Fall happenings - and it's not even Thanksgiving yet!

Fall is without a doubt my favorite season. It's beautiful, the weather is exciting and unpredictable and it seems to bring a feeling of new-ness (I will always associate Fall with the start of a new school year, new books, new clothes, new me). Scott and I have been particularly busy this Fall, namely to squeeze in as much as we could before his scheduled third surgery in late October. But thanks to some insurance red-tape, his surgery has been moved to January and we are continuing to fill Fall with as much as possible.

In September I turned 28 (!) and enjoyed seeing my parents the weekend prior. We had a good time showing them around Indy and southern Indiana. My brother gifted me his old Nikon DSLR and I've been trying to catch some good snaps!

In October Scott and I went on a one night backpacking trip in Deam Wilderness. I've never done any backpacking before but I loved it! We ended up hiking in about 8 miles, setting up camp, then hiking out the next day. It was so nice to be lost in nature for an extended period of time. It really highlights how removed we are from it in daily life.







Later in October we found ourselves in Philadelphia/New Jersey for 1) Scott's cousin's wedding, 2) the Runner's World Half Marathon that Scott was running, and 3) Tamerlaine Farm Animal Sanctuary for their Oktober fest.

The half-marathon was so fun to be a part of. Last year this time Scott was on the cover of the December issue after winning the cover contest. They offered him a free entry into this race and it happened to fit into our schedule. Scott ended up placing 9th and smashing his goal; running a 1:20:02 on a hilly course. From there we headed over to Tamerlaine Farm; a farm animal sanctuary run by friends of ours. To be clear, this is a farm that houses animals that have been rescued from farming operations; headed to slaughter, or otherwise living in awful conditions. Some of the roosters had been dumped on a busy highway, an enormous pig Artie was living in a bathroom in NYC, and dozens of chickens had been rescued from the Kaporos ritual. This was something I'd never heard of before now, but it is a Jewish atonement ritual that takes place before Yom Kippur. Chickens are used to 'transfer evil' into, then they are swung around the head while fully alive, and then their throats are slit. This barbaric ritual is still legal in NY because religious freedom is protected under law. It absolutely enrages/confuses/saddens me that something like this is allowed because of archaic traditions that fall under the umbrella of 'religion'. I should note that this is only done by a very devout sect of Jews; most do not slaughter chickens in the street.

Many of these chickens are typical industry chickens; breed to grow so fast their legs break under their abnormal weight and to over produce eggs at a rate that causes ovarian tumors. Many of these chickens have injuries and difficult lives even after rescue - and end up dying prematurely.

It was an emotional experience to say the least. The chickens were curious and affectionate and friendly. I am just so happy there are people like the owners of Tamerlaine out there to provide a haven for these guys.

November has continued to be a busy month; last weekend Scott paced the Indianapolis Monumental Marathon and ran a perfectly paced 3:05 marathon. 

And last night we were again gifted tickets to our friend's six course plated vegan Thanksgiving dinner. The food was INSANE. So fancy and flavorful and beautiful.... 

Main entree: Seitan roast over turnips with roasted carrots and brussel sprouts. 

I'm still looking forward to Thanksgiving in two weeks where we plan to host friends for a vegan pitch in and I'm currently taking another sewing class (garments this time!) so hopefully more sewing projects will follow.

So clearly Fall remains the best season.

"I'm a runner"

I initially started this blog to talk about running - but lately I haven't been doing much of that. I've done some sporadic trail running, but otherwise I've been much more interested in cycling, HIIT, or yoga.

And I'm totally cool with that! Wait, no. I'll rephrase - I am mostly cool with that.

Sometimes having an 'identity' kind of sucks. At work everyone knows that I run, so that is a common thing they bring up. "Are you training for anything?" "Did you run today?" And so on and so on. Same with acquaintances, family.... even my doctors. People get that one little detail about you and file that away. Its no fault of theirs, I do the same thing with other people. But lately I've been left to answer those questions with an "....uh not so much". And then I quickly feel the need to explain why, and blah blah blah.

Which I suppose is what I am about to do here.

Anyways. I haven't been running much because I don't feel like it. That's all. I'm letting go of the labels and just doing and being how I want. Running can become an activity where I don't feel like I am good enough sometimes. I feel that I know so much about it; what is a fast pace, what is a slow pace, what is high mileage. All those little qualifications get stuck in my head and then I start comparing myself to other runners and its all downhill from there. But cycling and yoga I know next to NOTHING about. And it's great! I love being a novice. I have absolutely no expectations for myself, no PRs to look back on, no sense of fast and slow. I leave every session of yoga or time on the bike trainer proud of myself just because I did it.

Admittedly part of my need to always run in some manner had to do with weight. I was constantly concerned that if I stopped running I would gain weight uncontrollably. But that hasn't appeared to happened (I wouldn't know since I no longer weigh myself). Regardless I am really getting over the idea that thinness = the end all be all of life. It's really such a waste of time.

