Archive for September, 2010

Not much happening in the World Of Flo this week.   A snotty headcold kept me in on Monday and yesterday I ventured out for a slow 13, then today was an easy 8.

OK, here’s a funny weird thing.  The sweet fellow who helped me to the finish at the Half found me on Facebook, which was wonderful as I could thank him properly.  But get this…his profile photo is one of us together in my disgusting teeter to the finish.  He bought 2 of them (both are in his profile section) so I can now see myself in full magnification.  ::sigh::

I hope I don’t sound ungrateful because I love that he found me (I was going to look for him after the sting had worn off a bit) but man, those photos turn my stomach.  He’s got over 700 friends, so it’s mildly entertaining to think I’m starring on all his status updates, looking like utter hell.

This concludes one of my shortest,  most boring posts ever.  Later, friends.

EDIT!  I went back to his profile to make myself miserable just for the hell of it and he cropped me out of his current profile shot.  Bless you, V, you are not only my hero, but a gentleman as well.

One Year Off The Ganga
It’s today!  Despite a few generous invitations over the past year, I’ve held firm to my resolve of no more pot smoking.  I’m happy with my decision to quit, though it didn’t produce the outcome I desired at all (quieter breathing during races and improved running). In fact, it messed with my heart rate for about 6 months.

What I gained from quitting was some renewed motivation on the work front and the end of guilt for having a habit.  Both results are satisfying, though it’s amusing how small the payoff actually ended up being.  Oh well, it’s good to be untethered.

Status Update
Yesterday capped a sweet running week of 49 no-pressure miles with one day off due to a sore throat/snotty cold.  The cherry on the sundae was an overnight visit from one of my 3:20 thread pals, Ultra running queen Amy and her cool cage-fighter hubby, Bryan.  We had a blast filling our guts, jabbering away and enjoying a lovely 10-miler on Sunday morning.

This week’ll be more easy running with maybe something faster near the end of the week just to keep steady.  I don’t feel a big hurry to push ahead but I don’t want to lose what I have, whatever that may be (talk about your giant question mark).

I got my appointments for the medical tests: breathing thing is on Oct. 4th and stress test Oct. 28th, so it’s part of the background for now.  I’m not thinking about it, I just want to enjoy the coming Fall temps while letting my body steer the pace.

My Complicated Head
The day after those race photos and the video came out, I had some really dark thoughts along the lines of “What am I doing this for?”  You know, you spend serious time and thought working on your body to get it as racing-able as possible, solid months working on form and posture to make yourself more efficient and then it all goes to shit when you see yourself folded over at the waist looking like something from Night Of The Living Dead.

And while you know it isn’t warranted, you can’t help but feel a sense of revulsion, particularly when it’s not the first time.  I see that video (btw, $70 for a Half and all they can afford to photograph is the finish line?  RNR are assholes) and I can’t help but think it’s something I did wrong, like pacing so far outside of my fitness level like a naive beginner.  That’s the suck.  The self-blaming.  It never really leaves, even though I’m going for tests and stuff, I’ll always have that shadow in my mind that it was something I chose to do incorrectly.  You’ve no idea how much I hate that.

But that’s when I feel like dwelling on it, which I don’t.  Right now, my thoughts are focused on continuing what I’ve started.  That this can’t interfere with the concentration I’ve done on my body, form and fitness, that I am simply moving forward from where I was on Saturday, Sept. 18th when I was confident, hopeful and pleased with what I had achieved so far.   Because that’s the fun!

And honestly, every day that I’ve been out on the road this week, it’s as if nothing bad happened.  I start running and I’m right back in the beautiful place again, the one where I know what I’m doing and have utter control of each step.  Where I feel graceful and pretty.  That’s the me I know.

New Headband Styles!
An armload of new headband goodies for you gals.

1. Brown Happy Flowers
2. Psycho Lady Red and Psycho Lady Black
3. Japanese Gold (gorgeous fabric, looks like hand-painted gold on black)
4. Warm Paisley Delight
5. Red Polka-Dots (so you can compete with that Minnie Mouse guy) and Black Polka-Dots
6. Sequins!  In turquoise, pink or silvery-white hologram

Check out the New Stuff page to see ‘em in all available widths.

Though it didn’t seem it at the time…

If you follow me on Facebook, you may have seen my post a couple weeks back about Zipcars.  My car has been on its last legs for about a year:  it farts blue smoke, has had trouble starting since the winter, clearcoat is totally scabby looking, 141,300 miles on it.

