Okay, not really, I’m never writing to make you feel bad about yourself.
This woman. She’s a schoolteacher. A marathoner? And she takes a wrong turn on a half course and runs the full. She didn’t just run the full though. She won the full. Get it here on Gawker. I pray, I pray, that the running gods will bestow upon me a teeny tiny bit of the magic she’s got, to allow her adrenaline (and obvious athletic gifts) to push her through. (Oh, and read the comments. There are some haters with a capital ‘H’ out there….)
I know guys. It’s not quite the a humble brag, which is defined as,
a brag statement artfully planted within a slightly deprecating statement; used in order to conceal pride that would otherwise be apparent by Urban Dictionary, but almost. It’s kinda like when you post a status about that 20-miler, but you do it under the guise of “Ugh omg, annoying Family Guy was totally on when I was running my 20-miler at an 8:47 pace. Gross!” What I did would slightly be considered the humble brag because I was sort of letting folks know I work out. But it has a place. As annoying at it is, the humble brag has a valuable place in health and fitness.
The following morning, my alarm went off at about 5:20 am, and I briefly considered closing my eyes, and going back to sleep. But I remembered that I’d posted that I was going to Yoga, and then the thought of deceiving my friends and family, or not being accountable for what I’d said I’d do really made me feel uncomfortable. Plus, I wanted to get my Yoga on!
So say what you will about people who post the details of their workouts on social media, and no, we’re not talking about you who posted about tying your shoes too tight, let’s not get into the minutiae of how your workout went, however, posting about your 5k, posting about nailing a pose in yoga, posting about hitting the gym 5 times instead of your usual 3, for example, is okay, and encouraging, both to others, (believe it or not, family and friends may be inspired by your actions), and it holds you accountable to a WHOLE LOT of people. So keep up the humble brags. Well, sorta, I don’t care if you’re gonna be douchey about it, but if it keeps you accountable? Keep it up!
I had to get my tush up at around 5 to make sure I could squeeze 11 in before work this morning.
Getting up early is never fun. Like for any reason. I cannot think of a time in my life when I’ve gotten up at 5 and I’ve thought “YAY, man I’m so glad I missed out on more sleep!” the one rose I found in this patch was that, at the very least, it wasn’t as cold as it was when I was training last winter for my first marathon.
My eyeballs were sandy.
So I made the executive decision to wear my glasses for the run. Bad move. NC is world-famous for her humidity, and my glasses were fogged beyond belief for most of the run. I actually popped them off, and spent the majority of my run both profoundly blind and in fear that I’d not see a car, or that I’d trip over the sidewalk somehow and break my wrist. Yay catastrophic thinking!
By the time I finished, I was feeling great, but in fear of my life, as I’d just run around Raleigh like that blind chick that’d competed on that one season of America’s Next Top Model. (You know the one, Amanda, from Asheville, with the kid?!)
I made it. The shirt was soaked, I looked like a little shrimp, but I made it.
Gross running stuff.
I drove so I could run safely in the dark this morning. And evidently, I got back into my car and soaked the seats. Because when I got back into the car in regular clothes, my bum was wet. Ugh. YAY RUNNING!
Grossest/most worrisome thing that has happened to you when running?
Seriously. The most chilling word combination I could have ever imagined in my life.
Saturday, I ate an Asian Tuna Salad from a local spot here in Raleigh. So there was some raw fish involved. And when you play with fire (raw fish) for long enough, eventually, your good luck runs out. And mine did on Saturday night.
Saturday around midnight, before I found drunky moneky in the street (see the post), my tummy started aching. Which isn’t totally rare for me, I was a colicky baby, and it never left me. I popped a Gas-X (sorry, TMI, I know), and lay down on the couch. And woke up in agony a few hours later. It wasn’t just gas. And it just got worse and worse and worse, especially after I got back home around 4 am. I played games on my iPhone. I used the facilities. I tried to read (but the room was spinning). And I couldn’t sleep a wink.
The problem with food poisoning, besides the fact that it freaking blows and it’s miserable, is that it dehydrates you, and in my case, rendered me completely unable to safely run my long run on Sunday. Not wanting to completely derail my training, I hydrated all day Sunday, nursed the nausea, and woke up around 5 am on Monday to run long. And despite the itty bitty bit of nausea I still had, it went really well, and took my mind off the profound misery I’d suffered for a few hours.
If you find your self suffering from food poisoning and you’re mid-marathon training,
Take time off. You’re horribly dehydrated and the last thing you want is a fainting spell or a stint in the hospital to completely sideline you.
Hydrate. It’s absolutely disgusting, and you’re probably not in the mood, but you’re pooping and vomiting all your water, electrolytes, and nutrients out. Your body needs those to heal and get back to activity. If you can stomach a few swallows of watered-down Gatorade or Nuun to replace some of those electrolytes, even better.
A friend reminded me of those one. The BRAT diet. Bananas, or broth, rice, apple sauce, and toast. You’re really not going to want much else, but these bland foods will keep your body focused on healing, and not digesting something ridiculous that you’ve chosen to eat.
Keep it bland for a while. Everything. Don’t try any new, interesting workouts. It’s not the time for nachos. Don’t go to hot yoga. Don’t go to crossfit. Keep the workouts simple for the next week or so. Go to bed early.
