Boulder.

Dear Diary,

This morning Sweet Baboo and I had a short run and then headed for Ironman Village to pick up our race pack. We are expecting perfect racing conditions on Sunday but it rained all yesterday afternoon, night, and into this morning, so the grassy field next to Boulder High school was a wet, sloppy mess.

For this race they gave us a backpack and a small bike multitool kit. And there were a few changes since the last time I did this one...no number on the bike, just our body markings and the stickers all over the bike. The race number with my name on it will be worn during the run. There are TWO bike claim stickers, so Baboo and I can each have one.

I'm busy packing my bags. Korbie has directed me to eat solid food throughout the race. Not a lot, just enough to keep something in my system. I've done this during ultras but not during an iron distance race. It will be interesting. I think it might help.

I'll be wearing my bike shorts and tri top Under my sleeveless wetsuit. I have corrective goggles, and anti fog stuff for them. I am to eat one of my protein bars about an hour before i swim. It may be as cold as 50 degrees (air temp) at the start

Bike bag: my pointy alien head race helmet, mountain bike shoes, regular cycling socks, Sportslick, and a ziplock bag containing my noon thyroid medication, four protein bars (one i am to eat IMMEDIATELY) and a couple of gels.

Bike special needs bag: i'm not preparing one. I'm too paranoid of not making the cutoffs, I will ride as continuously as i can. A small red bull will be de-gassed Saturday and go into a small bottle on my bike. I have to reach mile 56 by 1:30 and 86 at 3:30 and be off the bike by 5:30 pm. This is a source of great anxiety for me since I'm such a crappy cyclist, and because: hills. I will not be carrying a hydro pack. It's too unweildy and adds weight. I am worried about the possibility of an afternoon thunderstorm. I'm supposed to have a protein bar every 2-3 hours.

Run bag: underarmour mesh running shirt, raceready shorts, injinjis, and Newtons. Another packet of bars and gels and another degassed red bull. I'll be switching from corrective bike goggles to lightweight transition lens glasses and a hat. I have to be at mile 12.9 of the run by 8:50, turnaround at mike 16.5 at 9:40 pm. The third run cutoff is Boulder high school at 22.7 at 11:15 pm. Unless I'm injured or throwing up, i'm not worried about the run cutoffs. Protein bars every 2-3 hours. Headlamp, because, lets face it. I am not a pre-sundown kind of girl.

Tomorrow, I'll take Danger Kitty to the t1 area.

After that, it's over but the sweating, crying, and swearing.

...

 

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Numbers: a Thursday Thirteen.

Me, at six

Dear Diaries,

1. SIX. Does anyone being six? I have a vague recollection of being given a Barbie, which was boring and stupid and was immediately put in all manner of peril for me and my friends to rescue. I wore Sears Tuffskin jeans, which made climbing trees easier. I was loved. The world was a safe, predictable place. That was pretty much my world.

I ask you to hold onto the idea of being six for a moment while I share a little about where I work.

2. FOUR. In the state of New Mexico, there are four acute-care hospital units where children under 18 go when they are out of control, psychotic, or suicidal. There used to be more, but nothing is more non-profit than children’s behavioral health, so they’ve all shut down, until just four are left, for a state of over a million people, a state with the seventh highest youth suicide rate in the United States.

3. TWO. In New Mexico, only two of the four acute units are non-profit. Both in Albuquerque, each takes patients from Albuquerque and most of the rest of the state.

4. TWELVE. We have twelve beds total, on the unit.

5. SIXTEEN. We would like to have sixteen beds, but that requires remodeling. Re: above and non-profitability of children’s behavioral health. We make enough to pay the bills. Nothing's left over. Every corner than can be cut has been cut. Most of the children we see live well below the poverty level--New Mexico has the second highest child poverty rate in the nation. Many are in state custody, having been abused, and many have mental retardation, or autism, or both. Every staff member in the unit has bought toys or other supplies out of the their own pockets.

6. ONE. We are the only private non-profit acute psychiatric unit for children in the state. The other non-profit, a university medical sciences center, sends us kids they don't feel they can handle.

7. ONE. I used to be puzzled as to why a major state university health sciences center couldn’t handle a pediatric behavioral patient. Then, one day as we were considering whether to take a patient who required one-to-one staffing, I realized that we needed only to consult one suoervisor, and then a staff member is called in, usually within one day. I suspect that at this other, university-affiliated hospital it requires several requisitions, forms, and an act of the state senate to get more staff.

8. EIGHT. The entire hospital system I work for is run by a foundation. They use extra money to build other hospitals, and now there are eight.

9. EIGHT. I have an ER list set up on my computer that gives me the ages and reasons for being in the ER. No names—just age and reason for being in the ER. It keeps me prepared for possible admissions, because I alone on the unit am the therapist, social worker, and insurance reviewer.

10. ELEVEN. Eleven people are on the board of trustees. Every year they hold a major fundraiser, which benefits some part of the hospital. This year, they chose our unit. The benefit is held in August of every year, and includes a fancy sit-down dinner, comedian, silent auctions, and raffle. Here’s a link.

11. SIX. Remember six? Last week I received a call from a local therapist asking me if I could do a suicide assessment on a six-year-old who is in child protective custody. This child is in treatment foster care and had been hoarding knives and threatening to kill himself. I told the therapist to take him to our emergency room for an evaluation.

12. SIX. Before I left for the day, I consulted the ER list to see if any six-year-olds had been brought in. There was, indeed, a six-year-old who was in the ER for a suicide assessment.

13. In fact, there were TWO.

...

 

 

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More on that later.

Dear Diary,

This week I decided I wasn't hydrating enough. As in, I go all day barely drinking anything. To get me back into the habit of drinking regularly, I've started drinking diet soda and flavored water to make me more likely to drink.

Cheaper than coffee.

But do you think the doctors where I work appreciate that? Noooooo. Yesterday, I walked into rounds and plopped this into the middle of the table:

 

 

 

Shrieking and hysterics ensued.

What is THAT? What's in there? What are you drinking?

