Good news!

No surgery!
Just getting my breath back. Will post soon about What It All Means
More anon, happy facers!

what if....

I'm very worried about what the sports doc will say tomorrow. Part of me doesn't want to know.
But then again, not knowing and just worrying isn't terribly amusing.

More anon, honeybuns!

Sweet relief

Since last we spoke, dear readers, your heroine has
i) been to the printer's, the post office and the coffee shop to collect, despatch and celebrate the departure of the Thesis That Ate My Life in the proper fashion
ii) continued to celebrate the departure of the Thesis That Ate My Life in the proper fashion with a party filled with food and laughing and chatter and kids running around jumping on the trampoline and playing with lego. Possibly a few sherbies were consumed by those of appropriate vintage. I admit nothing.
iii) changed none of her recent exercise habits.

We are off to Melbourne on Wednesday for a flying visit to the paediatric dermatologist (for the Nodster, poor little thing) and also the sports physician (gulp) at which possibilities for the future will no doubt become more clear.

More anon, bradypodidae!

Marathon Sunday

Today is a strange day. It's Melbourne Marathon day. Some of my friends are racing. It's a beautiful day for a hitout, not too warm but not blowing a gale and pouring like yesterday. They'll go well.
I'm going to finish my thesis today. Apart from some minor alterations when my supervisor sends it back on Wednesday, it will be done. It's only hours away (assuming I stop faffing around on the internet) but I cannot actually imagine it.
It's been a full year since I raced.
This is the first year since 2004 that I haven't been at Melbourne.
My appointment with the sports physician is on the 24th.
I don't know who reads this blog or what you do to have a big amazing life (Share! Share!), but if you ever get the idea that you might like to run in a race, then do it! Make it a big one. Be with other big dreamers. They're your people.
And if you think, one day I'd like to do a marathon, then go for it! Running up a marathon finishing chute is one of the best feelings in the world.

Go for it, my friends.
Dream big. Be amazing.
More anon

Breathing in, breathing out....

Since my thesis supervisor's response to my first draft changed from "just a few comments' to 'still a lot to do'  It's due on Thursday aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!! I have to say that I have found this surprisingly difficult to do.
Current mottoes, clung to like lifebuoys by a drowning person:
P's get degrees
Just keep writing, just keep writing
Only another week and then it's all over
and of course 

Have you got any other bits of HTFU/never say die/JFDI you big la-la for me? I'd be very grateful.
You know what though? I'll be ok whatever happens. I know where my towel is.

More anon

Things to think about

This post was so whiny and filled with self-pity and woe-is-me that I have deleted it. Except for the shoes
.
.
.
.
Oh look! Shoes!

mine, all mine, my pretties.......

The thing you don't want to hear

...your physio say the specialists at Olympic Park sports medicine have access to the best orthopaedic surgeons......
.
.
.
Look! Shoes!

More anon, optimists!

open letter

Dear LBTEPA
please please please pleeeaasse stop kidding yourself. Things are not improving. They are getting worse and worse - every time you (ahem) 'run', even at that paltry level and for that paltry distance, the soreness and niggles are more intense and last for longer. You can feel it all the time now, even as you're sitting there writing. Walking is getting more painful. You need to admit that the experiment hasn't gone as you hoped. It's time to stop running, darl, right now, before things are even more buggered up. You gave it a good shot, and you were careful and patient. It should have worked and it might have worked but it's pretty clear now that it didn't. On Monday you need to ring the physio and ask for that referral.
It's not the end of the world though, mate. It sucks and I'm very scared and worried too, but we'll get through it, I know
(((hugs)))
your ankle
PS I'm sure it will be ok. Eventually.

Did I tell you I was thinking of taking up cross-stitch?

More anon, thumbelinas!

