OK for a girl

Well, I'm done with the 5K training, at least until my lower body returns to normal. Last night was the run. I did it in 33:35, placing 373rd out of 618 female runners. My overall ranking, if I've done my math correctly, was 841 out of 1186 total runners.

Translation: I did OK..... for a girl.

The run itself didn't *seem* as long as the one I'd done in May. I just didn't think that one would EVER end, but last night, I was surprised to see the finish line as soon as I did. I even had a little energy left to speed up at the end. Go figure.

This was a freakin' MOB compared to my previous race, which only had a little over 300 entrants. There were so many people in this one that I couldn't even run initially. The horn sounded, and I took off at a fast....no, slow....jog.....no....um, make that a walk. People were eager to get going, and I felt the crowd pushing behind me. One woman about 10 feet to my right tripped over a rug in the road that had been placed to cover cables leading to the stage. I saw her land on all fours. I only got a glimpse of her beginning to get upright again before the crowd hid her from view. Geesh, I hope she didn't get hurt.

After a couple minutes, it thinned out enough around me so that I had my own space and could set my own pace, so I started my fabulous Shuffle, which was set to begin with my all-time favorite running song -- the Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Higher Ground." But even their pacing was too slow! Ya gotta love race adrenaline, huh?

So I ran at a faster pace than my first few songs, but not long after that, I was able to fall into my planned stride. Good. I'd designed the playlist to help ensure I wouldn't run out of steam before the end.

There was never a moment during this run that there weren't a lot of people around me. Some people passed me, but some people I passed. More folks stopped to walk than I'd noticed in the other 5K. There were two buff-looking military types ahead of me who were running together at my pace. Why in the world would they be going so slow? Hmmmm. Maybe they were saving themselves to sprint at the end. One sweaty athletic-looking man passed me going uphill, grunting hard and struggling to push his son in a baby carriage. The boy, who looked to be about 3 or 4, kept turning in his seat, laughing as he watched all the runners around him. The kid was obviously in heaven. He caught my eye for a second....was he laughing at me because his dad was kicking my ass, or was he just happy to be in the midst of it all?

I wasn't expecting the traffic jam at the first water station. I wasn't even expecting a water station....I thought maybe someone else had fallen and people were stopping to help. At one point, I admit that I had to walk for a bit. I think it was only 30-45 seconds, though. It was near the apex of a loooonnnnng gently-sloping hill.

I missed the time-shouter-person who must've been at the mile one mark, so I don't know how my time was that first mile, but at mile two, a man shouted "21:10!" as I passed. Cool, better than the other 5K! I concentrated on keeping my strides long and perky. I think that previously, my end-time suffered because my strides grew shorter the longer I ran.

Running that last mile was tough. Humidity was high, so, even though I didn't have any trouble breathing as some of my group buds later said, I was sweating like a ..... hmmmm, a cub scout at Neverland. Ugh. Yuk. I really need to find some sort of small clippable towel that I can attach to myself while running.

I daydreamed about running on the beach, and tried to imagine the sea breezes. It helped that the street lights cast shadows of me as I ran, reminding me of watching my shadow on the sand as I ran with the sun at my back. I lapsed into "I'm-a-machine" mode, and tried to hypnotize myself with the music, my breath, my pace. I must've been breathing like an emphysema patient -- as I approached one man who'd paused to walk with his female run buddy, he turned to look at me over his shoulder. And......offered me his bottled water. Ha!! I smiled at him and declined, laughing to myself after I'd passed. Good lord! What in the world had he seen -- and heard -- coming toward him? Something upon which he obviously took pity.

And y'know what? At the finish line, I forgot to look at the clock! I had no idea how I did until shortly after 2am this morning when the preliminary results were posted on the race website.

And why, you ask, was I awake at 2am? Auuuuuuughhh! My lower body is TORE UP.

I am not a smart woman, y'all. If I were, I'd listen to my chiropractor, my orthopedist, and my own body -- all of which tell me pretty emphatically, "Good freaking holy giant God, woman -- take up another sport! You are not built for this high-impact INSANITY. You are going to permanently hurt yourself."

Instead, I'm thinking about doing the Spinx 5K in October. Just to see how close I can get to 30 minutes.

My justification goes something like this (courtesy of Jack London in Jack London's Tales of Adventure):

I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.

