Things I H@!&

Hey there!  Remember me?

Stealing snuggles from my napless Cupcake.

Here's a blog post!  It's about things that I hate.

I bleeped the "H" word in the title because hate is not a word we generally use in our house, and although he doesn't read my posts, Rip Claw does often see the titles.  Hate falls into the same category as stupid, dumb, ugly, idiot, kill (only taboo in the context of people, not bugs), fart, and butt.  When Rip Claw was very small, I noticed that I was cringing every time I heard children use those words.  The dissonance between the young child's voice and the ugly words being said was unnerving, and I didn't like it.  (By the by, there are no pretty words to use in place of 'fart'.  We say 'stinker' or sometimes, 'boom boom', but I fully realize that those are also cringe-worthy.)  I'm not one who curses, generally.  See, I've become so used to being around my children, that even when I can't control the urge to use profanity, it comes out like, "FrickaflickinspintaGAHduffaflun."  I tend to agree with this blogger, Matt Gemmell,on the subject of profanity, in that sometimes, its use is just. plain. right.  Therefore, Thing I Hate #1 is that Rick Grimes said "screwing."

source

                                                           ***SPOILER ALERT***
So, we're to believe that the same guy who just ripped someone's throat out with his teeth after surviving unimaginable horrors like filth, starvation, dehydration, loss, fear, injuries, hallucinations, killing people, killing the same people again, infidelity, and the complete breakdown of the world as he knew it is not the kind of guy to say "fucking" when he and his friends are imprisoned by cannibals?  I hate that the rules regarding what can be broadcast on television are stupid.  I would wager an awful lot of money that every single person who watches The Walking Dead has heard the f-word on more than one occasion.  I would also wager that anyone who knows anything would agree that certain characters are more believable, in books, television, and movies, if they use profanity.  If people, even some who don't generally use those words themselves, are watching shows like this one, with so much violence, gore, drama, suspense, and mental anguish, they will not be offended by hearing the right word used for the situation.  Even if that word happens to carry a hefty penalty from the FCC.


I've been working as a substitute teacher for an entire 6 months, so I'm a bit of an expert when it comes to education.

Like Daddy Pig, I'm a bit of an expert at many things.

I bet you think that now I'm going to say that I hate Common Core State Standards.  I don't.  I'm actually rather rabidly in favor of the program, but that's a subject for another post.  In fact, I hate something about our education system that doesn't really have anything to do with me, personally, or my children, specifically.  Thing I Hate #2 is that para-professionals are paid less than $8.50/hour.  To be fair, they have the potential to earn almost $10.50/hour after earning a 2-year degree and working in the field for several years.  This fact literally makes me feel nauseous.

Many of the substitute jobs I have worked lately have been in classrooms with special needs children.  Some of the kids have Emotional/Behavioral Disorders, some have been diagnosed with disorders on the Autism spectrum, some have learning difficulties because of physical problems or Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.  All of the classes have one teacher, one or two paraprofessionals, and access via radio to a trained behavioral specialist.  In my relatively limited time working in these non-traditional classes, I have seen the para-professionals abused, both physically and verbally, I've seen them change the diapers of an elementary-aged child, I've seen them keep calm while being screamed at, while one child chews his shirt to shreds, another tries to run away, and a third and fourth are about to come to blows.  I've seen them teach the most difficult kids and reach them in ways that most people wouldn't think possible.  In short, the para-professionals have really difficult jobs.  They go far above and well beyond what is written in their job description.  And according to this Washington Post article, they make about $5 less per hour than they need to in order to pay rent for a 1-bedroom apartment.  If you aren't sickened by that, please let me know.

Remember when the majority of my blog posts were about running?

Me & Rip Claw finishing a Christmas Eve 5k last year.

Lately, I've written more funeral/obituary recaps than I've written race recaps, and this is largely due to Thing I Hate #3.  Leg pain from Topamax.  Well, probably from Topamax.  Possibly.  Whatever the cause, (I blame the Topamax, which I was taking to prevent migraine headaches for a little over a month.) I have leg pain.  It has caused me to have many more rest days over the past couple of months than I would like, and I can't seem to get rid of it.  Noticing gradual improvement = Good.  Running 1 day every couple of weeks = I'M GOING SCREWING CRAZY!


What do you hate?  Just one thing, for now.

Losing Words

I have 4 blog posts queued up, waiting to be finished.  One tells about Rip Claw, and how we finally finished the lengthy process of gifted testing and enrolled him in the program at a new school.

Genius!
Well, Gifted, anyway. 

He'll start later this month, and we have high hopes that he'll enjoy 2nd grade in a way that he was not able to enjoy kindergarten or first grade.  In another post, I excitedly started to share my Summer Reading list (#1- Nica of Los Angeles by Sue Perry [Bonus! If you want to solve the vague mystery of my real first name, check out the dedication page. That's me!] #2-#5 Connie Willis' time travel series starting with Doomsday Book and ending with All Clear. #6- One Summer by Bill Bryson which I know I mentioned before, but still haven't been able to talk to anyone about, so I'm pushing it on you again.  Read it!) by rambling on about a dream I had where the ocean turned into buildings.  Two posts are mostly about my running, but also about racing, Facebook, training, life, job searching, migraines, blogging and cheesecake.

Homemade cheesecakes with from-scratch caramel sauce and fresh, real whipped cream might deserve their own post.

The one thing they all have in common is that they all end right around here.



Not this time!  See?  You keep scrolling, there are more words.

The problem, of late, is something like writer's block.  Oh, and I kind-of hate running.  Also, I forget things like I'm a highly paid executive at Forget Me, Inc.  I've been sleeping poorly and making bad choices, like this shirt set that I recently purchased for myself (yes, with real, U.S. dollars).

Hot pink lace bandeau with strappy, gauzy, grape colored tank.

The day after ordering the shirt set online, I remembered that I'm 38-nearly 40!, laughed aloud, and decided that I would be sending it back.  7 FULL DAYS LATER I remembered that I'm only 35, but that doesn't justify my owning anything in these colors, made of these fabrics, or cut in these styles, and still planned to send the items back.  Today, the items were delivered.  Tomorrow, they will be returned, with my apologies.

