At My Wits' End

I'm up at 3am because I have a lot of things running around in my head and I can't settle in to sleep.

The first thing is work. As I've mentioned before, I love my job. We've been really busy lately, and I'm finally getting the hang of not stressing about it so much, of leaving work at work. But we also have a lot of new procedures, policies, etc. With a new group of people, it is frustrating some times - more for them than for me, because after a year at this company and several years' experiencein startup organizations, I'm used to changes and even welcome them. I always except things to come down the pipeline, but I'm not sure the others expect it. And I also don't want to be a bad leader. I want my example to be a strong example, since I've been there a longer time. That's hard because I'm not always sure what's expected of me outside of my exact job duties. I'm almost never late, I try to shave off any overtime I've got and I dress well. I also try not to be too social. But I'm not sure some times what else I'm right or wrong about. It's silly stuff like - eating at my desk? Giggling at jokes? What am I doing or not doing?

The second thing is my weight. I'm stalled at a 16-17 lb loss, not swinging back towards the lowest weight of a 17-19lb loss, because I'm eating everything in sight. I'm terrified that I'm going to backslide, and I'm not feeling svelte and in-control like I was, despite my "skinny" clothes still fitting, some better than before. This type of fear usually triggers my disordered eating behaviors, so I'm trying to be really careful to pay attention to my emotions and make sure I eat for hunger when I eat . . . not out of fear, bordeom, etc. But it's hard. Some times I'm genuinely, organically hungry and want two sugar cookies, or an extra serving at dinner. Do I punish myself for doing it, do I blame it on the bulimia, or do I just move on? And if I just move on, how do I stop worrying about gaining back? After all, I'm not working out thanks to my NEW injury in my RIGHT fucking leg.

The third thing is Kona. Besides being almost uncontrollable on his leash, he hasn't gotten down the hang of not pooping in the house. I have relegated him back to the bathroom until he gets on schedule - he outgrew the crate long ago and I know he is more comfortable there, but still won't poop. But now he is sitting in the bathroom crying just like he used to do in his crate - so loud and miserably that I cannot sleep. I've been fighting this with him since the HOLIDAYS. We have the same routine every morning: as soon as I wake up between 6 and 8, we go outside and potty. He comes upstairs with me and either plays or naps in my bedroom while I get ready for work. When I get dressed, we have walkies and he usually poops. If he doesn't poop, I come home for lunch and take him to poop. Some days I can't do this, but those days are the exception - not the rule. After work, I come home, we go potty. I either walk him for another poop, then feed him dinner, then walk him within a few hours for his last poop - or, after we tinkle, he comes in and eats, then we go on a long walk for two poops. Then he plays and hangs out with me and the cats, and we go for several more potties before I go to bed between 9 and 11. But some times he doesn't poop on our poop-walks, and he instead poops in the house when I'm not looking.

He is not allowed to sleep with me any more.

I'm at my wits' end. I can't get the house deoderized. I hate being here because it smells so bad to me. And the whole crying in the bathroom thing, combined with him knocking me down and hurting me, is really frustrating. I know it's not his fault that he is a needy, bizarre, spazzed-out puppy. I know he inherited a lot of it from me, and I know I haven't been a great "pack leader." But I have tried SO many things with him, and nothing seems to work. Every time he gets remotely trained, he backslides.

So I will have to get up in the morning and run by Wal-Mart for more of my pet stain and odor remover stuff. And hope I remember what spots I still need to treat, or I'm sure he'll go THERE, too. I'd run out right now, but I'm finally starting to fall back asleep. I guess I will head back that way and make like Scarlett O'Hara . . . worry about that tomorrow.

Postcards from the Road, days 5 and 6

Here I am at home. What a fiasco THAT turned out to be. I didn't get in a run because there wasn't enough time to get ready and run. Then I discovered, when trying to get a drink in-flight, that I had lost my debit card between my gate and my seat. Better than that, I had opted not to get cash in Chattanooga because I knew I could get cash in Orlando.


So I arrived in Orlando 45 minutes behind (thanks to the airline) and sans cash or credit (thanks to my own dumb ass.) I couldn't think of anyone I could call to come get me until I could get cash to get my car out the next day.


I had to grab a cab to the bank to get cash, where I found out I didn't have as much as I thought I had, and then back to the airport to get my car. 9 hours and $60 I didn't have later, I arrived safely back at my car.


And got stuck at the airport gate because I was using cash and they wanted cards. Someone eventually came, but by the time I got everything together, got myself some leftovers and libations, and picked up my dawg, it was after 7pm.


Fabu.


The good thing is, I did get a chance to pick up the pup a day earlier than planned. Kona is now lying beside his broke mommy, happy and exhausted. His mommy? Also happy and exhausted.

