THE GREAT RECOVERY.

Lobster Dog is glad to be back. (Image via http://dogfort.wikidot.com/red-lobster).

WEATHER: Somewhat humid. Which for DC in July, is completely gloriously beautiful, compared to the usual heavy urban fug of unnatural, can’t-fan-yourself-without-dripping-with-sweat humidity plus bus-farts plus garbage truck waftings.

MILES: 17.

MILES THIS WEEK: Enough.

WHERE TO: A little past the C&O Towpath 6-mile marker, then back.

MOOD: Life is beautiful.

TODAY’S RUNNING SONG: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cdrFBwwWJ44

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Guys, it’s taking a lot of ibuprofen, ice, physical therapy, heel lifts, orthotics, yoga, and elbow grease, but we are back in business <pumps fist, does gratuitous pelvic thrust>.

Currently the tentative goal is to do the On the Road for Education (Mason City, IA) marathon in October, assuming my various foot tendons don’t snap/swell to the size of golf balls/punch me in the face. But the REAL goal — dropping the expensive gym membership, throwing a few gels in the sports bra, and occasionally nearly-heaving in the bushes next to the C&O towpath — well, that has been met. And there is much rejoicing.

I will now take questions from the audience.

Q: How well do you expect to do in the Mason City marathon?

A: Very well — top 30 among women, I’m thinking.

Q: That’s ambitious. Are you sure you can do it?

A: Positive.

Q: Wait. Weren’t there only 26 female finishers last year?

A: Shut up.

Q: How are your feet?

A: The tendons are sort of sore, but I did today have my first broken-off toenail incident in years.

Q: How did it feel?

A: Like drinking the blood of a unicorn-magical koala hybrid. Like staring Sauron in the face and then kneeing him in the balls. Like going on a piggyback ride on Sasquatch through the peppermint forest. Like victory.

Also, like knowing I’ll have one hell of an ingrown toenail in a few weeks.

Q: Uh-huh. Are you, as we speak, sitting on your futon and barely breathing as you attempt to slowly lower your heels into the absolute-effing-zero-ice-bucket-of-pain?

A: I prefer to refer to it as the absolute-effing-zero-ice-bucket-of-pain-and-redemption.

Q: Have you written a song about recovery?

A: Yes I have.

<to the tune of “Goodnight Ladies”>

I got my feet back.

I got my feet back.

I got my feet back.

Popping my blisters now.

Q: <wipes tears> That’s very moving.

A: You’re telling me.

It’s good to be back, y’all.

Shutting It Down

NOOOO FEARRRRRRRRRRR! Am I right?

First off, a round of applause for our good friend Showtime, who finished her first 10-K in last Sunday’s Marine Corps 10-K.  It was a pleasure to text her at 6 AM from my start line to hers, telling her the basics of making sure she was prepped for the race (“Don’t forget to poop first.”).

So how did it go for me?

<sigh>

It did not.  Or rather, it went, for about 8.5 miles.

And then the calf balled up into a giant mass of evil nonfunctioning concrete, and the Ace Ventura leg and I hobbled to the med tent.

There was a little bitter weeping as well.

Sweet Merciful Crap.

Running. Ace Ventura. Two closely related concepts.

WEATHER: Snowing.  I shit you not.

MILES: 0.

MILES THIS WEEK: Too few.

WHERE TO: O God.

MOOD: O God O God.

TODAY’S RUNNING SONG: <vomits and dies>

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Where have I been for 2 weeks?  I have been nursing the strangest and scariest injury ever, which I can only call “The Clubfoot.”  The Clubfoot struck one night at a hot and sweaty yoga class.  I was busily leaking all of the moisture from my body, most of it coming out of my facial region, and also (likely due less to my warm, limber muscles, and more to the lubrication provided by having every limb of my body coated in a mixture of sweat and whatever bacteria resided on my rented mat) putting my right knee up over my shoulder, when suddenly…

This Week in Running News, Vol. 4

WHO’S READY?

WEATHER: A bit humid, warm.

MILES: 10.5

MILES THIS WEEK: Lots.

WHERE TO: Your face.

MOOD: Good enough.

