Ooops...almost

After my 10-miler yesterday morning, I was relaxing in the shower when it occurred to me I may have made a terrible mistake. D's birthday is in early May, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember the date! I just knew his birthday was in early May, and I was fairly certain I had forgotten it! Oh my.

By the time I exited the shower, my heart was heavy. I couldn't believe I could do something so dumb. I knew that if he had forgotten my birthday, I would have been devastated. But I don't know how men tick, exactly, so I quizzed the guy working in my house. And I quizzed my male co-workers. I even quizzed some of my elderly patients. They all made me feel a little better. The consensus was it would be no big deal to a guy. But I still felt bad.

I mean it's bad enough I forgot his birthday, but I didn't even know exactly which date it was that I had forgotten! My co-workers and I, and even many of our patients, had a good laugh over the entire situation! It made for good humor throughout the day in the therapy room.

Nevertheless, after I left work, I called D to apologize. He didn't answer, so I left him a message apologizing profusely for missing his birthday. I was honest. I had no excuses. I told him so, and then I went home and Googled some manly flowers to be delivered the next day, today.

I was looking at various flower bouquets when I heard back from D. It was late last night, so he sent a text. It ended with, "Birthday is tomorrow." In other words, his birthday was today, May 15th! I laughed out loud! After all that worry and fret. After admitting to everyone, including D, that I was kind of an insensitive dope, at least on this day and issue, it was all for naught! I hadn't missed his birthday after all!

My boyfriend, D, received a lovely bouquet of manly flowers, wishing him a happy birthday, at his office today. He was touched by my thoughtfulness. He told me it was a very nice thing to do. Of course, I'm still a bit of an insensitive boob for forgetting his birth date, but I don't think it fazed him a bit. And the resolution of my dilemma made for another lively, laughter-filled day in the therapy department!

Sometimes, it's best just to laugh. When I see D this weekend, I have a feeling more laughter will ensue. And that will be just fine with me. I like to laugh, even if it is at myself.

Weekly re-cap

I've just got a short update tonight. I had a good, busy, and productive week. I worked 5 days this week. In fact, I just put my feet up after working all day today. After work I ran 10 miles and cooked a couple of meals for the upcoming week. I ran long this week, almost 50 miles total, including my 20-miler yesterday. On Monday and Wednesday evening I attended my kettlebell and suspension training classes, which I really enjoyed. I like getting stronger. I spent last night listening to a fellow alcoholic tell her amazing story of recovery. I feel so blessed to have found recovery when I did. I was spared some of the alcoholic destruction others, like the woman I heard last night, had to experience. And in my spare moments this week, I was continually entertained by my puppy, Jet. He makes me laugh out loud many, many times every day. I'm so glad we found each other. That's my week in a nutshell. Have a great week everyone. Take it one day at a time.

Healed?

I've got a few questions for you. I half-jokingly suggested in a previous post that perhaps my 12+ year ordeal with depression had ended. I don't really believe that, but it got me thinking. What would the end of depression look like? What would it mean to be healed? And how would I know it was over?

I've been feeling well for a few months now. I saw my psychiatrist today, and we had little to discuss. That's always nice. Life is moving forward. Work is fulfilling. I have energy to spare. Running is fun and satisfying. I have meaningful and enjoyable relationships with others. I'm connected to my community and to the world. Does a few months of things going so well mean it's over?

I have no idea if it's over, of course, and truthfully, I spend little to no time thinking about it. I live each day as it presents itself. Worrying about the past or fretting about the future are endeavors on which I cannot afford to waste valuable energy. I figure it would take a few years of feeling well before I'd be comfortable claiming I'm cured. But it is an intriguing question, isn't it?

What would it take for you to feel free of your illness? How would you know it was over? What would it mean to be healed? I'd be interested to hear your thoughts.

Beautiful day for a run

Although we ended up with 15.4 inches of snow a couple of days ago, as I look out into my backyard tonight, the grass is green and there is nary a white patch to be found. The snow turned to rain Friday, and it rained all day and into the night. The rain dispersed some of the snow, and the warm, bright sunshine we had today took care of the rest. I even got to run in shorts today!

I ran long yesterday, 15 miles, with my 7 x 800 meter repeats at 7 minute pace, which I never did do on Thursday, in the middle of my run. Combining my long run with speed work was an interesting challenge. I was pretty tired after my run and for the rest of the day. A nice Italian dinner last night with my parents helped perk me up. Good food and good company typically does that.

I slept late today. Wow, that was nice! Jet usually wakes me up just before 6:00 AM, but today he let me sleep until almost eight o'clock! The sun was already high in the sky by the time I made my coffee. I leisurely enjoyed my breakfast in the sun while watching Jet romp around outside. It was lovely.

By the time I hit the road this morning, it was past 10 o'clock. I had a relaxed, easy 7-mile recovery run. I kept a good pace with little effort, and my legs felt fairly fresh. Apparently, last night's Italian dinner helped me recover well from yesterday's effort. It was so great to run in warm sunshine. It was a beautiful day for a great run!

