No. 45 (or 15337th place)

So I decided a little while ago that I should run the Bolder Boulder this year.  I had done it the first time back in 2004 with a couple friends of mine.  I had started running "for real" maybe in 2003 or 2002, and was enjoying doing local 5k's.  I was really enjoying being able to run, so I entered the BB10k and started training.  I ran 6 miles once, which was two laps around City Park, and felt ready for it.  And I was!  My friends and I ran the whole thing without stopping (which was our/my personal goal).  We kept a slow and steady pace, finishing at a reasonable, if not humble, 1:10:58.  I ran it again in 2005, finishing in 55:53.  In between these two races, I ran a half-marathon in Carlsbad, CA in January of 2005.  I trained in Denver through the winter, which meant that the actual race at sea level at a comfortable 60 degrees was pretty fantastic.  I can't remember my actual finish time for the half, but it was nearly dead-on 10:00 mile (I honestly think something like 131 minutes, 28 seconds).  And I haven't gone farther than a 10k since then. 

I was so glad that the same friend I ran with in 2004 wanted to run with me again this year.  We have always had fairly similar paces, so I felt good about being able to run the whole thing with her again (without stopping ha ha).  And we did!  She set a strong pace, and we finished in 1:00:53.  I came in 15337th place out of more than 50,000 people.  It's a HUGE race.  On the course, there were no fewer than 3 slip-n-slides in people's yards that a runner could choose to dive through (I chose no).  One appeared either filled with beer, or really dirty water.  At mile 2, there was the unofficial "marshmellow station", with a guy tossing marshmellows out into the runners.  I didn't get one, and I'm still a little sad about that.  There was an Elvis impersonator, whom my friend high-fived.  [To make it easier for future reference, I'll call her the Pie Girl, since that's how we became friends.  I am aware all my personal business is out there in

 this blog, but I don't see the need to bring any unwanted attention to the Pie Girl.  Also keeping in mind that being called the Pie Girl is not a reflection of her appearance in any stretch of the imagination.  She is quite petite and fit.  I will be mentioning her again in future blogs.  Back to the race.]  

Somewhere around mile 4 was an elusive donut stand.  I saw a girl running with a donut, and I told the Pie Girl with undisguised envy, "that girl has a donut".  She had seen the stand, but somehow, I missed it.  People come out to the neighborhoods and eat their breakfast in their pajamas, and at least once the smell of bacon was overwhelming.  Nearing mile 6 was a girl with a plate of cupcakes.  I applauded her (literally), but declined.  I wasn't feeling like eating a cupcake just then.  Weird, I know. 

The BB finishes with a run through the CU football stadium.  It's super fun (?) to sprint this last little part.  It's loud, there's music playing, the stands are full of people cheering you on, and you're almost done!  So I sprinted (read: accelerated from a jog to a run) to the end.

And as an aside, this race is always run on Memorial Day.  I had always thought of Memorial Day as a day to honor fallen soldiers.  However, the BB gives you a free bib to honor any and all people who have served/are currently serving.  And I was so excited to put two people of whom I am quite proud: my currently serving Sergeant First Class super secret squirrel brother-in-law, and friend from previous job who was apparently a major bad-ass in the Army at one time.

The Pie Girl and I had a great run.  On the drive back from Boulder, we talked about triathlons.  She's done one, I haven't.  It's something I kind of always wanted to do, but a) didn't have a decent bike and b) didn't have consistent pool access.  I now have a more than decent bike.  So, before I lost my nerve, feeling all super confident and mighty, we registered for the "Tri for the Cure" in Cherry Creek State Park on August 7th.  That gives me just over nine weeks to find a pool, and see if I can even swim 750 meters. 

I feel pretty confident I could do the whole race without training any harder than I ordinarily would do over a summer.  But all bravado and braggadocio aside, by "do" I mean “finish”.  Not heroically, not without a lot of discomfort, and likely not without feeling pretty miserable the whole time, and perhaps with a dramatic crawl to the finish line.  Soooo, I'll find a pool (I already found a couple at rec centers I can pay through the nose to use), and figure this thing out.  And perhaps, eat my words.

I'll admit that the swim part makes me nervous.  It's in a yucky reservoir (one year participants in this same tri all got some horrible skin rash from a parasitic snail or something godawful), it's in open water, there will be a bunch of other swimmers with their arms and legs all kicking out everywhere, and I've never done anything like that before.  And I have literally no concept of what it means to swim 750 meters.  It's like, half a mile.  Is that far?  I don't even know.  It sounds far.  I suppose I'll find out soon enough.

