Ride today! Wooppeee!

Missed my run or ride yesterday when I got something in my eye that felt like a lincoln log. It was a speck, but it knocked me on my back for about an hour while I tried to figure out why every time I tried to open my eye, my body's reflex was to slam it shut again. Big baby. Couldn't get out.

But today, after a bunch of after-school hullaballoo, I came home and took a quick nap. I needed it. Some afternoons, my energy is completely gone by 1:30, and it takes a lot to recover it. I'm trying to be better about spreading my calories out over the course of the day, but it doesn't always happen. So today, I was wiped.

I made a couple of slices of bread with some natural PB on them when I got home. Then I took a nap. And I woke up at 6:00 and jumped off the couch and got changed and was out the door by 6:10. Rock on. That's about as late as I can go to get a ride in here. So it was a shortie, but I was happy to have done it. 

Time for some relaxation. 

Sore legs = good

I went out today again. Sore when I walked out the door. I'd been working all day in the house, and the weather seemed to have finally broken, so I was ready to get out. The wind has been howling here from Hurricane Ike, and the skies were grey, but the rain has stayed away. And the temperature has dropped. Perfect start to fall running weather. And it was a good run. 

I'm full of excuses. I don't say them out loud, normally, but I'm full of them in my head. And I'm trying to silence that voice. I also like to nip that excuse-filled voice in the bud and invite in my more positive self-talk. so I expect that my writings in the next few weeks as I work my way back into shape will be full of both--positive self-talk and nipping excuses in the bud.

Big breath. Here goes. Kevin and I have been wanting to have a baby, and I've used that as an excuse in the last several months. Every month has been a different drug and another blood test and a big sigh... and it hasn't gone the way it seems to go for most people. But the drugs do change the body a bit. And the process does affect the mind a bit. And so running has taken a back seat as I was assuming that any day now I wouldn't be able to run anyway. Silly, but true. Enough of that nonsense. We still want to have a baby, but it's not an excuse to not run, for crying out loud. 

Putting it out there on a blog seems a bit forward. People whisper about these things. They don't seem to talk about them. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because they don't want people asking about something that holds such potential for both joy and disappointment. Or if people know that they want to have a baby, when they finally get to have one, the surprise of it won't be as great. Or maybe it's just because it's a pretty private thing (although some of my relatives don't seem to mind bringing it up now and again). I've considered just telling people that we're unable to have kids so that if we do finally get pregnant, it will seem to be some sort of a miracle...and perhaps then people won't ask about it. But maybe I just want to talk about it.

The thing is, we've wanted to sell this other house for two years now. And it's gotten to the point that it's almost embarrassing that we haven't been able to sell it--as if not selling a house that we aren't even living in is some sort of a reflection of inadequacy on our part. And Kevin's family has gotten to the point that they won't even ask about that house any more. What does this have to do with our trying to have a baby? If we put it out there that we are trying, I wonder if people will at some point get to the point where they, too, don't want to ask about it. 

Sometimes I enjoy being brutally honest about personal topics because I like to wade through the social crap that seems to create barriers between people... but then other people don't appreciate that bluntness, and it tends to have the same affect. 

Ahhhh, the phone... cut short by the phone. 

Starting somewhere...again...

I ran yesterday. Two miles. Two miles. Two miles. That's it. Have to start somewhere. I'm always telling myself that I have to start somewhere. I just hardly ever expect that somewhere will be where it is. And for some reason, I can't not beat myself up for having let it get so far from me. 

Kevin says I'm like Rocky. Always one to make a comeback. I'd rather just have some consistency again when it comes to workouts instead of a roller coaster ride. I've missed it since leaving Culver. 

There are times when I'm sitting there in my thoughts, and I feel like I can feel my body expanding just as I sit there. Getting bigger. I envision my cells just expanding. Fatter. It's awful. Just being honest here... not realistic. Why do I beat myself up so much?

On a good note, I can feel my desire to be out there doing this stuff finally coming back. I've reclaimed a lot since moving to this house just a short month ago, and my rhythm is coming back. I think some would call that mojo?

Today's another day to keep starting somewhere.

Living the dream...with a little bump of reality

We live on the bike route. I've wanted to live on the bike route for as long as I can remember. And I can walk right out the front door with my bike and step onto the street and get on the bike route. I trained almost exclusively on this route for Ironman--combining loops to make 30, 60, and 100 mile rides that were familiar and hilly and challenging.

Yesterday's little bump of reality was just that, a bump. In the noggin. With a soda can. I was doing just a short ride in the misty rain yesterday afternoon, and I was only about a half mile from the house on the road on which I actually live, when a car came up from behind me. Thinking nothing of it, I waved them around as the oncoming traffic lane was clear. 

Before I knew what had happened, I had been beaned in the head by an empty soda can. It bounced off my helmet and hit the ground and that was when it registered that someone had assaulted me. My immediate reaction was to flip the guy off who did it. Then I decided to chase down his truck. I didn't really have a plan beyond calling the police when I got the guy's license plate, but I was going to make an effort. 

I started a sprint to try and catch him, but he, of course, had hit the gas pedal as soon as the can was thrown, and I couldn't catch him. I rode the rest of the ride with my head up looking for the vehicle, and I actually thought I saw it coming back towards me a little further up the road. I stopped my bike in the middle of the road, took off my sunglasses, and stared down what I thought was the offending vehicle. It wasn't it. 

I rode the rest of the ride trying to sort out what I ought to do. Nothing. I hate bullies. I'll ride with my contacts on in the future and look for the plate. I'll also always have my cell phone with me. And I'll pick up the can next time it's thrown (if there is a next time).

The good news is that I've been riding for about seven years now, and I've really only had one run-in with a vehicle besides what I had yesterday. But two is two too many. I wonder if karma will bite him in the ass? I wonder if he'll know it when karma does?

Still living the dream. I'm not giving that power away.