Tomorrow I start my level 2 kettlebell and suspension training class. I'm looking forward to getting back to it. I really sloughed off this past week without it. I know the level one class made me a lot stronger. This eight week class will take me through Grandma's Marathon, and I'm hopeful the added strength will help me run well there.

My mood continues to be good. Sorry, it's probably getting a little boring hearing that week after week, but I'll take boring over depression any day! The sun is setting on a beautiful day. I'm feeling well. Just for today, depression remains far far away.

Best laid plans

Okay, Mother Nature! I totally give up! Uncle! Uncle! What can we do to make it stop? This morning's workout called for seven half mile repeats on a beautiful, spongy, oval track. Afterward, I planned to linger on the luxuriously green infield grass stretching my tired muscles slowly while soaking in the sun. That was the plan. And it was a wonderfully appealing plan! And then I woke up.

 

This is a photo of Jet taken one week ago in my backyard. He was making me laugh, as usual. He discovered this large piece of lumbar under the fence and proceeded, with all his might, to drag it all over the yard.  

He dragged it, attacked it, tossed it, hurdled it, chewed it, barked at it, and generally romped around with it for the better part of an hour. He was in heaven! But then again, he's pretty easy. He finds tiny sticks, flying leaves, unearthed rocks, and even pieces of wayward trash to be heavenly toys as well.

 

The picture above is my little boy racing through our backyard this morning! Now you understand my first paragraph! Unlike his mom, Jet thinks this is just fabulous! He couldn't wait to get outside! He's been out for almost three hours now, and he's barely stopped moving. If he could speak, I'm sure I would hear him screaming, "Wheeeeeeee!"  

 

I wish I could share your enthusiasm, Buddy. But instead of a nice soft track on which to run fast and luxurious green grass on which to stretch, I now face stationary breathlessness on a revolving rubberized belt breathing stale, sweaty, shared air. My favorite.

 

And as you can see in the last photo, the snow is showing no signs of letting up. So what's the deal, Mother Nature? It appears you are currently catering to the canines. That's nice. My little canine certainly entertains me. But will it be our turn soon? I can't wait for my opportunity to squeal, "Wheeeeeeee," too!

Seasonal family reunion

My parents, who go south for the winter, are back in Minnesota for the summer. My mom is in my kitchen right now making one of her specialties, spaghetti, which is fabulous despite the fact we don't have a stitch of Italian in us! I love when she cooks for me. She always makes a ton so I can freeze the leftovers! In fact, I think I still have one container of spaghetti sauce in my freezer from last Fall!

It's nice to see my mom and stepfather again. They leave Minnesota and go south in late October, so it's been awhile. They'll be around here for a few days, or weeks, and then go further north where they will settle for the summer. I'm hoping to head up there to fish with them as often as possible over the next few months. I love fishing.

As for the rest of my life, I don't think there's anything new to report. Despite looking forward to it, I had a tough 20-miler on Saturday. My legs and lungs handled the distance nicely, but I suffered from significant GI distress, which turned my three hour run into a four hour and five minute ordeal. I had to make multiple bathroom stops, which was frustrating, but I was happy with how the rest of my body felt. I've begun taking some probiotics. Hopefully they will help keep the GI distress under control from now on.

Work is going very well. I was just telling my stepfather that I've been honored to work with several WWII veterans recently. Some of them were true war heroes. I'm always thrilled when one of them willingly shares a bit of his story. I've been enjoying working with them.

My mood is still holding steady. I feel good. I've felt so steady, dare I say so normal, for so long now, I sometimes find myself thinking, "Maybe this is it. Maybe it's over. Maybe after 12 years the depression has taken its ball and gone home alone." Maybe. Wouldn't that be amazing? Sure, it would, but I don't spend much time with those thoughts. I smile and let them pass. It is what it is today, and that's all I've got. And all I have to worry about. Now.

Sun and Run!

The sun came out from behind the Winter today. Finally. It's been Winter around here for far too many months now! It's late April, yet it's been cold and gray and snowing. And it's been gray and snowing and cold. And on and on and on... It's been just a bit demoralizing.

Running outside, not once since November without maximum coverage of all four limbs, has been challenging. But here I sit, reclined in my chair, sun shining on my face, fresh air breezing through my open windows, hydrating for my 20-mile run tomorrow morning. I'm actually worried about getting out early so I don't wilt in this new-found heat! I'm even going to get to wear shorts!

I'm actually anxious to do my first 20-miler tomorrow morning. The change in the weather will just make it more relaxing and fun. Since beginning the iron supplementation a few weeks ago, my running has gotten so much easier. I've been able to do speed work, tempo runs, and long runs without muscle cramps or breathlessness. Feeling like I'm putting in a hard but appropriately tiring effort sure makes running more enjoyable.

