Doing it all again

Seriously, more than four years since I blogged?

Here's what's happened:

-- Kids have grown big! They're 9 and 12! I probably can't blog about them and live!
-- Got divorced. Not going to talk about that here, but suffice to say it's all good.
-- Got a pretty awesome boyfriend.
-- Moved close to work, close to kids' schools.
-- Gained...20 pounds? Um, oops.

So it's that last thing that merits some blogging. Mostly I'm thinking about this because for the last few years, as I've gained weight, I've always thought, "Well, I could just work out harder tomorrow, and it will be fine."

But a week and a half ago, I was playing football (oh! yeah! I play football! The American kind! It's the most fun ever!) and I was running full-speed toward the person with the ball - I was on defense - and my teammate and I collided and something terrible happened to my knee.

I don't really remember, since I was rolling around on the ground in pain and had to be carried off the field. And the thing I couldn't get out of my head was, "How can I possibly work out like this? I'm going to gain a million pounds!"

It's been 10 days, and it's getting MUCH better. I'm off crutches and can walk reasonably. The doctor said I need to wear a brace on my leg for four weeks, then we'll reassess and figure out what to do next (it's my MCL).

What I think: It feels okay. Not awesome, not perfect, but okay. I think I'm going to heal quickly.

But the injury finally pushed me to start meal tracking properly. I know the best way to affect my body and weight is by my eating habits - not my exercise - so all I have to do is meal track and eat properly and I'll be fine.

Well, easier said than done. Blogging might help. We'll see. Either way: I'm fatter than I've been in forever. It's not getting better. I'm still athletic and stuff, but it's not the same as it was before - it makes me miserable to see myself in the mirror, just like I felt when I first realized I needed to lose the weight.

So it's time.

There are lots of blogs about losing weight, and they're awesome! I love reading them! But here's one that's about losing weight, then silence as I regain the weight, and here's a commitment to losing it again.

I'm nearly 40! If not today, when?

Fabulous run!

On Sunday, I ran about 10 miles with a couple of friends. They are running the Seattle half marathon for the first time in two weeks; I've done it a bunch, so I offered to show them the route.

It was so wonderful. From the minute we started, I felt strong, confident, light - everything a distance runner should feel. Even by the time we finished, despite not running more than six miles since the marathon, I felt awesome. I could have run more.

It's a testimony to the weight loss. It's way more important to my endurance than long runs, I think. Not that I'd skip the long runs during marathon training - but I do think it speaks to how right I am to work on weight loss before endurance training again.

Then yesterday I did six something on the treadmill with the "deck of cards" run - so fun, so hard, and I felt so great when it was over.

Yay running!

28:03

I've been thinking about this for a few weeks now, and this morning decided it's time.

I'm never going to be a fast runner if I don't start running fast. Again.

So from now one, once a week or so, I'm going to run the 5K profile on the treadmill. Every week, I have to run it faster than the week before.

This will be impossible if I'm heavier than I am right now, by the way (weight's back down after my bingey weekend, thank goodness).

Today, though, was the baseline. I deliberately didn't want to push too hard and make it harder for me in subsequent weeks. Plus, I coerced my workout partner to do it too, and she doesn't run very much yet, so I knew I'd be on the treadmill for 45 minutes or so anyway.

So, 28:03. Not horrible for a hilly profile where I didn't bother to run very fast until the last kilometer.

Next week, though...drop a minute? We'll see.

(And just so we don't forget, my non-runner friend who I'm training to be a runner did 46:09.)

Sugar = depression

So this weekend was a little nutty.

First, for some reason I decided to eat popcorn Friday night. Calorie-wise, I ended up okay for the day - but I still wasn't awesome.

Then Saturday started out well, but we had a potluck Saturday night and I was drinking and friends brought over stuff like homemade macaroni and cheese, some crazy gourmet mushroom-on-bread appetizer and Mexican casserole...and combine that yummy stuff with alcohol and I pretty much ate what I wanted to instead of on plan.

So Sunday, of course, I wasn't feeling awesome as a result of the vodka and soda I'd been consuming...and food, especially carbs, did make me feel better. So, I ate really poorly compared to lately, and by Sunday night had a stomachache and, although my hangover was gone, I felt horrible because of what I'd eaten.

I started down these stupid lines of thinking: maybe I'll fast tomorrow. Maybe I'll force myself to vomit right now. Maybe I'll get my ass out of bed and start exercising RIGHT NOW, even though I'm tired and cuddling with my daughter and should be sleeping.

