the best thing

about everyone in the family having a yucky achy sore-headed exhausted lurgi is that now I can be sure that a)I'm not just lazy with no mojo and b)it's not the chronic fatigue coming back. It's interfering with the rebuilding of my fitness, but that's temporary.
More anon - when I get the unbelievably cranky Noddie off to bad later I may indulge in some utter soppiness about the Spousal Unit, to whom I have now been happily married for 12 years and one day. He's a top bloke and I love him to bits.

up and down and up and down

Some days I'm all, ok, let's DO IT!! yeah!! and some days I'm dragging myself around like I'm made of lead, missing workouts and sleeping like a brick. This starting from (well behind) scratch thingo is haaaaaaardddd. Good thing I am PATIENT, CHEERFUL and OPTIMISTIC, yes?
Now I must stop wasting my precious last weekday off before my placement starts - SO EXCITED about that! but also very scared of how rushed I will be - and take 2 of our three computers to the shop to discuss why they have mysteriously stopped playing dvds (the pc) and working at all (the big laptop). I can't be expected to do a bike workout without anything to watch! Well really.
More anon, dazzlers!

Good stuff

- spending a WHOLE HOUR hour ON MY FEET sweating (walk/running) with NO soreness next day. There were times in January when I said to the Spousal Unit that I didn't believe I would ever run again, let alone aim for another marathon one day. I could just about cry with joy thinking about this.
- not whacking myself on the noggin with 'I used to be able to...'
- appreciating the small gains for what they are - 10 pushups at a time instead of eight! Yay!
- realising that I'd lost my purse arrgghh, remembering I'd probably left it at McDonalds when I got a coffee the day before oh no!, then finding that someone had handed it in. Yay! People are great.
- realising that I do not want to be the sort of person who rants about rude unhelpful phone companies on effbee before I did it
- working out how to close our cash passport from our holiday. I am so clever.
- getting up the nerve to ask favours from the scary exec managers of clinical services and allied health. I am so brave.
- remembering that even the ability to feel happiness is a gift that we take for granted. I AM SO LUCKY.
More anon, super-troupers!

You are getting sleepy....

It appears that here at Chateau LBTEPA we have been either bitten by tsetse flies or annoyed a wicked fairy. Since I got back on the exercise horse I could sleep for Australia, 8+ hours at night, zzzz-ing through the alarm and nana nap events included. But I'm sticking with it. Luckily I've been able to squish in workouts in the evenings. When my placements start and I'm working 5 days a week I will be renewing my relationship with 05.45 and I'm not looking forward to it. We've never got on.
So far the Great Habit Overhaul - which may be confusing to my five faithful readers since I believe I have forgotten to mention it here, apologies - has had less than stellar results. To be entirely truthful, which is of course the LBTEPA way, my birthday party on Friday was a food-and-drink fest so epic that it will be spoken of in awe-struck tones for generations. Everyone had a good time - I certainly did - but my body spent the weekend mumbling huh? what? I thought we were getting back in shape? Oh well. These things happen.
Now it's time to bite the bullet, knuckle down and give sustainable behaviour a crack. I've officially gained 10kg since I met the Spousal Unit, which while of course not diminishing my awesome fabulousness in any way, is not a trajectory that aligns with my long-term (Mad Old Lady Doing Awesome Things) plan.
Yeah yeah yeah you say, *smothering a yawn* we've heard THAT before........and you have, too. I don't know why This Time Will Be Different - and maybe it won't - but as the lovely DG's husband Dr G said, you only have two choices:
1. Try your hardest and give it a red hot go, or
2. Give up!
Has to be Choice #1 really.
I am starting to feel stronger, physically and also in terms of remembering not to mindlessly scoff food that I don't particularly want (hello after-dinner Cadbury Roses!). I'm starting to think of my core/weights sessions as just something I do rather than in a desperate/sad Must Do This It Will Fix My Foot way. I even got out the bike trainer yesterday and had a nice sweaty workout watching Normann beat Macca in 2006, but my foot is a bit niggly this morning so I might have overdone it *makes sad face*
So the year is six weeks old. My favourite thing about 2012 so far is what a good mood I'm in pretty much all the time. It makes me realise how much of the last couple of years I spent in a grit your teeth and grind your way through it state of mind. Cheerful is much nicer. Next project: make it last!
How's your year going? What have you been up to that is adding lustre to your fabulous life?
More anon, ducklings!

45 degrees

Two days from now trumpets will ring from the ramparts of Schloss LBTEPA to celebrate my forty-fifth birthday and I have to say I. Am. Not. Pleased. Forty five is such a dour-sounding number, and completely foreign to the prevailing zeitgeist of energy and optimism! Forty-five...forty-five...forty five. No. Don't care for it.
The other day I indulged in a moment of oh my gosh I'm forty-five that's MIDDLE AGED and what have I done with my life? Then I thought, what have I done with my life in the last five years?
- travelled to Vanuatu and the US
- finished 5 marathons and some half marathons
- had my ankle reconstructed, sinuses re-bored, depression and pneumonia
- finished my honours and almost finished my masters in psychology
- made the big move to the country
- stayed married to the wonderful J, done my best with my dear Noddie and made some wonderful friends
- started to establish a career in my chosen profession
When you put it like that, that's not too shabby really! Yay!
The more eagle-eyed of you will have noticed that in 2012 I AM-------------------------->
PATIENT
CHEERFUL
OPTIMISTIC
I really do need to practice these things, otherwise this rehab would be doing my head in. I do core and strength sessions on alternate days. I walk/run or swim nearly every day. The walk/run is walk for 5 minutes, run 100 steps, for 40 minutes. I 'went long' on Saturday hahahahahaha - yes a whole hour! Go me! Knowing when I've overdone things is pretty straightforward too - it only takes two or three steps with poor biomechanics (= poor core/hip control) for my foot to literally start to tear ow ow ow. Stabbing with broken glass anyone? So far there's only been one day when I've abandoned an outing and sulked home. I am patient, I am cheerful, I am optimistic......I'm off to work out how much casual birthday barbie food to buy for 25 people.
More anon, champers at the bit!