Christmas was . . . interesting. Santa was VERY good to me. I didn't get any athletic or pampering gifts, but I got a ton of funky jewelry and about 5 blank books. My family may not know me completely, but they know me well enough to know I love costume jewelry and writing. And, the truth is, writing (the pen and paper version, not the electronic version) is exceptionally cathartic and satisfying to me. It's always helped me immensely, and I need to get back to it.


As I mentioned, my family drove me bananas. (Especially since I had to handle them sober - LOL!) But I was so glad to see them that I ended up having a fabulous time. As I listened to my aunts chatter, I realized what I don't like about my mom's side of the family - they're loud, pushy, weird, nerdy, unstylish and not the best-educated group. ("Eye-talian" is how they pronounce "Italian," they say things like "the rich get richer and the poor get poorer - and they did away with the middle class altogether," (whoever "they" are). They say "like" a lot because they still think it's cool, and they don't dress well.) But I also realized what I like about my mom's side of the family: all of them are outgoing, passionate, gregarious. Bonus? They're true survivors, capable of conquering great adversity and still coming away with a smile.


There's something relaxing about being at mom's. Lack of responsibilities, different lifestyle, no pets to tend, time to lie in bed and write,etc. I get home and instantly feel my schedule and duties drain me. Needless to say, I am pooped. I haven't brought in my bags or cleaned up, but I'll tackle that this weekend.


This weekend starts . . . . NOW.


Disney Half Marathon . . . 3 weeks away.
Melbourne Marathon . . . 6 weeks away.
This week? 2 of 4 runs complete. 13 and 8 left - tomorrow I'm running with a pal.


And now, to veg. Hope it was Merry for you.

Marathon Training, Week 5 (I think?!?!?!?!)

I haven't posted in a few days, because I haven't much to share til now. I haven't been able to run since the 10k as I've been plagued by this respiratory thing. Still waking up feeling steamrolled. I'm totally snotsville, with a raw throat, coughing and blowing my nose like a little kid. Sexy, huh?

Good news: I got my final project done at school. Test is on December 2 I think. Only 2 more weeks of school after Thanksgiving. I probably will not take classes next semester. Instead of adding more things to my plate, I want to just maintain . . . work, train, rinse, repeat. Research new cities and PhD programs. Etc.

Good news?: I may be able to do both St. Anthony's and FL 70.3 next year, which means I will be almost to my goal of 3 Half Ironman races. Keep your fingers crossed.

Bad? news: the endocrinologist found what he's pretty sure is a nodule on my thyroid today. More tests and a re-visit in 6 weeks, but the bump is pretty big, and a nodule frequently indicates thyroid disease. He also thinks I might be insulin-resistant (hypoglycemic). This is not the news everyone would want, but I'm kind of excited about the prospect of actually solving some more of my daily woes. Now that I'm only down to 3 medications (2 if you don't count the NuvaRing - Toprol and Zoloft), the idea that a correct diagnosis and only 1 or 2 more medications might finally get me stabilized? BEYOND exciting.

Miscellaneous: This is going to sound mean, but I wish Kona the dog was in Hawaii like the Ironman. He's on this kick of crying in his crate at night until he falls asleep and every morning if I don't get him up by 7. That may sound late to you, but my schedule now has me coming in at 10, so I have a almost 2 more hours to sleep. He's always done this, but it hasn't been such a problem until now when I don't feel good and have been waking up mysteriously at midnight or 1am almost every night and not getting back to sleep until 3 or 4. So, I'm trying some new things - he gets to sleep with me now (still in his crate, but in my room.) I think he'll go back downstairs because he drives me even crazier upstairs. I'm also trying to give him more space, slowly, by letting him stay in a bathroom today while I'm gone. This is my 4th or 5th attempt at this - wish me luck. But between him and just waking up randomly in the middle of the night, I am not really sleeping.


My goal is to start running again this week. Wish me luck.

I Blame Obama

I blame Obama.

Yeah, I said it.

You know someone else will, so I thought I'd be first.

But I'm not blaming him for anything political or racial or financial or even logical. I'm blaming him for my staying up late and only getting 6.5 hours of sleep Tuesday night while I waited to hear his killer acceptance (and McCain's gracious concession) speech. Because of that, my 7 hours of sleep on Monday night actually meant something (something bad), and that's what caused a bad attack of the dizzies yesterday.

I know this because last night I went home . . . ate . . . took something for my head . . . walked Kona . . . read a little and went to bed(we walk close to a mile a day, every day, and 2 or more on some). I got about 10 hours of sleep and woke up feeling tired . . . but normal. Not dizzy or wiped-out, but clear-headed and drowsy.

I wonder if this is how "normal" people feel every day?