Finally, I forced myself to stop thinking about stupid things and resolve to go back to the right diet tomorrow (meaning, today). I fell asleep...and had terrible dreams, like that my laptop was stolen, I was lost, I didn't have all this information I needed, etc.

And then I couldn't get out of bed the first time my alarm went off...or the second...or until we had barely enough time to get the kids ready for school. It was just like last winter/spring, when I was actually depressed and couldn't get out of bed until the very last minute before I had an obligation.

I remembered why I felt so awful - the eating, the alcohol - and got my behind out of bed. I got the kids ready and drove to work.

Today is a gorgeous, warm day. I'm wearing a shirt that didn't fit five weeks ago, and I weighed myself and my morning weight was only a pound higher than it would have been had I not had all the sugar yesterday (I know it's not real weight, but water retention as a result of the sugar).

I ate turkey bacon for breakfast and brought a salad with chicken breast to work today. I know how to go back on track.

And I'm amazed at how just one crappy weekend can throw everything into a tailspin - temporarily, at least, until I catch myself and put myself back on the right path.

No more sugar. It is evil!

Notes from the last few weeks

I've been meaning to blog; every day I practically write an entry in my head while I'm working out. But then I get to work, get busy, and don't get to writing.

Today, though, I'm not so busy, so it's time to write down some of the thoughts I've had over the last couple of weeks.

First, I haven't backslid into poor eating habits. In fact, I'm on the third week of a "Stage 2" diet of the 20/20 program - basically eating protein, vegetables, and berries. I have made an exception for pineapple and apples, though, when I get sick of strawberries.

I have had two days where I exceeded 1200 calories - but I still meal-tracked every bite and sip, and haven't had a single day where my calorie expenditure didn't exceed what I took in.

I'm down about 13 pounds. My fat pants are too big, all of my clothing fits and looks normal, and I'm feeling amazing.

When I run, nothing jiggles. I remember writing at some point last winter about needing a "butt bra" - not anymore.

My legs and arms have defined muscles in them, thanks to my consistent three-day-a-week weight lifting routine.

I ran three days this week - six miles each time. Somehow the ends of my runs - the last couple of miles - ended up faster than the beginnings. Yesterday, the last 1.1 miles was uphill. Before I realized it, I was ahead of the other girls - and they never caught back up. I think I ran that mile faster than any other - and when I was done, I wanted to go further. I finally don't feel like an imposter running.

I know that might sound ridiculous - I just ran an entire marathon a month ago - but that's how I felt. Like I was faking it, not like I was really a runner. Now that I'm back to normal, I remember how easy running used to be. It feels awesome!

I'm a little sick of my food choices, but it was easy to forgo Halloween candy. It's harder to not binge on things like nuts - and last night I had a little breakdown and ate a mix of banana chips, dried cranberries, and cashews. By my calculation, it was 350 unnecessary calories (even after I'd brushed my teeth for the night!) - and I'd love to punish myself for doing it, but I am trying to not develop the "buy food with exercise" habit right now, so I'm just meal-tracking it and moving on.

I will not be setting a new exercise goal until I am at my goal weight...which I hope to be at by Christmas. Six pounds more. I know I can do it...slowly and safely.

Off sugar!

So the diet is getting easier (especially now that I'm letting myself have some vegetables). I haven't gone over 1200 calories in a day - even if I go out on the weekend and drink alcohol (vodka and soda is my poison of choice right now).

And it's totally working - I fit into my clothes again, I'm sleeping better, waking up more easily, and most of all, just way happier!

Like, I go to work and can totally tolerate people I normally can't stand. And annoying things happen and I take them in stride.

I attribute this change in attitude to being off sugar. My head just feels more clear.

So, it's all worth it!

Full, but not satisfied

Well, the diet is going really well. I have managed to consume fewer than 1,200 calories each day, and I eat every time I feel hungry.

But, tonight is tough. Friends are over, one of whom makes amazing fajitas and rice and beans and homemade salsa - and I'm eating the fajita meat (flank steak) and...nothing else. Well, shrimp cocktail, too. So, shrimp and steak. And the fact is, I'm no longer hungry. My belly is full. But how I would love to have some chips and salsa right now.

But I'm down eight pounds since Monday. People are noticing already. So this is going to be worth it.

