Archive | March, 2013

the truth

28 Mar

I have hesitated to write about the topic I’m about to divulge in this blog.  My previous blog became mostly a diary in my battle with the following health issue, and I had thought I was going to set all of that aside now.  But the truth is, I can’t set aside something that is a part of me and has shaped who I am and how I see the world.  This might get lengthy, but I’m about to disclose.  Hold your hats!

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Today at work, the question finally came up.  I’ve been waiting–it’s been a question since I started teaching.  “Do you have kids? Why not?”  The question takes different forms and comes from different people–my students, who are astonished by the fact that I am over 18 and have never had a child.  From fellow teachers who have children and are looking for playmates, parenting ideas or a shoulder to lean on when parenting gets tough.  From fellow teachers who don’t want children right now, so they confide how they don’t want kids and are so thrilled that I don’t want them either (a huge–and incorrect–assumption).  From well-meaning coworkers who find out that we are childless and gush that we need to fix that, that I’m not getting any younger, that I will be such a good mom, what am I waiting for?

the good...the bad...the ugly...

 

It was after-school today.  One of the teachers at one of the schools I work at asked me how long I’ve been married.  We started talking about Eric, who he is, what he does, how we met, etc.  The natural progression of questions, I suppose, is “Do you have children?”  Now, that question is fine.  But the follow-ups are always crappy.  Today’s was “Is that in the cards any time soon?” 

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Normally, I’d hedge the question with someone who I scarcely know.  And I started to.  I just said, “Well yeah, hopefully someday.”  She immediately launched into how she was such a “Fertile Myrtle” and explained how she got pregnant with each of her 4 children, 2 of them being completely unplanned.  And I took it all in, calmly…

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And then I spilled.  2 years ago, I’d have kept my mouth shut and then fallen apart from this conversation.  I’d have sobbed my entire way home, drank some wine, cried myself to sleep while Eric rubbed my back and told me it would be ok.  I am stronger now.  Maybe I am supposed to be a voice for those who are still in the sobbing stage.

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I have a condition called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, or PCOS.  It’s a hormone imbalance and no one really knows what causes it.  My body makes eggs, but doesn’t always release them, and when it doesn’t, those follicles turn into mini-cysts, which form a ring around the ovaries (it looks like a pearl necklace–the x ray techs always tell me that it’s a textbook case and ooh and ahh over my perfect cystic ovaries).  The hormone problems cause all kinds of unpleasant side effects–cystic acne, weight gain, excess hair, depression.  And infertility.

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I didn’t use the I-word for a long time.  It was scary to me–I let it define me, a failure I had nothing to do with made me feel like everything in my life was a failure.  I’m getting over it.  But I am infertile.  That doesn’t mean that someday a medication may help us to achieve a pregnancy.  But we are not getting pregnant on our own.  We are not going to unintentionally get pregnant.  Or at least the chances of that happening are very, VERY slim.

maybe a small chance...but not holding my breath

Eric and I spent 2 years trying to conceive a baby.  I stopped taking the pill and didn’t get a period for a year.  Literally an entire year without a period.  I charted my temperatures and cervical mucous to try to time things to get pregnant (TMI? oh well.  In the realm of infertility, there is really no topic that’s off limits and you become relatively shameless…or at least I have.  All the poking, prodding and invasive tests–and I’ve only scratched the surface of the tests–have made me better and better at just letting go of my embarrassment).   Nothing happened, nothing worked, I knew I wasn’t ovulating based on the charts, but I refused to actually believe there was anything wrong.  I went to the doctor for my yearly, we discussed options.  I had read horror stories about the side effects of Clomid (a fertility drug used to treat PCOS).  I am not a big medicine person.  I don’t like covering up symptoms–I like getting to the root of them and fixing it at the source. 

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 So my doctor and I agreed to start me on Metformin.  Yes a diabetes drug.  PCOS is linked to insulin resistance.  I had been asking my PCP and OB/GYN for years why I ate a [relatively] healthy diet and exercised a ton, yet I gained weight.  They had always dismissed my concerns. I wish now that I had pushed the issue more because it turns out that I do have insulin resistance.  In any event, I started the Met, which made me horribly sick for a couple of weeks, but then I adjusted to the meds.  In two weeks, I lost 10 pounds, changing nothing about my daily routine.  I’ve lost about 25 pounds all together.  I continue to slowly lose weight.  I try to find good in “stuff” and I guess this is a perk to discovering the PCOS and infertility.