With all this in mind, I am still going to be running in some capacity. I signed up to be a Girls on the Run coach this fall for pre-teen girls in the area! It's fantastic organization that aims to build confidence in young girls through activity. They even made a point in the training to emphasize that they don't care if the girls run, just that they are moving in some way. I know that I spent a lot of time in middle school worrying about being 'cool' and wearing the right clothes and trying to fit in. It would have been really nice to have some activity with friends devoted to confidence building. Especially now since all kids have Facebook and smart phones by age 13 (really, WTF?! I am so so glad Facebook didn't exist for me until college and iphones until graduate school).

Currently I am in NJ with Scott's family relaxing, eating banana whip and doing yoga everyday. And all the yoga here is apparently hot yoga. Holy smokes do you sweat a lot! So who knows maybe I'm on a path to be a spandex-y yoga fanatic. I knew my long arms were useful for something.

Ignorance is bliss

In February I threw away my scale. Before that I weighed myself every morning and agonized over tiny fluctuations. I let those numbers dictate my mood and what I thought of myself. Since I am trying to be more proactive about things that cause my anxiety, I decided the best way to stop worrying about my weight was to not know my weight. I ceremoniously deposited the scale in our garbage can on a Sunday and sighed a nervous breath when the trash was picked up that Monday.

At first I kind of panicked. Not knowing the number actually increased my anxiety. I worried about suddenly gaining even though I've been extremely consistent for most of my adult life. But eventually I began to forget about it. My clothes were fitting just as they always did. I was feeling less guilt over eating certain things. I was not trying to estimate calories in my head. I was able to almost completely disassociate from that number. It was liberating.

So now it's been two months I've gone without knowing my weight. Today I was at the YMCA to run on the treadmills and they have a scale in the locker room. Admittedly I immediately felt relief. Relief that I could finally weigh myself again, to see just how far off track I was and where I needed to be, to have the data, to be in control.

And I weighed myself. I was the same weight I've pretty much always been. Thoughts jumped into my head right away that I used to hear all the time. "Ok, that is fine but it could be better." Or "It's not the lowest I've ever been." This time however, those thoughts were fleeting. Almost a haze I could waft away with a wave of my hand. I got on the treadmill, had a good run and mostly forgot all about it.

That response is STARKLY different than my old response. That number would flash above my head for the rest of the day like a neon sign. I might forgo a snack I would have otherwise eaten. I would anxiously await the next morning, where I could do this ritual all over again and maybe have a better outcome. But now I've realized that knowing vs. not knowing doesn't change anything. I do not weigh significantly less when I weigh myself daily. People do not like me more. I do however, experience a lot more stress, negative body image, and anxiety. People probably like me less since I am an unconfident moody mess.

I personally don't give a shit what anyone else weighs. So why must I put that pressure on myself? I plan to continue my life without a scale. It really frees my mind up to focus on a lot more important things; like what new projects Scott and I are going to do this weekend, or what book I will read next, or how should I go about my first sewing project.

I am so much more than my weight.

Going ons in the little white house

Life lately in the little white house is good. I've been happy to be away from facebook and instagram (for almost one whole week, gasp!) - it's been a really nice way to quiet all the 'noise'. Even if most people do so in jest, there is a lot of negativity and complaining happening online.

In lieu of carving out a life that is separate from what dominant culture dictates, Scott and I have been implementing more self-sustainable practices into daily life. For me this has been focusing on the difference between 'want' and 'need', particularly when it comes to clothes. Excess in our culture is so apparent in our attitude towards clothing. I know personally I've almost come to treat things as 'disposable' after a year of wear, what with the constantly changing trends and decline in garment quality. Though I've always donated my unwanted clothing to places like Goodwill, it really doesn't sit well with me - the constant turnover, constant purchasing...not to mention that they come from sweatshops. So I've resolved to shop thrift or consignment as much as possible. This is already working in my favor - I found a bunch of great things for incredibly cheap at the first shop I went to. I'm also really set on taking up sewing...

Scott has taken to turning our backyard into a vegetable garden. I can take no credit for this as I've only watched him work out in the cold from the comforts of the house. I have been putting all my banana peels in the compost... that counts right?

I picked up a new pair of running shoes yesterday (I realize that this completely contradicts what I am trying to do in the previous paragraphs - I am a hypocrite, yes) and I am in love. They are NOT neon. Who knew you could find that. Oh and they feel great, but I haven't had a proper run in them yet. I was actually disappointed in the Kinvaras I just wore out - they fit great, but the durability of them was pretty poor. I went with Adidas Adios Boosts. And they were on sale.

Tomorrow we head down to Brown County for some trail running, good thing since my trail series starts in one month! We also get to celebrate Valentine's Day with a fancy four course vegan dinner our friend's restaurant is putting on. No complaints here.

Now I'm off to curl up in bed with the cats and watch The Fall on netflix as this week has been ridiculously busy at work and I can't wait to turn off my brain.

Vacuum State

In the past few weeks I've had good conversations with various female friends on the pressures society places on women. We shared similar experiences of overwhelming stress from expectations and conventions bombarded at us through every media possible. I am finding that it is more rare to encounter a woman that hasn't experienced anxiety, depression, body dysmorphia, jealousy and disordered eating patterns. Is that just what we've come to accept as normal?!