Well, I have 3 more runs for the week: the 10k on Sunday, an 11-mile LSD and a 3-mile easy run - and 4 days in which to do it.

I can get down with that.

I've got a lot more serious shit to share since it's Therapy Thursday (ahh! alliteration is amazing!) but I have to run.

Marathon Training, Week 3, Day 1, Morning Split: I Like Splits

I like splits. Like, gymnastic splits. Banana splits. Negative splits. Lickety split.

But in my past training life - before I started contemplating eating elephants - my all-or-nothing thinking kept me from splitting up single workouts. For some reason, I felt like it wasn't worth doing the workout if I wasn't doing it all at once. Which is kind of ridiculous if you think about it. I mean, I'm a triathlete, so a typical training day for me is split by pure neccessity: one sport in the morning, one sport at night. This has been my life for almost 3 years.

But for some reason it didn't click until I started training again a few weeks ago.

It became evident to me this morning that Kona was not in the mood to run. He had to stop and sniffle-snuffle every single blade of grass or patch of concrete we crossed. He made friends with a couple people and scared another (par for the course when you see this running toward you I guess.) It took us about 30 minutes to go just around 2 miles.

Normally, I would have turned around. I would have said, F- this noise. I give up. I'll just do my strength tonight and call it a wash. But this morning I said, "Well, it's not my fault he has ADD. He is, after all, a dog. I have to do my strength tonight anyway. So, as a warmup for my strength workout, I'll go do at least 1 mile, maybe a little more. 3 miles is 3 miles, no matter how I get there. "

And that pretty much summarizes my training philosophy for this marathon. I don't know what money's going to look like when it comes time to plan my triathlons next year, so I'm worrying about running, right now, training for the races that are important to me. I'm not going to do what I did last year with Philly and let being sick a few days get me down. I've got two, 19-20 mile runs in my schedule this year, so I'm going to make at least most of one of them, if not all of both. And I know what not to do, thanks to my Philly experience.

But I also know what TO do, and that is, focus on one bite at a time, and have fun.

26.2 miles is 26.2 miles, no matter how I get there. I'd rather get there with a smile on my face.

Marathon Training, Week 2, Days 4-5: This Marathon Ain't Gonna Run Itself and The Bastard Can't Beat Me

*Pssst . . . don't tell the dawg . . . but I'm running by myself tomorrow.*

We had a nice 2-miler last night (it was supposed to be a 3-miler, but we both pooped out before we reached the 1.5-mile mark, so we cut it short). It was pretty warm, so I didn't have the same pep in my step that I have during a.m. runs, but overall I felt awesome. The only thing I'm a little disappointed with is my speed. Of course, some of that is because I have brought Kona on the last few runs and we take multiple potty breaks. (If he's dawdling, I tell him This marathon ain't gonna run itself, you know. Then I start doing the can-can. Yes, the can-can. Don't ask me why, but it gets him moving again. Something about seeing your Short Human Caretaker kicking like a Radio City Rockette must trigger the fight-or-flight response in the canine brain.) I also haven't run any distance greater than 2 miles in the last few months, so I want to know that I haven't "lost it."

Well. We already know I've "lost it." Yuk yuk yuk.

Tomorrow is the RunNona 5k, which is my first race in about 4 months, on the first day of a very special month. Every November I celebrate my birthday for the entire month. I figure, why spend one day bemoaning how I'm clinging to my 20's by the skin of my teeth when I can celebrate my newfound perspective for 30 days? This year, I'm kicking off the month with a 5k.

I hate 5ks.

HATE!

HATESOMUCH!

I hate them for the same reason I hate sprint-distance triathlons: it's all about pushing hard to go fast. By the time I get my pace, the race is over. If I ever get my pace - because I don't like pain.

But tomorrow I'm just going to have to suck it up, because my ex-husband is also racing. And I taught him everything he knows. I Can't Let let That Bastard Beat Me.

At least not by a lot.

Today: at least 2 miles of walking.

Tomorrow: the 5k and following athletes at IM FL.

Sunday: 6-8mi LSD.

Next week: the world.

:D

Marathon Training, Week 2, Days 1-3: Kona's First 5+ Miler

I won't be doing IM FL 2009. Why? I can't get Friday off to drive up and volunteer this weekend.

Le sigh.

Anyway.

As you can imagine, I don't often allow Kona to sleep in my bed. There are a number of reasons. First, he is 60+ pounds of solid muscle and he hogs the pillows (as you can see here - this is his Serious Face aka the I Just Woke Up From Lounging on Your Pillows Face). He also has Canine ADD and gets up every 20-30 minutes to chase the cats around the bedroom. He also snores, grunts and occasionally stands over me snuffling and slurping my face, just to remind me he's still in bed with me (as if I could forget). I do, however, let him come on runs with me as often as he wants - which, judging by today's results, will probably be every run under 10 miles.