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In any event, after about 4 months on the Met, my cycle seemed to be normalizing.  I was thrilled.  And then just like that it became unpredictable again.  I waited it out–I really didn’t want to go on the fertility drugs.  But I knew that it wasn’t working–that we were not going to have babies this way.

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That second year of trying was probably my least mentally stable year ever.  I hated everything about myself–the way I looked, the way I felt, the fact that I couldn’t give Eric a baby, the fact that I couldn’t give myself a baby.  I was miserable and depressed and confused.  I was caught in a cycle–wait and hope that I was going to be pregnant, then test when I hadn’t had my period (side effect of PCOS), then test again and again and again (every week for weeks on end) until I got my period again, sometimes months later.  I read a great statement once about how infertility is worse than other tragedies because it’s a repeated tragedy–over and over and over–so you never really “get over it” because every few weeks there’s a “new” tragedy.  Every failed test was like a knife to the gut.  I’ve never failed anything.  I work hard to get what I want.  But this was something that, no matter how hard I worked at it, I couldn’t change the results of. 

this is what it feels like...

To top it all off, we are at the age where so many of our friends are having their own children.  Every pregnancy announcement, baby shower, baby announcement, hospital visit, child’s birthday party was like another knife to the gut.  It’s not that I wasn’t happy for my friends and family–I was thrilled for them.  But their joy was a reminder to me of what we didn’t and seemingly would never have.

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I finished the year out on Met only.  I went back to the doctor.  I told her how hard it had been, mentally and emotionally, to deal with my body’s failure.  I decided to go back on the pill to give myself some time to process what my body (and more importantly my mind) were going through.  I guess it may have been under the guise of  wanting to wait until I had a new (read: better) job [mission accomplished].  Later it became that I wanted to train for another marathon [mission soon-to-be-accomplished].  That I loved the fact that Eric and I could decide on a whim to go out, to go for a run, to go for a road trip [mission never-going-to-be-accomplished–we can do this with kids, too, just a little differently].  But the truth is that a major part of why I wanted to stop trying was because I couldn’t face the failing and the feeling of letting down Eric (and to a lesser extent my family and friends who knew we were trying and were rooting for us).

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I’m not sure when I’ll be ready to try again.  Soon I’d imagine.  Like I said, I’m in a much better place mentally than I’ve been in a long time.  I can see children and not get hopelessly depressed.  I know that I can’t be good at everything or do everything and that everyone needs help sometimes.  But it doesn’t make infertility any easier to deal with.  It doesn’t take away the pain of wanting a baby or the uncertainty of if/when we will have a baby. 

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I guess I kind of thought that when I started on the pill and started this new blog (where I was NOT going to write about infertility), that I was going to forget about how much I wanted a kid.  But just because I’m on the pill doesn’t mean I don’t want a child.  It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love getting pregnant.  It doesn’t mean that I don’t still sometimes stand in the mirror and puff my stomach out, just to see what it looks like to be preggo or look at baby clothes and nurseries online and daydream about what it would be like to need those things or see someone with a newborn baby and get a little teary-eyed and wistful.  I guess I thought I could compartmentalize and pretend that babies don’t matter to me right now and that everything is fine.  And it’s fine–but it’s not ok.  And I’m finally in a good place where I those 2 things can coexist–where I can be fine, but not ok.

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I know we will have kids someday.  One way or another.  And in the meantime, we are blessed to work with kids, many of whom need us so much because they don’t have anyone else.  I try to see the good in “stuff” (and my aunts and I came to this conclusion as well during one of my darker moments).  Maybe right now, we don’t have a baby of our own because God wants us to be able to focus 100% on other things and people to better prepare us to be even greater parents to our own children someday.

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Eric gave me a card a while back.  I keep it on the fridge, because it’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.  He wrote that we’ll have a baby someday.  That everyone takes different journeys to get places, and ours is just giving us a better story to tell.  I can’t wait to have babies someday and be able to tell them how much we wanted them, prayed for them, waited for them to arrive and bless our lives in all new ways.  And in the meantime, when people ask me why we don’t have kids, I’m going to tell them the truth, because an insensitive question deserves an discomforting answer.

