More on that later.

Dear Diary,

This week I decided I wasn't hydrating enough. As in, I go all day barely drinking anything. To get me back into the habit of drinking regularly, I've started drinking diet soda and flavored water to make me more likely to drink.

Cheaper than coffee.

But do you think the doctors where I work appreciate that? Noooooo. Yesterday, I walked into rounds and plopped this into the middle of the table:

 

 

 

Shrieking and hysterics ensued.

What is THAT? What's in there? What are you drinking?

Before I continue with my story it behooves me to introduce new characters: Dr. Zen and Dr. Drama.

Both are MDs, hence the unsolicited advice on my 64-ounce morning repast. Both are board certified specialists, which is why they work with me on the children's psychiatric unit.

Dr. Zen has been a child psychiatrist for decades, He's often pretty mellow, though he is not without some occasional flights of fancy. He does a lot of thinking, often for so long that he needs reminding, "we'll know what you're thinking when it's in the chart. Please put it in the chart." He haaaaates technology and is quite put out and offended by its intrusion into his life. I can't communicate with him by any other means than telephone. But when he does write his reports they are quite an entertaining read. They are a lengthy narrative containing every detail one could need on the life of a child in our unit. He teaches all the kids breathing and meditation, and spends hours with families in person or on the phone. He is much more interested in getting kids services and therapy than most. He looks a little like John Denver.

Dr. Drama really, really wants to be mellow, but he's prone to exageration and some catastrophising. He gets a bit dramatic at times, e.g., "can you call [dr. X] in [town]? I can't speak to him! He makes my ears bleed!" This said with much emphasis and some flailing, and then perhaps anecdotes. Note: Dr. Drama hates, for the record, the nickname Dr. Drama, so shhhhhh. His reports are tight, structured, clear, rarely contain adverbs but use words and phrases that frankly, I think are overly complicated. "... hit his head on the wall, causing epitaxis." (Nosebleed). Or, "several self-inflicted cuts on her left lateral iliac crest" (hip). Dr. Drama likes technology. It's not unusual to get a text from him: pls find play thrpst for 12 y.o. Fem. that takes BCBS. (Please find me a play therapist for a 12 year old girl that takes Blue Cross insurance) perhaps at 7 on a Saturday night, for his clinic patients, which is not part of my duties. And then i do, and he buys me chocolate. It's a system that's working well.

ANYway, I figured that for the morning I'd better come clean and get all the recriminations out of the way. Like ripping off a bandaid.

"What I have here, gentlemen, is Diet Mountain Dew, and a little fruit punch. I'm trying to hydrate more. And some ice," I added.

The furor that followed surprised even me. I sipped my half gallon of caffeinated goodness calmly, while they freaked out.

Apparently, not fans of diet soda. They told me I'm killing myself slowly with my 64 ounces of poison in a cup. It might as well be antifreeze. I'm messing with neuroreceptors in my brain! Why can't I just drink water? With a little LEMON? Oh, THE HUMANITY! MOUNTAIN DEW IS PEOPLE!! PEEEEOPPLLLLLLLL!!!

 

The lecture and arguing over my choice of breakfast beverages lasted about twenty minutes, and then it was over. I promise to try drinking some plain water, can we get on to talking about patients please?

For the record, I am the lead social worker and therapist for a 12-bed inpatient children's unit (soon to be 16 beds, More on that later.) at a local hospital. I've spent much of the past 3-4 months months while Sweet Baboo has been at various army trainings (More on that later.) reading and studying and attending workshops honing skills in the area of CBT play therapy. I use sandtray for now, mainly.

Behold my collection:

And yes, it is fun collectiong them. I frequently find myself reluctant to let anyone, much less a child, play with a new miniature I've bought. But then. I get over myself.

Last Sunday, I did an Olympic tri, the first triathlon I've done in several years. Ugh. It was fun. Sorta. But kinda hard. I have serious reservations about the upcoming. Ironman Boulder. More on that later.

 

Posted with Blogsy

Besides food, I will also run for pottery.

Note: photography on the Acoma Reservation is forbidden, so the pictures of the landscape here are taken off the Internet.