Yesterday I had to take my 2nd rest day because I overslept in the morning thanks to an unexpected string of nights riddled with insomnia. Then I didn't get home from class until close to 10 p.m. I wasn't worried about it, though, since I walked almost 2 miles with Kona on Monday and passed my midterm last night WITH FLYING COLORS!

I've never been so nervous about a test in my life - I barely had the time or mental energy to study, but I somehow managed to pull it off, even with all the trauma I've experienced recently. The whole night re-framed my idea of . . . . everything. All of a sudden, the advice my dad's given me my whole life about "everything in moderation" really hit me. You see, my idea about tests - about school, about work, about training - and I've probably mentioned this - has always been very black and white. In general, I have a problem with grey areas. (This is in direct conflict with my tendency to be a big picture person - I don't excel at details.) I didn't have the normal 12-15 hours I usually spend on tests and homework for this test (thanks to obvious events in my life) and I was absolutely panic-stricken. But, for some reason, after I passed the test with an A- , I stopped and realized that I don't need to devote 12-15 hours studying for one exam in order to pass it. I don't have to memorize the minutiae to prove I know the material. And then I started thinking deeper about it and realized the same goes for work - I don't need to be earning promotions and raises to prove I'm doing something, just doing my job and learning. And then I realized it is the same for training - if I can't make a 9-mile run, but I still have time for 2 miles, that 2 miles is more miles than I would have logged if I'd just given up and said "Damn, I can't run today." Doing everything is better than doing something, but doing something is better than doing nothing.

Thank you, Captain Obvious!

So I made myself a deal. From now on, whether it's paying bills, working, training, studying, visiting friends, volunteering - I'm going to start respecting that I can't do everything. But. immediately after I acknowledge that, I'm going to make a commitment to do something. Anything. No matter how tiny the effort is, even if I'm sick as hell and all I can do is run to the park and back, read one chapter, finish one set of documents, or commit to a future race.

You know that hokey equation about finishing races that goes DLF>DNF>DNS? Here's mine for life: Everything>Something>Nothing.

Today: Almost 6 miles, Kona made it the whole way, 1:19 and change.
Tomorrow: 3mi.
Friday: 3mi.
Saturday: Lake Nona 5k.
Sunday: 6-8 mi.
2 Weeks: Celebration Founders' Day 10k.
5 Weeks: OUC Half Marathon.
15 weeks: Melbourne Marathon.

Triathlon schedule for 2009 will follow.

Marathon Training, Week 1, Day 1: Dances with Bulls

Today was my first day back to training. My goal race is the Melbourne and the Beaches (Inaugural) Marathon on February 8, 2009. My half marathon will be the OUC Half on December 6, 2008 . This will be my second marathon (first in Florida), and my 3rd half marathon (second time running the OUC Half).

My goal for both races?

To finish.

I don't think I can honestly expect a PR with only 6 weeks of training (16 for the full) and the year I've had, so I'm counting it as a PR to be able to log another running of the OUC Half and another marathon. I'll be loosely following Hal Higdon's Novice 2 Schedule, although I have the training base to use the Intermediate 1 schedule, since I've decided to make my goal a little more conservative than I would have made it in weeks past. I'm jumping in on week 2 of that plan, since I have 16 weeks untilthe marathon and the program calls for 18. I'll also be doing more strength and flexibility training since it worked for me during PT last year. This week's runs are a 3mi, a 5mi pace, a 3mi, and a 9 LSD. For my first few weeks, my long runs will include walk breaks.

Also, my schedule for the rest of the year will include more spectathleting - this weekend at the Great Floridian Triathlon in Clermont and hopefully for Ironman FL on November 1. IM FL is a 12-hour drive, so I'd need to be able to get the day off on October 31, which I don't know if I can do.
My training schedule will also include something it didn't have before: a running partner. I'll be running at least part of my distance, or an additional 1-3 miles, every day with my four-legged buddy. (Yes, he is sitting next to my bicycle on the trainer in that picture.) Tonight I'll complete one of the shorter distances since this week's two rest days have already been taken and the schedule will need shuffling. This morning we went almost 2 miles in about 18 minutes, mostly in Z4 because he runs so much faster than I do.

And that's why I decided to call Day 1 Dances with Bulls. (Or bullies.)

I suspect there's an equation here somewhere . . . .