It makes me furious. The women I hear this from are intelligent, interesting, unique, creative and diverse. Oh, and they're beautiful too. But fuck that. Fuck that women have to be beautiful before all of those things. Fuck that '20 beautiful women' project on instagram. Fuck that 'love your body' campaign. I am so tired of women being reduced to their appearance in any regard. I'm tired of looking at (non-vanity) selfies where the comments are filled with "so hot", "such a babe" and "you're so beautiful" nonsense. As if that is now the new way to promote self-esteem. How about we don't tie our worth to appearance at all?

You probably realize that I am yelling this at myself, right?

It's easy to observe and criticize societal norms, but actually existing outside of them is something I have yet to achieve. So for the time being I've put an embargo on social media. I realize it's impossible to live in a vacuum - but I am going to try my hardest to develop an identity for myself that is without external influences. Really look deep inside and listen to myself about what I want (I hope that isn't some new age-y form of spirituality). And ultimately mold that into confidence where I can see other people doing their own thing and go "ok, cool. not a threat."

This lack of social media may lead to more angry blogging. You've been warned.

PS - where can I get this sweatshirt seen on Carrie Brownstein at the first show of the SK tour?!

Life through the lens of cancer

Though I never set out with a concrete idea of what this blog would be about, I've mainly only discussed my running. But I realized there is a big part of my life that I've (not necessarily on purpose) never discussed. Mostly I felt that some of the experiences were not mine to share*, but after encouragement from Scott, I've decided to share away.

So, how to begin? Ahem.

I’m in a relationship with someone with an incurable** form of cancer. As frightening as that sounds, the cancer has never seemed incredibly dire or life threatening (Scott can attest to that). However we've learned in retrospect that it was incredibly dire and life threatening, which makes me shudder to think about. But right now Scott is stable. His cancer isn't growing. He isn't ‘suffering’ from cancer per se. He does still experience side effects of the chemotherapy he was on for over a year, but he can carry on with daily life mostly unimpeded. He runs 7 days a week, leads a vegan straight-edge life and is (aside from the cancer) ridiculously healthy. So healthy that we often forget about it.

But no, not really. We never forget about it. It’s always there, looming in our conversations about the future and about his son and about us. Scott, always a realist, jokes about his cancer frequently. “I won’t live that long!” he says when I say I hope we’re weird old folks. Usually these comments bring me down. But of course I think about them too. I’m only 27, I've already been married once, and currently I’m on no trajectory to have children. Am I just going to be alone when I’m old and grey?

Before I get to my thoughts on that let me start from the beginning. I first met learned of Scott through his blog. I’d been a vegetarian and a runner for years so naturally his blog was something I came across. I have read it intermittently since around 2010 and I attribute one of his posts to really bolstering my choice to go vegan. When I moved to Kansas after getting married in 2012 I submerged myself in the world of blogs and social media. I was so incredibly alone and isolated then – blogs were such a refuge for me. I had also at this point, started and then quit my job working in a lab doing rodent research, read Scott Jurek's book and gone vegan for month stretches. I became even more interested in Scott’s blog and his passion for veganism and radical politics.

I remember catching myself up on his blog after I’d missed a few posts and saw that he’d just been diagnosed with cancer. It was surprising and saddening to me – but ultimately he was a stranger. I still felt connected to him as anyone who has read his blog for years can say. Scott writes with so much emotion and eloquence that it’s hard not to feel like you know him a bit. I sent him a card towards a donation fund a friend had set up and remember getting excited when I got a hand written thank you note in return.

But wait, hold on. Wasn't I married at this point?

My personal life at this point and time – about 6 months into my marriage - was spiraling. I don’t really want to revisit the details, but let’s just say my ex was not a positive influence on my self-esteem. I felt like I was walking on eggshells all the time. I had just completely up-heaved my life for him (switched from a PhD to a MS degree and moved away from my family and friends to a town where I knew no one) so I was FREAKING OUT at the idea that it was going to fall apart. I didn't know what I would do if that happened. So I basically was trying everything I could to keep it together, all the while not admitting to myself that I wasn't happy in the least. If anything, my desire to connect with Scott should have been an indicator that something was wrong in my marriage.

So yes, I was married. But aside from occasionally commenting on his blog, or liking his Instagram posts I wasn't really interacting with him. So I knew Scott had cancer, and had surgery and was basically not able to run for the time being. I followed his progress on his blog and Instagram and was happy to see him trying to return to his normal life. But his cancer was still at a distance. He seemed fine and active, but sometimes depressed about his situation.

My marriage ended in August and I completely shut down. I moved out, I deleted all of my social media accounts and holed myself up with Lily (my cat) in my nice new empty apartment. I barely reached out to friends, I tried to hide it from my parents and I didn't tell anyone at work for months. Looking back I can’t believe I dealt with divorce that way, I can’t believe I did it all almost entirely alone. It was a very bleak time in my life.