I was thinking about getting a new car, though dreading it, because I hardly use it – mostly to go to one particular recording studio or to the big grocery store and shopping center.  Other than that, I’m walkable to most everything I need, so the idea of shelling out a few thousand bucks for something that’ll be sitting on the street was less than pleasant.

I had decided I’d use Zipcars as soon as my inspection was due (end of October).  Zipcars are cars you rent by the hour, you don’t have to buy insurance or gas, it’s a great deal and there are tons of cars within a few block radius of my apartment.  You know where this is going, right?

So I’m driving to the doctor and am in this single-lane tunnel that takes cars to the interstate highway.  It’s rush hour so there’s a huge line of cars behind me.  I’m the first car at the light and while I’m sitting there, the car dies.  Just dies.  Dead.

I am FREAKING out, have no idea what to do, all these cars are beeping at me and I can’t do anything!  So I call 911 and they tell me someone will be there soon but I have that doctor’s appointment so I’m panicking.  Meanwhile, after the light changes twice, 2 guys push my car out of the way, to a precarious spot behind the museum where a fast moving car or bus could easily rear-end it.  Not a good place to leave a car.

I have 10 minutes until my appointment but here I am waiting for the cops and I have a dead car.  The appointment is about 1.4 miles away.  So I call 911 again and the cop tells me to leave a note and do what I have to do.  I gather my stuff and start running.

Then I realize that I’m running like marathon pace and maybe that’s not the best thing to be doing since I’m going to the doctor about collapsing during strenuous running.  I start walking as fast as I can.  That lasted until about 6 blocks from the doctor’s when I slung my shoulder bag onto my back and ran like a true racer (who happens to be wearing a cute halter top and short skirt).

I get there just in time, covered in sweat, my top totally soaked around my waist, highly stressed and wondering what the hell will happen to my car in the meantime.

The Appointment
As expected, nothing yet.  I’m going to get an Echo Stress test, though my doctor is sure it won’t find anything since it only lasts 13 minutes and I’m too fit for it to have me reach much stress.  I’m also getting a Spirometry test to see about breathing.  She doesn’t  think it’s asthma because you can hear my labored breathing, which she said means it’s higher than the lungs.  I find this interesting since my running pals who report having asthma report loud breathing.  I’m convinced I’ll be left in limbo when all is said and done without anything conclusive.

I was feeling blue when I left the doctor’s office, wondering what I’m going to do without a resolution, but as I started walking home, my mood began to lift.

Unfinished Business
It was night time and I was in the University City area of Philly where all the Frat houses are and where I’m never at, certainly not walking at night.  It was pretty fun though, lots of kids playing, drinking, yelling and having a good time.  The air was incredibly wonderful and I was on the phone telling my story to my pal Lara, then to my ex Nick (who I’d called while stuck in the car but who is in Las Vegas so couldn’t help me out).

So by the time I get near the car, I’m feeling kind of chipper and actually hoping the car isn’t there.  I have decided during my walk that I just want to dump the thing.

I laugh as I approach the museum and see my hazards blinking into the night, realizing how funny it is that I’m disappointed to see it.  I call Geico and ask if they’ll tow my car, permanently.  She tells me I’ll have to pay for it myself, then she hooks me up with Vince, the towing guy who tries to talk me out of wanting any money for it.  I tell him all I want is to not pay for the tow.  Vince is all for that.

So I’m waiting for the tow truck and getting all sentimental about the old Saturn.  It was the only car I’ve ever repaired myself (swapped out a cracked coolant temp sensor, cleaned and replaced the EGR valve to stop it stalling, plus some other stuff) so we’ve had a long bonding process.  Then I call my ex-husband, Jonny.  Since we bought it together back in 1996 it only seemed fitting to involve him in the last rites.

The tow truck comes and after I sign my name, she was gone.  I don’t have a car anymore.  And you know what?  I was smiling and laughing to myself as I headed home in that beautiful evening breeze.

Whatever happens with racing doesn’t really matter that much, I’m still a runner and that’s the important thing.  Beyond that is life and the funny little stories that happen and the people we know.  That is the good stuff.

It’s 7:05 pm on Tuesday.  I wrote this post during the day and was going to release it tomorrow morning.  I was in a pretty good mood while I was writing.  This morning was a sweet 8-miler, in the afternoon I had an excellent voiceover job and about 30 minutes ago, I ate a good dinner.  Then the race photos came out.  I could make you hunt for my number but I know you’ll find them anyway.

