Runner with a Drinking Problem

Up to this point, I think I’ve mastered the 5K.  Note that I did not say that I’ve “dominated” the 5K.  What I mean is that I can run 3.1 miles without much discomfort in a time that is average . . . okay probably a little below average.  Since I’m a teacher and I often think in terms of my students’ abilities to master a concept or skill, I guess I would give myself a C when it comes to running a 5K.  If I could get my time down to 10-minute miles and stay there, I’d give myself a B, but anyway, one of the great things about running a 5K is that I do not require water while I am running one.  At these races, there are usually water stations with gracious volunteers balancing paper Gatorade cups on their palms with anxious, inviting looks on their faces, almost pleading with you to take their cup.

“Water?” they ask. 

There’s that anxious look.  It’s saying, “You look beat, lady, you know you want some.”

“Pshhh. Please, I do not need water when I am only running for 32 minutes (Okay, sometimes 33 or 34 . . . and even 35 on a really bad day),” and I run right on by.

It’s all good.  Little race requires little water.  Awesome. 

Unfortunately, however, as time has rolled along and I’ve been busy working on being average, Darth Vader (my husband for those of you playing along) and some of my runner friends have magically gotten better (and by magically, I mean working their butts off . . . quite literally in most cases).  With this increase in abilities, these people want to run longer distances. The nerve!  Ugh.  Well, I am not a person who enjoys being left behind, so I have tagged along, dabbling in 10Ks and couple of different 5-mile distances . . . and one time I tried training for a half-marathon, a moment in time that I have chosen to block out for now.

One of the problems with this, aside from sore legs, achy joints, burning lungs and more time spent pounding the pavement, is the need for increased hydration WHILE you are running, especially if it’s hot, and especially if you are like me functioning in a half-dehydrated state on most days because you simply don’t drink enough water. 

Okay, so it sounds easy enough.  Take the water from the nice water-station lady instead of going by, right?  Right.  But have you ever tried drinking from a paper cup while running?  If you haven’t, grab a paper cup, fill it three-fourths of the way full, and then head outside and run while trying to drink it.  It’s okay. I’ll wait . . .

You spilled it all over yourself, didn’t you?  That is precisely what I am talking about.  It’s definitely an art or another skill that I am bound and determined to master if I’m going to keep running longer distances, and my experience in the Akron Marathon relay yesterday solidifies my main reason: to not look like an idiot in an attempt to stay hydrated.

So here’s the scene:  I’m running.  I’m thirsty.  I’ve gone approximately 3.5-4 miles. I’m at Highland Square, an area with lots of spectators on the route.  I’ve bypassed 2-3 hydration stations.  My tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth.  Must. Drink. Water.  I grab the cup and bend the lip into kind of a point because I remember Vader talking about this technique before he mastered the skill long ago. The problem is that I forgot to pay attention to the rest of the directions.  Oh well.  I put the point to my mouth and attempt to drink. 

I’m immediately overwhelmed by the sensation of suffocating!! The water not only filled my mouth, but my nose, too!  OMG. Disaster!

In a state of panic, I spit all of the water out and blew it all out of my nose (while still being careful not to soak the runner behind me, thank you very much).  I imagine that I looked like a horse that has just took a drink from a bucket or some kind of watering trough.  Sigh.

So add another skill to my list of items to work on while running. I give myself an F for water drinking.  Looks like I need some interventions or maybe a running IEP.  I guess I’ll start by getting the rest of those directions from my in-house tutor.

Until next time, I raise my paper cup to you all for reading! Cheers - - stand still before you drink!

Pens, Pencils, and Perturbed People

Over the past 2 days, I have heard of or personally witnessed 3 separate, very angry people from three different communities complaining about the lack of a high school supply list that comes home over the summer.  Each one, let me repeat, was very angry - - hostile even - - about the absence of a list.

My response (which I've kept to myself until now - - 'cuz I don't engage strangers in arguments):
1. Calm down.  Notebooks and pens are no reason to get all in a tizzy.
2. Think.  Your kid is going to have many different teachers - - like 7-8 at my school (woah!).  They all require different stuff.  They'll tell you what it is when you get there.  They really will, and they'll even give you a piece of paper with the supplies/materials all listed on there for you.  Your kid doesn't even have to listen or pay attention to the teacher when he/she tells the kids what they need for his/her class because it will be right there - - on a precious, precious list - - as long as your precious, precious kid brings it home.
3. Stop being so angsty about schools.
4. Check your school's website.  I'm willing to hazard a guess that many teachers have their supplies listed somewhere on their class page.  (I don't, but that's another story.)  If you have your kid's schedule - - check the pages, but be prepared for that list to change by the 1st day of school.  You never know when the teacher last updated the page.
5.  Don't refer to "those damned teachers" to a "damned teacher" or she will unleash her fiery rage upon you on Facebook (or her blog that gets very sporadic use - - like only when her facebook status starts to get too long) where there is no possible way for you to know that she secretly wishes that you trip and fall in a muddy pothole on your way to your car in the parking lot.