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Project 333 Update

17 Mar

Way back in January, I wrote a post about Project 333.  I was pretty excited about it, but then I got really busy with the whole “getting a new job” business, and the fashion project went by the wayside.  Until now…

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Today, my four younger sisters and I took a ride to Kohls.  It’s time now for a few confessions:

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1.  I love the idea of minimalism, but hate the idea of a minimalist wardrobe–UNLESS we mean that I have a small wardrobe that I get to completely change frequently (like every couple of months).  I don’t know why–I really wear mostly the same clothes over and over again.  But I like buying new clothes, and I especially like buying new stuff since I’ve lost some weight.  I needed some new stuff (because I’m too skinny for the old stuff).  The problem is that I get sucked into trends and not necessarily “classic” pieces that can be mixed and matched (see #2).

2.  I have an obsession with colored skinnies.  When I first saw them, I swore I wouldn’t wear them.  Girls with big hips and thighs and legs do not wear skinnies, do they?  But the beautiful colors lured me in.  I bought some dark denim skinnies, then some red skinnies, and it’s been a downhill spiral since then…

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So…we went to Kohls because my sister, Val, works there.  She had mentioned that they had both the emerald green and cobalt blue skinnies (that I’ve been drooling over for a long time) on sale for $5.  Are you kidding me??? $5 for a pair of pants???  We went.  I bought a pair of cobalt blue pants (Val’s going to check her store for me to see about the green ones) and a pair of light purple ones.  They’re cool because I can roll them up, too, to make them capris when the weather gets nicer.  This is how I’m justifying it.

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Anyway, I came home and when the girls left, I decided to get serious about this Project 333 business.  Reminder of the rules:

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1.  30 items for the next month.  Everything else is off limits.  I can’t leave the house if I’m not wearing one of the things from my list of 30 items.

2.  I will not be counting jewelry in my 33 items.  Some people do, but I’m not.  I’m also not counting shoes/scarves/belts.  Some people do, but I’m trying to make this easy on myself for the first go ’round.  Maybe next time I’ll try to pare the list down even more.  We’ll see…

3.  I will not count underwear/hosiery in my 30 items (that would be gross).  I will also not count pajamas.

4.  I will not count workout clothes in my 30 items.  However, I cannot wear workout clothes as regular clothes.

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I picked out my clothes, and I’m going to start tomorrow.  30 days of the 30 items in the pictures.  [Side note:  I couldn’t come up with 30 things!  Shockingly, I wasn’t sure what last 3 items I wanted to add, so I decided to wait.  I would really like to get a new white cardigan, which would be one of the items, and then I figure I may want to add a skirt/dress to the mix, but I’m not sure yet that I can wear those to work or not, so I’m going to hold off on those for now.]  In any event, here are my items!

7 bottoms to choose from...

I really hope I can wear skirts to work, but I’m not sure.  Going into jail, I’m guessing that’s going to be a no-go.  And working with a kindergartener and 1st grader, I’m not sure that’s practical anyway.  On the other hand, I may also want to throw a skirt/dress in there for a fun date night/weekend outfit.  We’ll see…

cardigans were my previous obsession

Love me a cardigan–belted, belt underneath, buttoned up, open. 4 of these bad boys to mix in.

3/4 length and long sleeved shirts

Sadly, the nice spring-y weather we had 2 weeks ago has gone away.  So I guess I need to have 6 longer sleeves…

short sleeved shirts

Yay spring! 8 short sleeved shirts!

couple more shirts

I like button downs (and the green one’s a wrap around), but they typically don’t fit my chest.  These two are perfecto, though.

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So that’s 27 items.  I can add 3 more in during the course of the month.  As I go through, I’ll try to remember to take pictures of my outfits.  It would be cool to be able to mix and match and never wear the same outfit more than once, but I’m not sure that I’ll be able to make that work.  We’ll see, I guess.  Either way, this will be a fun little challenge for the next month!

a solid run and possibly TMI (but i want to complain haha)

16 Mar

Today I ran 16 miles. Liz came with us for the first 9.  Kevin dropped her off, took Barley for a walk, then met us at Charlotte Beach, where we picked up Barley, who ran with us.  After mile 9, it was just me and my sherpa.  This is probably for the best, because this is where I always start getting cranky, and I prefer for people not to see me like this.  Although today I really wasn’t cranky at all.  Hooray!