Before I continue with my story it behooves me to introduce new characters: Dr. Zen and Dr. Drama.

Both are MDs, hence the unsolicited advice on my 64-ounce morning repast. Both are board certified specialists, which is why they work with me on the children's psychiatric unit.

Dr. Zen has been a child psychiatrist for decades, He's often pretty mellow, though he is not without some occasional flights of fancy. He does a lot of thinking, often for so long that he needs reminding, "we'll know what you're thinking when it's in the chart. Please put it in the chart." He haaaaates technology and is quite put out and offended by its intrusion into his life. I can't communicate with him by any other means than telephone. But when he does write his reports they are quite an entertaining read. They are a lengthy narrative containing every detail one could need on the life of a child in our unit. He teaches all the kids breathing and meditation, and spends hours with families in person or on the phone. He is much more interested in getting kids services and therapy than most. He looks a little like John Denver.

Dr. Drama really, really wants to be mellow, but he's prone to exageration and some catastrophising. He gets a bit dramatic at times, e.g., "can you call [dr. X] in [town]? I can't speak to him! He makes my ears bleed!" This said with much emphasis and some flailing, and then perhaps anecdotes. Note: Dr. Drama hates, for the record, the nickname Dr. Drama, so shhhhhh. His reports are tight, structured, clear, rarely contain adverbs but use words and phrases that frankly, I think are overly complicated. "... hit his head on the wall, causing epitaxis." (Nosebleed). Or, "several self-inflicted cuts on her left lateral iliac crest" (hip). Dr. Drama likes technology. It's not unusual to get a text from him: pls find play thrpst for 12 y.o. Fem. that takes BCBS. (Please find me a play therapist for a 12 year old girl that takes Blue Cross insurance) perhaps at 7 on a Saturday night, for his clinic patients, which is not part of my duties. And then i do, and he buys me chocolate. It's a system that's working well.

ANYway, I figured that for the morning I'd better come clean and get all the recriminations out of the way. Like ripping off a bandaid.

"What I have here, gentlemen, is Diet Mountain Dew, and a little fruit punch. I'm trying to hydrate more. And some ice," I added.

The furor that followed surprised even me. I sipped my half gallon of caffeinated goodness calmly, while they freaked out.

Apparently, not fans of diet soda. They told me I'm killing myself slowly with my 64 ounces of poison in a cup. It might as well be antifreeze. I'm messing with neuroreceptors in my brain! Why can't I just drink water? With a little LEMON? Oh, THE HUMANITY! MOUNTAIN DEW IS PEOPLE!! PEEEEOPPLLLLLLLL!!!

 

The lecture and arguing over my choice of breakfast beverages lasted about twenty minutes, and then it was over. I promise to try drinking some plain water, can we get on to talking about patients please?

For the record, I am the lead social worker and therapist for a 12-bed inpatient children's unit (soon to be 16 beds, More on that later.) at a local hospital. I've spent much of the past 3-4 months months while Sweet Baboo has been at various army trainings (More on that later.) reading and studying and attending workshops honing skills in the area of CBT play therapy. I use sandtray for now, mainly.

Behold my collection:

And yes, it is fun collectiong them. I frequently find myself reluctant to let anyone, much less a child, play with a new miniature I've bought. But then. I get over myself.

Last Sunday, I did an Olympic tri, the first triathlon I've done in several years. Ugh. It was fun. Sorta. But kinda hard. I have serious reservations about the upcoming. Ironman Boulder. More on that later.

 

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Weekend #2 looms. Thursday 13.

I look almost like a runner here.

Dear Diary,


13.  Number 1 and 2 are done, and I lost one toenail.  Well, 1-1/2.  




12.   At the Nashville marathon expo, I did one of those things where you fill out a piece of paper for a drawing, and then get added to an email list.  
But lo and behold, Tuesday, I got an email from Brooksrunning telling me I won a pair of shoes, how cool is that?  So, I just got to pick out a pair.


11.  So, then, I still have my free pair coming from the Kalamazoo marathon, as well, because I was the first person in new Mexico to sign up.   So, two free pairs of shoes.  Win-win.

10.  So far, only two kids have bolted by my office today (as always, followed closely by adults talking into radios)

9.  Every year I have wanted to be involved, some how, in the annual Women's Distance Festival.  There is training every Saturday, and then the final 5K, which is women only.  At the finish, you get a flower and a piece of chocolate. 
So, the Daughter Project and I have signed up to volunteer.  She and I will also start working on the "Couch to 5K Running Plan" from Cool Running, to do her first 5K.  She said she doesn't want to walk this; she wants to at least jog it.



The number 1 I'm signalling means
first marathon, not that I'm number one.  LOL.

 8.  I turned in my last final exam last night.  So, yeah.  I had me some spinach dip and chips for breakfast this morning. You bet.  I also had some diet Mt. Dew and Diet Cranberry juice because, well, I wanted to make it a fully balanced meal.  So, I had, well, dairy, dairy fat, chips, chip fat, and diet soda. There you go. 



Part of the spectating at Flying Pig

 8.  I bought a new SpiBelt at the expo last weekend, as I had lost my other one.  The new ones SUCK.  You practically explode your gels trying to get them in or out of them.  DO NOT BUY THIS, or don't buy the ones that "hold gels". 



Himself rented us a convertible for the weekend.



7.  My daughter went with me to the monthly meeting of the Albuquerque Road Runners.  She kept looking around and saying, "I'm the fattest one here."  She didn't seem distressed by this, but at the same time, I have to start telling her that it's not useful for her to be comparing herself to others; it will eat you up.  I only started enjoying myself when I stopped doing that.  

  6.  I actually got a blister this past weekend, on the top of one of my toes.  Also, I have two very sore toes that I keep stubbing on things.  I'm really hoping that in two days my feet will be better.  52.4 miles is a long way to go on feet that don't feel good.

 

Runners headed across the first Ohio River crossing.



It was a bit moist out.





The back of my Flying Pig marathon.



Me, at the finish Swine.
That isn't a peace sign.  That's me
signalling: #2.