Today, though, I'm going to stifle myself into dry-rothood right in front of my TV, flat on my back with my legs in the air. I'll be a meteor tomorrow.

Finally...pictures!

Well, I finally culled 50 share-worthy scenic shots from the more than 500 I took during last month's trip to Sunset Beach. Not satisfied with the slideshow function at photobucket.com, I decided to try Google's Picasa. It takes less than 3 minutes to view all the photos, and it'll stop automatically at the end. Check it out....

Sometimes I think that I think too much

Awhile back, StumbleUpon took me to an amusing page in which someone had authored "Perfect Day for a Woman" and "Perfect Day for a Man." The pre-7am and post-11pm items in the man list made me laugh out loud, but I just sort of wrinkled my nose at the woman list.

Of course I was immediately inspired to consider my own perfect day! The early morning hours came pretty easily to me, but once I got myself dressed in my happy little daydream, I couldn't narrow down my activities to all-time favorites. Should I incorporate time travel and visits to an alternate universe so that I could get everything in? Should I include the porn? Should I assume a given mood or situation or reality? And how can I say that the morning I'd already imagined would be THE perfect morning? Other types of mornings could be blissful, too. Especially ones in which world peace would be involved.

The possibilities created a dizzying, surreal loop in my brain. Too many decisions! Too much pressure! I couldn't decide where to take it, so the post languished on my hard drive.

It languished, that is, until I ran across it again this evening. With a fresh, just-get-it-done perspective and a minor tweak or two, I got it ready to publish. Yeah, yeah, I know it leaves you hanging at 9:32am. Sorry 'bout that. But what's important here is that I've now freed myself from pondering perfection -- ultimately a waste of time, anyway.

A Perfect Morning

6:30 Awaken to a soft breeze coming through my bedroom window. The gentle wind, silk sheets, and meditative sounds of ocean waves (yep, I live on the beach) hug me with a bubbly happiness. It's a vaguely cool springtime morning, and birds cheerily sing in the distance. My concert-pianist neighbor is obviously home from his whirlwind European tour, because "Fur Elise" teases my eardrums in a pleasingly calm sort of way.
6:31 What's that I hear? Is it *quiet* beneath the piano melody? Yes, it is! Joy! The ringing in my ears has stopped. I bask.
6:40 Sweet mankitties Ozzy and Blue jump on the bed for some quality cuddle time.
6:58 Roll out of bed to discover I'm sore from my strength training workout two days ago. Ahhhh, every move reminds me that I'm alive and healthy! I slip on a robe, gaze around the room, and....wow, the bedroom-cleaning fairy visited during the night. I am amazed at how quiet he'd been.
6:59 Look out the window to witness something hilarious. Perhaps a squirrel is doing something odd with a nut. I laugh heartily.
7:00 Stroll downstairs where I discover that the bedroom-cleaning fairy's cousins, the pet-hair-sucking gremlin and kitchen-scouring troll, had also visited during the night. They must've just left, because there's a fresh pot of coffee brewing. It smells so good!
7:05 Settle on my pristine blue couch in my pristine den next to yet another breezy, sunlit, open window. There's a cup of coffee in my hand, my Powerbook is on my lap, and Ozzy and Blue snuggle beside me.
7:06 Surf mindlessly.
7:16 Discover that Apple has introduced another innovative product, propelling the value of its stock into the stratosphere.
7:17 Confirm with my stock broker that he did, indeed, purchase those 10,000 shares of Apple stock for me last week.
7:18 Venture off couch for a second cup of coffee. Eat a light, healthy, yummy breakfast....perhaps slices of honey crisp apple dipped in toffee-cheesecake-flavored yogurt. And an Asian pear so juicy that it dribbles down my chin.
7:25 Continue surfing mindlessly.
7:35 iPhone rings, and it's my mom. She's feeling great today, and is excited that she has plans with her friends and my sister. All is happy and blissful back home. We chat for a bit.
7:55 Head back upstairs, throw on shorts and a t-shirt, and attach my Shuffle to appropriate body parts.
8:00 Run on the beach, alternating exhilarating sprints with slow, easy jogs. I see no other humans, so the beach belongs only to me!
8:45 Endorphins, yeah!!!
9:15 Hydratherapy. Some people call this a 'shower'.
9:30 Catch a glimpse in the mirror of something in my upper arms NOT jiggling....cool, those triceps kickbacks have finally paid off.
9:32 Pull on jeans and a sleeveless top. I'm energized and ready for anything, baby!

