Puffed Up and Pouty Like a Swollen Creek

I can't talk about Fight Club yet. I am sour on things; bratty and really don't have a lot nice to say. Everything is off, out of place and just plain not copacetic in my little corner of the universe. Yes, I am hiding--throwing sticks and tossing stones and just not ready to come out. Maybe when it is sunny here again I will.

I do feel guilty for neglecting the blog. I haven't written because I am so negative lately. I can hardly stand to be around myself; much less spend time, thought, and words giving it a name, labeling and cataloging it here for you. I can't even find humor at it--at myself and well, that almost never happens. The yuckiness that I feel lately is thick and chewy and I want nothing to do with it and trust me, neither do you.

Yesterday though, when the sun peaked out a tiny bit, I did go for a little run in the morning and while not fantastic it was okay because it didn't hurt, I could breathe and of course, I was getting to run. But I didn't feel great and it was totally disgusting down by the river where I ran: sewer smell, gray and red mud slicks, twisted and broken trees, mushy gravel and occasionally, an impassable flood pool. All that on a mostly paved path.


In the afternoon I was feeling even better and really wanted to get another workout in. But Tuesdays Beau has his theater class . Typically, while Beau is in class, Carmella and I go shopping or go down by the river and she rides her bike and I run along side her. However, having seen the condition of the trail that morning and knowing Carmella's sensibilities I knew that wasn't going to work out. And because of the general lack of resources, as discussed in the previous post, shopping was out too.

So I convinced Carmella to go on a hike.

I convinced her by telling her we didn't have to run and that we could bring Lola.

Beau's theater class is in the historic section of Roswell and right near the old mill.
The mill area has been completely transformed in the last 10 or so years. When I was younger I thought of the area as a bit sketchy but now I am not even sure if I can afford to breathe the air over there it is so fancy and cute in it's pretentious small town quaint. (Hmm, that sounded a bit snarky. See, I told you I am not nice lately.)

I have heard that there are hiking trails over there and I have been wanting to check them out as I am always looking for new places with new sights to put the miles in. I have no idea how long they have been there but as far as I know they were not there when I lived over in that area during grad school. (I lived a block over on the street with all the churches. A huge 2 bedroom for $500 a month with hardwood floors that I had all to my little lonesome. It was cheap and wonderful and that is where I lived when I very first started running. Ah, nostalgia. . . )

At any rate, for those who have not been there and are also in need of a new place to run it looks like there are quite a few trails and they go all the way down to the cliffs at Allenbrook . How long the trails are I don't know-- the maps I saw didn't say but I am really really bad at reading maps. You go and figure it out and report back to me.

The trails are a little technical, probably most like the ones at Sope Creek. I don't know if you can mountain bike on the mill trails or not. I did not see signs saying one way or the other and I did not see any mountain bikers or really anyone else on the trails.

I brought my camera and we took pictures along the way.

This is the waterfall at Vickery Creek.
I am not totally clear on the names since I saw that it was called Big Creek in a few places. All I know is that I use to hang out a lot down at the waterfall off Sloan Street in high school and we called it Vickery Creek and we could walk straight across the top. And sometimes, never me, people jumped off the waterfall.

This is how it looked yesterday. I was kind of scared just to stand near it. Betting no one is jumping off it or walking across the falls this week.
There are mill ruins all over. Most people hate kudzu but one of the things I love about the landscape of the South is seeing the battles between the vines and the architecture. It is a war in slow motion.


Even though she made me promise we didn't have to run. She ran most of the time. Seriously. She is so silly. Running? It is what kids do. That walking crap is for old people.

I have never seen so many mushrooms in the area as I have this summer/fall. In fact, I have been wanting to make cut outs of Smurfs and put them under the mushrooms on the trails I run on. I think people would like that.

In my not so scientific study of local trails in the area and mushroom life the ones at the Lieta trail are the most interesting: bright pink, red or the spotted variety. At Kennesaw Mountain and at the mill trails all I've seen are the brown and white kinds and toadstools.

We walked down Sloan Street to check out the Founder's Cemetery.
I could stand it only long enough to take few pictures. I got chewed to pieces by mosquitoes if I didn't keep moving. I can't believe how bad the mosquitoes are and here it is mid fall.Aren't they usually gone by now? It it terrible. My legs look like I have the pox!

Do you see it? In this picture?

The ray of light? The sun? It is what I am hoping for these days. Trying not to read too much into it that I saw it, however briefly, in a cemetery. However, it is October so I suppose that makes sense. . . somehow.

Maybe?

Mojo MIA

I know. I suck. No blogging. And that is because I am over(under?)whelmed by summer. Can't seem to get it together.

I am desperately missing the marathon but this 90+ degree heat is not making me want to get out there and run at all. I am totally lost.

But I can feel an organization tsunami coming so maybe things will come together and I will once again be a running, cycling, swimming, blogging machine. Right now though I am sloth and slogging slowly through the heat and the lack of child care that is known as summer.

Pray for me.

Doubling the Happy

As I said last post. That is my new running mantra.

But boy today did I ever set myself up for possible disappointment and definitely not running happy by doing a 5k and a 10k back to back. I needed a speed workout and I needed to get miles over 50. Also, as soon as I finish the Twisted Ankle marathon I am going to shift gears and focus this summer on finding some speed. I would like to run a 3:20 marathon next year (really 3:23 but might as well shoot for 3:20).

At my current level I don't have the raw speed to support a 3:20 marathon. So before I set myself up for too ambitious goals I need to make some speed gains at the shorter distances. The McMillan Calculator is a pretty handy tool for figuring out training paces and setting races goals based on recent race times and various distances. But let me warn you: the calculator is just a tool, not a contract. So don't get your heart set on anything you may see there. Like it has been telling me based on my shorter races that I can run a 3:24 marathon. That hasn't happened yet. But to me this just means that if I can get faster at the shorter distances than I am now that I might see such a marathon eventually. . .