Since last we spoke

Since last we spoke, dear readers, I have been Out For A Run four times. What? you gasp, Why weren't we told? Why were there no fanfares and fireworks?
Well the thing is this: there are two things actually, don't confuse me. Thing 1: by (ahem) 'Run' I mean walk 50 steps run 20 steps for not more than 15 minutes. Try that for a while, if you want to DO YOUR HEAD IN.
But LBTEPA, you soothe (aren't you nice?) you've had a long lay-off. You have to start small. Be patient. From little things big things grow etc etc etc.. And haven't you been outside? In the sunshine and the fresh air? How nice is that? This is true, my friends. You are right, as always (you're great!). Being outside is one big happy bundle of Hello There Good Things I've Missed You!
But onto Thing 2, as we must. My physio has laid it down that this slow cautious teeny tiny very patient and disciplined program is to See What Happens. It's been more than five months since the Great Prawn Disaster; if my ankle can't tolerate slow cautious teeny tiny etc etc (ahem) 'running' without pain, then it's off to the Specialists in the Big Smoke becuase she has got nuffin' left. Nuffin. It's not going well right now. My ankle is sore and niggly all the time. A tip for the more anxious among my five faithful readers: don't g00g1e 'persistent ankle pain post chip fracture'. Just don't.
But LBTEPA is doggedly remaining in the Too Early To Tell Zone. I can Not Know Yet and be ok with that. I have to. Worrying and worrying is doing my head in and there are loads of other things queueing to do that.
In other news, I have just made the final couple of weeks of the Thesis That Ate My Brain insanely more difficult. Through sheer stupidity. No one to blame but me. You see, I sent the first draft off to my supervisor and waited until yesterday (the agreed date) for her reply... which was, hi could you send me the first draft please as we have only 2 weeks until it's due
.
.
.
It was in the draft folder. I'd pressed save instead of send. Now I'll have six days instead of 13 to fix it and get it bound and sent off. Thinking about it makes me feel sick.
This morning blogger ate the hilarious and pithy post I was writing this morning as a treat insted of folding the washing and I bawled my eyes out.
I just want to cry and cry and eat and eat all the time but a) I have to go to work and b) I've already gained so much weight that it's interfering with my rehab (my physio said) and my pretty summer clothes don't fit and I don't need another dunk in the look-what-you've-done-you-have-no-self-control-you-loser barrel. Not today anyway.
It's hard to blog at the moment becuase the inside of my head is such a mess. Here's a photo of an elephant instead

More anon, glitterati!

Lost in Translation

The other day I was wrestling with the Thesis That Ate My Brain and I kind of...er... got into a bit of a tizzy, as you do, or well I do, and I started to Worry About Things. Ankle Things. Will this bloody thing ever get better Things. Have we reached crunch time or is there still hope Things (told you I was in a tizzy). So I rang my physio and asked her - or so I thought. I must have been speaking tizzyspeak becuase her response was all about my going to Melbourne for a second opinion if I wasn't happy with hers, (?!?!?!), reports for insurance claims (??!!??!?), etc etc etc. Eventually I managed to stammer out my actual question: have we reached the point of no improvement vis-a-vis the Stupid Ankle, or is it too early to tell? All my fingers are crossed for B, I'm giving you the drum. The physio explained that to date we have been focusing on rest, and now it's time to start loading the ankle more to see what happens (that sounds like B, don't you think? Woot!), but I can still go to Melbourne for a second opinion etc etc etc. How embarrassment. That'll teach me. All I really wanted to know was whether I should put my marathon medals in the cupboard and start giving away my shoes.

 

or possibly buying some new ones. You never know.

More anon, babel-fishers!

Where in the world is LBTEPA?

I don't know that the full import of my last post imparted itself to my five faithful readers.
I WENT FOR A RIDE ON MY BIKE.
I WENT OUTSIDE.
ON MY OWN.
AND WORKED UP A SWEAT.
OUTSIDE.
ON MY OWN.
ON MY BIKE.
FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE MAY. 
Just writing that put the most massive grin on my face, and I'm currently this ( - ) close to handing in the first draft of the Thesis That Ate My Brain howwillIgetitdonebytomorrwarrgghhh? so it's only the most fabulous thoughts that can plaster a smile on this dial. Hello bike = helloooo instant good mood!!! My family plans to present my physio with a plaque to express their gratitude. It's pretty quiet where I live. A morning ride to the gym might involve seeing perhaps two cars, but instead some pretty mist over the parks and the river valley. There are cockatoos and lorikeets. It's coming up to magpie season but I'll deal with that. You can't bring me down off my high. Oh my friends, my friends, how I have missed that wonderful spinning-along feeling and the hum of the tyres as you ease on down the road. Do you ride a bike? Do you like it? Why? Share!

