My second last race of 2011

Okay, so my New Year's Resolution to stop running was dead in the water before 2012 really even started.

But I would do anything for Joe 10k—even if his face wasn't on the shirt this year. HOWEVER, this was the last race I was signed up for, so now I'm not going register for anything before March and I promise to stick to my 6-8week rest policy from here on out.

First, a lesson: Even when you try to be non-judgmental and avoid preconceived notions about people, if you are a girl in running clothes do not walk to a race in the early morning through the projects or you will be catcalled, or in this case, groped. Ew.

Resolving, almost.

Happy belated New Year!

After a happy, busy, dysfunctional, all-too-brief holiday I am back in action. Kind of.

Mid-December I had another MRI on my shin and went back to my sports medicine doctor to learn that my almost-stress fracture has become a mini stress fracture. The prescription was 6-8 weeks of no-impact exercise and rest. AND a home ultrasound bone healing device (which, miracle of miracles, my insurance decided to cover—every medical professional involved was shocked! I figure maybe because it was the holidays and Oxford felt bad for denying me any more physical therapy...but probably not.)

Confessions of a Grimy Runner, Chapter 3

My dailymile Secret Santa gift arrived! 

The message was the best part: "Hope this helps you put off doing laundry by at least one more day." My secret santa knows I'm not even close to godliness.

 

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All I want for Christmas is Endorphins.

Hey there. Remember me? I know, I barely remember me either.

After the marathon I took a month off —my physical therapist suggested 8 weeks, my orthopedic surgeon suggested no time at all, so I split the difference—and OHMYGOODNESS was it a tough month.

I was still going to the gym but this is problematic for two reasons:
1. I never work as hard as when I'm running. Who's that girl slogging on the elliptical or half-hartedly lifting that dumbell? Oh, that would be me. My heart is just not in it like when I'm pounding pavement.
2. My gym is being "refreshed," which is a nice way to say "we are going to do major construction, make things super inconvenient and then jack up your membership fees." Right now the ENTIRE cardio area is gone. No ellipticals, no treadmills and a only smattering of bikes spread throughout the rest of the cramped space. It wont be done until the end of the month...just in time for all the New Years Resolution-makers to have a brand spanking new gym to crowd up.

I'm cranky. Have I mentioned I haven't been running so much lately?

I'm a marathoner, and I'm okay.

I've been remiss in posting the last few weeks. After my 20-miler, my running taper kind of snowballed into a taper in all parts of my life, and at the bottom of the barrel was blogging.

In short, I was not a taper-hater, but really enjoyed putting in fewer miles. Even though it meant, oddly, that my shinjury was hurting more. My health insurance denied me any more physical therapy 3 weeks before the marathon. Granted, it's really hard to prove medical necessity when you are running 20-milers, but it still sucked. I went for a couple of out-of-pocket visits anyway, just for the peace of mind. (And because my PT is the best EVER.)

In the last weeks of my training program I became better friends with a group of girls and despite my complaints about the program, I wouldn't trade that running camaraderie for anything! (Okay, maybe a sub-3:00 marathon...) I also need to give a HUGE shout out to my Outward Bound running teammate and fund-raising partner, Jaimie. She is one the funniest people I've ever met and it has been a pleasure to make a new friend in her. All these gals really made training fun, and it was great to hang out at the events leading up to the marathon. 

Okay, so the marathon. After all the fireworks and pasta parties, the day finally came where I had to wake up and run 26.2 miles. 

Despite what you are about to read, that 20-miler went absurdly well.

"Eat right," they said. "Get plently of sleep," they said. "Don't go out and drink too much," they said.

Soooo I ate like a beast yesterday. Seriously. I ate a child's size bowl of cereal, a muffin and a bagel with olive cream cheese in the span of 5 hours. Then I had what would've been a healthy meal of vegetables and barley were it not for the absurd amount of oil and sour cream that accompanied it. Followed by a cookie. Then I went to a bar with an old coworker.

Confessions of a Grimy Runner, Chapter 2

I don't necessarily hate doing laundry. What I hate is having to do laundry so damn often.

And, unlike certain pairs of jeans, you just can't re-wear running clothes half a dozen times and have it go unnoticed. Running pants are gross, especially in the summer. You sweat, you kick up dirt, you apply BodyGlide which somehow makes every article of clothing it touches immediately smell stale. 

And since almost none of the clothes I run in are supposed to go in the dryer, it means a guaranteed forest in my apartment of damp singlets, socks, capris, tees, tanks, sports bras and runderwear that I have to navigate (sans machete) by ducking under this hanger and skirting around that drying rack. I'm like Indiana Jones in my 'Last Crusade...Before The Next Time I Have To Do The Wash.'