Brits are Sick Puppies

A friend of mine recently wrote to me:


"So how's the marathon training going? I see you have indeed added an
entry to the blog. Its still pretty poor though. If you want
sponsorship, then your audience needs more gruesome detail on the pain
and personal torture front. I want graphic descriptions of your burning
lungs, scorched throat, etc, etc. Even when being charitable, one likes
to get value for one's buck."


So I dedicate this post to Paul.


Hill (note the singular) Workout number two was quite similar to number one in its excruciating nature. For some reason, I decided that, having completed three miles the week before, I would venture into my fourth mile of hilly goodness. About six strides into my fourth mile, I was not too sure whose swift idea it was to be so brave. My calves were harder than diamonds (and profoundly less valuable on the open market), my lungs were searing, and my left shoulder had decided that it might be fun to simulate the pain that would be caused if a knife were being jabbed into and twisted around in the ball and socket joint just under my shoulder blade. Still, I soldiered on.


The great thing about preparing for a marathon with Team in Training is that I have the opportunity to talk to people for long periods of time (when I am not being grouchy and antisocial while running "Go TEAM!" "grrrrr...."). This is an excellent distraction, except when your running mate has taken it upon himself to expound to you all of the inconsistencies of his dog's bowels, and the complicated process of getting it out of his rug (could I have the stabbing shoulder thing back, please?) This Monday, however, I got to know Eydie, the daughter of a Jewish LAPD police officer, and a pretty interesting girl. We compared the intricacies of a yours-mine-and-ours kinds of family and, before I knew it, the last mile of hill (still singular) was gone. It was, as they say, all downhill from there.


So, my dear Paul (and all of you other terribly repressed, yet brilliantly sadistic readers out there), I am afraid that I must disappoint you for now. Every run leaves me feeling more confident with my abilities and my chances of accomplishing this goal grow stronger every day. My muscles hurt less after workouts (though, I must admit, I broke up with Master Wilson. No more 5000 crunches for Jen), my breathing is evening out, and I am becoming a running rock-star! Maybe after the holidays, when I will probably not have run as much as I should due to cold temperatures (which to a San Diegan is anything under 50). Maybe after I have gained ten pounds from home cooked Southern goodness, will the wailing and gnashing of teeth commence. Maybe...


You'll just have to wait and see.



Happy holidays, y'all.

Our photographer was dissatisfied with the first picture, but Stacey was so sweaty I refused to get that cozy again. 

Stacey (my mentor) and I after a 7 mile run around UCSD last Saturday 

Day ??? A Slight Grammatical Slip

So the difference between singular and plural words seems like a minimal thing in the abstract. There is, however, a distinct difference when your coach tells you to run a "hills" workout and when he sends you on a "hill" workout. Hills, to me, implies that there is a periodic downhill grade which would allow one to recover for a brief moment before trudging upward again. This was not the case last Monday. Last Monday, I ran uphill for two miles, climbing one of the steepest areas in San Diego, Mount Soledad.


The good thing about Team in Training is that you really never have to run alone. There are always options for group activities, such as my enemy, this hill run. Had I attempted this course alone, I would have turned around about 40 strides into my workout, but, thanks to my teammates, I soldiered on.


They tell me that it will get easier.


I will let you know.

Day 31- I am a Bad Blogger

But not a bad trainee. Fret not, fearless readers, running has been occurring (even some by me). I have just been lazy about writing about it. It all started when I was in the Bay Area for Thanksgiving. I realized then that I am spoiled spoiled spoiled down here in sunny San Diego. The weather was beautiful for the week that I was there, but it was still cooler than my usual run temperature. They also have these pesky obstacles that they call rolling hills. I call them Satan's children.


I had not had to run on hills before Thanksgiving. Well, to be honest, I had intentionally altered my course so as to run perpindicular to the hills around my neighborhood. Had I tried to do that in Tomales, I would have spent some serious time hurdling sheep, which is less fun that running up hills (though probably makes for a more entertaining mental picture). So, to make a short story long, I was not a happy little runner during that week. But I came home and continued my training. I ran 11 miles over 2 days this weekend past. Saturday's run was 6 miles, more than I have ever run at one time before in my life, but you know what? Never in that six miles did I think I was going to die, nor did I need to stop running. I felt pretty darn cool after that. I am almost 1/4th of the way to a marathon!


Fundraising is starting to take off as well. Three people have already contributed, and I am working on a couple of ideas to raise some bigger donations from companies (if any of you have any ideas, please pass them along), and I have a couple of events in mind that I would like to organize, so we shall see.


Tonight I head to one of the hilliest parts of San Diego to work on (my favorite) a hill routine. I am certain to have more whining and misadventure to pass along at my next posting. Until then, remember me every time you sit in front of a t.v., because I will not be participating in couch potato activities for a few months more, and donate to the cause when you can. Leukemia and lymphoma affect everyone eventually in some degree or another, let's keep up the research and find a cure! Thanks for everything!



Jen

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Leukemia Fact

Five-year survival rate: For children, 80 percent; for adults, 42 percent. During the past 20 years, leukemia death rates have dropped 5.1 percent, largely because of the strides made in treatment.