Fitness--with a Chronic Illness

To begin, here's the rundown. This is not a whinging post or an "I wish I had a different life" post. I do not want you to feel sorry for me. I do not need solutions or supplements given to me; I have doctors and experts doing that. Keep your pyramid schemes and juice cleanses on Facebook. I'm good.

Today I'm going to write the blog post I wish I could have read as a preteen, a teen, when I started trying to become fit, and now. I keep randomly Googling, looking for this kind of post, and it just doesn't exist in the form I want it to. So I'm writing it.

Here's to being active and having a chronic illness.

No, that's not a sunburn or bad white balance, I'm that red after a run.

I have asthma and allergies and endometriosis and some other bonus diseases. My body mostly hates me. I'm on hormone therapy to shut my reproductive system down, and it still doesn't manage to do that, my hormones are so messed up. I try to work out three times a week. Here's why: I always feel healthier when I'm active.

But the bottom line is, I can't always do it. And that doesn't make me a bad runner, or a bad athlete, or a bad person. It doesn't undo what I've done and how fast I ran my last mile. It doesn't mean I'm not serious about being fit.

When I was in junior high, I approached my gym teacher and my doctor to ask why, when I ran even a lap of the gym, I felt like I was going to black out in pain. I was told it was a stitch in my side and to breathe through it. I ran slower because it hurt so much. Sometimes I walked. Later, I discovered that "breathing through it" could have killed me. I had a 17 inch cyst on my left ovary that could have ruptured at any time.

In high school, I was still in agony. I really wanted to be athletic, because that was the cool thing. I wanted long hair in a high ponytail, and to run down the street looking fit and healthy. I was neither fit nor healthy. I managed a fourteen minute mile my senior year and was proud. That summer, I had major surgery to remove the cyst I'd never known was there, the same cyst that caused the chronic pain I'd felt since junior high. I lost 15 pounds and part of an ovary during several hours of surgery.

In college, I discovered yoga, and I loved it. For once, my body wasn't fighting me. I stuck to yoga until I met a friend in a lit class and discovered she, now calmly taking notes, had run 23 miles right before coming to class. And I wanted to do that too.

I couldn't.

The face you make after being attacked by biting flies.

I'd hoped the surgery would have done away with what was keeping me still. But I kept getting dizzy and lightheaded. I still had joint pain almost every day, even when I did next to nothing. The longer I stood, the more my diaphragm HURT. I can't explain how that feels, but it sucks. I managed a three mile run with my friend. I spent the rest of the weekend coughing and gasping for air. Eventually, we found out that was asthma, which I'd been walking around with for years. I'd lucked out and never had a massive attack that landed me in the hospital, so I was never diagnosed. I got inhalers and steroids and medicines to make my sinuses work and my lungs work and I felt...well.

When I get steroids now, I wake up in the morning, roll out of bed, and have a full day of activity. I get more done at work and home than I thought possible. I can go outside and sit in the fresh air. I feel healthy. This is because at long last, my body works the way it was designed to work. That will never be my everyday.

My everyday is taking a handful of pills, steroid nasal spray, and inhalers. I feel ill for about an hour, which is why I wake up an hour earlier than I really need to, so I can spend that hour eating breakfast and watching YouTube waiting to feel human. On a good day, I feel better at about 6:50 AM. Then I start getting ready. On a good day, I can make it through work and then head to the gym. On a bad day, my joint and/or sinus pain is so bad I can't consider running or lifting weights, so I go home and spend my evening prone, watching TV or reading. That's okay.

It's taken me years--since the days of the 30 Day Shred on this blog--to learn to be okay with bad days. But they're fine.

I might never be a marathon runner. In fact, I almost certainly won't be. I'm still a runner. I'm still athletic. I'm physically fit, even with my "endo-belly." Even with all the times I have to stop at the side of the road and gasp. I'm a runner. I spent the spring recovering from a nasty case of bronchitis. I didn't run for two months. I'm still a runner.

Look at me, outside! Only slightly red-faced!

If you're like me, Couch to 5K won't work the way it says it will. I'm sorry that there's no training plan for us. We have to make our own. Count your spoons. Do you have enough?  Tie on your shoes, go outside or to the gym. Maybe you'll walk or ride a bike, maybe you'll feel well enough to run. Maybe tomorrow you'll do more, or maybe you'll spend the day lying down. It's fine. That happens to me too. We are enough.

I used to joke when someone asked if I was a runner. I would reply, "Yes, the world's suckiest!" Then I realized how cruel that was to myself. Spoonies, let's stop stomping on our accomplishments. Let's be proud of all the things we can do instead

Functional Fitness

You know what you deserve? A blog post. And you know what else you deserve? Stories of my misery, because those are always funny. So here is the story of the most horrible thing I've ever done to myself in a burst of ill-timed pride.

I was NOT the worst in gym at my high school. I know loads of people always say they were the most rubbish, they finished the mile last every time, and I was not that girl. I was usually not even picked last for sports. Why? Because I was the THIRD from the last. This meant I finished the mile and then there were a few other stragglers slightly behind me, meaning I wasn't the very last person so I was spared a minimal amount of embarrassment. I mean, I still ran a 14 minute mile. But I didn't run a 16 minute mile. I was usually picked for sports right before the other people no one wanted due to 1. asthma, 2. feuds, 3. refusal to participate, 4. physical inability to participate. I always got picked before the kids with broken limbs.

The Awkward Yeti makes comics that are my life. Go love them.

Of course, later, I found out why I sucked at gym. I had raging endometriosis and undiagnosed asthma. That hurts a person's athleticism quite a bit. I still suck at anything involving hand/eye coordination, but by darn, I can run a mile now. If I did the president's physical fitness test now, I would finish middle of the pack. Good for me.

But now is not high school, so I mostly compete with myself, and I have a good time going to the YMCA and running on the treadmill or lifting weights. I think, "Look at me, I did a thing!" and always leave the gym with a happier disposition than when I arrived. One thing still I wish I had was a fitness buddy. A person who goes to the gym when I go, who likes the same machine or wants to talk while we gasp for air in spin class. That was why I was vulnerable to this sort of problem in the first place.

I was planning on going right to the stationary bikes one evening, since I had missed spin class and figured, what the heck, I ran yesterday, I won't crush my shin bones again after giving them no rest. And then I saw a friend. Kelsey is Athletic. She does things like run in races and do well plus also volunteer to help during the races, while I mostly just sweat while trying to tie my shoes. Kelsey asked me if I was here for the class.

"What class?" I asked innocently.