It’s 7:13 pm on Tuesday.  I’m sitting with a huge glass of wine and will get very drunk tonight.  I can now see exactly what happened on Sunday, or at least, the finish line portion.  There was a preamble preceding that part of the horror show that I will conveniently get to forget because nobody was taking photos.  But there is the afterwards: a fake smile on a twisted body.

It’s 7:22 pm on Tuesday.  I’m thinking about the nice man who helped me across the finish line and whose own finish photos are completely ruined and will be in the Lost and Found section since you can’t see his number.  He’s too busy helping that stranger get to and across the finish line.  A very nice man.

It’s 7:28 pm on Tuesday.  I want to find a hole and sink into it for a long, long time.  Who is this person?  It’s me

Earlier that day…
First off, I seriously cannot thank you blog readers, Facebook friends and 3:20 buddies enough for all the kind and insightful comments you’ve left.  After reading through the responses, particularly those coming from doctors (so handy to have 3 online Dr. friends posing as normal people) I’m convinced that it is indeed something in my body not working properly.  So I made an appointment with my doctor for Thursday evening and will let you guys know what’s up on Friday’s post.

Witnesses
I could not believe that in that sea of race humanity, 3 people who know me saw me stumbling to the finish.  And I’d only ever met one of them!

Jenn, my local friend who was volunteering saw me at the finish line, saying in the last post’s comment “I was really scared for you when I saw you starting to sag, stumble and almost go down 15 feet from the finish. Thank goodness that guy was there to bolster you.”

Then Peggy, a Facebook friend and new gal to Philly whom I only just met today (though in a strange turn of fate, she also saw me that day I had fallen after seeing the dead fox) was there to see me stumble in mile 13.

And lastly, Cathleen who reads this blog (who should have introduced herself to me at the Expo!) ;-) emailed, “I just read your race report … I’ve been waiting for it because I unfortunately saw you go down right after mile 13.  What I saw happen out there today looked like someone fighting with their body & their body was winning.”

Thank you ladies for adding onto my impressions of what I felt and saw.  There’s something comforting in the thought that I wasn’t all alone in the midst of that.

Noake’s “Central Governor”
Julie brought up a great point in a comment, that of Noake’s “Central Governor”.  He contends that our brain knows when we’re going into redline mode and automatically adjusts to protect our organs from failure.  I mentioned that it seems like I’m missing the “red danger signal” , but when I spent real time going over how this happens and what happens beforehand, I realize I’m not missing this at all, I react the same way everyone else does: I slow down.

That’s the Central Governor at work, the mechanism Noake’s speaks of that naturally protects us from overload.  That would make the loss of leg control and collapsing a separate issue since, if my body was like everyone else’s, my paces would simply fall further and I’d continue at the lowered speed.  What’s more, if it was a matter of stubborn determination causing these “spells”, I’d have lots of company stumbling along with me, since I’m positively not the most determined runner out there.

So What Could It Be?
It’s good that dehydration and excessive heat are not part of the picture this time as it removes those variables.  Btw, I don’t believe 70 degrees was excessive for me, I’ve been running hard all summer in much hotter weather than that.  Also, I looked up blue lips and it’s not tied to dehydration or heat sickness.

I’ve had a couple comments and an excellent private message from sufferers of exercise-induced asthma – the symptoms seem to fit well: labored breathing, excessive sweating, even blue lips for some.  This makes sense to me because the way my breathing sounds is like someone about to bonk, though I can keep going for miles like that.  The only thing that doesn’t compute for asthma is then why doesn’t this happen during workouts?  It seems as though I’d experience it at least occasionally during a hard workout.

My 3:20 doctor buddy Dan says the lips and sweat point to an inability to control temperature and he and Melissa (yet another doctor pal) are insistent on a treadmill test.  I will definitely ask for one, though I’m not convinced it’ll find anything, only because A) this happens after some time and I’m not sure they’d keep me on there that long and B) When my ex, Nick, got a stress test, they didn’t find some truly serious heart blockages that only days later required an operation to have 3 stents put in.   But I’m game for it and will insist when I speak to my doctor.

What It Isn’t
I got a private message from a well-meaning Facebook friend saying this was all in my head.  I realize that our online world is a strange place, none of us really knows one another, though the one thing I think is clear from my writing is that I’m about as pragmatic and self-investigative a person as you are likely to find.  I consider every angle including the ones that don’t leave me in the best light and this includes psychological components.

No way in hell was this is in my head or, as he suggested, a vestige of post traumatic stress from June’s 5K.   It’s a physical matter of blood or oxygen not getting to where it’s supposed to. I am sure of it.  The question is, why?

