Back to my hot Podiatrist

Marathon training has officially started for good, today.  And what I mean by that is, today, although not necessarily the first day, kicked my butt.  Moderate (which is a swift) pace for 7 miles with sprints at the end.  Needless to say, I realized today just how out of shape I am AND that I need to head right on back to the Podiatrist.

I can’t even think about my Podiatrist anymore without thinking of a conversation I had with Jen the first time I went to see him.  I got out of the office, picked up my phone and called Jen to give her the low down on the bunion and then I added that not only is he brilliant, he is HOT!

She said, well he’s your type.  I’m all like…WHAT…I have a type?  What do you mean?  I’ve been with the same guy for half my life. I don’t have a type anymore.

She continued on, yeah he doesn’t really do it for me.  You know, he looks just like Adam will in 10 years.

And damn if she isn’t right…my husband is sooo HOT!

I’m just not that into the Flush

Once again I found myself doing something I said I would NEVER do.  But this time, I was smart enough to stop.  Here’s my 24 hour journey.

Adam, as you may remember, does a Fat Flush every so often.  I have never wanted to do one, until I found myself maybe wanting to do one with him.  So, we got all the supplements and all the fresh food and Thursday morning we were off and running.

I started the day with a longevity cocktail (unsweetened cranberry juice and psyllium husk) at 5:00 am.  Then ran.  Then came home to warm lemon water, fish oil, flax seed oil and an egg white, onion omelet and feeling very drained.

Finding myself still excited at this point, I went to the gym to lift.  While at the gym my body was not really wanting to do much.  When I changed out of my gym clothes and into my swim suit, walked into the pool to find no lanes open, it took me no time at all to decide that was enough, thanked the sweet baby Jesus and headed to the shower.

I got KP from child care and we head home and directly to the fridge.  At this point, my head throbbed and my muscles felt like they were simply cannibalizing each other.  My lunch of sauted (with no oil) onions, lean ground beef and tomatoes looked and smelled great, but didn’t taste like much.

The downward spiral had begun.

The rest of the afternoon got no better.  In fact, I became a raving bitch.  I’m not kidding.  The rage that sits just slightly under my surface was coming out full throddle on anybody and anything that caught my path.

By the time dinner rolled around, I was so beyond hungry.   I had that nauseous feeling and couldn’t care less about even making food.  When I did finally muster up enough gumption to make it, I just swore at it.

Then the second longevity cocktail came around at 10:30,  I thought I was going to cry.  I did my best to suck it down.  Watching Adam chug-it like a champ, only made it worse.  I went to bed…mad.

The morning sun came up, I felt ok and had an amazing poop.  But then the rush to get all the kids up, fed and out the door in 30 minutes (due to over sleeping) put me over the edge.  I walked PJ to the bus and continued on with the morning ritual of bringing the dog on her walk.

As I made it back up the drive, weak, tired and hungry, I decided it was not worth it.  Not worth my sanity.  My energy.  My strength.

I may be a walking toxic bomb, but I don’t care.

So I went inside, made myself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal with berries.  In a flash the Wicked Flush Queen transformed back into the nice girl from Minnie.

It feels so good to be back.

Making your friend feel welcome

KP had one of his school buddies, Big C, over for a play date yesterday.

When we showed up for school this morning, Big C’s mom just had to share a little story that happened at their house last night.

When Big C was being put to bed, he told his dad that he better go lock the doors and make sure they were locked.

When his dad asked why, he said, “I was playing with one of KP’s big brother’s toys.   He told me that I better not because he will hunt me down.  So can you make sure the doors are locked.”

Erika

I just realized today that Erika is the one person, next to my kids, who I photograph the most.

And since today is her birthday, I would like to show you a few of my favorites.  It was a hard decision, there are so many.

Happy 36th birthday beautiful girl!

A dog smelling its own ass

After my run on Tuesday morning, I walked down to Adam’s office to say good morning and chat for a little while.

Me:  Hi hon, I’m home.

Adam:  How was your run?

Me:  Good (my nose now up in the air sniffing around).

