Note to self

I woke up this morning and thought that's it, I'm deleting my blog. It's stupid. All I ever do is whine about how I'm sick again and it's going to ruin my next marathon. As if any of that is so important. No-one cares about your lame Very Slow Marathons except you. And another thing: it's pathetic to bleat in public.
But then I thought, hang on, it was the putting into words of my panic-stricken mental hyperventilation yesterday that made it all all right again. Writing down a sooky-la-la brain-splat gives it form, and allows me to roll with it instead of wearing myself out trying to avoid it. Once my fear is out in the light I can see it and start to deal with it.
In the case of TBLRCU, I fear
1. a suffer-fest. This was going to happen anyway. Weigh 80+kg, cover 42.2km in five or six or seven hours - it's a long way and a long time and it's going to hurt. I know this, and I know how to do it and end up in one piece as well.
2. not finishing - very unlikely. I finished Gold Coast last year. I was sicker than I am now (six weeks out) on race day, had a more interrupted preparation, and I weighed the same.
3. not finishing under the cutoff (= NO BLING NOOOOOOOO!!!). See above.
So that's sorted. VSM#5 will be slow waves a regretful goodbye to short-lived dreams of sub-six and hard work. But that's ok.
Now, what of my blog? I've been thinking about this all day. Unlike the writings of the gorgeous Shauna, Phil and Lisa (among many others whose blogs I have the privilege to read) my little corner of cyberspace isn't especially uplifting or positive. But when I think about it, it isn't meant to be! One of my favourite things about my blog is the friends I have met through it - and, attention-seeker that I am, I do worry that people will wander off never to return if I am particularly lame for any length of time - but I also like it because it's a place where I can be (fairly) authentic. I bleat and whinge here, and grizzle and give up and start again and get excited and celebrate and nut out conundrums I've been banging my head on, just the same as in my non-virtual existence. Ask anyone.
So in conclusion....
I don't think I have a conclusion. If The Cough buggers off between now and 09/10/11 (cool date eh?) I'll be starting VSM#5 and hoping to finish. Sometimes my blog is Sooky McWhinge-ville and sometimes it isn't. That is all.More anon, polar explorers!

The dummy is in midair

I am resting this weekend because of the disturbing Return of The Cough, because I fear the consequences of Defying the Lurgi, and because I am a grown up athlete now who knows it is better to be consistent than heroic. I recognise that the likely repercussions of overdoing it with a clogged up chest are far worse than those of underdoing it.
On the inside I am beating my fists on the ground and howling my eyes out. This was going to be The One where it all went as planned. I don't know why I thought that. I must have been mad. But I did. I don't want another under-prepared suffer-fest. I want to be confident that I have the kms on my legs to hold a steady pace for six hours. I don't want to have to even consider pulling out THERE I SAID IT waaaaaaaahhhhhh!!! or to work out when I'll need to make that decision, given that VSM#5 involves leave from work, complicated childcare arrangements, transport and accommodation. AND I WANT MY MM BLING. Waaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!! THIS IS NOT FAIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!*.

*LBTEPA's media representative would like to assure her five faithful readers that the above is a quite deliberate and extremely temporary wallow in the self-pity pool. Normal H-ingTFU will resume shortly.

UPDATE: I just remembered that while The Cough was deceitfully pretending to have buggered off altogether, I ordered a race singlet. Now I have to do it. I'm not wasting a perfectly good singlet. Ok. Just need a moment to get my head around that.

These things happen

Oh my, that run was a shocker. I slept poorly, woke up 45 minutes before the alarm (so wrong) and then spent an hour arguing with myself about whether it was too cold (yes) whether I was too tired (yes) and whether I would have a chance to run in the evening (alas, no). I stumbled out the door and set off on legs that had clearly been swapped with those of a three toed sloth. It was a beautiful early spring morning but all that clear pastel beauty was lost on me when it took me a km to pass a(n admittedly very sprightly) walker. I was oblivious to the delicate tracery of the trees by the river as an older couple out running floated by me like I was standing still. At various times I hated the morning, everyone else out there, myself, and especially my stupid, stupid hobby. The only way I got up the (ahem) "hill" 1.5 km from home without walking was to promise myself that after Goofy I am never ever running another step in my whole life.
When I got home I realised I'd put my shorts on backwards. Suddenly it all made sense.

Big mouth

Why did I say I want to go sub-six? Why why why? Now I am risking disappointment! That's intolerable!! What if I do all the training and lose a bit of weight and Stick to the Plan on race day and still don't manage it? What then?
Well, to quote the mighty GeekGrl, no-one will take my birthday away. And I will get bling - I rang the organisers and checked there would be enough medals this year before I paid.
Having a time goal requires an unfamiliar set of behaviours and fear of failure is an uncomfortable feeling, but we here at the LBTEPA Institute for the Stoically Cheerful(With Occasional Freakouts)are nothing if not masters of Sucking It Up. So there you go.
I have a short bike session on The Schedule tonight, and 24 slow, careful kms along the rail trail tomorrow. Then the Spousal Unit and I are off for the weekend to celebrate 13 years since the Universe threw us together and life got good again. Thanks, random chance - it's been grouse! More anon, daydream believers!

This could get quite dull

Ok *rubs hands together in jolly, enthusiastic way*
My chest is clear. It's 52 days until that That Big Long Run Coming Up. It's time to get on with it, smarten up, knuckle down, nose to the grindstone etc etc.
By "on with it" (etc etc), I mean " get to the start of TBLRCU, and then to the finish in time to get some bling". This, in turn, means "uninjured, and with as consistent a base as possible". I haven't actually been mucking around to date, but I've been able to be a little bit casual with my training in my previous marathons I still can't actually believe I've done so many. Beware, you novices! They creep up on you..... This time it's different. In order to have as possible to the VSM#5 that I want, I need to Pay Attention To The Details (ewwwww....)
I want to go sub-6 on interrupted training - there, I SAID IT, I WANT ANOTHER SUB-6 - so I need to hit my target of 5-6 workouts a week. It would be helpful to be lighter, so I need to eat and drink less. An aside: there will be no calorie restrictions - just a lot more thought and a lot less mindless stuffing of the face. The "A few mouthfuls less" method has resulted in my dropping 3.5kg over the last couple of months, so I'll stick with it for now.
It. Is. On.
But what does it all mean, you ask? (as well you might).
It means all marathon all the time at Chateau LBTEPA. It means details of the workouts I tick off on the the schedule, and lame excuses when I don't. It means bleating. It means posting my weight on the interweb (ewwwwwwww....)
Oh my, LBTEPA - that sounds, great, but scary! How can we help?
Oh you are so sweet! Thanks! (It's fun inside my imagination....)
It would be really helpful if you could
- cheer me on
- reassure me
- give me reality checks at appropriate times
- send cases of HTFU as required
Mind you, you also have the option of fleeing, never to return. This could get quite dull. You have been warned.
More anon, champions!

Stuff I know

- days do come around when it is functional and appropriate to nibble a cherry ripe at work, join the family at the pub for a steak and follow it up with a couple of wines at home while yacking on Sk&pe with a wounded Comrade in Stupid Determination. Hi Emma! During this conversation it was brought to our attention that Team SD could be one down for That Big Long Run Coming Up (TBLRCU). LBTEPA's press secretary has issued a statement expressing the strongest possible sentiments of dismay and disapproval at this prospect. So could you all please ping some HTFU over to the uncooperative nerve in Emma's lower back ASAP?
- I also do know that eating like that on top of a bellyful of emotions makes for a very bad night's sleep. I just forget.
- I have many negative thoughts about myself, the same as anyone else. They're a pain. But you know what? Nobody makes me have them - not even me. They're just there. Sometimes I have to wade through them; sometimes I stumble over them. More often these days, I just notice them, wave and say hi there's always room for politeness and keep moving
- nobody cares what I look like or how slowly I'm going when I'm running except me (see above).
- I'm off on a top secret experimental mission shortly. Aim: to establish what kind of day I'll have on TBLRCU. Hypothesis: I can do 20km without coughing. I'll keep you posted.
TELL NO-ONE, and wish me luck
More anon, super-spies!

