On the Subject of Your Kickin’ Bod…

My waist must be skinnier and my boobs must be pointier! POINTIER, I SAY!

WEATHER: Pretty!

MILES: 0

MILES THIS WEEK: 25ish

WHERE TO: Nowhere.

MOOD: Uneasy.

TODAY’S RUNNING SONG: Bluegrass makes running better.

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

This ultra training thing is all a lot harder than I remember it being last year, and not just because my Achilles tendons have turned against me.  Somewhere in the middle of my second long run of every weekend, I find myself questioning whether this is a hobby I truly enjoy…whether a benevolent and loving God truly exists…what my purpose in life is…all of which comes out in the form of water fountain rage, a phenomenon in which a tour bus full of thirsty tourists pulls up JUST AS I shuffle, dehydrated and nearly defeated, up to the Jefferson Memorial water fountain, and I run at the tourists, limbs flailing, threatening to slime them with my body’s generous coating of salt, sunblock, sweat, and dead gnats.  “JFICIEU$I#(@UDHVJD!” they say, in their foreign languages, which I take to mean, “This woman truly should get to drink for 10 minutes as we watch, disgusted!”  Which usually happens.

The End Is Near(er)

It's coming. Grab some beers and pickles and girly mags and get into the cellar.

WEATHER: Cold and windy and rainy and a little demoralizing.

MILES: 25?  Many of which involved stomach-clutching awfulness.

MILES THIS WEEK: 25?  Many of which involved stomach-clutching awfulness.

WHERE TO: Crescent Trail, Bethesda, Wisc Ave., back to the trailhead, down the Mall, several detours to several (CLOSED!  YOU BASTARDS!) restrooms, home.

MOOD: Foul.

TODAY’S RUNNING SONG: http://youtu.be/YUtHjOvPKT0 (Yes, I hate the video as much as you do, but the song puts me in coke-addled 2-minute-mile territory, I swear.)

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

So I’ve been in a foul mood (and not posting) for a while, largely because of a nasty bout with what I imagine to be tendinitis in my right foot/Achilles tendon.  And as loyal readers know, injuries — even minor ones — turn me into a drooling hellbitch who goes on Netflix-and-enchilada benders.  Granted, I can still run on it, but not without a bit of pain.  Hmph.  Today I found myself actually asking myself:

Whose pants are these in my apartment?

Running and the Economy: Part 2

Let's see...carry the 4...oh holy God. I only have like 2 toenails left.

WEATHER: Cool and autumnal and fantastic.

MILES: 0

MILES THIS WEEK: Enough.

WHERE TO: Nowhere!

MOOD: SO EXCITED!

TODAY’S RUNNING SONG: Today we have TWO, as an all-out tribute to Usher, who is the fuel that gets me through many a run.

News item #1: I AM IN FOR THE BOSTON MARATHON!  Eat it, stupid people for whom the website didn’t crash during registration last year.  EAT IT.  I am going to find you and slap you with a sweaty running singlet.  And you will love it.

News item #2: OK, so are you like me, and have you been running with gels in the sports bra, between the boobs?  And it causes discomfort and paper foil cuts?  And it sucks?  PROBLEM SOLVED: carry them in the side-boobal area.  No kidding.  I discovered this last weekend.  You’re welcome.

So we’re hitting the insane-mileage portion of the ultra training schedule, which means I’m full of aches and pains. Long story short, the more my Achilles tendons feel like snapping, the more I feel like snapping.  (People who deal with me: I am so sorry.)

Seeing me limping around, unable to really bend my ankle joints, a friend of mine whom I shall refer to as Ginger asked me, “Uh, why do you keep running?”  Now, you see, whenever someone asks me something in the “worried voice,” I usually smile perkily and say something to the effect of “Don’t worry!  The moment running starts altering the rest of my life is the moment I stop!  Sunshine daisies glitter hummingbirds bullshit! Kablammo!”

And because I sometimes reach with my analogies, I decided that this was the perfect segue into economics and running.

Emo-Running! The best kind!

Strong displays of emotion make me break out in hives, you know.

WEATHER: A bit humid, but cooler.

MILES: 10?

MILES THIS WEEK: Counting is hard.

WHERE TO: National Cathedral, other places.

MOOD: Overwhelmed.

TODAY’S RUNNING SONG: See below.

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Alright, bitches.  Cue music.

Even when you’re a kickass ultrarunner (if only in your own booze-and-peanut-butter-puffins-addled mind) and superpumped about your Olympic prospects, sometimes you feel like you’re having one of those days.  And then sometimes you feel like you’re having several of “those days” all at once.  And then sometimes you feel like several years’ worth of “those days” have been squished together into a tiny, superdense ball of time, which then ‘SPLODES into a giant supernova and then your life is just this flaming-out celestial event, complete with black holes and wormholes and burning and pain and Stephen Hawking and a landlord who decides to be a real sore asshole to you about the fact that he is clearly morally opposed to following DC building code when renovating your apartment, as is evidenced by the fluctuating water content of your bedroom.

Dreams Can Come True!

Everybody! Kerri wants you to succeed! (Source: http://toptodaynews.com/)

WEATHER: Beautiful.  Warm but not humid, and sunny and beautiful and beautiful.

MILES: 11

MILES THIS WEEK: 41ish.

WHERE TO: All of it.

MOOD: Glowing.