So, yeah, anyway . . .

My goal for the 5k was to PR--which is anything better than 21:10.

My goal for the 10k was to run next year's goal marathon pace which is (hopefully) 7:35-45 range.

And today . . . I met one of my goals and exceeded the other.

I ran VERY happy today.

Okay, that isn't entirely true. I felt like hot dog poop the entire 5k except the first 30 seconds. But for the 10k I felt AWESOME almost the whole time--until the last 1/4 mile where suddenly I felt like I was moving in slow motion.

You know I can drag anything out so here is the long race report but I have pictures too to help you wade through my lengthy discourse.

Here I am driving to the race:

It is early!

Here is the sun coming up as I drive down Willeo. This road sucks. It screws me on the bike. It is a long down hill that we ride to the river--after several miles of uphill. The downhill is fabulous but it is little reward for the uphills you just rode because you always have to stop at the light. And that takes all the fabulousness out of the downhill because you have to remember to down shift so you don't fall over when the light changes because you are in a high gear. Then leaving the river you have to ride up Willeo. It isn't hard just really really long. You just can't win on this road is all I am saying. But it looked pretty this morning. Ignore my dirty windshield please.
This morning was also warm. It is probably going to be the warmest day we've had all year. The sun wasn't even up and my car said it was 58 degrees. The high today is suppose to be in the 80's. For the 5k I would say it was about 60-65 and for the 10k it was probably almost 70 at the finish. Driving back my car said 74. Luckily the race was by the river which is one, mostly shaded and two, you get a bit of cool breeze coming off the river for most of the run. Oh it helped that both course are pretty flat. Hills and heat are never my friend.

I got to the start and found Doug.
Doug was running the 5k/10k double with me (we are also running the Twisted Ankle Trail marathon in a few weeks together too).

His wife Steph was pushing the girls in the jogger for the 5k and then taking the girls to do the fun run.

Doug and I have known each other since middle school. He and his guy friends use to call me in the middle night and tell me what they wrote in sharpie on whoever had the misfortune of passing out first (usually Ross). Steph we met our freshman year of college. The three of us live very close and have been training together for the past 3 years.

Unfortunately Steph has had plantar fasciitis pretty bad and has been sidelined for awhile now. But she is starting to make a come back.

Here is Steph also with her sister Jen. I think this was to be Jen's first 5k. But just before the start she got the call to come catch a baby and had to leave. (she's OB/GYN). Congrats to whoever had a baby today!

Then I had to put my camera away because I didn't want to run with it. Doug and I lined up the front. He had us smack in the middle and I insisted we move to the side. Finally some of the really fast boys showed up and got in front of us and I felt better about everything.


Mayor Woods, in his bow-tie said go. Really. He said "go". I was kinda waiting for a horn or a gun so I a bit caught off guard.

As I mentioned before I felt pretty good the first 30 seconds. I knew I was going to run fine since my calf hadn't bothered me at all in my warm up. I had been worried since I ran 21 miles Tuesday (8:26 pace) and then 12 (8:14 pace) on Thursday. Sometimes I recover fast; sometimes I don't. I usually don't know until I try to run fast. I could run every single day so long as it was slooowwwww. Fast (again fast being a relative term) is always hard for me: it takes more out of me than long runs.

The only split I have for the 5k is the first: 6:12. Totally ridiculous. I have never run a 6:12 mile ever that I know of.

The first mile and a half I was right beside or on the heels of first and second women. They had racing flats on. Me? I had my marathon trainers on. Clearly, not a professional. As is always the case in a 5k I begin to fade hard and the girls pulled away from me. I cheered for the first place guy as he passed me when I was approaching the turn around. I think I surprised him cause he looked at me like I was crazy. But I wanted to let him know that 2nd place wasn't that far behind him. Just trying to be helpful.

At the turn around I saw Doug and we high-fived. Then in mile 2 I passed Steph going out and we high-fived. The guy manning the traffic at Riverside and Dogwood threw me a thumbs up and I gave him one back.

Just as I was approaching the 3 mile marker Doug surged past me. I thought bastard but yelled "Go Doug!" He beat me by 5 seconds (but I beat him in the 10k.)

I ran down the finish and hit my watch for 20:49!!!!! A 21 second PR. Not smashing, I know, but my goal was to Pr and (secretly) to run under 21. So I did it! I was 3rd woman over-all and first in my age group.

My friend Todd--who I must give a shout out for having just run 2:54 at Boston this week--was handing out flyers for the Big Peach 5k and congratulated me.

Some old man told me if nothing else I won for best hair style. I appreciated that since this is the only hair style I can do that doesn't leave my hair a matted mess of dreadlocks. Glad someone thinks it looks good.

Doug and I filled out our cards, grabbed some water and I had a Gu and checked my watch: 7:55 am. The 10k was starting in 5 minutes and we had a bit of walk to get to it so we high tailed it to the start for the 10k.

The 10k didn't start promptly at 8 am as I thought it would. Which was probably good since it gave my heart a little more time to get out of my throat. My plan was to run the first mile recovery and then see how much I could push it. We lined up mid pack and waited.

Finally we were moving. And instantly I was ready to roll. I weaved through the crowd and tried to remind myself to take it slow. When I passed the guy manning the intersection at Dogwood and Riverside he did a double take and gave me a little applause. Guess he remembered me.

I was both surprised and happy at the first mile split being 7:15. I was feeling really good! Today? Today I LOVED 10k's. Much better than the 5k.

