Amy + Pain Meds + Motorized Cart at Target = hilarity (for me at least)
Just had my first official “get off my lawn” old lady moment.
There is a family who lives in my building. There are a lot of kids up there. I don’t even know how many. A variety of ages. There might be a couple of families. The kids are nice. They like miss Beep.
I am not, however, their personal doorman.
Since I’m guessing the adults have the apartment keys, when they are gone, if the kids leave and the door hasn’t been propped open, they ring doorbells until someone answers. I’ve stopped answering when my doorbell rings, unless I’m expecting someone.
Tonight, the ringing was ridiculous. I jumped (ok, hobbled) out of bed, opened my door and yelled at a kid, “You guys seriously need to stop ringing my bell.” Then I slammed my door.
No joke, within 5 minutes the door was ringing every thirty seconds. Meanwhile, Beep is going batshit crazy. I storm back up the stairs and there is no one there. The doorbell is ringing. The apartment where the kids live? Someone is standing at their door. I can hear all the doorbells in my building dinging. I slammed the bells outside, went back to my apartment and shut the door.
Maybe there’s a problem with our doorbell system? All I know is, I’m calling the manager in the morning.
Today, I high-fived my trainer when he was trying to fist-bump me for running 5 miles this weekend without walking.
Later, while delirious from the ass-kicking workout, I got his dog and child’s names mixed up…which must have really confused him when I said he could put Lucas (dog) in a baby bjorn and walk around the gym. And that Lucas’ first words would be “Give me 5 more.”
Then there’s this:
Trainer: I have a feeling bad things are going to be said about me online tonight.
Me: That’s a possibility.
Mostly, I just had an awkward session. Because I’m awkward.
Dad: Amy, your muffler is now in your trunk. Don’t worry, I put a piece of cardboard down first.
Me: WHAT? Muffler is in the trunk?
Dad: Oh, yeah. I took a look at what that noise was. I just took off your muffler. It wasn’t really attached anymore.
Me: So wait, it’s in the trunk?
Dad: Yes, but don’t worry. I put cardboard down.
So, yesterday was interesting. As I got into my car in the Walgreens parking lot before work, I heard (and felt) my tights rip at the back seam. If I would have gone back home, I would have been late for work and I figured it wasn’t too bad so I just went about my day.
But the rip kept getting bigger. If you follow me on twitter, you know that it just kept getting worse. When I got home from work, the seam had ripped almost completely to the front of the tights. This is what I saw when I took the tights off:
Let me tell you, it was breezy up in here.
Besides being crabby and tired, the FODMAPs elimination diet is going well. Unless you count the horribly bland salads I’ve had the last two days when eating out. Last night I had to pick off the croutons. SADSIES.
So today, I had my first training session back with my trainer, John. I haven’t seen him since January because of the whole slipping on the ice and throwing out my back thing.
I walked into the gym he now owns (Bayview Fitness!!!) and walked into the locker room. I thought something looked a little different and then… I saw the urinal. Facepalm. I would have been ok (no guys in there) except for as I was trying to sneak OUT of the locker room, a guy was walking in. He looked at me funny and I muttered, “Ugh! Wrong locker room! hahahah. It’s been a rough morning. I mean day. I mean, umm, ahh.” Then I just walked into the women’s locker room.
Sometimes I think that my life could EASILY be turned into a sitcom. Days like the last two are only proof that it would be hilariously embarrassing.
What the heck?
Today I was trying to set up an account at USPS.com so I could order stamps and not have to go to the post office to get them.
Imagine my surprise when I saw this –>
I couldn’t figure it out. I mean… THAT’S MY LAST NAME!
” I realize that my participation in this event entails the risk of injury or even death.”
Perhaps, just perhaps, I should have paid closer attention to the Dances with Dirt waiver.
“I realize that the course for the (DWD) presents a number of potential dangers to me and I hereby assume the risk arising from all of them. I realize that I will be running on a variety of surfaces, some of them far less than perfect, including but not limited to roads, unimproved trails, mud, swamps, cliffs, lumpy fields covered with waist high grass and river crossings. The roads are open to motor vehicle traffic that has the right of way. I know that broken bones, reactions to poison ivy, insect bites and bruising are common occurrences in this extreme event and that I will be far into the wilderness away from medical support. I realize that the danger of injury and even death exists as well and I hereby assume all the risks that may be present on the (DWD) course.”