"Functional Fitness!" Kelsey said cheerily. I automatically assumed that Functional Fitness was for the elderly and the infirm, because it is the sort of fitness designed to help you stay functional, right? Plus Kelsey had to be teaching it, because she works at the Y. Except then I found out that she doesn't anymore and she wasn't teaching, this was actually a HIIT class, much like my Jillian Michael's DVDs. Except unlike the Jillian DVDs, this was not thirty-five minutes long. It was more like an hour, maybe an hour and fifteen minutes. Of the most. Insane. Exercises. Of all TIME.

Let's go back to the part where I had come to ride on the stationary bike that day.

On the bike, I don't need my inhaler. I'm fine without it. So I didn't use it. And I didn't bring it upstairs. And I had actually left it in the car.

First we warmed up by running and doing jumping jacks and lunges other smallish things. Then we started doing stair runs down a stairway connecting the upstairs with the pool, meaning the hallway was crazy humid and also over 80 degrees. Then we did step ups on boxes and froggies and squats and sumo squats and glute bridges and...honestly I can't remember because I've blocked most of it out. We had to do four circuits of this. I thought, finally, as I finished my last squat, that we were done. Nope.

Then we had another batch of exercises, including mountain climbers, push-ups, sit ups, planking...and I thought we were done. But no. Another batch.

Now, if I'd remembered my inhaler I'd probably remember more of this class. But I forgot it and that meant my brain was getting less oxygen and so were my muscles, which responded by not working. I was having that weird jelly-shake-legs thing I had at the beginning of 30 Day Shred, but I thought no way was I going to give up because...

OTHER PEOPLE WERE WATCHING.

Already a respiratory therapist who just-so-happened to be in the class had alerted me to the fact that she could tell I was asthmatic and could save me if I needed it. I said, "Cool, my car keys are in my pocket, grab my inhaler from the trunk!" She stared at me, concerned at my level of sanity. "Why would anyone leave their inhaler in the car?" I imagined her thinking. "This chick must have a death wish."

The instructor, noticing my distress, had given me alternate tasks, so I ran on the track instead of on the stairs of death, but it was too late. I had destroyed my body and there was no coming back, all because I didn't want these people, who were clearly fit and healthy, to think I was less fit and healthy and therefore less worthy of their friendship. I wanted gym buddies, and there was no quitting, no backing down. For once, I was the Nike slogan from the 1990's, I just did it. I tried very hard not to say anything, even whimpers. I kept my form as good as possible, and even when my brain stopped, I still tried to keep count and do the exact number of each exercise I was supposed to do. Basically this happened inside me:

Seriously, you must go love The Awkward Yeti, genius of comics.

Then I went home.

I was broken. I could barely get out of the car, because when I bent my knees, they could not support my weight and I wiped out. I tried to run a bath, to help myself relax, and well, act this out for me:

• Stand up. Okay. Good.
• Now, bend over at the waist and bend your knees a bit, as if to touch the stopper at the bottom of your tub.
• Done? Now try standing back up without using your legs, arms, or core.

Yep. I got stuck. The Brother had to rescue me. Fortunately, the idea of taking off my clothes and the pain it would cause me had frightened me enough that I was still fully dressed, but he did get a hilarious video of me stuck, crying out for help as one foot began to slip out from underneath me. I could easily have become a household injury statistic, but no. I lived.

And I went back. I went back to the class with my inhaler and did better because my inhaler made a giant difference.

Also it turns out I had pneumonia through all of that, so maybe current Laura would actually LEAD the crowd in high school gym, because I seem to have upped my fitness game. BIG TIME.

Dear Past Laura: Running Lessons I Wish Someone Had Thought to Tell Me

Okay, one more post in which I impart fitness wisdom. Yeah, I know you're sick of these. This is a letter to Past Laura from Current Laura, teaching the lessons CL learned by trail and error that PL never found on the internet, even though she looked for it.

Dear Past Laura,

By now, you're realizing that Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred DVD taught you that if you're not gasping, sweating, and near collapse, you aren't actually working out. And since you're so good at her DVDs now, you're looking for a new challenge. So you've picked up running! That is really awesome. I've always wanted to be one of those running people I see from my car as I drive along, eating an ice cream cone from Dairy Queen (only 49 cents!) on my way home from work. I never thought I could because I sucked at fitness, but thanks to your hard work, you don't suck anymore! You can do 30 Day Shred, Ripped in 30, and whatever other DVDs you've tried, so you are READY for running. You have muscles. Thanks to you, I can run! That's pretty awesome. Feel proud of that.

But here's the thing: Other people aren't you. Running is easy for them, because they just have to put on shoes and go. But your body is a broken wasteland of aftermarket parts and salvaged materials. You are barely alive when you wake up in the morning. Have you SEEN you? I have. It is not a pretty sight.

You are not going to be a running success story like those blogs you read the other night. Yeah. I saw that. Not everyone is a success story right away. Not everyone becomes a marathon runner after a happy year of training. Some people never get one of those pretentious stickers for the back of their car, and that's okay! You are going to hurt yourself pretty quickly. Also you will probably not get better, because you're you. Also here are some more things you should know:

1. Guess what? You have chronic shin splints. This sucks for you, doesn't it? It sucks for me, too. 
2. More running makes chronic shin splints worse. Running every day makes them feel deadly, like your shins are made from fragments of broken glass that grind together with each step. Running two days in a row makes you want to cry. Adding distance too quickly will temporarily cripple you.
3. Couch to 5K doesn't work for you (see 1 and 2). It adds distance too quickly and will just make you feel like a failure. Plus it's use of timed running/walking splits doesn't actually build distance if you're running with shin splints. It just builds pain. Throw out the papers and delete the app.
4. Here's what DOES work. Go outside. Run until you feel like you're going to die, either from lack of oxygen (asthma), heart rate, or shin pain. Then walk until you feel like you might survive. Then go back to running. Repeat this cycle until you're feeling like a good workout has begun. Then TURN AROUND. You still need to get home. Do not run the next day.
5. At the most, run three days a week. Don't run those days back to back. Do not try to make up runs. Do not do a "long run" or a "short run." Those terms work for people who can handle various distances.
6. Do not run by yourself. Not only does this make street harassment more likely to happen, it also makes you sad. Sad running is stupid, because it defeats the purpose of running, which is to make you happier. Have someone ride their bicycle along with you, or take Darcy and run shorter distances. This will keep you running for longer, meaning you won't get depressed about everything sucking and quit for three months before starting over again.
7. Give up on all workout clothes except Old Navy's. Their leggings come in Tall.
8. Seriously, get your shoes fitted. And when the sales clerk tells you to come back when your legs start hurting, resist the urge to walk outside, turn around, and walk back inside to tell her your legs never stop hurting. She won't think your chronic shin splints are as darkly funny as you do.
9. The treadmill won't actually kill you. It is pretty much designed not to. There are safety switches and everything.
10. Races are not for everyone. You might never run another race again. That is totally okay. You don't need to do that just because the running bloggers you like run them. Races are expensive, and they're only worth it if they motivate you.
11. Find out what DOES motivate you and do that thing. Maybe it's spending time reading running books or blogs. Maybe it's looking at cute fitness wear on Pinterest even though you will never shop at expensive luxury exercise clothing boutiques. Maybe you just have fun running with your dog. Do those things, even if you think you're "supposed" to be motivated by other things.