TODAY’S RUNNING SONG: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WM1RChZk1EU

So I had said I was going to blog every day, and I have failed in that quest.  Though in my defense, I’ve been busily cross-training in the last few days, and my forearms and wrists have been very tired.  Yoga?  No.  Weight-lifting?  Nope.  Madly bailing out my flooded apartment twice in the same weekend, using many buckets and sopping up the excess with every bath towel I own, then wringing out said towels and repeating this process seven billion times?  Yes!  How did you ever guess?  Combine that with many heated phone conversations with the landlord, and you have quite the workout.  Go ahead — call your landlord and yell, “THIS IS NOT AN ACCEPTABLE LIVING SITUATION!” several dozen times.  You’ll feel great, yes, but spent.

Oy.  So anyway, mileage is ramping up, and we’re still on the training horse.  And since I’m tired and it’s been more than a week, it’s time for yet another installation of:

THIS WEEK IN RUNNING NEWS!

Grandma’s Marathon: The Official Race Review

Pretty pretty racecourse! So pretty!

WEATHER: Humid and hot

MILES: 0.

MILES THIS WEEK: 0.

WHERE TO: My bedroom and downstairs and up again, lugging boxes for the big move-out.

MOOD: Lazy.

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

How did it go?  Phenomenally, that’s how!  C. got a PR, I ran my fastest Grandma’s ever, and much pizza/burrito/beer was consumed afterward. But objectively, how exactly did Saturday stack up?  Oh, honey.  Allow me to give you the scorecard:

Ecstasy

It's yellow, you Reston bastards, so you'll NEVER KNOW.

WEATHER: FAN-FLIPPING-TABULOUS

MILES: Ohhh…ummmmm….FIFTY.

MILES THIS WEEK: BLAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

WHERE TO: Beyond the realm of mere mortals, to the place where only gods dare tread.

(By which I mean Boonesboro, MD, to Williamsport, MD)

MOOD: BLAMMO!

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

As I type this, I am experiencing a level of leg-and-foot discomfort like I have never known before.

And yet.  I feel the need to let you know that…

Oh God oh God oh God oh God. Oh God.

This is how I plan to look tomorrow.

WEATHER: <fidget>

MILES: <twitch>

MILES THIS WEEK: <freakout>

WHERE TO: <vom>

MOOD: Eep.

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

OK, team.  Housekeeping first:

1) We have a Twitter account!  Why, you ask?  Because it’s apparently what you’re supposed to do.  And if every other blog jumped off a cliff, you bet your ass I would.  So there.

2) The About page has also been updated.  Oh, girl.

Now.  Back to the twitching.  Because tomorrow, as you all may know, is THE BIG RACE.  O God.  And do I know what to expect?  No, I do not.  All I know is that I feel nervous, excited, a little fat (don’t judge), and worried that I’ll sleep through the 8 alarms I’m going to set.

THINGS TO DO WHILE YOU’RE RUNNING — Part 3: Think about what to blog about next.

Seriously, kids, I’m failing this week.  Sorry about the lag.  I promise a post tomorrow afternoon. To tide you over, here is a kitten running!

Hugs and sparkles,

DJ

A Brief Hiatus

Hey, sports fans.  Taking a short bit of time off from blogging.  I’m just out of ideas and new things to do.  My bag of neat special tricks is empty.  The spark is gone.  I feel like you and I don’t know each other anymore; we spend all our time either arguing or resenting each other.  And I found your stash of Juggs magazines.  Real mature.

Erm.

Anyway, I”m gonna go run a bajillion more miles.  Be back soon, fresh and ready to go. 🙂

QUADRICEPS AFLAME! Part 5 of 7.

This, too, could be Rod and Jessica. ...OR COULD IT???

WEATHER: Heat index of 110.  Bajillion.

MILES: 23

MILES THIS WEEK: 64 (new record, as far as I know) (for me, not humanity, you see…)!

WHERE TO: Rock Creek Park, Capital Crescent Trail

MOOD: Heat index of 110.  Bajillion. … in my BED!  Awwwwww SHIT!

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

<looks both ways> Is the coast clear?  Are the parents gone?  Good.  Let’s get back to business.

QUADRICEPS AFLAME

Chapter 5: The Harsh Light of Day

The morning light filtering through Rod Deltoid’s sheer curtains gently woke Jessica the next morning.  She rolled over to find Rod resting on his elbow, watching her.  With the firm and glistening contours of his body, he was like a Greek god in repose.

“My dear, how did you sleep?” he asked with a wink.