In other news, LBTEPA's family and friends are deeply saddened to advise her readers that apart from the odd velocipedic outing, gung-ho workout ninja LBTEPA has been reported missing, presumed gone troppo. They blame society.
There have been rumours as to her fate

and even sightings, although none from verifiable sources.

 A search party has been despatched

but really all we can do is hope for the best and trust in the old LBTEPA pluck to bring her safely home.
More anon, whip-crackers!

So I went for a ride on my bike

That is all.

More anon, wooters!

Cluck!

NEWS FLASH! DATELINE TUESDAY: A reporter from the LBTEPA Times has today announced that our heroine's physio has given LBTEPA permission to ride her mountain bike!!! LBTEPA's bike, not the physio's. Do pay attention. For one thing she's a short lady so it would be too small. Said riding is to occur for not more than 30 minutes every second day, to see what happens. Any ankle pain means stop stop STOP STOP RIGHT NOW NO NO NO VERY BAD. This is Very Exciting News - I haven't been on a proper bike since May! This is the start of getting my life back!

So has your heroine in fact been out on her bike?
She has not.
 And why is that, my five faithful readers may rightly ask?
Welll... brace yourself for some lame excuses, 'cause they're on the way....
I've been sick. The thing with sinus infections these days, as I believe I have mentioned before, is that since the re-bore I no longer wish to saw off my own head within minutes of the germs assaulting my immune system.  It takes me much longer to notice that I've been dragging myself around doing the absolute minimum family maintenance,  not exercising and wishing I was dead NOT because I am slack and lazy and unable to handle stress (I had a uni assignment returned to re-do and I cried for an hour. At work. Thank goodness it was Friday afternoon and the place was almost deserted) but because I'm actually very very crook.

Aaand the LBTEPA Award for the Most Wonderful Thing Ever Invented goes to....ANTIBIOTICS!!!

I've also been pretty busy at uni as you can see from the above. This situation will ease in due course though, sometime in December. I hope.
*LBTEPA has left the room to bang her head on the desk and think about wine and shoes. We appreciate your patience. Normal service will resume shortly*

I saw this car last time I was in Melbourne. The number is now on my speed dial. 

Blah blah blah excuses excuses, pictures to distract you from excuses, it's been unbelievably windy and raining a lot and J has been on late shift blah blah blah. Wanna know the real reason I haven't been out on my bike?

Yes, give the lady a free ticket to Sooky La-La Land on the Spineless Express! What if it hurts? What if it's not properly better? You know what? What if? So what? I will go today, I promise. I'll take a photo for you, if I don't fall off.
More anon, cluckers!

JFWS

I've been falling into that blogger black hole where you don't have time to write the usual epic so you don't write anything, then you haven't written anything for ages so you Owe The Readers a particularly jaw-dropping bit of epic prose but you don't have time for that and on it goes. I'm at the unpleasantly crunchy end of my thesis and after mumblemumbleOMFGhasitbeenthatlong years of formal education I do Know One Thing about writing: you have to write something. Just Write Something is my motto with the Thesis That has Eaten My Life and is now Eating My Brain (don't expect any sense out of me in the next six weeks no no nooooooo), and henceforth it shall also be my blogging motto.
So
As my five faithful readers are aware, this is a sort-of endurance sport blog, not a weight-loss blog. However, I want to share one of those make-a-face moments - I got a new ID card yesterday for my new placement (that's I'm doing while I finish the Thesis That is Eating My Brain. The placement is at the local psychiatric ward which I think is apt). I put it on the doover with my work ID card. The two photos were taken about two years apart, and the second one is as flattering as the first (there are some gifted photographers in East Gippsland HR). But the new one still looks like the old one's fat ill much older sister. My sugar (fermented and otherwise)-based stress-management strategy is showing. I have no portrait in my attic. Must look into that.
In other news:
I go back to the physio today to see how close I am to going outside. Gosh I miss riding my bike. I'm a bit upset at the moment becuase my other foot - the one that went bung last year - is hurting again!  I went to Melbourne last week and walked all day (YAY!) in flat boots with no arch supports (doh) so maybe that's it. I love my boots though. I am blessed with extremely shapely calves so finding boots that both do up and are appropriately fabulous is a challenge.