Dear Diary,

Baboo and I left home on Memorial day at five am, headed for the annual Acoma Seed run. This 8 mile run is held at the Acoma pueblo each year, which is about 16 miles off I40 in some of the most breathtaking scenery you can imagine. As you come over a rise and into the valley near Sky City, you see this:

It's enthusiastically raced by both local tribal members as well runner peeps from Albuquerque. Now, as I'm fond of saying, you can rarely throw a stick in most of New Mexico without it landing on a breathtaking view, so why do they come out 75 miles where there's no cell phone to run 8 miles? Well, first because it's cool: you get to through lands where outsiders are rarely allowed, and second, the age group awards are hand-made Acoma pottery.

The race is informal, timed by yelling "go" and then collecting race bib tags and putting them in order on a board.

I spend much of the pre-race shivering and looking around furtively to try to guess who was in my age group and marveling at the rock formations. The area where the start and finish line looked like this:

See this big sand dune?  Hold this image in your head for a bit.

At the top, Sky City, which has been inhabited continuously since 600 A.D.

Readyyyyyy?  GO!

Mile one a started with a downhill-flattish run that rapidly turned ugly as we turned into about a half mile of deep, soft, fine, sand. Because you know, if you're running a steep uphill, there's nothing better than

Deep, Soft, Fine, Sand. 

After much experimenting, I figured out that hopping up the hill on the balls of my feet worked well for me.
You get to the top and run across an old wooden bridge through a narrow slot in the sandstone, imagining this as the last stronghold holding off the Spaniards, specifically Don Juan Onate, right before he started cutting off the feet of Native Americans as punishment for their rebellion but for some reason there is a town, schools, and statues in honor of this madman.  One of the statues' feet were cut off soon after its dedication, as well it should be, at least.

Anyway.

So then you head down a hill through (say it with me now)

Deep, Soft, Fine Sand. 

End of mile 1.

In mile two, headed down the hill o' sand, I fell in behind a woman as we headed down into a shallow arroyo, and--wait, what? Too late: I tried to leap over a large tangle of piñon and chollo, landing on the other side on a slightly smaller tangle of piñon and chollo branches, rolling over a few times until I wound up on my back, in the arroyo, my legs tangled in branches. I got up, brushed myself off, climbed out of the arroyo, and tried to catch up with the women I had passed on my way down. Most of them turned left at the jeep road and headed for the three mile finish, while I turned right and headed into four or so miles of jeep road covered mostly with large, unexpected patches of

Deep, Soft, Fine, Sand.

The road was described to me as boring, but I disagreed, I found myself headed towards this:

Mesa Enchantida (Enchanted Mesa)

By mile 3, I could feel a pillow of soft, fine sand had built up in the toe of each shoe. It wasn't painful but was an odd sensation having this soft bump under the ball of each foot, like I imagine the sketched shape-ups might feel. I did not feel like I was getting toned, but as I told one guy at one of the many water stations, "I'm going to have to empty my shoes so that I don't violate any tribal laws by taking parts of the rez away."

About mile three or four, I passed a guy who immediately sped up as I passed him, and I was like, really? He ran alongside me for a while, and then I hit a patch of solid jeep road, got some traction, and was able to take off.  For a while. These patches of firm road were greatly sought but well-hidden.

You know, there is nothing that makes me feel slow, fat, and old like

Deep, Soft, Fine, Sand.

I turned onto the road about mile 5.5, and headed into a stiff headwind. It was both cooling and hampering. The last of the 8.3 mile run is uphill. When I finished, there was a Sweet Baboo, (by the way, I'm happy to announce that my iPad now automatically suggests "Baboo"' and even capitalizes it), burritos, fruit and water.

Luckily, despite the bricks tied to my feet, and losing the fight with the branches in a dry river bed, there were only two women in my age group, so I won an award:

When you accept your award, you shake the hand of all the tribal elders.

Lots of the peeps won awards today.

Sweet Baboo, 3rd in his age group, won a pottery medallion.

1st place winners, like friend Ken Gordon, win large pots.  Ken suggested this

 run, and is going to let us know about more like them.  

Closeup of my award, as we are leaving - you can see Enchanted Mesa in the background.

 Will I come back next year and suffer through

Deep, Soft, Fine, Sand?

Oh, you bet I will.

...

Marathons #3 and #4: Race reports

We flew into Chicago Friday morning, grabbed our rental car, and headed for Kenosha.


Marathon #3: The Wisconsin Marathon
in Brief: Pretty, Flat, Overcast and COOL.
Notable features: After the finish, Bratwurst and Polka Rock,.