Come up to the lab, and see what's on the slab

While we were travelling I wrote some notes in the back of the Trip Diary what? you don't keep a Trip Diary? How else would I ever remember IDREAMOFJEANNIE lane in Cocoa Beach, or the letterboxes shaped like giant fish? about What I Will Do When I Get Home.
- muesli for breakfast
- core or strength workouts daily
- haven't got time to stretch, haven't got time to run
- walk/run or swim every day.
When I wrote them they were a wish list. A wow I wish I was the kind of person who could do that stuff thing. I don't mind admitting I went away feeling very down, very weak and a bit hopeless. Well no S#$& Sherlock, say my five faithful readers. I couldn't see myself as being an athlete, so the idea of doing stuff that athletes do was incomprehensible.
But over the month we were away I left that feeling behind somewhere - possibly in the Disney World gift shop with my cool sunnies. Darn it. I liked them.
By the time we left Kona - did I mention we stayed in KONA? On ALI'I DRIVE??? Squeee! - I was fired up again!
Kona is fabulous - it's an athlete's town, for sure, but a paradise for fanciers of coffee, icecream and beer as well. You should go there at once. Really.

Very good beer.

Kailua bay, full of clear warm water, coral, beautiful fish and hot blokes swimming really fast.

Now we're home, the feeling has lasted! I feel energised and optimistic. So far I've stuck to the WIWDWIGH list and I'm feeling good. I'm feeling stronger already, which is the best feeling in the world. While we were away Noddie decided she wants to be a vegetarian and I have been supporting her with that (although I eat fish); maybe that change is contributing to my happy mood? I don't know and I don't really care. I'm riding this wave while it lasts! I know this year will be busy what with finishing two placements and writing The Thesis aarrgghh but I have a feeling that it will bring lots of good things too.
I do have a Secret Crazy Goal as well (OF COURSE), but more on that later.What are YOU looking forward to this year?
More anon, lion dancers!

Orrighty

As soon as I finish this cup of tea, Operation "I know there's an athlete in here somewhere" will commence!
More anon, yellow brick road followers!

I was right

Team LBTEPA's Big US Trip continues apace. We have swum with manatees - the most wonderful experience! - and eaten Key Lime pie in Key West, which is an absolutely top place. You should go there as soon as possible. Tomorrow we go snorkelling in Marathon Key - how could I resist? - then maybe a day trip to Miami (better get myself a white jacket and some reflecting shades), then off to Cape Kennedy for some rocket science. After that we are Kona-bound, for snorkelling and volcanoes and a run along Ali'i drive (I hope)!
I was right. It did absolutely break my heart to walk around Disney World and see all the runners with their Goofy medals. I didn't begrudge them their bling for one second - I know how hard you have to work to even think about Goofy - I was just so sad that I would never get one. I'd consoled myself that I might at least walk through the magic castle but when I got there it was blocked off. I don't like to upset the Spousal Unit and Noddie so I went and looked at the moat and pretended I had something in my eyes. I sat next to a Goofy runner on the bus back to the airport and I ended up telling her my sad tale; she asked had I been along to watch any of the races and then interrupted herself, no, you wouldn't have, it would be much too sad.
Four days later my heart is still broken but at least the sharp pieces aren't stabbing me every time I think about The Big Dream That Died.
On that note: today in Key West, we walked and walked and walked for five hours (it's a brilliant place, you should go there Straight Away) and MY FOOT DIDN'T HURT. For the first time since October I spent an entire day without feeling as though there was a piece of glass in my shoe. This is A Good Thing. A Very Very Good Thing.
More anon, buccaneers!

Goofy times

Travelling update: Disney World is INSANE (but in a pretty and very well-ke pt way). The stage shows and 3D shows are BRILLIANT. The place we are staying is comfortable and friendly and fun and there's plenty of more than acceptable food. We've overcome our confusion at the upside down light switches and the sweet bread and have learned to speak very slowly and clearly so people can understand our exotic foreign accents. Despite being cross-eyed with tiredness after flying from Honolulu via Denver, we went to the Magic Kingdom the first night we were here to see the parade and the fireworks. It was magic. So beautiful. We're going back in daylight tomorrow to hit some more rides (and quite probably buy another t-shirt).
It's very very hard to be around people wearing Donald Duck medals (for the half) here, and I expect it will be harder tomorrow when I see people with all three of the Goofy medals, but I am, as always, keeping the old LBTEPA chin up, riding the heck out of roller coasters with Noddie, and refraining from eating chips.More anon, bigears!

My bad

as the young'uns would say.
I have been a slack, slack blogger, but in my defence I have been busy - since last I wrote I have
- hosted Christmas lunch
- spent time wth my brother, s-i-l and 3yo nephew down for the holidays
- thrown a 50th barbecue for the Spousal Unit. Happy birthdy darl!
- found an eleventh-hour house-sitter (phew!)
- finished up work for the year
- cleaned the house to within an inch of its life
- packed for the three of us to go away for a month
- made the #$%! cash card work by sheer force of will
- celebrated new year's eve with friends in Melbourne
- started the new year with a swim and ended it 38 hours later IN HONOLULU
- sipped tea and looked out over Honoluu from our 36th floor balcony
- visited Pearl Harbour, Waikiki Beach, Iolani Palace, and the Bishop museum
- eaten my bodyweight in Korean food, sent 10 post cards and bought far too many t-shirts
In addition to this, I have come up with the theme for 2012. If I was the type for retrospectives I would have to sum up 2011 as the year of wallowing. A bunch of mild-to-moderately crap stuff happened, certainly. My foot is nowhere near better. But things got me down. I got very very down. After my foot got hurt I Just Gave Up.
Well NO MORE. I will continue with the strength/core work. If swimming is what I can do then I will swim. I will get better. I am dreaming of a slow 100m on Ali'i drive in two weeks' time but it doesn't seem at all likely. A walk might have to suffice. Cross your fingers for me.
So the theme?
2012 is hereby THE YEAR OF NOT WALLOWING.
And not eating chips.
We are about to get the shuttle bus to the airport to catch the redeye to Florida via Denver so I'd better go.
More anon, gallivanters!