The new routine:

• Wake up at the same time I used to.
• Curl up and try to sleep for another hour.
• Fail (mostly because of Kona's incessant whining).
• Get up and take Kona to the bathroom. (Unlike the other animals in the house, he is not smart enough to understand a "variable schedule" - e.g., weekends I'm up before 8, weekdays I'm up before 6, if I'm sick I'm up around 7, with my new schedule I can sleep as late as 8:30 . . . and some days I Just Do What I Want. How hard is that, anyway???)
• Take Kona to McDonald's drive-through for iced coffee.
• Laugh at him getting in the back seat to stick his head out the front window.
• Get compliments on how pretty and well-behaved he is.
• Bemoan the blond dog hairs and doggie smell now in my car.
• Oust car to death.
• Take Kona on our mini-mile run to park.
• Bemoan how much faster he is than me.
• Enjoy life with RGP contact lenses.
• Curse the entire time I'm putting them in.
• Get dressed.
• Get made up.
• Admire Luis's fabulous job on my TV-anchor worthy hair.
• Blog.
• Smile the whole time.

I'm still struggling with the bronchitis - but, I suppose there is more than one -itis out there that is far worse. Also, while I'm very happy to have my running partner back, I'm still pissed that Kona is twice as fast as I am (that fucker), but I strongly suspect there is an equation here somewhere involving his having 1/4 my age, 1/3 my weight and double the legs. (Where is a rules official when you need one?)

Where w equals weight, l equals legs and a equals age, solve for x:

1/3w x 1/4a x 2l = x

P.S. - Check out one of my new favorite blogs, Run Bitch Run!

"Scientists agree that you are a unique and fascinating specimen, but there are no practical applications for you as yet."

This week's horrorscope from The Onion, my favorite satirical e-journal, tells me: "Scientists agree that you are a unique and fascinating specimen, but there are no practical applications for you as yet."

I'll be damned. Tell me something I haven't been contemplating for years!

I just got back from my first run with Kona since I had a horrible bout of dizzy spells-cum-fatigue-cum-cold-cum bronchitis, and since he broke his leg. Now I have a new passel of specialists to go see, including an endocrinologist (spellcheck my ass, puh-leaaaaze), which variety of doctor I understand is very difficult to track down in less than 2-3 months.

Kona? Is an eight-minute-miler. I? Am not. But together, including a poop-stop and a pee-break (neither for me), we managed under 10. Granted, we only ran one mile, but considering my bronchial area is still full of phlegm (oh, soooo sexy), that's not bad. Today is the best I've felt in . . . oh, I can't remember when.

I have an Oly in about a month. I'm still shooting for it. Definitely the Half Marathon in December. (Although, I've learned not to think or worry too much about tomorrow, because you just never know.) I've had to withdraw from all but one class, and, although I'm a little behind on my assignments (just wait till this weekend! YARRRR!!!), I still have an A. At work, I was somewhat forced into a reduced schedule (they cut my work day by 1 hour each and shifted me in at 10 so that I could make all my doctor's appointments early.) Now, you may say this sounds like a gift from the gods, but I'm skeptical about everything, especially given recent events, and considering I'm supposed to have perfect attendance in exchange for this "accomodation."

Snicker. They don't know me very well, do they? Murphy? Bad Luck Chuck? Queen of Things I Can't Control? The kinda girl who will be on my 10-minute drive to work 30 minutes early and blow a tire and still get there 30 minutes late? I'm finding more humor in it every day, I have to admit - especially since I decided to close the door.

Releasing expectations is . . . weird. I walk into work, for example, or even think about walking into work, and I wonder, how am I supposed to feel? Act? Then I realize that I'm just supposed to roll with it. And that kinda puts a smile on its face all on its own. I can't remember the last time I was as mentally and physically ill as I was this past week/end. All of my girls were out of town and I was in a rough spot - too sick to move and no one to call. It really made me re-evaluate my expectations of weekends as these jam-packed, homework-stuffed, socially-overwhelming, training-focused demons and see them more like giant, sad, empty mansions that have been left too long without butlers. And then, a few phone calls from some of my guy friends during the first part of the week, and I was in significantly better spirits.

I realized today, after these observations and after my observations about absences at work, that we completely understimate our influence on the lives of others.

Oh, and uh . . . don't think you're not supposed to still be expecting great things from me . . . I just don't have anything specific for you.

Yet.

RIP to a Grande Dame of Triathlon

Today is a sad day in the world of triathlon. One of the best known Master's athletes passed away at the (very young) age of 65.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080829/ap_on_re_us/obit_warren

"Barbara Warren, one of the world's elite endurance athletes in her age group and one-half of a well-known pair of triathlete twins, has died after breaking her neck in a bike crash at the Santa Barbara Triathlon. She was 65.

"Warren, of San Diego, died Tuesday at Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital when her family told doctors to take her off a ventilator, her twin sister Angelika Drake told the San Diego Union-Tribune.

"Warren crashed her bike on a downhill road about halfway through the 34-mile cycling section of the race on Saturday, race director Joe Coito said. Warren was paralyzed from the neck down and was breathing with the aid of theventilator. Drake said her sister told the family by blinking and nodding that she wanted to die.

