAMMED them again to just barely miss hitting the stupid driver in front of me, heard Lucy go careening again, and then finally had time to feel my heart jump out of my chest as the other car began to regain speed.  My heart is currently speedily beating again just thinking about it.

My immediate reaction to it all was to throw a hand back and feel Lucy’s entire body for any possibly injuries, even though she had already righted herself (when I got home, I checked her belly for internal bleeding—I have no idea what internal bleeding feels like, but I checked).  She seemed fine, although quite shaken for the rest of the ride, unable to settle and sleep as she typically does in the car. 

The rest of the car ride (another 35 minutes in the rain traffic), I couldn’t help but run through worst-case scenarios of what could have just happened.  I almost brought myself to tears, thinking about situations where Lucy is crushed under the weight of an overturned car, or thrown forward through the windshield as I forcefully rear-end the driver.  Of course, the dooms-day disasters seemed to focus on what would have happened to Lucy, not me.  I also worried about the car.  I did NOT want to have to buy another and extend the awful loan payments again (that simple word again means the past just re-emerged, but I won’t elaborate on that right now).

This harmless, yet scary and life-threatening close encounter on the rainy highway got me thinking about today.  And so from now on, expect to hear about today.  Current marathon training, new experiences on my bike as I train for the 2 day, 200 mile bike ride from Seattle to Portland in July, current Lucy antics and stories.  The past will still be around, because you simply can’t have today without all the yesterdays that came before.  But today is more important than yesterday, because you can have today without tomorrow.  Today I am living.  And today I am running.  And today I am teaching and learning and loving.  And today, I will give Lucy a big huge bone-squishing bear hug before I fall asleep.

Enjoy your today.

In case you were worried, here is Lucy
alive and well with no internal bleeding in her
typical post-doggie day care couch position.

Life with Lucy: Fun Game

I made up a great game.  It's called "Guess where my bed will be when mom comes home from work!"

It could be upsidedown between the kitchen and
living room.

Or upsidedown in the bedroom
(yes I like it to be upsidedown).

Or upsidedown by the rocking chair.

Or it could even be upsidedown in the middle
of the living room.

And of course, you've seen this one.

But the best place is right here behind the door,
so when mom comes home she can't get it open
and I can jump on her relentlessly as she
struggles to get inside.

Or it could be right here, where it belongs tucked
out of the way in the living room. (Hint to new
players: It will never be here.)

Life with Lucy: 'membering stuff is tuff

I was going somewhere, but I forgot, soooo....this works.

Whidbey Island Half Marathon: Killed It.

     Yep, totally killed it.  Today I PR'ed at the Whidbey Island Half Marathon by a little under 5 minutes.  I finished with an official time of 1:54:50.  It was a beautiful day and I felt great.  I conserved my energy in the beginning, I pounded the hills at the end, and I came out tired and sore, but on top of the world.

     Today's race felt really different from the Amica Seattle Half Marathon in November.  That was the first race that I was able to push my time down under the 2 hour mark (by less than 30 seconds) and I didn't feel great.  It was cold, rainy, and I walked several times.  Although I was really happy with my time, I came out thinking I could have done better.  I could have fought the discouraging voice a little more.  Today was different.  I was able to keep the voice that says "no you can't" very quiet and the voice that says "yes you can" emerged loud and clear.  I can't help but compare today's race to November's and wonder what made such a huge difference.

     I think the weather was a huge factor.  I will rally and run in the cold rain, but that doesn't mean that I'll love it.  Sunshine makes me run faster.  This is now a proven fact.  The temperature today was also perfect--a little warmer than November's race, but not too hot even with the sun out.  

     I also think the point I'm currently at in my training made a huge difference.  In November, I was not training for any other races.  I had run the Victoria Marathon a month and a half before and wasn't super motivated to go the distance.  Right now, I'm in the middle of training for the Rock N Roll San Diego Marathon in June, and today's race fit perfectly into my training plan.  I'm working hard, getting ready for a new race instead of tapering off the high of a previous one.

     As important as those things are though, I think that sometimes just to smallest of things can make or break the feeling of a race.  It can be the meal you had for dinner or breakfast.  It can be solely based on the condition of your tummy.  It can be how much sleep you got that week, or how much water you've had.  Or it can be something that has absolutely nothing to do with running that can make a race really great or really crappy.

    And so, we will now analyze the last 24 hours of my life in pictures...maybe a distinct answer will emerge, maybe not.  Regardless, I think photo montages are fun, so here goes.

Last night I started the evening off with a HUGE bowl of spaghetti and tomato sauce (with an added flare of some Chantarelle mushrooms).  And lots of parmesan cheese.  And salt.  I really like salt.  And when I run, it all ends up seeping out the pores on my face anyways, and I can just wipe it all off when it dries.

Please note the tall glass of water.  It was very
hard to not make that a glass of wine.

After that, I proceeded to have conversations with myself via text message to amuse my friends.

Bananas are extremely important
pre-race fuel.

Then I readied myself for the race by preparing a few of the essentials.  First, I pre-filled all the necessary water bottles.