5.  So the plan for the weekend; Fly into Chicago.  Drive to Kenosha.  Run a marathon.  Drive to Kalamazoo. Run another marathon.  Fly home.

4. I was showing a new runner my wall of medals, and that's when I realized: I have no new triathlon finisher medals.  Hmm.  Need to do something about that....

3. I meet kids, from time to time, who tell me that they like to run; it makes them feel better.  it's all I can do not to leap out of my chair well then go run, kid!  Instead, I do my therapy face, and give my speech about how everyone deals with their stuff differently...  

2.  So, I ate an entire jar of tostitos creamy spinach dip.  So sue me.  

1.  I would have posted sooner, but they are getting better at making it harder for me to get hold of my pictures without paying for them.  YEESH.  They are pictures of mE!  If post them on the web, I will have them. So here we go...

Next up: The Cheesiest, and The Inaugural Kalamazoo.

It's Wednesday, and I smell like gas.

Dear Diary,

There are apparently a lot of bad karma nuggets floating around out there this morning and it all landed on me. I didn't hear it land on me. I imagine that if I had, it would have sounded wet and heavy. Like shit.

I left the house this morning at 7:20ish, plenty of time to get to work. I waved at my neighbor who was outside watering her lawn.  I knew I had to get gas. It was impossibly cold and windy, so I was already not looking forward to that. When the light turned green, I realized I'd left my wallet (and gas card) at home, so I hung a U and went back to get it. As I tend to scatter things around my home, it was not easy to find. But I did find it. 

Sweet Baboo, meanwhile, had alrady given me his gas card because he knows that quite often, things just disappear and he loves me enough to not allow me to stomp around the house swearing and accusing the dog and cats of hiding my stuff. 

As I left the house again, I turned the corner and waved for the second time to my neighbor who was still outside, watering. She waved back, puzzled look on her face. Then the cup of mountain dew/cranberry juice in my cup holder sloshed and spilled into my cup holders.  I rolled down the window to pour a bit out, but then I hit a bump and it all went out. Dammit. There goes my morning caffeine. I needed to hurry.  I had a client coming in first thing, so I could not linger. 

Okay.  I know that there is a Starbucks on the way to the gas station, with a drive-through.  I headed back down to the gas station. On the way there, I realized I'd forgotten my lunch - left the Lean Cuisine boxes sitting right on the counter. I debated weather or not to go get them, and decided that I would decide at the gas station. Meanwhile, I was already racking up some self-pity, so I took a coupon out to go to Starbucks, and got myself a caramel macchiato.

As I pulled away from the drive through I heard the loud and unmistakable sound of my car's body molding scraping the curb. Dammit. I used napkins from my glove box to soak up all the spilled mountain dew in my cup holder and threw them away in the trashcan that, thankfully, Starbucks always seems to have next to their drive-through.

At least I had my caffeine! I headed down to the gas station, and sat inside my car while the gas went into the tank, sipping my coffee. I head a loud click signalling that the nozzle had finished, but apparently this wasn't my gas pump that made that noise, because when I pulled out the nozzle, a lot of gas spewed out - not on me, thank goodness, but you know how the smell of gas is. It gets into your body and clothes and doesn't let go. I can still smell it now, an hour later, sitting at my desk.

SO. I left the gas station and, smelling strongly of gasoline, decided that I did indeed want my Lean Cuisine, and so drove home to get my lunch.  I drove home, car windows down to try to air myself out, heat blasting because it's so damned cold outside. I got home, grabbed my lunch, headed out, waved at my neighbor AGAIN who by now must think I'm completely insane.  I tried reminding myself of the good things, at least I have a gas card, at least I have lunch, at least I have a car, at least I have a job, and it's not that I've ever not had those things, mostly, but there were times in the past that my grasp on them was tenuous, at best.

I drove to work like a crazy woman, quickly and aggressively to get there early enough to get settled, and so as not to miss my first appointment.

Who did not show up.

...

Dear Diary,

13.  My standard rule regarding my weight ticker is that once I've hit a weight and kept it there for a week, I change my ticker, whether it be up or down. This week, a new low: 146.

12.  Then I got a Groupon for a local Greek restaurant, and ate a shitload of Greek food, and Poof!  Back up to 148, for a day or two, but then dropped again.

11. So, yes, I got THE CALL on Tuesday morning, would I like to come and interview for an internship at the VA?  Oh, wait, let me think HELL YES I would.  So, my interview was today, at noon.

10.  I went to my favorite clothing store to see about getting something decent to wear for the interview.  As a former teacher, I had few summer work clothes to begin with.  In the past two years, the only ones I've amassed are too big.  So, I stopped to get a nice warm-weather office jacket at my favorite store.

While I was at the store I tried on some slacks.  What size, said the sales lady.  "8".  I replied.  She brought me some 8s.
Um.  Miss?  Well....These are too big.

She brought me 6s.  They fit - just a tad snug, but they have spandex in them, so they work.  For the first time since I was a junior in high school, I'm in this newer, lower number.  Cool.

9.  WELL.  Should I be a slave to numbers?  Well, I am anyway, so it might as well be a small one.

WHY am I so hung up on this number?

But the weird thing is taht when I looked into the mirror, I didn't see a smaller number.  I saw--in the words of David Letterman--my pasty white thighs.

*sigh*

I'll just focus on the smaller, new number, and ignore the pasty white thighs.

8. So, I walk into this interview with a sense of confidence because I know a lot of shit.  Being smaller doesn't hurt either .

7.  The interview was a highly structured interview where people took turns asking questions.  I hope I had good answers. Nobody frowned and tapped their pens impatiently.  Nobody looked bored, or unhappy.  Most of the time, they were smiling.

Why do you want to do an internship at the VA?

Tell us about a time you had a conflict where you worked, and how you resolved.

In what way have you used social work in your previous work?

Occasionally there is no stipend available.  Are you still willing to do the internship if that is the case?

How have you worked with veterans in the past?

What strengths do you have to bring to this experience?

and so on...right up to my favorite (and last) question:

What software applications, if any, are you proficient in?

