No Longer Swearing

Man, it helps to get things out in the open. After unloading on the Loop in my last post, my attitude adjusted itself a little. KRG had made a comment about the "last 10%" and how that helped put things into perspective. It IS that last 10% that I'm on and it seems to be the most high maintenance part of recovery, probably because I have daily life that is always getting in the way of things. 

I admit, I had been struggling since the time change to fit everything in. I'm one of those people that finds it really hard to be productive when it's dark, so when I get home at 5 and I already have to turn lights on ... well, it makes it so much easier to let things slide a little more than they should. I've also finally been brave enough to re-enter the dating world after 3 years of not really dating and that's taking up my time, too. 

I know, I know. #firstworldwhiteupperclassproblems

So, here's my promise. I promise to re-dedicate myself to getting to 100%. If this means getting my butt up earlier in the morning or working out at lunchtime, I will make the time for me and for my hip. 

My hip should really have its own name at this point. Any suggestions? Oh! Let's have a contest! Winner of the Name-Eliz's-Hip contest will get something in the mail from Kansas City. Have no idea what it will be. Doncha love a surprise?!?

Also, I had sent an email to my PT, updating him after my Turkey Trot and I finally got a response from him yesterday. He was congratulatory and reassuring and even asked if he could share my email with some patients that he thought needed extra motivation. I never thought I would say this, but I sort of miss my PT. Having that regular cheerleader who is also a medical professional was great for me. I guess now I have to be my own cheerleader, and I sort of forgot about that. 

No races scheduled for December, but in January, I'm signed up for a 1 mile run - yes, I know it seems silly to have a 1 mile race in January, it's part of a build up series from 1 mile to a half marathon. No, I'm not doing the series, but some friends are and this is one of the few races I'm able to do with them. 

For more motivation, I planned 2017 races and estimated costs. Right now, I'm looking to tick 4 states off the 50 state list, do one triathlon and maybe, just maybe, tackle 13.1 in the fall. But I really hate half marathons, so I'll probably use any twinge in the to-be-named-hip to not do it, LOL. 

Note: The hip naming contest is now closed. New entries are still accepted, but unfortunately won't be considered.

That Moment when I Scream a Profanity

I constantly keep this comment from Peg on one of my earlier bloops in my head. It's funny, because I really didn't have many really dark or negative moments in regards to recovery from surgery - like a good student, I had overprepared and had a pretty good idea of what I was getting into. I knew I had to be patient. I knew this was a long recovery. 

The problem was, "long recovery" to me meant 12 months. It's now been 14. 

I'm not quite sure what I expected when I hit 12 months. Actually, that's not true. Deep down, I expected to hit 12 months and for everything to magically be gone. 

Poof. 

No more aches, no more twinges, no more days where I was moving my desk up and down at work, rotating between sitting and standing every hour. No more need to incessantly foam roll or do those runnersconnect exercises that I swore by (and those are actually really good at fostering "run with your butt" mechanics, so I'm not sure why I didn't want to do them anymore). 

I wanted to be able to train like I've always wanted - deliberately, hard, and with all the vigor and joy for running I have every time I cross a finish line. I was so excited to start incorporating some power and Olympic lifting into my routine. You have no idea how much I love lifting and doing cleans, power cleans, jerks, front squats and the like. I feel so strong and powerful, not to mention it does amazing things for my posture. 

But, three weeks into that routine and my hip was more often unhappy than not. I noticed it more than I had in the previous month or so. 

And that's when something like this happened - in my head anyway:

 Extra points for using a Star Trek gif, right?

And here's where it gets really honest. 

I am tired. 

Tired of being patient. Tired of having to wait. Tired of only deadlifting 30 or sometimes 40 pounds, even though it's single leg deadlifts, which okay does make things a little harder. Tired of not being able to spin as long because things still flare up a bit. Tired of not being able to row because things still flare up a bit. Tired of a 40-pound barbell being too heavy to clean. Tired of using the damn arc trainer at the gym because they don't have an elliptical. 

Seriously, who invented the arc trainer and why can you still actually buy them?

And while we are at it, what gym doesn't have an elliptical?

And WHY AM I WISHING FOR AN ELLIPTICAL??!?!?!?! 

I am just. Plain. Tired. 

And I know that throwing a real tantrum won't do any good. Crying won't do any good, and quite frankly, I haven't wanted to throw and real tantrum or cry. I am not sad. I am just frustrated and angry. I really thought I would be done with this chapter by now. I really, really did. But I'm not. For the first time in over a year, I'm finding it difficult to see the progress I am making. Intellectually, I know it's there, that even if the steps are micro in size, I know I am still moving forward. My emotions aren't seeing it, though and that's where this comes in: 

 There. I feel better now.