No beer.
And while you’re sick, wash your hands. On top of the misery you feel, you don’t need more disease from throwing up and the other thing, and not washing your hands.
No more raw fish for me for a while. Woof. Woof. Woof.
Trying to strike the balance between teaching, and still getting those miles in without hurting myself, and still managing to give my students my absolute best. I’ll figure it out, right?
I was cleaning (omg right?!) and I found that dang pink planner under the giant orange duffel I’d packed for camp. Good thing I already purchased a Deluxe Planner for $16.95 and I’d already reworked my marathon training in the Deluxe. So I think I need to do something with that pink planner, like only put bills and dinner or something in it and save the deluxe for everything else. But I digress.
I think I made a boo-boo in my marathon training.
I know. Shocking. I made a mistake?! But I did. Let me explain.
I think I didn’t really get into the thick of marathon training til about 9 weeks out from my last one. I’m not sure why that was, but I think some of it was because, in the back of my mind, I perform a little bit better under pressure.
This time, however, I started training plans like 17 weeks out. Which was a mistake. Because the runs that far out are like “blah blah, run like for a second, you’re DONE!” and because I’ve been doing it for a little longer, that didn’t help me to take it seriously. Tip to self for next time? Don’t start your training program so far out! Cause then, it’s not real. Hey, I’m not a total expert, kay?
So I’m like 10ish weeks out now, and I think all systems are actually go for my October 26th marathon. Here we go!
My pink day planner. The one that I purchased in January that held the key to all my appointments, held all my Zumba classes, and best yet my marathon training, that I’d so meticulously laid out between now and October.
I called Austin in a panic and accused him of stealing it. (Reasonable)
I checked everywhere that I thought it could be. (No dice).
And I’ve determined that my planner, with my marathon training is shoved in the bottom of some box, and I can’t live another second like this – I went to Barnes and Noble and bought another one so I can redo my marathon training and start anew.
Do I go with this sassy gold planner?
Do I go with this like bright pink fuchsia one again?
Do I wait for the other one to pop up? (No)
I settled on the 2014 Deluxe Calendar. If I find the pink planner, we can be friends, and that can be my casual planner (casual list-making, duh), but if you need me, I’ll be making lists and re configuring my life. You know where to find me.
I apologize for the somewhat sporadic posts, but as things go, my life has been turned every which way. While I was at camp, I got word that my first-floor-condo had flooded when the guy on the third floor went to throw in a load of laundry. The water dripped (and dripped is the absolutely wrong word for what it did) down and destroyed the building. Weirdly enough, the belongings were good, but the walls, the floor, the baseboards, everything, just had to be ripped out.
And so there was the mad dash to find a place to live.
And then the mad dash to get everything packed.
And then the mad dash to recruit victims to help move.
And now, I’m here, blogging to you amongst cardboard boxes, trying to eat my breakfast out of a Gladware container because I can’t, for the life of me, remember where I packed the bowls, and even if I did remember, I haven’t put any contact paper down to put them away. Oh well. Can’t be bothered right now.
Anyhoo, so in the midst of all of that, the Greensboro Marathon is still approaching, and I’ll be darned if all of this will affect my training.
But I needed to do my long run (10 miles) yesterday, and I didn’t feel like it. I really didn’t feel like it. And then, like a sign from the heavens, I checked my Instagram. And one after another, pictures like this started to come across.
This is Mama Jo (Joanna). We’ve spent nearly 3 summers together raising our babies, working out, and toting the British counselors (The Brits) along with us on weekly trips to CVS.
CPT, my camp home, hosted their second annual 5k yesterday. It’s kind of, no it is, incredible, because you’re talking about kids that came to camp not having exercised in weeks, months, years, some of them. For them to be over halfway done with camp, and to have run a 5k, is nuts. Absolutely nuts.
So my whining turned to motivation when I saw picture after picture after picture of my girls, my fellow counselors, and the guys finishing their 5k, some of them shaving TONS of time off from their 5k in the previous year. With that in mind, I set out on my 10-miler that wrapped up with me feeling accomplished and like I’d shared with my girls, the 5k experience.
I was awakened by the deafening Marimba tone of my iPhone. It was the AT&T guy, calling to install my wireless and crap, like two hours early. So while I’m up, I might as well do that 5-miler I’d narrowly avoided the night before, right? I mean, the Greensboro Marathon isn’t gonna run itself, amirite, amirite?
So I hit the Greenway, and I felt like garbage. All because someone (I) had had the brilliant idea to eat a plate of nachos when I know good and well my practically-vegan behind couldn’t digest it.
I slogged through the first mile. Slogged through the second and part of the third, and it felt like my legs, infused by all the saturated fats of the queso, just wouldn’t turn over as fast as my mind was telling them. Toward the end, my legs caught up, and I even caught sight of a few coworkers putting in some mileage on the Greenway.
Long story short, I don’t eat nachos (before a run at least) with good reason. With every step I took, I could feel the queso roiling around in my stomach, and I totally regretted my decision as I pounded it out. today is what I would call a bad run. But it’s all good, right? Tomorrow will be a more FloJo type of situation.
Overactive Blogger 