Let’s move on to the race info that was emailed out to participants the week before the race:
- DWD is an adventurous trail run with difficult and stupid sections. Crying is acceptable.
- IF YOU’VE RUN FOR 3 MINUTES WITHOUT SEEING A RIBBON OR FLAG, YOUR DECISION TO CONTINUE FORWARD IS MORONIC.
- 10K Virgin voyage 2011 (first year)
What in the HELL did I get myself into? Read on.
It all started Friday night when Rochelle, Annie, Tracey, Matt, Marty and I drove up to meet Krista and Evan at Devil’s Head Resort in Merrimac. Rochelle, Annie and Tracey headed to the resort to check in and the rest of us set up camp.
We headed into Baraboo for some good ol’ fashioned spaghetti and meatballs. The Mama Mia’s staff were so sweet and stayed open late just for us!
Then it was back to camp for more beer and this awesome campfire:
Why yes, that IS two citronella candles chillin’ on a smokey joe. Don’t judge. You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first.
I woke up early enough to see my friends off to their races. Annie, Rochelle, Tracey, Krista and Marty all did the marathon. Evan and Matt did the half marathon… then there was me. The lone 10k-er.
I wasn’t really worried or all that nervous before the race. This was just a fun run on the trails while my friends ran a marathon. I’d finish and head back to camp for beer.
I headed to the start line just before 8 a.m. Then I heard the announcer say, “Oh hey 10k-ers. By the way, you’re going to wish you signed up for the half marathon. This is the most difficult 10k I’ve ever seen.”
Then the race started. So I ran. Then we got to the ski hill. You know, the one we had to RUN UP.
I know. Who in the hell runs up a ski hill?
The race bottle-necked at the base of the hill, which was fine with me. “I’m good with this pace. Carry on,” I proclaimed to much laughter.
After the initial incline, the pack began to thin out. I couldn’t help but wonder what I had gotten myself into. It was HOT.
It doesn’t look steep, but trust me, it’s not fun.
When I reached the top of the hill, I was pretty excited. I was only a little slower than I had planned and it was uphill. Winning! Just do a 5k up here then I get to head back down! Wheeee!
I picked up speed and ran through the woods. I passed two or three people. Hells yeah. I’m doing this. I’m rocking this.
Yep. I fell. Hard. Forward.
I cut up my legs, arms and even got a hole in my summer running tights. Oh, and I landed right on my left thumb. But more on that later.
I shook it off and kept going.
Then, I came to what can only be described as a steep steep hill (yes, double steep) with shoulder-high grass where race organizers probably sent someone the day before to stomp a path down the hill. So there was this tiny itty bitty path on this double steep hill and the only path was slippery grass mixed with fresh mud. You see where this is going, right?
I basically fell down this hill. For more than half a mile. Every few steps I would slip and slide down further on my ass. It got pretty comical. Step step step step BOOM slide. Repeat. I counted seven falls down the hill. I grabbed anything and everything to maintain my balance, including thorny bushes. I even got my hair stuck in a small tree while the rest of my body tried to fall down the hill. I took baby steps, sideways down the hill to maintain balance. I went so slow. Then I reached the bottom. Yay! Water stop! Yay! Catching up with the other slow people.
Confession: I don’t know these ladies or their names. But we commiserated at 3.5 miles into the 10k. Notice the smiles? Those were gone in about 60 seconds.
Why? The colored flags denoting the race path started sneaking…. up. Yes, UP. UP ANOTHER DAMN SKI HILL. This one was so much worse than the first.
The heat and humidity were starting to hit me and my asthma… hard. Every 5-10 steps I had to stop to catch my breath and pray I didn’t die. I sent the ladies pictured above along with a nice man named Mark on ahead. I was overly dramatic and told them to “Save yourselves. Leave me be. I’m gonna puke. It’s not going to be pretty. I’ll catch up later.”