So there you go. Running lessons from someone who will never be an awesome runner and is okay with that. 

Current Laura

What I've Been Up To Lately

Reading. I've been working on a few books at once, including The Poet and the Vampyre. I wanted it to be something that it isn't, but it's still informative and makes me want a restraining order against several Romantics-poets even though they're dead. Especially Lord Byron. What a jerk. I'm also beta-reading my friend Lindsie's new book. It is amazing and you should be jealous. Also my friend Allison sent me this link which made me laugh my sides off, which is always a good thing.

From now on when someone says "corndog" I will think only of this.

Crying. I found a little lost dog last Wednesday night. The poor thing was hungry, frightened, and had fur loss either caused by anxiety or a skin condition. She was incredibly well-behaved, trained, and had such a sweet disposition I wanted to keep her forever, but Darcy is not cool with other dogs. She had tags from our vet, so we waited until the office opened and took her there, only to discover that the tag on her collar was actually for another dog. We had to take her from the vet to the shelter (which is no-kill), but it was completely heartbreaking. I spent lots of time sobbing after that. Mum called for an update on Friday, and she's eating well and getting medical care. We were both still all upset about it, though. We started feeling a bit better after we decided to go to the shelter a few times a week to play with her and help in any way we can.

We've named her Padfoot. If you're looking for a dog, she's your girl. She's a black dog, between 20-30 pounds, looks like a lab mix, and is better behaved than Darcy is--something I did not think possible. Call the Wabash County Animal Shelter and go say hello!

Cooking. I've stuck to my vow to have only vegetarian, clean-eating lunches from now on. This means I'm cooking at home a lot, not to mention spending about 30 minutes every night trying to figure out what I'm packing in my lunchbox for the next day. Thinking up lunches I won't hate has been hard. It's so much easier just to swing through a fast food place and get fries. We'll see how long this lasts, but as of now, I'm liking it. I spent yesterday making Minestrone soup. I froze a bunch and saved some for this week. I'm also eating a lot of hummus.

Running. It's been hideously hot outside, and I'll admit, I've not been very enthusiastic about exercise lately. That tends to happen when I get anxious. But I've been forcing myself to run a few times a week. For extra inspiration, I've subscribed to a running magazine so I can have a monthly reminder to tell me, "Yes, you do need to run now. Go outside, lady."

Marathoning. The X-Files (because new episodes are COMING, Father Brown (series one is cute, but someone give this show a bigger budget!), and now Partners in Crime (which is Agatha Christie's Tuppence and Tommy mysteries. I want to live on the gorgeous sets, especially T&T's house. Those windows).

Knitting. Lots of stuff. I can't show you because all the projects are SURPRISES. I did start a Harvest sweater because I have to have SOMETHING I can knit outside of my house. I want it to be biggish and cozy, so I'm thinking I'll size up a bit. I'm letting Rachael tell me what size that should be. Surprise, Rachael!

FOOD

Okay, here's what lunch on day two ended up being:

• Organic, preservative-free, happy macaroni and cheese. It's happy because it wasn't doused in chemicals before landing in my lunchbox.
• Baby carrots
• Hummus
• Yogurt

Sure, no meat, but did Laura bother to make the tzatziki sauce she was going to make last night? NO. Instead, I went for a run and when I came back, I was sweating so much that the sweat went into my eye. It was both gross and painful, and I thought no, I am taking a bath now, and then I watched The X-Files and knit. At about 9:30, I thought, "Someone should make me lunch." That someone was me, so I went and packed my lunchbox with as little care and attention as one could possibly give a packed lunch.

This is why I never stick to things: because they involve planning and careful execution and are OPTIONAL. I am, it turns out, rather lazy and not good at Adulting.

Will I make it a full week? Will I last longer than that? I'm taking bets.

Lunch Plans, Week One

So I went to the grocery store with no plan at all. I had no idea. I mean, I suck at making lunches. I usually make dinner, divide it into single servings, and bring the same lunch all week until my will to live is sapped and I am a broken shell of routine. Or, more often, fail to make any lunches at all, and end up eating many bowls of soup at Culver's.

As I have decided to change things, Mum and I went to the grocery store to pick out weekly lunch things yesterday after work. I really had no clue what I was doing. Here is what I ended up with:

• Cheese (cheddar, feta, Philadelphia cream, and pepper-jack.)
• Avocado
• Cauliflower (who knows why)
• Carrots (itsy bitsy ones)
• Herbs (sage, thyme, etc.)
• Berries, mixed
• Cantaloupe
• Hummus
• Tomato bisque
• Bread (sandwich and flat)
• Yogurt (plain and Pumpkin Noosa)

At home I had:

• Lettuce
• Tomatoes
• Cucumbers
• Onion
• Potato
• Peas
• A lot more stuff

And the meals I'm planning include:

• Deluxe grilled cheese sandwiches with cheddar, pepper-jack, tomato and an herb cream cheese spread with tomato bisque (this lunch is code-named Risky Bisqueness, because technically I shouldn't eat tomato at all. But it's yummy.)
• Flatbread sandwiches with hummus and mixed veggies or feta, mixed veggies and tzatziki sauce. You get the idea.
• Roasted cauliflower curry with potato, onion, and peas. I will make that up as I go along.
• Something with avocado when the avocado ripens. It needs a day or two.

That should cover meals until this weekend, when I will reassess. The plan will be to do all the prep work (cooking, shopping, and so forth) over the weekend for the following week. This will eat into my sitting and doing nothing time, but it will be better to do all of the prep at once so packing my lunch will be faster.

I'll be making vegetable stock over the weekend, then hopefully a couple different soups which I will freeze in single servings. I'll whip up a few sandwich ideas, or I'll prep some veggies to bring along with cheese, crackers, and olives or pickles to nibble on. We'll see. The goal is to have satisfying lunches that aren't just peanut butter and jelly sandwiches day after day, because I won't stick with that. I will quickly grow to resent it and then give up this whole exercise.

Wish me luck. I'm going to need it. I'll be happy if I just make it through this week and next week without crying with frustration, or sneaking out to eat something fried.

