SPOKE TOO SOON

travel bullshit. i hate delta. i hate chase bank.

i wanna throttle someone. for real.

i'm gonna go unpack all the shit i need to get ready to leave the house at 2:30 in the morning and try this shit all over again.

I'll be home for Christmas

You can plan on me.

Heading to the airport in a mere few hours, and I'm so happy I can hardly stand it.

There is much packing to do, much cleaning to do, and I'd like to get my hair trimmed if my girl is in today...

We shall see. Regardless, this time tomorrow, I'll be waking up in Arkansas. I hope.

Best Christmas present ever.

like death

food poisoning. or stomach flu. or something else equally unpleasant.

errgghhh. gahd. balls.

vom and trots and abdominal cramping and sweating and fever and...oh jesus.

no relief all day. none whatsoever.

It's the Holiday Season...

And I'm officially awful.

I'm hitting up parties and shindigs and festive soirees like, every other day. And this means - spending more money than I should/have on drinks and food and cabs and such. Awful.

It also means, being too sleep-deprived/cold/just plain lazy to do any running. Also, the joints are REEEEEAAAALLLLLY unhappy with the shoes right now, so I've sorta cut back for the time being. Lousy excuse, I know. Awful.

Aaaannnnd, it means that my "Holiday Cheer" has maybe kinda sorta crossed over into the realm of Holiday forgiveness...or of, um...Holiday weakness...or of, i don't know, Holiday "oh, what the hell-ness". And I've fallen off the wagon. Awful.

But not that awful. All of it is kinda fun actually. None of it is good for me, but all of it is certainly fun...for now.

Runnin' Down a Dream

I'm still running down a dream. Coincidentally, that's another of the songs on my running mix that really gets me going. So far this week I've clocked about ten miles.

A long 4.5 on monday, impressive considering the shoddy start to my week. I logged these miles on the treadmill at the gym, because it was rainy out. It was boring and all of the numbers on the machine really weren't good for my neurotic tendencies. Running on the treadmill has several drawbacks. First, I really get a sense of how slow I actually am. Second, it's surrounded by mirrors, which I can't ignore (and it's not like I look good). Third, I immediately feel as though I must compete with the pace/time/calorie count/ of the runners on either side of me. Fourth, I'm not getting anywhere. Fifth, my excessive sweating is on brightly-lit display.

Of course there are benefits as well. I run faster on the treadmill. If I feel like running a ten-minute-mile, all I have to do is bump the thing up to six mph and hang in there. I can see how many calories i'm burning, which isn't actually that important to me, but at least when i'm running nowhere I can derive some sort of satisfaction from knowing that I just eliminated a hefty chunk of the day's caloric intake. Other than that...I guess it's easier on my joints than the esplanade is. Mmmm, esplanade.

I took tuesday off, and made wednesday a really easy short run (because I was pressed for time), compensating by climing up and down the six flights at home at least ten times for the sake of the laundry.

Wednesday night I went to the screening of The Savages, and afterward listened to three incredible actors and a magnificent director talk about their craft in a way that made me so joyful I cried. The words and phrases the used, and the passion with which they expressed themselves was so akin to the way that I feel and articulate that it took my breath away. And then I said to myself "I can't keep working this bread job". I can't keep doing something that keeps me from doing the something I came here to do. Do you follow? Then I went to P.J. Clarkes and ate a delicious sit-like-a-stone-in-my-belly bacon cheeseburger. Effectively negating at least a week of training.

Tonight was another good jag at the esplanade. Did I just say jag? Who does that? Jesus. My blood sugar must be low. Anyway, 4 miles or so today, and not quite as cold as my last long run outside. OH! And my new baby ipod is here! It was MUCH better to run with. I'm still enjoying my new mix, interspersed with lots of Christmas music (Run DMC's "Christmas in Hollis" really gets me going).

This leads me to my desperate plea. Dear friends, please oh please, send me music to run to. I don't care how you do it - a cd, a playlist, a comment with "hey, put [insert track here] on your running mix", anything. I find that once my body realizes that it can keep moving, it's really the songs that keep me from stopping. So, help a sister out. Send me some love, via Sly and the Family Stone, or whatever it is that works for you.

