Okay, so I didn’t take the time to get a Trenta this morning. But not because I’m opposed to the concept! I just decided to work from home and not stop on the way to work.
Because I worked from home I discovered that my roommate does an elaborate quasi-yogic stretching routine in the mornings… right outside my window. Finally! Someone who looks crazier than I do!
Last night I went to a work happy hour and one of my coworkers was calling me out on the fact that I carried my gym bag to the bar, and was holding onto it throughout happy hour. “But you wouldn’t forget it!” Oh yes I would. I am that forgetful. I am just grateful that they make these things somewhat stylish these days.
I was talking to another coworker about this documentary I’m going to see on Sunday called “Town of Runners” and I definitely said something about how I was looking forward to it as a runner. I’m cringeing pretty hard right now. Oof.
Here is a thing that I want more than to lose weight: To consume pick-your-own frozen yogurt without trying to figure out and record exactly whether I put 1/2 tablespoon or 1 tablespoon of crushed Heath bars on it, et cetera ad infinitum. I need that brain power to figure out how to achieve world peace, guys! I’m just going to estimate high on the whole thing and give it a rest.
I’m going to read The 4-Hour Body this weekend because I read an excerpt from it that actually sounded useful and not douchey. I promise to give my honest opinion even though I thought The 4-Hour Work Week was all hype.
I will not be reading the book I just got a press release for whose title is something like Thin Caucasian Female. ‘Cause they’re just sooooo underrepresented.
I’ve started having marathon dreams already. Uh-oh.
If I had a nickel for every time a thin woman complained to me about how it’s so annoying that she gets hit on all the time…I would have a lot of nickels but no more self-esteem than when I started. ((Kanye shrug))
Today an acquaintance posted on Twitter about finding the Trenta size at a Starbucks in Brooklyn. I’ve only been looking for onefor over a year now because I’m fascinated by it as an Emblem Of Our Time and a scapegoat for “the obesity crisis.” Coincidentally, I have to be at work at 7AM tomorrow.
I’m going to drink ALL the iced coffee!!
Edited to add: Hopefully it won’t be so painful to lift my arms tomorrow that I can’t lift it.
Last week I went to a sports doctor to get my cranky calf checked out. (Long story short, my calf has been bothering me since the week after the New Orleans Half, plus a week of rest, plus denial, plus cross-training, plus an ill-advised 7.5-miler…)
Diagnosis: The doc said my problem was likely the combination of some kind of instant trauma (stepping off a curb, executing an unfamiliar movement) and the long-term effects of poor posture and tight hamstrings (slumping at my desk a lot, not stretching after running). Then when I go to run and stand up straight, it feels weird and I overcompensate for all that in weird ways.
Treatment: Anti-inflammatories, cross-training, gentle stretching, icing the muscle, and — trying to sit up straighter for longer. (The first two days I made a concerted effort to sit up straight at my desk, I ended up on my bed with a massive neckache. It gets easier, right?)
Progress: Is it better after a week of careful monitoring? … I don’t know, and that’s what worries me. Because it wasn’t bothering me uniformly before, I wasn’t really paying attention to what made it hurt. It still hurts on and off, and when it does I become convinced Everything Is Terrible and it Won’t Ever Get Better Ever,particularly after I’ve rested it. At the same time, I think it’s stepping down in severity. Last night I had a little twinge and when I went home I iced it for 20 minutes, and then it was over. Today I got up and when I hopped out of bed — no pain points, so I went to physician-approved spinning. (The teacher was terrible, but that’s not a medical issue. But seriously, if I want to listen to the same 3 terrible dance remixes with no instructions, I don’t have to go to a class to do that. I can make that badness happen by myself.) But, not out of the woods yet.
What it’s like to see a sports doctor for the first time: I was surprised at how easily this went. The doc (who I found randomly on my insurance provider’s site and picked on proximity to my office) was respectful and answered all my questions. He didn’t question my status as a sports-doing person, possibly because the first sentence out of my mouth was “So I ran a half-marathon a month ago and…” The only truly puzzling question he had for me was, “Would you say running a half-marathon was easy for you?” Wow… where to even go with that one. After he clarified, I understand that he was trying to ask something like, do I regularly experience pain or injury on longer-distance runs (I haven’t, historically), or how is my cardiovascular health (good I think?). Fun is a complicated word when it comes to running. I’d be willing to see him again.
So, to follow up: how long before I should see major improvement? I am just foolish enough to want to have Instant Results, although he told me I wouldn’t be completely back in it in under six weeks. But if it still hurts after two weeks, do I go back? Or how long before I seek a second opinion?
Actual question on the (exhaustive) intake form I filled out at the sports doc’s this morning.
More later, but upshot is I’m not broken and should be back up to full speed in under 6 weeks, so I’m a happy lady. And I had cheese with my breakfast of course (3 times? Try 6 out of the past 7 days. It’s a great life).
I haven’t run or done any weight-bearing exercises on my leg in a week, except walking as I normally would. Nevertheless, my calf has not gotten better. It is crazy to me how much it has not gotten better, and in the mean time I’ve been going insane with the possibilities. (THE INTERNET: “Going?”)