Clean Eating?

I have a food problem. The problem is that I love food so much, so so much, that my cravings are completely in charge. I eat based on whim. So I want to eat three blocks of delicious cheese? Okay. I will. Hungry for salt and vinegar kettle chips? Better try a dozen brands until you find the best out there. No worries. But that is...terrible for you. Majorly terrible.

To add to my problem, I eat when I'm anxious. If I'm eating, I'm concentrating on chewing and deliciousness, not on how I'm about to die because some unseen force is going to destroy me and everyone I love.* That's bad, because when I'm anxious, I go from eating small meals to eating constant meals. As in, I leave the dinner table and munch on chips. Or I come home from work and eat lots of cheese. Or I impulsively buy ice cream on the drive home from work because it will make me feel better. Or I buy a lemon meringue pie and then eat nearly all of it in 48 hours. (Thank goodness Mum wanted a few pieces over that time span, because it would have been ALL of the pie if she hadn't helped.)

As always, The Awkward Yeti understands my life.

But food can't make you feel better. In fact, it usually does the opposite for me. I eat too much junk, then I feel gross. Not guilty (I never feel guilty for eating, which is good I guess?), but sick because I can't digest the same way I used to now that my gallbladder is resting in that giant medical waste dump in the sky.

Here are the food observations I've had in the last month of high-anxiety:

1. If your life sucks before you eat a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips, it will still suck when the bag of chips is gone.
2. If you are anxious, you will probably stay that way until your brain decides to be your friend again. Food will not speed this process.
3. Cheese is really awesome.
4. Good cheese is expensive.
5. Expensive cheese is not an everyday sort of treat.
6. Stop spending $17.00 at the cheese store like it's normal, Laura.
7. No, really.

I need to make more healthy decisions. Since I suck at self-control, I've decided that these decisions need to happen at work, because there, food is a choice. At home, it's a slot machine. What is there to eat? Who knows. Stick a quarter in the machine (the fridge) and pull the handle to find out! It will be different than what was in there last time you you checked. If you close the refrigerator door and open it right away, it will be different again! Nothing in the fridge is ever the same. Do not trust the fridge. The fridge lies.

So I have decided to do healthy, meatless lunches beginning Monday. I will embrace clean eating at lunch, since breakfast is already good (usually natural peanut butter on whole grain bread). Then, I will be so in love with my new clean-eating lifestyle, it will become second nature and I will become repulsed by fast food. This is totally doable, coming from nowhere without a plan. I mean, I checked out two books from the library. That's all I need, right? If I even succeed in having half of my weekly lunches and dinners healthier, I'll consider it a victory.

I'm thinking I'll be eating a lot of dry lettuce while I figure this thing out.

Seriously, though. This might become something of a challenge for me. I hate beans, so I look at a website that announces yummy meatless meals and...they are all beans. Beans everywhere. What do vegetarians eat when they aren't eating things with beans in?

If you are a vegetarian, vegan, or make lots of meatless meals please give me recipe ideas that do not include beans, lentils, chickpeas, or other hated legumes, because that isn't happening. Also any food blog recommendations would be greatly appreciated.

* Yeah, really. That's anxiety.

When Did I Become This Person?

When I was in high school, you could not have paid me to do any sort of exercise. I dressed for gym only because I didn't want to get in any kind of trouble with my gym teachers, because they were physically fit and I was afraid of them.

In college, I put off any kind of gym class until the last possible moment, which was when I needed credits to fill out a semester. Stupid gym. I took yoga, because it involves breathing and being able to touch your toes, and I was good at both of those things at the time. Now I am only good at one of them.* Then I took karate because I wanted to not get murdered by someone who was out to steal my virtue, and I learned many many ways to kill people but no ways to incapacitate someone and flee.**

After college I stopped doing all sort of exercise at all, because not moving and instead watching season after season of TV series was way more fun. Also I started eating for entertainment because for some reason no one was giving me reading or other homework assignments anymore, which was a real drag. I miss homework. Why won't anyone ask me to write them an essay anymore? I miss essays.

I was diagnosed with asthma, which made the majority of my life make more sense, because breathing shouldn't be hard and it always was. This made me take medicine and also sit more. You don't have to overwork your lungs if you sit. Your lungs can take a break when sitting happens.

But then Erin had to peer-pressure me into starting The 30 Day Shred, and after that, I felt like I was cheating if I wasn't exercising. So now I have become the sort of person who does different things.

• I have two special pairs of shoes and a whole other wardrobe dedicated solely to fitness activities.

• When I go to Old Navy, it is to see what fun exercise clothes they have on sale. The 40% off sale thing they do is like CHRISTMAS.
• At T.J. Maxx, I look at the home stuff, the shoes, and the fitness clothes. Sometimes I venture into the other areas. But mostly not.
• I run three times a week, but I wish I could run every day. That is because I harbor the belief that running will at some point get easier. This is a lie, as illustrated here.
• Every step I take, every move I make, this happens:

• That torture was not enough, so I started using all the weight machines at the gym, too.
• That was also not enough, so I started this 30 Days of Yoga video series.
• Today I ran two miles, then did 40 minutes of yoga because the one 20 minute video was also not enough.
• I am looking forward to my allergies getting less hideous, because then I will do all of this fitness stuff outside instead of inside.
• I am now willing to go outside.
• Although it is spring now, and so my eyes have no moisture at all, and I am using eye drops just to blink.
• There are not enough eye drops in the world.
• I still took a walk outdoors today with Darcy.
• I am in bed eating apricot-raspberry thumbprint cookies right now. This is a healthy choice.

My aunt called on the phone today and asked how I was enjoying my day. Basically I told her that I ran and then did yoga, and basically she was horrified. Then I realized in shock that when I started exercising a few years ago, it basically changed everything about how I define "fun" and "health" and what amount of sweat I consider socially acceptable while in the presence of others.

I'm going to put in some more eye drops now.

* Asthma. Because asthma.

** My teacher only taught us kill moves. He was a very small, very angry man who thought that if you got into a fight, you had to be willing to END the fight. With terminal intensity.***

*** That is an X-Files reference, and if you don't know it, it means you haven't watched season two of the X-Files, and you need to fix that now. Seriously. Watch the X-Files.

Old Laura Is Old

A few weeks ago, I noticed something terrifying, and that was a missing cover for my favorite earbuds. I found this out at the gym, to my horror. I would be unable to listen to anything while I ran! I would be forced to stare at the muted televisions, all set to Fox News. 

Even worse--not really broken, but the left earbud would not stay in my ear. TRAGEDY.