A sweet, romantic video

You know, I try not to get lazy with my posts, but it does sometimes happen. You may think this is one of the lazy ones, too, BUT....nooooooo. This YouTube video is just so perfect. One of my favorite songs + one of my favorite classic TV shows = a magicalmonkey MUST!

According to the friend who showed it to me, I'm the last person on earth to have seen it.

Neverdone #6 :: A breath of fresh air, artificially generated

While kickin' around downtown Greenville today, a friend and I noticed a new store called Healthy Lounge. We strolled in to check out the place.....it had a minimalistic, contemporary vibe, happy and peaceful. They had a few products along one wall, but it turned out that their main business is "rapid recharge" -- stress-relieving services which include high-tech lounge chair massages, foot baths, and oxygen therapy.

Ahhhhh, an opportunity for a neverdone, I thought to myself. What joy! I can pay these folks some money to breathe their fancy air.

A hip young dude led us to a corner where an end-table-sized machine awaited. He dialed in our aromatherapy choices -- I chose mint rosemary and my friend chose orange peppermint -- and left us to hang out in their comfy chairs and chat whilst wearing colorful oxygen tubes hooked around our ears and shoved up our noses.

Sexy, huh? Yeah, yeah....I felt a little silly. But that's not an unusual feeling for me, so I leaned back and embraced it.

I don't know if it really DID anything. Maybe it did. I think it did. At least now I can say I've been to an oxygen bar.....it'll make me seem really groovy and sophisticated to people who think trendy therapies are groovy and sophisticated.

I think I'll go back to experience one of their superduper shiatsu chair machines. One of them will do your ass. I asked.

Neverdone #5 :: Extra pretty toes

Almost every single time, I get the same reaction. When I tell a girlfriend -- or any female acquaintance, for that matter -- that I have never had a pedicure, she will throw back her head, roll her eyes toward the heavens, and exclaim, "Ohhhhhhhhhh my GOD! You HAVE to get one! It is the BEST THING EVERRRR!!"

So I decide on my beach trip to make an appointment at a day spa, and I punctuate the package with a fun little treat for my toes. My reaction to the pedicure?

Eh.

Oh well. I suppose not every neverdone can have an ecstatic outcome. Yeah, the accompanying foot/calf massage was pleasurable in an anticlimactic sort of way, and my toe cuticles are now in primo condition. It makes my tired, deserving feet feel pampered and really pretty, and the super-spa-quality polish will probably last a long time. But, from an aesthetic point of view, it's not a much better job than I could have done myself. I doubt I'd pay for another one.

Don't get me wrong.....I'm glad I did it! I had a multi-fabulous 2-3 hours at a place which made me feel like a princess. It was cool to go from soothing-back-room to soothing-back-room wearing one of their soft, comfy robes, carrying a cup-and-saucer dose of lemon-ginger green tea. Later, when I asked for some water, they brought it to me in a champagne glass. Melinda herself (the place, located in North Myrtle Beach, was named Melinda's Day Spa) did my pedicure, and she was a fun, interesting person. I never got the courage to ask her about the dainty gold pendant hanging from her neck -- it featured a naked couple, embracing while facing each other on their knees. Sort of like this but without the pentagram design in the back. Was it a symbol that she's into....something unconventional? Maybe just a loving gift from her husband? Or a subtle suggestion that they may have other services besides those on the published list? Hmmmmmmm. I tried not to stare at it.

Anyway.......

Did you catch the 'anticlimactic' part a couple paragraphs ago? Don't think this post will be without a fun story. Let me tell you about the massage I had beforehand.

I signed up for an 80-minute full body integrated massage. Upon your arrival, you'd have a conversation with your therapist about your aches, pains, and goals for the time, and that person would decide which special techniques, if any, would need to be integrated. My appointment was with a dude named -- um, let's call him Tony. He sort of looked like a Tony.

When I first started getting massages back in the mid 90s, I said I'd never go to a male therapist. It would be too weird. But every so often I wouldn't have a choice because of schedules and availability, and I eventually discovered that, in general, I liked the men better. I don't know if women just don't have the upper body strength or if they are just afraid to employ heavy, therapeutic pressure, but rarely do they get in there and... ahem, satisfy me. Maybe I just haven't found the right woman. Or maybe I'm masochistic, and men are more willing to slip into the accompanying sadistic role. Ha!