I do have a reason, or at least a theory, to explain all this nonsense.  Drugs.  Specifically, Topamax, the prophylactic medication prescribed by my new neurologist, Dr. T, early last month to reduce the number of headaches and migraines I get from somewhere in between godawful and shocking to a more normal number.  Both Dr. T and my good pharmacist friend, Dr. B, informed me that, much like with any medication, this one comes with some potential side effects.  (Dr. T actually said that the main side effect would be that all my fingernails would be painted the same color, but that's because I visited him on the 3rd of July after painting some of my nails red, some blue, and leaving one unpainted for the Independence Day festivities to come.  I think it bothered him a whole awful lot.  Funny thing is, I don't think I had painted my nails at all for about 6 years prior to that day.)  Tingling in the hands, feet, and maybe around the mouth, is a common one.  Also, feeling a mental fogginess or spacing out.  "You may have trouble saying the words you want to say; feel a sense of disconnection."  The 10-page paper that came with the prescription also mentioned depression, suicidal thoughts ("call your healthcare provider right away, but do not stop taking this medication suddenly, as that can cause an increase in suicidal tendencies"), and the usual "rare but serious..."

After almost a week on the medication, I started feeling tingling in my hands and feet.  No big deal.  Dr. T had said the tingling would go away after the medicine built up in my body and I got used to it, which was one of the reasons he gave me a titration schedule (yeah, I know words like that 'cause I have a pharmacist for a friend) to let it build up slowly.  About two weeks after, I noticed the tingling all the time, especially while exercising, and my running started to suffer.  My pace kept climbing, which really isn't that big of a deal during these hot, humid Florida summers, but I started describing every run with words like "blah" or "blech" or "barf."  And really meaning it, because I was really dreading every one of them, even though they were marathon training runs and I had an incentive set up for myself for finishing a month's worth of them.

Greek food.  I love it desperately.  Charming hates it almost as much.  What could make for a better personal treat for a month of marathon training?

After just over 4 weeks on the medication, I had my first experience with the word loss side effect.  I expected it to feel like the word was on the tip of my tongue.  No.  I lost the word 'lowered.'  When I say I lost it, I mean it was as if it had never before existed in my life.  Drs. T & B both mentioned a disconnection, and I'm sure that's because other people on this medication have experienced exactly what I felt.  It was as if one small part of my brain was whispering "lowered" and the rest of my brain and body were just laughing and taunting, like, "Ha!  You think that's a word?  No.  Don't use that.  Nope.  Won't work.  Can't do it.  Don't even try.  Not a word.  Never heard it.  You're thinking of ______." And then I think I actually saw a big sad face in my head, because I couldn't think of a word.  Eventually, within what felt like 20 minutes but was probably 20 seconds, I came up with the word 'lowered' and it was the right word, but it was as if my brain had been disconnected from the rest of me.  I couldn't make myself use the word 'lowered.'  Later that same day, I said to still-football-obsessed Rip Claw, "Did you know the Giants and Bulls are playing the Pro Bowl game this week?"  I knew I meant the Bills, not the Bulls, and I knew I meant the Hall of Fame game, not the Pro Bowl, but I couldn't say the right words.

A few days later, I started putting together all the pieces.  It's hard, when your brain doesn't work, to figure things out, but eventually, I did it.  Unfinished blog posts.  Hating running.  Hating Facebook more than ever.  Un-returned phone calls.  Looking forward to sitting on the couch.  Throwing the iPod in a bowl of rice for a week rather than figuring it out that I accidentally set it on repeat.  Letting Rip Claw watch Spongebob for a sickening amount of time.  Letting Cupcake memorize the "Go Potty Go" DVD from the library, yet letting her Never Potty Never.  Realizing that many of my text message responses are "I don't care" or "whatever."  Not studying any fantasy football or doing any mock drafts even though the real drafts are coming up in just a couple of weeks. 

I knew my college degree in Psychology would come in handy someday.  I've got the anhedonia!  Okay, so that's not usually a term used with an exclamation point.  It means I've lost interest in things that I used to care about.  It's another side effect.  Now, listen.  Before you start to worry, I'll have you know, I was screened by a nurse just the other day.  I was told to answer, over the past 2 weeks, how many days I had felt a bunch of things like hopeless, failure, fatigue, etc., 0, 3, 5, 7, or 14.  I kept wanting to answer 1 or 4 or 8 or 6 or 57.  Is that weird?  But, she wasn't worried.  I'm not clinically depressed.  And strange nurses don't want to confirm whether or not you're just anhedonic, or if that's actually a word.  I have had ZERO-as in NOT ONE suicidal thought.  I've lost my words.  Literally, that one time, when lowered was gone, and for the past month, when I couldn't make them come out and make sense on the ol' blog.

Now, you may be wondering why running, having been an almost constant source of joy, drenching my brain with powerful endorphins, is not helping me through this tough mental battle.  Well, it seems like I'm just in a perfect storm of awful, lately.  All my runs in July and August, except for half of two, were solo.  Sickeningly hot.  Maddeningly slow.  That's not fun, but it's still running.  However, I managed to do something to some part of my body somewhere along the way, and now I have plenty of time to reminisce and appreciate all of those terrible runs while I sit on the couch in excruciating pain.

X-rays were negative, there's nothing wrong with my joints.  Doppler ultrasound showed nothing wrong with my circulation and no clots (I wore good underpants again, don't worry) in this leg, blood work showed no sign of infection or rheumatism or whatever else they were checking for.  The therapeutic masseuse concentrated her efforts on the Obturateur externe, Adductor and Quad muscles (Did you know there were four of them?  I responded like she said everyone does to that information "Oh, duh.").  She also worked on evening out my noticeably uneven hips.  Result seems to be that now I'm limping straighter than before.

Time for the good news!  I haven't had a headache in over a week!  I'm still taking the Topamax for that reason, and because I don't think it's the fault of the medicine that I can't move my leg.  Pretty soon, I'll know if it can prevent my hormone-triggered, debilitating migraines.  I would gladly lose many more words to be rid of those for good.

I feel like I should leave you with a helpful piece of unsolicited advice, since that's kinda why I'm here.  So, I'll recommend that you do side planks instead of forward planks.  If you're like me, you hate them with a vehemence because they're really hard to do.  That's because those muscles are weak.  You know what?You'll never regret getting stronger.


Please share a bit of good news!

