north carolina

Ya missed me? This post is so jam-packed with goodies, I can’t even stand it!

| cheriarmour

I took a few days off from writing, and it drove me peanuts.   But I logged the events of Thanksgiving break in my head so I could keep everyone filled in on the events, which were events a-plenty.

Wednesday, before the holiday, I skipped the run (I know, shame on me,) because I went in for an endoscopy after work to figure out what was going on with my stomach, which you’ll remember has been acting really nuts since my bout with a stomach bug in September.  It was an upper endoscopy, so as far as prep, it just required that I fasted for a bunch of hours.  Rude.

I went in, stripped down to a sexy gown, and they started me on an IV.  The whole process was fairly non-dramatic.  I was wheeled into a room, laid on my side, given oxygen and the process began.  First the Lidocaine to numb my veins, and then the Propofol, and next thing I knew, I was out.  I woke up a really short time later – apparently, while I was under and they tried to shove the camera down my esophagus, I started flailing, pulled my IV out, and they had to pull me out of my sleep to reset the IV.  It was no big deal, and next thing I knew, I was out, and Austin was ready to take me home.  But not before in a haze, I told the nurse that “I looooove him,” and “did you know we were getting married?”

The final verdict? Gastritis.  The lining of my stomach was inflamed and has kicked acid up into my esophagus, which was burnt up too.  The morning of Greensboro, nerves and something I ate the day before probably aggravated my already-raw stomach, causing me to throw up.  Which burnt my esophagus even more.  Yumz. They did a biospy and I should know what’s causing it and what I need to do in the next 10 days or so.  I’ll keep you posted.

Hospital

Thanksgiving Day.  It was awesome.  I woke up, went for a slow and steady 4 miler (I’m streaking til New Years Day), cleaned up my house, and headed down to my parents’ for the holiday.  I cooked, and it was so lovely to spend the time with my family.  That evening, I was able to trick my brother into watching Pitch Perfect with me.  Score.

BroFriday morning, me and little Derek suited up for a run – and I will be gosh darned – the kid can run!  He’s a cross country star, and 18, so truthfully, the run consisted of me chasing him around Waxhaw, NC, which he regarded more as a casual jog.  My hamstrings were mad at me afterward, and I will definitely have to utilize him more for those speed workouts.

DressWe went wedding dress shopping.  That is all I can say, and this is all I will show you because I’m keeping dress negotiations top secret.  But my mom and I had a blast shopping for dresses.  She did try to negotiate a tiara and a set of silky gloves out of me, but I’m not budging, much to her chagrin.

CarAnd in the single greatest moment of the holiday, possibly of the year, my brother offered to drive us to Harris Teeter to buy my dad seltzer, and we needed to, since I drink up all his seltzer every time I go home.  Anyhoo, my brother drives a Benz.

Fancy?

Well, it’s an ’87, and when he started it, he had to pump the gas like a madman before we could get moving.  Then, when we arrived to the Teet, we had to leave it running while we ran inside.  Hood.

Brosky

And finally, I finished out the weekend by enjoying a dinner where I spent my 16th birthday, Kristopher’s in Matthews, NC, with Austin, the husband-to-be, and Derek, my brother.  It was so fun, so delicious, and an excellent way to wrap up the weekend.

Thanksgiving was awesome.  It was a lovely visit, and I finished out the weekend by running, running a little more, and working at the running store, which always puts a smile on my face.

How was your Thanksgiving Holiday?

That time I tried to go apartment-hunting.

| cheriarmour

I drove past this place today while running an errand for work, and the horrors just came back again and again.

A few years ago, I was super new to Raleigh.  So I set about the task of finding a place here, using the only platform I was familiar with to do so. Craigslist. (Seriously, if you’re moving to a new place, don’t only make sure that you visit the place, but also go off of word of mouth. I cannot stress to you how important this is. Luckily, I always ended up with super cool roommates, and my only rando Craigslist roomie I had turned out awesome, and our time together was only cut short by a tornado.) But I digress, that is another story for another day. Anyhoo, so this place called Westgrove Towers had been advertising a butt-ton on CL, so I’m like “Okay, anything with the world ‘Towers’ in it is fancy, and that’s where I need to live.”

Tower

So, this is the picture they kept advertising with. Idk, the sky is blue in it. It kind of looks like a hotel. How bad could it be right?

I literally walked in to the biggest murder scene of my life, minus the murder.

    • The advert, and the man at the front desk was bragging about how close you were to “shopping”.  By shopping, he meant a run-down K-Mart with a parking lot big enough for you to park your Winnebago in, and the $1.50 movie-theater. Other than that, I’d be forced to cross a 4-lane highway on foot to reach civilization. Listen now, before you get all up in arms, I’m perfectly aware that there are nice K-Marts, and dollar-theaters but this, this was not one of them.
    • The lobby was really dim.  Not in a fun, romantic way.  In a creepy murder way.
    • The room they showed me….