I slowly reconnected with the world and made a new Instagram account and connected with Scott again. I realized my interest in Scott wasn't just admiration from a far – I wanted to actually know him. After a cryptically flirtatious Instagram exchange, I sent him an email. I had no idea if he would even know who I was (I thought he was blog-famous, we laugh at this now) but he did and we immediately started talking. What started as a few timid text messages back and forth quickly jumped to daily phone calls and skype conversations. I don’t want to bore you with all the gooey details of our beginning relationship, but very early in our talks Scott emphasized to me that if I ever became too overwhelmed by his cancer situation I ‘had an out’.

Did I really asses what it meant to get into a relationship with someone whose health situation was unpredictable? Yes, I did – but the decision was easy. I knew that regardless of what ever happened to Scott, getting to know him would be worth it. And the decision was basically made before I could make it. I had feelings for him that I couldn't just ignore because they weren't convenient. The heart wants…..

Anyways, mushy-ness aside – being in a relationship with someone with cancer can be challenging. I never had a ‘before cancer’ Scott to compare to, cancer was always present in our dynamic, so that seems to make it…. more of a constant? But still, I hate seeing him go through pain and not being able to help. I hate seeing how chemo interrupts his beloved running. I hate worrying that he might die from it. I also have selfish moments of frustration when I realize we can’t plan much of our life out in advance. I feel jealous sometimes of people with a ‘normal’ life who are able to have families and life plans and expect to die of old age.

But I counter with asking if I would rather not have entered into this relationship. No, I would never give up meeting Scott, I would never give up meeting his son, I would never give up seeing him dance like David Brent, or watching TV in bed with him, or seeing him progress his running, or all our conversations about a meaningful life.

I will say, this cancer thing has put me through a lot of scary shit. I've never had a close family member have major surgery of any sort. Watching Scott wheel away to the OR last August was probably one of the hardest things I've ever experienced, and waiting to hear he made it out of surgery was possibly worse. And I know I have to go through all that again, the waiting, the ICU, seeing him in pain…. But it’s not hard. It’s just what you do when you love someone.

Our life is very normal on the day-to-day. Cancer isn't always rearing its head (though obviously I am speaking from my perspective. Scott’s daily experience with it is completely different needless to say. I try to be as empathetic as possible, but really I have no idea). And we’re incredibly lucky in that respect. I work in a breast cancer research lab and the stories my boss tells me are devastating. Scott’s cancer is slow growing and unlikely to metastasize. Many are not that lucky. So like anything else in life, we handle it day by day. And I know every day I made the right choice. 

I might not know what is in store for my future, but to shy away from it is akin to avoid cars because you might be in a car accident. Life is scary and dangerous and full of sadness. But if you try to avoid all of that, you miss all the good, funny and awe-inspiring experiences that make life anything worth living! So I choose to not worry too much about the dying part, life implies death anyways. Its a miracle (of science) that we're alive on this ridiculous planet in the first place. 

*With this being said - I really hope I don't come off all "this is how his cancer affects me, boo hoo". Cancer is not my reality, I don't want to pretend like it is. 

**technically it could be cured with surgery but like everything else, it's all chance and circumstance. 

Defining happiness

What do I want? For a question so simple I find I have an incredibly difficult time answering it. This past week I've tried to focus on happiness, and what that means to me. Does happiness mean achieving this 'perfect' image I have in my head of myself or living the life I want with out self-inflicted stress?

I'm finding it is somewhere in the middle of those two extremes. Perfection is an impossible and useless goal while the latter scenario can lead to complacency. I want to challenge myself, but I don't want to burden myself with the unattainable.

Ok - enough existentialism for one blog post. I don't want to get too serious. This week I ran, I did yoga, I did an art class, I did some tiny home improvements, I tried a new recipe. It was great. I pushed myself on Tuesday with a 7-mile run in the cold and dark, then I took it easy (relatively - ashtanga is not what I'd call easy) and did yoga Saturday morning. I had some company.

So my conclusion is that I have no conclusions, but things are going well.

Mind games

I go back and forth between wanting to share really personal things about my anxiety and inner struggles here - but ultimately I think it is both cathartic for me and possibly helpful to people that might experience similar things. This also serves as a way that I can chart progress as well as remember previous states to learn from. So. With that being said this week was weird. I'll start with the mileage...

Monday: 4.12 miles

Tuesday: 6 miles (2.5 WU, 10 X :30 on, :60 off, CD)

Wednesday: off

Thursday: off

Friday: 3.10 miles

Saturday: 4.54 miles

Sunday: 6.00 miles

Total miles run: 23.76

I'm finishing up a big project at work and ended up working more than I'd planned Wednesday and Thursday, and Saturday I had 9 miles on my plan but only made it 4.5. Not that I collapsed or anything, well, ok maybe mentally collapsed. I emotionally could not complete the run. Maybe it was compounded stress from trying to get things done at work or some critical thoughts I had the previous night, but I started feeling panicky 2 miles into my run, lost control of my breathing and heart rate and felt the overwhelming feeling that I was going to sob. It wasn't due to some thoughts I was dwelling on in my brain - more a wave of 'sickness' that overcame me out of nowhere. I tried to suppress it for a while and get my rhythm back but I couldn't. What I've come to conclude is it was a panic attack, which I hadn't experienced since last July. 