Check out my splits:
Mile 2: 7:15
Mile 3: 7:15--3/4 of this mile was on gravel road. I thought I would slow but I didn't.
Mile 4: 7:29--I walked an aid station to drink some water. I also saw on the turn around that I was probably in 4th or 5th place for the girls. This really surprised me.
Mile 5: 7:14 Still feeling really good. Pass guy at the intersection again and he gives me 2 thumbs up. I throw one back to him.
Mile 6: 7:22 I started to slow a bit in hopes that I could really sprint it out.
Mile .2: 1:54 Unfortunately as soon as I passed the 6 mile sign I felt like I was suddenly moving in slow motion or wading through molasses. I was very hot and, well, suddenly, tired.
But the finish was there and I crossed at 45:47 for an average 7:23 pace.

I was 31st over all, either 4th or 5th woman and 2nd in my age group. Not a bad day at the races.

More pictures:
Annika with her award

Dagny with hers (I told her to hold it up)


Doug was first in his AG for the 5k. He did not want me to take his picture.


And me, with my bookends:

Doctor Office Observed: An Introspective

So I have NOT been running.

I am sick AGAIN as of Wednesday.

This time a soul sucking sinus infection is to blame. Its drippings make me cough like an oxygen tank toting octogenarian with a 3 pack a day habit. But my lungs are clear. Small favors for sure.

Antibiotics are kicking the sinus infection to the curb and I could probably run but I am looped out on cough syrup and some other drug that makes me feel all floaty. The cough drugs are preventing me from coughing which in turn keep my airways from spasming and allow me breathe A OK. Again, small favor since I can't run. All this breathing is just for waste if not spent running (or swimming or cycling), right?

So I may be breathing better but other than that I am a complete waste of flesh. Is this why the lives of people who are addicted to pain killers and other drugs go to pot? Cause I'm kinda in a whatever, that's cool state and I can tell you that I am NEVER like that. I am never chill. But I don't even think I could have an angry thought right now if I tried and it is freaking me out a little. I am almost comfortable just sitting here doing nothing, staring out the window, letting the kids have at their bags of Valentine goodies . . .

I have been questioning this line of treatment the doctor I saw prescribed: Azithromycin 3 day pack, Robitussin DM 2 TABLESPOONS every 4 hrs (triple dose), Tessalon, and Albuterol inhaler. He also prescribed a steroid inhaler but I passed on it since it cost $100. Figured if I really needed it I would go back and get it.

Sinus infections and I have been well acquainted since I was in high school and my allergies took a nasty turn. Of course the severity of infections have varied and sometimes require stronger medication but there is always the usual arsenal (usually antibiotics for 10-14 days, Flonase) and this treatment is decidedly a little different.

I saw a new doctor.

But that really isn't unusual.

I don't have a regular doctor. And that is because as small business owners we pay for our insurance out of pocket. Those of you that work for companies who pay for your insurance should count yourselves extremely lucky. Our monthly premium for insurance rivals (and sometimes has exceeded) our monthly mortgage payment. Never mind co-pays and stuff not covered. And because we own our business and pay out of pocket for insurance the insurance company, after the first year with them, can raise our premiums every 6 months. I continually have to shop other insurance companies for the best rate-- which often means whatever doctor I have been seeing is not covered. Generally speaking we swap about every other year between being covered by Kaiser Permanente and some other insurance company like Coventry (who we currently have). I have regular doctors for myself and the kids at Kaiser that I see when our insurance is under Kaiser. And my stipulation when having to choose an alternative insurance company is that they cover the pediatrician we see when we do not have Kaiser insurance. If they cover other doctors I have seen outside of Kaiser? Great. If not? Doesn't matter. I will find a new doctor. So at the very least I only have to swap medical records between two different sets of doctors for the kids. I have had to do this three times so far since Carmella was born. That is 3 times with Kaiser and 3 times with different insurance companies in 8 years.

(But Obama is going to save me from all this hassle, right?)

For this reason, I have been privy to the insides of many doctor's waiting rooms and offices. Certainly they all have some similar characteristics: reception area, examine rooms, nurses' station, triage/lab area, the doctor's office etc. What differs is the decor. For the most part I think doctor offices strive to have decor that you do not notice. At least that is what I have to think because most of it begs: Do not look at or remember me. I am bland and the same as the next doctor office. Completely uninspiring.

Wait.

That part is not true of offices that cater to children or of psychiatrist offices (not that I know anything about that). Those are usually fairly well decorated and at the very least not bland. Generally they have better art. Sometimes original instead of framed prints of floral arrangements bought probably by the receptionist at one of the side of the road art sales. Oh, and I suppose I will concede that in-town doctor offices do tend to have better decor but really it is all, for the most part, pretty uninspiring, completely forgettable.

And that is what I figured about this last doctor I saw. At first. Ryan had warned me that it was "weird"there but I just kind of ignored him. Ryan is the one who gave me this cold. He has been sick with it for 2 weeks and I finally insisted he go to the doctor. He had seen this doctor over the summer when he had a tick bite and was convinced he had Lyme disease. (He didn't.)

As I mentioned before I was sick a few weeks ago with a nasty chest infection. I had found a doctor I really liked. Now if there was ever an uninspiring waiting room theirs was it. The chairs? The worst. I had to push them together and lay across several when my fever was spiking. I did fall asleep so they weren't totally uncomfortable but then again, I was in no position to be picky that day. It was actually pretty funny. You could have drawn a line down the room. Me on one half and all the other people in the waiting room on the other half. No one wanted to be near me.

They also had a tile floor and a flat screen TV that showed some repeating clip about flu precautions. All that money on a fancy mounted flat screen and you aren't going to put CNN on? Their magazines were crap also. I think they spent all their money on the TV and had nothing left for furniture or decor. BUT the office was new and clean. Huge pluses in my book.