UPDATE: MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

little by little

Note to self: when tempted to FREAK OUT, wallow, panic or sulk about the Disaster that is VSM#5 training, please read the following and HTFU.
4 days ago - extremely crook, started on good drugs.
2 days ago - dragged myself through 2 days of work, constant foul cough from 5pm, no energy at all.
Yesterday - had a good catch up (conversation without needing to sit down = big progress) with fellow endurance-sport bores at the tri club season launch. Walked the full entire whole 4.5km home from town whoopee f%^*ing do, eh? Intermittent hacking cough*.
Today - able to sing a bit at church. Carried wood and split kindling. Occasional cough.
During the two weeks aarrgghh I've not been able to run I've been doing a lot of visualisation using my mantra I run tall, I run loose, I run straight, I run strong. My legs feel pretty strong, but I dare say the truth of that will come out when I actually hit the road. I haven't gained any weight, mostly by dint of sort-of firmly resisting the self-pity chardy. No! gasp my five faithful readers (as well you might, after all the faffing around you have witnessed vis-a-vis vino et moi**). Crikey! That's new! However have you done it? The trainers at the LBTEPA Institute for Behavioural Modification have gone right back to basics, is how - I'm using a sticker chart. If I get 40 stars before Melbourne I'm going to buy a swish-o running shirt I've been eyeing off.
In other news, I am completely distracted from my (ahem) "woes" by the news that there will be an Ironman in my home state this summer!!! OMG OMG OMG!!! I am a not-so-secret IM tragic. I've even downloaded the last 5 Kona world championship tv specials from y0utu&e and watch them when I'm on my bike trainer - but I never thought I'd get to spectate at such an event! We have booked our accommodation already.
Now before you wander off, darls, please pop over and wish my brave and amazing mate Duane all the best with his first half-ironman! Go Duane go!

More anon, high-fivers!
*Noddie's teacher, for whom we do not particularly care, set the kids the task of finding new "ph" words. The Spousal Unit and I were careful to add "phlegm". Happy Monday morning Ms W. Bwahahaha
** Coo er flash eh?

48 hours

2 days ago I was sucking down oxygen and airways-opening stuff like the mask was a lifeline to the mothership. Since then I've swallowed horse pills and steroids and enough asthma stuff to make me trippy (on doctor's direction of course).
SO WHY AM I STILL COUGHING AND TIRED OUT AT 3PM? WHY AREN'T I COMPLETELY BETTER?
Don't answer that.
WHINGECOMPLAINBITCHMOANGRIZZLESOOKWHINGECOMPLAINBITCHMOANGRIZZLESOOKWHINGECOMPLAINBITCHMOANGRIZZLESOOKWHINGECOMPLAINBITCHMOANGRIZZLESOOKWHINGECOMPLAINBITCHMOANGRIZZLESOOK

well, that was unexpected

After I nearly threw up from coughing and dizziness from a very slow difficult walk across the playground at Noddie's school I caved and went to the doctor. It was that or the hospital but they were good enough to fit me in. Gosh I felt foul. Thank goodness the Spousal Unit got home from Melbourne in time to pick up Noddie from the clinic so she didn't have to see me really unwell. I don't have pneumonia though, just almost-pneumonia. That's good.
Other good stuff: the breathy-mask-thingy. Love being able to breathe almost-properly. Breathing is under-rated. Also, good drugs! I feel better already. When can I exercise? I asked. When you can breathe without coughing. Ok. Right. Nice clear decision criteria. That's good too.
Stuff I'm not thinking about right now: the look on the doctor's and nurse's faces when I said my next marathon is in nine weeks.
Bad stuff: there is no bad stuff.

More anon, shoulder-shruggers at life's vagaries!

twenty to six

A quiz for you.
Today LBTEPA:
a) is not as well as she thought and ended her planned 20km run after 6km due to unhelpful quantities of chestal phlegm ewwwwww
b) understands that knowing your limits and listening to your body is part of an endurance sport life
c) is very disappointed, discouraged and disheartened Melbourne is coming on like a train ohshitoshitoshit bastard germs I so don't need this breathe in....breathe out...
d) all of the above

Feet, do your stuff

The time has come, the Walrus said... are you saying I'm fat?
Current lurgi status is as follows: chest is still a bit tight but no longer crackly, head is drippy and ears blocked but no longer permanently achy. In the last week I've done a couple of bike workouts and short runs. Tomorrow, unless it's raining ('cause as my five faithful readers know, I may be foolhardy but I'm not stupid don't say anything) I'm going to put 20km in the Melbourne Marathon bank. I'm a bit nervous becuase I'm not 100%. In the interests of not overdoing it I'll be running one song, walking one song, all the freakin' everlasting glacial way. I've seen some plum blossoms about and that means Spring is almost here YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY!! so there won't be a frost (I hope).
I'll let you know how it goes, eh?

Heroes

Huzzah! The breathing of LBTEPA no longer sounds like scrunched up cellophane (crepitations, according to my learned medical friend BP), at least not all the time. Our brave leader has broken a sweat for the first time in a week by trudging to school with Noddie this morning (all of 2.5km round trip), and then later put together a slow 30min on the bike to Prove She Is Back hahahaha sheesh can you believe how her mind works?
Mt Washing is still blocking the laundry door but I've made some inroads into the bottomless chasm that is and will forever be uni. There's been energy for important things, like THIS!!!and for being very angry about a particular individual who makes her living as a (ahem) "journalist", spouting "controversial" opinions and then getting all upset because people think she is full of $h!t and should jolly well pull her head in. I am not going to link to this person because attention is what gives her lowest-common-denominator negativity its power.
My my my, LBTEPA, exclaim my five faithful readers, whatever has this person done to arouse such ire? To paraphrase, she "doesn't understand what all the fuss is about" (Cadel Evans winning the Tour de France) and "doesn't think sportspeople should be called heroes". I'd almost, almost be able to swallow that, she is entitled to her point of view after all, not everyone is as interested in sport as I am am and if you haven't done endurance sport it might be hard to grasp the level of dedication and suffering it takes to achieve at the highest level - if she hadn't followed it up with remarks like "he gets paid millions to ride a bike anyway" (sour grapes, perhaps, and all the other people she names as heroes like surgeons and firefighters do it for free?) and "he doesn't even live in Australia anyway" (simply not true, please try g00g!ing before you sling mud next time, beeyatch).
Her basic point is that Cadel Evans should not be feted as a hero because he is a sporting champion rather than achieving in some worthy area of service to mankind. In her mind, one cannot be the other.
I call bullshit. I say to you, (ahem) "lady", I will have my own heroes regardless of your mean-spirited, ill-informed (ahem) "writings". I feel sorry for you that you are so "sophisticated" that you can only find inspiration in achievements which fit in with an arbitrary and inconsistently applied set of values after all you called Jessica Watson a hero, hmmmmm????. Nor can you allow others to take pleasure in or be uplifted by things you disagree with. Sad.
My heroes are brave and dedicated and determined and inspiring. They give me the gift of their big hearts and Big Dreams, and the message that hard work, strong principles and absolutely never ever giving up enable us to overcome whatever life might throw in our path. Heroes teach us that a heroic life is a beautiful life. Heroes make us think not only I want to be like that but also I can be like that. Heroes overcome even when they don't succeed, which is why we rejoice with them if they finally do.
Here are some of my heroes
- Kieren Perkins
- Dietrich Boenhoeffer
- Robert DeCastella
- my grade 3 teacher
- Chris Moon
- Papa Meilland
- my Mum and Dad
- my grandparents
- my siblings
- Team SD
- Duane, Mary and Tracy

Who are your heroes?
More anon, coruscators!