In other news, on Thursday I ran by myself for the first time in forever, and on Friday I did cardio and weight lifting alone. I haven't been able to motivate myself to do these things without friends in a year; it felt good to get through it alone (but I'd still prefer to do it with friends).

Day 3 of 20/20, take two

I said on Saturday, before the marathon, that Monday morning I start back on a 20/20 diet.

I meant it, too! I allowed myself to not work out Monday and just recover from the race - my legs and back were sore, but mostly fine if I didn't sit still for too long.

But I did go straight to the Pro Club Monday morning and bought a case of ready-to-drink shakes and a couple of hard-boiled eggs, and started the new diet.

It works something like this, for me:

• 3 nasty shakes a day
• Nuts (1 teaspoon at a time)
• Strawberries (1 cup at a time)
• Protein (eggs, turkey, chicken, ham, shrimp...pretty much plain, maybe a tiny bit of mustard with it)

So, yeah, gross and boring. The shakes pretty much make me gag, and I pity the food that has to enter my stomach after it and share space with the nasty stuff.

But the amazing thing is, it works. I'm not hungry. I eat five or six times a day, little bits at a time, and reward myself with real food for downing the shake.

And my mood is improved and already I feel better about myself.

I saw the pictures Danielle's boyfriend took of us while we were running; they reminded me way too much of my fat pictures from "before."

I don't want to be a "before" ever again - and finally, I'm properly motivated to get back to where I belong. 135 pounds or less and a much faster runner.

I'll do this diet for a week, maybe two, and then I'll add vegetables back in. I don't think I'm going to add dairy for a while, and definitely not grains, beans, or other crazy carbs. I just want to focus on weight loss.

It's a slippery slope; now that I'm dieting again, I remember how easy it was to feel full on 1200 calories a day when I eat the right 1200, and how it took a few years before I had slipped back into poor eating habits (but never as poor as before!).

Now that I've had the slide, I think I know better how to prevent it. So we'll see what happens this time.

Portland Marathon race report

So, I did it. It wasn't even that bad, despite the unpromised rain!

I went to bed early and slept until 2 a.m. pretty well, but from 2 to 5 I tossed and turned and had nightmares about being late. Finally I got up and started getting ready.

Usually on race mornings I take a shower to wake myself up, but since my hair is such a pain in the behind right now (it gets wet and bleeds pink), I decided to forgo the shower and just clean up and get dressed. The hotel was serving breakfast downstairs, and happily they had perfect runner food: for me, a cup of coffee, a bagel and cream cheese, and a banana with peanut butter.

I could only choke down half the bagel, but it was fine. I finished getting ready upstairs, then headed out to Aleks' hotel to meet her, Danielle, and Heather.

Danielle, Heather and I were all wearing pink skirts and tops and pink cowboy hats. We were a sight.

We headed down to the race start with just enough time to say goodbye to Aleks, who needed to line up ahead of us, and find a place close to the pace we planned to run. Right when we got close to the starting line, a woman behind me totally stepped on my shoe and pulled it completely off!
Fortunately, it was easy enough to get back on, but that was a freaky moment - all these bodies moving forward and my shoe isn't on my foot!

We started out running a comfortable pace, and pretty much never left it. I knew from the first mile marker we were running between 11 and 12 minute miles and we were a little more than 10 minutes back from gun time.

Between mile 4 and 5, both Danielle and Heather had to go to the bathroom, but there was a pretty significant line. I turned my watch off so I would capture only our run time, but at the next mile marker I figured out that we lost about five minues waiting. I decided then that if I were to really enjoy this race, I needed to stop playing with math and figuring out pace and projected finish time and all that. It's not like I was going to be fast no matter what; why would I torture myself with something totally irrelevant?

So I put my HRM on heart rate/time in zone only, so I didn't know what time it was or how long we'd been running. They still announced the time at every mile marker, but I stopped working so hard to do the math and figure out where we were.

By mile six, I felt like being done running...but weirdly, from mile 8 to 18 time just flew. Seriously, suddenly we'd see the balloons for the next mile marker and I'd be like, wow, we just past the previous one a minute ago!

This was probably for a few reasons. When we stopped for five minutes, we ended up behind a lot of slower runners; so for much of the rest of the race, we were passing people. So we always had someone new to look at.

Another reason is just Danielle. She was singing, yelling, being crazy, and just thoroughly enjoying herself. I tend to get quiet and inward when I race; she becomes super-fun and her energy is just infectious. It's amazing.