To my five faithful readers

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Wonderful

The most wonderful thing happened the other day. I woke up one morning and I'd stopped feeling ashamed of my body. Yes! After 30+ years of wrestling with self-shame, self-blame and not good enough, I finally accept my whole self. I cannot believe how nice it is to see my belly in the mirror and not judge myself for it. Harsh thoughts do flit along from time to time, of course, but now I notice them and think, oh yes, I used to buy into that s#$*. I don't struggle with them any more. I just let them be and they get bored and slink off.
It's a strange time for this to happen, being as I'm at my heaviest ever and unfittest for years. But it's good. Being kind to oneself is so restful! It means I can buy a couple of one-size-larger t-shirts for my holiday so I'll look nice and be comfortable, without self-judgement or justification. I look at my slightly-too-small clothes now and feel mildly irritated that my outfit choices are more limited than is completely convenient, rather than diving into the I am such a lazy loser pool and having a good splash.
But how did this happen? you ask, (as well you might). I've been actively challenging my thoughts about size for quite a while, since I realised that nearly every day began with an upended bucket of harsh as I stood on the scales or saw myself as I dressed. This is not how I want to live. Nor is successful weight-control = personal worth an attitude I wish to pass on to my beautiful Noddie.
Initially I was much more successful at changing my thoughts about others than those about myself. I recall my physio commenting that my podiatrist could stand to lose some weight. Could he? I asked. Hadn't you noticed? he said. My reply was, I don't look at people that way - and I was happy to realise that this was true.
I was determined to cultivate a more peaceful and loving way of being. I kept noticing my self-critical, self-hating thoughts and allowing them to pass. I kept being kind to myself and reading great blogs and thinking new thoughts that were in line with my values.
And then one day I woke up and I knew that I was completely ok.
I don't think this means I will never actively seek to lose weight again. The habits that led to this weight gain are not particularly conducive to good long-term health , nor are they compatible with endurance sport. But the difference now is that regardless of what happens as a result of my efforts or where I am in the change process, I will not be ashamed. I will never "fail". I will always be good enough, no matter what.
And so will you.
Merry Christmas, darls!

We were in the travel agent yesterday becuase we're GOING TO AMERICA IN TWO WEEKS OH MY GOODNESS HOW EXCITING! The agent has just come back from Disney World so was telling us all about how sensational it is and which rides we NEED to go on (Noddie and I are complete ride-heads so we are MADLY excited). Then she gave us a brochure with a map and photos of the Magic Castle and I thought I won't be running through there and I could have just laid my head down on the desk and howled. But I didn't. And the bright pink (Noddie's) and bright red (mine) suede passport covers (with diamantes!) have arrived and I've worked out how to transform dvd files into avi files so we can watch them on the new teeny laptop. So all is well.
But if ONE MORE PERSON says but you'll be able to do it another year or there are other races or you're still going to America anyway, aren't you?, I'll, I'll just....I'll just hang my head and say, that's true. You're right.
In other news: I have heaved myself off the Couch o' Self-Pity and been doing a bit of cycling out in the fresh air and sunshine. I've really enjoyed it, but every time I go my stupid foot gets horribly painful and takes 2-3 days to settle down again. Bloody upsetting. I've belatedly realised that riding a bike on the road is biomechanically completely different from working out on the bike trainer HELLO CAPTAIN OBVIOUS, so it's back to watching other people run while I spin away indoors. This trial-and-error method of rehab is doing my head in. My physio seems to be a great diagnostician but really crap at treatment. He just told me to 'strengthen my core' (umm, HOW?) and 'let pain be your guide' to returning to running. This is NOT as specific a set of decision criteria as I would normally use. He said he doesn't need to see me any more and that it's up to me and the podiatrist from now on. WHAT? I do not feel confident about managing this on my own yet. I worry all the time that what I'm doing is a waste of time, or even making things worse.
But you know what? Now that I've realised that this feeling of not knowing what to do and having no-one to help or guide me is part of the deep sadness of this whole situation, I can start to dig my way out of this pit. I've pinched a core/strength program from the mighty Erin and modified it so I can do it most days. I've been swimming, and my poor bike Minerva is back on the trainer in the study. It doesn't matter if I feel worried or lost. I CAN DO THIS.
Now must be off and start making another Christmas cake because the one I made last week was of such a magnificent melting richness that we have already eaten a fair bit of it.
More anon, yuletiders!

Truthful

Since I saw you last I have completed
3x sessions of stretching/core exercises
1x swim
2x bike rides, although my foot hurts after them which is a worry.
1x 2km walk with no foot pain. 2 whole kilometres. How the mighty fall, eh?
Daily epic battles with don't wanna and maybe later and how did I get so weak so quickly, this is awful why don't I just stop? So far it's LBTEPA 3, bleating 0.
No sense of "I'm baaaack, baby!" as yet, although I live in hope. I've noticed that the nice feeling of permanent slight muscle fatigue has returned. Progress is progress.

I've sort of been feeling as though I should apologise to my five faithful readers for all the bleating of the last few weeks. I do know that it's not really 'serious' or the end of the world that I can't do Goofy. We're going to Disney World and swimming with manatees and looking at volcanoes, for heaven's sake! But the other day I read a Woody Allen quote where he said I don't get angry, I internalise it and grow a tumour and I thought, that's why I have my blog. Sometimes I need to write stuff down to see its shape and to put it in a space outside my head. I like having lots of readers and comments and so on, but if I have to choose between that and writing something I need to write, well sorry darls and do pop by when you're next in town. This is where I practice being kind to myself, so I can do it on the hop out in the real world when I'm failing at being perfect.
Anyway just wanted to say that.
This afternoon is the tri club Christmas barbie. I haven't raced all season of course. I have been really dreading showing up to anything, all lardy and slow as always but without Goofy awesomeness to protect me. I'm still going. Fear is not a reason to pike.

