The new routine/ the sun/ shiny new kicks.

5:10 - Hit snooze on 5:10 alarm in my sleep.
5:15 - Hit snooze on 5:15 alarm in my sleep.
5: 17 - Hit snooze on snooze alarm from 5:10 alarm in my sleep.
5: 20 - Angrily open one eye to find snooze for 5:20 alarm.
5:20:04 - Close said eye, silently vowing to never, ever get out of bed.
5:21 - Remove purring cat from face.
5:21:10 - Remove purring cat from face again. Throw purring cat across room.
5: 22 - Hit snooze on 5:15 alarm's snooze while pretending to still be asleep.
5: 24 - Remove purring cat from face. Turn off snooze from 5:10 snooze's snooze.
5:25 - Remove purring cat from face. Turn off 5:25 alarm. Get out of bed. Pull on running clothes. Brush teeth. Search bedroom floor for two of the same sock.
5:27 - Run back to bathroom to silence evil snooze from 2:20 alarm. Pull on Shiny New Kicks. Mess with laces for a while.
5:29 - Silence 5:15 snooze's snooze's snooze. Drink some water.
5:30 - Meet Luke outside. Run a bit. (Roommate is injured and ices her ass each night while she does her chemistry, so Luke and I are running without her for a while.)


In other news, I am going to sunny California for the weekend to visit Boyfriend. I plan to do my 20-mile run in plain view of the ocean, wearing nothing but shorts, a sports bra, underwear, socks and Shiny New Kicks.

...which reminds me, I haven't discussed my Shiny New Kicks yet. I purchased them at Runner's Soul in Downtown Spokane after a tedious process of trying on and trying out about 20 pairs of shoes. I chose the Brooks Glycerine 7, which looks like this:










It's a neutral shoe with lots of sexy and extra cushion. It fits snugly around my foot all the way with a little extra room lengthwise in the toe. Heel slips a little, but much less notably than in my previous shoes. Lots of mesh makes them super breathable. Have I mentioned they're super sexy?

I paid $125 + tax for them. This also happens to be the amount they go for online, give or take $0.05. I had not one, but two employees offering me information about what I should be looking for, what they thought about the different shoes, and even how I could tie my laces to minimize my eternal heel-slipping problem. I also got to take each pair I tried on a test run outside.

After you spend $500 at the store (or 4 pairs of this shoe, which should be replaced every 3-4 months at my current average mileage), you get a $50 gift certificate. Assuming I stick with this store, which is more than likely, I ultimately get the shoes 10% cheaper than I would online. And I get real, live, knowledgeable customer service from good-looking people.

Runner's Soul happens to also keep a comprehensive online calendar of local running events and put on/sponsor its own runs. I betcha Zappo's never told you nuthin' about where to find a group run on the weekend.

ab fab.

I can see them! Faint little lines that indicate where, underneath they pudgy byproduct of too much candy, my abdominal muscles reside. When it comes to getting my ass out of bed to run in the morning (and skipping the cheese on my pizza), motivational self-talk doesn't hold a candle to the glimmering possibility of seeing my long-lost abs.

"NO!" ...ahh, that has a nice ring to it.

Now officially on the Roomate & Luke training program, I am doing the 5am thing regularly. By that, I mean I started today and plan to keep it up.

But here's the thing: I need to sleep. Operating on less than six hours of sleep is akin, for me, to having a mild hangover, which is akin to having soul-sucking leeches feeding on my brain. Not the ideal condition in which to show up at work.

So I'll be learning to say "no" to that one extra thing (or eight) that I tend to try to fit into my day in the interest of getting my runs in, finishing my freelance work on schedule, showing up for fancy-shoe-store work bright and chipper, cooking and eating real food, and breathing. All before I go to bed at 10:00. I could also use some time to do housework, take care of my bike (which I was scolded for not doing yesterday), play with my cat, read, paint... all those things my imaginary friend, who posesses time management skills, does without me while I am out being overcommitted to nothing in particular and certainly not to my own sanity.

Heaven.

"I am sleepy. I am grumpy. I want some chocolate," I lamented to Roommate while foraging through the barren land that is my refrigerator. But alas, halves of onions and packets of tofu are the only company my condiments keep.