Cough.
Sweat.
Cough.
Feel dreadful.
Stagger out of bed at 9.30am.
Look at the messy messy house.
Think about how much work and uni stuff is piling up.
Read on Effbee that "everyone else" is already over 20km for their Melbourne long runs.
Find this:

Don't feed your fears. If you want to feed something then feed your purpose. Feed your passion. Feed your creativity. Feed your inspiration. Feed your hopes. Feed your Soul. But please, please don't feed the fears. It won't take them but a minute to devour all of the goodness in your Life. Sorry fear, I got nothin' for you today. Or tomorrow...
(Thanks again Fi. Are you especially watching out for me lately?)

Feel better.
Have a nap.

More anon

Right here right now

I have gone down with Noddie's foul lurgi like a statue of Lenin in 1992 and for the last three days have been up to nothing more than coughing and croaking my way from bed to couch and back. I "should" have put 20km in the Melbourne marathon bank this morning - but you know what? A) there's no way I could physically do it, and B) it would have been the wrong thing to do. When you're sick - and people do get sick - you need to rest. It's the right thing to do right now.
Now calm down, people! No need to panic! Hysterically self-blaming LBTEPA has not been kidnapped, brainwashed, and sent back spouting airy-fairy new-age BS. I think, at long-overdue last, she may have just faded away. And Hoo-f#$%-ing-ray, say my five faithful readers. You've been very patient.
I was reading this today, thanks to my brilliant friend Fiona (I don't know if she reads this but if you do Darl, big hugs to you mate!!!) and although I don't completely subscribe to the whole "everything happens for a reason" argument, I do like its key message:
IT'S OK. YOU'RE DOING WHAT YOU'RE MEANT TO BE DOING.
I do know what my values are and how to live by them. I just have to let myself be peaceful enough to do it. I might have moments of OMGwhat'sgunnahappenifI'mthis farbehindalreadyDISASTERDISASTER!! but I don't have to respond to them. If I let go of my illusion of control over outcomes and have faith in the process - and myself - all will be well.
I must be away now, my treasures, for a late-afternoon nap in readiness to watch Cadel have a crack at the maillot jaune. It's on at about midnight our time, curse those sophisticated Europeans and their pesky time zones.
Aussie Aussie Aussie, allez allez allez!

a Peace rose.

More anon, domestiques!

A satisfying conversation #2

The House of LBTEPA is as we speak the House of Plague. Noddie may or may not have whooping cough - she's had her immunisations so I'm going for the latter - and the Spousal Unit and I are raspy of throat and achy of head. He's worse than I am, poor lambie, and I am concerned about the young hiker-for-charity who stayed with us over the weekend. He has come over from Oklahoma to walk from Sydney to Adelaide (about 1500km) on his summer break from theological college to to raise money for wells and sanitation projects in Africa. He's off down the road toward Melbourne now and it's been pouring since he left, poor bugger; it'd be too bad if he was crook as well because of us. BTW if any of my five faithful readers in Victoria would be interested in supporting this young bloke with company, encouragment or accommodation, let me know. Big Dreamers need all the help they can get!

But on to the Satisfying Conversation.
Ring ring
Hello, this is LBTEPA
Hi, I'm Slick Young Man From the Local Gym, we have a lot of new programs and services available to support people's health and wellbeing and I was wondering if there were any aspects of your fitness, stress management etc that we could help you with?
Ummm...Well I'm doing three marathons this year and you've actually interrupted my bike workout this afternoon, so I think I'm pretty right for the moment.
Oh.

I'm actually going to look into this place as it's the only 24 hour gym in the area. That could be very useful. I do love the gym but as I said to the lovely SYMFtLG, my exercise is organised around my primary duties of spousing and parenting, with work, uni and maintaining rudimentary household hygiene fighting it out for the minor placings. I do need a lot of sleep as well so the wee small hours aren't really my thing. I intend to be sweating on a daily basis for at least the next 40 years, though, so I am sure that a right time to pump iron will come again. More anon, muscle bounders!

Dear LBTEPA

thanks for the trip to Queensland. After we recovered from the marathon we really enjoyed being warm! And the rides! Too much fun!
But we need to talk about yesterday. You ran for six hours two weeks ago, for sure. That was very well done. But you do recall that the success of the day depended on an effective Nutrition and Hydration Plan? You do?
Then what were you thinking, setting out on a two hour run with no fuel or water? And then acting all surprised when you hit the wall and could barely raise a grumpy trot? We were willing to make allowances on this occasion, seeing as you were near your Mum's and you could bott a drink and a couple of jubes from there. Please take time to recall the heaviness of limb and despondency of mind that remained even after you gave the blood some sugar. If we may speak plainly, you have some long runs coming up, yes? Well you pull that kind of stunt on us again and having to detour a couple of km to get some lollies will be the least of your worries.
Yours sincerely
Your Body

Home at last

I was so paralysed with anxiety by the fact that MY BLING GOT LEFT BEHIND AT THE HOTEL IN QUEENSLAND NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! (Not. By. Me. and may I say how lucky the Spousal Unit is to be alive) that I was virtually unable to function and certainly unable to produce scintillating prose such as that expected by my five faithful readers. I was heartbroken.
Don't worry, it'll be FINE, everyone soothed, they're posting it back. It'll be here soon. But you know and I know, my friends, that Sometimes Things Get Lost In The Post. My Bling is Awesome and Mighty but it's not all that big, comparatively speaking. It's only little!
So this afternoon there was much rejoicing when it was made known throughout the kingdom of LBTEPA that My Bling Was Home. Home safe at last, and around my neck where it belongs.

Race report: 2011 Gold Coast Marathon

As was the case last year at the Gold Coast, I'm really not feeling like writing a race report. However, the reluctance is for a completely opposite reason - I am so pleased and satisfied with how the day went that I am happy to let it fade into the mists of smug antiquity.
I do want to get it all down though, both to inspire others (we here at the LBTEPA BigHead Society live, as always, to help) and to remember it for myself. I have presented it in sections for organisational purposes and to allow for comfort breaks.

WELL THAT WAS HELPFUL (NOT)
After dodging every lurgi going around Noddie's school and J's and my work I was pretty confident about starting in good health can I have a WOOT? until about midnight on Friday when the yummy yummy Chinese food I'd so enjoyed turned on me and I spent the rest of the night either vomiting or lying on the couch waiting for the next wave of nausea and stomcah cramps to kick in can I have a BLEAH? I can't put it better than my saintly Mum who said you can't take a trick, can you? Next time it's vegemite sandwiches for the last two days! All day Saturday I sipped sports drink, took ibuprofen for the stomach cramps and crossed every digit I possessed. Late in the afternoon I got some stomach stuff from the chemist which helped to the extent that I could keep down some vegemite sandwiches see Mums know everything and then some pasta at the pre-race dinner. I was feeling really down and kept thinking about what the mean old skinnyfast from the last post had said, stupid, I know (BTW it was a bloke and I saw him afterward and just wished I'd been close enough to vomit on his shoes) and told the Spousal Unit not to bother coming out until the finish becuase I had no idea how I would go. I slept ok until the cramps hit again at 3.30am so I had some more painkillers and slept on the couch until the proper alarm went off at 5.

IN THE DAWN'S EARLY LIGHT
As per The Nutrition and Hydration Plan ALL HAIL THE PLAN!, I downed a couple of big glasses of sports drink and hit the road. I met another lady from our hotel who was running; it was her first full so we chatted all the way as we walked to the race precinct. There's something wonderful in the air before a marathon. Everyone is just a little bit nervous and a lot excited and there's that whiff of bodyglide and goanna oil too. I sat by the road in the 5.00-6.30 corral listening to people BS about how fast they usually were until it was SHOWTIME.