More anon, sweaters!

It wasn't yesterday; it was three days ago. But this time I mean it. I do.
It's so hard though. Much harder than I remember.
I just must keep reminding myself that I've done this before. Climbing over flab and weakness and inertia and doubt is always miserable in the beginning.

I will post on Tuesday with a truthful report.
More anon, scriveners!

Not so bad in the grand scheme of things

SCENE: a physiotherapist's treatment room
LBTEPA: soooo (feigning unconcern)...roughly how long do these things usually take to resolve?
(a pause ensues, during which LBTEPA wishes she hadn't asked)
Physio: well it's one of those how long is a piece of string things, but usually between four and six months. Sometimes a lot longer.
LBTEPA: Oh.

Thinks: Ohhhhh-kaaaay......Right. Jolly good.
Thinks: I. NEED. BUBBLES.
Thinks: I'm sad

SOME TIME LATER:
Thinks: Righto. Time to HTFU and get in the stupid pool.
Thinks: I'm sad

More anon, adventurers!

Yay

Rehab instructions:
- lie on back
- activate core muscles BUT NOT ABS no no noooo that's what people with WEAK cores do
1. raise bent knee slightly x10
2. raise straight leg slightly x10
3. with knees together and both feet on floor, raise buttocks slightly x10
- repeat x 2/daily x 2 weeks
- consciously activate core with every single step you take feel unco-ordinated and tired
- wear flat mary-jane shoes all the time becuase they'll hold your orthotics feel frumpy, also shallow: so many people have far worse problems than missing their pretty shoes
- be constantly aware how unbalanced and painful it still is to walk feel disheartened
- hope to goodness you'll be ok to walk around disneyworld four weeks from now feel worried
- wonder if there's any point booking accommodation for Gold Coast next year feel sad
- pretend you're not bothered. There are Christmas-happy tap-dancing kids and blokes with broken ribs to look after!* Plannning and wrapping and preparing and packing to be done! Insouciance-R-Us! Yay!
- remember that mince pies fix everything

mmmmmm........... mince pies...............

more anon, yuletiders!
*J barrel-rolled his go-kart last Sunday. Can anyone say LUCKY BLOODY ESCAPE? I have asked him to not do it again, or at least wait until I am not watching.

Lost in space

Apart from the rehab exercises, I haven't broken a sweat in, ummm... counts under breath five days. I don't feel like it. I don't even miss it. I feel odd - not bad or unhappy or anything, just a bit numb and lost. As though I'm floating. Ridiculous self-indulgence is all it is. I need a bloody good smack upside of the head. Count your damn blessings and get off your sorry arse, woman!
And another thing - we're going to America in four weeks (!!!!) and I'm not that excited. Mild interest about sums it up. I don't think I actually believe it. Any of it. I really do need a good smack upside of the head.

this arrived in the post on Thursday

I'd forgotten I'd ordered it. I really like it.
What three words would you hang around your neck?

I did it

A salutory tale in which our heroine learns that slackness never goes unpunished.
I went back to the physio last night. He looked at my foot again and got me to stand on one leg (which is quite tricky) and then lie down and raise my leg and then looked at my shoes. Then he told me that my core muscles are so pathetically weak that they have created torsion from my hip all the way down to my toes which is why my foot (and everything else) is buggered. Basically catastrophic overload of poor biomechanics. I now have many difficult exercises to do involving activation of the core muscles independent of the abs. Many people can do this easily, I gather. I hate them all.
This kills me. You see, I've had this problem before, about seven years ago after I had Noddie. I wasn't running so much then so it presented as mostly hip pain. My physio and I worked really hard for ages to sort it all out and make my core strong and active and all that a core should be. Over the years, though, I somehow got into the mindset that it was all fixed so I didn't need to worry about it any more...and I stopped doing my core exercises. This last year it's been all I could do to get the running done, what with the move and uni and J struggling at work and me being sick, let alone cross-training and strength work excuses excuses bleat bleat blah blah blah.
That'll teach me. If you fail to be diligent about things they will sneak up and bite you, and take your Goofy medals.
I've had a good cry about this whole mess and will probably sook some more but the milk is well and truly spilt now and I just have to suck it up. That came out wrong. Eewww.

I've always said that if you can't be a good example then be a dire warning. You're welcome.
More anon.

WWaAD?

I've stopped crying over the fact that I won't be doing the only thing really I wanted to do or bringing home the only souvenir I really wanted from this whole J's Bucket List/Big 5-0 US Dream Trip. These things happen. No-one stole my birthday. I'm still sad. It's ok to be sad when a Big Dream dies. Not to mention having to wear flat shoes All The Time oh the trauma.
When I'd run out of sparkling shiraz and dark chocolate with rum and raisin (it's go hard or go home here at the LBTEPA Emotional Wallowing Centre), I sat on the couch icing my poor sore foot ow ow ow and asked myself a question.
I'm an athlete. It says so in my sidebar.
What Would an Athlete Do?
An athlete wouldn't sit on the couch bleating about her rapidly expanding rear end, that's for sure. There are far more important things to bleat about, like my poor sore foot ow ow ow, boring rehab exercises and my ugly flat shoes oh the trauma. An athlete would HTFU and BE AN ATHLETE.
So I got the F#$% up off the couch, and got the F#$% onto my bike and into the pool.
ROOOAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!

More anon, my ducklings

Out.

Sms to the Spousal Unit:
sports physio says sub-talar joint is bad, possible heel spur needs x-ray maybe cortisone, biomechanical problems making things worse. No running min 3 months. Goofy is f#$%ed.
After the appointment I just sat in the car for about 20 minutes. I just couldn't move.
Then I went to the supermarket and bought some chocolate and sprkling shiraz.

Bugger, eh?

More anon.