If ever there was a report I did not want to write, it was this one.  I don’t even want to think about it, really.  I scare myself.  Each time I have one of these incidents  (it’s now “each time” which is so magnificently depressing) my tolerance for “look on the bright side, it was a valuable lesson” dims exponentially.  But lucky me, I have this blog and many lovely people looking out for me, so I have to explain it.

The Girlies
Because this is going to be long, I’ll just say that it was a wonderful weekend despite the shit that went down thanks to the gaggle of wonderful girlies I got to meet, remeet and spend serious fun time with.  Kat, Rebecca, Reyana, Audra, Loren, Sharon and Daleen are my kind of women: strong, funny, smart, surprising and loving.  What else is there?

Couple of photos reposted from FB (unfortunately, not everyone was around when there was a camera).

Me and Kat waiting for the bus after the Expo

Brunch after the race with Reyana, Kat and Rebecca

Race Morning
I was excited and ready to roll.  I’ve had a feeling of happiness all week about this race, haven’t placed much pressure on myself, even though I’ve mentioned a PR, my thought was  “if I can, cool, if not, the next one will get it.”

A few of the gals met at my apartment for a last-minute pit stop (so great living a few blocks from the race start) then we left for the race.  Loren and I were in corral 2, so we kissed the others good luck and got in place. I saw Esined from the MRT forum and we had a little hello, then I stepped back and got ready for a great race.  Great race.  Funny.

The Race
It was warm to start (the weather thing I use reports 67 at the start and 70 when I finished) but I’ve been comfortably running in low 70s these past couple weeks (after way hotter) that I wasn’t overly concerned.  The first 3 miles were right on target, 7:08s (I didn’t stop at any water stops), though my Garmin was wonky during that time due to the buildings and the 4th split was marked incorrectly.  At one point my Garmin said 10:20 then went to 6:49s so I was really playing it by effort for that first section though I kept looking at that sub 7 business wondering if it was me or the Garmin.

It had to have been the Garmin but I carried a bit of anger at myself in the later miles for possibly having run too hard early on.  Also, I kept missing mile markers which threw me off further.

Water and Gels
I did probably 5 water stops which put a little panic into me each time because I really do suck at them, though I think I got enough fluids overall.  I ended up grabbing 2-3 cups as I’d go through, though got only one swig from each cup.  It definitely slowed me down but still, I felt I was doing ok on that score.  For the record, you can be sure I was well hydrated to begin with.

I had a gel 35 minutes in and maybe 2/3 of another about 1:05 in (fuzzy memory on this).  I nursed the second gel over a wide stretch since there wasn’t water for a while.  It was the first time I’d pinned gels to my shorts which worked great except for the second one, when I didn’t realize I’d pulled the pin off with the gel till I jabbed my lip.  Live and learn.

Also, I had a huge plate of pasta the night before and PB and banana on bread before leaving the apartment, so I was well covered in the carbs department.

My Breathing
My breathing was labored from about 5mi on, but it always is so I can’t use it as a cue of overworking.  In fact, the reason I quit smoking pot last year was because of this very race, I hated the way I sounded throughout and thought maybe that’d help.

Around mile 5.5, Loren passed me looking very casual and comfortable and later told me she noticed my breathing when I said something to her but again, that’s how I am in these things.  I always feel sorry for the people around me, as I’ve posted in several race reports.

That said, I did feel as though I was working hard around the time I saw Loren but doing a body check my legs felt ok and while I wasn’t comfortable, it’s a race and I have yet to feel anything but crappy while in the midst of one.

I thought I was slowing for a few miles but accepted it.  I had written main splits on my arm (5K, 10K, 10mi) but didn’t bother looking at them because what was I going to do? I could only go as fast as I could go.

Friend Sightings
I was so happy to see my buddy Lara on her bike around mile 11 or so (she reports that I looked good at that point) and about a mile later saw my friend Kevin on his bike who yelled out great encouragement.   I was actually feeling ok after that (I mean, within the race crap feeling) so I sped up a bit, which ended up biting me in the ass when I hit mile 13.

The Horrible Part
Irony of ironies, at the very beginning of the race I saw an ambulance waiting on the side and laughed to myself that at least this race wasn’t going to be one of “those”.  Ah, hubris.

In mile 13, I lost control of my legs.  It felt exactly as it did during June’s 5K when I collapsed. I describe it as a Road Runner feeling, the way he’d run with this legs behind him in a circle, that’s how it feels when I’m doing it (though without his efficiency).  Incidentally, this happened in the same part of the course as that 5K, a treeless, sunny area that I never like running through.