Let me explain. This is not your normal foam or rubber cushion, but something much nicer. It is so fancy, it has a fancy name: ENHANCER. Because it magically enhances your listening experience. If it were just a cushion, I could have swiped one from another pair of earbuds I have languishing in a drawer somewhere, but no. These are SPECIAL.

I looked everywhere, finally realizing it was really and truly gone from my life. So I contacted the company.

Dear Earbud Designer, 

Please help. I am without an enhancer. I need it to listen to The Raven Cycle books by Maggie Stiefvater when I run, or walk, or ride my bicycle. I just got my silver repeat listener badge from Audible because I've listened to the whole series ten times all the way through. Basically I need it to survive. Can I order a replacement?  

Love, 

Laura

I got a reply quickly, with a link to a place where I could buy replacement enhancers. This was the best day ever. I instantly went on to order a new set of enhancers. I'd almost talked myself into ordering two sets, just in case.

I made this because Maggie Stiefvater.

That was when something happened to me that has never happened before.

I could not work the website.

I work on websites all day. Different ones. One I even add content to! One I EDIT. You'd think I could click "add to cart" and it would work! But no. It would add nothing to my cart. All I could make that webpage do was refresh, again and again. "Size four" I would select. "Add to cart," and then BAM, the page would refresh, losing my selected size and color of enhancer.

In desperation, I contacted the company again.

Dear Earbud Designer, 

Please help me because I am stupid. I cannot make your website work, because I am an idiot. I just keep refreshing the page. Can you please help me give you money?  

Love, 

Laura

I got a reply back the next day.

Dear Laura, 

We would be happy to send you a complimentary pair of enhancers. Please provide an address for shipping purposes. 

Thank you, 

Earbud Customer Support.

Now, this was the sweetest thing ever. But I could not help but put myself into the position of the customer support people, and this is what I think they think about me:

Laura is a 60-something semi-retired school lunch lady. She learned how to use a computer so that she can see pictures of her grandbabies (her term for grandchildren). She has a Facebook account and posts only in all caps. She uses e-mail to sign up for free coupon services and sign petitions about Social Security. She likes to spend Saturdays power-walking around her neighborhood with her elderly cat. She keeps the cat in a backpack with its little legs sticking out of holes in the sides, because it gets tired easily. She watched that clip of Obama and his anger translator, but she didn't laugh.

I was horrified.

When did I become so OLD, so INCAPABLE, that I could not work a simple webpage? I mean, I order stuff online all the time, it is part of my JOB, and I can't order enhancers? And instead of teaching me, the earbud people are sending me free stuff because they feel sorry for me?

For a moment, I thought about going on the website again and trying to figure it out. I mean, someone must be able to use it, right? I thought about e-mailing the nice customer service person and telling them no, really, I want to give you MONEY. Please let me pay you money. But I didn't. Because I need those enhancers, and I really can't figure out how to buy them.

Maybe I am that 60-something lady. Maybe that's me, now.

I quietly typed out a response to the last e-mail.

Dear Customer Support,

Here is my home address. Thank you very much for your help. 

Laura

Slosh

Instead of walking, I am sloshing. It is very uncomfortable. Is it possible for a human to drown by drinking too much water? What qualifies as "too much," exactly?

I thought it would be a good idea to actually be hydrated. Hydration is good for you. The government says so, plus all sorts of fitness experts. Healthy people drink water. I drink...not enough water. Maybe like two glasses a day, plus milk, tea, and non-water liquids. This is not as good for me as drinking all of the water would be.

So I started using a planner. It's cute, right?

Using a planner gives you a blanket excuse to buy large quantities of Korean stationary and pens.

I thought, "They make stickers for water consumption! I should use something like this, to keep myself accountable! It will fix my sinuses. It will fix my LIFE."

I downloaded some printable stickers, printed them on regular paper, and used a glue stick. I can't find sticker paper. I think all these pretty planner-keeping people are making sticker paper up. It doesn't exist. It's code for, "We know how to make our planners pretty, and you are new to this. Let us haze you with fake sticker paper."

So far today I have gone to the bathroom more times than I usually go in one day. Is water supposed to do that? I would die if I were a teacher. I would suffer duel kidney explosion, and my students would stand over my dead body and drop spit wads into my open mouth as they waited for the principal to notice that I was a corpse instead of a responsible adult.

I stuck the fake-stickers into my planner for every week until after New Year's Day. That is many weeks. That is over half a year. I will not run out of water log "stickers" and then give up drinking water. Plus the little not-quite-stickers-but-also-not-bookmarks will stare at me from each week's planner page, telling me quietly, "You suck for not drinking water...this is why you get headaches and also why you are less pretty than you could be, if you drank water. Water drinking people are pretty people, without that fancy cream you bought. THEY don't have chronically dry skin. Their skin is made of velvet and the hopes and dreams of puppies and also angel kisses."

Those are some judgey water log faux-sticker-things.

The stuck-on-paper-bits say I should drink eight glasses of water each day. The Mayo Clinic says I should drink about "2.2 liters of beverages" per day. They count other sorts of beverages, including soda. They say it's not AS good as water, but as long as you don't feel thirsty, you're okay. The eight eight ounce glasses thing maths out to 1.8 liters. The Mayo Clinic says that's fine, so I'm sticking with that, since it's easy to work out. This means I need to drink three refills of my water bottle per day, total. That much water seems unimaginable at this point.

Why worry about doing this if even the Mayo Clinc isn't stressing? Because I want to stop drinking so many calories, that's why.

Being healthy is stupid. All it does is make me have to go to the bathroom.

Rant from the Gym

Okay, I left the gym before typing this up, but the rant began at the gym and has grown and developed into what follows.

People come in to the library in their pajamas. They wear pajamas to the grocery store, college classes, to McDonald's, basically everywhere. This aggravates me, because if I bother to put on real pants and brush my hair before leaving the house, other people should have to do the same. But you all know this, you've seen it yourselves. You may not even care about it. And you are entitled to that opinion even if I think you're insane.

But here's the thing. I'm going to the gym now, and people walk in, get on the machines, and start working out...but they aren't in gym clothes. They aren't even in pajamas. They are dressed in jeans, boots, sweaters, flannel shirts...two women last night were wearing eyeliner and probably a tub of bronzer each. Then a man walked in and I swear he had just left the fields, because his boots were so caked with what I hope was mud that he left chunks of it behind on the elliptical machine.

I also think people have so much trouble switching from their pajamas to real clothes that they have decided that wearing leggings as pants is okay just so they can pretend that they didn't have to change in the first place. But if people love wearing them so much, why are these few people wearing jeans and fancy work shoes to the gym? It can't be comfortable. There has to be...chafing. In PLACES. But I understand not having an extra set of clothes, or thinking if you're just walking on the treadmill for fifteen minutes, it's not necessary to change. Because really, it isn't that important. Weird, but not important.