So I wasn't too nervous about Tony. I would've been more comfortable if he'd been unthreateningly gay, but I suppose I can't always have everything I want. He was very professional and went to great lengths to ensure that I felt a high level of trust and comfort.

"Now, I don't want you to give me one of those girly massages," I laughed as we exchanged pleasantries in the lobby. "I want therapeutic, not relaxing."

What I wanted to say, which I think would have been a little clearer: Do it hard. Use every muscle you have to do it hard, and I mean HARD. Do it so hard that you will need a massage after you're done with me. And go deep, buddy. Go deep, all the way to freakin' China. Don't let a tiny ligament stop you. Get in between whatever you need to. Just GO DEEP. Hard and deep, baby, hard and deep. Do you understand? HARD and DEEP.

But that would've been awkward. I hoped my 'therapeutic' comment would suffice.

"Let me tell you what I need," I began, as we headed toward the back. "You know that neck problem you get where you can't turn your head? I'm beginning to get over that, but would like some help working the rest of it out."

"No problem, I'll fix you right up," he said, as we entered a little room filled with ocean waves, classical music, and soothing scents.

"But, way more important than my neck is to loosen my lower body. I've been trying," I chuckled, "to become a runner, and my lower body is feeling abused and tight, tight, tight. The worst parts are my hamstrings, IT band, lower back, and hips."

"You'll walk out of here feeling like a new woman," he assured me as he slipped out so I could undress and get under the crisp sheet and fuzzy, light blanket.

He started with my calves and worked his way up, one leg at a time. Just as I suspected, when he got to the backs and sides of my legs, he found knots. Still trying to find a delicate way to convey the amount of pressure I wanted -- and of course the word 'pressure' never occurred to me during the whole 80 minutes -- I said, "you can go harder if you need to."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. I'll holler if you do, but, trust me, you won't."

He chuckled. "Well, just don't yell too loud. My boss will wonder what's going on in here."

"Well, you won't hurt me, I promise."

So he went deeper into my hamstring, and it felt gooooooooooood.

What I wanted to say: Ohhhhhhhhhhh, yeeeeeeeeaahhhhh! Oh my god, that feels sooooooo gooooooooooood. Go harder. Deeper. Don't stop. Whatever you do, don't stop. Goooooooooood LORD, that's wonderful.

"That's the spot," I said, "and it feels awesome."

"Good."

So, after a glorious 15 minutes or so, he abandoned my legs and hesitated. "I have to ask," he said. "We have rules. Do you mind if I lift the sheet to reach.... ?"

He meant my ass, but stopped short of the end of his sentence. If I'd known him better, I would've said: Good lord, of course you can lift the sheet. Get on with it. You're wasting time.

"Nope, I don't mind."

So he folded back one side of the sheet and got to work. And I am here to tell you, my friends, that NOTHING feels better than an ass massage when your glutes are tight and knotted, and the area deep inside your hips is sore and out of whack. A couple of times he acted as if he would stop and move on to the next body part, but I wouldn't let him, asking him to move up or down or deeper...anything to ensure he wouldn't stop.

"I can feel I'm breaking up a lot of knots," he said. "Are you beginning to feel better?"

"Oh, yes, you were right -- when I leave, I'll leave brand new and feeling great."

I kept asking him to press harder. And harder. Finally, I guess I convinced him he could do his maximum, because he stopped those annoying I-don't-want-to-hurt-you comments, and even let out a grunt or two.

When he happened upon the spot in my lower back/hip that my chiropractor's been working on......ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! This time, I couldn't help it. I actually said what was on my mind.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" I wasn't as eloquent as I would've been a few minutes earlier. He must've massaged my brains out.

He laughed. "That feels good, does it?"

"Yeeeeeesssssss."

"You should get your husband or boyfriend -- or both -- to massage this area for you every day."

"Hmmm. Yeah. I'll see what I can do about that."

Eventually, sadly, regrettably, he told me that we only had 10 minutes left. Wow, he must've spent more than half of our allotted time on just my ass! He did a quick job on my back (I mean he massaged my back, for those of you whose dirty little minds produced a different sort of picture) before moving, finally, to my neck and shoulders.

