run

Sloan Long Run Technique

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The day started out with my friend bailing on our long run. Proceeded into me having to get inspiration and motivation from my Twitter friends (because lord knows I wasn’t going to get it on my own.) and continued to me tearing my room apart looking for, wait for it, my Pearl Izumi arm warmers. It was finally that weird temperature that didn’t require a long sleeve, or a jacket, and was too cold for just a t-shirt. These are the days we’re given for arm warmers, however few and far between, we cherish them.

As you can see, I tore my room apart and eventually gave up and took an old pair of wool socks and cut out the toes. PERFECT!

I set out to climb to Four Corners and return. Long, up hill, and mentally taxing for me. As I was running, (if you can call my slow trot up running) it was nice to be alone. I knew that the run was going to be harder mentally for me, just to keep pushing myself instead of go home and crawl on the couch with my new favorite book. (I did get my motivation to run from people across the country I have never met! Thank you Twitter!)

As I reached the part in the path where it splits I had already been contemplating turning around at the next “check point”. If I had turned around there I would be cutting probably 45 minutes off of my run and I know I would be mad at myself when I got home. But still, I wanted to turn around. So instead of going right, (right would take me to the trail that continues up to four corners) I went left. I had no idea where left took me. I was pulling a classic Sloan Long Run Technique.

 

Sloan Long Run Technique: to set out for a set amount of miles, time, destination and proceed to get lost. The outcome usually being more miles, time and more bliss.

 

The trail I ended up following was the Queen of Hearts trail. I took Alice and Wonderland and White Rabbit to get there, (how fitting.) This QH trail led me along a single-track ridge covered in snow, up another switch back and to an opening that forced me to udder (shield your eyes Grandma) fuck yes. This view was spectacular. I looked around me to see if anyone else was as amazed as I was, I was alone. Fuck yes. Alone, up high on the mountain, I could see how far I’d come from town and how far I had to go.

The way down was like a roller coaster for my feet. I just let loose and ran. I really had no idea where in the trail system I was but someone once told me just run down and you’ll eventually make it back to town. So that’s what I did. Down down down the rabbit hole I ran and was spit out on Park Street where I found my bearings and ran straight to the running store to tell someone about my amazing run.

My co-worker, Timothy, was stoked for me and my run. He knew exactly where I had gone and we talked about how incredible that feeling is when you reach the top of QH.

This was a run that made me love running again. Thank goodness for my innate (and inherited) ability to get lost.

Gluttony

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Gluttony: The act of eating or drinking in excess. Las Vegas should re-name itself. This city, the City of Sin is gluttony at it’s best.

While, yes, my friend and I did indulge we were by no means staggering down the street at nine in the morning searching for out hotel key and a toilette to puke in. at nine Friday morning I was finishing up a few miles running on the strip. Perfect conditions: about 60 degrees, sunshine, lots of stairs to go up and down and a view of a city that I was ready to explore that day.

As I ran the stairs and watched all of the American, (and a few foreign) tourists use the escalators, yes I was outside, I said to myself why are they all just standing on the moving stairs? Walk, people! Walk! But later that night, in heels, tired from standing a couple drinks deep I understood the escalators—but still, this was 9am. Then again, they did have yard long drinks in their hands or freshly cracked Budweisers. Again, 9am.

As we explored, ate, drank and enjoyed the city we also commented on the lifestyle one must maintain in order to live here. Sitting at an outdoor bar, sipping out Tom Collins’ we watched a young dancer standing on the terrace balcony in no more than a bra and panties, how much do you think she makes an hour? We both laughed at our question, but really, how much do you think she makes? I bet she burns like 6,000 calories every day at work. Theses were the conversations we had rather than wondering how many shots we could do that night and still survive.

Our last evening in Vegas we were lucky enough to have awesome seats and an awesome Cirque du Soleil show at Treasure Island. How inspiring to see these dancers be so passionate about such an amazing show. It was weird, and quirky and these people were so physically strong we couldn’t believe what they were accomplishing with just their bodies. I swear, during the two-hour performance my jaw was in my lap the entire time. I was so entranced by it I didn’t realize how much time had gone by until it was over.

By the end of my three night, two day trip I was ready to be out of the City of Sin and head back to my little hippie village in Southern Oregon. I was able to experience a cool new city with one of my best friends, and remember the entire thing! Unlike most of the people on my plane ride back, I made memories to keep.

Connecting Some Dots (and dealing with pain)

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Sooooooooooooooo remember when I broke my butt last year? Yeah, I try to forget those 14 weeks of my life too. Well, from the way it feels these past few days I think my butt is broken again. I had, at one point, gotten x-rays and an MRI to see what was wrong and the doctor told me I had a stress fracture in my sacrum—right? I know! Crazy sauce. All I could do was not run, not sit for hours on end and the exercise I was allowed was “whatever didn’t make it hurt” (aka: the recumbent bike and eventually the elliptical)

In an effort to not recreate those awful 14 weeks I’m taking this week off of running. I’m going to concentrate on lifting, maybe pop back in the pool a few times, I’m also trying out some new cardio machines at the gym. Having an injury SUCKS. We’re not going to down play that, that’s why I’m trying to catch it before it becomes full blown, but I’m going to take this annoying pain in my ass (literally and figuratively,) and turn it into a new focus. That’s all I can do, right? We can’t control everything, so don’t even bother trying.

A child hood friend passed away two weeks ago (Brenner) and that SUCKS, (no other way to say it, it sucks). Nothing I can do can change that. Instead of crying all time I’m remembering the awesome times we had. I’m reminiscing with his sister and my big brother. I’m flying to NYC in a month and a half to celebrate the life of such and amazing person. Yes I’m sad, really really sad. But it’s also opening my eyes to what’s really really important. My family, my friends, my health. I’m taking control of the things I have control over, like who I send letters and emails to, who I call, who I get in touch with, what I spend my time doing.

How am I looping this story back to my butt you ask? By taking on a challenge we can’t control we end up learning something. My butt hurts, so today I’m going to do the stair stepper. I’m sad about Brenner, I’m going to call his sister that I LOVE and remember the time that her brother helped her, her friend and I record a Beatles song in their basement when we were teenyboppers.

Don’t-not-be-sad, remember to cry, but also remember that your butt still needs exercise and memories are supposed to be remembered and both of those things are what keep us alive!