But the muddy boots. What is up with the muddy (we hope) boots? Why is the staff of the gym not saying, "Dude, you need to wear clean footwear if you're using the equipment?"

How hard is it to bring a pair of shoes not caked in filth to the gym with you? HOW HARD IS IT?

And who walks out of the field, looks down at their legs, ankle-deep in mud, and says, "You know, I could totally wear these to the gym. No one will care, right?"

WHO?

They even make the children in gym class switch to inside gym shoes. Do they not remember the special gym shoes from elementary, middle, AND high school? Does it not occur to them that making someone spend their night chipping mud off the elliptical machine is not courteous? And if your shoes are caked in mud and you still want to work out in them, and in the clothes you wore in the fields, why didn't you just stay in the fields to work out? Run with the cows. Cows like running with people. Cows used to run in the field along with me while I ran on the road. They did it all summer. They like it. It's herd behavior.

Is this a rural Indiana thing, or are people doing this everywhere? This worries me.

Leave the filthy boots at home. Let's keep it classy, Indiana.

General Updates! Which Are Exciting! Because Reasons!

Hey, I forgot that I didn't have a post scheduled for Friday, because I'm a responsible adult who keeps track of things. Heh.

Here are your weekly updates from the world of Laura.

The ukulele is just as easy to learn as the internet says it is. Also it is fun. Also my fingertips are swollen, red, and slightly numb.

It is possible that The Brother and I have found a gym we can join that is moderately affordable (if we share the cost and do a family membership with Dad.) I've had to take some time off due to the cold and due to my lungs shriveling up with exposure to cold air, causing near-death. I have very wisely filled this free time by eating to combat boredom. The Brother has been working out with Dad, and when I got a bit of extra free time, I joined them. I like this gym. It is a good gym. This is especially fortuitous because I took one look at this picture and decided I needed more exercise, even though the problem is mostly caused by me deciding to sit in an incredibly unflattering way on the edge of a chair. Since this is how I nearly-always sit, fitness must happen.

Since this picture was taken, I went back to said gym and did a 5K on the elliptical machine and a 10K on the stationary bicycle. Also I listened to a beautiful hour of The Dream Thieves on audiobook, which I highly recommend.

I have found a blogger I enjoy very much, and you should read her stuff. Her name is Kate Brannen, and she is hilarious. 

You should all read Gloria O'Brien's History of the Future by A.S. King; it is brilliant (just like A.S. King is).

October Goals

September was a crazy month. I had lots to do at work, Banned Book Week included, many things happening at home, Dad flying back and forth from Colorado, Window Guy coming and measuring and remeasuring, my grandmother's memorial service, and lots of travel. All of that meant that much of my normal schedule went out the window.

This is totally unrelated to the post, but it sums up my life accurately. I like it. So there.

Keeping that in mind, I have come up with a few achievable goals to help me make it through October in a more healthy way, both mentally and physically.

1. Keep to an exercise schedule. With shorter days comes less time for me to fit in an outdoor workout. This means I have to make time right when I get home for running, or find another activity that I can do indoors to keep myself moving. Anyone have any favorite indoor exercises I can give a try? 
2. Declutter. Everything in my world has piled up, from knitting patterns to notes to junk mail to books I don't have time to read. This month I plan to sort, file, pitch, or donate all the things I have no space for in my house or in my life.
3. Read. I haven't had much time just to sit down and read. I miss reading. I've only been enjoying books in audio or at lunchtime, and I miss coming home and sitting down with a book. Books are awesome. Books are our friends.
4. Start Christmas and baby knitting. People keep having kids. This is awesome, but my baby knitting stash has dwindled. It's time to whip up a few adorable little sweaters to keep on hand for baby showers or little surprises. Also, I need to start work on Christmas knits. Which means I need to PLAN Christmas knits. Or I could just work on a hat with this and some Halloween socks.*
5. Get that little knob in my car that directs where the air conditioning/heat comes out FIXED. This stupid thing has kept me from being cool all summer. I waited patiently for everyone else in my family to fix THEIR cars, but I don't want it to make me shiver and freeze all winter. It's my own stupid fault it's broken, too. It was stuck, and instead of waiting patiently for someone to look at it, I forced it. Because I am an idiot.

Those are reasonable goals, right? What are your October plans?

* This sock yarn is sold out, but I have it on good authority that more is coming, so check back if you like it!

Humidity and Misery: A Monday Runday Update

It is too flipping humid to run.

I have this genius plan, and it is to run a second 5K and not die this time. I want to do that on September 6th, but I cannot run in this humidity. It's not because it's too hot. It's because I cannot breathe in the humidity. My lungs give up.

It doesn't help that these are ozone awfulness days. Those are days when weather people send out little text alerts to those of us with allergies saying, "stay inside your house or you will die!"

The humidity, you see, keeps nasty things in the air and makes them breathable. So, the hideous diesel emissions that usually float up into the atmosphere and destroy the ozone stay close to the ground so we can suck them into our lungs and the toxins can poison our bodies. The same is true with smoke from burned leaves and yard waste, dust from roads with fresh gravel, pollen, cigarette smoke, mold spores, AXE body spray, and all the other toxins that slowly kill allergy sufferers.

I waited to run until Sunday trying to avoid the humidity. But it was just as miserable as Friday and Saturday were.

I do have a pretty place to run, though. It could be worse.

It's nice, right?

It still crushed me, though. I was destroyed.

My face only got redder after I started running. It was lobster red. I only managed to make it a few miles before calling it quits. I just couldn't take it. Now I am home, drinking lots of water and hoping the weather breaks before my next run.

I need a treadmill or something. But hey, if I had a treadmill, you guys wouldn't get to see me all sweaty and miserable. I hope you know how lucky you are that I chose to capture this misery on film. Not everyone would do that for you.

Commencement

As of this Thursday, I "graduated" from the Couch to 5K program. I did not get a robe or a funny hat. There was no party. I celebrated by taking a bath because running that long makes you sweaty.

I also did not get to make a commencement speech, because there was no ceremony. That would have been awesome, though. I mean, I have some material for a speech about overcoming adversity and also running. I have some good stuff for that sort of speech.

Instead, I have compiled a list of stuff about running I have discovered. Because reasons.