Seriously?  This is the last question? The one that will, hopefully, resound after I leave?

I was flustered for a moment, but just a moment.  Then I said, That's hard for me to answer.  I mean, 'proficient'...I've taught excel, and powerpoint, at the college level, and conducted training in web authoring.  I guess I'm what you might call a 'power user'.  I use email, I spent all day these days using Word.  I'm familiar with your computerized record system; I've used it.  

Smiles all around.

And then I asked my questions.  And then, well, it was over.  It's all over except for the waiting.  It's a highly competitive internship.

6.  Here in 'Burque, where I live, we had Ladies Night at the local cycling store, The Kickstand.  These beyond cool.  There was wine, beer, snacks, and people who represented various cycling interests. I showed up in Outlaws Multisport Regalian, to, you know, represent.  

5. AND, I broke down and bought a pair of cycling knickers this week.  yes--cycling.  Knickers.  I also committed to doing Albuquerque's first women-only triathlon, to be held in August.  I'm very excited about such a thing being in New Mexico.  The finishers will get necklaces, and they are planning a very basic sprint course.  If you live in Albuquerque, come out to Rio Rancho to support this event.  http://livelovetri.blogspot.com/

4.  I also put in my name for the La Luz trail run, which is a local run that happens every year.  I don't think it raises money for charity.  It's 9 miles long.

Oh, c'mon.  You know there has to be a catch.

Well,

Take a gander:





 I know, right?  RIGHT?  I mean, how could I NOT?  It's a 9-mile climb to the top of a mountain.  The mountain is just a few miles from my house.

So, it's a lottery.  I'll find out April 16th if I was selected.

3.  I'm not sure why a kid would show up in an office where someone is deciding if they need mental health treatment and swear constantly at their parent, call them foul names, and believe that it's going to end any way but bad for them.  I really don't.

2.  This is my last build weekend.  10 miles tomorrow, 24 miles on Saturday, and 17 miles on Sunday.

1.   After this weekend, I start tapering down to the first double at the end of the month.  In the meantime, I have assignments to finish, and internships to (hopefully) win.  And numbers to obsess over.  I don't know if things will turn out the way I want them to turn out. For this double coming up, I haven't kept my training up the way I should have.  But for the rest of it, the internship, the La Luz lottery, it's not up to me any longer.  So I'll just focusing on relaxing, and accepting what happens.

...

Into the wind. Thursday 13

Dear Diary,

13.  I should be reading chapter 9 and 10 in this book, but instead, I'm doing this.

12.  I am signed up to do the Country Music marathon as the first of four marathons in 10 days. The country music marathon is on April 30, and will undoubtedly be hideous, commercial, and crowded.  Plus, I HATE country music.  So why am I doing it?  Because it will give me Tennessee, state #13.  I don't plan to stick around for food or anything else, because the deep South scares me so.  So it's on to Ohio right after the marathon.  It is hillier than I imagined it would be.  I had hopes of breaking five hours - I don't think it's going to happen here.

April 30 - Country Western Marathon Elevation

11. RatBastard commented to a fellow therapist that some people had referred to him as "creepy".  I was startled, but then I remembered:

a) I normally just refer to him as RatBastard, or Mordac.  Not creepy.

b) Many of the people I have spoken with refer to him as creepy.  So it's not always about me.

10.  I am signed up to do the Flying Pig marathon on May 1, as marathon #2 of this debacle.  I have never been to Cincinatti before, but have been intrigued by this marathon since before I did marathon, when, indeed, I would have described my likelihood of ever doing one.  I understand that while in Cincinatti, I am supposed to try something called "a skyliner."  I may break my ban on hotdogs and have one at this place, especially after running 52 miles in 2 days.  This will give me Ohio, state #14.

May 1 - Cincinatti Course Profile

9. No word on the internship yet.  I understand that today is their deadline for deciding who to interview, so I will wait for the rest of the day, ignoring people and staring at my cell phone: ring, phone, ring.

8.  I'm signed up for the Wisconsin marathon as #3 in this experience, on May 7.  This will give me state #15.  I love that the marathon finisher's medal is a piece of cheese, and I love that they bill this marathon as "The Cheesiest."  Don't let the profile scare you.  Look at the numbers on the side, and also understand that I'll have five days of rest between marathons #2 and #3.  There's 40 feet between the highest and lowest points.  I think you have 6.5 hours to finish, and I might need them, too.   This, then, might represent a chance to break five hours.

May 7 - Wisconsin Marathon

7.  Yesteday I got to start doing my favoritist run EVAR again.  This is the one where I take off from home about 5:15 and run 2 miles uphill and then a long 4-mile gentle downhill, to where Sweet Baboo sit, with engine running and a Starbucks, to carry me back home.

6.  Finally, I am signed up for the Inaugural Kalamazoo marathon as the fourth marathon of my double-double in early May. This will be state #16.  The Kalamazoo marathon wanted to get people from every state for their first marathon, so they offered incentives to those who were the first to sign up from their state.  As planned by Sweet Baboo, I was the first from New Mexico.  So, the incentives: They are going to refund my entry fee, and give me a free pair of New Balance 890s, and all the fifty-staters get their own starting tent separate from the other marathoners.  Not a bad way to finish out this series.   I imagine new shoes will be nice to have; I imagine after 3 marathons my road shoes will be pretty flattened down.

May 8 - Kalamazoo Marathon

5.  Sweet Baboo bought me an early Mom's day present - he's still filling in for the kids that don't give me anything for mother's day (other than a grudging, 'whatever.  happy mother's day' after I've gone into graphic detail the pain of their birth.)  Anyway.  He bought me a Garmin 310XT.  I LOVE this thing.  It's smaller, and lighter (I'm fussy about things on my wrist) and it vibrates every mile, so that I don't have to keep looking at it, and when I get home, I just sent it down in front of my computer while I shower, and it uploads itself.

4.  In June, I'll be capturing state #17, Wyoming, the Bighorn Ultra.  It's a 50 mile race because I was stupid enough to wait until the 50K was full.  I figure that other than miles where I'm going sharply uphill, it's pretty doable.  Maybe not enjoyable, but doable.