It started to rain maybe around mile 7 or so, which was unexpected. But it was a light rain, and it felt refreshing. It rained until past mile 20 - almost to the end, but not quite.

The one major hill was completely no big deal. You go up before going over the St. John's Bridge, but we just powered up and it was over way before I expected it to be. The bridge itself was gorgeous and reminded both me and Danielle of the bridges of the NYC Marathon.

Plus, we knew that after the bridge, the course was largely downhill. Heather's boyfriend Ben met us on the other side of the bridge to run the last eight with us, and at one point he ran to a friend's house to get a beer. The four of us took turns taking swigs until it was gone; I used it to wash down a GU. Way better than water!

We realized around mile 23 that not only were we likely going to break five hours from our start time, we could also break five hours gun time, if we hustled. We picked up the pace pretty significantly from there, with cheerleader Danielle egging us on. But man, at this point, it hurt. I'm sure we weren't running that fast, but my heart rate was 10 bpm higher than it had been all race, and I was nervous that I'd burn out before the end.

When we hit the chute, Danielle wanted to run hard. She grabbed our hands and basically pulled me across the finish line. I barely remember this part - I was totally in a daze. When we stopped running, I felt completely out of it - people were coming towards me with space blankets and medals and I was confused. They kept putting things in my hands, like water and chocolate milk. I was worried someone would try to take me to a medical tent.

But within a few minutes, my head cleared and my heart rate dropped, and all I wanted was to see the family. I couldn't eat or drink; nothing sounded good. I picked up my finisher's shirt and called John to see where he was.

Well, he and the kids hadn't bothered to come out and see me race, at all. I was so hurt. I said goodbye to the girls and walked alone back to the hotel.

When I got there, I burst into tears. I just couldn't believe John would think that I wanted him to come all the way down to Portland and that I'd think it was okay for him and the kids to just wait for me in the hotel and not see me at least finish. I know it was raining, so I didn't expect them to be all along the course, but you'd think they could show up towards the end and just see me go by. It hurt that John actually thought I would want the kids to stay in because of rain.

I'm like, no way! We live in the rain capital of the world. I've always lived here with the belief that if you were going to do something, and it rains, you still do it - otherwise you'll never do anything all winter! So of course I wanted him and the kids out!

So, anyway, we got over that. I guess.

In re-reading this, there's one thing I failed to mention. The cowboy hats and pink outfits got us a ton of attention - duh. But the nice thing about it was that it seemed to make other people - like onlookers - happy. They cheered for us and yelled out to us, and it gave us a boost every time (in fact, it made Heather and Danielle run faster!). I think there's something good to not being anonymous in a race - it makes you keep moving, and it makes things just a little more fun.

And the cowboy hat, after the first couple of miles, wasn't even annoying. I don't like running in hats usually, but once I got used to it, it was fine. I'll post pictures when I get them.

So, our final time was 4:49:41 - not my slowest marathon, but the slowest (outside of Ironman) in which the pace was totally within my control (meaning, I was the slowest of a group that was staying together). And interestingly, Danielle and Heather hadn't trained at all for this race. But since they're both personal trainers and extremely fit, they had no problem getting through it.

Now I'm focusing on weight loss. I've been heavier than I want to be for more than a year, and I'm ready to commit to fixing it now. This week I'm back to shakes and protein - the week 1 of the 20/20 program - and perhaps I'll do this for a few weeks to kick-start some weight loss and start feeling better about myself. We'll see.

I don't feel bad about this race; seeing all the people out there of all shapes and sizes running faster and slower than me made me remember how amazing it is to run a marathon at all, whether it's in four hours or five. But I just know I can be better than I am right now, and I won't be satisfied with myself until I am.

Marathon eve

The last three weeks, as I've allegedly taped for this race, have been crazy busy at work and in my personal life, with school starting and routines changing and all that.

I'm reflecting, though, on this training period and whether I accomplished what I set out to do - regardless of the race's outcome tomorrow.

I wanted to put back some discipline and balance in my life. I think instead I learned just how far I could push things without going over the edge.

Sure, I had some successful long runs; but I weigh more now than I have since I became athletic, and I certainly did not regain all of my "speed" (I was never fast, but I'm less so now) during this training. In fact, I think I slacked off about as much as I completed what I planned to do.