EASING ON DOWN THE ROAD
I had written PATIENT on my hand to remind me to start slow as I was aware that it was a long way (hello Captain Obvious) and that my energy reserves were not so vast as one might wish. I was also very much aware of the cutoff so I tried to balance movin' right along with Not So Fast Missy. Our hotel was at 3km and to my great delight J and Noddie and the hotel owners were out there cheering! What a boost! It already seemed more humid than this cold-blooded Southerner was used to so I drank at each water stop - of which there were a great many, well and enthusiastically supplied all the way to the end I'M TALKING TO YOU, MELBOURNE MARATHON. After 10 km I implemented the Hot Weather Plan at every drink station, as follows
1. Hat off
2. Earphones off
3. Water over head
4. Gulp half a cup
It worked a treat and I didn't ever feel really dreadful even though it got even hotter as the day went on. Mum the weather guru looked up the humidity - 88%!!! I was happy to learn that, as it wasn't just me being a la-la. I kept expecting to have to stop for the loo but I'd feel like it for a bit and then it would go away.
The first 30km of the race is quite nice, along the beach and through residential streets where all the kids are out in their pjs clapping and giving you high-fives. It's an out-and-back so you get to see the elites floating past, and the really fast runners, and the fast runners, and every other bloody runner...but this is the lot of the VSM runner and that's ok. Most of the water stations had one each side so you didn't have to cross the road but there was one on our side without an opposite number. I didn't really care about the faster runners cutting across to get water, it was warm after all, but I did object to being cannoned into and sworn at by two runners who were, after all, on the wrong side of the road taking water from someone else's water station. I remarked to the Spousal Unit that you could just imagine the flaming a slow runner would get if the situation was reversed! My day was made at about 7km when my beloved Mrs Wombat (Team Stupidly Determined (injured division)) popped out of the crowd and gave me a wonderful hug.

FEELIN' HOT HOT HOT
In the interests of Not Freaking Out I wasn't using my watch at all, just plugging on a a comfortable pace. I was happy to note that I hit the 15km mark a little way ahead of my target. At the back of the pack a lot of people run/walk so there was a fair bit of leapfrogging and chatting and hot, isn't it?ing. I ran for a while with an amazing woman called Sheila. This was her eighth marathon - she'd done Ottawa (where she was from), Rome, Reykjavik, Santiago, COMRADES and ANTARCTICA OMG *bows and scrapes* - and she said that although she liked Queensland and indeed Australia very much, she was just hoping to make the cutoff so she didn't have to fly 25 hours here again. She did, too. Go Sheila! At one stage we were running along the Gold Coast highway which was cut to one lane each way and reduced to a crawl by this motley crew of old, fat, slow dreamers. We were all but scorched by their death stares but we didn't care. Shortly after this I passed one John Z, 100+ marathon legend etc etc, who will feature in the story later.

HARD TIMES
The following will glow brightly in the firmament of LBTEPA's Lifetime Stupid decisions, as will become clear later - my tummy was starting to hurt again so I took some ibuprofen I know, I know...now....It took the edge off things a bit and I was pretty happy about hitting 30km comfortably before my target of 4.5 hours. The GCM is actually two out-and-backs, one south and one north of the start area. At 31km you pass the finish, where heaps of people have already finished and others are steaming their way in while you have 11 km to go. It was good to see people wearing The Medal and to tell myself that one of them was waiting for ME, I just have to go out and get it. It was just so so wonderful to get a hug from the Spousal Unit, who had disobeyed my orders hahahaha and was waiting there to cheer me on. I'd stuck to The Hydration and Nutrition Plan ALL HAIL THE PLAN! so I was feeling leg-weary but still ok in myself. It's a stretch of road with fast-food restaurants and concrete and not much else and it was here that I realised the error of A Plan that was basically hang in there until 30km then see what happens becuase you know what happens with A Plan like that? You're all by yourself at 33km with no plan, that's what happens! As an aside, I saw the Best T-shirt Ever around this time: SHUT UP, LEGS. Must get one.

RUN UNTIL YOU DIE
The problem with having enough time to walk it in if you need to is that when it's quite hot (although at about this stage the wind changed from south west to south east and it seemed to get much cooler thanks Mum for the weather info you rock) and you're really starting to hurt because you've run 31km and that's what happens when you do that you start to think I could walk it in.... BUT YOU CAN'T. That is not the Team Stupidly Determined Way. In a lot of races you get to 8-7-6 km from home and you think righto, 8-7-6 km from home, that's not too far, I do that at 5am....but not this day. This day was about run three songs, walk one song, and Nothing Else. It was about nothing else even existing except run three songs, walk one song. Nothing. At. All. It was about asking myself are you dead? No? Well then LBTEPA, you just keep running three songs, walking one UNTIL YOU DIE. True confession, though, and I do hope my five faithful readers will not judge me too harshly: I Cracked At Forty. As I have mentioned I'd not been looking at my watch or thinking much about any Thrilling Time Goals, but the 40km timing mat was impossible to ignore and I realised I wouldn't be going sub-six unless I suddenly grew wings. I lost it. I walked. From 40-41km there was no effort whatsoever to raise even a trot. I'm not that dark on myself about it though; dropping the ball for 9 minutes out of 6 hours is ok.
But,never fear, dear friends - all was not lost. For 41-42.2km I did have a Plan! I'd practiced The Plan at the end of every run for the last six weeks and it kicked in when I needed it: run, run, run that last km, then run some more and don't bloody stop until the finish no matter what I don't care if you die keep running that last km until You. Have. Finished. And that's what I did. I was so happy to be running up the chute that I almost started to cry but I didn't have enough breath so I just kept running and smiling and running and feeling so happy that I'd pulled it off that all I could do was smile some more and then I was finished.
You remember John Z, the 100+ marathoner I passed at 24km? I hadn't seen him since then, and there he was in the recovery area ahead of me. I have witnessed him do this in my last three marathons. He is a bloody cheat, he disgusts me and I feel sorry for him.
Then they gave me my medal and it was all worth it and time for the long slow walk home. I was so happy to have held it together on a tough day I really didn't care about anything.

DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME KIDDIES
After I'd had a shower, something to eat and a glass of bubbles with the Spousal Unit it was time to be with My People (over-excited runners all sharing way too much detail about their races) at the surf club. At the bar I was thrilled beyond measure to see Tristan Miller of Run Like Crazy fame - I'd caught a glimpse of him during the race hanging on for dear life to the 3.15 pace group and given him a cheer. We had a bit of a chat waiting for our drinks but I was starting to feel very peculiar so I had to cut it short and find a seat, probably just as well given my talent for gushiness toward those I admire. All of a sudden I felt as though I was going to faint or vomit or both so I made my way out to the lawn and lay down in the fresh air under a tree. I must have fallen asleep becuase a lady I'd been talking to came out and asked if I was ok. I really wasn't, so even though home was only 500m away I rang J and he came and picked me up. Gosh I felt dreadful. I was dizzy and vomiting and my head hurt awfully. I spent the afternoon sipping sports drink, dozing and being sick. By the evening I was able to eat again and that helped straight away. Next day I was well on the mend but had blood in my urine which was a worry. I went to the chemist and got a lecture from the pharmacist about kidney damage from taking ibuprofen when dehydrated. He did reassure me that it would resolve itself, which it has, thank goodness.

We've spent the days since hammering the rides at the amusement parks, basking in the sunshine and reading about the awful weather at home. Someone has to do it.
More anon, sybarites!

Done and dusted

6.05.51
very humid
stuck to The Plan ALL HAIL THE PLAN!
finished strongly
extremely crook with dehydration afterward but getting better now
awesome bling
very happy

things I could have done without

- food poisoning on Friday night from which I have not entirely recovered
- packing the wrong shorts NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
- the mean rude old skinnyfast at the airport who, when I mentioned I was also doing the marathon, looked me up and down and enquired have you done any training?
Had I not been distracted by an overwhelming urge to hide away and cry and never run again, I could have pointed out that we both get the same medal, MATE.