3.  I discovered this week why I leave home before 7:30.  It's because, apparently, those people prone to get into accidents leave home at 8:00.

2.  Today I ran up a hill, into the wind, down a hill, into a wind, and on the loop I ran I was into the wind on the way out and into the wind on the way back.  How is this possible?  Because I live in fucking New Mexico.  That's how.  

1.  I had the unique pleasure of having my annual physical exam today.  Here are the order of events:

1) Nurse, who has known me for ten years, calls me back.  First stop: the SCALE.

2) I step on the scale.  She jots down 148.  

3)  We go into the exam room, where she opens the computerized charting system to enter my information in...and...

then she hesitates.  Looks at the chart. Looks at the paper she jotted down on.  

The chart, which has last year's weight, says 178.

"Did I measure you at 148?"

"Yes."

"You've lost thirty pounds since last year?"

"Yes"

Now, what made this such a momentous occasion is that every single EVERY SINGLE year I have had my physical exam during the annual uptick in my weight. After I put on my winter weight.  So his chart for me, over the years, said

165...160...170...158...165...160...165...170...178...148.

Oh, yeah.  That's right. I impressed my doctor.  He was all happy before at the drop in my resting heart rate.  

ohhhh yeahhhhh.

....

13 Peepy Things.

Dear Diary,

Peeps rumble.

13.  Ever have one of those verbal interchanges with someone who is so nasty and condescending, telling you in every word that they think you're an idiot, and questioning your every bit of professional competence, so  that it's all you can do not to snap your fingers, bob your head side-to-side, and say, BITCH - I WILL CUT YOU                                                                             
?
Oh. well.  No, me neither.

12.   I. love. American Nijnja Warrior.  I'm not ashamed to say it.  If you love it too, you'll love this commercial.

11.  There is a woman in my family therapy class who--well, I have to back up a bit.  As part of our class requirements, we have to partner up with someone and do a role play.  The role play is to simulate a family therapy session.  Two people, family role play.  Yeah, I know.  But anyway.

Peeps sushi rolls (with fruit roll-ups in
place of seaweed wraps, and
marshmallow rice crispies.  

So this woman, she watches each role play with a checklist in front of her, and then at the end of each role play, she tells people what they got, and what they missed.  She is not the teacher, nor is she a practicing therapist; she is a student, actually less experienced than many of her fellow students who are beginning to grind their teeth with hatred for her. When she does this we all kind of roll our eyes at each other.  I wonder if she knows how much she is mocked.  Probably not.  Anyway. If you do this, go ahead and stop.  You're pissing everyone off.

10. Countdown the end of the semester - I turned in an application last week to interview for an internship at the VA hospital.  If I get it, not only will I possibly be a step closer to actually working there one day, but it will be terrific experience.  I had decided that for my final internship year I wanted to work with grownups, or at the very least, clients who no longer lived with their parents. The VA is at the forefront of the latest in evidence-based treatments for mental disorders, including PTSD, and I love their non-woo-woo, show-me-the-research attitude.

If I got this, I could commute in with Sweet Baboo twice a week.  Now I'm sitting on my hands waiting for the cell phone to ring.  RING, phone.  RING.  We are admonished to take the first internship we are offered, so I have put off interviewing for any others until this one.  This means that other openings are drying up.  If they don't call, well, then I may be totally screwed.

The Trouble With Tribbles, starring
the Peeps.

9.  I thought I got a D on one of my midterms, but I was wrong; I got a B-.  Suh-weet!  I've been bummed about that all week.  I'm muchly cheered up.  My other midterms I got a B+ and an A-.

8.  I hit a new low this week: 145.  I don't put it on the ticker until I've held it for a week, so we'll see if it sticks.  I tend to hit my low on Wednesday after days of eating lightly and being dehydrated.  Still, it is a new low, so we'll see.  Dehydrated weight counts, right?  Sure it does.

7.  Believe it or not, even PC therapists say some very non-PC things, like when watching reality shows on A&E, like Hoarders and Heavy.  I wish I could share them with you.  But they would be way too offensive.

Bucket o'Peeps

6.  PEEPS!  PEEEEEPS!  That is all.

5.  The daughter experiment is better.  I put her on a schedule, which I figured would result in resentment and rebellion, but she seemed relieved, and is following it.  It divides up her day so that she is more productive.  Somewhat.

What makes all this interesting is that I teach an NEO in family systems at work twice a month.  I have 30 minutes to teach family systems.  yes.  So, but what I highlight is how we often slip back into our roles when we're around our family of origin, no matter what strides we have taken to become self-actualized human beings since leaving home.  Ergo, I present to you my visual aid: My daughter, who is no longer 23, she is a boy-crazy teenager.

4.  I binged on Japanese food today.  I know that seems like a contradiction in terms, but *urp*.

3.  I attended a DBT workshop today, and am ready to get down with my Wise Mind.  Honk if you know what that means.

2.  So I'm not running today.  I'm exhausted.  I've been getting progressively less sleep and rest at the week wears on, and I can feel  it, that sick, empty feeling you get when you're short on sleep.  And it's hell on my skin. Once a bad lifestyle choice begins to affect me cosmetically, look out. So I'm giving myself permission to ditch my run tonight, even though that will put me about 13 miles behind for the week.  I will rest and sleep.  The current plan: run about 10 miles tomorrow when I get home.  It's a seminar day, I expect to be well-rested.

Then, Saturday morning, heading out with some peers for a long hike in the mountains (about 12 miles, after which I'll run home to finish out another 5 miles.  Then Sunday, a 22-mile, mostly flat or downhill run.  Then I'll be all caught up.

1.  I'm considering the Mt. Si run in Washington state in April.  It just came up.  Himself is doing a training there, so he'll be there the week of, so all we have to do is foot the bill for my plane fare.  Plus, it will give me state #13: Washington.  Hmm.  I keep ya posted.

...