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

For those of you scoring at home (or for those home alone) <rim shot>, I have just over three months to get myself in prime condition to qualify for the Olympic ultramarathon trials.  So it’s time to get crackin’!  I hear that Alberto Salazar trained for a whole 4 months before he ran in the Olympics, so I have some time to make up if I want to achieve my dream. And as it turns out, if you don’t know how to accomplish any particular goal, there is a wealth of information out there telling you exactly how to do anything–anything–you set your mind to.  And so, using one of the shortest checklists that I could find for how to accomplish a goal, I give you:

THE OFFICIAL ACTION PLAN.

Climbing Every Effing Mountain

Here. Eat these and write a blog post.

WEATHER: Cooler but still warm.  90?  Something like that.

MILES: 5.5

MILES THIS WEEK: 30?  Something like that.

WHERE TO: Dupont, Mass Ave, etc.

MOOD: Disconcertingly emotional

TODAY’S RUNNING SONG: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ehu3wy4WkHs&ob=av3e

My dear readers, it strikes me that in order to succeed at anything, be it running or maintaining a blog that has amazingly not yet received any cease-and-desist orders from Nike, the Reston Runners, or any 5K fun runs, and indeed has yet to receive any sexual harassment complaints from (those hot little biscuits down at) Pacers Running Stores…

This Week in (What I Deem to Be) Running News

"The Running Log is finally on Facebook? MY WORK IS COMPLETE! We add no one else!" (photo courtesy of Time.com)

WEATHER: Like running in boiling cream-of-mushroom soup.

MILES: 5.5

MILES THIS WEEK: 28 or so…

WHERE TO: Malcolm X Park, Howard U Reservoir, etc.

MOOD: Meh.

TODAY’S RUNNING SONG: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lLJf9qJHR3E

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Once again, it’s time for your weekly running news briefs (a.k.a. weekly low-effort post). KABLAMMO!

The Official Rundown (complete with death threats and Celine Dion)

You're an inspiration to us all, you beautiful Canadian bastard.

WEATHER: Chilly, windy.

MILES: 0.

MILES THIS WEEK: Erm….13ish.

WHERE TO: Thus far?  Barely a block from home today.

MOOD: Fragile in body, lazy in spirit.  Also kind of itchy.

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Nothing in my body is quite back to any sort of normalcy yet since last weekend.  It took a whole three days before I could stand up or sit down without vocalizing.  My walk was particularly pitiful-looking, so much so that my editor at work told me on Monday that, instead of me going to talk to him in his office when he hollered for me (for my workplace is the apex of professionalism), we could just yell across the hall to each other.

As it stands right now, running again is still tough.  I know, I know; I had planned on a luxurious month or so of doing anything but running post-race.  Biking!  Power-walking!  Jazzercising!  1980s Jane Fonda aerobics videos!  Shakeweights!  Learning to play the theremin!  Calming the house thermostat wars!  Working on my issues with relatively innocuous words like “naughty,” “fungible,” and “hosiery”!

THINGS TO DO WHILE YOU’RE RUNNING: Part 5 — Burn Out

WEATHER: Sort of hot for October

MILES: 0

MILES THIS WEEK: 29

WHERE TO: Nowhere.

MOOD: Filled with the joy and ennui that are the spirit of Columbus Day

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

I know what you’re thinking: I don’t burn out, right?  RIGHT.  I mean, I wake up every morning and leap out of bed, yelling, “PUT ON YER SPORTS BRA AND ASS-KICKIN’ BOOTS!  IT’S GO-TIME!”  Then I put on my spandex bodysuit and a few yards of multicolored tinsel and go leaping around DC until I have my ya-yas out, or until that security patrol guy on the Mall sees me, shakes his head and says, “You again?” and chases me around on his Segway, none of which really makes any sense for him to do, because since when was there a law against LOOKING GREAT, huh, you fascist?

Anyway.

Economic Stimulus!

WEATHER: Fantastic.

MILES: 6.

MILES THIS WEEK: A bajillion, plus 6.

WHERE TO: Catholic University, Howard U. Reservoir.

MOOD: Renewed.

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Well, hi there, everyone.  I’m back from the great blog-vacation, and I have renewed zeal and vigor for informing your beautiful asses about all things running.

During my time off, life continued generally as it usually does (i.e., clumsily aping the motions of a successful journalist), but I did go on a quick vacation up to Cape Ann, Massachusetts, where I saw two wonderful, wonderful friends from college marry each other. I cried like a total weenie, this is true, but I managed to bite off both ends of a Twizzler and use it as a straw through which I drank eight beers and subsequently did the “throwing sparkles dance” AND the “butt dance” for several hours regain my composure in fine style and then hit shamelessly on the wedding officiant tell the bride and groom how much they have meant to my life.

And, of course, I ran.  The mileage has further pushed into uncharted territory. I won’t tell you exactly how many total miles I am now running per week–a figure that actually sort of troubles even me at this point–but it’s smaller than the number of chickens (nesting hens, not roosters) that you can fit in a U-Haul and bigger than a breadbox.

Seriously, the break was a good time to regroup, take a deep breath, brainstorm, and clip my toenails, and let me tell you, I think we’re going to be better than ever here at The Running Log. The operation is growing, and I can feel new opportunities awaiting this enterprise around every corner.  And so it is with great pleasure that I announce:

THE RUNNING LOG IS HIRING!