Please? Thank you.

Training Update

It seems that this blog is probably about to take a major turn. No longer the forum for discussion of my romantic failings. Lesson learned there. Apologies rendered. Ego bruised. (Coincidentally, this blog will also be moving to a strictly by-subscription basis. I know of a few regular readers who will be able to access the blog. If there are others out there who wish to be subscibers, please make yourself known.)

I would, however, like to use it as a way to document my successes and failures on my journey to a marathon (and just to success in general). My major guidance thus far has come from a clever little book, The (Non) Runner's Marathon Guide for Women, by Dawn Dias. I find her story of undertaking this training, and her biting sarcasm to be incredibly similar to mine. And it's really helpful to know that I can do this and not actually die. She did. Her most vehement suggestion is to regularly journal or blog to record your progress and experiences with the run. Everything, from distance, to shoes, to ipod programming is worth noting. So, here we go. I promise, my sarcasm and self-deprication will not disappoint.

This week I ran eight miles. That's not much, but since I only ran twice this week, I think that's saying something. My first run this week (and actually in several weeks) was my Thanksgiving Day 4-miler along the East River Esplanade. This was my first foray onto this particular path. It's much less of a trek from home than the park, and a nice option to have for an outdoor run. Thanksgiving day in NYC was lovely this year. It was a comfortable, sunny sixty degrees, and i ran in sweatpants and a tee shirt. The sweatpants turned out to be far too baggy. I won't be doing that again. In fact, if I have the chance to run in sixty degree weather again anytime soon, I'll be doing it in shorts. I think I must have been enticed by the concept of the pockets in my sweatpants...and the fact that I definitely hadn't put razor to leg in more than a fortnight.

I'm consistently finding that the most difficult part of my run is the first half-mile or so. No doubt this will change as mileage increases, but for now, it's definitely the getting started that's the hardest part. I inevitably feel like I'm going to have to turn around and pack it in for the first five to ten minutes of the run. Also, I am happy to report that I might be well on my way to setting a new record for "world's slowest runner". Seriously, I walk faster than I run. I think I might be doing it wrong. I need a coach. I entertain the idea of a running buddy, but then realize that finding one as slow as me might prove problematic. Perhaps I could pitch a reality show to VH1 about it. They'll make all manner of crap into a televised competition. And really, I think my journey from couch to finish line is far more interesting than anything they're cooking up on A Shot at Love, with Tila Tequila. Who is that tiny bisexual, anyway?

So, anyway, Thursday's run went pretty well. My only major complaint being that I have grown tired of the playlist I've been running to. Also, it was the only time on Thanksgiving that I actually came in contact with other living, breathing human beings. Had I not left my apartment for this run, I would have gone the entire holiday without seeing another living soul. I am thankful for my little Turkey Trot. I wasn't even terribly sore on friday. A little strained in the legs at work, but definitely not debilitatingly aching. This probably means it's time to up my mileage. Or my speed. Or my skill.

I took friday off, opting for a big Italian dinner and wine at Bar Pitti, followed by a late night showing of I'm Not There at the Film Forum. Both were delicious. And I think that you're supposed to do that anyway, right? Give the muscles a day to rest and rebuild, right? Eat tasty pasta and Italian deserts, right? Right.

Today was a full day at work until 5 or so (oh, the Saturday horror), and then upon my return home, a preparation for another run. Major difference between Thursday's run and today's...about thirty degrees. Sweet Lord, did it get cold here. And let me just say, this drop in temperature in combination wtih my stubborn idea to become a runner has led to some fashion...douche-baggery...of epic proportions. I fear that it shall only get worse as the temperature begins to drop. Let's just say, this is the first time in at least fifteen years that I have left home with my head completely covered by a tuque. (See that Canada word there, we call them toboggans where I come from. I know it's a sled. It's a hat too. Fuck off, Yankees. Wikipedia recognizes my jargon.)