And just to see if I am over-confident or actually capable, this weekend I will attempt the entire bike/run portion.  So I'll ride my bike 11.4 miles (maybe 12 to call it good) and then run 3.1 miles.  My logic is that I can ride 30 miles and be OK, and I just ran 6.2 miles and was OK.  I can probably do half of each at the same time and be OK.  Right??  

Eeek a mouse! XLIV

The other day (like, two days ago), our cat became unusually fascinated with our oven drawer.  Riveted.  So much so that she had managed to fish out a Tylenol PM with her paw while attempting to get at whatever had caught her attention.
And naturally, we had to open the drawer to find out what was going on.  And there it was, scrambling over every piece of bakeware that I own, a mouse.  Soooooo gross.  It's grubby little nasty mouse feet touching all my stuff.  Ew ew ew ew ew.  And somehow, in the brief moments that I saw the damn thing, it seemed deliberate.  Like it was trying to literally touch everything in the drawer.  Husband mimed the mouse licking its paw and purposefully touching my muffin tray.  Funny!  And gross.  Yucky filthy mouse.
The bakeware was removed, and a peanut butter baited snap trap was set.  Four smashed mice later, we're hoping to be nearly done taking down the mouse metropolis within our walls. 
Now, you'd think a cat would be an asset in this kind of situation.  And as interested as she was in getting under the drawer, she can't really fit.  And then, she has no claws.  But she is marvelous at alerting us to the presence of mice.  And really, I'd rather a snap trap catch it anyways, and not have some mutilated chewed on mess in the middle of the kitchen.  Or in my bed.  You get the idea.
And besides, after she realized she's never getting into the drawer, she appears to be quite at ease and relaxed, knowing the mice situation will soon be under control.  And I'm still very very proud of her for trying.

Mice: Fear This!

A tisket, a tasket (this is my cat Basket). XLIII

I've really just been waiting for something to say before I blogged again.  I guess I don't have a whole lot, but here's a few things:

I had a fun bike ride last weekend on the first nice day (occurring on a weekend) in months.  Everything about it was ideal, except that the breakfast bar I brought with me to eat at my turnaround point somehow wormed it's way out of my bike fanny pack.  So no food for me, for 30.5 miles.  But it was fine.  And my smashburger that night was delicious!

Also, my cat has returned to spending time on my lap.  Usually only in the mornings, but occasionally in the evenings.  Mostly when she's picked up and placed on my lap, and coerced into staying there with attentive ass-scratching.  Look at that face.  And that belly!

And, we had a great time renting kayaks and paddling around Cherry Creek Reservoir with some friends.  Husband wanted to explore a new hobby, and invited us all to join him.  Besides the swarm of bugs that followed us around the lake, and the blister I got between my thumb and forefinger (which I have been made aware is both barely noticeable and not dramatic in this picture), it was a fun experience.

And finally, I am keeping fingers crossed and holding breath that maybe, maybe, my nerve thing is on it's way out.  Not gone, still get little reminders here and there, but I am definitely spending less time thinking about it, and that must be because I am less aware of it.  And, I'm off the seizure meds altogether.  My sleep sucks, but it's all an adjustment, right? 

So, I am hoping to plan a "Whatever Was Wrong With Me, It's Gone Now" party very soon.  And with any luck, my hair will look fabulous.