Sunday seven

1. still icing my poor sore foot every hour or so.Still wearing flat shoes oh the trauma.
2. still not running. The podiatrist said we should wait at least another week before I even try it. After the last attempt a couple of weeks ago, when it was a bit sore at first then settled down then suddenly felt as though I was being STABBED with every step and then hurt like #$%& #$%&ing #$%& for days and days and days, I'm sticking with caution. It still gets more and more painful as the day wears on which is a worry.
3. I'm not sure I really like my new podiatrist. I want someone to tell me if you do x then y will happen, preferably with x = ice and rest for a few more days and y = completely recover and be able to run without worrying about it ever again. That's not his way, apparently; he's more a we'd better take it carefully for another two weeks and then make a decision from there. Boo. At least he's made me some orthotics that actually do something.
4. I feel flabby and weak, and irritable, and hungry, only not really hungry, just irritably hungry. I am putting in some bike trainer time and have been swimming once but it's all so depressing.
5. I've watched a couple of incredible documentaries while I've been sweating in one spot. One was about two young blokes who kayaked from Oz to New Zealand. At the finish, one chap commented that doing amazing things and chasing down big dreams wasn't so much about the doing itself, but about coming home at the end and living a richer life becuase of what you'd done. I love that. The other one was about the Pikes Peak race in the US, which makes Goofy look like a pathetic doddle. Lots of gravity involved there.
6. I'm so sad to hear about Peter Roebuck's death. Nobody's said anything about a cause yet, which usually means that the person found life's path too rocky to struggle along any longer.
7. Sometimes I've got my head around the fact that Goofy is pretty much stuffed, and sometimes I haven't. Le sigh.....

More anon, philosophers!

what, me worry?

Here at the LBTEPA Institute for Behavioural Modification, the cycle of tape-ice-ibuprofen-wear-flat-shoes-feel-sad-worry-about-Goofy-weigh-myself-feel-worse continues. I'm sorry if I'm letting the side down but there you have it. As I bleated to the ever-supportive Spousal Unit yesterday, most of my other marathons have been #$%*ing train wrecks, I don't know why I thought this one would be any different (the Institute includes a Self-Pity Pool for daily wallowing). The Spousal Unit, bless him, said I've always finished my marathons before even with utterly crap preparation, so I shouldn't worry hahahahahahahaha.
But you know what the thing is? The thing is, I expect to get sick in the winter. Totally across that. Over it, but across it. It happens. It's been well over two years since I was injured, though. More than two years, and this rat-bastard plantar fasciitis decides to move in and hang aound now? When I've paid huge amounts of money to fly the family across the world and race 63.3kms over two days, less than 9 weeks from now? I feel very very sad about this, and very scared as well. I wake up at night and try to reframe it or feel hopeful or make some kind of Plan and I can't. I just don't know what to do.
Let us, then, wheel out the boffins and study this scientifically. As my saintly mum would say, what's the worst thing that could happen?
In no particular order:
- my foot isn't better enough to even have a go at the half when the mighty Mary Sunshine has coughed up airfares and race fees to come all the way to Florida from Ohio and run with me.
- I run and get injured and the rest of the holiday is stuffed up for the others.
- I run and can't finish under the cutoff = no bling and huge, huge disappointment.
- everybody I've yapped to for this whole year of planning for my Big Dream why do I talk so much? Why? asks me how it went and I have to tell them I didn't get it done. Because I was injured. And then the sneering, patronising, condescending you're pathetic you're lazy you're not good enough you've let everyone down I knew you couldn't do it demons will eat me.
I need to share something about Big Dreams with you, my five faithful readers. The worst thing about them is that even though you know they're stupid and unimportant in the grand scheme of things, you still work stupidly hard for them and you love them stupidly dearly and the thought of losing them is just too horrid to contemplate.
I. Need. A. Plan.
Thanks to the Spousal Unit, I have one (not "don't worry about it sweety" which while well meant is infuriatingly unhelpful and will get him a dong on the noggin if he keeps it up).
The Plan Is This:
Do everything possible to start the half marathon with the mighty Mary Sunshine! Woot!
If I finish in time and in one piece, decide whether to have a crack at the full.
The flaw in this plan is of course that it only covers Jan 7th and 8th. I might have to occupy myself in the meantime with some freestyle freaking out (is that an Olympic sport?) unless someone has any better ideas. Don't say "get stuck into the chardy" either because I've reformed but am terribly easily led.
More anon, bravehearts!

She will wear them with panache

My awesome new shoes arrived today, and because I can't wear them while I am recovering from plantar fasciitis (and some other awful-sounding ankle/achilles thing that I forget the name of), now properly diagnosed by a real live physio, as opposed to Dr G00gle - who was spot on, btw - which means no running at all except in the pool (bike workouts are ok though) for at least another week and maybe up to three more weeks, I gave them to my Mum because she looked stunning in them.

no running at all for maybe up to three more weeks

It's 63 days until Goofy
What am I going to do?

The lengths to which I will go

Because I am absolutely dedicated to Goofy (=recovering from this stupid sore foot asafp), I wore flat shoes to the races. On Cup Day.
Flat shoes = pants = NO HAT = nowayIcan'tbelieveyoudidthatwowyouaresodedicated
I can't believe it either but I can prove it. Look! More anon, flutterers!

more ow

ANNOUNCEMENT: LBTEPA's sore foot has been diagnoosed as plantar fasciitis ow ow ow. Treatment will involve no running for at least a week. LBTEPA is concerned-bordering-on-panicky but intends to maintain an attitude of cheerful stocisim.
Any tales of miraculous recoveries from PF involving her five faithful readers, their friends, relatives, acquaintances, or indeeed random persons of whom they have only heard on the interwebs would be greatly appreciated.
More anon.

Bastard.