Greek food- love it or hate it?

A Good Run

*It isn't all about running, Sha.  Promise*

This was one.  There have been others, too.  I remember quite clearly how it felt each time I ran and didn't ever want to stop.  It's easier to remember the good runs when I'm sitting on the couch typing on the laptop than when I'm out in the sweltering heat and suffocating humidity, panting and huffing and cursing at myself in my head for moving like a slug.  At those times, and there have been a lot of them lately, it's hard to remember ever having run before, and hard to imagine why anyone would purposely subject herself to such hardship.

Let me try to explain these feelings for those of you who aren't already silently shouting, "Amen, sister!" Running is hard.  Just because you're wearing athletic clothes and you know you're burning calories doesn't mean you feel thin.  The knowledge that getting your heart to pump faster is a good thing doesn't make it feel good when it seems your chest is going to explode from exertion.  Sweating is totally natural and necessary.  It's also a really grody feeling to have your clothes sticking to you and to have to wipe the salt crust off of your phone's screen after using it because of the sweat that dried on your face.  But then, there are times after a run when you feel like this:

Or like this:

Which is basically, like this:

Much like (I've read) a drug addict continues searching for that feeling they remember from the first time they got high, part of the reason that I (we) continue to run is in search of the overwhelming euphoria of a good run.  The happy news is that good runs are attained more often and in a much healthier, less law-breaking way than heroin highs.

I haven't run many miles, lately, and the miles I have run have not been the most pleasant.  Although I got good news when I talked to a real doctor for a second opinion about my circulation issues, I have been dealing with ever-worsening pain in my left ankle that I think is a tendon thing.  I've had a lot of rest days, hoping to ease the pain and be ready to start marathon training July 6th.  All that rest has made me crabby and flabby and generally unpleasant.  I've remembered, though, one of the cool things about running.  Even the bad runs are at least a little bit good.  Cardiovascular exercise = Good.  Outside in fresh air = Good.  Time alone with thoughts = Good.  So, the running, even with the nagging injuries and reduction in miles and maddening slowness, we'll call it good.  But that isn't the only reason I titled this post the way I did.

I've been at this stay-at-home-mom/homemaker/unemployed worker gig for a little over 2 years now, give or take a few substitute teaching job assignments.  It has definitely been a good run.  I've been able to volunteer at races, at Rip Claw's school, and at our church.  I helped raise a lot of money and put on fun, educational events as a PTA board member.  I'm a regular yoga class attendee.  I have time to write blog posts and follow people on Twitter and keep up with friends on Facebook.  I read books.  I cook healthy(ish), delicious meals.  Sometimes, I even clean.  Best of all, I get to spend almost all their waking hours with my kids.  I feel that I can't overstate how blessed and thankful I am for Charming; for his hard work and commitment to taking care of our family financially.

That's a shadow, not a hole in the top of his head.

Now, the time has come for this good run to end, though.  If I don't get a paying job, then we can't realistically think about moving from our teeny house into a normal-sized one.  If I don't get a well-paying job, then we can't realistically think about moving into my our dream house.

It may seem strange, but a part of me wants to go back to the working world for reasons completely separate from financial gain.  Am I a terrible SAHM for feeling somewhat unfulfilled by my job as a mother?  I treasure my time with the children.  I learn from them, I teach them, I laugh with them, and I know that ultimately, they're going to grow into successful, happy adults largely because of (in spite of?) me.  However, I feel like I have a lot to offer aside from being a parent.  I also feel like the value of what I have to offer the world at large is depreciating the longer I stay at home.  Sometimes, it's hard to see the difference between enjoying a good run and enjoying the comfort of a familiar rut.  I realized that I'm in the latter position when I noticed a trend in the jobs I was hoping to get.  The one thing they all had in common was me, at home.  Hard work pays off.  Smart work pays off.  Laziness does not pay off.  Great ideas, without action, do not pay off.  Yes, there are people who get paid to write blog posts about running and mothering and such.  There are people who get paid to read and review books.  There are even people who get paid to come up with ideas far less excellent than ideas I've had.  I've come to terms with the fact that I am not one of those people.  It would basically be the same thing if I said my dream job was to play the lottery.  So, yeah.  My dream job is to change the world, be intellectually challenged and stimulated, earn enough money to move to a house with more than one bathroom, and still spend almost every waking moment with my children.  But until there's an opening in that field, I'll probably return to where I had my last good run--tending bar.


Wanna hire me?

Your last good run? 

Glad I Wore the Good Underpants

Remember when I wrote a lot (lot) about running and training and races?  That was cool.  For me, it was cool, anyway.  So, here's a quick (yeah, right) update on how the running and training and races are looking in my world.  (You can stop reading now, Sha.)

I have finally gotten back to running consistently.  The problem is, I'm consistently running 4-7 miles per week.  Back in the day (pre-injury last Summer, post-injury last Fall) I was easily getting in 15-20 miles per week.  Remember my mysterious calf pain?  Well, it has pretty much been explained.  I'm still planning to seek a second opinion, this time from a real doctor who specializes in sports or vascular medicine, but here's the gist of what's going on:  My legs blow.  I had (have?) a few superficial thromboses, which are basically blood clots in the smaller veins near the surface of my skin.  I also have (definitely have, not going anywhere) insufficient circulation in the right common femoral vein.

See it all the way up there?  The lady performing the venous ultrasound had to use the wand thingy and do lots of squeezes in that area to check my circulation.  Now you know why I'm glad I wore the good underpants.

I know what you're all thinking.  "Poor thing!  What did she ever do to deserve this?  It isn't fair!"  Thank you for your sympathy.  We'll get back to that in a moment.  First, let me tell you the good and the bad news.  The good news is that I don't have the dangerous deep vein thrombosis, and the back-up in blood flow (reflux, they call it) was only seen in that one spot.  The bad news is that, at least according to my PCRNPWHHADCHATTISH (primary care registered nurse practitioner who has had a different color hair all three times I've seen her- we'll call her CHATTISH for short) this is not a condition that will improve.  Ever.  The tiny blood clots they found were in the spot on my calf where I was having so much pain, which also happens to be where I have icky, bulging varicose veins. CHATTISH said that the clots will break up and go away if I use my hot compress and elevate my leg regularly, but it's also very likely that more will show up as I-you guessed it!-run.  The longer and oftener I run, the greater the occurrences of the clots will be.