In other other news: hurrah! Hurrah! IT'S SPRING!!! We went to the beach on the boat on Sunday. It was brilliant.

Obligatory Exercise News: 2 trips to the gym and 2 swims this week. Must. Do. Better.
More anon, blossoms!

The Perils of LBTEPA

See this? It's a very dangerous exercise known as a static lunge with a band. I was doing this yesterday at the gym (although certainly not wearing head-to-toe brown, nor brown of any kind for that matter. Please.) as part of my very first go at my Exciting New Program at the Temple of Sweat. I like my program, for the most part. I like gyms. I like the machines and the clanking and the little adjustable knob thingos. I may just have a teeny crush on the rowing machine - so much more fierce than the stationary bike! I don't even mind the Noise The Young'uns Call Music These Days
But I don't like static lunges with bands.
I got this picture from g00gle images. There aren't any pictures of what it's like when the band slips out from under your foot and smacks you in the eyes.

Ow.

The muscular tatooed bloke on the next machine swore and got the gym attendant to bring some ice. I didn't swear, nor did I cry (until I got home), because that is the LBTEPA Way. My eye is still a bit swollen this morning and I have a bit of a headache, but I am going back this afternoon to finish that damn workout.

I'm sure I ticked the "all exercises must be 100% nuffy-proof" box on my assessment. Le sigh......

More anon, Ironsides!

Stardate Sunday

I must write swiftly. Since Starship LBTEPA crash-landed on the Plague Planet I have been the slave of the Plague Monsters and they may call for me at any time. Their demands are unceasing. The only blessing is that I have not been infected. This means that if I plan carefully I can sometimes experience a semblance of freedom, even if only for a short time. The blossoms here are lovely and give me such joy. Other slaves to the Plague Monsters tell me this planet is not so bad, and that it will be warmer soon.  They have accepted their fate. I fear becoming like them. I know the monsters are coming to value my labour, even to almost feel affection for me. I have taken some advantage of this and made my way to the Temple of Sweat as often as I can, but I must be careful.
I will get stronger. I will escape.
They are calling me - I must go!

More anon, stargazers!

one of the first images sent from Mars

as you do

In which LBTEPA realises that There Is Enough, and that Being Fabulous is always the best policy. 

Dear Blog
Since I started going to deep water running I've been thinking oh I must join up at the gym, if I get a corporate membership it would cost less than one class and one swim a week... oh come now what a waste of money I have a perfectly good mat and weights and a set of core and strength exercises and a bike on rollers at home... oh but I am so borrrrrrred with that but if I was more disciplined I could do it ... but classes sound like fun........as you do.
The other day I was prodded in the back by the wise, serene and gentle sages of the LBTEPA Think Tank (Philosophical and Spiritual Division) who pointed out in no uncertain (yet serene and gentle) terms that I was not treating the universe as a place of abundance, where There Is Enough for things that matter, and also (equally calmly and wisely) that I was giving a low priority to my health and emotional wellbeing. Continuing ever so serenely on (I have to say they were starting to give me the pip by this stage), the sages pointed out that if I insisted on being so venal as to fixate on the finances, then I might like to channel my attention (see? Pack of bloody hippies. Sheesh.) toward the fact that a) kicking my twice-weekly takeaway coffee habit  and bringing my lunch to work a couple of times would more than cover it and b) a year's gym membership is about the same as the medicare out-of-pocket for a couple of scans and specialists' visits, which I'm less likely to need over the next decade if I get properly fit again.
To sum up (and I thought this was rather brusque: I may write a stiff letter) they said
You like going to the gym
You can afford it
You need to get out more
Stop bleating and sign up
So I did!!
It's been great fun, although rather confronting to have to (ahem) confront the mumblemumblemumble kgs of extra lard I've been ignoring. I must be the only person to have gained weight doing Dry July (I DID IT! I DID IT! AND YOU CAN STILL DONATE TO THIS GREAT CAUSE!!!) Damn you, mirrored pilates studio! Oh well. It is how it is and I'm buggered if finally making eye contact with my spare tyre will stop me from pumping iron again. Sing it with me, ladies - body shame is temporary;  fabulousness is forever!
I have to go to the physio now to check how The Ankle is going. This is scary* but not as bad as the dentist yesterday which I got through without crying or throwing up. Go me.