So I know the taper period is supposed to make you feel restless - wanting to go, go, go right now! Not wait until race day! - and at the same time rested. I feel rested, sure...but not excited.

In other seasons, I arrived here feeling nervous and ready: today, I honestly feel a little embarrassed. I didn't train like I should. Yeah, I'm going to go out and jog a marathon. I'm trying to tell myself it's enough to dress up and wear a silly hat and go play in the streets of Portland and run a five-hour marathon, but it's not. No matter what, I'm not going to feel good about tomorrow.

So I'm going to go out there and put on a smile and try to have fun. I might even have fun for a while. But in the end, I know I'd feel better about a performance so strong I don't have the energy left to smile than one where I'm skipping and running into the crowds and goofing around. I know that I'm going to wish my name weren't right there in the results with some really long time next to it, and know that I could have done better, but chose not to.

I am trying to remind myself of the girl who never thought she could run a 5K, let alone a marathon. She's going to complete another marathon tomorrow, and that's cool and inspirational no matter what the time.

I guess I'm just so competitive with myself - and to know that I got here without doing the most I could to prepare bothers me. Even though I wasn't fast on Ironman Canada, I did every hour I planned to for my training. I'm sure for this marathon I've done a third of what I said I would do.

Anyway, I'm writing this all out to expunge it from my head, and it's leaving me as I type. Tomorrow is going to be fun, and I am going to be proud of being able to have that fun. So there, little voice in the back of my head that tells me constantly how not good enough I am!

I'll have some humble pie with that...

You know, I'm going to have to go back and look at old training schedules, but I'm pretty sure that none of them included an 18-mile run during the "taper" period.

So last week, we ran 22 miles. It felt great. In fact, for weeks all of my long runs have felt great. So knowing that 22 was the longest put me in this mindset of, "It's all done! Easy from here on out until the race!"

But, honestly, I think in other seasons, my longest run was 3 weeks out from the race - not four. So for this training season, it totally made sense to run one more long one - 18 miles.

Except for the simple fact of thinking I was in a taper meant I treated this long run a lot less seriously - to my detriment.

The last time I did 18 miles, I did go out Friday night (and big, too - Saturday was total recovery from Friday that weekend), but that Saturday during the day I hydrated well, ate properly and went to bed at 8:30 p.m.

This time? Um...well, I had plans to go out last night, and I made the brilliant decision to put my curfew at 3 a.m. - then I decided 3 a.m. was the "start to head home" time, not the "be asleep in bed" time.

In my defense, the run wasn't until 9 a.m. - but I had to bring the kids to their grandma's house for babysitting, so I had to wake up by 7:30 anyway.

I actually woke up at 7:15, before my alarm went off. I felt pretty much okay. Got a bagel and some coffee down, took the kids out to grandma's, came home and finished getting ready. Aleks was on time, as always, and we headed out at 8:59 a.m.

The first five miles was good - even fast. The next three miles were okay. And the next two - now we're five miles away from Nancy's car, who met us at mile 5 - were bordering on torture.

My left knee was doing that thing where it feels like the leg from the knee down had turned around in the knee socket. Because of the knee pain, I was running funny and making my calf tight and sore.

And then I got weird side stitches and pains very low in my belly. So I decided at mile 10 to walk a while.

I told Nancy and Aleks to go on ahead to 6.5 miles before turning around; I thought at worst, I'd walk the five miles back in the time they took to run what they had left (8 miles), and we'd finish together.

And walk I did. Not the entire time - I did go one full mile, just to see how long it took me to walk a mile (14:30, if you're wondering), but the rest of the miles I walked until I felt like running, and then ran until I felt like walking. I timed two of these: one was 11:30, and another was 12:30. I actually found this slightly annoying: If I'm running 10s to 11s, shouldn't my run-walk miles be way slower? Doesn't seem like running is all that efficient for me!

So, I got back to the car, and Nancy and Aleks were not yet in sight, so I ran-walked another mile to get 16 or so, then saw them. I didn't get 18 in, but I am not really beating myself up over it: it's a good lesson for me. How arrogant am I, to think I can party until 3 a.m., sleep a few hours, then go run 18 miles?

I feel good about recognizing my arrogance. It's good to learn from your mistakes, right - and now I see very clearly that I wasn't respecting my run, my running partners, or my body by trying to prove I could do it all.

16 is still nothing to be ashamed of, of course. Next weekend when we run 15 miles, I'll remember what happened today - and not let it happen again.