Bonus!  If you look closely, you can tell which toenail on my right foot is about to fall off.   I <3 Running.

The more years that I run, the worse my veins and circulation are going to be.  Booooooo!  Now, back to your kind sympathies.  The thing is, I should've known this would happen.  The following groups of people have an increased risk of developing blood clots:

1. Smokers. 

I smoked for 10 years. (Quit almost 5 years ago!)

2. Women who have taken the pill.

Check.

3. People who are on their feet for long periods of time.

Like, say, working in restaurants and bars for 16 years.

CHATTISH said that she would not tell me to stop running.  She said that if I can handle the pain, fine.  She suggested I wear compression socks, but I need to get a pair with slightly less compression than those I currently own.  Not sure why, exactly, but the last time I wore them it felt like wasps were stinging my big toes; hurt so badly that I couldn't stand it.  

Now, on to the training and races! (That exclamation point was a lie.  This part's pretty depressing, too.)

I'm not training for anything right now.  If I were, I would be doing a terrible job of it by only running single-digit miles each week.  If I decide to keep the marathon distance as my goal, and if the pain doesn't get any worse, and if I am able to keep from getting any other injuries, I will start training in early July for the Savannah Rock 'n' Roll full marathon on November 8.  It's the only race for which I'm actually registered (Thank you, Charming!) which is a pretty good feeling right now.  I started reading the second book by the +another mother runner duo, Dimity McDowell and Sarah Bowen Shea, "Train Like a Mother."  It's practically impossible not to enjoy their writing.  

Buy it!

Their stories are so easy to relate to, funny, and inspiring, and I really like the book.  I'll admit, though, that I went into it expecting to be motivated to sign up for more races before finishing the first chapter.  Well, you know what they say about expectations.  Wait.  What do they say about expectations?  "Whatever you expect-------"  I don't remember.  Something, right?  Someone gimme a good quote.  I digress (as usual).  I've figured out that people don't always get their motivation from inspirational books.  Some people are motivated by strangers, and wanting to accomplish what so-and-so accomplished.  I know people who are motivated to register for races by the quality of the medals, shirts, goody bag.  Others, surely, are motivated by some inner drive to succeed.  Unfortunately, from where I sit (with my bulging veins and expanding waistline), all those things which used to be enough to motivate me to register and train for a race seem just to elicit sighs.  

I do have a plan, though.  +Runner's World Magazine tweeted the other day about their 40 day challenge.  Apparently, there are 40 days between Memorial Day and Independence Day (What, do these people all have calendars or something?) and the challenge is to run at least 1 mile on each of those days.  I'm not going to sign up for the challenge.  It was the timing and duration of the thing which inspired my plan.  Since I would need to start training for my third first marathon just after July 4th, and since Memorial Day occurs soon enough for me to keep it in focus, and since my last 40 day challenge (during which I abstained from Facebook) was so successful, it seems like a great time to evaluate.  I'm going to up my mileage and my cross training workouts, I'm going to eat more healthfully (Again. Still? Sometimes it's hard to tell.) and I'm going to make a decision about my near training/racing future.  If you want my advice, you'll also do some evaluating and decision making if you're in a sigh cycle like me.  Let me know how it goes!

For fun: what % of your underpants are "good"?

For the win: which toenail is hanging on by a thread?

Pointless Points

If you've been hanging around here for a while, or if you know me at all, you surely know that I'm an expert procrastinator, I don't freak out when my house looks less-than-perfect, and I love running.  So, here I sit, procrastinating housework while writing about running (and etc.)

• Running has seemed more like a chore than usual, lately.  I have some ideas why this is the case.

1. My dear sister/MIKR (most inspiring known runner) broke her foot.  It's not that I'm trying not to love running while she is unable to do anything involving foot use, but my heart hurts for her.  It's kinda like on every sitcom, ever, when the woman is in labor and the man who loves her has sympathy pains and ends up screaming along with her.  

24 hours post-break.  People who run 50+ miles per week get their toes cropped out of pictures.  You're welcome.

2. I have some non-sympathy pain of my own.  My *expletive* right *expletive* calf hurts something fierce--but only sometimes.  Usually, it's really bad when I start running, bearable after a mile or so, and eventually forgettable.  Sometimes, though, it hurts just to walk, or just to be a leg.  New "doctor" (she's actually an RNP but I don't like using that as a title) ordered an x-ray- inconclusive, a venous ultrasound- more on that in a moment, and an MRI- to be performed tomorrow.  My left ankle also hurts a lot, ever since I *expletive* fell backwards over the *expletive* concrete step on our *expletive* carport and knocked it.  I feel like such an old woman.  The Fall was almost 2 weeks ago, I don't have a bruise, yet every time I touch or move my left ankle, it hurts.  If you couldn't tell, pain makes me *expletive* angry.

3. It's hot.  I'm not complaining.  I would much rather deal with the sweltering heat for 9-10 months a year than snow and ice for any months, but it does make running outdoors much sweatier, stinkier, and slower.

• I've been doing many more non-running workouts than ever before.  Just look at all my figures!

Cycling, yoga, dancing (that's what I call the Classical Stretch workouts I do), swimming, weights, & walking.

Swimming is fun, but I'm still terrible, and terribly slow, at it.  Cycling is also fun, but I find myself unable to push myself.  I'm always riding at an easy pace, which gets boring after not very long.  I love yoga, and I love working out with weights, and I love the 1/2 hour stretching workouts that I DVR.  I've also been keeping up with a 30-day planking challenge, using the Plank-A-Lot app.  I'm up to 90 seconds!

• Every once in a while, I come up with something that I feel is quote-worthy.  Okay, so every once in a while, in this case, means twice.  Ever.  Here are the quotes that I wish others would use and attribute to me:
"The truth is the truth regardless of who believes it."
- Know-it-all-Miss, 1995


"It's not that I'm bad at keeping my house tidy, it's that I love the challenge of a well-designed obstacle course."
-Know-it-all-Mrs, 2014


• Did you know you can make a heating pad that works just as well as a store-bought electric one?  This is money-saving advice!  Unless you already own a heating pad, then you can skip to the next bullet. 