""I talked to her and she nodded over and over and over again. She wanted to leave," Drake said. "No athlete would like to have a life with only their eyes talking.""

I heartily concur.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
In my own news.....

As you probably know, Kona hit his leg on the stairs at my brother's house before Ileft for Mom's. I took him to the vet after I returned, once I saw that he was still not putting full weight on it. The vet sent me to an orthopedist and told me they should get me in within the week - if not, I was to call the vet back and have HIM make the appointment. The next day, I sent the ortho Kona's information. On Tuesday I made an appointment, and didn't think it was a big deal, as the vet told me to get him in some time this week. The ortho told me to come in Friday. I still did not know with 100% certainty the leg was broken. The vet indicated that it may have been a growth plate injury, possibly broken but wanted a second opinion.

I went this morning to the ortho. The leg is DEFINITELY broken - right along the growth plate. I got a ROYAL rash of shit from the ortho about why I hadn't brought Kona in sooner. The visit alone will cost me almost a week's pay and, if HAD needed surgery, that would have cost me over a month's salary. And the additional absences I'm racking up with all of this? I'd be lucky if they don't cost me a job.

The surgeons told me it's pretty much my fault for not bringing him in sooner, but that his leg will definitely heal at a wonky angle, which may mean nothing as he matures, OR he may have one leg shorter than the other for the rest of his life and be predisposed to tearing his cruciate ligament. So, no running partner for at least 6 weeks and I have to try to make him run in the grass after that I guess.

It seems really frivolous under these circumstances to report that I successfully repaired my tire and never forgot how. Even with over a year of no-tire-repairing and the animals running around me, I did it in about 10-15 minutes. Then I tried to get my remote hooked up to my Mag+ trainer. (I've been too lazy to do it.) After maybe 5 minutes of spinning, hopping on and off to adjust tension and try to install the remote, I collapsed on the floor in tears. It was 7pm and I'd been at my plan since 5:15. My thought was while I was waiting for the meat in the oven I could be fixing the tire and hopping on the bike - but I didn't even eat till almost 8. I finally got about 5 loads of my 8 loads of laundry folded - very half-assedly - and now all I have left is the stuff that needs to be hung and my kitchen full of dishes.

I'm hard-pressed not to believe that I'm jinxed. Everything I touch seems to fall apart. Today is a day when I really need some positive psychology.

I'm also starting to wonder if I can defer Miami Man to next year and just focus on a half, and then full, marathon that is farther out before I dive back into triathlon full-time.

Ok, ok - when it rains, it pours - aka Let it Go Already!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok, so . . . reading my blog last night . . . I realized how grumpy, bitter and angry I sound. (Wow, like that's anything new.) But I promise I'm really writing most of this with tongue in cheek.

Except for what follows. All of this was written with 100% gravity (yes, that's a complete disregard for grammatical correctness - no, I don't care).

Prologue . . .
I was about to launch into this really nice blog about how the flood damage on my wood floors wasn't really that bad and my phone wasn't completely broken, and how, despite that and the puppy's potentially pending surgery (yes, that's another complete disregard for grammatical correctness - and I still don't care) I was feeling refreshingly positive. Driving down the road on the way to work, I thought to myself: "This is really no big deal, because, regardless of anything I've been through, I still have my family and friends. And really, that's all that matters." {To paraphrase Tea, if they're not with you during the bad times, they're not friends - they're something else.}

Now, keep in mind, I HATE blogging about work. But I'm at the point where my giveadamn is broken, my giveashit is nonexistent, and my giveafuck is right behind them.


Rant, Part Uno
Yesterday I got an email from my former recruiter, in response to my request to re-recruit me, which was a very tasteful little email explaining that things were, just as I had expected, not a great fit at current company. I explained that my bosses did not know but that I wanted to start shopping around. (I figured I didn't need to lower my class or intelligence level by adding" . . . in case I have to go off on these m'f'ers and I accidentally get arrested on felony charges.") His response?

"I'm sorry things aren't what you expected. Have you talked to anyone about this?"

Ahem.

What part of "things are what I expected" and "no one knows" didn't you get, douchebag?!!??!

I'll recruit myself, thankyouveryfuckingmuch. And I almost wrote back and told him so. (Don't worry - I still have a modicum of self-restraint left.)