2011: THE YEAR OF UNBRIDLED OPTIMISM, and the dawn of the Tuesday Twelve

Dear Diary,

12: Saturday, 1/1/11, I got up to do a 20-mile run, and it was eleven degrees out. I thought that a particularly cruel joke.

But...I had put on a pound or two during the tween Xmas and Newyears fest known as "Eat all you can", so I headed out in 3 wicking shirts, a cycling jacket, fleece hat, neoprene face mask, gloves, thermal tights--everything a different color, looking not unlike a big sloppy and very gay ninja.

11.  For the record, eleven degrees is some pretty miserable shit.  You get that little layer of moist sweat going while you run, and you don't get to stop, because if you do, even indoors, you immediately become chil-l-l-l-l-l-led.

10: Fueling your race: FAIL. My first 6.5 miles Saturday was to run to DP's house, where I had jokingly asked ahead of time if there would be bacon.  When I got there, her beloved put down a plate in front of me

"What is this?"

"It's English Bacon," said DP's beloved, who is from Scotland.  English bacon is like little tiny pork chops.  I ate pieces repeatedly until it occurred to me that perhaps the reason the plate was in the middle of the table was because it was for the whole family.  >Whoops<.  I stopped eating it and looked away when the Mr. questioned the children on how much they had eaten.  La-la-laaaaaah.....

It didn't make me faster.  In fact, along with the accompanying sausage, and toast with butter, it may have weighed me down.  A bit.

9. THIS is my heritage, btw.  I joined ancestry.com during 2009 and played with it for a while, and hoped for something more exotic, but no: English.  Period.  Which means my heiritage is unhealthy, fatty meaty food, syntax and grammar rules routinely broken, bad teeth, and very dry humor.

8: So.  I was so distracted by the fantastic bacon that I forgot to drink my gatorade and refill my bottle.  I draink one bottle over 13 miles, got carb depleted, and DP had to wait for me quite a number of times.

DP, as Ninja Warrior of the West.

I landed at the 4-mile Egg Nog Jog tired, a bit dizzy, dehydrated, with the pain in my leg becoming very annoying.  And it was still ass-biting cold. 

<-- DP looked all sleek, like a real ninja.

7: I skipped the egg nog and took a short nap in a car instead. After the run, we all went over to another friend's house for beans, pasole, and baked goods.  After THAT, I went home, to a warm doggie, hot bath, and nap, not necessarily in that order.

6. After THAT, himself wanted pizza.  I got myself a family-sized salad with greens, blue cheese, chicken, and walnuts with lowfat ranch. Mmmm. They provided paper plates, serving forks, and 4 forks for me...ADORABLE!  I guess some people share their family-sized salad or something.  Well, I shared the family plate of bacon--I wasn't sharing this. I ate half of it for dinner and then finished the rest the next day by heating it up and having it with some egg beaters.

5.  Himself got many Lowes' gift cards for presents, and will also get a big fat signing-bonus from the guard this year.  Aside from paying off bills, a project is to make the house more energy efficient and water efficient and secure.  I promise to bore you as much as possible with details on this.  For instance, redoing the front yard.  I'm looking for clean ways to get rid of well-established grass, if anyone has any ideas.

4. I know that 2011 is going to be better.  (It has to be.)  I predict a kick-ass year full of wonder and joy.  I do. I refuse to be convinced otherwise.  This time last year I was 25 pounds heavier, depressed, anxious, and had lost a lot of fitness.  I'm already starting the year ahead.

3.  For one thing, I will be eligible for the independently licensed therapist license this year, which means a raise and greater job prospects.

2.  Rather than "resolutions" I've made a to-do list, which includes some of the things I put in my earlier post about plans for 2011, as well as stuff like, clean out the spare room.  Nothing about being a better, kinder, more patient person, blah blah blah.  Just a cleaner one, fitter one, and maybe a saner one.

1.  Two weeks to the final Ghost Town 38.5 - I signed up for this because it's the last year she's having it, so why not.  I'm worried about the achy spot above my achilles, but when I take diclofenac, it feels way better, and I really wanted to try to do this run faster.  So, we'll see.

Recovery.

Dear Diary,

I've been having a hard time recovering from my100K a month ago.  I mean, I can go out pretty fast on tiny little short flat runs, up to about 10K, but somewhere around 11-12 miles I've been blowing out on my long runs.  It's as if my legs are slowly recharging and each little run empties them out again.  I start slowing down pretty dramatically and my legs feel HEEAAAAVVVVY.

I hadn't been running any trails until earlier this week for the first time since then, and felt like I had never ever run trails.  Ever.  I forgot that running and climbing these hills is kind of like climbing stairs.

Today, though, I felt better.  We did a hilly 10k behind our house, Baboo and I, along with Bones, Wingman, and DP, and the first part I was having a hard time catching my breath but then I felt like I found my stride.  Baboo carried a flour bottle and marked turns in the run because they were so far ahead, which was helpful. I finished about a 10K and then finished my 10 miles by running down to Einstein's bagels,  and got a bagel thin egg white sandwich thing, which is "a limited time only" but I hope they offer it longer because it was just enough.  I got a total of 10 miles in, and felt like I could have run longer, which is the first time I've felt anything like that since Javalina.

So maybe I'm finally coming back.  But am I coming back enough to do the double this next week?  I imagine that whatever's in my legs today will be gone by next Sunday night.  I'm leaning back towards just saying, fuckit, put on my Elvis costume and wig and run the half, and have fun at Vegas, where they insist on telling me that I can run the full OR renew my vows on the course, but I can't do both, given the whole 5:30 cutoff.  Turds.

But I have hope.  I have hope that this winter I'll be able, somehow, to keep running.  This will be quite a trick, because I'll have classes Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays.  I'll be tweaking my training plan to adjust for the fact that three days, I simply can't run during 14 hour days. Thursdays I'll try to knock out a 10K, and then on weekends, I'll load up the missing miles by doing back-to-back long runs to condition me for the doubles I'm doing in May.  One of those long runs will have to be on trails.