Step 1- Dampen a cloth (I use a hand towel) and fold it so that it fits inside a quart-sized ziploc bag.

Step 2- Keep the bag open and microwave for 1-1 1/2 minutes on high power.

Step 3- Remove the bag from the microwave with tongs, zip it closed, and wrap it in a dry hand towel.  

I wouldn't have expected a zipper plastic bag to retain heat so well, but it does.  It'll stay hot for at least an hour, or until you open the bag.

The instructions I read, though, say that you shouldn't use it for more than 20 minutes at a time because of the possibility of burning yourself.  Yeah, it's that hot!  And now that I've added that disclaimer, you can't sue me if you burn yourself on your homemade hot compress.

• Why is she using a homemade heating pad? you may be wondering.  Well, it just so happens that there is more evidence of my old-lady-hood in my legs.  Remember the venous ultrasound the "doctor" ordered?  They say I have "varicose vein thrombosis" in my right leg.  I was told by the nurse to use a warm compress and elevate my leg for 10 minutes every few hours, and to take an aspirin or other NSAID every day.  The problem is that the Omniscient Google doesn't agree.  OG seems to think that there is no such thing as varicose vein thrombosis.  There is deep vein thrombosis, which is a pretty serious condition, and there is superficial thrombophlebitis, which is not at all serious and not supposed to be painful.  But, it wouldn't be like me at all to argue with a health professional, so I'm going along with the recommended course of action.  For now.
• You know about that big scandal going on in the NBA right now, right?  It strikes me as odd that the last names of the two main guys being talked about are Sterling & Silver.  What do you think are the chances that I'm the only weirdo in America who has noticed that?
• I'm back on Facebook after my 40 day break.  I've learned that Facebook, for me, is like driving a vanful of my friends' kids around.   I love my friends, and I do want to help them out by driving their kids, but they're just. so. loud.  They talk about boring stuff, they're all talking over each other and trying to outdo one another with their stupid stunts, they're distracting and sometimes outright rude, and yet, I can't just ignore them.  So now, I've backed off a bit on my carpool driver responsibilities.  And I sure do appreciate the quiet when all the kids are finally dropped off (at the pool-heh heh heh).
• Rip Claw's first season of Flag Football ended last Saturday.  He is a talented, focused, and very driven player.  I think Charming and I are going to miss watching his games just as much as he is going to miss playing every weekend.  

I guess that's enough pointless drivel bullet points for now.  

Anybody want to place bets on whether or not my next MRI will reveal a stress fracture?

You got the Sterling/Silver thing, right?

No Easy Task

Some of you may recall that I registered for my second first marathon, to be held March 29th.

Unlike when I started training for my first first marathon, I've been pretty quiet about my running habits around here.  That's about to change.  (Fair warning, Sha.)  See, now I don't know whether or not I'm actually going to run the full marathon, and I need to make a good, long list of pros and cons.  Here they are, in the order they pop into my head:

Pro:  The marathon course is one I've run and volunteered on before.  I know it's pretty flat, and pretty.

Con:  Today, I ran my longest distance ever.  13.27 miles.  The race is 5 weeks away.  I haven't run enough miles.

Con:  My feet hurt.  My toes feel bruised, and one of my arches is bruised.

Con:  My calf muscles hurt almost the whole time I was running today.

Con:  A couple of weeks ago, my IT band issues arose again.  What if it starts hurting at mile 5 and just gets worse as I run?

Pro:  I know the folks in charge of the race.

Pro:  It's the only marathon I know of that is close enough to allow me to sleep in my own bed the night before.

Pro:  I'll have a lot of friends and family members there.

Con:  I planned to run 15 miles today.  I took a couple of wrong turns and realized around mile 11 that I was either going to come up short by 2, over by 1.5, or would have to run past my car to meet my goal.  I chose to cut it short.  What marathoner would do that???

Pro:  Most of my family members and running pals are confident that I can run 26.2 miles.

Con:  I am not.

Pro:  One of the worst things about today's mentally draining run (it was also physically draining, but mentally, much worse) was the dense fog that I was running through for the entire 2 hours, 24 minutes, 41 seconds.  (10:51 pace is pretty stinking far from my goal).  I was drenched from head to toe.  The hairs on my arms had tiny water droplets all over them.  I am not exaggerating when I say that I was dripping wet even before the temperature went up over 70⌠£╚.  (Gah!  I always forget how to make the degree symbol.  Anyway, you get it.  I'm not googling it again.  ²?  Ñ?  ◘?  ┼?)  My hair was hanging in these awful, stringy, clumps, and despite the blanket of wet, I was still red-faced, hot, and sweaty.  Discouraged, angry, sad, and sore.  Not a pretty sight, to say the least.  When I finished running, I went into our running group's clubhouse to use the bathroom.  I dropped my car key, struggled to get my shorts back up, had to wipe the seat afterward because of my sweaty backside.  The entire time, I was mentally berating myself for stopping after just 13 miles, while the wussy back of my head was all, "Thankyouthankyouthankyou for stopping!"  Anyway, as I was washing my hands and noticing in the mirror how thoroughly revolting I looked, I saw a sign hung on top of the mirror that read, "Smile!  You're a beautiful runner!"  I did.  Because I am.  I <3 WVR.  Then, I remembered about how pretty my hair looked after I had it colored and cut a few days ago, and that I don't always look like I just swam 13 miles in a hot tub while wearing running clothes.

My biggest problem with selfies is that I can't seem to look at the camera.  How is that possible?

Con:  Marathons are really hard.  I know this not from experience, but because I'm smart.

Pro:  I had a 5-day long migraine that made me want to crawl under my bed and cry.  That was really hard, but I got through it.  I even washed dishes and changed out of sweatpants after the 3rd day.

Con:  Running a marathon is a choice.  Being attacked by Satan himself with a hammer inside your forehead, scrambling all your thoughts, pushing you off balance, making you cry when your family members speak, and using a chisel behind your ears is not a choice.  I've found that when given the option, I choose easy rather than hard.  Case in point, today I ran 13 miles instead of 15.