Ow

Sunday's run was really encouraging even though it was very very weird to set out in daylight. It got quite hot by the time I got home, possibly becuase of that strange glowing orb in the sky. I haven't seen it for so long I couldn't really remember what it was. I was literally dripping on the kitchen floor when I got back can anyone say ewwwww? even though I'd taken the camelbak and polished off nearly 2 litres of water in 3 hours. The hardest thing about the run was thinking about doing it - I think I'm more mentally than physically tired of running at the 'mo. It was such a lovely day; I took my time through the paddocks and along the river and still finished 21k under Goofy pace.
I must warn my five faithful readers that Goofy is the current LBTEPA oh no oh no this (tiny insignificant thing du jour) will ruin everything freakout topic. It is likely to remain so, and to significantly intensify, over the next 72 daysyou'rejokingsosoonI'llneverbeready ohdearohdearohdear...... which brings me to my current freakout - and please don't say I told you so becuase I know. I know adjusting my orthotic with a paring knife and a hammer was stupid. What can I say? I blame taper madness. All right, that's a lie. I blame myself; it was a stupid, stupid, stupid thing to do and no wonder my foot really hurts. I'm off to the podiatrist this afternoon to confess and hope it won't take three weeks to fix because then I am stuffed.
Oh, and thank you all so much for your wise words on my last post. I bought those shoes.

UPDATE: All is well, if by "all is well" one means "my current orthotics bear no relationship to either my feet or my gait problems whatsoever so I am having new ones made by someone who actually looked at my feet and my runners and listened to what I said. My sore foot will go away (the soreness. Not the foot. Don't be silly) if I ice it and wear some over-the-counter insoles while the new orthotics are spun from unicorn manes, or whatever they make them from that makes them cost so much. Yay. Goofy lives on!

Things that make you go hmm...

I've been grappling with a couple of very difficult quandaries.
1. There is a bloke I know of who has (ahem) "completed" 140 marathons. He is in his late 60s (I think) and finishes around the 6.5-7 hour mark. He is very happy to show off and take the accolades for his "achievements". This man is a cheat. He shaves the course. I know this to be true, having witnessed it myself on more than one occasion. Other members of Team SD have also observed him doing this. He is a pathetic liar and a disgrace.
But the thing is, I know another bloke. This other bloke is a top bloke. A skinnyfast himself, he is kind and encouraging and helpful to those not so genetically gifted in relation to their chosen sport. He also knows this first bloke. He is not aware of this bloke's habits and thinks of him as a never-say-die inspiration to all back-of-the-packers. He speaks of him as such to others.
Do I tell him?
And the other question:
2. Does it still count as an impulse-buy if you've been lusting after something for weeks?I await your counsel, oh wise ones!
More anon, puzzlers

What was I thinking?

Quite often when I couldn't stand thinking about the Melbourne Marathon, I'd cast my mind past the unimaginable to What I Would Do Afterward. Difficult to picture, of course - as a Very Slow Marathon looms it eats up the attention and imagination. Marathon day is somehow the End Of Time.
It's always a bit of a shock to find oneself having finished another one. It also means it's time to revisit those imaginings and make them real. Or not. This week I've felt so weary it's been almost impossible to envisage doing Goofy in aaarrgghh 81days aarrgghh. I went for a run today and it felt as though I hadn't been out for weeks. My legs and mind were all, pardon? You want us to do what? Didn't we just do quite a LOT of that? Got it done though, and it wasn't too terrible. I dug out my heart rate monitor as a bit of an experiment and tried to stay in the 60-75% zone. It was interesting, especially when it started to pour just as I was going up a hill - hello 15 extra bpm!
But back to all that "after Melbourne I'm gunna...."It's crossed my mind that keeping on doing what I was doing would do (as it were). I did finish VSM#5, after all. That, I must let you know, is when I slapped myself upside of the head and gave myself a good talking to. I'm not doing another Very Slow Marathon on stupid determination and the smell of an oily rag. I'm not. I need to get started doing what I thought about when I wasn't thinking about VSM#5.
So what was I thinking?
Less booze. I think I mentioned this a little while ago. The Spousal Unit is helping me. I'm certainly not against the demon drink per se (QED) but the pattern get tired and sad-drink-eat-miss training will not get me what I want. And as my five faithful readers know, life on Planet LBTEPA is all about getting what I want.
Swim, swim, swim! Lots of reasons for this. My core muscles need beefing up. I have noticed a diminution in my upper body strength which does not please me. Swimming makes me all happy and in a good mood and tightens up my upper arms, which (if such a thing is conceivable), could be said to be the least perfect part of the LBTEPA physique. We're going to Hawaii and I haven't swum for months! What if I've forgotten how?
Consecutive runs. Eww! I am going to challenge the 'ol fear of injury and JFDI. The very sketchy Schedule at this stage is Monday morning swim (although my lazy disorganised twin already stuffed that up this week, the tiresome b$#%, so I will have to choose between the pool and grocery shopping after tea tonight, le sigh...), Tuesday and Thursday shorter runs, Saturday long run, Sunday shorter run. A spin on either Wednesday or Friday. Oh my but just reading that makes me tired. Note to self: keep up the vitmains!
I must not get caught up in the ohcrapAGAINwhatwasIthinkingit'salltoohardI'mtiredIcan't. I must focus on how cool Goofy is going to be.

Soon you will be mine, my pretties.....soon.....

More anon, bling-hounds!

Saturday

Today I actually felt like doing some exercise.