I ended up pulling off the trail and walking through some neighborhoods and embarrassingly - cried some. I felt incredibly ridiculous and weak. Eventually I collected myself and ran back to the car to wait for Scott, who instantly knew something was wrong as he never saw me again during his run. Once we were back at home I shut myself in the bedroom and cried for about 5 minutes. And then it was done. Out. Like a stomach virus that you need to vomit up. It's fucking weird. 

Sunday we met with the group run again where easily finished 6 miles, at just sub-9:00 pace, all while chatting with a friend. 

So.... begrudgingly, I admit that I still have some personal things to sort through. Or am sorting through. Things that are intrinsically tied to running and eating and image. How does one get out of their head?

Training update and recent revelations

I am FINALLY back to running. It seemed very touch and go there for a bit. I would run here and there, then get set back by a cold, then run again... then be stuck in bed...

And just as I was starting to get over the cold again I was struck down the day after returning from our Boston/NH New Year's trip. It probably didn't help that one day I ran in the slushy snowy rain around the city. I was basically bedridden for all of last week.

Anyways, with the assistance of doxycycline, I have prevailed! And just in time to kick off my 16-week training plan for the Mini-Marathon in May. The Mini is hailed as the nation's largest half-marathon (which may or may not be true) and is the culmination of the city's celebrations surrounding the Indy 500 race. I spectated it last year, and ran my first 10 miles in months if you remember, and am looking forward to racing it this year.

Official training began yesterday with 3 miles downtown from work. Scott advised me to start small since I'd been sick for so long - and that was fine with me. The mileage was fine, but the conditions were a mess. It was below freezing, ice was all over the sidewalks and the wind was raging. I took my 5 mile speed work to the treadmill today (1 mile WU, 9:00, 8:40, 8:30, 1 mile CD) and was pleased those were relatively comfortable miles.

Noticeably different to me was my experience on the treadmill. Not often am I running more than 4 miles indoors as that is about as long as I can keep my attention. But today I went in with the mindset of 'training' and the miles flew by. I was there to work. Not to work out. Not to keep a new year's resolution. Not to read a magazine and fuck around on the elliptical. Having one successful 'training period' under my belt has really bolstered my confidence. I've chosen a more intense training plan this go (volume-wise) but I don't have any of the fears I did last time. Mostly I'm just excited to see where I can go from here.

Another realization I came to was how different my attitude has been lately concerning my appearance. I've been reading Derek Jensen's The Culture of Make Believe and it really is putting dominant culture into perspective for me. It is much easier for me to reject beauty standards once I realize that they're a tool to keep us as insecure needy consumers. And are a means to further oppress women, to limit our role to being pretty objects for men. I felt empowered on the treadmill knowing I wasn't running to 'look good' or 'burn calories'. I was there to fucking run.

(Might've helped that I was listening to Sleater Kinney).

Oh! And I signed up for the ENTIRE Dino trail series. That is pretty much a trail 15K once a month starting in March. So yeah, 2015 is looking good!

Looking ahead and looking back

I've taken a bit of a hiatus from running and therefore this blog in the past month. Today I went out for a wet and chilly Saturday morning run (for 4 miles, ooof and it was hard) and I've been running 6 every Sunday with the White Pine group, but otherwise my shoes have sat stagnant in a corner. It's been nice; I've been able to focus a bit more on yoga and generally enjoy the holidays in the warm comforts of home.

With the new year around the corner I am planning out my running goals again. Right now it looks like:

3/14/15 - first of the DINO trail runs (15K)

5/2/15 - Mini Marathon (13.1)

5/8/15 - Cape Cod Ragnar Relay with Team Strong Hearts Vegan Power!

I mainly am going to focus on the Mini, with the DINO run as a bit of a mid-training assessment. Then recover from the Mini and head straight to Cape Cod with a hoard of vegan runners and run a 200 mile relay race. Yoga and strength is another goal I'm going to continue with. My Xmas present from Scott is an in-house yoga studio in the basement. I'm already able to finally do a proper chaturanga (go ahead and laugh, but this is a BIG deal to me) and hold some backbends. 

Of course this time of year makes me look back too - what have I accomplished and learned this year? What was good, or bad? I can easily say 2014 has been one of the best years of my life and that has all stemmed from taking risks and pushing my limits. I've run more than ever, I've met so many interesting people, and I've learned a lot about myself. 

The good: I got legally divorced. I moved to Indiana and found a job very quickly. We adopted kitties. Scott had a successful surgery and surprisingly quick recovery. I followed a training plan. I killed my half-marathon goal. I celebrated a year of being vegan. We rescued a dog (who has been living it up with his new family). I am being responsible about my mental health. Scott was a cover model. We've got a 15 year plan. 

The bad: I chopped off all my hair and have been growing it back ever since. So you win some, you lose some. 