Don't make the teacher, who you don't know is a teacher, angry at Target!!

The end.

New Kicks, Katy Perry and a Ferocious Beast

I went running for 35 minutes today, and when I got back, sweat dripping in my eyes, face the color of my neighbor’s ripe tomatoes, Darth Vader (my husband, for those of you playing along) asks the usual, “How’d it go?” I’m almost 100% certain that he normally doesn’t listen for the answer, but today I came back with more than the obligatory, “Fine.”

“Well, I have, like, six stories. Which one do you want to hear first?”

 “Six stories?”

“Yes! That’s, like, a story every almost every five minutes! (I am a mathematical genius.) Where shall we start?”

For you, I will begin with the good news. The beginning of my run was dream-like - - especially for a person like me, who’s only partially committed and who usually can’t wait for the run to be over about five minutes after it begins. My love/hate relationship with running doesn’t just “run” deep, there are grooves and twists and turns that no normal person should have when it comes to putting one foot in front of the other. Basically, I am a head case, but that topic is for another time.

I attribute the awesomeness of the first mile partially to my new shoes and partially to Katy Perry - - for serious. First off, I don’t know if it’s all in my head or what, but a new pair of kicks can sustain me for a good couple of weeks of great runs. I mean I’m sure that a part of it is definitely real. My old shoes were over a year old, and the tread was worn thin from I don’t know how many miles on the road and treadmill. Darth Vader a new pair every 500 miles. This means that he gets a new pair of shoes about four times a year. That’s insane, right?

Good. I’m glad we agree. I might, with very, very strong emphasis on that “might,” get 500 miles in a year’s time. At any rate, be it part physical or part mental, new shoes make running more fun . . . and more comfortable.

Now for Katy Perry. I’m hot and cold about her (ha-ha) in general, but I must confess that I listened to “Wide Awake” on repeat FOUR times at the beginning of my run today. I kept telling myself that I just wanted to remind myself to wake up and just get this over with, but I think it’s a little more than that. I’ll spare you my analysis of the pop star’s lyrics in relation to my life, but I am happy to report that I hit the first mile in 10:19, which for me is sprinting (Stop rolling your eyes, fest runner people. I see you!), so thank you, Katy. I think your song automatically makes it to my greatest hits running playlist.

Okay, so that was one and two of my six stories. Now for three, four, five and six, which are really just one story. I exaggerate sometimes for effect. That’s called hyperbole. There’s your English lesson for today. So I hit 10:19 on the first mile and then things go back to normal. I stop listening to Katy, the sun starts to bacon fry my skin, and I slow down some, but it’s all good. I’m checking out other people’s landscaping ideas, or lack thereof, breathing comfortably, fast approaching mile two, when I can no longer hear my music clearly because a ferocious, hairy black beast is barking its ample head off and bounding the span of its front yard headed right toward me.

“Well, everybody in this town has an electric fence,” I think.

 Dumb ass.

 I dart to the right. I hear continued barking. I see big, white incisors. I stop and put my hands up like it’s a hold up at a freaking gas station. Behind me, the dog nips my calves. I picture myself being mauled in the middle of the street. (I think there were vultures picking at my entrails in my vision. Clearly, I’ve read too much mythology. Thank you, Prometheus.)

I try not to make eye contact. I keep my hands up. I say, “Nice doggie,” (what is up with that??). I’m sure the thing smells the fear oozing out of my pores . . . but it doesn’t eat me. It’s a miracle!!

So I obviously survived the ferocious beast of my neighborhood, but I’m a little shaken. This has happened before, and I still haven’t educated myself or made the commitment to put to memory what I should do if it happens again. Suggestions are definitely appreciated!

Six stories in 35 minutes of time - - some great, some a little scary. It’s not always that exciting every time, and some may say that I would’ve avoided my potential demise by canine had I just stayed at home, but I can assure you that being out there is better than any of the excuses that I can normally come up with to stay at home. What’s today’s motivation to get out there again? Maybe a nicely crafted “make sure your dog is on lockdown” letter to tape to my neighbor’s mailbox. It could make for another good story.

What I've Learned After One Week Without Carbs

So I put myself on the South Beach Diet. It's kind of a weird story about how it happened, but, in short, Skywalker picked it out for bedtime story (seriously . . . without any prompting) for a few nights in a row, and after actually reading it (there has been at least one copy of this book in my house for at least 5 years collecting dust in the spare bedroom), while he drove cars over his pillows and pretended like he was interested, its principles made a lot of sense to me. I'm not ashamed to say that I've been struggling with some extra lbs. for quite some time now, and after busting my ass in the gym, on the treadmill, and out on the road in total, dedicated seriousness for approximately 8 weeks with no significant results on the scale whatsoever, I came to the conclusion that my diet is what has to be keeping me from achieving my goals. (Okay, and I probably could use to incorporate some strength training on a regular basis, but let's just go with diet at this point, okay?)