So, it’s off to the doctor! WebMD symptom checker, which I should never use, is calling it as either a blood clot in the leg (and yikes, but thanks to Go Tracy Go I am taking seriously) or a muscle strain, which was Pre-Dr. Sister’s diagnosis.
I’ll be seeing a sports medicine specialist even though the thought fills me with apprehension in two dimensions: On the x-axis the apprehension is measured by how serious the problem is, and on the y-axis by how much the doctor will listen to my concerns and respect me as a Person Who Does Sports. It took me a long enough time to find a primary care doc who saw me over the numbers, and even with her I was apprehensive about presenting myself as an athletic person.
If he pats me on the head and says “Just lose weight and it’ll be fine!” I will probably go on a Godzilla-style rampage through the streets of New York City. I am warning you now ‘cause I like you.
*On a cheerier note, I just learned this word and me gusta.
Notes from cross-training in the pool for the first time yesterday:
Ah, for the empty YMCAs of my youth! I don’t know why I was thinking I could just waltz in and take a lane, since there were only 4 (with 2 swimmers in each). I only waited about 10 minutes though, which is completely acceptable.
I’m not used to lane-sharing, but it went okay. My lane buddy, who looked like Diego Luna and clearly knew what he was doing (as opposed to me) kept pushing off at the center, but he always veered over in time.
Something I didn’t understand: Because of the demand, individual swimmers were limited to 30 minutes in a lane, with a lifeguard there to police the limit. Still, I saw a lot of swimmers do a length, then stand at the edge of the pool, catching their breath, shifting their goggles. Some of them were probably working on technique, but wouldn’t you want to be working as muchas possible with the time you have? Maybe I’m missing some secret swimmer code here.
Or maybe I just like to save my non-aerobic lollygagging for leisure time, I don’t know.
Can anyone explain to me how aquajogging works? Do you stand on the pool floor? Do you wear floaties? What? All I know about it is from the Deena Kastor segment of “Spirit of the Marathon.”
My regular gym doesn’t have a pool, so I had to go uptown to do this, to a gym in a skyscraper. The view from the pool deck was pretty amazing; otherwise this gym was a lot like the reg except it had a really nice sauna.
Anyway, it was a great arm workout until my foot cramped from holding the pull buoy and it took my entire leg with it — thus straining the muscle I was doing my best not to work at all. Argh! I went home and threw a heating pad on it, and it feels better today. I think that was just a fluke, but the search for rehab magic continues.
"Some research shows that exercise may stimulate reward centers in the brain, helping to ease cravings for drugs or other substances. But according to an eye-opening new study of cocaine-addicted mice, dedicated exercise may in some cases make it even harder to break an addiction."
Zeddie Little has a great attitude about being the Ridiculously Photogenic Guy. I hope he’s in my NYCM corral so his reflected light can shine down on me. (Swell of them to include the photographer, too.)
ETA: He’s running the marathon for the John Ritter Foundation, in case you want to make yourself look good (see what I did there?) and donate a few bucks in his honor.
When you use the phrase “it’s going to be one of those days” every single day it ceases to have meaning to me and I begin to doubt your ability to determine good from bad and wrong from right. What I’m saying is; perspective: get some.
I just have to say. I went out for my run leaving behind two angry and puzzled roommates who didn’t understand why I couldn’t do a shorter run or put it off so that I could wait at home for their subletter and help him move in while they went to IKEA. Their subletter. Come on, man! They didn’t even say please, just started acting like I was ruining their day because they couldn’t plan well enough I wasn’t able to drop everything.
I know a lot of people have more demands on their time than I do when it comes to working out, and I don’t mind helping my roommates with things. But I also need them to respect my time. Just because I don’t have a schedule doesn’t mean I don’t have stuff to do. (Also IKEA is open all day, I’m just saying.) Now they’re at home just freestyle bitching and I think I’m going to have to leave the house ahhhhhhhhhh.
Anyway, this run wasn’t great because for the first time in a while I fueled with oatmeal and this wasn’t a great choice for me. Maybe it was the milk? I felt uncomfortably full most of the way and right now have no desire to eat (when I would usually be housing a bagel). Oh well, back to bread and/or sandwiches. I also inadvertently mapped out a route that in the last 2 miles was downhill 1.5 and then uphill the last .5, leading to a fair amount of WHEE! followed by rapid lung death.
For all the negative stuff I am happy that I got out there and glad that I persevered.
Seen on my run:
A lot of good-looking restaurants and at least 3 “baking warehouses” with names like A1 Desserts To Eat Right Now
A ginormo cemetery, which I briefly considered turning into before realizing how bus it looked
A Nike Women’s Marathon T-shirt… on a man
A girl named Hammond (this man’s name trend has gone too far!)
Many people walking in the middle of the sidewalk such that I could not pass them on either side. These people will be sentenced to listening to me singing “Blow” in the shower on repeat until they see the error of their ways. (It’s not pretty.)
A man with a pretty amazing Afro
Brunch crowds… please kidnap me…
The new location of Freddy’s, a famous dive bar that was displaced for the new Brooklyn Nets arena (Barclay Center? I can’t even keep up)
A scary-looking bus depot
BULLDOG PUPPIES in Prospect Park that were so WOBBLY and SHINY OMG
TL;DR I ran 7.5 miles and I want to live alone, preferably with a bulldog puppy and near a lot of bakeries.