Never get comfortable

Lately I've been thinking a lot about personal growth. I often find I am fixated on "bettering" myself - but my definition of better in the past few years was thinner, prettier, leaner and so on and so forth. While I spent so much time thinking about those changes I was failing to change really anything of substance about myself. I remained insecure, impressionable and unquestioning.

Last fall, post-divorce, I realized that I could either give in to the idea that I was a failure and a divorce was the worst possible thing in the world, or I could change. I could change my attitude, my outlook, my expectations, my goals and my future.

Now it didn't happen overnight. I would wax and wane between feeling positive and crying into a bottle of wine. But eventually I started on a quest of change. So much of my marriage had consisted of me compromising who I was as a person to pursue the "American dream" of a high paying job and social status that I had forgotten what it was to think outside the norms of our society. I started reading again - about ethics, mortality, atheism, science (well I am always reading science), feminism, anarchism, self worth, sociology.... And I've learned so much, and I keep on learning so much.

It seems that after a certain point in life, or one reaches a certain age, there is no emphasis on personal growth. I want to always keep growing, changing, and learning. Part of this came to mind as I started formulating a personal statement of sorts. And I think I've settled on my theme; about constantly learning, constantly experimenting, revising hypotheses and how that applies to life as much as it applies to chemistry. And that for everything I have learned there is so much more that I don't know.

So, to borrow a phrase from Scott; never get comfortable. 

Pups, magazines and easy running

So so so much has been happening this last week that I haven't had a moment to stop and update the ol' blog. Post-monumental I took a full week off of running. Probably more than necessary as I was barely feeling sore the day after, but I was enjoying the freedom to do as I pleased after work. Wednesday I was able to resume my ashtanga yoga class that left my arms and back sore for days after. Thursday we saw a movie, The Theory of Everything, about Stephen Hawking and his wife Jane. I got all excited when other famous scientists were name dropped; Milikin, Rutherford, JJ Thomson....and it might have made me tear up once or twice.

Saturday I resumed running, but something happened before I could run that really has kept us occupied for the last few days. As Scott and I were driving up north to run, we came across a dog walking on the sidewalk in absolutely terrible condition. He was walking slow, had a thick chain PADLOCKED around his neck and had visible bites and blood all over. We immediately stopped, and Scott approached him slowly to gauge his attitude. Surprisingly he wasn't aggressive - mostly timid but not too shy. After seeing him up close and assessing all his wounds we knew we had to do something. It was clear this dog was used in dog fighting and probably a bait dog at that (one used for others to practice on, basically a punching bag).

We kept him in our garage and contacted a vet tech friend who later came over with bolt cutters and supplies to clean him up. He was amazingly calm and loving even though it was clear he had been through so much trauma. We gave him a bath and the water was literally red with the amount of dried blood that washed off of him. He had a substantial laceration on his ear that was still bleeding and many cuts on his head and front legs. 

The dog, since name Django, has now been to the vet, neutered, vaccinated and had various wounds stitched up and is now living in our basement (away from all our kitties) until we can find a proper home for him. He is affectionate and wants nothing more than to be by our side, touching us. I half wanted to keep him myself but I tried to introduce him to our cats earlier today and they were NOT having it. I guess 3 rescued cats is our limit right now. Django needs lots of attention and love to heal from his traumatic past. We're still looking for a home for him, but currently he is camped out in the basement with food, water, heat, blankets and belly rubs. 

Ok - so on to the OTHER crazy thing that has happened in the last few days. Scott entered Runner's World cover contest back in the summer with a great entry about how running has been really essential in his experience with cancer. He's a crazy accomplished runner, with a 2:25:55 marathon PR, many race wins and a true passion for the run. He always is telling me I can do more than my mind thinks and is always offering encouragement for my own personal running goals. I love so much that we can share running together (even if he is often well ahead of me) and all the intricacies of being a runner (ie, black toenails, never ending hunger, whole body fatigue, piles of smelly clothes). 

Anyways! To summarize - he WON! And he is going to be on the December issue of the magazine along with another great female runner who is ridiculously ambitious. I've had to keep this under wraps for the past few weeks, but I've got to hear all about his interview and photoshoots. On Monday they made the big announcement on HuffPo Live and we finally go to see the finished cover. I still haven't gotten one in person but I can't wait! It's not every day you're waking up next to a cover model. 

I can hardly capture everything that has been going on around it but I suggest you head over to Scott's blog to read about it. He's a fantastic writer, a total goof and a 20 year vegan so what's not to love?

Ok, ok so what else? I did another run on Sunday with a group of friends at a nice easy pace, we could chat the whole way and yesterday I knocked out 4 miles on the treadmill. I feel a little aimless without a set training plan so I might write something out just to ease my mind. We're heading back to North Carolina this weekend to visit my parents and I plan to get in some more runs there. So things are good and exciting and crazy but I wouldn't want it any other way!

Some nonsense on personal style

I don't have much to report on running this week. I had to cut my long run short yesterday as I felt like I might blackout two times. I know, I know. Being lazy about eating won't help me run farther.