"You should see another massage therapist when you go back home," he advised. "Your neck is full of knots, too, and we don't have enough time to work them out today."

His finale was a scalp massage which felt tingly and nice, but -- oh my goodness -- it was just no comparison to the afternoon's ass crescendo.

That's why the ensuing pedicure was anticlimactic.

Neverdone #4 :: Running on the beach

I imagined I'd post a few times during my weeklong visit to Sunset Beach, but ya know.....there always seemed to be something a little better to do. :) Right now I'm sitting at a cute little bagel shop on my way out of town, and I don't want to leave. It'll be good to get home for a lot of reasons, but I don't want to leave!

I scored a couple neverdones this week....I'll go ahead and tell you about the first one.

Official neverdone status
I have a text document in a tiny little corner of my hard drive entitled "Lame Neverdones." In it I've been saving a list of things I've never done, but which don't seem significant enough to rate official neverdone status. It'll eventually be a post, so you guys will be able to read them all. At the beginning of this week, I'd added "running on the beach" to this list.

I mean, enough about running already....right? You guys have GOT to be tired of reading about it. I know you rolled your eyes when you read the post title. Don't deny it.

BUT during my second-ever beach run -- on Monday, my second full day at Sunset Beach -- I decided it was so beautiful, so enjoyable, so wonderful that it deserves a place of honor on mm. You see, my recent obsession with exercise is all about that feeling I get afterward -- the kicky endorphins, the ohhhhh-so-gooooood physical exhaustion. While I'm running, there's an occasional "I'm-a-machine" moment which feels good, but mostly I'm just sweating and gasping and praying that there'll be an anomalous time warp so that 30 minutes will seem like one.

I realized on Monday, though, that I was actually enjoying the run itself. What a bejesus-inducing surprise!

A little history
Before this past year, the only time in my life that I actually enjoyed running was during recess in grade school. I accidentally discovered that I was pretty fast one day when an obnoxious, grubby little boy named Robert chased me across a field with a wet, ugly toad wriggling in his fat, dirty fingers. I left him in my proverbial dust. After that -- left mostly to our own devices with an old, deserted baseball field in our play area -- I'd convince a few young classmates to run impromptu races. I usually won....but only if we were racing to the dugout. If the distance were any shorter, I wouldn't have enough time to make up for my slow start. Any further, and I'd run out of steam before the end. I loved to go fast!!

In ensuing years, though, I forgot that I enjoyed running. More than that -- I learned to hate it. In high school when I was on the basketball team, our running mostly consisted of those evil wind sprints that hold your lungs hostage, and you were NOT allowed to quit in order to catch your breath. Then there were those days when you had to run five laps every time you missed a basket. Then occasionally we had to do twenty laps around the gym right after practice. No reason, really. Just because.

After I graduated from high school and stopped playing team sports, I never thought about running again.....until last year when I was looking for efficient ways to burn fat.

Back to 2008
Anyway.....back to Monday when I actually enjoyed myself.

It wasn't the obligatory C25K workout. I'd done 30 minutes, per the program, the day before with one of my beach buds. On Monday, I decided to just get out there alone and do whatever I felt like doing, my happy little Shuffle clipped to my tank top. I wound up playing a heart rate game -- first slow and easy, then speed up to a medium pace, then slow and easy, then sprint, then slow and easy again. Etcetera. It was fun, fun! The view was extraordinary, the breeze ensured I never dripped with sweat, and I felt like a member of an elite club as I smiled and waved to the occasional fellow runner. And the cute little gray birds -- sandpipers, maybe? -- made me laugh. They chased the tide in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out, with tiny, superquick, determined legs, pecking at yummy bird-candy morsels in the shallow water.

As I neared Bird Island on the south end of the beach, the people became so scarce that it was easy to pretend there was no one else in the world. What a feeling! I decided to climb over the rocks at the end, and it was even MORE beautiful. Ahhhhhhhh! I went back with my camera the following day, but I don't think I did the place justice. I'll post more pictures later, but, for now, check out the photo above. That free-and-happy dude is approaching the tip of Bird Island.

I ran almost every day this week. Yesterday, I think, was better than Monday. I didn't mess around with medium paces at all. I'd walk, then sprint....walk, sprint....walk, sprint...walk, sprint... I love to go fast!!

Bliss. We all should follow it. :)

Guess I should hit the road home now.....

Sigh.