Time of no reply

I'm not much in the mood to run. My dad died eighteen years ago today. He was a good man. Sometimes it seems like he was just a dream, but I can still remember his laugh and how he always smelled like Ultra Brite and shaving cream in the morning.

Dad and his dad.

Dad. Probably drunk. Really drunk. Sometime before he went to Viet Nam.

So handsome.

Evanston, Illinois 1968. (Note the large amount of snow and yet, Dad isn’t really bundled up. Midwest machines never break.) Six years later, Mom and Dad adopted me and my sister and brought us home from Michigan. We lived in this apartment building on Howard and Western, which was owned by my mom's parents. Mom and Dad managed the place.

My mom’s relative’s cottage in Michigan. They used to own the Schicks Motel in Coloma. (They sold it many years ago now.) One time we went there, Grubs and I must’ve been around ten or 11; we didn’t stay in one of the cottages, but the motel was pretty nice. There was a big swing overlooking the water (Paw Paw Lake). A ramp led down to the beach and there was a floating wooden dock a couple yards out. Grubs and I found a box of toys in a shed and inside was a big plastic Jaws and after we found him we were afraid to go in the water. One night, Dad challenged me and my sister to a race. Whoever could run down to the water and back first would get a dollar. The deal was, we had to dip our shoes in the water to prove we’d actually gone all the way down the beach. Grubs won, but the next morning our shoes were still soaking wet. Boy were we pissed. But my dad walked us down the road a bit to an old-time ice cream parlor (they sold regular food, too) called the Sugar Shack. There was a ledge all around the ceiling and a train ran along the tracks. Then we went to Deer Forest and got mad when our parents wouldn’t buy us peacock feathers. A little while later we found some just lying on the ground. SCORE! (Incidentally, this is more like what Deer Forest looked like the last time I was there.)

The photo is actually a reprint I made in high school. The assignment was to bring in a b&w photo, make a negative from it and then do a reprint. This one’s a bit washed out, but I couldn’t find the better ones. I got an A on the assignment, by the way.

Evanston again. Let’s take the babies out and tar the parking lot!

Dad and me. I still sleep like that.

Seriously reconsidering this whole adoption thing. Circa 1979.

Mom and Dad. They’re happy because neither one of them has yet to think adopting twins might be a good idea.

Dad was a small man, but he was strong... (Fun fact: Dad and his three brothers used to hop onto the back of the 'el, ride it into the north side and pick fights with the rich kids. They always won. My uncle Jack told me that story right after he punched the window out of my boyfriend's 1970 Cutlass.)

Brookfield Zoo
Chicago, IL circa 1975 or ‘76.

Dad and Grubs (and Peanuts). That’s my bed set now!

Dad and Grubs again.
Warning: Baby!Grubs contains tryptophan.

Dad and me at the grandparents’ house in Florida. Don’t worry, I was only trapped under the chair for a couple of hours.

To the faithful departed and those left behind, there is a light that never dies.

Maybe I should apologize for clogging my running journal with photos of my family, but the way I see it is running is part of my life and if I'm grieving on a run day, why the hell not post about it? It's certainly cheaper than therapy.

One thing I will say about my dad and running: When I was 15 and had my leg operation, my dad was adamant about me doing my physical therapy exercises everyday. I started out in a wheelchair, upgraded to a walker. It was important that I walk as much as possible in order to help strengthen my broken bones. Eventually I moved up to crutches and by the end of it all, I was walking on my own. This is something I will never forget: five months after my dad died, Mom and I went to a Halloween party at my Auntie Reenie's house. I was huddled in a corner by myself when Reenie found me. She sat down next to me, tucked my hair behind my ear (which is exactly what my Auntie Mickey did the day my dad died) and patted the brace on my leg. She smiled and said, "When you were in the hospital, and after you got out, your dad would ride his bike over to my house and tell me how proud he was of you for doing this. He said you were so brave, braver than him. And he said to me, 'Reenie, I'm going to get that girl walking again if it's the last thing I do.'"