Scott is out of town this weekend, so I took this as an opportunity to watch every fashion documentary available on Netflix and marathon a season of Project Runway. I have been interested in fashion since I was a teenager but as far as actually wearing it.... I don't know. I seem to like so many different styles and eras but I haven't figured out how to manifest it on myself. My computer is filled with folders and folders of style photographs, I have clippings from magazines that date back years and my knowledge of designers even surprises me at times....

Anyways, I guess all I am getting at is - I like style a lot. I realize it's a thing tons of people don't care about. (Is this the 'intellectual' in me having trouble admitting I like something superficial? Yes.) That's fine. I often have trouble reconciling the capitalism and consumerism that goes hand in hand with fashion (and is why I'd rather say personal style than fashion; fashion connotes designers, steep price tags, celebrity, animal use). But regardless I am still ever searching for inspiration.

And if you're ever interested in a good documentary, Bill Cunningham New York is great.

Qualitative vs Quantitative

I think have been measuring my progress in running by one metric; speed. I feel that success is only a sub 8:30 pace on every run. Obviously...that's absurd. 

Today was mid-week long run on the Monon. 7 miles. Not too bad. 

I worked almost 9 hours today and presented a poster for 2, wore heels, ran errands at lunch time... when I got home I didn't feel like turning right around and going out for a run. But that just wasn't an option. Whereas I used to use those things as an excuse to skip my run, this time I just put on my shoes and was out the door. 

I ran the first 5 miles on the Monon (2.5 miles north, 2.5 miles south) and could have easily stopped back at the car - what I would've probably done last year. Five is enough right? No, I had seven on the calendar. So I ran past my car again, down the other direction of the Monon and finished my last 2 miles. 

And tomorrow is a rest day, but I plan to go to my friend's yoga class to keep my muscles loose and work on my flexibility. 

So no, maybe I didn't knock out this run at 8:30 pace (more like 9:00), but it only felt like a 4 mile jaunt. And I didn't succumb to excuses. I'm also looking at my running more holistically by incorporating stretching and yoga, and watching my nutrition by cutting out alcohol and eating to best fuel running. 

So I feel like I actually made a lot of progress today. And none of it was speed. 

A dynamic equilibrium

My project at work is done, Scott is home from the hospital, and things with running are reaching an equilibrium. I'm now 1/3 of the way into my half-marathon training and I really am feeling much stronger and confident about it. This week I really committed to my training schedule after flaking a little the 2 weeks prior and it. feels. good. 

This week involved 7 miles on Tuesday, easy miles for the rest of the week, and 8 yesterday. I felt absolutely shot yesterday by the 3rd mile, I didn't know what was happening. Rethinking in my head, I concluded that my dinners this week have been mostly soup (excellent for Scott! maybe not enough for me) and that the fatigue I was feeling was due to under fueling. Or the humidity. Or just increase in mileage. Anyways, I was STRUGGLING, but I knew I had to do all 8 miles, so I just did all 8 miles. It felt like my legs were full of lead and anytime I had to stop at an intersection I feared I couldn't get going again. But I made it, and even might run some more today though I have nothing on my training plan. 

And a bit of an aside: I have about had it with my neighborhood running route. It is a nice enough route visually (plenty of trees and interesting houses to check out) but I tend to get yelled, whistled, 'complimented' way more frequently than in the middle class suburban areas of Indianapolis. Yesterday was so out of control that I almost reacted to the last person by throwing out my middle finger but I was too damn tired. In the course of my 8 miles I was 'hey beautiful' ed by one overweight man on his bike, honked at by two cars really close to me, told something possibly lewd by two teenage boys, leered at noticeably from two men in a service truck and to put the icing on the cake - ran past two men getting arrested. I have occasionally gotten shouts of encouragement - one memorable one from a woman on her porch to 'get it girl'. But yesterday it was all negative. I was feeling frustrated and unsafe yesterday. Gah. I think it takes nothing more than a ponytail and running shorts for some men to need to express gender domination. (I discussed this some with Scott, fuck the patriarchy). 

Anyways, I feel like I really have reached a dynamic equilibrium with my running. If some source of change is thrown into the reaction, I adapt and accommodate for the change to maintain my current steady state. See the scheduled miles, do the scheduled miles. 

As far as all the whining and crying I did in my last post... actually running makes me feel proud of myself. It makes me feel accomplished, in control and does a lot for my confidence. So I'm going to keep this ball rolling. And completing a week like this - with what I would call two 'long runs' - shows me I CAN do this. I can run that far. 

Just go for a run

Part of me hates to admit that it's come back to this, but I think my anxiety issues have reached a level that I can't manage myself anymore. I first really considered I had...how do I say? issues last year and ended up seeing a therapist. Eventually I got out of a crappy situation, an isolated town and moved to Indianapolis where I had significant improvements with stress.

And that is still holding true for the most part. But this last month I've really let my stress go unmanaged and it is starting to affect me in ways I haven't seen for the past year. Part of this is just due to a project at work I am trying to finish by the end of the month (ok, most of this), and part of this is due to lack of time (and sleep) I have at home doing regular things since I spend my evenings at the hospital. Surprisingly I don't feel too much anxiety about Scott's surgery and current recovery. I felt plenty before it happened, but now that the surgery is complete, was generally successful, and his recovery is going relatively smoothly; I feel totally at ease about it.