1. It does not get easier. The app progressed, but I was always just as destroyed at the end. I was sweaty, I felt as though I was going to die, and did I actually die? I can't tell. I'm pretty sure I did, at least for a minute there.
2. It gets easier. (See what I did there?) Today I ran with Dad, because he cannot bear to have me out there running without joining in, no matter how painful it is for him. For the record, he ran in a pair of sandals, jeans, and a t-shirt. I did not follow any app, but watched Dad as we ran took walking breaks when I thought he needed it. The resulting walk/run ratio was similar to the beginning of Couch to 5K, only without a lady talking from my iPhone. It was not even slightly strenuous to me. So yeah, maybe it does get better. You just don't notice it until you go on a run with your almost-60-year-old father.
3. It makes you tired. This is an understatement. I have never been so tired in my life, except maybe for when I was a kid and Dad took us to the mountains and we climbed up and up and up thinking we were on a circular trail, only to discover, many hours later, that the trail was not a circle at all and that we had to turn around and walk the whole way back. On the way down, there were poisonous snakes. 
4. It works more than just your legs. Running uses your whole body, and, as a result, you will feel it everywhere the next morning when you try to get out of bed.
5. Cotton is the enemy. When you sweat, cotton clothes stick to you. This is unpleasant.
6. Shorts are the enemy. Heh. If you are like me, and your inner thighs touch and rub together when you walk, slowly wearing out every pair of jeans you own in an indelicate area, you probably should wear running tights, capris, or spandex instead of those adorable Nike shorts that come in all the pretty colors. Give up on your dignity and buy the skin-tight pants.
7. It is possible to run in glasses. I always thought that would be a problem, and it is a bit annoying when you get very sweaty. However, for the most part, you can run in glasses without any difficulty. If it really is awful for you, guess what? There is a special company that makes very sporty looking prescription sunglasses for runners and other athletes. I'm not springing for them, but there you go.
8. You will want to convert everyone you know to the glory of Couch to 5K, because it seems so miraculous that you, who never once passed a presidential physical fitness exam, could ever have done it. And if you could manage it, so can everyone else!
9. It does things to your body's rhythms. Meaning you can schedule bathroom stops. That's all I'm going to say.
10. You start to LIKE running. This is maybe not true while you're actually in the process of running, but after, when you realize how far you ran, how good it feels to have successfully run anywhere at all, you feel like maybe you don't suck. It's a good feeling.

Bonus: I still am not Portuguese. In case you were wondering.

All that being said, I still feel like other runners are judging me and finding me lacking every time I see one on the trail or walk into the running store. I keep telling myself that they're probably as focused on keeping their hearts from exploding as I am while running, but still. That feeling probably won't ever go away.

A Story About a Wasp

My app now has me running over 20 minutes without stopping.

I cannot run 20 minutes without stopping. I keep trying. I can make it 11 minutes. Sometimes I can make it 13 minutes. But I cannot run 20 minutes. Or 25, like I was supposed to run today.

It ended up working out just fine, because this morning I took Darcy with me, and she was not at all interested in running. She wanted to sit on the ground and watch me run, resulting in my running away from her. Then I had to stop and coax her to join me. And I'd run again, and we would repeat the process. Darcy is not used to going out and running at 8:00 AM. She is used to walking around with Mum and being able to sniff everything. It is a leisure walk. More of a stroll than anything.

Poor Darcy. It was even misting, meaning she was getting wet, and she hates being wet.

By the time I was halfway done, I was exhausted, but Darcy was so happy to be going home that she finally decided to run without any begging or pleading. She used her Shetland Sheepdog herding skills to get me home. It was probably good that she did, as I was dying by then.

It's a good thing that I'm about two weeks ahead of where I SHOULD be. That makes it okay that I'm not running 20 straight minutes. But I can't help but worry that I WON'T do any better, and that on race day I'll be gasping my way along, then stopping to walk for the second half. It would be just like the president's physical fitness tests we used to have to take in gym class, only with me all grown up and with more asthma. There will be just as many people staring at me, so I'll get that added humiliation and possible flashbacks.

The last time I ran a mile with people watching, I had been stretching in gym and had no idea I would soon be subject to such torment. I felt a slight tickle on my arm and, thinking it was a strand of my own hair, I brushed it away. Except it was not a hair, it was a wasp.

The wasp, believing I was about to murder it, stung me as my hand approached. When I touched the wasp half a second later (discovering as I did so that the stabby thing was a giant angry wasp), it became lodged in my arm like an insectoid hypodermic needle.

Did I mention it was in the crook of my elbow, right where they always draw blood at the doctor's office? It was there.

One of my fellow students had to remove the wasp for me, as it was stuck and its attempts to walk away or fly were resulting in nothing. Meanwhile, it was still mid-sting, with more and more wasp venom entering what could only have been my veins, since all my blood vessels are right at the surface and easily accessible to wasps and medical staff alike.

The wasp, once freed, flew away. It was probably out of venom by then. It did not come back, meaning it was probably as traumatized as I was after the whole experience.

My arm began to blow up like a balloon.

As I wondered if this counted as an excuse to go to the nurse's office, our teacher led us out of the gym for...the track. Yes, we were running a mile that day. For the stupid fitness test they made us do every year. Spoiler alert: None of us were ever fit.

I asked the teacher if I could go to the nurse's office. He said no. So as I walked out of the building toward the track, I noticed a room I'd never seen before. It was unmarked, and it contained a washing machine, a dryer, and a big ice machine like they have at hotels. This was the best thing I'd ever seen up to that point.

I ducked into the room, grabbed a paper towel from the holder above the ice chest, wrapped a handful of ice up in the paper towling, and went back to join my class.

holding the ice to my arm, I stepped into the hallway again, only to be turned on by the teacher at once. "WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN THE BOY'S VARSITY LOCKER ROOM?!" He bellowed.

"That's the boy's locker room?" I asked. "I was getting ice!"

"Oh." He replied, mollified. "Come on then."

And then I ran a mile while I felt progressively sicker. My forearm was the size of my thigh by the time I was finished. I ran the whole mile clutching the rapidly-melting ice to the spot where I'd been stung.

When I finished (I think at 12-14 minutes), I walked over to where the class was waiting for me and the other two asthmatic runners. I may not have known I had asthma then, but my pace matched the other asthmatics. Tell me that's not a clue.

The teacher wrote down my time and then noticed my arm, which, I reiterate, was THE SIZE OF MY THIGH.

"What is wrong with your arm?" My teacher asked.

"A wasp got stuck in it. It was in there for two minutes or so. And now I have a balloon arm. It feels like fire and my heartbeat."

I was sent to the nurse's office at once. Only, the nurse had already left for the day, as she was only in the school until noon or so. She had also left the elementary school and gone home. She was really, really gone. The secretary, who was also my drama coach, was freaked. But the buses were also leaving, so I was given more ice and strict instructions to make a baking soda poultice of some kind to pack over the sting-mark.