42. Deep breaths.

Gah, alright.  This blog is a bit personal, but hey.  I trust you all to "do no harm".
So in my gradual weaning off the Klonopin (the anti-seizure, tranquilizing drug that had been "easing" my nerve deal), I have encountered, er, difficulties at each stage.  Both physiological and psychological hiccups. 
Physiologically, each time I cut back, I enjoy multiple sequential sleepless restless nights, followed by several days of general jitteriness and creepy drug withdrawal feelings.
Psychologically, it's a whole horror show inside my head.  First, not sleeping, as we have learned, makes me emotionally labile.  Add that to feeling jittery, and my need to attribute this jitteriness to something actually happening in my life, and I am practically seeking out things that perhaps ordinarily would upset me, and assuming that's why I'm jittery and antsy and otherwise edgy/irritable.  For example, last night we had our annual HOA meeting.  Husband is the President of the board, making me First Lady, and requiring my presence.  Booo.  These meetings are just an opportunity for home owners to show up and yell about this or that, hear a satisfactory answer, then repeat themselves ad nauseum until eventually, the meeting is adjourned.  Not excited about it.  Feeling generally meh about it, but turning into some bigger deal than it needs to be in my head, because I am already in like, junkie medication withdrawal and feel like poop.
But then, I get there, and although there was one brief moment with several people yelling at once about the inefficient snow removal we experienced this past winter where I wanted to die, it really wasn't too bad.  I practiced self-calm techniques.  Which for me, are not some highly sophisticated technique of relaxation, or cognitive behavioral therapy of some kind.  They involve seeking out the humor in the situation (perhaps by judging others in my head, yes, I admit it), and realizing that eventually this meeting will be over, and I can share my funny thoughts with my neighbors later.  So, the table with all the yelling Grumpy Gills, suddenly became known to me as "the HumDrum-V", whereas the table I sat at (with the board members) was "the Fun-V".  This is from Iron Man, a pun about the Hum-Vs they were riding in.  Hah hah hhhah.
But back to more of what else is going on in my head.  I'm completely off the Klonopin as of two nights ago.  I've been hoping to be able to do this for MONTHS.  What's stopped me?  Fear.  Fear that if I stop, I'll feel worse and have to get back on.  Fear of what that might mean if I do feel worse, will I ever fucking just get better?  But you know, it hasn't been too bad.  At least, it's better than it was this time last year.  And for as incredibly impatient as I am, calculating recovery time in months or seasons is almost offensive an idea.  But, it's the only measurement in which I can see an improvement, so I have to accept it.  I would've loved to have said, yeah, just the other day my nerves were doing this crazy weird numb/tingly thing and it was kinda annoying, but this week it's completely gone and I feel awesome.  Instead, I'm stuck with, last April I had a spinal tap and my brain leaked fluid for a week.  I feel better than that now.  Even slightly better is that, last July I said I'd be OK if this was as good as it got for me, because at least I feel better than I did two months ago, and I feel better now than I did in July.  I can EVEN say that I feel better now than I did in March.  And that's almost miraculous.
And somehow, through all this crap, I can still enjoy a nice puffy cloud in the sky.

So, please, keep your fingers crossed I make it through this week on sub-par sleep without totally flipping out.  And that I don't start to feel worse.  And that I can adjust to life without the constant sedation I've experienced the last 13 months.  And, please, be impressed that I have made all these incredible observations about myself and shared them all with you (self-mocking tone there).

No. 41

Alright, so although these topics may seem inane and superficial, I'm going to try and tie them into mindfulness and gratitude anyway.
First, I've been into getting manicures lately.  It was a luxury I couldn't really indulge in with my previous job, as not only were long nails not allowed in my profession, they would've been ruined within days.  So on a whim, I went to the salon where I've gotten many pedicures and asked for a manicure.  Husband had requested "those French tips" (it actually still baffles me that he knew what those were), so that is what I requested.  The manicurist suggested I try the "gel" polish, since it was new and would last longer.  I'm convinced, sure, what the hell.  Gel it up.
And honestly, I didn't really realize how nice manicures are.  Or that I apparently have really nice natural nails.  The few times I've gone, the other women in the salon have commented on them, and the manicurists there just rave about them.  Actually, there have been several similar conversations that were a bit strange to me: "are those yours?" (in reference to my nails), which gave me pause "whose else would they be, seriously?" and to which the manicurist replied, almost proudly, "yes, those are her real nails".  Which is received with something like awe, and nods of approval.  So, I guess my "real" nails are a bit of a rarity in salons where most are acrylic. 
So, one day when I was just buzzing with nervous tension and restlessness, I went in after work for a manicure.  I struggled with it for awhile, because they are expensive and I didn't really need one for another few days, but I just wanted to indulge myself.  And it was lovely.  I was pampered and complimented for over an hour.  I was called "honey", all my fingerly flaws were tended to (some polish chips, cleaned up cuticles, nails reshaped, etc.), and I left after a nice hand and forearm massage with beautiful nails and higher spirits, and less of that "bleck" feeling.  I was thankful for that, and mindful of the pampering and self-care I had allowed myself.

And one more thing: I'd like to give a "shout out" to Tylenol PM.  I sort of feel like it's a bit magical.  I don't know if it's because when I take it, I can sleep forever, or if it has anything to do with the "PM" part (which is an anti-histamine; Benadryl), but the mornings after I take it, I wake up feeling almost healed.  As if, during the night, the anti-histamine has gone into my body, sought out and healed all the inflamed and irritated parts, and let me sleep for ten hours to wake up restored.  It's like a magic bean, coated in EZ swallow blue. 