I was certain I could do it...

But I was totally and completely wrong.

So Gabriel has been practicing a rock beat. It's like this:

On the hi-hat, with the foot pedal depressed, 8 beats to the ? measure? I don't even know. But it's 8.

On the bass drum, with the other foot, 4 beats to the measure.

On the snare drum, hit on the 2 and 4 for the bass drum.

So two hands and one foot are moving at different rates, but all together.

I know what this sounds like. I know what this looks like.

But when I sat down to try it...NO GO.

It was SO HARD. I know I'm old and the kid is young, but still.

It was impossible!

I mean, for me. Gabriel continues to make it look easy.

Spent $1,000 on a drum kit for him today. Obviously it's pretty nice for an eight-year-old.

Thank good ol' uncle Bill for a bonus, I guess!

Pics later...the card I'm using in my camera doesn't want to be read by my laptop, and I'm too lazy to go find a computer that will read it.

Oh, and in other, but related news: If you ever want to see a kid motivated to clean a stinky garage, promise a drum kit, complete with a little rug to put it on. Gabriel has never been so helpful before, and my garage has never been so clean. :-)

Gabriel goes to the School of Rock Music

Okay so I know I'm a proud mommy. But oh my goodness, yesterday I could not wipe the silly smile off my face for Gabriel's entire first lesson at the Seattle School of Rock Music.

Seriously. Gabriel's been taking guitar lessons, but he really wants to be a drummer. And he's got some natural talent. So, despite the fact that the school is like 30 miles from home, and lessons and rehearsals are twice a week, and gas costs a million dollars for my beloved but gas-guzzling car, I signed him up. Oh and I didn't even mention the monthly fee, the noise associated with having a child practice drums in the house, and the expense of a real drum kit.

But he did promise to give me $10 million from his first billion, so that's pretty generous for the woman who spent 19 hours in labor with him, right?

So, really, the kid is coordinated and has rhythm. By the end of his first lesson, he had his foot and each hand going at a different rate (I don't know anything about music, can you tell?) and it sounded great. His instructor was even smiling when Gabriel couldn't see him.

Here comes my next role: stage mommy. Gotta love it.

A silent house

I've been so behind on blogging again, mostly because school started and chaos ensued and I'm only now starting to feel back in control of everything.

And right now, as I sat alone at my kitchen table to eat some dinner, I realized: my house is silent, except for the hum of the washing machine.

Camille is next door; 10 minutes ago she came home and asked how long she could stay at her friend's house and whether she could have ice cream. Gabriel went to a neighborhood community center with his friends to go swimming. John is taking a nap.

I woke up today at 5:45, worked 7 to 3:30 in the office, picked up the kids from school, worked again from 4:15 until about 6, then picked up the house and folded laundry. It's 8 p.m. and I have nothing left that I have to do - I even managed to help both kids with their homework and piano and guitar practice while I was cleaning up.

It feels like a little glimpse of what's to come: the older these kids get, the more independent - and the quieter the house. It's weird. And frankly, it makes me uncomfortable.

Oh, and in uneventful running news, I ran 22 miles yesterday, then had brunch with the girls, then went shopping for birthday presents, then spent the afternoon and evening at a birthday barbecue on the beach in Seattle. Got home late, had to bathe both kids, get lunches and uniforms ready for school tomorrow, and prepare for work today. Just a typical weekend day, right?

Cross-posting from the Zune Insider blog

Check this out: http://zuneinsider.com/archive/2008/08/21/what-happens-to-a-kid-when-mom-works-for-zune.aspx

Something I wrote for a work-related blog I contribute to. Fun!

Four five-mile runs

Today we had 20 miles on the schedule. Despite running pain free this week, the leg workout Danielle gave me Wednesday basically destroyed my quads, so I didn't run much up to Sunday. I did go out dancing...in heels...twice.

So Aleks and I really wanted to run a flat course for physiological reasons - my knee and her hip issues are exacerbated on hills. And Portland is a really flat course, so I felt okay with an easy run.

We decided to leave her car at a park along the Cedar River Trail and run out five miles, then back five, then meet up with Nancy and Sarah and run five out the other way.

Running this way - with four five-mile sections - made it feel so easy. I felt like every 2.5 miles was actually a milestone: we were halfway through that section!

The first 10 miles was pretty easy. Nancy and Sarah weren't quite ready when we got back to the parking lot, so we stopped for a potty break. I walked around the parking lot for a few minutes and felt...nothing. No soreness, no pain - only the tiniest bit of tiredness.