Sac County Fair Turkey Trot RR

It's been a minute since I've posted - and I'll get to all of those reasons in another post, but for now, I'd like to tell you a tale about a small town turkey trot that took place in Sac City, Iowa. 

It was early for a vacation day. Like, 6:30 early and the race didn't even start until 8. But hey, we had a 45 minute drive, weren't exactly sure where the race start is or even how busy it would be. So, I set the alarm for the last possible minute where I wouldn't feel rushed. 

I had eaten way too much sugar the day before and my 33 year old stomach was not taking kindly to the glycosolytic assault. But, I get up, throw on tights, and SmartWool socks and my "Not Running Sucks" t-shirt and a half zip and a jacket and trudge downstairs to let Sir Jeff the Dog outside. 

Okay, okay, so I also threw on a sports bra. I figured that was a given. 

Brother Jimmie and I head north and west and find ourselves rolling into a parking lot with maybe a handful of cars around 7:30 AM. We go into pick up our packets, find people standing around staring at us (and probably trying to figure out if they know us). We are one of the few weirdos who actually take the time to warm up and I wonder if I have it in me to go for my PR. 

Then, we are lining up, and no one is willing to go anywhere near the front of the sparse pack. And by sparse, I mean, 20-odd runners. So, for the first time in my life (and probably the last time), I find myself at the start line of a race before it actually starts.

This is dangerous, because you are used to taking off at the same speed as others around you. When the others around you will end up finishing a good 4-7 minutes of ahead of you, they aren't the same speed. 

Just sayin'. 

On the upside, it gives a sweet action shot that even my PT would be proud of:

Polar Patty tells me I'm at a sub-8 pace, way too fast, so I slow down and let people pass me. Sigh. It's a terrible feeling to be passed, no matter how much you haven't actually been training to race a 5K. A woman, who may or may not be in my AG, passes me in wicked awesome tights and a neon jacket. 

Keep the neon jacket in sight, keep neon jacket in sight. My right ITB starts whining a big and I just hope that it's not a sign of something bad. It's one thing to have a bad race, it's quite another to have a bad race when there aren't many runners to make you anonymous. 

It takes me nearly the entire first mile to settle into a reasonable pace for me, and it ticks in at 9:32. Oh I would have loved for that to have been ideal. But it wasn't, so I keep at my slower pace of around 10mm and keep neon jacket in sight. 

To my surprise, the course is incredibly well-marked and there is even a photographer on the course. I think it's wicked awesome and hey, I'm running when last year I could barely walk, so I give him a thumbs up.

After a few turns, I notice neon jacket looking back to see where I am. I have no intention of passing her, because I really liked that I had someone to follow and I was really paranoid about getting lost, despite the fact that there was a sign at every single turn. Mile 2 ticks in at 10:03. Better. Smarter, at least. The ITB whining is gone and I try to keep myself somewhere between comfortable and uncomfortable. Like, if I slowed down just a little, it'd be a lovely jaunt on a cold morning, but that's not what 5Ks are for so we are just going to keep pushing. 

I slowly gain on neon jacket without really trying and when I get to her shoulder, ask if she wants to run together. I learn she has a leg cramp something awful and that's why she kept looking back. I run with her a little bit until she says she has to stop and stretch and I immediately find that running alone without a carrot is super hard. The last time I had to do this was my first half marathon, which is incidentally still my PR and still the worst time I ever had doing a half. 

I find a new carrot, someone who is far enough ahead that I lose them at every turn (there are a lot in this last little section). I tell myself to not try to chase him down because that's just stupid, but soon I'm crossing a bridge and see the finish/start and realize I'm just ready to be done. I cruise on in, see the clock is at 29: and change and know that I would not have broken 30 min in a 5K and suddenly I'm very annoyed about that. I immediately tell my brother, "I'm never going to break 30 minutes". He looks at me a little weird, because technically I did just run under 30 minutes, just not a full 5K. 

Mile 3: 9:45

Final time: 29:37, 3.03 miles
Predicted 5K time: 30:22
5K PR: 30:21 

@#&^&*^#$$@#$!#$%^#$^

Oh well. It was still good enough for 3rd overall female and 2nd in my age group. My brother also took 3rd overall and 1st in his AG. We celebrated with some selfies:

That's the World's Largest Popcorn Ball, in case you were wondering.

Later, as I'm chatting and tell someone where I'm from, I learn that one of the guys with whom I grew up was there, watching his wife run. So, we end up catching up and learning what he's been up to for the past, ya know, 20 years. That was fun.