Rant, Part Deux . . .
I walked in this morning to find out that one of my poor co-workers has had no power since last night and was waiting for it to be turned back on so she could come in (also, her baby-sitter had no power and hadn't come over and her husband was at work, so she couldn't leave her baby alone). Now, during Charlie, Francis, Jean and Ivan (the sum of which caused me less damage than this single tropical f'ing storm has caused), we had power loss for days and weeks. But everyone I know came in late, or not at all, the first few days, because they all thought the condition was temporary. After that, everyone just came in - because, really, what else could they do? But this is the first major day of power loss, and this storm is much worse for the Northeast side of town than for anyone else. So, my other co-worker gives my late coworker's message to my VP of HR (or VB of CR, as I call her - and I'll let you try to figure out what the letters stand for.

Guess what the VB says?

Are you ready for this?

Are you sure?

........................................................

"I lost power last night, and I'm here."

Since when does losing power for a few minutes or even hours (in the wealthiest zip code in town, with some of the best-built homes, I might add) equate to being without it for almost a day? At the point of this call, the co-worker hadn't even gotten power back. VP appears to have done makeup and hair impeccably, which usually requires light, which usually requires power. And, even if that's not the case, doesn't this bitch remember what it's like to be in your 20s or 30s with kids?

HUMAN resources, my ass. As Tara remarked, though, most people in human resources are neither human nor resourceful.

Stick a fork in me, bitches. I'm done.

When does the crying end and the laughing start?

I'd like to say when it rains, it pours. However, considering there are 49-mph gusts and nonstop 30-mph wind that blew my umbrella inside out 6 times, drenched me until my coworkers began making the inevitable wet rat jokes, and turned my traction control on 4 times while traveling to/from work, etc., I think that'd be just a little too ironic - even for me. You know how I some times like to say "at some point things get so overwhelmingly bad that you can't even cry any more - you have to just laugh"?

Well, what I want to know is, when does the crying end and the laughing start?

In case I haven't mentioned it lately, Kona is usually a giant, major pain in my ass. I like to call him "Ko-no-no-na" because I think he hears the word "no" more often than he hears his own name. He is the sweetest, dumbest, happiest dog you'll ever meet - but bullies are complete creatures of routine and they will not turn loose of their own little "plan." When I came home last night and he was gimping all over for the 4th or 5th day in a row, I immediately scheduled a visit to the closest vet for first thing in the morning.

-Aside-
I'm sure, by now, that my bosses expect to get a message, call or email from me every single week that I've suffered from some bizarre illness or fallen victim to some freak disaster. I mean, for fuck's sake - I can't even take a vacation or sick day because my days all get allotted to bullshit. Since joining the company in February as a temp and then June as a direct hire, in addition to a few regular ol' days off for visiting my parents and FL 70.3, I've:

• had to re-schedule the closing on my house 4 (maybe 5) times
• lost almost a half-day at the courthouse trying to get my divorce decree, which was never finalized
• needed house repairs and had to meet the guy at my townhouse
• gotten ill because my medicine kept me up ALL night
• been in the hospital - and had the doctor suggest I rest 2 days - twice
• had my washer break
• had my A/C break
• gotten pregnant
• lost the baby
• had a puppy with a hurt leg

And that's just what they did know about.

Anyway. Puppies have these things in between their bones called "growth plates," just like baby humans, that are basically cartilege that grows into bones. So my (very anal-retentive and picky - in a good way!) vet tells me today that, although he thinks nothing's officially "fractured," he's worried ($) that Kona has cracked or dislocated a growth plate between his knee bones. Hard to tell from the x-rays, though, so he's sending me ($$) to an orthopedist, who may take more films ($) and potentially send Kona for surgery ($$$) because, if not, as a large breed dog, the bones may not grow right. This means, if the vet doesn't put a pin in his knee or something to that extent, the bones could fuse together or make one leg shorter than the other . . . causing him to be crippled for life. :(:(:(:(:( ????!!!!!!!

So, here I am . . .With no money left. . . And a phone that keeps breaking....And no patience left . . . And almost no will to even get off the sofa at night or get up in the morning . . .And my 3 best friends in the world are 2 short-haired tabbies and a brindle AmStaff . . . And a tropical storm ensuing from which my stupid fucking bosses won't excuse anyone from driving in the 30-50mph winds and driving rain . . .

And now I have to drive to work and pray I don't die while I save whatever money I can scrape up to keep one of them from potential lifelong gimphood.

I should be laughing right now, because there's just no way one woman can have all this happen to her at once. But it's me. And it does. And it has. And it isn't going to stop any time soon. So, this week we begin Project Kona Makes it Out Okay, Even if I Have to Lose My Car Insurance.

YAY, ME!

Ramblings of the sick and JACKASSES in TRANSITION

I am sick. Again.

Shocked? I'm not.