More anon, Olympic addicts!!
I LOVE the Olympics. I'd ALMOST get cable for the Olympics. Really.

Did you see the finish of the women's triathlon (and by 'see' I mean scream yourself hoarse at the tv)?What's not to love? 

*Ankle Update: Physio is happy. All is progressing as it should be. If I keep up the standing on one leg (which is Quite Tricky), all should be tickety-boo in due course!!Yay!!

MBPE

In what is possibly the Most Boring Post Ever - apart from all the woe is me I am so sad this is so hard ones - so ok possibly nowhere near the Most Boring Post Ever, but certainly not very interesting to anyone except me; but then it is my blog (but I digress) I have finally realised why I literally dread the thought of going swimming even though I always enjoy it when I get there.
You see, I used to be a very good swimmer. People think I am still (I had an irritiating argument with my dear Spousal Unit on that topic just the other day) but I know I'm not. I'm a good swimmer technically and also compared to non-swimmers, but I am so far from my notion of good swimming shape that I can only just see it on the horizon at noon if I squint . The problem is that I can see it, and that I know exactly how far it is from Here to There (a bloody long way, to use the technical term), and that distance is what I see when I think about going to the pool. Not the half an hour immediately ahead of me, but the weeks and weeks and weeks of feeling unco-ordinated and unfit and finding time around J's shifts and the lane-hogging local swim-squad to fit it in. Another job. Another failure to suck up. Another Bloody Slog to get back something I've lost because I was SO SLACK (aka I am a real person with a real life with priorities and frailties aka I Hate Myself Because I'm Not Superwoman). Le Sigh....
At this stage I don't know what I'll do with this new-found insight, but I always think change is easier when you actually know what you're dealing with.

More anon, philosophers!

Flick

I don't know what the physio said on Wednesday that has Changed Everything, but a switch has been flicked, from Injured and sad and bleaty and a burden to others to Getting Ready To Run Again. Seven or eight more weeks of swimming and deep water running and bike-on-the-rollers and core work and weights and stretching and standing on one leg which is quite tricky and no heels?

Bring.
It.
On.

Except the heels. That's not good. But then I'm going to Melbourne next week, for a prostate cancer conference. Don't I have the best fun? There could be some fab flats there, if such a thing exists. In Melbourne. Not at the conference. Please try to focus.

More anon, dollfaces! And stand back.....

Question, questions

Where have I been? It's been nearly two weeks and really...I've been nowhere, done nothing. I feel as though I'm floating aimlessly, whilst simultaneously moving in ever-decreasing circles.
Will I ever be able to establish an exercise routine again? God I hope so. I feel sad and flabby and dispirited and a failure
How good is feeling strong? I remember it. I remember feeling motivated and organised and happy. I just can't quite work out how to get back there from here at the moment.
Isn't it funny how it's the idea of a daunting task that we fear rather than the task itself? Doubting your own ability to do something new is so tiring but it's hard to overcome until you actually get stuck into things... *slaps self on head for faffing on* that was a long-winded faux-philosphical way of saying, this sobriety thing isn't as hard as I expected. I've even managed an unaccompanied 300km round-trip with my mother-in-law without succumbing to the siren call of the port barrel. You can still sponsor me though. It hasn't been that easy. Just click here! You know you want to!
Will I ever get to go outside, by myself, for a pleasant sweat again?
Will my ankle ever get better?
Will I ever run again? I do so want to run again. I drive up the hill I used to steam up and I say to myself, I will do that again. I. WILL.
What will the physio say this afternoon?
Was buying this on ebay an over-reaction to a major blue with my dear Spousal Unit?

I think we all know the answer to that one...

More anon, sonic screwdrivers!