I don't know why the water bottles need to
go into the fridge, seeing as they will be warm
when I drink them.  They just do.  And please
ignore the classy beers in the background.

Next I prepped and placed my on-the-run fuel in a place I wouldn't forget them.

I really like strawberry flavored things when
I run.  Not so much when not running.  I also
find this weird, but I don't question what works.

After that, I laid out my outfit for the following day.  I had to check the weather to do this and was really excited to pull out more summery running gear.  I decided on capris, my Rock N Roll Seattle Marathon shirt (it was my first marathon, so I like wearing it).  Then arm warmers, socks, watch, and sports bra.  Normally I'd put my running belt on top of this stuff, but it was already in the kitchen with my GUs.

I craftily left my underwear out of this picture
to spare you.  I added it later.

Then I pre-prepped my breakfast for the morning.  Because we had such an early wake-up call, I planned to eat breakfast in the car on the way to the race.  Hence the awesome purple lunchbox.

Don't worry, the yogurt didn't sit there all night.
That would have made for a very bad race.

Then I went to bed at this time:

Yep, super cool on a Saturday night.

Lucy obligingly went to bed too.

So cute all curled up in her bed.

In the middle of the night, I had some crazy dreams.  In one, I was running a marathon, but I was 10 minutes late to the start because of Sierra (sorry Sierra, it was your job to pick me and you were late).  When I got there, everyone was gone and I spent the whole race trying to catch up with my friends while solving weird "race puzzles" along the way to figure out where the course went next.  I had to pee really badly the whole race.  Then I woke up and actually did have to pee really badly.  I usually don't wake up in the middle of the night to pee, but I took it as a sign to mean I had very properly hydrated during the day.  I did not take a picture of this.

Then I woke up at this god-awful time:

Nothing else to say.

Lucy did not so obligingly wake up.

She likes to sleep in as much as I do.

I grabbed my perfectly pre-prepped items and drove to meet my friends by 4:45.  I hopped in the car, happy to not be driving, and started the 1.5 hour trek to Whidbey Island.  It was actually timed quite beautifully.  We hit Deception Pass just as the sun was rising, which is impossibly gorgeous.  Unfortunately, we did not stop for pictures.

We got to the race almost 2 hours early, picked up our bibs, and then sat in the warm car until 15 minutes before the start.  Here we are, happy at the start:

Yes, I tower a whole head above these ladies.  I'm a giant.
And I wear my water belt really high on my waist.  So cool.

The race started, and we tried our best to hold ourselves back to a 9:00 pace for the first few miles.  I'm glad we did this, although according to my final mile splits, we kind of failed.  Our watches were a little up and down through the first miles.  Mine and my friend Erica's usually agree for the most part, but they were being funny.  Oh well.  I all turned out great in the end.  We even had enough energy at mile 6 to pull out the phones and snap a few shots of the gorgeous views the island has to offer.

Here's a picture of me running.  I think this
is obligatory if I'm writing a post about me
running a half marathon.

The race was pretty smooth sailing until just past mile 9.  We kept things steady, but then we hit the hills.  There was one big hill at the beginning, but at the beginning hills don't matter so much.  The hills at the end were pretty killer.  We had some pretty substantial ups and downs between miles 9 and 12.  I've been doing about 5 weeks of hills training for my marathon, so even though these hills were hard, I was able to keep my negative voices to a minimum and push through.  By the time I hit the top of the last hill at the mile 12 marker, I was able to sail down the other side of it and push myself through the last flat stretch to the finish.  My splits say I ran this last mile at an 8:10 pace.  I didn't know I had that in me after 12 miles.  But I did.  It's crazy what your body can do when you command it to be uncomfortable for a little while.  I realized from this race that I probably couldn't have gotten the time I did without these hills.  Although the uphills were more than challenging, I made up a lot of time by cruising on the downhills.  If it were all flat, I don't know that I could have pushed that hard.  And as a result of this conclusion, I will love hills for ever and always.  Really.  Seriously.

Mileage splits according to my watch.  See that huge fail
of a 9 minute pace the first mile?  And the awesome
8:10 pace final mile?  I'm pretty proud.

Here are happy finisher faces:

Notice that Ana (on the right) is standing on her tiptoes.
I am still a giant.

And here are some delicious post race snacks provided by the race organizers.

Do you see that little single package of Tilamook
Cheddar cheese?  Best post race snack ever.

After those snacks, we stayed on the island to eat some really yummy fried food that included pickle chips and fish and chips for me.  But the most important part of the meal was this:

See the pickled green beans?  Even more
awesome than Tilamook cheese.

After breakfast, we took the ferry back instead of driving back over the pass.  We partially regretted this because there was a long line that caused us to miss the first ferry, so we had to wait around for another half hour.  But it was ok, because it was a gorgeous day and there was less driving this way.  We got to see more pretty scenery from the ferry.

Seagulls creep me out but they make really pretty pictures.

When I got home, the first thing I did was add my numbers and new medal to my wall of accomplishment.

It's hard to see, but there are 2 medals on the
first hook now, because 5 hooks plus 6
medals equals not enough room.

I also inspected the small blister that formed at the base of my big toe because a tiny piece of plastic had been somehow fused to the inside of my sock, causing it to rub through the whole race.