Mostly my stress and anxiety is affecting my running. I feel tired, I feel nervous, I feel doubtful. And I start comparing myself to other runners, to Scott, to fabricated ideas of what I should be doing in my head and I just. can't. deal. And I start thinking I can't do it. And then I don't do it. And I prove that I'm right.

This really isn't making running that fun. 

So right now I am just trying to get back to a place where I enjoy running. Maybe I don't worry about my pace anymore. Maybe I just run as a way to reduce anxiety, not increase it. I'm not sure. I am disappointed that I can't seem to figure it out on my own.

I was sent a link to something called "just shut up and run" but I couldn't even read it. Because I can't just shut up and run. I know it should be that simple. But having it explained to me why I'm doing it all wrong just makes me feel worse about myself. 

I say all of this as I am at work, on Saturday, in running clothes. So we'll put this experiment to the test right now. I'll just... go for a run. 

Forward

Since my last post I've completed my second week of training, and I'll just say thing are going MUCH better than that first post. I spent last week in Ocean City NJ with Scott and his family where I took advantage of the boardwalk just about every day. I ended up running more each day than I had on my plan and put in a solid speed workout on Tuesday. About 26 miles overall, so things are good.

Everything is a little different on vacation. Your normal routine is thrown out the window - which is something my type A personality has a hard time reconciling. But days full of running, root beer and Bashful Banana didn't derail me at all. I moderately maintained my 'fruit rich' eating with a daily banana whip (I mean seriously, ice cream. For lunch. What is better.) and lots of fruit anywhere else. I feel like I've finally discovered the solution to my digestive issues that have been pestering me since childhood. Fruit, lots of it.

So today we're putting life back to normal and starting the work week again tomorrow. But I'm apprehensive to say normal, as in one week Scott will go back into surgery, then recovery for months. I'm definitely nervous, but this has been the plan since March and now it's finally here. It's almost a relief that something is happening, but we don't know what lays on the other side.

It feels strange to have this one part of my life meticulously planned with mileage, workouts, rest days and so on.... and another part with no conceivable plan at all. Maybe just forward.

Inner monologue dribble

Scott prompted an interesting conversation the other day from a seemingly goofy question.

“What would you want Facebook to say about you after you died?”

Not really sure where he was going with this, I deferred to him. Since our relationship deals with mortality a bit more closely than others, I wasn’t sure if this was a serious or a non-serious question. He wanted to hear “That guy said some ridiculous stuff!”

No worries Scott, I am sure that sentiment has been received. I eventually gave a dopey response of “She did her own thing”. I got an eye roll for that. But no, that is really what I meant. I rephrased it. “Genuine. I’d want to be remembered as genuine.”

And the more I think about it, the more I like that answer. As sappy as this sounds, you really are the only ‘you’ out there (save all those genetic clones I made in graduate school), so why bother trying to emulate anyone else? That’s such a bore. The older I get the more settled into myself I become. And none of that can be labeled – as much as I might try. And it’s really for the best. Getting wrapped up in a label or an identity is restrictive and stifling. But I want to carve out my own niche, my own sense of self. A little of which I’m trying to find on this blog here, so please enjoy the journey. 

A learning curve

I forget sometimes that I am 'new' at this. At running lots, at running consistently, at running farther. But here's the thing - I don't feel new. I feel like I've been running forever. I ran in high school (occasionally around the neighborhood, 3 miles tops). I ran in college (occasionally, 6 miles tops) and in graduate school. Last year I did my first half marathon, and that was the first time I'd ever run 8, 10, 13.1 miles. I've probably averaged 8-10 miles a week for the past 8 years.

So now I've steadily shifted to 20-25 miles a week. And yes. That's different. I am now running 4-6 miles on weekday runs. I did my first official 'work out' last Tuesday with the team. 1 mile of warmup, then 4 miles of 1 min hard, 3 min easy, and a 1 mile cool down. I ran a 5K with an average pace below 8:00. I followed that up with 7.5 miles the next day.

So yesterday when I ran 8 miles, something I hadn't done since March of last year, I should have been happy! But I finished frustrated and disappointed. I think I am constantly measuring myself against another yard stick. Other people. I'm not really sure how to snap out of this mentality. But I'll keep you posted.

Uggggh. EDITED

I don't feel very motivated right now. Do I even like running? I feel like I don't have any goals. I don't feel like I'm making any progress (obviously I am not really trying) and I cannot pinpoint what I want to get out of this.

Running on Tuesday I ran 5 miles at 9:20 pace or something terrible like that. I'm really mad at my body and that it isn't doing anything. It only seems to be really good at being stagnant.

I just wrote my 'about me' on this blog and I couldn't come up with anything interesting about my running or my interests. And I just ate peanut butter and it is stressing me out. I quit.

EDIT

I just went to the gym and ran a 25:05 5k.

Foot. In mouth.

I guess that's why I like running.