Basically, the South Beach Diet, if you aren't familiar, begins with two solid weeks of minimal carbs. The major premise of this is that you sort of change your blood by depleting it of foods with high glycemic levels. By doing this, you are supposedly eliminating cravings for bad foods and jumpstarting weight loss. After the first two weeks, you slowly reintroduce good carbs back into your diet. Then, after you've lost the weight you want, you go on the third phase of the diet, which is how you will eat for the rest of your life, should you chose to remain on the straight and narrow when it comes to food. I needed to start somewhere, and this sounded like as good a place as any, so I thought I'd give it a whirl. Sure, it was popular like 10 years ago, but I'm okay with being late to the party if it works.

So, first two weeks: no bread, no rice, no pasta, no dairy, no cereal, no fruit, no added sugar, no alcohol (what?), no chips, no pretzels, no chicken wings, no Starbucks drinks with whipped cream, and, most important of all, no. Shamrock. shake. (I picked THE most unfortunate time to start this when it comes to my favorite artificially flavored frosty mint treat.)

It's been an interesting journey over the last six days, and I thought it would be fun to share my newfound knowledge with anybody who wants to read . . .

1. From a self-proclaimed "carb addict," being without carbs really wasn't bad . . . at all. Protein really does do what "they" say. It keeps you satisfied for longer periods of time than carbs. I've been eating these little egg cups for breakfast, which I pre-made on Sunday, throughout the week, as opposed to toast or an English muffin with peanut butter, and I have found that I don't get that second period craving that I normally have. (I'm a teacher. I talk in teacher time. First through eighth period. I don't really even know WHEN second period is. All I know is that it's my prep period, and I am usually hunting for some kind of food when it arrives.)

2. The SB book suggests having a glass of vegetable juice with your breakfast. All I can say about that is I am glad I've had lots of prior experience with the bloody Mary. There is a ginormous jug of V-8 juice in my refrigerator right now, and with each 6 oz. glass that I pour, I try to envision myself at a nice, tropical, waterfront establishment or even Frosty's at Put-in-Bay, for that matter. What is it about vodka that makes tomato juice taste so much better??? I contemplate this question each morning as I drink my virgin V-8. Darth Vader has always said that he could never look at V-8 again after fraternity hell week in college, and I can only imagine why . . .

3. I love me some steak. After almost a week of grilled chicken salad this and grilled chicken salad that, I had steak on Thursday. Holy mother. I ate like a freed hostage.

4. Ever heard of the infamous South Beach Diet mashed "potatoes"? They are actually steamed cauliflower blended with some of that butter spray stuff and a tiny bit of fat free half and half. For starters, I have to say that I'm the weird one who actually eats most of the cauliflower on a vegetable crudité platter, so I do really like it as a vegetable in general, but I gotta say, the imitation 'taters are good. I had a nice little mound of those with my steak, and I felt like I was at Flemings. Never mind the fact that I wolfed it all down and immediately went to an intense spinning class where the well-known properties of cauliflower reared their ugly heads (just in the form of some belching - - don't freak - - but uncomfortable none-the-less).

5. At the above-mentioned spinning class, I realized that some carbs are necessary for working out. Despite eating shortly before the workout, at about 40 minutes in, I got a little loopy. Like so bad that I thought I might have to sit down during a run period. I was like, "Hmmm. Sit down or possibly black out, fall off the bike while attached to the pedals, hit my head on the bike next to me, make the instructor stop the class to tend to my sorry ass, be embarrassed and never want to show my face in here again? Luckily we sat down before I had to make the decision for myself. The last 20 minutes were hazy at best. I couldn't work as hard as usual, and I just felt off. I've decided to avoid that feeling again and allow myself to have a little bit of carbs before a workout - - like part of some kind of bar. Vader keeps a lot of Cliff bars around here. I let myself have half.

6. Do not go to the store hungry. We all know this, right? Well, it's worse on this diet. It's hard to find a readily available, all protein snack. Of course there is cheese, but too much of that is a bad thing. I went to the store on Friday starving. Half way through, I was looking for meat on a stick. Seriously. Something that would satiate my intense craving for something . . . anything!! I had a breakdown in the cracker aisle - - the worst place for anyone on a low carb diet. I threw a box of Kashi cookies (I mean, they're by Kashi, the healthy food people. How bad could they be, right?) in my cart and ate three on my way to pick up the kids. UGH.

7. Finally, little set backs are not the end of the world. After my cookie binge AND having some red wine AND one piece of pizza made on multigrain flatbread, I still woke up weighing less than I did the day before. The week has been successful. The diet has made good on all of its promises in the last 6 days. It hasn't been that hard, and I feel like I'm finally getting somewhere after working my butt off and not seeing any results.

So here's a big ol' V-8 juice toast to week two. It ends with a pancake birthday party, which includes pancakes AND cake, for Princess Lea. I will be spending my week gathering my will to stay the course!!