Can’t take it!

Finding it hard to work even 12 hours a day, and there’s so much to do!

Haven’t mopped the floor in so long, I don’t remember what clean looks like!

Tired of not being able to do my best in anything because getting it *done* is all I can manage!

I’ve maybe gone bananas!

BUT! I did run 12 K this morning! (and I ROCKED IT, as an aside! Wooo-ee! It was slow, to be sure, but I was in the front group, and the last 5 just kept getting easier… I think I have some distance work in my future!)

Still… feel like I’m losin’ it!

And yet:

When the weight of the world crushes, when I’ve done everything I can but feel like it’s enough… that’s when I pull out the big guns:

bathtub meditation (thank you, lovely and talented Graham, for the Epsom salts!) and a little home-made PB cup for one.

And with that, tomorrow will be better… if for no other reason than the fact that it’s one sleep closer to Friday, when I’m going to Calgary, and thereafter will end the era of the crappy iPhone photo images.

Yay. And blarg.

How do you come down when you’re overwhelmed? And: Is it better to be OVERwhelmed or UNDERwhelmed, as a general rule?

Man! Time flies when you’re keepin’ on, eh? (image source)

As I got wrapped up in my deadline, then my cold last week, the work I got behind in as a result, and then my day-o’-catering, I knew this post would be at least a day late—I started “5 Weeks to Fine” on a Friday, so it should have ended on a Friday.

And then I did a little simple math, which often manages to confound me in spite of the fact that in 1996, little S began her university career as a Math major at McGill University. Oh, how things have changed.

The simple math revealed that what I thought was the end of 5 weeks was actually the end of 6 weeks. May I chalk it up to daylight savings? Yeah, that sounded lame to me, too. Besides: it’s “Spring forward, Fall back“…

Better late than never, here’s my 5WtF round-up!

I would certainly have to own to not being an overly religious person. I mean no offence to anyone who is, of course, to each, his or her own belief. But after a few less-than-positive brushes with religiosity in high school, I broke from conventional ideas of religion. I also like to believe in myself, so I subscribe to what I would call ‘my own perspective on the universe and the powers that be’.

And I would have to say, in wrapping up 5 Weeks to Fine, that I cannot possibly explain the change any other way than to acknowledge that the powers that be / energy of the universe had to have been involved in this one, because *boy*, are things different.

If pressed, I would admit that the best year of my life was the last of my PhD, when I was 29 / 30. I loved turning 30 (even if my best friend’s sister was a selfish cow and therefore I was deprived of my best friend on that particular day, which hurt my feelings *so* much ), and I felt like I was full of hope for the future and excitement that I would finally start to live, after so many years of putting that off for school. (image source)

Since that year, things have gone from just ungreat to epically tragic, to “I don’t know how I’ll get through today” to “I’m unhappy. I don’t want to be”. So, peaks and valleys.

I love Fall. After my personal new year’s at Labour Day, things always fall into place for me. Like “resolutions”… goals. Whatever.

I love a good goal! Nothing gets me out of bed every day like having something to work towards.

And today, I got up, and put on my favourite old jeans. I haven’t worn them in over a year, because they haven’t fit.

And now, that’s ME! (Perhaps slightly less jaundiced, with hair and a waist…).

What I’m loving as much as my jeans is that somewhere on the road to this goal, it stopped being *about* the goal and became all about the journey.

Reduced in mass? Sure. But more importantly, I’ve lived—had my weekly tequila, (almost) daily chocolate, occasional treats, and never really gone without… which is SO new to me. I’ve succeeded in mass reduction campaigns before—and much faster—but I paid for those ones. This one: I feel like *I* have been on the receiving end, not giving. Not “learning to live with hunger”. Not agonising over “unsanctioned” foods.

Sure, my eating habits improved and I’m smaller than 4 months ago… I’ve also slept! Re-learned to meditate! Drastically reduced my coffee intake! Hit the gym because I *wanted* to, not because I thought I should! Run my first race in over a decade!

Maybe it’s time to raise the bar? Or maybe I’ll just spend a few days being happy… which, if you’d told me a year ago could be possible while I was in the Hinterlands, would have made me laugh.

Happy is worth EVEN more than my favourite jeans.

Part of this comes from the blogosphere, I have to say. Being able to keep up with others’ habits, ways, attempts, expertise, and favourites has given me a lot of examples of how many different ways a healthy lifestyle can be lived. So thanks to all of you for blogging, for having goals, for living well, and for sharing it. What a great community to be part of!

I like it when things are good. Hope they’re good for you, too.

Well.

I guess “brutal” is the word for it.

Let’s start with mileage: yesterday I walked downtown in the morning… (5k) and realised I should pick up my race package, so I headed for the harbour… with a vague sense of where I was going.

Then I remembered that I live in BC. Therefore, I was in my provincial capital. So, this is my legislature. In the beginnings of what would be torrential rain.