Adam:  What…do you smell something?  I really can’t smell anything, which is one reason Adam and I get along so well.

Me:  Yeah, it smells like something died down here.

Adam:  Really, like what?

Me:  I don’t know, but it stinks.

Adam:  Is it you?

Me:  NO!  It’s not me.

10 minutes later, Adam comes up to the kitchen after finishing his work.

Me:  Hey, I figured it out.

Adam:  You figured out what stinks?

Me:  Yeah, you’re right…IT’S TOTALLY ME!

Training mind games

I’ve hit the point in my training where speed and endurance collide.

It is this week where the speed workout, or “intensive” workouts as my training plan calls them, gain distance beyond a little 60 second clip. You ask your body to continue in full throddle the entire prescribed time, to then only allow it a few precious moments rest until you start it all over again 4 or 5 or 6 times.

It is during the past two days, while biking and while swimming, I have hit “something” during the third round in each of these intensive trainings. This “something” is a complete falling apart of everything I have, physically and mentally. It’s the point in time where my body is telling me to STOP and stop now, give up, sleep, cry anything but continue on. It’s at this point where everything breaks down, my body, my breathing, my consentration.

It’s right THERE, there is where you must bitch slap yourself into regaining control. THERE is the precise moment, if you continue, you get stronger.

I hate that moment.

And on some really sick and sadistic level…I love it too…but only when it’s over.

Mathematically challenged

Here’s the deal…when it comes to math, I ain’t so bright.

I realized last night, when I got woken up by some random two year old and then couldn’t get back to sleep, that I am embarking on a bigger deal than I ever realized.

That ½ ironman thing I signed up for. It became clear in the middle of the night why they call it the 70.3 race.

IT IS A TOTAL OF 70.3 MILES!

What have I done??? Reality is just now setting in.

Annual

Every woman gets to do it. That “once a year” visit to have your girly parts looked at.

Yesterday at my annual, I realized as I was disrobing that my socks were worn to the nubbin and hole laden on the right foot. I couldn’t figure out which was going to be better for my OB to look at while I was hang’n out in the stirrups, my hole filled sticky old socks or my nasty yellow callous filled raw feet.

I’m just going to believe that she didn’t notice my choice at all because she was so enraptured with my beautiful nether regions.

Morning run

Glad he’s not my type cause me thinks he saw my cooter

So to tell you the truth, my body aches. I have pushed it hard since February and I am feeling the ill effects of not enough rest and recovery. And the thought of October 2 (the day after the marathon) is oh so sweet and can not come fast enough.

After every one of the triathlons I did this summer, I promised myself a massage, which never happened. Now, after completing my last of the season last weekend, I finally took the gift card I had been saving since Christmas and used it today for a deep tissue massage.

Shaun was touted as their best deep tissue guy, so I took him. We discussed my problem areas (feet, hips, shoulders, especially under the shoulder blades) and he asked me if I was open to lying on my side so he could get into my hip area better. As I said “yes” it quickly dawned on me that unlike the Viking’s players he claims to have worked on, they were fully clothed in shorts and workout wear, I was going to be naked in between some sheets. Never the less I disrobed and slipped in.

Now, if you have had this type of massage before you know it is not for the faint of heart. There is no lying down and falling asleep to waterfall music and the gentle laying on of warm hands from the massage therapist. This massage is hard core, sometimes painful with lots of deep breathing just so you can make it through to the next knot…but always well worth the agony.

Shaun started at my shoulders and back, moved to my feet and legs and then went head long into my glutes. This is the part where I am now laying on my side, top leg at a 90 degree angle to my hip, bottom leg straight down and sheet, well that’s the problem…where oh where was the sheet?

Yeah, to be honest, I felt a little uneasy. I had 285 pounds of therapist pouring all his weight into my hip joint with his elbow, up and around the joint, slowly rooting out two knots that where so big that when they released my whole body slumped back down on the table exhausted.

In the midst of being tortured, I got to the point where I no longer cared about my exposed girly parts. I decided that if he was slimy enough to get a rise out of “that” then he would quickly get close enough to notice that I had not been kind enough to shower after my run in technical fibers this morning.