So, for some reason at this point in my life, I’d become enamored of this idea of living in a studio. I felt like it was very hip and cool, and that I would stylishly roll out of bed, my hair perfectly imperfect, a sort of Shakira-Lauryn Hill hybrid, and I’d step into my fringed moccasins, wrap my pashmina around my neck, and glide across the room to pour myself a latte, which I’d obviously brewed in my single-girl espresso machine. Plus I think the studio was all I could afford.

So I remember taking this Alfred Hitchcock elevator upstairs in this “high rise” and we step into the studio apartment. It literally looked like a motel room that you could rent by the hour, if you know what I’m sayin’. The apartment was their showroom, and the bed was saggy, it might have been a pull-out, and the furniture was all made out of that particleboard stuff, all furniture that had probably fallen off the back of a Big Lots truck. I tried to mask my horror as Miguel motioned around the room – it smelled of stale cigarette smoke, and the back lighting made the room look even worse. I forced a smile, as Miguel took me down to the front office, a room lit only with fluorescents, and pitched the “high rise” to me. He complimented my figure, told me I looked like a Zumba teacher (well duh bud), and shook my hand before we parted ways. He even emailed me like a month later to follow up!

I ran, not walked, out of this place, and called my father immediately, almost in tears about what I’d seen. And today, as I drove past Westgrove Tower, I giggled at poor little 21-year-old me, looking for her single-girl studio.

I went to the gastroenterologist.

| cheriarmour

If you’ve been following along carefully, as I’m sure you have, you’ll recall that mid-26.2, I was halted by a sudden urgency to vomit.  And 18 miles into my second marathon, I left my DNA all over someone’s lawn somewhere between Elon and Greensboro North Carolina.

I’d been experiencing some GI discomfort since I got food poisoning in September, and my GP’s explanation just wasn’t cutting it for me.  Plus, anytime I ate anything, or even looked at food the wrong way, I’d wake up in horrid pain.

So, since I had the appointment, I didn’t have work, so I dressed extra cute for the occasion.  I so rarely look good in public due to the fact that I work out, so when I do dress like a regular human being, I really take it up a notch.  Even put on the Spanx under.   I felt so cute, in fact, that I took the requisite bathroom selfie for my viewing pleasure later on.

knit
Look at the sheer volume of running shoe that is behind my head…

“Work, honey!” I said to myself.

And off to the stomach Dr. I went.

Dr. H: Tell me what’s going on!

Me:  [I describe my symptoms to him] Sir, I also threw up in the middle of a marathon.

Dr. H: A marathon?! What is that, like twenty…whatever.  That’s extreme.

Me:  Well, bye, I never usually throw up when I run so…

Dr. H:  [points at the remnants of my green breakfast smoothie] What is that?  Does that bother your stomach? I bet! [I start to kind of wiggle from buttcheek to cheek here]. Do you drink alcohol?  [I wince right over here].  How about gum…do you chew gum? [I start to fidget in my seat, and bounce my ballet-flatted foot around]. How about coffee.  You drink coffee?

Then, being the brilliant, educated young woman I am, I have to explain to Dr. H that I wore Spanx to a gastroenterology appointment, and that he’ll have to excuse me while I wrangle my body out of the giant compression sock I sewed myself into that morning in order for him to you know, examine me.  I thought we were just gonna chat!  He looked really confused.  I’m sorry, dude.  I wasn’t thinking.

His verdict?

It’s acid-related (duh), either an ulcer, or some lovely hydrocholoric acid splashing to and fro in my stomach.  So the grand list of things I’m no longer allowed to do.

  • No ibuprofen.  I told you I just finished my 2nd marathon, right?
  • No gum. ::blank stare::
  • No more smoking cigarettes.  Okay, doc, gotcha covered. No prob.  That’s the one thing I know I don’t do.
  • Citrus is bad.  So that smoothie I drink every morning?  With pulpy delicious OJ as the base?  Apparently was just tearing my stomach to shreds.
  • No coffee/caffeine.  Is this a joke?  This is a joke, right?
  • No kombucha. My will to live is dwindling.
  • No mint and chocolate.  The only candy I eat is York Peppermint Patties.
  • No Italian, tomato-y food.  
  • No alcohol.  Is beer included in that?

And the kicker?  I have to get scoped the day before Thanksgiving, to see how bad my stomach lining is.  But on the plus side, it’s a pretty simple procedure, and they’ll IV me up with the same stuff that Michael Jackson used to use to get to sleep.  Lucky for me, Dr. Conrad Murray doesn’t have his medical license, so I think I should be decent on, you know, living and stuff.

Alright guys, I’ve already done really awesome, I’m chewing a piece of Eclipse as I write this, and I just slammed a glass of ice water with lemon as a garnish.  Jesus take the wheel.

Time to have some fun! #runchat

| cheriarmour

In the comments below, on Facebook, or on Twitter answer me this.

What should I think about on tomorrows long beautiful run? I’ll do my best do think about it and address it in a little post next week.  

The first order of thinking business will be about food.  That’s all I’ve got so far. 

Weather Obsession

| cheriarmour

Marathons are very much like weddings in that you do this…thing.