I did walk again, with only a slight loss of range-of-motion in my right ankle. And now I'm running. I think that would have made him happy.

Love you, Dad. Miss you everyday.

Moms

Just posting to say Happy Mother’s Day to the moms out there. My own dear mother is still sick, so I’m thinking about making her some vampire stew.

Have a good one.

I've got a tombstone hand and a graveyard mind

Didn't run today. Sick. Don't worry, there's good news: The pain in my ribs isn't so bad it makes me want to die, and the Red Wings won again. I hope the Mule is back to his kick ass, non-concussed self by Monday, though.

Gonna go make some soup and watch One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Ah, Juicy Fruit.

Week 2, Day 14 (revisited)

Last night I had a dream that I decided I wasn’t going to run today. Then I was driving home when all of a sudden, a monster storm broke out and a pyroclastic flow started rushing down the mountain towards me. I abandoned my car, ran into the open garage of a nearby house and waited until all hell stopped breaking loose. When the flow stopped, I walked back to the road and looked out over the valley to see the sky pitch black with at least six tornadoes wreaking havoc on the countryside below me. It was one of the most terrifying things I’ve seen in a dream. There's a Native American legend where (basically) if you see the dead man walking in a (multiple vortice) tornado, it means you're going to die. Totally not freaked out at all.

I know the dream was brought on by the insane volcanic eruption in Chile last Friday. I heard about it last night and became concerned because my cousin is on a big bike trek in that area, and he hasn’t updated his travel blog journal since the 30th (two days before the eruption). I’m going to have my mom call my aunt today; hopefully somebody’s heard from him.

So I woke up in a weird mood. Not to mention I was nervous about today’s run because (since last night) I have been suffering from what I now refer to as a V.C. Andrews-related G.I. upset. (I knew Petals on the Wind was going to be a bad read, but I checked it out of the library anyway. STUPID.) As I’ve mentioned, there are no port-o-potties over by the track, so if worse came to worst, I would literally be shit out of luck.

...moving on...

My knees have been on the verge of bothering me lately, so I made sure to have my flax seed smoothie for breakfast this morning. Pre-run I had a handful of almonds and raisins (mostly so I could take some acidophilus). For lunch I had some minestrone soup. I’m not feeling very well, and I don’t have much of an appetite. Bleh.

When I got down to the track, it was a lovely 53°F, overcast with a bit of wind coming in from the West. I was a little chilly in my tank top, but I knew I’d warm up once I got to the running intervals.

Today went very well. The heaviness is gone, and I felt pretty damn good. Usually by the third run I feel like I want to die, but today it wasn’t too bad. When I got to the fourth run, I felt amazing, like I could keep running forever. I left the track feeling very accomplished and happy. I went home and did my lower body workout and now I’m getting ready to go to the library. I’ve got to drop Tank off at my sister’s on the way, so I can head back over there to watch TV. She’s got cable ---> Versus -----> Hockey!!!! Western Conference finals. I’m so excited/nervous. Let’s go, Red Wings! (Yes, I’ve got my lucky red shirt on. Still haven’t washed it.)

See you on Saturday.

P.S. It started raining as I was walking back to my car. Perfect timing!

Week 2, Day 13 (revisited)

You can say the sun is shining if you really want to
I can see the moon and it seems so clear
You can take the road that takes you to the stars now
I can take a road that’ll see me through
I can take a road that’ll see me through

56°F today. Overcast. Kinda breezy. That sunshine was nice while it lasted! I kid. I actually went to bed relatively early last night and got up earlier than I have in quite some time. I felt refreshed when I climbed out of bed, too. Usually I’m groggy and stumbling.