The second 10 miles was much more interesting, both because of the scenery and because Aleks and I played a game. We had to work into our conversation certain obnoxious words...and every 15 minutes I had to mention that I was an Ironman. It was kinda easy to do that, since today is Ironman Canada 2008. But the other words...including "sausage factory," "beaver," "butt plug," and "corn hole" proved to be a little more challenging...but super-entertaining for Aleks and me. We did let Nancy and Sarah in on the joke by the end of the run.

Whenever I run, no matter the distance, I feel done at 75 to 80% of the run - whether the distance be 6 miles, 16, or 26. Today was no different. I felt fine, but by mile 17, I wanted to be done. But nothing hurt, so I just kept moving.

Aleks decided at 17 to empty the gas tank, so she ran ahead. When I finally reached her, I said, "Am I done? Did I hit 20?" I knew she had her GPS and would have run right up until 20 miles - not 19.9 or whatever. She told me I had to keep moving to a sign down the street a bit, so I took off sprinting to finish it off. I really wanted to get exactly 20 today.

When I finished, I felt amazing. Sure, my legs are exhausted - even now, seven hours later, they're so heavy and tired and I feel almost ill. But seriously, my runner's high today was a flood of serotonin: I felt awesome! I couldn't stop smiling! I ran 20 miles pain-free and in 3:40 - which is an 11-minute mile average, but whatever! I can run happy, if slow.

And now, Aleks and I have one more long run two weekends from now - a 22-miler - and then we taper for the marathon. I'm almost through my hard training!

We're doing WHAT?

Met Danielle for weight lifting today...where she said, "We're doing legs today!"

OW!!! Pyramid sets of lunges and squats hurt. I mean, you know you're going to be sore the next day when you finish the workout already sore.

But it's all good. I need it.

Ran yesterday; just six miles, but for the first time in a while, the six felt completely effortless. I mean, I did my 18 happy, but I haven't had a truly effortless run in a while. So yay!

Party like a rock star, train like an athlete

This weekend was slated for two events: Christopher Lawrence at Last Supper Club, and an 18-mile training run.

Accomplishing both would be a major feat. After all, a good night in the club means drinking, staying up late, partying, dancing - and to run 18 miles means eating well, hydrating, getting lots of rest.

Hmm. They don't at first seem particularly compatible, huh?

Not even just at first: They're NOT. But I'm happy that I managed - with the help of my lovely husband - to do both.

I took Friday off of work to spend with out-of-town family and the kids. Once my out-of-town relatives took off on the cruise they had scheduled, the kids and I ran errands and got ice cream together, so we spent a pretty nice afternoon. (They were semi-fun errands: getting a microphone stand for Gabriel so he can sing and play guitar at the same time, getting Camille's school uniforms - more adorable than you'd think.)

The kids and I played and made dinner together in the late afternoon, and the babysitter arrived around 9:30. By the time we hit the club, we were ready for a good time. Tons of friends there, great music - it was a blast. Per Danielle's advice, I drank vanilla stoli and soda, but in a tall glass - so only one shot of liquor at a time and lots of soda. I think that helps to stave off some dehydration.

But you know how when you're out at night and you're having a good time, and you don't want the night to end? Well, John and I both felt that way - and he had been invited to a bachelor party in a hotel nearby. The bachelor party had been to the club earlier, so they knew I was with John - and they said it was cool for me to come, too! So I attended my first bachelor party. It was really just a bunch of guys we knew sitting around and being silly, but it was fun.

So we were out until about 4:30. I slept until around noon (John barely slept at all), and then hung with the kids until it was time to go to a birthday party. The birthday party rocked - all the kids were entertained, all the adults sat outside and chilled.

That evening, though, everyone was invited over another friend's house, and that's where I had to draw the line. I said I'd be in bed by 9:30 p.m., and actually I was in bed at 8:30 with two Tylenol PM. I fell asleep and slept until 5:45 a.m. - woke up feeling refreshed and happy. John was awesome - he really wanted to go out, so he got a babysitter even though I was home to make sure I didn't have to referee. We also had a couple extra kids over, doing a favor for another friend.

So I got up, choked down half a bagel and half a banana (so hard to get the calories in in the morning!), and Aleks met me at the house.