And I would have gone back but I knew they didn't have an x-ray machine and I wanted to get a chest x-ray. Otherwise, what would have happened is that I would have spent $20 to see them and then they would have sent me somewhere to get a chest x-ray for which I would have paid $60 dollars to get and then I would have to bring the films back and pay another $20 copay to have them read the films to me.

I may not be be fabulous at math but after how much I pay per month for insurance I like to try to get the most bang for my $20 copay. When Ryan returned home from his doctor visit he told me that they had taken an x-ray of his sinuses. Prefect, I thought. So I tried to get in Wednesday with his doctor after spending all night coughing but they couldn't fit me in until Thursday. Boo.

Going to the doctor on Thursday was the main event of my day. And it did not disappoint.

Truth told I like to go to the doctor. Exhibit A-- for those that may have missed this from a previous post-- at 23, having not been sick for several years I went to the doctor and demanded a series of tests because I was convinced I had a disease that was killing all the other diseases. Really, I think I just missed seeing a doctor.

I like the attention and usually they say nice things to me since I tend to take fairly good care of myself. Also, when I am sick I tend to illicit lots of sympathy from strangers. They feel really sorry for me and are extra kind to me. This is absolutely not true of people who know me. People who know me are slightly annoyed by a sick Nat. That's okay because I am annoyed by sick people too.

So of course, on Thursday, I arrive early for my appointment prepared to fill out lots of paper work. This is one of my favorite parts of visiting a new doctor-- besides getting to see their office decor. I love that I am given pages that ask questions about ME! In a test like form no less! The only thing that would make this experience even more fabulous for me would be getting to fill out a bubble sheet with a number 2 pencil and write a 4 page essay about my health.

I checked in with the receptionist and handed over my driver's license, insurance card and credit card before she even asked for them and anxiously awaited to be handed the paperwork. All the while I am doing my cough that Carmella says sounds like a car that won't start. The receptionist, who hands me my clip board says "You poor baby. We are going to fix you right up!" A man and his wife who are waiting to be seen echo additional sympathies and further that their grandchildren have similar coughs. It is going around they all chorus. The nurse pops in the waiting room and tells me she will be with as soon as possible. Everyone is so nice! So happy to be at the doctors!

As I go to sit down and fill out my paperwork the receptionist tells me the silver lining to being sick is that my husband will cook dinner tonight. I tell her, between hacks, that isn't going to happen. Audible draws of breath and if they all had feathers they would have certainly be ruffled by this admission.

The receptionist says "Chinese food then. He will pick up Chinese food."

Nothing could sound more terrible to me at the moment, well except eggs and fish which always sound vile. The mention of Chinese food begins a lengthy conversation about where the best Chinese food in Atlanta can be found. Buford Highway. And ends being punctuated that Dim Sum? Is to die for. I participate in this conversation with hacks and failed engine coughs and occasionally by blowing my nose to make my point.

Generally, if I am lucky, there is usually another person filling out new patient paperwork and I can race them. I am a very fast test taker and I think it is pretty clear from this blog that I treat all of life's tiny endeavors as a competition if I can at all make it one. Sadly though I was the only new patient and as a result I was able to be a bit more thoughtful in my answers. And by thoughtful I mean excessively long winded.

The new patient paperwork was rather run of the mill until I got to these questions:

Do you like to have a good time?
What do you do for fun?
When was the last time you had fun and what did you do?

I started to rattle off my responses and then paused.

Perhaps this was a trick question? One designed to trip me up and contradict a previous answer I had made--you know like in those personality tests that will ask the same question phrased six different ways.

At that moment the music that had been playing stopped. I can't say what the music was exactly only that I noticed once it was gone. And I sat there another minute trying to remember what had been playing a second before. Funny how I don't notice the noise but rather the absence of noise.

So I answer my questions:
Of course, always.
Run, ride my bike, be outside, go to parties.
Saturday, had a party. Sunday, rode my bike. Tuesday, ran 12 miles.

Happy with my answers I turn in my paperwork and the receptionist asks me if she can get me some water and I tell her it won't matter. The gentleman whose wife is now being seen tries to engage me in a conversation. I notice the music is back but I can't focus on it since the gentleman and I are talking. Something vague, uptempo and without lyrics. Like elevator techno music, maybe.

Finally I am called back and told to go to "The Big Room". I look around puzzled and the nurse, who is humming along to the music, points to the room she wants me to go to. On the door is a label. It says, "The Big Room."

I sit on the examining table which is of the newer type. I say newer type to differentiate between the older type. The older type examining tables are like what my children's pediatrician has in their office. The pediatrician office is the same office I went to as a child. Well, and as an adult until my pediatrician complimented me on my bra. I was 25. He was a great doctor! I loved him!

My pediatrician died a few years ago but the new pediatrician kept all of his decor: the examination tables-- which are just plain wood tables with a thin mattress and sheet and shelf beneath for books and magazines, paintings (Rockefeller prints), waiting room furniture (brown plaid couch, blue floral chair, wood backed uncomfortable chair), end tables (chests), monkey lamps (left over from when he had a circus theme, later a zoo theme.)

The nurse flits about the examine room getting my bp, asking me questions and humming along to the music. She looks over my paper work and says, "So you like to run." I confirm that is true and then she leaves. I am sad that I didn't get to tell her more about just how much I love to run. It was like she didn't really care.

I wait for the doctor and look at the room. Pretty boring and typical. Definitely not updated but nothing too out of the ordinary. After a few moments the doctor arrives and introduces himself. I tell him my litany of symptoms and remind him that he just saw my husband. I tell him about my chest infection a few weeks ago and I am worried it might be back and that most of all I just want the coughing to stop. So after a quick listen at my lungs and a check at my nose and ears he orders a sinus and chest x-ray. He seems thrilled about it. Which makes me happy that I am not the only one excited about x-rays. I love getting to see my bones!