I had planned on running before I took my mom swimming, but yeah. I farted around after breakfast (tofu scramble and a banana) and suddenly, it was time to leave. Oops? The good news is, my ribs feel better. The pain is still there, lurking, but I was able to actually swim today. I’ve been taking ibuprofen every eight hours, and I think that has given my muscles a chance to relax. I’m still going to try for Free Day on Thursday, though.

After swimming, Mom and I ate at a deli in town (because, surprise, she had a coupon). After scoping the menu and finding nothing I could eat (shocker!), my mom asked the waitress if they had any vegan options. Her response? ”Oh, sure! We have a veggie omelet and we have grilled cheese, oh and we have shrimp salad.”

Ohhhh! Shrimp salad! Shrimp is my FAVORITE VEGETABLE.

Deep breath. In with the good, out with the bad.

I ordered a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. My mom felt really bad about it, but I didn’t mind. There was a garden burger, but those aren’t vegan, either. Blah blah blah, had lunch, ran some errands, came home. Changed into my running gear and headed down to the track. Nobody but me there today. Woohoo!

Nothing spectacular to report. The run was good. I felt pretty good, but by the third run, I was back to feeling like I couldn’t make it through another three intervals. And I was getting kind of frustrated as I ran. I was thinking about how long I’ve been on Week 2 and how it doesn’t seem like I’ll ever get to Week 3. I fully admit Week 3 intimidates me, but at the same time I’m eager to get in there and try it out. I don’t want to push myself, but I also really don’t want to try and fail.

Anyway, after I plodded through the fourth interval, things got better.

Came home and stretched and in a little while I’ll do aerobics and my lower body workout.

I was thinking about last week and how I had such a tough time. I blamed it on PMS, but I think a lot of it was just plain old self-sabotage. I’m one pound away from losing almost 30 lbs. I think a big reason why I’m fat is because I like to be invisible. Nobody pays attention to the fat chick. I was traumatized enough as a child and a teen to come to believe that flying under the radar is necessary for survival. I can keep saying, “I’ll do this and that and accomplish so much once I’m fit and healthy,” but if I keep going on like this, one day I’m going to wake up and realize that I ran my excuses off at the track. And then what? I guess anything is possible after that, right? I’ve never believed that I deserved anything good in my life. Over the years I came to understand that good things only happen to other people, and all I had was this big empty space where hope should be.

But now my clothes don’t fit and I’m not in pain anymore. Something good is happening to me and I’m afraid that it won’t last. So what do I do? I backslide. Get back into old habits and stop working out. Depressed and miserable is the status quo, everything’s fine. If I stay like this, I won't have to actually go out and get a life.

So this weekend I did a lot of thinking about how miserable and lost I’ve felt this past week or so. Granted, I did take some time off because I was in an incredible amount of pain, but there were some days I felt good enough to get a little exercise but didn’t bother. I thought about thirty pounds and what a big deal that was, but I focused on the positive. Not about all the things I feel I’ll have to force myself to do, but about how hard I’ve worked to get this far and how proud I should be. I’m healthier, I feel better, I probably look better. Why would I want to throw all that away?

I’ve still got a long way to go, but I’m getting there. I guess we all have our ups and downs. Last week was a big downer, but this week I’m on my way up again. And I really need to call my therapist. Anybody got $50 they can loan me?

I’ll end this on a happy note: Maple Pecan Bread! It’s a test recipe; I had two slices and gave the rest to my family. Proud of me?

Week 2, Day 12 (revisited)

Ran today. Not much to report. It was 60°F, sunny, bit of a breeze. Perfect for running. Tank top and shorts weather. Woohoo! (Don't forget the sunblock, kids.) When I got to the track, two guys were there playing with their dogs. (I think it’s a law in Oregon that you have to have Labrador Retrievers. That’s all anybody has around here. Yellow. Black. Chocolate. One or the other, all three, two of each, etc.)

Thankfully, the dudes and their dogs left before I was done with my warm up walk. The runs were pretty easy and recovery was quicker than ever. It’s just that I still feel really heavy. Sluggish. Blehhhh. I’m going to be a chick and blame it on PMS. I’ve been eating like crap and stuffing my face all week.