I planned a route that involved a two-mile climb half a mile into the run. Ha. Then the rest was all rolling hills - the next 2 on pavement, then nearly 10 on trail, then the rest back on pavement.

At mile 9, I got a terrible pain in my left knee. It felt like my lower leg was unscrewing itself from my knee - like my leg could turn around backwards and was hanging by a thread. It sucked. I could tolerate the pain as it built, but then something would happen and it would get really sharp and painful - so much so that I cried out.

But I was determined to do 18 miles, no matter what. I haven't had a solid long run yet; the 16-miler was difficult cardio-wise, and it was really important to me that I break through and have a good run. And this one, honestly, felt great up until then. I could breathe easily, I felt comfortable, I felt like, frankly, I could run a marathon. So how dare my knee act up?

I walked a few steps - very quickly - and realized it didn't hurt at all while walking. It also didn't hurt much on flat or downhill ground - just uphill. So I decided to run as much as I could, and walk when I couldn't take the pain any longer.

I did this for the rest of the trail route - six miles more. Scheris stayed with me, while Nancy and Aleks ran ahead. We met up with Nancy and Aleks at the trailhead (it's a loop), and Scheris left. The three of us decided to change up the route to stay on pavement, and end at a Starbucks. :-)

On pavement, my knee hurt less - but still hurt. Finally though I realized it hurt the same no matter what speed I ran. The pain changed only with the grade. So I ran as much as I could - and honestly, I pretty much ran the rest of the remaining 3.5 miles - and finished pretty happy.

Weirdly, I feel a lot less sore than I did after the 16-miler. Pretty much I have no muscle soreness, except a tight right calf (which I had before I started the run anyway, I woke up with it yesterday). And my knee isn't too bad - it doesn't hurt at all really while walking, and it only hurts a tiny bit climbing stairs.

I'm probably going to do a short run this afternoon to see how things feel. And I kind of want to see a doctor to figure out what could be the problem and whether I can fix it. At the same time, I don't want to be told not to run...not now, when I feel like things are finally coming back together.

So, my house is mess, my laundry isn't done, I haven't gone grocery shopping...but I balanced the best I could to accomplish some goals. There's always tomorrow for chores!

Remind me to work out when I feel bad

I've been lifting and on a much better workout schedule for the last couple of weeks, and I feel better. Already I can lift almost as much as I could before, and today in a circuit training class I noticed my balance was way better than it has been.

I knew I lost it pretty quickly; looks like it's coming back just as quickly.

Thank goodness! I also am in a better mood...then again, it's only Monday. :-)

Wow, you're fat!

So last night, I'm in a bar. And this is what often happens in my scene - electronic dance music in Seattle, specifically trance and progressive. There are like way way more men than women, and I'm married and somewhat oblivious, so I don't really notice people. Or, it takes me a while to notice them. And I'm busy dancing anyway and trying not to make eye contact with anyone I'm not married to.

Guys, though, they don't have too many women to look at, so they look at them all - including me. Often because they've seen me over weeks and months at the same clubs they're going to, they decide that they know me - and maybe because the scene is small and everyone is connected by probably three degrees, let alone six, they think we've been introduced.

We haven't. I remember people once I look at them and talk to them.

This guy is talking to my friends, and turns to talk to my husband. It's quite possible John and the guy have met before, but I know I haven't met him, though he looks vaguely familiar. We've probably been to like 20 events at the same time and I didn't know.

We start talking; he tells me he works on the same campus as I do, so obviously he's seen me at the office. Hmm. Okay. Then we start talking about bar fights, and how he's never seen one in five years of going to this particular club. And John decides to tell him the story of my bar fight.

So I say, "Well, you know, this was Thursday night after I completed an Ironman on the previous Sunday. I was still all pumped up about being an Ironman and feeling strong and stuff."

He confirms what an Ironman is - "A full marathon, after how much swimming and biking?" and I tell him. He asks where, I tell him in Penticton, in the mountains. And then:

"I thought you had to look like Lance Armstrong to do an Ironman! Wow!"

Of course I smile and brush it off, saying, "Well, no, all you have to do is train properly. I didn't win, but I definitely did it."

A few minutes later, after a change of topic, he's back to: "So, you really did all of it?"

I reply, "Well, yeah, I wouldn't be talking about being an Ironman if I didn't!"

So of course I'm just thinking, wow. This guy thinks I'm totally fat, not athletic, not capable of finishing an Ironman.

I should kick his ass!