He leaves and the nurse comes back and directs me to the x-ray room. I notice as I walk down the hallway that someone has had a good time with a label maker. I don't really notice what the labels say except that there seems to be quite a bit of labeling going on. I am also trying to note the other decor. Decidedly ugly; a bizarre mix of tschotsky and old lady taste. Instantly I wonder if maybe he had his grandmother decorate his office. Then I decide he must have inherited them from her when she died and she left him the contents of her West Palm condo. The tea set I noticed set out in his office just didn't seem like something a man would choose, gay or not.I am not saying this doctor was gay because I don't think he was I am just saying that I don't think even a gay man would want this particular tea set. It just wasn't fantastic; more Pier One than Tiffany's.

Once in the X ray room, which I failed to note what this room was actually labeled, I had to first do a breathing test. I have had to do many of these and I was familiar with the machine they had. Because it was the exact model that I used when first diagnosed with asthma at 18. So it was pretty old school. In fact, so was the x-ray machine. I imagined that he must have obtained the equipment in some sort of doctor office state liquidation auction. Either that or he also got them out of his grandma's West Palm condo. She must have willed breathing machine and x-ray equipment to him on the stipulation he could have them but he must also display her prized tea set.

The best part of the whole breathing test and x-ray was that the nurse cheered me on the whole time. Go go go go! Yes! Score! Okay one more time.Sweetie you can do it! Okay, third time's a charm! And when she wasn't cheering she was humming.

And then as she measured me she cheered at each and every measurement and then told me where to stand for my x-rays. I then noticed more of the label maker at work. Remove your Jewelry. Said one label above the x-ray machine. And then when I got in position-- right at eye level, an inch from my eyes-- another label: Did you remember to remove your jewelry?

After the x-rays I was told to go back to my room. Which she asked if I remembered which one it is. I think maybe she was being funny because I think it was the only one but she reminded me it was "The Big Room."

So I went back to The Big Room to wait and as I walked in I noticed another door in the room that I didn't see before. It said "The Chamber of Secrets".

Yes! I was very tempted to open the door and sat there contemplating it for several long minutes. I am certain this is exactly how Adam and Eve felt about that tree of knowledge in the garden of Eden. Okay kids, I imagine God having said; you can have anything you want in this here garden but you need to leave that fruit on that there tree alone.

The Chamber of Secrets was just begging for me to open it; just like the fruit on that tree was begging to be eaten.

But I guess unlike Eve I am obedient,  because I didn't open the door. Though I did think quite a bit about what was in The Chamber of Secrets. . .

And then the Doctor came back and told me my lungs were clear and that I had a soul sucking sinus infection that would last all the days of my life unless I took the medicine.

And as I left and I walked out of the office to my car I swear I saw Cherubim with a flaming sword guarding the door.

On going long . . .

Two days after the Museum of Aviation marathon and 2 days before I became so deathly ill I couldn't move from the couch for three days because walking up a flight of stairs winded me so much I would nearly pass out, I had my hair cut.

No no no.

Not a lot.

It still looks exactly the same as always except it is 2 inches shorter, maybe. The idea of shoulder length hair frightens me so the notion of me with short hair is just completely inconceivable. My short hair phobia is Lala's fault. When I was three and a half Lala chopped all my hair off because I got gum in it and the resulting hair cut made me look like a boy. And considering how offended I was that the Aviation Marathon recorded me as male and that I proudly wear a Run Like a Girl shirt I am sure you understand that I definitely do not want to look like a boy.

Why?

Because I am a girl.

So I will have long hair until I can just no longer have long hair. Which Lala is, well, 21 years older than me and until recently she had long hair--and I wouldn't be surprised if she grew it out again since she tends to favor long hair too. So, I think I will get to have long hair for at least another 20 years if it is at all genetic. I do wonder though how and when that grandma hair happens. Is it a slow evolution or does it just happen when you turn 80?

Darn it all.

I am already getting off the subject. Sorry, I am never one for the short or concise, in anything. Which is slightly ironic considering my short attention span but even when I was an art major I never could embrace the "less is more" concept that was so often parroted to me in critiques.

So anyway, not sure if I mentioned it before but my sister Pookie cuts my hair. She is a hair dresser by profession. She's pretty cute too. Here she is with me at party last month:

Which I should add that she did not last long at that party. Oh, wait here is another of us at the same party:

I know I look like the drunker sister but really I wasn't. I don't need alcohol for shenanigans. It helps; but it isn't necessary.

Anyway the party isn't my point. Just wanted to give you a visual on who is Pookie.

Pookie lives in town--ITP for the Atlantans in the house. Me and most of my extended family are OTP and live in the suburbs north of the city. Pookie is nice and drives up here and cuts or colors all of our hair here so we don't have to drive in town and go to the salon. Which would also cost more. So whenever she is up here with her gear I try to make sure I am around to benefit. Generally she does the cutting at Lala's. Which is fine by me since it is only a 10 minute drive to their house from mine.

Okay, so now I am almost to the point of my whole story. So pay attention. I'll set the scene:

Pookie is cutting my hair in Lala's kitchen. Carmella is sitting on the counter next to where I am standing doing a running commentary of everything. Beau is running around the kitchen talking guns with Pop-- who was eating a bowl of the $100 She-crab soup Lala had made the day before. I joke that after I finish getting my hair cut I am going to the grocery store and hope to spend around $100 for 5 days of groceries.

Lala is walking around with her hair in foils waiting for her grays to go blond or brown or whatever it is Pookie does to her hair. And I am just trying my hardest to hold still-- which by the way is very very hard for me to do and I am failing miserably because Pookie keeps letting out exasperated sighs at me. I am also worried she is going to poke my eyes out with her scissors so I am trying to be quiet, which is also hard for me to do.