I also left home with triple layers under my puffy vest, legwarmers over my socks, and new patagonia yoga pants - fold down waistband folded UP to keep my tummy a little warmer, and my everyday gloves. The run was actually even better than Thursday's. Same route, but this time, after dark, and with the full moon bouncing whimsically off the swirling black water. I could see all the way down the island, bridge by lighted bridge. It was really beautiful. There are a couple of folks a little upset with me at about the half-mile marker. I'm assuming based on sheer location, that these angry beasts are my ovaries. I don't know what else it might be. Something in the general vacinity of my lower abdomen doesn't appreciate this cold-weather jarring. Neither do my knees, or my left arch. My ass is okay with it, because it was immediately numbed when I stepped outside, and never regained feeling for the duration of the run. Really.

My ipod is not okay with the repeated jarring either. It's frozen up consistently on all of my outdoor runs. This is going to be remedied in a couple of days when my new shuffle arrives in the mail. Yep, a black-friday online special on the little devil was too good to pass up. And my big daddy ipod will thank me for the minor expenditure. I was hoping to hold out until christmas, but I think this will be a much better idea. The best thing about tonight's run, I must say, was a new running mix (thanks, Max), full of things that I couldn't predict. Several songs made me burst into full out sprint, the first one being the Chili Peppers "Can't Stop". That's actually what snapped me out of my normal shitty first half mile. Thank God.

This first cold weather run did give me a whole list of things that I need to aquire to make this whole thing run more smoothly. Pun intended.

1. Expertly fitted shoes. These have treated me well for over a year of cross-training, but they aren't the right shoes for me to be running in. I don't know which shoes are. I need to go to a store that caters exclusively to runners and get this really figured out. It's going to be a big expense. I'm going to try to hold out on this until after Christmas too, but my joints might not allow it.

2. Running tights. That's what they call the spandexy leggings that you wear while running. They're warm.

3. Layers of moisture-wicking fabric. Cotton thermals are no good. Although I wasn't aware of my sweating until I returned home and began to shed layers, I think there's a better way to do this. Also, things with key pockets are...key.

4. Some kind of lame specially for runners tuque. Toboggan. Aforementioned moisture wicking material.

5. Camelbak. Longer runs will demand that I actually take in some water.

6. these nifty earmuff/headphone things i saw in the sharper image catalog at work. for something like thirty five bucks, you can have warm ears and hear your tunes. i became a bit alarmed tonight when my sweaty headphones began to shock the inside of my ear.

7. a stopwatch and pedometer. preferably combined. something that tells me how far and how fast. or slow.

8. someone who knows what they're doing to oversee me doing what i'm doing.

9. more time in the day.

I'm exhausted, and feel TB settling in, as a result of breathing arctic air while panting my way down the esplanade. I like that word.

The Purges

In the few days since the elimination of the boy, my spirits have soared by leaps and bounds. I wish it had happened sooner. I had no idea how absolutely liberated I would feel. It was as though once my mind was made up to be truly finished, my life could come back into being. I haven't felt so absolutely free in almost a year.

You see, with the boy, even when it was good, I was never at ease. I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I anticipated the inevitable breakdown. I didn't ever reach a point of actual trust. And why would I? What precedent would lead me to believe that he could in fact be trusted? None.

I wonder how much of the whole thing could have been avoided had I stopped letting my pride dictate my decisions. I think that more often than not, I sacrified my happiness and kept trying in an effort to save face. I didn't want to be that girl who couldn't make it work. How completely ridiculous.

I'm reminded of something Gary said to me once. I was rambling on about something completely unrelated, and he stopped me with these words: "Laura, you can't fix him."

And now that I've finally stopped trying, I couldn't be happier.

And now, it is time for the purging. I feel the need to symbolically rid myself of all of this dust-collecting (literally and metaphorically) crap in my life. I am purging my closets, my paperwork, my bookshelves, and my heart and mind. I am replacing my bedding (which carries the bad karma of relationships past) with fresh, clean, white linens. I don't want to sleep amidst the ashes of things past anymore.

Good riddance to bad rubbish, and bring on the new day...