The amazing Erin asked today in her blog why do you run? I run for a lot of reasons, as my five faithful readers know, but tomorrow I will (Digestion Gods permitting) finish my fourth marathon because that mean rude old skinnyfast thinks I shouldn't.

Here we go

....ohshitohshitohshitwe'reallgoingtodie...........

How to run a marathon

In a way, this is the best time before a marathon. The Marathon Death Star's tractor beam has you in its grip and you are drawn inexorably toward Race Day. Apart from drinking water until you slosh, mainlining echinacea and vitamin C because of all the inconsiderate people who insist on coming to work and coughing Bastards!, and eschewing heels the ultimate sacrifice! - nothing can be done that hasn't already been done. It's quite peaceful really, although I feel a bit sick when I think about actually covering 42.2km, which is a frightfully long way when you think about it, which is why I generally don't, under the cutoff time, which is a terrible worry and another thing not to think about.
Lists are a help, of course, aiding as they do in LBTEPA's raison d'etre, Making A Plan. So for the edification of any aspiring Very Slow Marathoners who might have stumbled across this blog (and the amusement of any lost skinnyfasts), let us open the vaults and reveal a couple of LBTEPA's Helpful Lists.
4 days out - what you really should have done already.
- quite a bit of running. If you haven't got around to this I'd really think hard about giving the whole thing a miss for the time being. My training is at the lower end of the distance spectrum and includes a lot of cross-training because Goofy is my goal and injury management is more important to me than time at this point, but it has been systematic ALL HAIL THE SCHEDULE and as consistent as I could manage. A Very Slow Marathon entails a long time alone with your poor sore body and your poor tired head, so you need to get used to that. If any of your long runs have been train crash/ sufferfests, then you will start the race knowing you can slog it out if you have to. There are different ways of Respecting the Distance, but they all include Do The Long Runs.
An aside - in another some people will really never get it moment at work the other day, we were talking about the ash cloud from the Chilean volcano and how I was worried we mightn't get to Queensland if it comes back and the flights are grounded again (so far so good, fingers crossed please chaps) when someone asked wouldn't you be a bit relieved to have an excuse not to run? I think I mumbled something about how I'd paid my entry and was looking forward to getting some more bling, but after some reflection and inept mental arithmetic, I realised that what I meant to say was I've run almost 700km in training for this and the only this that would stop me getting to the bloody start line is an Act Of God. AND I want some more bling.
- practiced your hydration and nutrition plan ALL HAIL THE MIGHTY HYDRATION AND NUTRITION PLAN! Without food and drink of appropriate quantity and digestibility, the VSM experience can get very ugly very quickly. The LBTEPA VSM Fueling Research Program prescribes water (carried in a waist belt) every ten minutes or so, and a gel every hour. I use Endura gels because a) I've never had either the sugar shakes or GI problems with them and b) they're Australian made and owned so they are not only cheaper but virtuous, and I'm all about cheap virtue hang on I think that came out wrong.
- thought about pacing. I write PATIENCE on my hand lest I shoot off like a bottle rocket and fizzle out as quickly. The Plan for VSM#4 at this stage is run 3 songs: walk 1 until 32km and then decide whether to swap to run 2km: walk 2 minutes. In the interest of Slowness Freakout Avoidance I am contemplating running sans watch as I only use it to know ehn to have my gels and every 7km would work about the same. Your thoughts?
- come up with Plans B, C and D. Plans B and C are for when the Race Gods have got up on the wrong side of the bed, they're not feeling the love and neither are you - in short, it's Just Not Your Day. I'll be carrying ibuprofen and asthma spray. D is for DNF. It's helpful to have decision criteria for walking off the course: mine are inability to breathe, or a joint injury FINGERS CROSSED AGAIN CHAPS!
- decided what you are going to wear and tried it while running at least once. If it doesn't fit, chafes, or rides up - in short, fails to enhance your fabulousness - you don't want to find out on race day. There will be photos, you know!
- tamed or at least securely corralled your demons. The long runs will have helped with this, as you have proven to yourself that you can keep moving through a cloud of I'm so slow, what a loser, I'm so fat, I'm a joke, everyone is laughing at me, why do I bother with this I'm not going to make the cutoff. If you haven't already, now is the time to give those buggers the finger and tell them see you on Sunday afternoon, fellas, at which time you will have a nice big shiny new piece of bling with which to dazzle them and entice them back to their dark lairs, for a while anyway.
- practiced smiling for the finish. Finishing a marathon is one of life's wonderful experiences but your face will be very tired let's face it your entire body will be very tired and you don't want to be all hunched over and scowly as you thunder down the chute to the deafening applause of the admiring crowd. Another bonus of practising that ol' finish line grin is the amusement it provides your neighbours to see you smiling and waving at nothing and no-one at 10am on a Saturday. LBTEPA Inc. is nothing if not community-minded.

What to do in the last 4 days
- drink drink drink then drink some more
- if anyone asks you how your preparation is going, tell them. It is fascinating and they are actually very interested. Even when they back away or feign death.
- finalise marathon playlist and make sure 1p0d is charged
- write encouraging messages on gels. Any thoughts for me?
- pack and travel
- do race nails
- pick up race pack; attempt to refrain from purchasing unnecessary fripperies at the expo
- meet up with imaginary internet friends to eat pasta and desperately pretend that, as a Multiple Marathoner coo er gosh eh you are not so scared you can hardly speak
- pin number on at least four times, aiming for maximum aesthetic pleasingness
- think ohshitoshitohshitwe'reallgoingtodie approx. 100000000000 times
- remember to breathe


More anon, champers at the bit!

I don't know

All is confusion here at Chateau LBTEPA. Let me share with you my current conundrums, or, to put it another way, Things I Don't Know
- whether my sinuses you just knew those little buggers would be involved somehow are waking me up at night and distracting me during the day because a) there's a lot of smoke around at the moment or b)they're gearing up for a major hurt-fest a week out from VSM#4 when I have training for work all week and won't be able to get to the doctor.
- why the dogs stole my makeup bag out of my handbag and took it out into the back yard to play with. I do know that they were very lucky that they didn't chew it up or damage any of the contents. Bad dogs!
- why I have a tummy ache. Poor sleep? Nerves? Too much fibre? Some horrific and inevitably fatal ailment I've stupidly ignored?
- whether to wear my new shoes during VSM#4 or cross my fingers that the old ones have 42.2km of cushioning left in them. The new ones are exactly the same model as the other ones but they feel slightly (and infuriatingly) too big. Could it be the colour? Are yellow things bigger than red things? I don't know! I'll give them one more run with an extra insole and then decide.
- whether the ash cloud from the Chilean volcano will even let us get to Queensland next week. In some ways it's be a relief but let's not hop on that train.
- why I am beating myself up so badly lately. Yes, I'm disappointed that the 2.5kg I painstakingly whittled away over 5 weeks has been regained in 2, but this Does Not Mean that I am a slack lazy spineless disgusting cow who has Ruined Everything with her gluttony. It means that I will have to a) carry more lard than I wanted to around the course next week when I'm worried about making the cutoff, le sigh, and b) concentrate harder on what I eat and drink if I am to carry less lard around the next 42.2. It also means that I must dig out that useful tome "I am not my thoughts: Wrangling the negative self-talk monster" and start practicing again.
But LBTEPA, cry my five faithful readers, can all be shrouded in doom and gloom? What do you know?
I know the LBTEPA Way, my friends. That's what I know. So The Plan Is This:I don't care whose mojo, I'll get some from somewhere....
More anon, my treasures!
(photo is from Randy Marthins' FB album Postcards from the curb)

Yesterday

I was going to have a blah blah blah wallow in self-loathing about how I'm forty-four for F#$%'s sake, I'm too old to be diving into a plate of salt and pepper squid and too many bubbles no matter how upsetting a day was, no wonder I haven't lost much weight blah blah blah, subtext "encourage me! Cheer me up! Tell me it's all ok and keep trying! "
But that's bullshit. It was a horrid day. J was extremely worried and upset by something that happened at his work. We defaulted to our dysfunctional stress response. I didn't live up to my own standards and I feel miserable now.
But know this, my friends: the best thing about yesterday is that it's gone. The best thing about today is that we get another go at doing things better.