Pookie changes the subject to running and asks Carmella if she is going to be a marathon runner like me.

Carmella empahtically tells her, "No. Running is boring. It takes too long."

And Pookie says, "You could run track-- or cross county in high school."

And Carmella with her wide brown eyes saucered with disbelief and confusion says:
"You mean like run to New York-- or California? People do that?"

Down for the Count

Of two.

Who?

Me.

Wednesday my Kindzia streak of consistently working out everyday for at least 30 minutes since 12/31/07 ended.

That's right. I caught Beau's stomach bug.

Holy moly. It was awful. I haven't been that sick in well, since last December when I had pneumonia or whatever the hell that month long chest rot I had then was. Really, though, this time was much worse than not being able to breathe. I just laid in my bed for 2 days and writhed in pain. I will spare you the ugly details since I can assume that you have probably at least once in your life succumbed to the perils of a stomach bug.

And I do feel lucky because my kids are older. Nothing. I mean nothing is worse than having a stomach bug and having to care for a toddler. Baby, not great. Preschooler, still not good. Kindergartner and second grader? Still not fun but with the older ones there is considerably less laundry as they are proficient in getting to the toilet to upsie or you, know, downsie. And babies, well, most of them are breastfed or still mostly bottle fed and well, a stomach bug on a liquid diet? Really how is that any different than everyday? But the toddler. They are mobile. And diapers? They leak. Oh God. It is everywhere.

So yeah, that was my silver lining. I don't have a toddler. Oh, and I also got lucky in that only one of my kids was sick when I was. Right, the easy one. Well sort of. No, not really in this case.

Sigh.

Carmella.

Bless the sweet pea's heart. She thinks just being human is creepy. So she is sort of a pathetic patient because she is so freaked out by the very idea of bodily functions so it is so much worse when they actually happen to her. Beau, on the otherhand, is sort of in awe about. He is like, whatever. I threw up. Can I go play at my friend's house now?

With Carmella there is hyperventaliating. Crying. Pacing. Writhing. Yeah, like two of me. We were in competition for who was more pathetic. And since she is seven who do you think won? Right. Like I've said before. She is always the better person. I was most pathetic.

-----------------------Oh, and Ryan would like me to mention "how awesome he is."

And by "awesome" I think he is referring to that he didn't come within 20 feet of me or Carmella without at least first spraying down the air with Lysol--which I can assure you did nothing for my nausea. He made Carmella sleep with me in the Hazmat room--aka, our bedroom.

Okay, he did do lots of laundry but that was only because I told him he couldn't go hunting unless he did. Oh, and he did take and pick up Beau from school.

So yes, that was pretty awesome. But. I think he just knew that there was the potential that I might survive this little bug and there would certainly be hell to pay then.

And I will say that mostly, in my opinion, it was pretty awesome that he didn't get said bug because that would have meant I would have been the one doing all the laundry and taking/picking up Beau to/from school and that would have meant I would have had to drag my half dead self out of bed. Which I promise you, wasn't going to happen.----------------------------------------

So for 2 days Carmella and I have laid in bed moaning, not eating or drinking and pretty much just about dying.

Today though.

I deemed us well.

I based this on the lack of vomiting for over 24 hours, no fever and that we both managed to eat something other than a saltine last night for dinner without dry heaving.

So, I sent Carmella to school, along with Beau. I planned to run.After copious amount of laundry and decontaminating happened, of course.

She came back home at 9 am.

She has been fine since she came home so I think she was just freaked out about the possibility of getting ill at school. She said her tummy hurt. I, of course, didn't believe her. We are well I told her. But she had already been to that damn school nurse so I had to take her home. They all ganged up on me, what could I do?

Well, I'll tell you.

I went by her teacher's room and got lots of work for her to do. My thinking was that Carmella rather enjoyed her lay-in-bed- watch-TV-and-color-puppy-pictures-and-vomit-vacation. I mean, she did make puppy pictures for at least 14 of her closest BFF's. Who makes stuff for their friend's when they are sick? I'll tell you who, fakers!

So, I was a little merciless making her do math homework, social studies, reading, art project and even write a story. But she had writer's block and still hasn't finished the story. She also does not appreciate at all the fabulous Face Book suggestions received either. I think they have further crippled her creativity. So "The Talking Crayon Box" remains an unfinished masterpiece as of this blog post writing. Sorry, guys. Thanks for trying.

Finally though the rain brought, my hero, Ryan, home and I was able to get much jonesed for run in.

I should mention now that my running of late has been going better. Taking a week off seemed to be just the ticket. Though, since the weekend-- when the stomach bug first showed up on my radar-- I have felt a bit off. Even still I managed 10 miles close to marathon pace on Monday. On Tuesday I wasn't feeling myself but hit the gym for my "how far can I go in an hour" treadmill run.

After a sad first mile at an 8:20 pace I cranked it out and got it done with 8.26 miles for the hour. And that was with taking a one minute walk break after the first 4 mile mark (which I hit in 29:20 something) because I was certain I was going to lose my breakfast and decided I was going to quit. But I rallied and decided I could finish out the hour. And I did. Overall average pace for the entire workout was 7:16 pace. An hour and half after the treadmill workout I had to take the kids to tennis. It was nice out and I was bored so I did an easy 4.5 miles. I think the average pace for that was 8:20 something pace. All and all not a bad day. Well, until I got the upsies. And the downsies. And the fever. And the body aches. And the chills. And two days where I thought for sure it was the end of me. And for part of the time I kind of hoped it was.

So, yeah, well that brings us to today. Friday. The day I willed myself well. I should have known my tummy was still a bit shaky but I ignored it and forged ahead with my coffee and Uncle Sam's--aka, NOT.A.GOOD.IDEA. Lunch was hard to get down too--brown rice, Lima beans and tomatoes. I don't know what I was thinking. But still I thought: I. Am. Better.

