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!