Forty? Who knew I had that much to say...

I'm still a little hung up on my little union of gratitude and meaning that came to me last week.  So much so, that I am merging in a third idea: mindfulness.
This word has been the topic of much discussion at home lately.  I can't claim to know very much about the idea, but I can share a little bit about what it means to me.
First, mindfulness in regards to eating.  A mindful eating experience would include being aware of how the food feels and smells as you prepare it.  The sensation of the food in your hands, the aromas of it cooking, the sight of it on your counter/in your pot/etc.  Using all your senses before it even gets to your mouth.  Then, mindfulness of the food on your fork, or in your hands; feeling it's weight, noting the texture, inhaling it's scent as it nears your mouth. 
Once you take a bite, be aware of all the sensations you're experiencing.  How good it smells, the feel of the food in your mouth, how it tastes.  Maybe even enjoy the subtle mixing of flavors as you chew and enjoy, using all your senses.
This donut, for which I was very grateful last week, was an example of a mindful eating experience.  First, it sat on my desk for some time before I ate it.  So I could smell the sugary coconut for awhile.  Then, I picked it up, noted it's weight, the feel of the coconut flakes kind of smashing into the icing as I held it, then took a bite.  The awesome and kind of surprising thing, was that it tasted much like it looked (heavenly), but with a hint of lemon.  Interesting, right?

So, let's bring mindfulness into this marriage of gratitude and meaning. What do you think?  I think it's fantastic.  Feeling more present in your moment, more aware.  Experiencing your gratitude with all your senses.  Finding meaning in that moment.
And, eating coconut donuts.

Blog no. 39

I'm apologizing for the length between blogs.  I've meant to everyday, but just didn't.  No reason, other than maybe now I'm feeling more self-conscious than usual, because I have some new followers?  Maybe not, maybe I've just been lazy.

I did have some moments this week of self-awareness that were a bit insightful.  The first one having to do with being tired.  Since I've been weaning myself off the Klonopin, I haven't been sleeping well.  Worse than usual, even.  This insomnia has been the, hard to fall asleep, wake up earlier and earlier each day kind.  So last week, Wednesday night, I barely slept at all.  I had to wake up early Thursday for a doctor's appointment, and I was thinking, "Great!  Since I'm so tired, I'll be really relaxed for this appointment.  Perfect." 
It occurred to me a bit later, while walking across the breezeway from my office building to the hospital where my appointment was, that tired and relaxed are two ENTIRELY different states of being.  Tired is like, the opposite of relaxed.  (These are thoughts I'm having across the breezeway). 
Tired is thin, fragile, weak, and unsupported.  Events that occur while tired are magnified on a logarithmic scale, amplified by a brain that just can't process them correctly.  Things feel personal that aren't.  Stressful things are just too much, leading to tears or fits of anger that are entirely inappropriate to the situation.  Tired does NOT equal relaxed.  It's SO obvious now.  Like, hit your head with your hand obvious.  Duh!  But up until then, I think I forced myself to relate the two states (tired = relaxed) so that I could function better while exhausted and sleep-deprived.  But it was actually just making things worse!  Why am I crying?  Why am I so hungry?  Why does nothing sound good to eat except M&Ms?  Why can't I sleep?  Why are all these awful horrible things happening to me? (read: awful horrible things such as, I forgot my fork and/or water bottle at work, so must use plastic fork and/or plastic cup).
When really, I must just acknowledge, I am *tired*.  Things are harder when I'm tired.  But, I *know* this, and can deal with being tired.  I can also try to feel more relaxed about being tired.  One does not equal the other, yet one can occur within the framework of the other.  Meaning, I can be tired, and become relaxed.
Anyway, like I said, duh.  And yet, profound to me, on a Thursday morning, on the breezeway, to the hospital.  A life lesson learned.
So thank you, Moment of Clarity. 
And here, a quote from the author of the preface to my gratitude journal, Catherine Price; "...I felt something deeper inside me begin to change: I was training myself to appreciate the everyday beauty and joy that already existed in my life, and I was beginning to understand how I could create more of those experiences."
So this week, I feel like I have united two ideas - the original blog idea of finding meaning in the everyday, and gratitude.  I will find meaning in what already exists in my life, feel grateful, and learn how to continue to practice this idea.

(I just like this picture because my hair looks really red (it's brown) and I have makeup on.)  So here's me, looking into the future with a mindset to be more forgiving of myself when I am tired, and to find gratitude in my pretty amazing life.