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This is the TMI part–skip it if you want.  Or read on for my dilemma. Around the time we got to Long Pond, turning away from the lake, I started to notice some chaffe-age going on.  The elastic on the legs of my underwear were bothering me.  I stopped at one point in the woods to try to readjust, but by that point, the damage was done and there was no amount of readjusting that was going to help me.  I considered stopping at Wegmans to take off my underwear and throw them away, but decided that’s a little too skanky (or something–after 11 miles, I was not thinking very logically I guess).  Strangely, after I’d decided to fore go Wegmans, I stopped noticing the chaffing.  Tonight, there is no forgetting about it-there is actually a section of my leg where I have what appears to be a blister, not just chaffing.  So note to self–look into either runderwear OR some compression shorts to wear underneath my tights/pants.  Because I don’t want to ever deal with this chaffing again.

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Anyway, minus my little chaffing problem, I felt amazing–like I could’ve kept going.  I actually considered it–for the last 4 miles or so, I kept going back and forth on doing 2 extra miles to make it 18 (for some reason, I really struggle to run uneven distances.  It REALLY bothers me not to see even numbers in my training log.  Pretty sure this makes me OCD or something.)  I decided, though, to call it a day at 16–my knee was a little twinge-y and Eric’s stomach wasn’t doing great things, so he was going home.  So I did, too.  I think it was a good call.  An ice bath, some foam rolling and stretching, and my legs are feeling pretty good.  A little sore (I can tell I ran for sure), but nothing major.  Last weekend, after the run around the bay (which was only 14 miles, but VERY hilly), I felt much worse.

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So tonight, I’m looking at my plan and looking back on my training log from before Corning.  PC (pre-Corning), I ran only 6 “long” runs (for the purposes of my marathon training, I consider “long” runs to be 15 or more miles).  I ran 3 16’s, an 18 and 2 20’s (although one of those was mostly walking for the final 4-5 miles, I think…we’d run out of water and it was like 85 and humid, so not much running went down).  My runs were in the 10:30ish range.  Never under 10:15.

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I have already run a 15 and 16.  If things go according to plan, I will run 2 more 15’s, 2 18’s, 2 20’s, and race a half marathon (which I am going to count as a long run, because I’m going to go balls to the wall).  That means a total of 9 “long runs.”  My times for all of my long runs thus far have been sub 10 minute miles–including the ones we did on cold, ice-y, windy days.  And EVERY place I’ve run has been far hillier than Buffalo will be.  I probably should include the 14 miler around Irondequoit Bay in my “long” runs because of the intense hills we ran–no doubt I’d have easily handled 16+ less hilly miles last weekend.  PLUS I’ve been running Sundays after intense “long” runs on Saturday–and I’m planning to continue that for at least some of these long run weekends.  Nothing fast Sundays, but just some easy, 40-60 minute runs to shake things out and get the blood flowing to flush out the lactic acid.  Running on tired legs on Sundays will make me stronger for those last 6 miles of the race (I hope).

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So the long and short is that I am running solidly right now.  I’m feeling good.  I’m going to have more time now after school to get in runs AND cross training AND some strength training.  All of this, plus some extra “long” runs, should put me in a great place for my half AND more importantly for Buffalo.  I have been wavering with whether I wanted to run the marathon, whether I could realistically train for it or if I needed to just drop to the half.  But tonight I feel a renewed sense of confidence.  I was sitting in my ice bath, shivering uncontrollably, when it hit me.  I had to run less than 10 more miles from what I ran today to finish a marathon.  The marathon is completely a mental game–and I feel like today I turned a corner in my mental game–thinking to myself (unprompted) that it was “only” 10ish more miles is a great sign.  There is NO doubt in my mind right now that I could finish a marathon if I wanted to.  So at this point, my runs are just helping me to finish stronger and faster.  Game on.

eleven

15 Mar

I officially started my new ESOL job this week! So far, I am LOVING it–the hours are better, the kids have been cool, and it’s something different.  I think I was ready for a change of pace–life was getting pretty stagnant, and this new job means constant changing, going with the flow, and adjusting.

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I was a little bit nervous about working with kids who are in jail/out on parole.  I didn’t really know what to expect.  I haven’t been to jail yet (that starts next week), but I have loved almost every minute of working with the kids on parole.  To be fair, many of them are also not parolees–they’ve been placed in this program for truancy problems, for excessive fighting in their home schools, and to try to get them back on the right track and graduated.