More anon, horizon-gazers!
Photo is from Randy Marthins' FB album Postcards from the curb

12 days

~In which LBTEPA learns that some people will never get it~
The other day at church, someone I know asked me how the marathon training was going. I mentioned the Great Niggly Hip Freakout and she replied, oh, any excuse to get out of running.

*insert gobsmacked silence*

In other, less bewildering news, there are less than two weeks to go until Very Slow Marathon #4. Flights, hotel and car are booked and paid for. The pre- and post-race dos are organised. The new shoes are being run in. That familiar, distracting, slightly sick feeling at the thought of spending the better part of a working day sweating for a(n admittedly awesome) bit of bling is back; LBTEPA's nearest and dearest are being kind, which is good.
The obligatory taper headcold is also having a red-hot go at settling in but I am fighting back with sleep, veggies, vitamin C, panadol, and the Best Sinuses Money Can Buy. If all else fails, my doctor now has a letter from my surgeon along the lines of give her the damn antibiotics you idiot.
Panic-merchant LBTEPA is of course Freaking Out (it is taper time, after all) about not getting all the runs done but Zen LBTEPA is consoling her with the thoughts that a) all the Long Runs got done Woot! Woot! Yay!!! and b) this winter has not been marred by never-ending Bastard Sinus and Chest Infections - training has, in fact, been quite consistent overall.
My weight is giving me the irrits. Despite actually concentrating on what I'm eating and drinking far more than interests me, it's more erratic than would even be explained by Female Stuff. Given that I am getting on a bit I think I might go and have all those annoying Female Stuff-type checks when we get home, as well as the Bastard Thyroid too It'll turn on you as soon as look at you, that one.
I've been giving a lot of thought to The Playlist (see "distracted", above). I make a new one for each marathon - doesn't that sound grand? I still find it hard to get my head around the fact that I've done three already! - for exactly the cutoff time. Six and a half hours of No Worries Darl, Just Keep Going and You'll Get There. The following faves list provides (a possibly disturbing) insight into LBTEPA's Happy Little World of Running.*
Deborah Conway - It's only the beginning
Marcia Hines - I've got the music in me
Paris Wells - Let's get it started
Grease soundtrack - Greased lightning (describes me so accurately ROFL)
Theory of a deadman - I hate my life
Joey Scarborough - Believe it or not
Big Bad Voodoo Daddys - I wanna be like you
Janis Joplin - Take another piece of my heart
Skyhooks - Livin' in the 70's
Barney Stinson - The awesome song
Harry Secombe - Battle hymn of the republic
Flogging Molly - Worst day since yesterday
De-lovely soundtrack - Blow Gabriel blow, and of course
Anastasia - Paid my dues
That's probably enough for now, even for my five faithful readers, bless your tolerant hearts. What are your 100% reliable, solid gold firing-up tunes?
More anon, boogie-meisters!
*They're all on Yotu&e but I'm too lazy to link them, sorry.

Madness

I told you the taper madness had set in early. I pulled up a bit sore from my EPIC long run on Monday (they're all epic, just ask me) and just trundled around my mid-week run yesterday morning.
Just to digress, as you do - how cool is it when you actually manage to string together a few weeks of consistent training and not get sick or busy or injured *makes warding-off-evil-eye gesture*, and you get fitter? I love how that works!
So anyway, there I was, a bit sore in the glutes and quads and taking stairs a teeny bit carefully. Nothing dramatic. But by late afternoon my left hip - not the hip that got all crabby after I had Noddie and has required extensive mollycoddling ever since, not the one I expect to crack it with me, nooo, not that one - was whingeing big time. Ow ow ow. As is the LBTEPA way, I did The Sensible Thing. I stretched that hip, stretched it like Gumby I did, and iced it and gave it ibuprofen.
As also is the LBTEPA way, I FREAKED OUT. Someone I actually know (Hi Katy!) "toughed out" hip pain and ran the Hawaii marathon with a FEMORAL NECK FRACTURE that's REALLY BAD, btw. She hasn't run since! Clearly, I was also suffering from a femoral neck fracture!! And unless I let go of my long-held dream of conquering the Gold Coast (the LBTEPA way includes overdramatising as a free service) this was clearly also my future!!! Not to mention wasting thousands of dollars in airfares and becoming morbidly obese within days!!!!Aaarrgghhh!!!!!
The management of the LBTEPA Hostel for the Temporarily Insane would like to thank the kind physio at the clinic where our heroine works for pointing out that a tight iliotibial band was a far better fit for the symptoms described, for suggesting a number of excruciating yet helpful exercises in order to loosen said area, and for not laughing too much.
Taper madness is a cruel affliction and one we should be aware of for our own and others' sakes. Other symptoms include
- obsessively reading and re-reading marathon books and blogs
- obsessive daily weighing and plunging into gloom at how much lard I will be carting around
- overt hostility toward any individual who might be harbouring germs
- actually paying money to do this. OhdearohdearohdearwhatwasIthinking?
- really thinking hard about buying one of these (the hoodie, not the bloke although he is a bit of all right)
There is very little that can be done for the sufferer other than making soothing sounds when s/he appears agitated, allowing her/him to watch Marathon Challenge and Run Fatboy Run over and over again, and taking his/her credit card away.
More anon, wanderers in the poppy fields!

D.O.N.E.

Last long run = 32.5km along the rail trail in the drizzle.
15 minutes faster than last week = maybe I'll make the cutoff after all
Thanks to Mum for company for the last 6km.
Thanks to J for getting the ice,

(I think. BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!)

for the note on the fridgeand for the pie afterward. Mmmmmmmm!
I can feel some knitting by the fire coming on......zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..............

stupid o'clock

It's stupid o'clock on a public holiday. J is snoring softly, as I expect is Noddie after our Big Trip to Melbourne for my nephew's engagement party on Saturday night. It's about 3 degrees outside, and foggy. I have a camelbak, my 1p0d and some gloves and I AM GOING TO DO THIS LAST LONG RUN.
More anon, putters-on of brave faces!