Pro/Con:  If I skip the Tomoka Marathon, or switch to the half, then I'll wait until November to run a full.  Charming registered me for the Savannah Rock 'n' Roll as a Christmas gift, so I'm in for that one, but racing in November means training all summer.  Also, if I skip Tomoka, the not-enough-training I did do will have been for naught.  That's annoying, when I consider how much time I've spent away from my kids, how many times I've rearranged schedules to run, etc.  But, then, there's the fact that I didn't do enough training.  And then, there's the terrible thought that if I didn't do enough training for this marathon, then when will I step up and run enough to properly prepare myself for a race so long?  Which leads to the obvious question- how can anyone go to the starting line of their first full marathon and feel completely ready?  It doesn't seem possible.

Okay, that last point on the list was maybe not so concisely a pro or con, and maybe more like a glimpse into "Freaking Out" by Me.

I know that not every run is easy, or fun, or rewarding, or will make me want to run more and more.  But knowing that, and getting past it to run even more miles next week, are very different things.

Today's advice is to give me advice.  Should I run 26.2 miles in 34 days?



Check out the update to my previous post, if you haven't already.  

Connect The Dots

The dots, in this case, are the random bits of information to follow.  Yes, I could have written several mini posts, but I think you know by now that I will almost always choose long-winded over short.

• For the second year in a row, my team made the playoffs in our Keeper($) Fantasy Football League.  Although my dependence on the Tom Brady/Rob Gronkowski combo seemed like it was going to destroy me earlier in the season (thanks a load for those 9 points in week 7, Touchdown Tommy), they pulled together when the time came and got me the wins I desperately needed.  This team is the one (of three) with which I most concern myself.  I'm doing terribly in the Free Family League, and I need many things to fall into place in order to secure a playoff spot in the winner-take-all League of Mostly Couples.  Unfortunately, my brother-in-law needs to beat his brother this week to push me ahead in the standings in that league, and, well, that might take a Thanksgiving miracle.

BIL's appropriate team pic

• Cupcake (formerly known as Baby) is thoroughly obsessed with The Fox song.  She prefers the live on Jimmy Fallon's show version to the original, because she likes pointing at the horse with the Ylvis guys.  She asks to watch it multiple times each hour day, sings along ("pa pa pow"), and dances.  It's pretty stinkin' cute.
• Rip Claw (formerly known as 6 y.o.) earned his Bobcat rank in Cub Scouts.  I got to paint his cute little face during the presentation ceremony at the pack meeting.  Charming (formerly known as Husband, because he's like my Prince and my Jax Teller all in one charming package) and I are pretty new to the whole scouting deal, and still a little hesitant.  We like the values they teach, and Rip Claw enjoys the activities a lot.  We're not entirely sure, though, that we're getting our money's worth.  It seems like a lot of expense, time, and effort are going in to securing tangible recognition that he's learned things we have taught him since he was born.  The leaders talk a lot about scouting being a family oriented program, but it is really difficult for us to participate in many of the events as a family, and I feel like we're ostracized if we complete assignments or activities just as a family, without the den.  Oh, and then there's the lightly blanketed racism that seems to pervade everything scouting-related...but that's a subject for a different post.  And they also seem prejudiced against those of us who don't sew or iron.

First time in uniform a couple months ago.

• I'm running again!  I've been slowly building my weekly mileage up, and including lots of walking each time I hit the road.  I also was treated to a therapeutic massage recently, which helped with the lingering soft tissue pain around my healed stress fracture.  I already shared some of the lessons I learned from my injury, but I feel like I'm also applying even more intelligence and thought to my running regimen than ever before.  I'm keeping track of how much water I drink, and meeting my goal of at least 100 oz/day.  I'm strength training, with concentration on my core, hips, and quads.  I've been practicing yoga.  Perhaps my favorite change, though, has been the addition of these dynamic stretching workouts after running.  

Miranda Esmonde-White doesn't know it, but I love her.  She makes me want to hug my television.

• I tweet!  Follow me, if you please.  I am @Rhi_Tweeter.
• My Alma Mater has an Ah-Mah-Zing football team this year.  U! C! F!  Whooooo!
• Nightmares have been going around at our house.  A couple of nights ago, Rip Claw slept  in our bed after a bad dream, which has never happened before.  Last night, I had a terrifying dream about the Governor from The Walking Dead wherein he was tearing the heads off of people (not zombies) with a hook, and hunting down me and the other members of my group.

• I'm currently reading 3 books.  1 for regular book club:

Turns out, rock star stereotypes are sometimes quite accurate.

         1 for mini book club:

Page 1, I decided to hike the Appalachian Trail.  Then, changed my mind somewhere around page 1 1/2.

         1 to satisfy my inner sci-fi geek:

Better than the first (so far) and the "There Goes The Galaxy" was pretty grand.

• Let's see...is there anything else important that I should share?  Hmm.  Oh!  Yeah.  I registered for my second first marathon.  Did anyone else just stop breathing for a second?  No?  Just me, then.  If two marathons could be complete opposites, my first first and my second first are such.  This one is in its inaugural year, local, without rock bands (although I think it would be great if they hired some local bands to provide music along the lovely course) and without several thousand of the participants that ran in Savannah.  It's going to be great.  It's going to be great.  It's going to be great.  

It's going to be great.

       Perhaps my chant should instead be: "I will not get injured.  I will not get injured.  I will not get injured."

I know I haven't offered much advice in this post, but please feel free to comment with any questions you have about my areas of expertise, like barely making fantasy football playoffs, running hesitantly, sleeping on the couch or not at all after scary dreams, and... um... reading!  Oh, and if you need to know every single lyric of The Fox song, I can help.

Trend Bucking

This blog's title is "Unsolicited Advice," a fact which I hope you've noticed.  One of the reasons I started writing it was to share my opinions and my advice, regardless of whether or not folks asked to hear either.  (I also felt it was important to open a discussion on fries and dipping.)  Up until now, though, I haven't really offered any advice to make folks bristle, and I haven't had anyone openly disagree with advice I've given.  This post might buck that trend.

Not my feet.

I'm here to tell you that if you need to, lose weight.  Just do it!  I'll tell you how, too.  Eat healthy, exercise more.  I totally get that it isn't always that simple.  I know there are medications, illnesses, imbalances, injuries, and genetics that complicate the weight loss process.  For those of you with a legitimate medical reason for being overweight, stop reading here; this is not for you.  But for the majority of the people who are at an unhealthy weight, it is that simple.  I realized today (not because of you, or you, or you, I promise) that people need to be informed of this fact.  I'll say it again.  Eat healthy.  Exercise more.