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Today, a new kid who I haven’t met yet showed up.  Did I mention that these kids have pretty bad attendance (most of them)?  Anyway, she was a tough kid, right from the get go.  “Who is she?” she asked with a huge attitude as I walked in today.  She continued with the attitude for most of the day.  Every other word was a curse word (not at me or about me, just about life in general).  She spent a lot of time singing to herself, in particular some song about selling/smoking weed.  I had pulled her to try to catch her up on her ELA, since today was the last day of the marking period.  She listened to the story while I read and could answer all of the study guide questions, but refused to actually write any of them.  Every 20 minutes, she “needed a break.”  We got through about 5 chapters and 2 pages of questions in 2 hours.  It was painstakingly slow work, and I wasn’t satisfied, but the ELA teacher was impressed I’d gotten her through that much work.

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One of the things she said, though, really hit home with me.  The book they’re reading is called “After Tupac and D Foster.”  It’s kind of a coming of age story about these girls growing up in the inner city, dealing with foster homes, family, friendship.  I’ve only read a few chapters, but it’s really good, and the kids really seem to connect with it.  Anyway, we’re reading, and the girls in the book are talking about how they can’t leave their block, and my student snorts and asks how old they are.  So we discuss what we’ve already read and conclude that they are 11, just turning 12.  And she stops for a minute, looks off wistfully and says quietly, “Man I wish I was still eleven.”  I just let it hang for a minute, then said “Yeah life sure is easy when you’re a kid, huh?”  “Yeah everything gotta be so complicated now.  Ain’t nothing easy no where anymore.”

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Our little moment was broken by her giggling and talking about how she’ll “sell a fuckin dime or a nickel.”  I’m sure she was just embarrassed and needed to remind me how tough she is.

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Truth is, sometimes I wish I could go back to being eleven, too.  Not that I’m not happy now–to the contrary, things are really, really good.  But simpler would be better some days.  Emotions were so much less complicated back then.  I miss the times when good was just good and bad was just bad and there wasn’t really gray area.  When all I thought about was me.

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Anyway, the first week of the new job went really well, and I am excited for next week and to see what jail is like and how the new schedule is going to work out.  Hooray.

truth is

7 Mar

I’ve been down on my running a lot lately.  I’m not sure why.  I just feel like I’m slogging through, forcing something that isn’t there.  My heart hasn’t been 100% into it, and I’m not really sure why.

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Tonight, we were running and discussing how it’s fun to see progress.  I have seen a TON of progress in the past year and a half or so.  I’ve taken a minute and a half off my miles for anything shorter than a 10k and can comfortably run a 9:30ish pace for longer distances.  I’ve run up to and including 26.2 miles at a time.  I’ve run in the morning, the afternoon, the evening and even the middle of the night.  I’ve run in good weather, bad weather, in between weather.  I’ve run with friends, with frenemies (don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about), with strangers, with dog-dog, and with just myself.  I’ve run on familiar roads, new roads, and trails, some that I know like the back of my hand and some that I’ve never seen before.

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And yet somehow I feel like my training isn’t going well, like my running is stagnant–it takes a lot of convincing to get me up and out the door to get these runs in.  Honestly, I’m having a hard time caring much about running.

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I keep telling myself that this new job is going to make marathon training better.  The better schedule, combined with better weather (running in capris  and rolling my sleeves up tonight felt REALLY good) should make for some really good runs.  But the truth is that right now I just want the marathon to be over.  I’m not into wishing my life away or whatever, but I’d be lying if I said I was enjoying this training.  I’m ready for May to get here so I can run this race and get on with my life.  I guess that’s the point of picking and registering for races–to keep you motivated, especially through the long, dreary, cold winters of WNY.

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Looking ahead, I’d like to spend this summer:

1.  training for a really fast 5k in the late summer/early fall (I think I may set a goal of 22…that’s 2 minutes faster than my current PR, but I see no reason that’s not possible if I put in the work).

2.  doing really fun long runs on trails all summer (we had a great time this summer at Mendon with great people doing the 50K loop…)

3.  camping like it’s my job (I am beyond pumped for Indian Lake and the ADK this summer…and I think we should do another  backpacking excursion in Allegany…it’s free, minus the gas to get there.  May as well do it up!)

