Thursday, July 12, 2012

Catch up

NOT the look on my face. This chick's a LIAR!
So, last night I'm laying face-down on a table at my physical therapy place, trying to suppress the yelps that nevertheless WILL emerge from my throat as Christina the fabulous sports therapist dry-needles my hamstring (do I need to go into greater description of the technique known as dry-needling for you? I didn't think so). It's week 5 of my biweekly acupuncture-on-steroids-followed-by-80-squats therapy sessions, but I'm getting used to them. I'm even kind of liking the sensation of needles getting thrust in between muscle layers until something twitches. And do you know why?

Because it is also week 1 of marathon training. I am absolutely giddy to be back in a training schedule. Training keeps you motivated. Training gives you endorphins. Training allows you to have Reese's Puffs for dinner three days in a row because you can say, "Meh! I ran 4 miles this morning and even ate asparagus for lunch." (Training also contributes to you forgetting to go to the grocery store three nights in a row, but who cares about that when there are cereal boxes to spare on top of your fridge?)

So, last night during PT and on my run this morning, I was just... stoked. I haven't run pain-free since February and I'm almost-- ALMOST-- there! And my long runs are still short enough that I don't curse the foolhardy whims that got me signed up for this race. Christina gave me a swell pointer last night (run with my head held back, like, give myself double chins I'm holding it so far back), which I implemented this morning and the effect was instantaneous. Pain-free run, and a headache-free day afterwards. MIRACLE! 


I became A Runner during my junior year of college. 2005: seven years ago. Half the reason was because I noticed the steady diet of cereal wasn't too good for me, half because my roommate Claire was an intense soccer player and my competitive side couldn't stand getting winded by her whenever we'd go out and play. As the years continued, I fell in love with the way running allows the words in your head to just... stop. I fell in love with the excursions out amongst the hidden architectural gems of south Provo. I fell in love with new tan lines, and new cut muscles on the sides of my thighs.

The game changed when I moved to Washington. I continued to run, leaning on the hobby more than I had even in Provo just for the sake of stress relief. Then I entered my first 5k, and I was introduced to the marvelous racing culture. If you know me, you know I love me some cultural studies. Running comes with a FABULOUSLY fascinating culture: its own heroes, folklore, cliques, language, uniform, hot spots, psychology, everything. It made me so happy to start knocking down races amongst these strange monsters, these racers with compression socks who scoff at me when I mention my 11 minute mile pace. I was--and am-- happy to adventure out into a sport in which I compete with no one but my past self, and can people-watch to my heart's content throughout the process. It makes me happy to feel my body switch from craving sugar to craving veggies (for the running skeptics out there: that really happens! Magical!) I'm in the middle of  making that transition now, again. The summer's onslaught of hamburgers, cookies, and ice cream (and the heat wave) have knocked me more than a little off my spring healthy-diet high horse.

High horse. Isn't he cute??
I have no profound words of wisdom tonight, just these thoughts. And my excitement for a new adventure. My excitement to train with some seriously talented women. My excitement to push the boundaries of how far I can go, mile by mile, week after week, til October.

I'm sorry I haven't written about art in forever. Art is stressing me out right now. The need for some solid, permanent career choices looms on the horizon and I have no clear answers, no one direction in mind. Hopefully I will pick those things up, maybe even be aided in my quest by achieving my running goals.

Friday, July 6, 2012

Story of my life.


to this:

Every 3 weeks or so.

Thursday, July 5, 2012

"But if an explanation is where the mind comes to rest, the mind that stopped at 'lucky' when it sought to explain the Oakland A's recent pitching success bordered on narcoleptic."

-Michael Lewis, Moneyball, pg. 222

Please, Heavenly Father, if I could someday publish just one sentence that reads half as well as one of Michael Lewis', I will feel I have achieved career success.