Then I headed over to race headquarters, where I picked up this little beauty:

Yay! Race package! I also walked through the expo, where I felt myself getting sucked into a world in which running is god, and there is no other religion… I felt myself getting talked into registering for the Fall Classic Vancouver Marathon (for the 10K, of course—on 21 November), training for the Banff-Jasper relay (4 June 2011), and to do a half at the Vancouver Marathon 2011 (1 May 2011). I bought a cookbook—yay!—and was repeatedly offered promotional foodstuffs that in no way jived with my healthy eating goals. It was really crowded, and really exciting—the last races I ran weren’t “official Boston Marathon qualifiers” but fun runs… and this is SO. MUCH. BETTER!

For example, in my previous runs, the race t-shirts were cotton and one-size-fits-all (as long as “ALL” is defined by XL men, of course), and this time, I got *my size* of a performance fabric with some lovely Haida art!

And then I enjoyed a bit more of Victoria, before a torrential downpour came and sent me scurrying back to the hotel (about 6K walked in and around downtown Vic before the scurry, + the scurry: 5K).

Ooh! Empress!

And then the floatplane action-shot (hm… hard to tell…) with the fog-covered hills in the background…

And a small reminder that, yes, being allergic to fish is like a kiss of death: this oyster resto boasts, “eat fish, live longer. Eat oysters, love longer. Eat clams, last longer.” Dang.

Back at the hotel, I showered for a loooooooong, hot time, and then decided to go eat dinner, which meant a walk back downtown (+5K). I only managed half a veggie wrap with hummus and small salad, because I was already getting nervous. But why be just a little nervous when you can REALLY get anxious?!?

To ensure maximum pre-race anxiety, I had a controversial meeting with a controversial figure. That was a mistake, because after a drink, I walked back to the hotel (+5K), booked my cab for the morning (on recommendations from hotel staff: “don’t try to walk at that hour.” OK!). And then the crap began.

I was getting nauseated because of anxiety—partly from controversy, partly from the race… so I called my favourite friend Patti so she could talk me down for awhile—she has weathered so many of my imagined and real crises, I knew that if anyone had a chance of helping, it would be she!

She did what she could.

I should have meditated. But it was 10.30 and I was anxious about getting enough sleep. First mistake. Or second, if we count inviting controversy.

I tossed and turned ALL. NIGHT. I *maybe* caught an hour of sleep here or there, but on the whole, after a crazy 2 weeks of work… WHY did I have the controversial meeting? WHY?!?

When my alarm went off at 6, I thought, “yep. No surprise there.”

I had a dry mouth. But I couldn’t drink. Second mistake.

I thought “I should eat.” But I couldn’t eat. Third mistake.

Now, in my defence, mistakes 2 and 3 were made because I thought “I could force it, but I think I’d rather be unfueled and dehydrated than post-puke in the run.” So I’m OK with those two…

I met two other racers in the hotel lobby who hadn’t called in advance for a cab, so we shared mine, and off to the race! Heh.

We were early. I found the start. I hadn’t warmed up. It was still dark. It was surprisingly warm (14 degrees at 6.45am!), but I had a chill. I was glad I had layers. Fourth mistake.

I hung back around mid-pack… and the countdown began: 15 minutes, 10 minutes, 5 minutes, and off I went. My first 2 K were fantastic—and I’m usually an outstanding split kind of girl. I was passing lots of people, I was feeling really good, and wondering just a bit if my relatively faster start had anything to do with me training at 676m above sea level, and running at roughly 8m above sea level… or was it the usual rookie mistake of starting too fast?

RIGHT after the 2K sign, the cramps appeared. And I was sweating—uncomfortably hot. I *never* sweat, except in the dead of summer. Oopsie on the layers. As for the cramps, usually I’ll get them at the top of my abs, just under the ribs—I can make them go away with deep breathing. This was low, right above the pubic bone, and I thought “there’s that dehydration… great.” And my speedy start began to give way to a laboured 6K to follow. By the split, I was being passed by about as many as I was passing. What hurt was the octogenarian couple and the man with the prosthetic leg. The lovely and talented Graham, massaging me afterward, said “he was totally cheating. He was half machine!”

And when all was said and done, it was lame: 6.03 average kilometre pace (!!!), for 48.24 total running time—which *was* faster than my predicted 50 minutes, but lame because if I hadn’t been anxious, I could have done better. I was 1,008th overall (damn! If I’d known I would have kicked harder to break the 1,000 mark!), 469 / 1719 for women, 54 / 181 for my division.

So: after walking 26K the day before and running my 8 that morning, I went to see the lovely and talented Graham for some TLC for my calves… but my lower back and left hamstring were complaining, too. That’s NOT the effects of the 8K, it HAD to be the walking the day before, right? I also gave myself shin splints and was instructed to “ice and rest”. OK, sure. Right after I hoof it the 5K back to the hotel, OK?

In truth, I didn’t have fun. Too much extraneous crap for that, frankly. But in yet more truth… I REALLY want to run the 10K in Vancouver next month. We shall see…