Can you see the blister?  I swear it's there.  And
it really hurts.  And is really attractive.

And the bonus at the end of the day: My friend Cristin, who loves Lucy almost as much as I do, took her for a 2 hour walk while I was gone today.  Thanks to Cristin, Lucy was just as tired this afternoon as she was this morning:

I can't take enough pictures of her in this
position.

Despite the blister, and the hills, and the ferry waiting, today was a great day.  November was not as great, but it was still good.  Maybe it all came down to the banana.  Who knows?  I could try to analyze all of this, but in the end it wouldn't really matter, because the next race I do will be completely different.  Every race is a new experience, a new accomplishment, a new test of my physical and mental limits.  I can't wait to go again.

Life with Lucy: Mid-life crisis

This stick makes me look SO cool.

Life with Lucy: Who owns the place?

Oh I'm sorry...am I in your way?

Treadmill AKA Machine of Torture

There are very few things I really hate.  I can list them pretty briefly:

5)  driving behind someone who has forgotten to turn off their turn signal 

4)  doing laundry

3)  waiting

2)  parents who don’t take care of their children

1)  treadmills

            Yes, treadmills get the number one spot.  I find them to be machines of inane and worthless torture.  I came across an article by Runner’s World recently (I’d post the link, but their site seems to be down) about 2 people who are aiming to set the World Record for a treadmill marathon.  A treadmill marathon.  Seriously??  26.2 miles is hard enough, but you want to do it on a treadmill?  That’s 26.2 miles of running, sweating, pushing yourself to your limits, testing your inner strength and willpower, all WITHOUT GOING ANYWHERE.  Running on a treadmill is just insane. 

            There are so many reasons why I hate treadmills.  First of all, maybe this is just me, but I never quite feel balanced.  I always feel like one wrong hip movement is going to send me toppling over the side.  One misplaced footstep and I’ll be tossed backwards into the poor sap who has chosen whatever machine of gym torture finds its home behind me.  I feel awkward on a treadmill.  It's simply unnatural.

            I also hate treadmills because I am a numbers person.  And I like to beat the numbers.  Don’t ask me to explain what exactly that means, but usually it ends with me pushing the speed up way higher than I should ever be running.  And then, that 3 mile short run I was going to do?  No, those numbers don’t look big enough.  I always feel required to keep going.  No matter how bored, out of breath, and overworked I am.  Now, you could argue that I could do the same with my super high tech Nike+ GPS watch, but on a treadmill, the those numbers are huge and right in front of me and impossible to ignore.  There’s the speed, the distance, and—worst of all—the calories.  As long as that calorie number keeps going up and up, I keep going and going.  It is a race that never ends.

            And then the boredom sets in.  Here I am, trapped on this awful machine, bound by numbers, and bored.  I could stare at the TV, trying to read the closed captioning (because of course, I forgot my headphones).  Or I could look at the mirror that every gym has so strategically placed in front of the treadmills.  But once I get caught looking at the mirror, then all of a sudden I am criticizing every bouncing piece of skin that simply shouldn’t be bouncing.  Or I begin to analyze my running gait, which then sets me off balance and I have to stop and restart for fear of falling over. 

            There’s also the problem that treadmills exist inside of gyms.  And I really don’t like gyms either.  Yes, there are many people who go to gyms to work out and get in shape, and that’s great.  But there are also a group of people who go to gyms to a) show off their awesomely chiseled bodies to people who hate them for it, b) criticize people who “aren’t doing it right,” or c) get a date.  This is too much pressure for me.  Too many people watching my awkward, off-kilter, bouncy skin treadmill running.  And if they’re not watching, I’m imagining they are, which is really all that matters.

And then, on top of all of this, there’s Lucy.  I don’t just run for me.  Most of the time I’m running for her as well.  Lucy needs the energy release just as much as me.  This can’t happen while I’m on a treadmill.  Yes, I’ve seen the episodes of The Dog Whisperer where Cesar amazingly trains dogs to run on treadmills, but I have neither the resources nor wherewithal to complete this task.  Plus, I can’t see the local gyms being too thrilled about me bringing my dog along and leashing her up on the neighboring treadmill as I run for miles.  This might be frowned upon.  Those watching, judging people would yell at me.  I don’t do well with that.

And finally (I promise), the biggest reason that I hate treadmills is because of views like this:

That's the Space Needle on the left and Mt. Rainer on
the right.  Easily one of the best views in Seattle.

And colors like this:

I admit I'm not running here, but you get the point.

And sunsets like this:

I do not pay $150 a month to see this.

Why on Earth would you choose to run inside a hot, stuffy, smelly gym full of watchful eyes when you could be outside, in the world?  I fully acknowledge rainy, miserable days (I do live in Seattle), but in all honesty, I’d still rather be outside running somewhere in a 30 degree sleet/snow mix than running nowhere on a treadmill.  But hey, maybe that’s just me.  I'm a person who likes to be going places.

What do you think?  Am I just amazingly biased against treadmills or do you agree?  Leave a comment!

Life with Lucy: Impressions

I do impressions.  This one is called "Fetal Pig."