At this point, you might be thinking, "This chick is strange! How can running a 20-mile training run be enjoyable?" Well, I have several friends and coworkers who would agree with you. Running provides me with so many positives, it's difficult not to enjoy it. Just breathing fresh air and soaking in some sun for three hours is a huge motivator to keep moving forward with a smile on my face. Sure I'll be tired afterward, but the endorphin buzz will keep that from being a lasting memory. Maybe I am strange, but I'm okay with that.

Stronger

My legs were protesting just a bit during my 10-mile run this morning. I'm currently in the middle of my heaviest weeks of marathon training. I'm also in the 8th week of my kettlebell and suspension training class. We are working especially hard in that class. We've learned all the moves, so our instructor has us lifting and moving non-stop for the entire 45 minutes now. I came home last night feeling like a wet noodle. I have my last level one class tomorrow night, and then we have one week off prior to beginning 8 weeks of level two classes.

The heavier training is definitely paying off in more ways than one. When running, I've noticed I can conquer hills with less effort than I required previously. The weight training has apparently helped my shape, or at least D thought so. I received more than one compliment from him when he visited this past weekend. That was nice. The training schedule and classes are tough, but I do appreciate the benefits.

Gaining toughness, whether through lifting weights or by increasing mileage, will improve my running speed and efficiency. This weekend I will run my first of three scheduled 20-milers prior to my marathon. I'm not too worried about it, as the 19-miler, with a 12.4 mile race in the middle of it, went well last Saturday. I do think my legs will continue to be tired, however. That's the way it is at this point in a marathon training cycle. It's the usual fatigue. Getting through it means getting stronger.

Getting stronger. That's what my training is all about. I enjoy the process. The journey to race day is fun for me. I appreciate training's benefits but working hard and accomplishing the smaller daily goals really satisfies me. In this case, I relish the journey at least as much if not more than the destination.

A good day for a run

After the capture of the second Boston Marathon bomber late last night, which was such a relief, the morning here dawned bright and crisp. The sun was high and bright for the first time in at least a week. D and I laced up our shoes for an early morning race. Actually, I laced up my shoes really early and got five miles in before our 20 kilometer (12.4 mile) race. I had a 19-miler scheduled, so I ran a couple miles with Jet, a few more by myself, then D and I ran the race, and then I finished with another couple miles. The picture below was taken just before mile 12 of the race, my 17th mile of the day.

It was a glorious day. All around, runners at the race, myself included, and runners around the city throughout the day, were decked out in Boston Marathon gear. The mood was celebratory at every turn. Just the way it should be, the way it usually is, when one is running or racing. It was so nice. Again, it was a relief.

To be able to share such a wonderful, celebratory day with D was icing on the cake. After the race, we went out for lunch at one of our favorite cafes. A nap, a movie (42--two thumbs up!), and an Italian dinner rounded out our day. Back home now, we are being entertained by Jet's never-ending, comedic antics. It's good to be together laughing and relaxing.

When he leaves tomorrow, it will be too soon. But I'm not complaining. It was a great day to share with someone special. It was a great day for a run, some fun, a little laughter and a bit of love.

Two good legs

I ran 9 miles this morning. I symbolically donned my bright racing flats in honor of all those who participated in Boston yesterday. Running this morning was my way of waving an angry, stoic middle finger in the bomber's face. It felt good. It felt right. I was proud to be one of thousands of good people putting foot to pavement today in honor of the victims in Boston.

Thoughts of Boston, and especially pictures of the victims, continuously streamed through my brain as I ran. One victim in particular stuck out. His name is Jeff Bauman, Jr., and you've likely seen his photo more than once. He is the young man in the wheelchair, holding his left thigh, accompanied by a man in a cowboy hat. Both of Mr. Bauman's legs are missing, traumatically amputated just below his knees. It's a horrific photo, one you'd expect to see from a war zone, not from the sidelines of a marathon.

At last count Boston surgeons have performed 13 amputations as a result of the bombs' piercing trauma. This is what I can't stop thinking about. Mr. Bauman, and as many as one dozen others, will never again be able to do what I did this morning, easily and efficiently run down the street on two intact legs. I can't imagine how I would feel waking up to one, or both, of my legs missing. What would I do if I was one of those innocent people? How would I react? I'm not sure I could handle it. 

My heart aches for these victims. I feel so sad for the lost lives and for the friends and families impacted by this senseless act of violence. I cannot imagine. Lives were instantaneously torn apart and will never be the same again. As I ran this morning, I took stock of my good fortune. I ran with pride. I ran with gratitude. I was outside easily doing something I love to do in a body which is perfectly suited to do it. I'm so lucky.

I send my prayers to Mr. Bauman and all those injured or affected by this cowardly act. I pray that the physical and emotional pain of each victim be relieved. I pray that their prosthetics fit perfectly, and that they quickly learn to stand tall within them. Relearning to walk with prosthetics is not a simple process, but I sincerely hope God smiles down upon them and allows them that freedom as quickly as possible. And if running is in the future plans of any of the amputees, I will be honored to share the road with them.