You, know, ignoring all those gurgling and quarters dropped down a pipe sound my digestive system was making.

I was fine.

So I went out for my run. Left Ryan with Carmella and told him to get Beau.

Yeah! Outside! Fresh air! My ipod! Me!

Ever the optimist I thought I maybe could do my 16 miler I was suppose to do on Thursday. I brought a Gu and $2, just in case. No water though or Gatorade. What? Why would I do that? That would be smart.

Ryan asked me how far? How long?

I said, I don't know. At least an hour, maybe two or more. . . hopefully.

About a mile in I was ready to turn back. My body was not right!

But I make no decisions in that first mile (or while running up a hill for that matter)--just my little rule.

I reasoned, well it has been 2 days. . . maybe I am just running too fast.

So I slowed down, my tummy threatening to rebel. As I reached the first of my 3 miles of uphills I considered walking but just tucked head and got through it, oh so painfully slow.

It started to rain and I worried about my new beautiful shoes and thought I should just do 6 miles. But then I thought about the 2 days I have languished in bed, dying and decided I needed to at least do ten miles to stay on track. So at the 3 mile I turned off to head into my 10 mile loop. And the tummy stayed there, on the vomit line but never crossed. I never felt great but it never got worse. At the 6 mile I was thirsty and licked my lips. Salt. Ugh. Gross. My spit was thick. Disgusting. Nothing was good. But with less than 4 miles to go I just plugged along and finished. Average pace was 8:42. Not terrible but 30 seconds slower per mile for the same run that I did on Monday and felt way less arduous. Really, in my mind, today should have been faster considering the 2 days of bed rest I had.

Do you count sick days as rest days?

I do. But maybe I shouldn't?

And so now I believe Carmella and guess that maybe she wasn't faking when she said her tummy still hurt. And maybe I even feel slightly guilty about that . . .

Sigh, I just want us all to be healthy!

Oh, one last thing. Since everyone thinks Beau is so funny here is the latest Beau drama, for your entertainment:

He has been an absolute pill the last week and a half at school, well and at home too. Mostly for his usual: talking too much, insubordination, being "wiggly" (seriously, that is what they call it). So I guess yesterday his teacher had had it and told him today he was being moved next to her at a desk by himself. Just so you know in the classroom they sit 5 kindergartners to a table. There are 15 kids in his class, 2 teachers. No one, but the teachers sit at desks. But in the older grades, they all sit at desks. Beau knows this.


The teacher however--for whatever reason-- did not at all inform me of this move. Beau did.
He enthusiastically informed me of it.
As in he had no clue this was a bad thing.
He was proud about it even.

This morning Beau came downstairs for breakfast and very excitedly told me that he was getting "his own desk" today. Next to the teachers, he informed me; nodding, smiling, brown eyes wide. All explaining why he jumped out of bed and got dressed lickety split for school. He had something to look forward to!

Carmella, having had the same two teachers for kindergarten and me, having had to sit at my own desk by the teachers when I was in kindergarten, knew exactly what this meant and that it was not good.

Carmella began by cataloging for Beau all the naughty children that had had to sit at the solo desk in kindergarten, many of who-- she furthered-- were still quite naughty in second grade. The desk, she told Beau, was bad news for him.

Beau tried to argue how he no longer had to share a table, emphasizing again, that he, Beau. Was getting his own desk. Next to the teachers even. You know, near the front of the class.

We tried, in vain to tell him this was not good. It meant he was naughty.

Beau wasn't listening, he was too excited for his new desk, his new position--you know, the one next to the teachers.

So I shot an email off the lead teacher explaining that Beau wasn't getting that the solo desk was punishment.

And this afternoon she shot one back to me that she tried making the solo desk "unpleasant as possible" for him by telling him stuff like his desk "had no table captain".
Okay.
You know.
Beau may not always have all the sails of his ship flying but, come on. Everyone knows at a table of one you are always the captain.

She also told him his desk didn't have a number.

Now this would have devastated Carmella but Beau?

Any table that he is at is number one in his mind.

Numbers? What are those?

She also told him that he couldn't line up until she told him he could. Which I am sure this was the most frustrating part for him but I think kindergartners don't get to do anything without being told to do it. So really, how is that different?

So when he came home from school today I asked him if he was sad at his desk by himself. And he told me emphatically No! It was great! And best of all he didn't have to sit next to, I will call her Betty but that is not her name, anymore. Apparently Beau really doesn't like Betty. He has mentioned before that she is not his favorite but I didn't really pay attention. Apparently, she picks her nose and has bad breath. Which is weird the nose picking would bother Beau since he is a staunch nose picker himself but I think when it comes to girls he operates on a bit of a double standard.

So that was my day and what I learned today is this: I can't will myself better, Carmella doesn't lie--ever. And Beau? You just can't take that kid down. Unlike his Mama, he isn't going down for any count--ever.

Okay, Cat. I promise. Your post is coming. I am having title trouble.

How the Cheetah Got Her Spots

It is a classic tale.

So remember my post a few back with me in the silly hat and glasses?

And with this picture?
And I told you to stay tuned. Well, your patience has paid off!

But first I have to show you some pictures from Halloween. Cause Halloween? It's my favorite holiday. I mean candy? Dressing up? Being silly? What is not to love? Just the bestest ever!

Warning!! Warning!! The Mainstay, Pookie, Lala--you better skip these next few paragraphs.

Okay, I lied. Let's get this out of the way:

For inquiring minds that want to know about my injury and all that boring running stuff I have been really good and didn't run for 7 days straight. I did cycle 4 days for a total of 115 miles--I know, for 4 days that isn't saying much. It was a little cold this week. I also swam twice for a total of 4600 yds for the week and I did yoga once and lifted weights twice. I even did the elliptical but couldn't make it much past 20 minutes on it. (How the heck do people do that thing for an hour?) I also stretched a lot. Needless to say not running 50 or so miles this week has left me feeling a little chubby.