You check the weather incessantly, smiling when it looks good (about 10 days out), and progressively getting more anxious as you realize that things aren’t going to go the way you planned. That’s so life right?

You have to understand where I’m coming from here though. There was a point during training where I was running, in the mountains of Pennsylvania on a 94-degree day with like 77% humidity. I never dried off that day, btws. Never for a second did I think that I’d be crossing the start line in Greensboro with a starting temp of 32 degrees.

Weather

Of course, there are a few conflicting reports on what temp we’re starting in, but the truth is, it’s gonna be effing cold.

No matter, it’s off to the running store I go tonight. Objective? A better pair of gloves that actually fit my limbs, and those little hot hands thingies to stick in my gloves while we’re just chilling and waiting around for the gun to go off. And it’s time (now two days away) to plan a good outfit.

Here goes Buzzfeed, singing my life.

| cheriarmour

4 days away from the Greensboro Marathon, and I’m a little alarmed that I’m not freaking out or having a psychotic break. All I can think about is eating a biscuit from Biscuitville with an egg on it. 26.2 miles, and all I can think about is the fat I can consume immediately following. Oh well, have me arrested if you don’t like it.

This video though.  The one I related to the best was the isolation, which I distinctly felt at like miles 17-19 of my first marathon.  Justin Timberlake Pandora was playing, and I remember wondering where everyone was.

What I didn’t relate to, however, was the wall, and knock on wood for my amazing co-workers who guided me through the nutrition needed to prevent that exhausted feeling, I hope I don’t hit it this time.  4 days!  Eep!

I ran this morning.

| cheriarmour

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?!)

shrimp

 

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?

My week in pitchurs (that’s how it sounds when people down here say it!)

| cheriarmour

This week, my first week back at home in Raleigh, has been a whirlwind of working, teaching Zumba classes, adding new songs to my lineup, job things, and trying to reset my life here in Raleigh. Honestly, it was hard to leave my mom last Saturday morning, and I wish I didn’t have to. But she’s improving, and I can’t hang around my parents’ house forever, right?  So my week in a few pitchurs.

Marathon 1

The Greensboro Marathon.  Oh guess who’s doing their second marathon in October?  If you guessed Sydney Poitier, you guessed wrong.  ME!  I am doing the Greensboro Marathon October 26th, after I searched both high and low for a race I could do (within financial reason) this fall!  The race starts in Elon (which obviously, I’m obsessed with because I went there, duh,), and ends in downtown Greensboro.  I’m hoping for a little bit prettier weather than the marathon I did last spring, and I’m better prepped for how boring life will get around mile 17.  I can do this!  Hang in there for marathon posts, I’m sure there will be a TON.

Marathon 3Zucchini Fire.  It’s zucchini season in good ol’ NC, and I’ve come into possession of several humongous zucchini weanies. I had to find a way to cook them. And what other way than grating them into some zucchini bread? Well, me being the domestic goddess that I am, I overfilled my bread pans, and they leaked into the oven, where they started a fire in my kitchen. Not kidding. I was literally using my lungs to put it out in a desperate effort to save my bread. The bread was saved, and I only had to spend like 89 hours scrubbing the oven out with a piece of steel wool. #Winning.

Marathon 2

Headstand victory.  My yoga teacher, the young little Emily Wallace down at Indigo Hot Yoga, let us play around with a few headstands today, and instructed us, step-by-step, on how to get up into one.  I got up, and was able to stay up for a few seconds.  Do I need more work? Yes.  Do I need to get a little more consistent in my practice to continue to see progress, and to continue being a Bendy Wendy, even when I train for this marathon?  Absolutely.  But it felt good, and it took my mind off of serious stuff to be able to work out my core and stay up in a headstand for a while.

Can we say “whew”?  What a friggin week!

Disgusting things that happen to you when you run.

| cheriarmour

Still at my parents’.  And being home has afforded me the opportunity to take care of my mom, but also to work out a ton, and run a lot.  Like.  To the point where I have become so sexy, that my Raleigh friends are gonna be all “Whaaaaa” when I roll up in my Lancer. 

So I’m running yesterday.  And I really’d hit my groove.  Cruising down this hilly country road.  About  a mile-and-a-half from home.  And it hits me.  

Evidently, there’s a some sort of *ahem* poo treatment plant hidden behind the hills of gorgeous Weddington.  It’s pretty steamy out here, and I guess it, like, cooked the smell.  Because midway through my run, I literally doubled over, and had to feebly cover my nose with a finger as the smell of steamed poop assaulted me.  So much for the thrilling, reflective, country run I was going to blog about.  

Then I go to wash all my stanky clothes I’ve built up from the last week.  Pull them out after they were washed.  Did the sniff test.  And they still stank.  Pretty girls don’t smell too pretty, right Tyra?  (10 points for anyone who can name the Top Model candidate who said that).  And I left my Sport Wash back in Raleigh, so I had to fashion some out of white vinegar, and Wisk.  Ugh.  Good luck to me.  Running is not for the faint of heart.