When I felt this start to happen, I ordered myself to slow down, though I didn’t quite bring myself to walk at that point, I was scared and couldn’t believe that this thing was happening again.  Then, in a crazy deja vu, I stumbled, just like at that 5K and again, a nice runner helped me up and I waved him on, though this time I was able to compose myself a bit. (I would have forgotten touching the ground, btw, if it wasn’t for the small hole on my palm that I discovered as we were walking back to the apartment.)

God, I did not want to, but I started walking.  Honestly, it was about 1/4 mile left to the finish, so there were tons of people screaming and other runners telling me to keep going.  It was overwhelming and depressing and scary and  Oh look, now I’m crying writing this.  I’ve managed to fend off tears the entire day.

Anyway, there’s all those people yelling and I just don’t understand what’s wrong with me and how I let myself get into this horrible frightening place and I manage to jog again.  More fuzziness while I stumble up to the finish line and another nice runner man helps me across (I don’t remember how long he was with me beforehand, could have been the finish line or a bit before…so weird).

I’m genuinely scared to see the photos.  Bet they’ll get a lot of hits on the photo site though, lol.

Afterwards
I see Rebecca immediately, I need some time to breathe, my friend Jenn comes up and says she saw and am I ok?  At this point, I just feel like a loser.  We take a finishers photo together, then I ask for one solo because god, the finish line photo is going to suck so horribly, maybe I can have one fakeout for the memory books.  It’ll probably look like I’m possessed anyway.

Rebecca gets food, I can’t stomach anything, and I have to sit down so we find a grassy spot to wait for the rest of the gals.  After 20 minutes, I feel nauseous and come close to puking but don’t.  A bit later, I’m feeling like I can eat a bagel so I go get one.  As I get up, Rebecca comments on how sweaty I am, which seems normal to me but then I look around and compared to everyone else, it is pretty excessive.

Finally the girls are gathered (great job to all of you!!) and we’re standing around, Loren comments on my goosebumps which I wave away, figuring it’s just from being all sweaty but I guess it was weird since we were in full hot sun at that point.  A few minutes later (this is probably 45 minutes after I’ve been done) Rebecca says “your lips are blue” then everyone else nods and says , “yeah, they’re really blue”.  OK, this is beginning to scare the crap out of me. But physically, I’m not feeling bad anymore.

What Do I Think About This
Well, I think it’s shit.  I think I’m afraid of myself.  I think all my Facebook pals suggesting I go to a doctor is a smart decision and I will call tomorrow. Though when I was in the hospital in June they gave me an EKG and x-rays and other fancy things before announcing me incredibly healthy.

But if you really want to know what I think, I think I did it to myself.  I think it’s my own fucking ego again running too hard, that I don’t have a “red danger zone” button or if I have it, I’m not able to see when it’s flashing until it’s too late.   I honestly don’t think it was dehydration this time.  OK, so I didn’t get giant gulps of water but I did get it at enough places that it had to have been enough.

And yes folks, it was warm but if you’ve gone through this at 83 degrees as I did with the 5K (and running much harder, mind you) 70 is nothing, plus I’ve been doing all my tempos and intervals in warmer weather than this.

So I feel like an utter wuss as a racer and at the same time too strong/stubborn for my own good.  I guess it’s the same way I’m an extremely introverted extrovert.  Life throws those weird combinations of tricks to confuse you, I guess.

The Finish Time
1:36:13.  The time means nothing to me, I don’t care about it one bit, it doesn’t make me sad or unhappy, it just is.  It was the “incident”, the weakness that troubles me so much.  It’s making me really scared to race – do I have to take everything easy from now on?  What kind of racing is that?

I stopped crying btw, soon after I wrote that I started, so you know, I’ll get through this.  It’s just one more interesting race report.  Hah!  Like I need another one of these ridiculous things.

I had a problem out there.  Around mile 12 or 13 (have to go over splits to see when), I lost control of my legs, just as I did in the last 5K that sent me to the hospital.  I stumbled and someone helped me up.  I walked some that last 1/2 mile and someone helped me across the finish line.

I felt like barfing about 20 minutes afterwards.  Rebecca mentioned how covered I was in sweat, Loren mentioned that I had goosebumps and as we left, everyone noticed that my lips were blue.  I felt ok at that point, despite the lips and goosebumps.  So I’m not sure what’s going on.  I felt that I got enough water in at the stops.

So anyway, my time was 1:36:13.  Most of that happened at the end.  Will go into detail later when I’m on my own again (got the girlies here right now).  My finish photo is going to be insanely humiliating.  This shit is getting old.