4.  burning shit in the backyard.  I miss campfires.  Eric is the real pyro of the family, but I am definitely number 2.  haha.  There’s something soothing about a fire, chill music, a beer and my boys in the backyard after a long run or a good speedwork session or a hard workout.  I miss that.  I’m ready.  Spring/summer, get here soon, please!

shamrock run

3 Mar

Today was the Shamrock Run in Buffalo.  I am not going to lie–I was NOT excited about this race.  I was not too excited about going to Buffalo again (the 3rd time in 2 weeks).  I have not run any speed workouts in 2 or 3 months.  I have not had very many “good” runs recently (realistically, they’ve been fine, just not what I wanted them to be I guess).  It’s really cold.  Last night, I was feeling sick (I’m up to 3 pills a day and that equals frequent upset stomach).

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We found Joe, Lindsey, Kim and Joe’s stepmom before the race, but then went to get our stuff from the car.  Lindsey asked if I was racing and I said, “Don’t know.  We’ll see how it goes.”  I wasn’t trying to be elusive–I just genuinely didn’t know.  In my head, I figured I could run about an 8:30 pace, which would be a 42:30.  But I wasn’t sure how realistic that was.  I decided to play it by ear and see how I felt after 2 miles.

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We got into the port-a-potty line around 11:35.  By 11:50 (10 minutes til race time), we were still waiting on 8 people.  This was the SLOWEST line ever.  I finally said forget it.  We found some nice trees–there was HARDLY any cover for me.  I didn’t even care.  I’ve heard rumors of how the longer you run for, the less modesty you have about peeing.  I swore up and down that I would never pee anywhere that was even remotely questionable.  Today I broke that promise to myself.  I was mostly amused by the entire experience.  Eric was the distractor, and most people were already at the start line, so I was pretty safe, I guess.

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We got to the start with about 1 minute to spare.  I lined up far in the front, but not far enough.  The race started, but I couldn’t go anywhere.  I was stuck.  It took a good mile before the crowd broke up enough for me to get into a good rhythm.  I was annoyed by all of the walkers lining up in the front.  Alas.

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I didn’t remember most of the course from last year–I know last year’s course was changed because of the wind.  But still.  There were a LOT more hills than I’d remembered–nothing major, just going over bridges.  The second biggie was in mile 2.  I hit the top and suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to vomit.  I gave myself permission to do it–normally I fight that feeling, BUT I CAN’T FIGHT THIS FEELIN ANYMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE.  I didn’t puke.  I decided to just keep going–if I’m not puking, I should be running.

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By mile 3, things started to get a little bit uncomfortable.  I just told myself that I was over halfway there, I just had to hang on.  By mile 4, I was really feeling pukey.  I thought I knew where the course was going, so I turned it on too soon, then realized what I’d done and had to pull back a bit.  I kept rolling through.  I crossed the finish line, stopped to walk and was POSITIVE i was going to puke.  I jogged over to a field where there was a sewer grate.  But I didn’t puke.  I didn’t even dry heave.  This is the first time I haven’t in a race in forever.  Miraculous.

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Even more miraculous–I ran a 42:57.  My overall pace (I ran more than the 4.97 the course is advertised as–that always happens even though I do my best to run the tangents–trying to get around people at the start probably doesn’t help) was an 8:33/mile.  Last year, on a shorter course (by a mile) I ran an 8:39/mile.  I felt good, minus the pukey-ness.  I mean, looking back, there were points where I was cruising–not pushing–where I could’ve done more.  Especially in those first couple of miles, when I was trying to hold back a bit and dodge people.

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Eric and I jogged to the car while exchanging battle stories (he had a fabulous race himself).  We changed clothes, then hit the beer tent.  It was crazy packed.  We had a couple beers and went to a bar where Joe’s family goes every year.  We had a beer there, then went home.  I’m glad we ran this race.  Even though I hadn’t wanted to run it, it was a TON of fun, and I ran really well.  It gives me a better idea of where I am, and will help me to create a better marathon plan.  Yay.

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My legs are a little sore tonight.  But nothing major.  We’re meeting friends from Rochester who are coincidentally here in Buffalo and wanted to run at Chestnut Ridge Park.  So we’re going to rock at least 10 (that’s the hope anyway) tomorrow.  Ideally, it would be closer to 15 for me, but seeing as today was a race, I guess I’m down with a little bit shorter run.  This race may have been just the boost I needed to my running.  In a week, I start a new job with a better schedule.  The combination of that and the ever-improving weather (spring, hurry!) should bolster my running.  When this marathon is over, I don’t want to do another for a while.  I want to train SUPER hard for a fast 5k.  I think I can get to a 22 by late summer/early fall if I work hard enough.  I’m ready.  Game on.

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