And then I went home. That was the last official mile-time I have on record.

Who had this great idea to sign up for a 5K anyway? Was it me? I don't think I would have done anything that foolish.

Moral support would be greatly appreciated. Either that or chocolate. Or maybe mozzarella sticks. Also wasp repellent, if you have any.

Misery

Jennifer and I went for our run after I finished at the library for the day. This run quite nearly killed me. I was dying, and I had run that distance before. I had run for MORE TIME than the app was asking me to run, and I had done all of it much happier than I did today.

I felt as though I was being murdered.

Jennifer could have left me in the dust, despite the fact that she only runs with me and this is our third run. It is my 18th. Jennifer claims this toughness was brought to her by 5 Hour Energy Drink, but I think it's because she is just plain better at doing all of the things than I am.

What did it was the heat and humidity. I am notorious in my family for being unable to handle drastic changes in temperature. And Indiana has gone from being in the low 60s to the high 80s in less than a week. It's shocking we haven't had terrifying weather. All we had was a thunderstorm and flash flooding. That's nothing. We can handle that. That's like a light breeze is for other places.

Also, someone almost destroyed my car by speeding down a hill on a one-lane road as I went under the one-lane bridge. I was DEEPLY ANGRY. Nobody messes with Francis Focus. He is a happy car and doesn't need his nose bashed in.

I arrived home and cleaned up, ate applesauce for dinner, and haven't moved since. Well, I did play with Darcy. But who could say no to this face?

Heat, Humidity, and Couch to 5K

Right now it is 80 degrees.

At 5:00, it will be 82 degrees.

Right now the humidity is at 68%.

At 5:00, it will drop to a low low 59%.

Jennifer and I are running at 5:00. At 5:00 it will be 82 degrees and the humidity will be 59%. I'm repeating that so that it will really sink in and you'll understand just how horrible that's going to be.

If you don't hear from us, it's because the heat and humidity killed us. We dropped dead in the park. Sorry.

Meanwhile, as I was looking for the heat and humidity e-card because I need illustrations to make my life funnier, I found this, which made me think of You-Are-Portuguese Guy, because I was running by with earbuds and he still thought telling me I have Portuguese eyebrows was a good idea.

And this will be Jennifer and I after our run this afternoon. I mean, we won't become a cardboard sign, but we will agree with the content of the sign. You understand.

And then I saw this and started laughing so hard, library patrons began staring at me, because while I have yet to see anyone attractive during a run (usually I see squirrels), I can pretty much guarantee if I do, I will run away as quickly as possible. I mean, if I run away in the grocery store when I am walking through the produce section with a cart, why would my behavior change if I am already running?

Now, maybe by "pick up the pace" they mean run faster to impress the attractive person, but I am too awkward to think of it that way. In my world, the bottom of the picture just says "Flee."

In Which I Excel at Avoidance

Today I went for a run at Murder Trail, and I saw a familiar truck at the trailhead.

The truck belongs to Mr. You-Are-Portuguese, and I spent the remainder of the run watching for people on the trail that looked 1. Male and 2. 60-ish. Younger males, females, families, bicyclists, runners, and other people who did not match Mr. You-Are-Portuguese's build were ignored and passed on the trail as per usual.

I did actually see him, but I was prepared. I turned around and ran in the opposite direction, then went back and forth between the trailhead and Mum and Darcy. No one has time to put up with that guy, especially not when the humidity is as high as it was today and when tiny gnats are hovering in clouds at eye-level everywhere.

I ate a gnat. It was not on purpose.

Photographic evidence of Mr. You-Are-Portuguese's truck, so you guys don't think I'm making this up. I wish I were making this up:

Fancy New Trail Running Shoes

At some point last week, as I was bending and flexing my Nike Free Runs and listening to the chunks of gravel falling out of the little square treads, I knew I had a choice to make. It was a choice between inconvenience and expense, and if you know me at all, you know I chose to spend the money.

See, the gravel road by my house is so blasted convenient. When I'm not running with Jennifer, I can run on Meth Alley and no one drives by, ever. It is quiet. Sometimes there are deer. It's nice there. Aside from the meth, but that happened late at night last summer, and now the police drive through that area so often, I think Meth Alley is going to get its name changed to "Formerly Meth Alley." The only problem with (Formerly) Meth Alley is the gravel. My shoes are minimalist. That means less cushioning between me and the road, less chunks of rubber and foam keeping me from feeling what I'm running on, less chances for me to trip over giant objects because my brain accounts for my feet, not my feet AND shoes. But the gravel sticks in the awesome tread on my shoes, meaning I am essentially running ON rocks. The rocks become a part of my shoe and I carry those rocks with me until I get home, which is when I spend a good amount of time removing all the gravel and using it to replenish the driveway.

I could choose not to ever run on Meth Alley again, despite the convenience, the pretty scenery, and the lack of scary trucks careening past me at 65mph. OR, I could choose to buy trail running shoes.

I have tried driving out to Murder Trail. It sucks. The drive is 30 minutes both ways, and if I run for 30 minutes, that's an hour and a half out of my day that I could be spending doing something else, like sleeping. Plus, that's gas I could use to, I don't know, visit someplace cool someday.

All this led to the running store and my new fancy shoes. They are made just for trail running, and nothing can get caught in the treads. I know. I did a second run today, after the morning one, just to test them out on Meth Alley, and not a stone got stuck in my shoes and I never slipped on the gravel once.

This is a vast improvement.

Please ignore my ghostly pale skin.

Plus, they are red, which makes me feel faster. Don't they make you think, "The girl wearing these is super-speedy?" Well you're wrong. I'm the slowest runner around. But I try.

The lady at Three Rivers Running Company was incredibly nice. I walked in and sounded way more knowledgeable than I really am. I told her I wanted trail running shoes that were lightweight and airy. She pulled out four pairs for me to try on, with varying degrees of stability. I'm supposed to wear a stabilizing shoe, but I find that type of shoe leads me to fall on my face, so we found one with the lowest amount of correction, enough to help me out but not enough to make me trip.

These are by Montrail and are named "Bajada." I should look that word up but I probably never will. Bonus points for the person who does. They are slightly narrow, which is perfect for my feet, and when I saw the color I thought, "This is so weird that it's COOL." They come in other colors for the less awesome people who choose not to wear shoes that blind other runners.

My skin actually glows in direct sunlight,
like in Twilight only with less bloodsucking.

They really are great to run in, and I'm looking forward to my next opportunity to run in them, which won't be tomorrow because I'm working and then going straight to Indy for a play. But Sunday, hopefully, I will get to go play run.