You know what I hear a lot?  "I've tried everything, and I just can't lose weight."  YES YOU CAN!  The "everything" that most people have tried is everything but eating healthy and exercising more.  Think about it.

Pills.  Powders.  Wraps.  Books.  Drops.  Social networking (a.k.a., spending time that could be spent exercising at the computer logging food items into a database, comparing stories with internet friends, and shopping for smaller clothes to wear when you get to your goal weight).  C'mon.  I know you know this is true:  There is no miraculous shortcut.  It isn't that you just haven't found the right pill, the right thing to cut out of your diet, or the right website to encourage you.  It's that you've been trying to take the easy way out of doing something hard.

Here's something else I often hear: "I really want to lose weight, but I just have no willpower."  My (inner, because I'm terrible at saying what I think if it might hurt someone's feelings) thought is immediately, "Then you don't really want to lose weight."  Anything you really want to accomplish, you can.  I'm completely confident in the truth of that statement.  The Ironman in the bathroom stall next to you.  Boston qualified, marathon pacer, mom of 3 boys.  Someone who really wanted to change things.  I could go on for days with examples of regular people like you and me who did hard things.  Me, I quit smoking after over 10 years of a pack-a-day addiction.  I didn't use a patch, or pills, hypnosis or lasers.  I was able to quit because I wanted to quit, and that desire was strong enough to get me through the cravings and withdrawal symptoms.  When you really want to lose weight, you'll have the willpower to resist the junk food, and you'll find the will to stick with an effective exercise regime.

I'm not saying it's easy, I'm saying it's simple.  There's quite a difference.  Healthy eating might mean making a lot of changes, some of which might not be popular with your family.  I've found that planning in advance makes it a lot easier to cook healthy meals, and you'll be a lot less likely to stop for fast food if you have dinner already planned.  I'll give you a few quick changes you can make in order to eat healthier.  Ground turkey instead of ground beef.  Baked instead of fried.  Homemade instead of processed.  Less instead of more.  Vegetables don't need butter, cheese, or bacon added to taste good.  Drink water.  I've got a lot more tips and recipes, and I know how to make really delicious treats that are much healthier than they taste.

Making exercise a daily habit isn't an easy thing, either, but it is so important.  You'll feel better.  You'll look better.  You'll be able to think more clearly, breathe easier, sleep better, and live longer.  It's not a shortcut, but the results of regular exercise can seem miraculous.

So, buck the weight-loss trends, and start losing weight.  Eat healthy foods.  Exercise.  If you want to, you'll do it.


Any questions for me?  I'll happily share recipes and exercise plans.

Got an inspiring success story?  Do tell!

Jinx! Padlock!

Do you remember playing this game as a child?  When two people say the same thing at the same time, one of them, or a random listener, can shout, "Jinx!  Padlock!" and then the other person (people) can't speak until someone who isn't padlocked says their name three times.  Other versions include, "Jinx!  Buy me a coke!" and "Chin!  Dada!" which is really only the version Baby plays as she tags along after 6 y.o. and repeats everything he says.

Hard to believe this kid would follow his parents around the house, asking them questions to which he already knows the answer so that he can say what they say at the same time in an attempt to "padlock" them.  Not!  What's hard to believe is that there might be something more annoying that a child could do for weeks at a time.

We have "played" this "game" a lot (lot lot lot lot) during the past several weeks, which might be the reason why I keep thinking of jinxes.  Let me clarify- I am not a superstitious person.  I believe that there is actually an Ultimate Plan for my life, and that luck, jinxes, and the like do not, in reality, even exist.  I typed those last 2 sentences with great conviction, and I definitely stand by my wise words.  However, you will never again see me wearing my Buccaneers earrings on game day.  They lose every time I have them in!  Once, I wore them during the first half of the game which was, in typical Bucs fashion, a disaster. I removed the earrings during halftime, they came back out and won the game.  But I'm not superstitious.  So, all of the jinxes I'm about to describe are certainly not actual jinxes.  Jinxes don't exist.  (Unless you and the person sitting next to you just read 'jinxes don't exist' aloud at the same time.  Then you're both padlocked.  Ha!)

The Speed Jinx

I love my running group.  You would not believe how kind, supportive, encouraging and motivating this group of runners is.  Aaaaannnndddd, one of the kind, supportive, encouraging, motivating friends (I won't mention any names) totally jinxed my pace.  June 14.  5 a.m. group run.  Afterward, as everyone chatted and basked in the knowledge that their stink was undetectable amidst the stinks of those around them, this particular KSEM friend said, "So, you're like never even in the 9s anymore, huh?"  He was right.  In the 2 months prior to his comment, nearly 40 different runs, only 5 had been over a nine minute/mile pace.  In the 2 months since, only 1 of my nearly 40 runs has been under a 9 minute pace, and that one was at 8:57.

Lucky 13?

I registered for the race of my dreams on July 13th.  I used a discount code to save $13.  The code was LUCKY13.  All of which, of course, means nothing bad.  How could a number have any power over me?  It isn't as if typing a 1 and a 3 would somehow magically make my calves hurt or something...

The Best Laid Plans...

Every mile carefully plotted out in a lovely calendar purchased specifically for my marathon training plan.  Pace goals.  Rest days.  Projected weekly mileage increases.  Ink color coordination.  For someone who loves lists like I do, and loves writing with sharp pencils on blank spaces like I do, planning marathon training was blissful.  But, as they say, "the best laid plans of mice and men and marathon running wannabes oft go awry."

What If...?

Maybe it's a genetic trait.  My aunt discussed anticipatory worry on her blog a while back.  Maybe I've got a previously undiscovered anxiety disorder.  Regardless of the origin of this habit, I often (like, really, really often), try to think of every possible thing that can go wrong, despite my firm belief that it's impossible to do so.  Without fail, it is the things I don't think of that do go wrong.  My conclusion, which makes complete sense in some part of my brain, is that if only I had thought about a stinking stress fracture (maybe just a stress reaction) that would put my legs on the couch instead of on the road for all these weeks in the middle of my training, it wouldn't have happened.  Here are some of the things which will now not happen to interrupt my training or spoil my first marathon:

- Stress fracture during the race

- Migraine race morning

- Getting lost on the way to the start line

- Hotel not having our reservation

- Super cold weather

- Super hot weather

- Vomiting

- ITBS

- Forgotten running shoes

- Abduction

- ACL tear

- Car accident

- Snake bite

- Surprise pregnancy

- Bad fall

- Dehydration

- Zombie apocalypse

- Leg amputation after a shaving cut from a rusty razor

This, by the bye, is a pretty small sample of what I've found to worry about.