I have a cold . .. sore throat, sniffles, cough, sinus headache, the whole 9. Between that, being low on sleep the past few days and trying to raise my running partner, I am about as dog-tired (no pun intended) as you can get. I feel so shitty I can barely compose the thoughts that are insanely chasing themselves around in my head. My house is a wreck and I don't have the energy to do anything with it. I shuffled around some clothes and did some laundry. Tidied up a bit in the kitchen and had a bowl of my famous it-came-out-of-the-box-but-is-lowfat-and-has-real-cheese-mac-and-cheese. Passed what looked like a stain on my new carpet and tried halfheartedly to clean it. Looked down and realized the floor needs a sweeping but sat down to watch the puppy play instead. Couldn't go anywhere without the pup, so I tried to get Kona to pee outside a million times and play with him so he would pass out for a few hours. (Getting up with him is not so bad because The Dude will come by after work - he gets off around 2am - and spend some play and potty time with him. Then I can sleep until work time again.)

I'm supposed to do my first du this weekend - remember, the one I moved because I was so sick *different sick though* last month? That one. I've decided not to go coached until I go Iron, and when I do, I'm going with a local coach. One issue is that I just can't get financially stable enough since the divorce to do it right now. Another issue is that I need the face-to-face, in-person interaction more than the mental coaching. All having a coach seemed to do was put added pressure on me - as well-meaning as that pressure is - pressure I probably need in the long run - but the truth is, I'm rough enough on myself. (Remember, I'm the one who feels as if I manifested my own illnesses by somehow being less of a human being.)

I probably need a shrink more than I need a coach. OK, NO ONE'S ALLOWED TO RENT NEGATIVE SPACE IN YOUR HEAD, REMEMBER - NOT EVEN YOU!!?

NO VACANCY.
NO VACANCY.
NO VACANCY.

Truly, with all my issues this year, it's just not a good year for me to get "serious" about the sport. If I was a stay-at-home wife or a mom who went to school instead of working, or just stayed at home PERIOD, I'd have more schedule flexibility (don't think I'm saying this means I'd have more TIME). But right now, if I don't get in a workout because I'm too sick to wake up an hour or two early, that also means I can barely get through a workday, come home to throw in a load of laundry and feed my pets before I start to LITERALLY collapse at night. Some nights I don't even get dinner. (Which is why I'm sitting here instead of doing something that requires me to stand up and move around).

So I'll stick with club workouts and try to make some triathlon buddies until I get super-serious. Let's face it, I'm not going to Kona. *Well, unless he whines to get out of his cage.*

Which leads me to my RANT about JACKASSES racking their SHIT on top of YOURS in TRANSITION. Listen, ASSHOLES, I know you have dreams of winning your age group, and I know you probably, unlike me, actually have a CHANCE, but you are COSTING the person behind you MINUTES AND MINUTES by kicking their things over and throwing your things on top of them - not to mention potentially DAMAGING them. I understand we alll want to get through transition quickly, but just because YOU would rather GAIN 30 SECONDS does not give you the right to COST some other poor schmoe behind you 90. Besides, for all YOU know, they're only behind you because their wave started after yours, and they're going to kick your ASS on the run ANYWAY. Just because you can afford all the time and gear and training to make you faster does NOT give you the right to make someone else slower. Besides, it's Just Plain Respect. Get in and out as quickly and neatly as you can so that everyone else can, too. Let's face it. No one is running Escape from Ft. De Soto or HOT to win a place in the World Championship.

Thus concludes my cranky, sick rant for the day. Sorry. Being without exercise and sleep make me esceptionally pissy.

Introducing Kona

Some of you know this, but my ex wouldn't let me have a puppy, and I've wanted a puppy for a very long time. I have two wonderful kitties, but kitties are not able to go on runs with you, although my male wishes he could and certainly thinks he's a dog.

Well, finally, I found a perfect match for me. The American Staffordshire Terrier is a tough, muscular, energetic breed that loves to run. He has a feisty little personality and a good breeder/mentor to boot.

He is going to be a very big boy - probably around 80 pounds. He is now about 5 weeks and already partly housebroken and crate-training. He and my Dog-Cat love each other, although there's still some debate on who is the Alpha Male of the house.

All of my pets have been named for something I love or something they act like. My male cat is Arnie (Arnold Palmer), aka Mr. Palmer, for his super-cool, guy-next-door 'tude and my love of golf and favorite old-school golf legend. (Who I've met and also worked for at the Golf Channel for several years.) My female cat is a little dainty miss with great big eyes and long lashes, who fell in love with My Dude the minute he walked through the door and will openly flirt with him every time she can.

So this new addition to my family . . . . what could I name him? This bulky little tyke with the broad shoulders and cocky walk? What would work for something like that?



Why, of course, the name of the biggest, toughest Ironman Triathlon in the world.

The World Championship, to be exact.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like you to meet . . . .

KONA.

He may be all goofy and wrinkly now (a lot like me), but give him a couple (puppy) years and it's on like Donkey Kong.