I'm having some whisperings from my IT band.  Actually, it started as whisperings and now has worked its way to muttering.  I think it might be because I've been using the same shoe constantly.  I'm going to go back to switching my shoes out.  And speaking of shoes, I found out that there is a trail show built on the same last as the shoes I already love, which are mens shoes.  I'm going to get a pair and see how I like them.

...

Plan Work Whine Reflect: Thursday 13.

13.  Plan. I'm going to spend some time getting good at 50-milers for 2011.  That's my goal.  I'm considering Old Pueblo again.  We'll see.  Baboo may not be available for Old Pueblo, so I'll have to find a way to get out there and back.  Normally, I wouldn't mind that, but the last time I tried to drive after being up late I nearly killed myself.

12.  Work. I was offered the teaching job after all.  However, it turned out to be a temp job with stimulus money.  I couldn't see quitting a permanent job for a temp one, so I turned them down graciously.  Meanwhile, I'm relieved to have been picked, considering the dismal performance I put on at my interview.

11. Whine. I have a cold, and it sucks. Turns out that running 100K does NOT boost your immune system in the short term.  In fact, I think the moment I quit running all the virii and baceteria in my body went, WHEEEEE! and ran through the unlocked gates to my respiratory system.  Everyone gets their cold somewhere a little different, with me, it's my voice.  I lost my voice yesterday in the middle of giving a kid an IQ test.

10.  Reflect. The other good thing about my experience: I did love the training plan. I was able to stick to it.  I became a stronger runner.  I'm going to be using that training plan again, starting at the beginning. Soooooo, next Tuesday: big 2 miles run.  Yeah, baby.

Another picture stolen from Raj.  

9.  Plan.  On the way home from JJ, we stopped at Dairy Queen. I had a salad.  OH YES I DID.  I will not gain weight during recovery.  I'm not saying that, as salads go, it was the healthiest.  I mean, it was Holbrook, Arizona, and it was Dairy Queen. It was middle-aged iceberg lettuce and some cheese.  I think I saw a tomato in there somewhere.  Still, I resisted.  I even threw away half the dressing.

8.  Work.  My one year anniversary is coming up at the children's hospital.  That means in another year, I might get a raise.  >:-(

7.  Whine. See above.

6.  Reflect.  I have new respect for the distance. (100 miles).  For the first time, stubbornness alone was not enough.  Which means I have to try again, some day.  I hate having a DNF that is unfinished.  So far, I have finished every race I DNFed in except one: Barb's Race.  My bike tire blew out completely that day, on crappy poorly maintained roads.  I finished the run, though.  Just not interested in going back to wine country and finishing a race on crappy roads in 96-degree heat.

5.  Plan. I am now searching for a good running jacket for winter.  It must be close-fitting, vented, have a zipper up the front, and reflective.  Any suggestions?

4.  Work. There are stairs leading up to my office.  Stairs.  I never really minded them until Tuesday morning.  It was a slow trip up that one flight of stairs.  I felt almost normal until I puuuuuuuled myself uuuup that third stair


--> For the record, I'm one of the few people where I work who consistently uses the stairs.  In fact, there's more than a couple people who use the elevator exclusively.  Even when coming down from the 2nd floor.  And no, it's not faster.  It's one slow-assed elevator.  

3.  Whine.  Actually, this isn't a whine.  It's an affirmation.  I publicly declare that I alone am absolutely 100% reponsible for not getting to 100 miles. I'm not going to blame the trails, or the weather, or the staff, or the race director, or any manner of things we are tempted to bitch about when things happen.  I trained for 100k.  I finished 100k. 
What I don't need is anyone telling me that I could have sucked it up and pushed harder to finish another 40 miles.  Or that I could have eaten better or drank better and finished another 40 miles.  I've accepted the fact that I wasn't trained up enough.  To say otherwise would be like saying that someone who hasn't trained for a marathon only needs to just eat and drink right, and show up, and they'll finish the whole thing.

Anyhoo....

2.  Reflect.  I was very curious about the magic wand that the guy at the Coyote Camp aid station tried to use on my knee.  I tried Googling lots of things: metal stick, metal healing rod, magnetic pain stick, magnetic rod.

Finally, just for fun, I typed in metal wand healing and started getting links to this product:

 It should be noted that, retail, this wand is $304.00.  But. if you are a distributor it will run you only around $284.00. 

Yes.  It's true.  Not only can you be scammed by the whole concept, but you can be scammed by being sucked into a multilevel marketing scheme. 
It's two-click-two-click-two scams in one!

I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking that my general wet-blanket skepticism kept it from working. Another reason not to buy it.  Advil and Tylenol work for me whether I believe in them or not.


1.  Relax.  Just for the record, the number of WeightWatchers points earned running a 60k for this GeekGirl was 82.  I didn't spend any, however, as they were all earned Saturday, and my tracking week ends Saturday at midnight.  :)



Just kidding.



You know me better than that.

I had a big-assed bowl of pasta from a decent restaurant Sunday, covered with a heap o' fatty old cream sauce.  Alfredo, I think.  I don't know.  And it was probably 3 servings.  I ate it all ALL.  Sweet Baboo ate a 16" pizza



> urp <

...

How Fast Is Slow Enough? How Slow is Fast Enough?

A little over 5 years ago I watched my husband complete his 3rd or 4th, sprint triathlon.  I also watched women doing it who were just as old and heavy as I was,some of them even older and even heavier.  And, I thought, maybe.

 The first time Sweet Baboo asked me if I would run with him shortly after that, I did a slow, shuffling jog maybe 20 yards before having to stop and walk.  It was a perfectly flat, neighborhood road, and that's all I could manage, before stopping to walk slowly, and catch my breath. It was a start.  Everything has a beginning.

It took years before I could run the whole way through a 10k, and then a half marathon, Even longer before I could run the whole way through a full marathon  I might have been able to do it faster, but I'm tentative, and afraid of being breathless at times  I still am, a little.  I call myself lazy, tongue-in-cheek, but what I really am, most of the time, is fearful.  I'm fearful of lots of things.  It's just gradually my fear of not finishing overcame  those other things.  I would do the next longer distance, sometimes going to dark places and hating it the whole time, but as soon as I crossed the finish like I would mutter to myself, "I bet I could do that better," or, "I wonder what else I can do?"