And now we come to the part of the day where I completely lost about 30 minutes of my life. Seriously. Somehow it took me 30 minutes to go half a mile up a hill. And I don’t really remember any of it. I was dizzy. I was hallucinating. I’m pretty sure it was heat exhaustion. I drank some of my water. Took a couple sport beans. I dreamed of laying down and passing out. I know that I never let myself sit down or lay down, but I really don’t know what happened. But then I got to (what I thought was) the top of the ski hill! WINNING! Here’s what the look down was like.
I entered a wooded area. Yay! Shade! Less than a quarter mile later, this is what I saw:
I was only half way up the damn ski hill. I started sobbing. I couldn’t believe what a tease the course was. I thought I was at the top of the hill. I wasn’t even close. Luckily, it wasn’t nearly as steep, but it was still UP.
I struggled to the top and then started to feel a bit better. I did some jogging as I headed back in and out of the wooded areas and down the “easy” ski hill. I didn’t push my speed because I really didn’t want to pass out. I knew I was going to be the last person to finish the 10k so there really wasn’t any type of time goal. Just finish. And, #dontdie.
Eventually, I heard some music. I heard cheering. I knew I was getting close to the finish line. I stumbled through the finish line and was given my medal. No one cheered. I don’t think anyone even knew I was running the race because I looked like a stumbling drunk.
One of the volunteers gave me an ice cold bottle of water. That water was heaven. She asked how I was doing. I think she could tell something was off. I told her I didn’t know if I was ok. She offered to walk me to the med tent but I said I could do it. I didn’t know if I needed it though. So I kind of wandered like a crazy person at the finish, drinking gatorade, water, whatever I could get my hands on.
I saw Matt. He said he and Evan were worried about me because they thought I was going to finish an hour earlier. Yeah, me too. He offered to get me things. I just sort of mumbled and started throwing down my ipod, garmin, spibelt and kicked off my shoes. I walked straight to the make-shift shower near the finish line and stood under the cool stream of water for 5-10 minutes. That was the most amazing ghetto shower I’ve ever taken. It cooled me off enough I didn’t need to go to the med tent. I washed off all my cuts and scrapes and scrubbed off the mud. Then I stumbled to the food table and sloppily ate half a chocolate muffin. omg. chocolate. muffin.
I changed, grabbed my chair and the beer and chilled at the finish line with Evan and Matt to await our friends’ arrival. Mmmm beer.
No amount of training could have adequately prepared me for this race. Based on previous trail runs, I expected to finish in about 2:05 with an ultimate goal of 1:50. My official time: 2:41:26.
Injuries: countless bruises, cuts, scrapes, thorns, sunburn, a bunch of busted blood vessels and a sprained thumb.
SPLITS: 21:55, 22:03, 19:33, 48:31, 32:10, 17:15*
*NOTE: these are incorrect, as when I practically crawled up the ski hill (2nd) my garmin kept jacking up with the satellites, so it said I did 5.85 mi when it was really 6.2. I’m sure the trees didn’t help, either.
Today, my trainer told me to do 30-40 minutes of easy cardio: walk, eliptical, biking. I got to choose. Of course, I chose biking!
I put on my brand new workout gear – soooooo cute! Even the band of the bottoms match the color of the top!
Cool gloves? Check
Cool sunglasses? Check
Red helmet? Checkity check
I head out to the garage, lube up my chain (get yer mind out of the gutter) and head out for a 6-8 mile easy ride.
As I’m nearing the 1 mile mark, I get frustrated. Why is it sooooo hard to pedal? I have it on an easy gear, the road is relatively flat. What the heck?
I attempt to cross the busy intersection of 76th and Lincoln and wonder if I’ve completely lost any semblance of fitness.
Then I look.
My back tire was flat as a pancake.
So then I got to walk my bike back home.
At least I looked fucking cute doing that, even if I did look absolutely ridiculous walking my bike for a mile.
John: You know, you’re totally making me feel like a rockstar
Me: Why? (laughs)
John: Well, you lost 3.5 lbs this week, running has been going well, I’m doing something right.
Me: (laughing) Then I probably shouldn’t tell you I also went down a pants size.