Race report: Melbourne Marathon 2011

Just to either ruin the punchline or prevent any skerrick of anxiety from causing the slightest modicum of stress to any of my five faithful readers, VSM#5 went well...considering.
Especiallly (cue sinister music) the fact that on Thursday I commented to the Spousal Unit that it's actually a good thing I rolled my ankle, 'cause otherwise I'd be FREAKING OUT about this bloody chest.
Ha, missed that in the waterfall of whingeing over the last couple of weeks, didn't you? The Cough was back, with its horrible mates crook, achy and exhausted.
But as always, optimism being the LBTEPA way, I swallowed my despair and terror (sounds as though I thought this was really important, doesn't it?) and Acted As If things were going to be ok. I slept, I hydrated, I took my medicine. I strapped and iced and rested my ankle and hoped for the best. I sang the national anthem at the start line. I'd got away with it! Or so I thought...
But I digress.
I met up with the Mighty Emma and her husband R at our hotel on the Saturday. She was irritatingly perky and excited about our next big adventure. The kilometre from the station to our hotel had felt like a very long way to me so I wanted to slap her. Fortunately, over the course of the day these opposing moods oscillated back and forth so when she was a teary fearful mess I was all positive and resolute (and I expect she had to restrain herself from slapping me). After I'd had a nice sleep the Spousal Unit and Noddie arrived and we went out for dinner blah blah blah nervous chatter pre-race preparation (race nails etc) and off to bed.
Race day. Drizzly, a bit cold. The atmosphere at the start was wonderful - so much excitment! And so lovely to see so many friends again. I'm smiling just thinking about it.
I don't use a garmin so my strategy for the first 10km or so was to keep the mighty Emma in sight because I knew she was planning on a similar pace to mine. I felt good along St Kilda Rd and around Albert Park although the cutoff time when they wouldn't let you turn right onto the full marathon course was always at the back of my mind. I may have gone out a bit fast becuase of this, I don't know. Becuase of my limited preparation and having been sick during the week, I really didn't have much idea what I was capable of. I tried to hold back, but... maybe I should get a garmin? I dunno.
Anyway, I got to the cutoff point under the time. The half marathoners were well on their way by that stage. The elites floated by like angels. I loved to watch them. As an aside - if you're thinking of doing a Very Slow Marathon, make sure you put your name on your shirt, in big letters and preferably accompanied by a memorable slogan. My Stupidly Determined shirt got me so much encouragement! And if you're watching a Very Slow marathon, please do call out to people with names on their shirts! They appreciate it more than you could possibly know.
Down the hill we went, with all the fast runners steaming up toward us. I felt tired watching them working so hard, which was not a good sign. Off down the beach we went, into the most vile, bitter headwind you can imagine. F*** it was windy. I had been going nicely with run two songs: walk one until this point but as I got colder (did I mention this wind came with occasional face-stinging squalls?) I started to become aware that I didn't have as much in the tank as I'd foolishly/optimistically hoped. It was still a very long way home and I would have to start adjusting The Plan so I could get there. Run one:walk one it was, from 17-27km. The northern turnaround was my favourite place in the world becuase I was finally out of the wind. Eight km of tail wind and then only three back into its teeth before we headed back toward the city. I could deal with that. On and on I trundled. I'd started to cough a bit, but it was ok. I almost laughed when the wind swung - a complete 180 degrees, right back into our faces! It was clearly time to call on Chris McCormack's wonderful advice to endurance athletes: EMBRACE THE SUCK. I had to laugh. Hi Suck! There you are! I've been expecting you (although perhaps not on this scale). Let's run together!
By 27km I was getting very cold and coughing every time I ran. My ankle was holding up but starting to ache a bit. The Plan was adjusted again. Walk. Keep walking. Just keep walking.
We got put on the footpath at this stage which was a relief because it was a bit more sheltered from the wind. It was harder to remember my hydration plan without the run/walk cues but I kept drinking whenever I remembered and having my gels on the hour. Once again there was very little water for the slowest runners. It was disgraceful and one of the reasons I'll really think very hard about running my home state marathon again.
It was such a relief to get off the beach, up the hill and on to St Kilda Road. I was very worried about the time - I was trying to move as quickly as I could but there were no f***ing km signs so I couldn't gauge my speed. I got talking to a lovely man who told me he'd been in the army and I was going about as fast as they'd expect to do a route march (about 6km an hour I think?). He may have been lying but it cheered me up at a time when every low fence and bench was an invitation to stop....stop...stop....stop....
You can stop when you've finished. Only about two hours to go.
Hi Suck, still here? We're having quite a day out, aren't we?
I was cold, I was hurting, I was never so tired in my life. But I never went to this-is-too-hard-I-give-up despair. I was always, always focusing on what I needed to do to make it home. I never cried and I stayed peaceful- except when I saw a marshall giving away a bottle of the only water I'd seen since 27km to a random passer-by (ahem, leaving a box of water by the side of a popular exercise track is not providing a water-station to slower runners, it's providing free drinks to every f***er on a Sunday workout) - then, I confess, I did my nut at him for a short energy-wasting moment. Tool. The coughing had eased a great deal by the time we got to the gardens so after I'd walked the Shrine Hill I tried running one song/walking one again and it went ok. 4km to go. Run one, walk one, run one, walk one. Drink. Run. Walk.
I passed the place where I was sent the wrong way last year (resisting the urge to give an undeserved finger to the charming and helpful volunteers) and set off across the bridge. I knew my CR friends would be waiting and I started to get a bit sooky oh please be there, please be there, I need some help, I can't do this by myself any more and then they were there. In the distance I could see them pouring out down the steps and I started to tear up. As I got closer I could hear them yelling, and I saw them making an arch with their arms for me to run under. Thank you, my friends, from the very bottom of my heart. I'll never, ever forget that moment. The feeling of being home again and cared-for and somehow safe again was so strong and filled me with such energy that when the workmen who were blocking the road with their truck said I'd have to go around it (WELL HI CAPTAIN OBVIOUS) I replied, no mate, I'll go through!
Around the corner I saw the lovely lovely 41km sign, my favourite number in the world. Run one, walk one. Run one...and then I was nearly there so I unplugged myself (would you believe the last song was Tubthumping? I get knocked down, but I get up again, you're never gunna keep me down.... True!) and ran it in. Part of me was pissed off about the uphill finish but part of me was So F***ing Over running that I didn't care and just steamed up it. The Spousal Unit was yelling and waving and beaming at me from the stands so I ran harder. More than anything I was looking forward to crossing the line and lying down on the ground and crying my eyes out but my dear little Noddie was standing there with a cup of water for me so I didn't, just gave her a big hug instead. Eww Mummy you're all sweaty and yuck!
Done.(not taken at the finish line)
I was extremely happy and proud of myself at how I managed the day, under the circumstances, but my abiding realisation is that I really don't need to do stuff like that to myself any more. I know how tough I am. I have already told J, my Mum and the Mighty Emma - who finished in 7:15 with a pinched nerve that essentially left her with one-and-a-bit legs for the last 15km (as opposed to later, when we may or may not have both got completely legless, I admit nothing) - to remind me next year that I will not be entering Melbourne if I have a chest infection between July and September. I'll happily blow the early-bird discount to avoid an experience like VSM#5.I'm not saying I don't think I should have done it. I made the best decision I could at the time and really, even though it was a long difficult day, I got through it and quite well too. Life isn't about only doing easy things or being successful or avoiding suffering. It's a source of great satisfaction to me that I'm (ahem) strong and healthy enough (don't laugh!) to toe the line and face down 42.2. I'm happy I did VSM#5 and that it worked out as well as it did. Now I have quite a lot of uni to catch up on - and a trip to America to plan! Life is good.More anon, goofy challengers :)

