The Crud

Hate is a strong word. I hate getting sick.

Preparation for the upcoming Sunset Stampede was going well up through Friday. It was then that a load of bricks was deposited into the center of my head without warning, and certainly without my consent. I managed to meander through the weekend, sleeping a large part of Sunday. Nonetheless, I continued to run on. I made it through a 12-miler yesterday afternoon, blowing my nose about every mile and a half. My pace for this medium-long run was actually somewhat more "speedy" than normal; perhaps this increased pace is a sign that some of my speed sessions are paying off. Or maybe I was just in a hurry to get home, take a shower and crawl back into bed. Hopefully the unknown force that put the bricks in my head will remove them with the same mystery before the race on Saturday.

After Saturday, I'll jump into a new schedule to prepare for the upcoming super-humungous 10K. I've continued running with the "in-training" group for the local big race in July. If nothing else, this volunteer work will have me running the race course nearly every Saturday. Thus, I should be intimately familiar with every hill and valley along the route. The size of the "in-training" group seems to wane as the weeks progress, but some folks seem committed. If nothing else the weekly group runs get them out for that week. Some don't run or run/walk during the week. As long as they can get through 6.2 miles on July 4 happy and healthy, they'll be fine.

Life's Turns

A couple of posts ago I pondered my difficulty with abandoning an old friend in order to participate in an upcoming race. Sometimes decisions do happen for a reason. As I was going about my evening routine of tending to the animals, the phone rings. It's my old friend. She said "it's a good thing you weren't planning on going."

My initial thought was that they had changed the date of the service, or that some other subsequent unfortunate occurrence had befallen their family. "I'm not going either," she continued.

I immediately and selfishly felt a sense of release and relief. My decision not to go didn't turn out badly. As it comes to pass, she did not want to participate in a formal ceremony, which the event had turned into. She cited various and sundry other justifications (pregnancy, her husband not wanting to go either), perhaps more to convince herself than to convince me. I think she'll be okay with the decision not to go now. I wonder if years down the road she'll regret not attending. Given the physical distance between my family and I, I have missed some deaths including a grandmother who died of old age, an uncle who shot himself in the desert after having a heart attack (because he was alone and distant from any aid and did not want a slow death) and an aunt who'd been in ailing health. I regret most not attending the ceremonies for my grandmother, not so much for her sake, but for my mother's. There are times when I feel badly that I don't travel north to family often. At the same time, I'm comforted within the heart of my current family unit. It provides love and support. The distant family often supplies a sense of discomfort, perhaps solely caused by the fact that I'm so far removed. A veritable catch-22. I take a sense of solace in the fact that I'm not like my eldest sister who we only know through her web page. For the past 14 years or so she has basically refused contact with us. I wonder if some day she'll regret the distance.

Random Thoughts

I love maps. So, the other day when I found out that Google has a nifty satellite component to their maps, I was in heaven (maps.google.com, click on satellite). Nothing quite like finding your house, your high school and major landmarks on a satellite image. Some areas are more granular than others.

After reading way too many Dan Brown books, I've finally moved on to new authors. I just finished a Scott Turow book from our library's browsing collection and am now plowing through John Kennedy Toole's A Confederacy of Dunces. I've heard Toole's work was a worthwhile humorous read. I must admit I was a bit "weirded out" by Ignatius Reilly's "sexual" fantasy in the first chapter. Since then, the book has been more tame.

Running life has been just going along, not necessarily dominating life quite like when I was in the midst of marathon training (although my husband might argue with that). Of course I'm already thinking beyond the fall marathon to next spring when I might just try New Orleans as a follow up race. I've signed up for our local track club's volunteer coaching program to try to get some help with improving my speed so that I can reach my goal in Chickamauga. I just received my initial correspondence from him. I'm not too optimistic about it though. While I'm using a volunteer, I've also started volunteering to assist with folks "in training" for the big local 10K coming up in July. The group met on Saturday morning for a run. Most of the folks "in training" were jog/walk people, who did more walking than jogging. My hope was to be able to run with folks and help them along. I jogged with one woman for about a mile before she had to stop to walk. The up side was getting to meet some other runners who were volunteering. I had a nice jog back to the starting point with another volunteer.

I got my hair cut. This exercise has turned into an annual affair. Now I must wait the requisite month before my hair goes back into a permanent bun for the next year (it's too short now to put into a pony tail). Or maybe at some point I'll finally go to someone other than Crappy Clips and get a real haircut. I'm just way too stubborn and cheap. I succumbed to the haircut after a futile couple of hours wandering around in search of pants that fit. I still can't figure out where the big-waisted small hipped women are. I could fit an extra several inches of me in the waist while the rest of the pants seem to fit. But, I don't plan to spot gain just so I can find pants. Maybe moo moos are in order now....

Old Friends

The marathon recovery this week appears to be going well. I'm using a Higdon intermediate schedule for recovery. His philosophy seems somewhat unorthodox given that he includes mile intervals (albeit at a conservative pace) and tempo runs. The intervals for this past week were supposed to be at marathon pace. I just ran at a comfortable quick pace which turned out to be 30-45 seconds faster than marathon pace. I'm just hoping to be fully recovered to deal with the massive challenge of the Sunset Stampede.

I'm entering the stampede with mixed emotions. This day will also be the date of a memorial service of a friend's grandfather. I've known this friend since I was eleven years old and have spent time with her family. Despite the fact that we've known each other for so long, since we left high school she and I now only have the past in common, which makes things difficult. Phone conversations tend to be awkward because other than recounting current events, there's little to talk about. I'm fully engaged with running and life. I've no intentions at this point to produce any offspring. Meanwhile, said friend is pregnant with her third child and has no interest in physical fitness. Friendships are strange. In romantic relationships, once it's over, it's over. Generally lovers don't remain friends (because it often times becomes extraordinarily uncomfortable in future relationships). However, with friendships, they can persist despite there being little in common between the two parties. I feel guilty at this point that I would rather go to a race than to attend the memorial service. I would rather spend time with other friends, and my only other close companion besides my husband, my running. It's a battle between old friends and current friends. Current friends that support me now seem to win.