"I will have to go to the store and buy some Rice Dream (ice cream made of rice)," I moaned, "but I am so sleeee-" I was unable to finish my lament, because she rather rudely interrupted me to say:

"12 oz. soy milk
3 tbsp. unsweetened cocoa (supplied by Roommate)
3 tbsp. sugar (I used 2 because my soymilk is sweetened)

Heat slowly on the stove while stirring with a whisk."

magic. the nutty taste of soymilk beautifully complements the heaven that is sugary cocoa. Thanks, Roommate!

yo(-del-ay-ee-)ga! + Komen

Exciting things happening in my life:

1) Yoga tonight. For the first time in WEEKS. The impending agony is my entire current reason for living.
2) Komen Race for the Cure on Sunday. That means I have to figure out how to pace for a short distance. ...stat.

Halvsies.

I dearly love to run. I do not, however, fancy severe barfiness for hours after a mere training run. I went for my scheduled 17 miler yesterday and could not eat lunch. I mostly just wanted to nap for the rest of eternity. And barf (which I did not, in the end, do).

This I took as an indication that the 1.5 weeks I took off from an already short training period were 1.5 weeks I really needed to be ready to run a marathon (well) in a month.

I think I could do it. I mean, I did the 17 miles yesterday. But. I do not want to injure myself and miss out on running outdoors during the gorgeous Spokane summer I've been looking forward to all winter. Meeting my time goal for the marathon is also out; I averaged around a 10-minute mile for yesterday's run and completely spent my energy (although I feel really good today).

So here's Plan B (not abortion, but prevention!): I am signing up to run the Windermere's half marathon. Luckily, I held off on registering to see how I recovered.

That gives me a full month to get my 13.1 miles down to a time I'm happy with. And I'm setting my sights on running a mid- or late-June full marathon.

At the very least, I feel like I'm being kind to myself. Although, I have to say it's hard to concede that I haven't been committed enough (I had been slacking off on training before the injury), and that I'm not (yet!) fast enough, strong enough, or disciplined enough, given how completely I wrap my lifestyle and identity around being an athlete; particularly a runner.

So I'll take it as a lesson to only bite of slightly more than I can chew, rather than trying to prove some nonexistent superhumanity. "Time your injuries well" is an ex-marathoner acquintance of mine's motto: there's gotta be room in the schedule for injury recovery, lest one find oneself in the bind I have found myself in.

Aforementioned (embarrassing/hilarious) amputation poetry.

a cold appendage is all you are

swollen, log-like

indifferent to touch.

putrid pale yellow leg

turquoise-blue sausage toes

do what you’ve always done

and get on with it.

i want you off! disjointed.

a pile of anonymous bits

tossed in the dumpster

alongside frozen hearts

drowned livers

long since replaced by living parts.

allegiance cramped your style

or so you said. well, look at you now!

we are both only still here hoping

for blood flow, a pinch, a feeble step.

but come on. i know dead when i smell it.

lookin' good in purple, blue, and puffy.

I miss running like I miss childhood innocence. But alas, I have royally f***ed up an essential part of my marathon training: my right leg.

Last Saturday, I bruised my shin quite badly in a soccer game. And by that, I mean someone's steel foot met my shin at about 100mph, producing a grapefruit-sized protrusion on my lower leg. Said protrusion has since disappeared and the area hardly looks bruised--although it hurts to even run a razor over the area in the shower. All the blood seems to have sunken to my inner ankle, which would currently be better described as a grape-flavored cankle.

"Still," you say, "What kind of whimp skips out on running 'cuz she's got a bruise?!"

Well, I didn't at first. It looked much better the following day, so I joined Roommate for a lovely evening run. I woke up the next morning cursing the planets for the unfamiliar, excrutiating pain I felt in my once-favored appendage. I whined. I cried. I wrote amputation-themed poetry.

None of these activities seemed to be resolving the problem, so I eventually discussed it with my boss, who discussed it with her husband (a doctor). He said I probably did not need an amputation, but that increased bloodflow to the area and stress on the bruised muscle was going to hinder quick healing. I should, he advised, sit around eating ice cream as much as possible. And so I did. (Substitute "Rice Dream" for "ice cream.")

Things do appear to be improving, but I'm wondering how long this new regimen should last. Until Obama gives me health insurance so I can actually GO to the doctor? I hOpe not.

I've got shit to do; a marathon to train for. And an unsightly ring of fat is forming around my midsection. So I've determined to find myself some elasticy bandage substance, wrap up my leg real good and hit the pavement.

Roomate is from Montana and says "like hell" a lot. So, um. Like hell I'm gonna miss out on running in the toasy Mexican sun next week!