So I did my triathlons, and occasionally did duathlons and running events to support that.  Along the way I discovered, much to my (and anyone who knew me for a long time, honestly) surprise that running was my preferred sport.

I never planned on doing anything like this; it existed in some other realm of people who were the other, those people who were willing to give up time to train, which still seemed like work for me.  I had turned ankles, and IT band syndrome, and sore hips, but the soreness and the injuries would fade, and I would learn from it, and get back out there and start again.

Less often, I saw wonderful things and had wonderful feelings that, while fleeting, left me searching for me chances to feel that way.  Most of those times came with trail running, so I drifted in that direction.

I do not come from a family of outdoorsy people, like Sweet Baboo does.  My people are not runners, or even hikers.  My people are drinkers, and eaters.  The drinkers are the skinny ones  The eaters tend to live a bit longer, but not a whole bunch.  I'm not all that crazy about how either of those extremes winds up, late in life, so I went my own way.

Is a 100 miler in everyone?  Is it even in me?  I don't know.  All I know is, I'm constantly amazed as what I can get this body, now nearly 46 yeas old, to do.  When I do local 5ks and 10ks I love watching the women cross the finish line of their very first 5k or 10k, and I wonder where it will take them next. I admire all the people who do various things for charity or in honor of some dearly departed loved one because, honestly, I'm completely selfish.  This is for me.

So, tomorrow at 6 am, I'll begin a new journey.  Regardless of whether I finish 100 miles, or 100K, I'll learn something, and have a new experience I never had before.  On the other side of this experience will be lessons that I'll generalize to other parts of my life, like I always do.

So the take home message here is that you can do more than you think you can.  You can amaze yourself.  You can.  You may not want to run 100 miles.  But you can do something, I bet, that you never thought you could.

Dread Pirate will be updating to my facebook wall.

See you on the other side.

...

On choices, and judging.

I went to El Paso  a couple weeks ago with Sweet Baboo, where he was officiating at a local sprint.  When you officiate out of town, they put you up in a hotel.  I had tried to sign up for the sprint, but it was already closed, so I hung around the hotel while he was at the event.

The hotel, a decent one, had a hot breakfast.  Being as I ran 13 miles the day before, and was due to run 26 miles the day after, I helped myself.  You bet I did. 

It made me wonder what people thought.  I know that if I was still 194 pounds, there would be that judging.  No wonder she's so big.  Look at how she's eating.  What did they think now? 

There was this article, recently, about a woman who lost 100 pounds.  I already knew what the world thought, because I grew up with a mother who had been morbidly obese most of my life.  She didn't start losing it until after her heart failure was diagnosed. 

I heard the things people said, when they didn't realize I was her daughter.  I saw how they looked at her.  I heard the things they said - even when they knew I was.  Is your mom having a baby?

And, I saw how they looked at me, in my thirties, when I gained over 60 pounds.  It wasn't an overt thing, their attitude.  But coming from a background of being a so-called "normal" weight, I noticed the difference.  Store clerks ignored me. People stopped moving aside when I walked through a crowd. People didn't meet my eyes. 

I would lean over counters at places like the dry cleaners as counter people attended to others who had come in after me.  "Excuse--excuse me.  Excuse me?  Can someone help me, please?"

I know a couple of people who are less than kind when they talk about those who are overweight.  They say this to me, even knowing my history.  When I point this out, they're quick to say, oh, but you're different, Misty.  You had complications.  or, But you're different.  You finally did something about it.  I also hear the comment, and maybe I've made it, too: If you're not willing to do something about it, you don't get to bitch about it.  


Really? Because I bitch about traffic, and yet there I am, contributing to it.  I bitch about lots of things I don't do anything about.  

My story was somewhat complicated, but in the end, I figured out what worked and what I was, and was not, willing to do.  It wasn't easy; it was hard.  But it was my choice.  I would never impose it on someone else. 

Those who know me best know about the visits to the doctor, thyroid medication adjustments, the various diets tried, the sadness, the dispair, the self-loathing, the antidepressants, the tearful mornings and "secret" binges. Dread Pirate could tell you about the hundred times I emailed her during the day.  OMG, I'm so big.  I'm so slow.  I hate looking in the mirror. 

So, this is my life now: counting points, and earning points by running.  I guess I'm willing to do it, because I've slowly gotten used to it, and it's meaningful to me in order to have the self that I want.  There will be many more times in the future when I deny myself things, or have a bite only after considering the alternatives, and whether or not I can burn those calories.    

There are some out there who shrug and say, "I'm not giving up food I love."  or, "I'm not running that far - that's crazy."  That's fine; it's their right to think and do that. I just hope I'm not judged as some sort of zeolot because it's not my choice.  But the comments I've heard, and read, say they do. Everyone seems to have an opinion on what others should, or should not do, about their weight.


What am I trying to say here.  Hmm.  

Fat, and weight, and loss, are just a small sampling of the choices people have to make, and the difficulties they face.  There are others.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't judge.  They're people.  Don't be so quick to judge, to make assumptions, about the choices others make.  You don't know them. 

Regardless of whether they are among the people who have made one choice or another, those choices are never as easy; they will never be as easy as you think they are.  Their journey  is not a simple as you imagine it to be.   Their lives are never as straightforward as you suspect.

Everyone has a story.  It's sometimes useful to know the story.  But more often than not, it's more useful to just know that there is a story, and to forgive others for not making the same choices you made.  

So.  Slight change of topic: where do I go from here?  I stepped on the scale early last week and got a 149.6 pound result.  The I started carb loading, and it crept up over 150 again, for now.  But still: there it is.  It's coming.  What will I call the Athena Diaries then? 

I guess the answer to that is, Athena wasn't the goddess of weight.  She was the goddess of war, and wisdom.  She represents strength, and victory to me.  I'll always be an Athena one way or another. 

Meanwhile, the journey continues.

...