My calves didn’t burn at all while I ran, either. I think I would have felt a lot better during the whole thing if my horrendous rib pain hadn’t come back. I’m more than a little concerned about it, so this week I’m definitely going to the Free Day at the local hospital. They take emergency cases first, but I really don’t have any other options. I’m having trouble sleeping and I can’t take deep breaths. Could I seriously have somehow broken a rib? I can’t think of what else could cause this kind of pain.

Anyway. The run went pretty well, all things considered. The weather promises to be absolutely gorgeous this entire week, so it’s back to my regularly scheduled programming (Tues, Thurs, Saturday runs).

For breakfast this morning I had a berry flavored Whole Food Energy Bar. I stole them from my sister a couple of days ago. They kind of taste like feet, but oh well. I gotta eat something. No idea what I'm doing for lunch or dinner.

See you on Tuesday.

Week 2, Day 11 (revisited)

I know I'm better than before
I will not be reconstructed
Just wanna stay right here
On the sunny side of the street

It’s supposed to rain today, but so far? No rain! And now that it’s warming up, I can get down to the track earlier. Not early enough, apparently. Right after I started the warm up walk, a man passed me from out of nowhere, scaring the mess out of me. It was pushing sixty out there and the guy was wearing jeans, work boots, a black sweatshirt and battered leather utility gloves.

Shit, I thought. I always knew I was going to die on this track.

I slowed down to let him pass me. You know, so I could keep an eye on him. Once I got to the other side of the track, a woman showed up with her Golden Retriever. Safety in numbers, folks. With three of us on the track, nobody’s killing anybody without having a pesky witness to intercept.

I had my pocketknife with me, so that helped, too.

Incidentally, this is the same Golden Retriever I met on the track last year, only back then he was a little bitty puppy. They grow so fast!

Anyway. It was 59°F when I got down to the track. Nice and sunny, a little bit of wind. Absolutely scrumptious running weather. So you’d think I’d have a good run, right? Meh. It was okay. I felt really, really heavy again, but I’ll be getting my period next week (sorry, guys) so maybe that had something to do with it.

I felt really good the entire run, though right around the fourth interval, I started to feel a little haggard. I woke up this morning feeling like I was coming down with a cold, but it was probably just allergies. A lot of it was mental, too. I had a lot on my mind, thinking about everything I need to do today, and I just felt really overwhelmed.

The weird thing is, it felt hard and easy at the same time. Towards the end of the last few intervals, I kept thinking, Is it over yet?? but at the same time, I felt like ... I don’t know how to describe it. I felt like I was running. Not just plodding along, but full-on running.

Weird.

Anyway, thank gad for good weather. And for hockey! Oh my gaaahd, last night’s Red Wings game was awesome. (Franzen’s a KILLER!) They shamed Colorado with their own lawn. I’m hoping they end up playing Dallas in the Western Conference finals. Why? Because I have an irrational, all-consuming hatred for all things Dallas. It started with the Cowboys and now includes the Stars (with the exception of Richards and Holmqvist). To be fair to the Cowboys, I don’t hate them nearly as much as I hate Greenbay.

Food-wise:

I’m ashamed to say, I had a bowl of Cocoa Crispies for breakfast. The shame doesn’t stop there, though. I bought the cereal because I wanted the Indiana Jones Adventure Spoon. Don’t judge me.

For lunch I’m planning on a chick’n wrap with lettuce tomatoes and salsa. Why not throw in a big salad as well? Dinner’s up in the air, but I might make lasagna this weekend. I got some Teese burnin’ a hole in my fridge! I’m also going to try my hand at some maple pecan bread. It’s a test recipe for a cookbook, so I’ll have to try one tiny little slice. The rest I can pawn off on my unsuspecting family.

See you again on Sunday.

(Tank says hi.)