This morning I woke up with a "touch of the flu". But it was my first day back running so I sucked it up--meaning I took some of that nasty BC powder and ate a lot of Halloween candy and sucked down some coffee.

Head hurt and tummy felt turned but my left calf was not swollen and nothing in the legs hurt. Not even that tendon in my calf that gives me so much trouble. When I gave the calf muscle a big ole stretch it gave no argument. I was all loosey goosey and could touch my toes and walk down the stairs without my ankles feeling all crunchy. I was ready to run--well except for that "flu".

I hit the Leita Thompson trail for a little trail run. I felt so light on my feet and definitely went out bit faster than I normally do for the first 2 miles. I started to feel a little bad and my feet were feeling achy and my calf seemed like it might get tight so I slowed down. I finished the 5 miles in 42 minutes feeling great. I was going to quit and started walking for a cool down but I was feeling good so I added on another 2 mile loop and finished the 7 miles in 62 minutes. We'll see how that feels in the morning. Keeping my fingers crossed for an easy 10 and then a short speed session with my old buddy the dreadmill on Tuesday. The faster pace will be the real test. I definitely feel like I have taken two steps back with my running and well, I am trying to not let it get me down. I guess I couldn't keep getting faster forever but I was hoping it would last a bit longer and I would see some bigger improvements at the 10k, half and marathon. Oh well. At least I can run far still, even if it is slow. Hmm, maybe this post is really about how the Cheetah lost her spots. . .

Okay, Lala, The Mainstay, Pookie you can read again.

Friday was Halloween and our good friends Steph and Dee Dee were having a costume party. They invited us to bring our kids to come trick or treat with their kids. Costume party and trick or treating? You don't have to ask me twice.

Here are the kids:
They were too excited to sit still for me to get a good picture of their costumes. But kitty and skeleton. Pretty basic. Carmella--ever the minimalist wanted the simplest, least frufru costume we could find and Beau . . . well, Beau wanted to be anything. Everything was appealing.

Beau, Max, Livi and Carmella
Our hosts, Steph the Mummy and Dee Dee the sexy mommy witch:

Okay before I show you my costume I just want you to know that I bought this one because it was $15 and it came with everything. If money were no issue I assure you that this would not be a costume I would pick.
But it was a good deal and it fit me.
Ready?
Brace yourself.
It is pink. . .

Pink Cheetah!
Yes.
Those are furry pink leg warmers.
And no.
They do not do my giant calves any favors.
Like I said $15 dollars--dress with tail, kitty bell, kitty ears, kitty mittens, kitty leg warmers. Stilettos and pink fishnets I already had. It was a deal. You try shopping for a costume with your 5 yr old and 7 yr old and see what you come up with.

Here is me with Tara and Dee Dee. Tara is wearing the dress and shoes from my tooth fairy costume.
And yes. I walked around Dee and Steph's neighborhood with my kids dressed like that. I have no shame. But if you keep reading you will see I come by it naturally.

But before I get to that let me show you Ryan's. I warn you. It is pretty insensitive and if you are one of those sensitive, politically correct types and watch Animal Planet all the time this is probably going to offend you and you should stop reading now.

I won't tell you what he is, I'll let you figure it yourself, but you should know that I had nothing to do with any part of this costume--the idea, the design or even the making of the stuffed animal on his chest. Ryan did it all by himself. I did supply the needle and thread and the hot glue gun but beyond that it was all Ryan.

Okay, ready?
Ta Da!

Not sure? Need more pictures to figure it out?
I laughed my ass off all night long.
Here are some group shots from the party:
The Girls:
The Guys:


So when I mentioned that I come by this dressing up and being all silly and goofy naturally I wasn't kidding.

I am sure you are familiar with the whole nature vs nurture debate?

Well, bless my heart, this tabula rasa didn't have a kitten's chance in a dogfight. Clearly, it is not only genetic but is bred. And obviously, it doesn't skip a generation.

Exhibit A: Lala, my mother

All fancy frying that "brown popcorn" aka, okra (gag).

This is my cousin Diana:
My cousin Kathy:

My cousin Betsy:


My cousins Kathy, Ray, Isabella and Amelia:
Carmella:

All the women dress up:

The reason for all this dressing up was to honor and celebrate my great Aunt Boo's 80th birthday. She likes animal prints, fancy hats (this I didn't know) and white wine with ice.
When she talks all her vowels are long and drawn out. She says double diphthongs-- if such a thing exists. For example, my family nickname is Pooh--as in Winnie the Pooh--not poopie. She pronounces "Pa'ewww". And if you say something like "I have to pee." She'll say, "Pa'eww. Don't be a red neck." And flamingos are pink ducks. And you should always "be sweet". And at Christmas when she answers the phone she says "Christmas gift!" instead of "hello!". And that is just the tip of the iceberg.

There was a performance too. A new rendition of her favorite song Deep Purple.
I know you are thinking "Poor Nat!" She had to wear that unfortunate color purple but you know there are just somethings you are willing to do for family. As you can see in the above picture wearing a boa was not one of the things Carmella was willing to do for family. When I asked her "cape or boa?" she seemed relieved at the option of cape and snatched it right out of my hands.

Anyway, I hope this post cleared up the possible question of why I like costumes and am so ridiculous acting sometimes. It's up-bringing. I can't help it.

Hope everyone had a fabulous Halloween!

Ha! And I bet you thought this post was going to be about running fast!
Whatever.
Even if I am not fast I am still a Cheetah. This old cat isn't quite ready to hang up her running shoes (or furry pink leg warmers).