Fascinating running minutiae

I like running. WARNING! WARNING! CAPTAIN OBVIOUS HAS BEEN SIGHTED IN THE VICINITY!
I find it very interesting and I think about it a lot. At this stage in a marathon "campaign", if you will pardon the conceit, I think about it to the exclusion of almost all else. Four weeks to go means it is almost the end of the "build" - there is only one long run left. I can see the taper, ah, the blessed blessed taper, from here. Mind you when I get into the taper I usually hate it because I get very worried and irritable and very hungry. I've worked quite hard this winter to shed a bit of lard so I can start this marathon at close to the same weight I was last year.
A digression: this whole weight loss thingy is is a constant philosophical conundrum for me. I believe that weight does not equal attractiveness, character or worth. I am a constant (and strident, ask anyone) advocate for health measures based on actual health (eg blood sugar, blood pressure, cholesterol, resting heart rate) rather than a lazy-arsed bullshit extrapolation - I'm talking to YOU, BMI - based on specious correlations and society's desire for an outgroup that it is politically correct to vilify. GGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR (see "strident", above).
But then again, go and pick up something that weighs 4.5kg, the amount of weight I gained after my sinus operation last summer. Then think about carrying it 42.2km when if you cut out a few unnecessary and relatively unnoticeable kilojoules - I'm talking to YOU, extra helpings and too much wine - you wouldn't have to. I worry about being hypocritical, but my feet are thanking me after my long runs.
Segueing neatly back to running did you see that?, I've been reading the Best Book EverI'm aware that it's been criticised as only suitable for dilettante non-respecters of the distance and that no Proper Runner would dream of toeing the line with fewer than eight days or 1000km/week under his or her belt. The program is specifically for first-timers and there's heaps of info about stretching (I did read about that somewhere before I think, I forget), nutrition, injury prevention etc etc. They're mad for mantras and I have been trying some out. These days keen observers on the rail trail might hear amongst the rushing river and birdsong a puffed and panted I run tall (reminding me to lengthen my spine and not slump forward), I run loose (reminding me to drop my shoulders and use my core), I run strong, I run straight. The last one is because if I don't pay attention my feet swing in arcs like an ice skater instead of a nice efficient straight line. I had a lightbulb moment about this the other week. When one is blessed with substantial knee and thigh acreage such as that which I possess, and you want your feet to go in a straight line, your knees must touch while you run! *slaps forehead* Well dip me in axle grease and call me slick, eh?
The main theme of the book is that the only way to fail-proof your first marathon - and who wants to fail after you've covered 42.2km? - is to not have a time goal. I like this. The assumption, though, is that if you've hung one piece of marathon bling around your neck and get all fired up for more, you'll want to go faster.
I've been thinking about this, and have come to the conclusion that I don't want to do it that way. It suits me much better to approach every marathon as though it's my first. In a way, each one is, because I've had massively different stuff going on for each one. Time goals (apart from make the cutoff) don't fit in with my other marathon goal, don't spend four months (plus race day) freaking out. Taper insanity is excluded from this of course. I went there a bit early this time - yesterday I completely changed my nutrition and hydration strategy (it worked beautifully btw). I know! Madness! And I'll be breaking in some new shoes this week too!
More anon, daredevils!

Here's to the future

For once, the fascinating daily minutiae at Casa del LBTEPA is not about DRAMAS or PRESSURE or just-managing-to-pull-off-the-almost-impossible-at-the-last-minute. I've got some work to do on my last stats assignment, I'm a bit behind with my case notes and there are two long runs to be got through before VSM#4 ohsitohshitohshitwe'reallgoingtodie. But at this stage it appears that if I keep plugging along and avoid anyone who might harbour a lurgi there will be time for it all. It's a nice change from frantically squeezing it all in around my primary duties of spousing, mumming*, working etc etc.
In other news:
The Spousal Unit did one of those workplace health checks, and his results were Not All They Should Be. His waist-to-hip ratio, blood sugar, cholesterol and blood pressure only just squeaked in under the Get Thee to a Quack Forthwith range. I am quite pleased by this, in a way. Unlike my good self, most of my family and the majority of my friends, the Spousal Unit does not actively manage his health, diet, exercise etc. He has always had active jobs and relied on that to keep him in good nick. He doesn't like being careful about food - does anyone? I don't, but it's one of the things I'm prepared to suck up on my way to being a mad old lady who does crazy energetic things. This is a major long-term goal of the LBTEPA Corporation, and what's more I don't intend to do it alone.
But I digress. I was quite pleased by J's Slightly Alarming health results because finally, finally, instead of chirruping you need to look after your health over and over like a demented parrot, I can say you need to look after your health BECAUSE....and wave the results sheet in his face . Oh frabjous day!!
Working out the right exercise for the Spousal Unit was a bit of a puzzle. J walks all day at work, on concrete, so he wants to sit down afterwards, which is fair enough. He is a homebody who works stupid hours so he doesn't really want to go to the pool or the gym either. He loves watching tv as well. Clearly an exercise bike was the answer! Sitting down + tv + regular cardio = happy J and happy LBTEPA.
JFDI is the LBTEPA Way, as my five faithful readers know, so we went out last Friday and bought him a bike. It was really funny. We tried all the equipment in the shop and took so long about it that when J remarked that we didn't need to actually buy anything, we could just pop in there every lunchtime for a workout, I think the young sales person thought he meant it! We spent a bit on the thing but I justified it as about the cost of a couple of specialist visits in a few years if he doesn't do anything now. It has beepy buttons and readouts and a heart-rate thingy and a comfy seat and weighs a ton (but is on wheels) and I had to completely reorganise my study to fit it in but I was going to do that anyway so it's all good.
J loves it. He does his workouts every day and writes them all down and seems to be sleeping better and feeling more cheerful. I may be imagining these things as it's only been a week. I'm very happy anyway.More anon, long-range forecasters!
*I actually meant parenting, although I'm not averse to a bit of medieval seasonal play-acting should the opportunity arise

A satisfying conversation

~In which LBTEPA's best self does not appear~
Last Saturday I was on my way back along the trail working my way through 30km when a couple of perky types breezed past me. I knew one of them vaguely from the tri club and the post office (I live in a small town) but not the other one. They were moving well faster than me of course, everyone does but I was feeling ok so there was a bit of "Hi!" "Hi!" and I thought nothing of it.
About an hour later, near the end of the trail, the two women breezed past again. "Hi!" said I again. I'm known for my originality. Keep going! said the one I didn't know.
There was a pause as I took this in.
Keep going???Keep going??? I left home at 5.30am! GGGRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!! thought I, but said nothing, only waved (breezily). It seemed the thing to do.
Not long afterward I reached the end of the trail where the two breezy types had stopped (ha!) and were stretching. It happened that it was time for one of my walk breaks so I stopped as well, and said
Nice day for it
Yes, it's good to be finished isn't it?
I'm still 5km from home, but I'm looking forward to getting there (see? Still breezy. Not aggressive At All)
Oh! How far have you done?
Umm, I'm running at the Gold Coast in five weeks so I'm doing some long ones now (see? Not showing off At All)
Are you going up for the marathon?
Yes
Are you doing your first full marathon up there?
Umm, no, this'll be my fourth now
(thinks: bwahahahaha, I'll give YOU keep going!).
(notes faintly startled looks, feels extremely smug)
How about you guys?
We're training for a half marathon next weekend!
Oh, are you doing Traralgon? Wow! That'll be great! Have fun!
(thinks: aww, your first half, how sweet).
Better get this finished now, bye!
Bye!

Please note: LBTEPA's Evil Twin has been coaxed back into her cage with tea and toasted sandwiches. Indiscriminate mental rantings at perfectly nice encouraging strangers have now ceased and normal blog service will resume shortly.

More anon, comrades!

Not being one to complain (stop laughing!) I am just going to say how happy I am to have sent off the second draft of my literature review to my supervisor after an 11-hour revise-a-thon yesterday b/c she only sent it back last Thursday - she's expecting, poor lambie and has been a bit off-colour - and the Spousal Unit was working on the weekend and I had to go to Melbourne on Sunday to see my Dad, who is recovering wonderfully thank you God, and the sinus surgeon (all good-ish, just some pesky stuff but we are on to it) and didn't get back until Monday night and had to work on Tuesday morning. Tomorrow when I get it back I'll deal with whatever needs to be fixed up and hand it in. Then all I have to do is my stats exam.
Oh, and train for this pesky marathon thingy I have signed up for and bought plane tickets and booked a hotel......
Look, it is what it is. I've been a bit sad that my (ahem) "readership" has dropped off (grandiosity anyone?) but at least now that not many skinnyfasts read my burblings (hi Wes! Hi Mark! Hi Paul!) I'm not going to get lectured that I'm not respecting the distance because I have fish and chips for tea every Friday and my life ate some of my long runs. And some of my mid-week runs. And a little bit of my cross-training. 42.2km is going to happen on the third of June. It's going to be slow. It's going to be quite painful at some points. But that's ok. You do your impressive, well-organised, amazing 42.2km and I'll clap as you go past. I love seeing really good runners. They are so strong and well-trained and beautiful. But I'm not them, and I am going to do my underdone, slow, cheerful marathon my way.
Mind you this calm could wear off at any time and the AAAAARRRRGGGGGGGHH OMG oshitohshitohshitwe'reallgoingtodie monster could jump out of my head at any time. You have been warned.
More anon, day-trippers!