Missed Wood Knocking Opportunity

My calves were sore, first, but I kept running.  The pain wasn't terrible, and once I was a few miles into each run, they would feel better.  Then, there was that long, hilly run.  My left knee started to sing in awful harmony along with my calf, and kept feeling worse and worse with each passing day.  Probably 8 different times, I said to different family members and friends, "I'm sure it isn't anything serious.  Nothing broken or torn or really damaged."  Do you think I knocked on wood any of the times that I said those words?  Nope.

This image shall serve to remind us all that I did, at one point not so long ago, run.  I even outran all but 1 person in my age group this time, and earned a medal.  Oh!  And remember how I used to smile?!

Knocking on wood is pointless and silly.  Certainly, doing so wouldn't have changed anything.  Right?  Right.  Although the knee pain wasn't getting any better, and the calf pain was still there, I tried every few days to run a few miles.  The last time I did so was Saturday.  I limped/hobbled/made horrid faces for the entire 1.5 miles, and while I showered afterward, I kept distracting myself with reminders of how many times I had been in worse pain. (Pre-epidural.  Migraine.)  With ice, the swelling went down, but the spot on my tibia which felt as though a very mean, very tiny person was chiseling away, did not feel better the next day, or the day after.  After spending some way too much time researching, and after shrieking my way through the hop test, I'm pretty sure that I have a serious problem.

So, here I sit, trying to be calm, trying not to vomit every time I think about/hear about/see anyone running.  I've decided to take a few weeks totally off from running.  If all goes well, I'll still have over 5 weeks to prepare for my first marathon.  No, that isn't even close to as much time as I had planned, but it is better than no weeks.

If all goes poorly, well, I'm sure there's good reason.  I'm also sure that my marathon will not necessarily be the one that I can't get out of my head right this minute.  I will rest.  I will stay calm.  I will smile.  Eventually, I will run.  My legs will carry me where I want to go.  My regular pace will, again, be less than 9 minutes/mile.  I will run a marathon.  And, I will resist the urge to knock on wood as I type, because I'm not superstitious.

My advice for you today is to run when you can run, and rest when you need to rest.  Oh, and have yourself a listen to this!

Do you believe in jinxes?

Do you worry about things in advance?

This One is Really About Cheesecake

Cheesecake which was inspired by running shoes, of course.

Last week, I dragged (drug?) both children with me to my favorite running/sporting goods store to try on new shoes.  My well loved Brooks Trance 11s had taken me about 200 miles over the recommended limit, and my calves were feeling the effects of the wear and tear.  Unfortunately for me, Brooks Trance 11, size 8, is not to be found. That is, unless you're some shoe-finding god and can get me a pair?  Seriously.  Color doesn't matter, size does.  I tried on the new Trance 12s, among others, and eventually settled on

this bright and shiny pair.  They are the 19th version of the Asics Gel Kayano, and when I was told that this was the only color they had in my size, I started to really like it!  Turns out, they call it Raspberry/Mango/Lime.  It's hard to see, think about, or say those words together without your mouth starting to water a little.  While on my 12 mile run last Saturday, my second run in the shoes, I came up with the recipe for The Cheesecake.

The first thing I did was make fresh lime curd.  It was much easier than I expected, and much more delicious than I had hoped.  I could have eaten the entire batch, still warm, with the biggest spoon in my kitchen.  I didn't, though.

I may have accidentally forgotten to scrape the pan with the spatula until after I had put the batch in the refrigerator.  I definitely did not lick the pan.  It was still hot.

Step two was to assemble the cheesecake.  I usually start with this basic recipe, and then modify it to suit my latest whim.  This time, I used the graham cracker crust, but left out the sugar.  I also reduced the amounts of the other ingredients in the recipe by 1/3, to make room for the items I was adding.  I stirred in chunks of fresh mango once I was "aah done" with the "wowed" mixer.  Baby still hates loud noises.

Nothing to do with cheesecake, not a recent picture, and displays our playroom at its messiest.

See?  This picture isn't nearly so cute as the one above.

I poured the lime curd into the crust first, then added the mango chunked cheesecake filling.  All the while when the curd was curdling and the cheesecake was baking, then cooling, I was preparing the fresh raspberries to play their part.

Sugar, lime zest, and a splash of lime juice.

After several hours of flavor melding, I put the raspberries in a saucepan with a splash of mango Juicy Juice and a smaller splash of red wine.  I let all that simmer for a while (time enough to take a photo),

or, like so many Chopped contestants would say, "Then I let all that reduce while I ______" as I filled in the blank with "kept my daughter from climbing into a time-out chair and tumbling out on her head".  Finally, I strained out the seeds, and after letting the raspberry sauce cool for a while, I spread it atop the cheesecake.

Then, I cut out a slice, and took a picture of The Cheesecake and its muse.

Cheesecake + Kayanos = BFF

I don't know why I placed my lovely, nonsticky running shoes on the kitchen counter.  What seemed important was to find out if the colors on the shoes were actually raspberry, mango and lime.  They are not.  But that's okay.

Of course, I ate the slice I cut from the cake.  Then, I determined that if I ever had to choose one food to replace Husband, like, really had to had to, it would be this Cheesecake.  I must say, I made all the right choices.  The crust, being not too sweet, balances wonderfully with the sweet and tart lime curd.  I worried that the raspberry sauce would be too rich, but when it is combined with all the other flavors, it is just plain perfect.  And just when I thought the treat couldn't get any better, I bit into a juicy chunk of ripe mango.  True story- I sent my sister the following text message:

I kinda want to lock it away and keep it all for myself, like I'm its abusive boyfriend, claiming, "Nobody else can love you like I love you!"

My advice?  Don't touch The Cheesecake.

You thought I was obsessed with RUNNING?  Ha!

If you HAD to choose one food to replace your partner, what would it be?