Home again

6.25.09
Hardest thing I've ever done.
Ankle fine.
Happy.

Hi ho

So here we are. I'm typing away here, slurping down tea and icing my ankle one last time before I catch the train to the Big Smoke and Very Slow Marathon #5. That came around quickly....
I really have no words, so I'll nick those of the mighty Emma, my comrade in Stupid Determination:
there's a familiar turn of mind that anyone who has faced the marathon will know. I am alternating between "Ohshitohshitohshit, we're all going to die!" and "Who the hell am I to even consider running a marathon?" Good luck to my friends who are facing down the big 42.2 this weekend. Remember, it's a long way and it's going to hurt a lot.
Ok darl, I'll remember.
Wish me luck, eh?More anon, nervous grinners!

Inspiration

Righto.
Thanks to the above-and-beyond efforts of the darling allied health staff at my work, the recollection of which brings tears to my eyes, I have been given a chance of starting on Sunday. The physio said my ankle has a grade 1 strain (the most desirable sort I gather) and that we did exactly the right thing icing and strapping the expletive out of it straight after The Fall sorry I can't believe I wrote that - quick, blame the ibuprofen! I was given therapeutic ultrasound and some exceptionally elaborate strapping which I will need to consult a manual on advanced papier-mache to duplicate. I went for a short run/walk last night, as directed and despite being almost nauseous with anxiety, and there was only a little soreness and no swelling. I am told that these are good signs. I'm seeing the physio again today.
So The Plan Is This:
Act As If it's all going ahead. Have another short run this morning, as directed, and hydrate like a lunatic, especially considering the ibuprofen. Final decision on Saturday.
Most importantly, I need to prepare all my Important Race Crap (TM)
This of course includes gels ALL HAIL THE MIGHTY NUTRITION PLAN!, adorned with inspirational sayings. A girl's gotta eat, after all. And read.
hence, faithful readers, I am once again appealing for the pithy sayings and mottos that fire you up, cheer you up and make you believe that even if you don't actually believe you can complete whatever ludicrously task you are attempting, you might as well keep plugging away at it for the time being.
So far I have
Why not?
One more step. One more km. One more marathon
It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog
and from the late Steve Jobs, Stay hungry. Stay foolish.
Share your wisdom with me, my friends! And fingers crossed, eh?

More anon, my treasures.

stay tuned

I stepped off the front verandah about an hour ago and on to Noddie's skateboard. Went down like a sack of spuds. Currently icing a very painful and swollen ankle.
More anon, teeth-gritters.

But of course

- I appear to be getting a head cold, complete with sore throat, a headache and aching joints. @#&%!!! Bring on the echinacea and vitamin C, I say, and we'll see who rusts first!
- my old sunnies turned on me in my last couple of long runs. Can your forehead gain weight? So I went to the bike shop in a panic - it is only 5 more sleeps until TBLRCU arrgghh excuse me whilst I repair beneath my desk and rock back and forward for a bit - and my style advisor (Noddie) told me to buy these so I did. - J has organised himself at the VERY last minute to come along and spectate. I am very happy about this....in a way.....I won't go into details but it's a good thing he is a big sweety and my helpmeet in life's vicissitudes because having to choke down disappointed, let-down rage for weeks does my head in and takes a day or two to get over.
- my shoes died! Noooooooooo!!! I have a new pair of the same model in the wardrobe which I will be wearing around the clock between now and Sunday. I'd rather have blisters than a sore knee.
- when I looked at the wear pattern on my old shoes I realised why my knee was hurting. @#&%!!! and grrrrrrrrr!!!That was when I discovered that you don't have to go to the podiatrist to get your orthotics adjusted. A paring knife and a hammer will do just as well.
- the weather on Sunday is looking gorgeous. This is Not Good News for Team Stupidly Determined. We like it cool and would be more than satisfied with downright chilly. The winds about which the skinnyfasts whinge are as naught to us. Thank goodness for the mighty Hydration Plan is all I'm saying.
More anon, taper lunatics!

Awakening

Noddie and I are back from three splendid days in the Big Smoke, shopping and culture-vulturing and cheering at the Grand Final parade and eating things we don't have at home like sushi and Vietnamese pork rolls and good Chinese food in groovy little cafes an arm-width wide. Noddie was absolutely thrilled with our hotel - not only did we get to eat breakfast In A Restaurant - what could possibly be more awesome? - but there was a gym on the second floor where she could try all the machines while Mummy ran on the treadmill.
It was here, dear readers, that your heroine had an epiphany. It's been a very long time since I've run in front of a mirror. As I ran, I had to look at myself. And do you know what I saw? I saw heavy and bloated and tired and sad.
I look how I feel.
You may have noticed that I've been very down these last couple of months. If you haven't, it's becuase I have been functioning on manufactured "up", fuelled with food and wine. That mirror told me that I can't do it any more. I have to start using coping strategies that don't involve food and drink. I told J how bad I've been feeling and he's going to help me.
There are eight more sleeps until TBLRCU. I couldn't feel less like doing it but I'm going to. In the world of the Stupidly Determined Very Slow Marathoner, guts overcome fear and faith conquers doubt. Which is good because I couldn't be more doubtful or scared. But you know what I say to that? Scared schmared is what I say. More anon, rock stars!