Well they SAID

There was all this stuff all over the interwebs (so it must be true) about how the end of the world was on this weekend so I thought what the heck, I may as well lash out seeing as it's all puffs of smoke/long white smocks and wings/oblivion from now on - and then some charming WatchTower sellers came around and said it wasn't this weekend after all! But I've already taken the tags off and moved the buttons so I'm keeping it. More anon

Dear Diary

Dear Diary
Last Tuesday I ran out of my thyroid medication. I was a bit disorganised that day no! you cry so I didn't get around to looking in the basket on top of the fridge for the script until Wednesday and realised I didn't have a refill left. Bugger I said, for the rest of the week wasn't looking filled with clear space to go the the drs and get a new one. Then stuff happened, as it does, and I forgot about it again. On Thursday I drove my parents three and a half hours to Melbourne so my Dad could have a heart procedure, just a keyhole thingy, no dramas. Or so we thought cue sinister music dun dun duhnnnn.....
There were three huge blockages and the valve is more buggered than they expected so poor Dad will be having A Triple Bypass and Valve Replacement! Cue wide open eyes and horrified gasp! Well of course we knew that was going to happen said my saintly yet sometimes quite annoying parents, he was far too crook for it to be fixed with stents, we were expecting this and it'll all be fine. They're old no offence Mum, they know heaps of people who've had OPENHEARTSURGERYAARRGGHHH and are now prancing about like young gazelles. That's all very well, say I, but this is My Dad!!!
I love my friends. One post on EffBee and I was inundated with stories about how their Dads/Uncles/Inlaws/friends at work have had OPENHEARTSURGERYAARRGGHHH and are now prancing about like young gazelles. A running friend of mine is actually a cardiac ICU nurse hi DG!!! and she said most of her patients who have had OPENHEARTSURGERYAARRGGHHH are now prancing about like young gazelles and Dad will feel much better really soon. Which is good.
It was pouring on Friday and Dad looked pretty crook all the way home so it was a bit of a strain, especially for Mum b/c I like to sing when I'm driving. Dad's a bit deaf so he was spared. I remembered to ring the Spousal Unit and get him to pop in to the Dr and order a refill for my thyroid medicine because they won't do it over the phone. I had planned to do my long run on Saturday morning, but instead we got stuck into the housework so the house was pleasant and welcoming again. Noddie and I had a massive row about how like an irretrievably spoiled brat she was choosing to behave, and I did a bike workout while J took Noddie to tap dancing. He did the shopping while he was out and came home with some mouth-watering prawns that he made into a delicious curry for tea. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm!
4.45 am came around really quickly on Sunday. I set out in my cool hat with the light in the brim, my camelbak, 1p0d, gels, gloves, the lot. I could tell pretty early it wasn't going to be one of those 'effortless' ones where you just float along (do you ever have them? You do? Bully for you *sulks*) but I'm pretty good at getting the not-super-fun ones done by now. I just felt strange. The curry made plain its displeasure at being awoken and shaken about at such an hour, but there are plenty of trees along the trail and it wasn't really too bad. It was more that I kept going hot and cold for no reason. After a while I felt almost separate from myself. It wasn't like normal tired and leg-weary at all. I was eating and drinking to The Schedule. I was going even more slowly than usual yet still moving! How does she do it? At 18km, all I could think was that I had to sit down. I. Had. To. Sit. Down. So I did.
Yes.
I. Sat. Down.
There are nine Benches O'Temptation on my 30km route. I do an out-and-back so that's 18 little moments of enticement to be given the finger before trudging gamely on. Never, ever before, not once have I stopped and rested on one. I didn't this time either - there wasn't one in sight so I sat on the ground. Just sat there. It was like a strange dream, where I was moving like cold honey and had no choice about it. When I got up again I had no run left. It crossed my mind that a Real Runner would be all Brave and Keen and walk home to Get the KMs On The Legs. After about a nanosecond I gave that idea the flick and rang my mum because the fam was at church. It seemed to take a long time to walk back to the highway. Mum's Jaguar is really comfortable.
Notes to self:
a) don't expect your thyroid medication to kick in overnight
b) DON'T RUN OUT OF THYROID MEDICATION SCRIPTS YOU IDIOT
c) The Spousal Unit's prawn curry is yummy but contra-indicated prior to long runs.
More anon, livers-and-learners!

Oh, come on

Surely I wasn't the only one who looked at this on the bookstall at the market and saw "The Race Leader"?
More anon, slightly-obsessives!

Exceptional restraint

The mind of the female, married, employed, studying, be-offspringed endurance sport afficionado is a complicated place. Take the weekly long run, for example no really, take it, I don't want it hahaha oh no I can't believe I did that sorry. Say, just for example, your would-be Very Slow Marathon runner plans, say, 28km as her long run for the week. This will require well over four hours away from the house. Her kid is seven so can't be left alone for too long and must be in bed by eight pm lest all hell breaks loose on the morrow. It is not the right-thinking VSMr Way to treat her parents or inlaws as free last-minute babysitters who exist to take up the slack on her lack of forethought. The VSMr's husband might be starting/finishing work any time between 6am and 9pm, on any five of seven days. Her only guide to this is a crumpled and scribbled-on roster on the fridge, which is about as accurate as my footy tipping. She also must fit in two mid-week runs, at least two cross-training days and a rest day here and/or there. The latest mid-week run must be two days before the long run. The long run Must Be Done becuase it's 8 weeks until VSM#4 and I was sick last week. It's mother's day on Sunday, which means a 10k, but that can be a trudge-fest if necessary. I'm on a seven year streak of mother's day bling. I'll crawl if I have to. Uni is Just Too Horrible to Mention but is another time-piranha.
To be precise Noddie's new favourite phrase, awww my time management is a sudoku in sanskrit.
So when I spoke to the Spousal Unit yesterday (Thursday) and at the end of the conversation he casually mentioned that he had changed his Saturday shift from a 10am (doable if I leave at Stupid O'Clock) start to a 7am (You're F#$%ing Joking) start, I restrained myself to remarking (in stern tones) that this was EXCEPTIONALLY INCONVENIENT, rather than swearing aloud, bursting into tears or leaving the office and driving home specifically to dong him on the noggin with a wok. I thought that was rather well done.


More anon, Carthaginians! We shall find a way, or make one!

Evolution

This time last year I would have kept going on that run on Saturday morning, and suffered and suffered and suffered and got a lot sicker for my stupidity. The year before I would have spent a lot of energy blaming myself (not being in perfect health all the time is solely and completely one's own fault, no?) and on oh why? oh why? oh woe! oh woe!
This year I'm just irritated and a bit gloomy about being sick for so long, and doing what I can when I can. So go me! Yay! (I think).
In other news:
Project You Don't Want to Have to Admit You Stuffed Up, Do You*? has been going well, with only one confessional sms required in the first seven days. The ante is slightly up this week (hint: chocolate and wine, crikey) but I'm up for it. LBTEPA's crack team of Multivariate Statisticians continue to toil gamely away at the Impossible Assignment, aka OMG I'm Going to Fail*, albeit with frequent breaks for refreshing wallows in the self-pity pool and looking at shoes on the interweb. But Progress Has Been Made*, and that's the main thing. I keep reminding myself that once this b@stard is handed in there's no more course work, and (ahem) "only" two placements and my thesis to do before I am a Proper Psychologist who will finally get paid Proper Money.*
So. Onward! 2-way ANOVA here we come.
More anon, sparklers!

*The Ethics Committee of LBTEPA Institute would like to assure readers that No Capital Letters Were Harmed in the Production of This Post