I forgot my iPod shuffle, but used my iTouch and it worked fine. I also forgot gels, but the night before the race I dashed across the highway to Dicks sporting goods - and here is what is horrible about Big Box stores: When I walked in the greeter asked me what I needed, and I said "Gu" and he did not know what that was.
I said "Sports gel".  Nope.
I said, "Energy gel" and he pointed me towards all the energy foods, where I found some Roctane.  I love this stuff.  Lots of electrolytes, a bit of caffeine.  I "Galloway"ed this one, running 5 minutes and walking 1 minute.  I felt strong on this race, but had a moment of panic at mile 15-ish, when I started feeling my IT band.  It murmured at me for a while, and then inexplicably, the feeling disappeared.  There were a few uphills, but they were mild.  Lots of concrete, and part of the course went onto a gravel road.
Unbelievably, I blew away my old PR (that I got last week in Nashville) with a finishing time of  4:47 and and...
there was nobody there at the finish. Nobody I knew, anyway.

I wondered around for a bit for 30 minutes, and then Himself came walking toward me - he'd gone and gotten the car and moved it closer and never expected me to finish that fast.  And why would he?  *I* never expected to finish that fast.
We stopped at Popeyes at my request, and I changed in the bathroom,, scarfed down some chicken, and then jumped in the car and headed for Kalamazoo.  We arrived early enough to relax for most of the evening and get a good night's sleep.  We ate at a local Italian chain.

Marathon #4: Kalamzoo Marathon
in Brief: REALLY Pretty, Hilly, Sun skies, Mostly cool.
Notable features: I never found the meal I had the ticket to.  But it didn't matter.  I just wanted to lie down and cry when I was done.

Arriving in Kalamazoo, much like the Wisconsin marathon, the packet pickup was small and low-key.  I checked in at the 50-state challenge table, where they took my picture holding a placard that said "New Mexico."  They gave me my free New Balance 890s for being the first person from NM to sign up.
I "Galloway"ed this one also, running 4 minutes and walking 2.  I were a tired puppy.  But I'm telling you, when use the Galloway method, your legs are fresher toward the end when everyone else is fading.  But boy, my feet hurt. I was not expecting this to be hilly, but it was.  However, at mile 15, I got my feet under me with a long, mile-long downhill.  Most of this course was shady.

Lots of friendly locals, and trees covered with huge pink flowers that looked kinda like huge pink gardenias, but no leaves, just entire trees covered with huge waxy blossoms.  Can anyone tell me what these are?
Oooo, my feet hurt.  I had more Roctane Gels for this.  They are hideously expensive .

Finishing time: 5:17, I think.  After this one, I felt a lot like I did after my very first marathon.  My feet hurt.  My quads hurt. I was a little unsteady when I finished . I went straight back to the hotel and lay in tepid water for a while, and then cleaned up and napped on and off most of the afternoon.  In the evening, we went to a Mongolian Barbecue, where I had some veggies, meat, and a bit of brown rice. Time to start eating clean again.

So what did I learn from this?

• First, who would have thought a slow old lazy woman like me would pull off a sub-five marathon the week after running two others?  
• Second, running at sea level ROCKS.  All that oxygen.  It's awesome.
• Third, I married a stud.  His times on his four marathons were 3:44, 3:42, 3:41, and 3:42.  And he still had enough energy to chase me around a hotel room.
• Fourth, for me, the Galloway method works.  It works well.  

Next up: Jemez 50K trail race.  I DNF'd this one last year; my goal this year is just to finish.

...

Eventually, if you wade through enough of it, you stop noticing the smell. (Thursday 13, the early edition)

Dear Diary,

13.  I mentioned last week that I had been in school continuously for 20 years, and a couple people commented to me on it. Yes, it's true.  I am that pathetic.  But part of the cure is admitting you have a problem, and I do: I am addicted to finisher's prizes.  At least now they are less expensive and help get rid of stress instead of causing it.
Meanwhile,

I can feel myself wearing down, and just in time, too.  I'm actually doing better than last year, when I was worn down by February.  I'm tired, depressed, anxious, and having bad dreams that involve rejection and abandonment.  I am, finally, and predictably, getting Too Old For This Shit.

I know it's just the whole grad school thing. I know it, but I can't feel it.  I just want to lay on a couch all day and do nothing.  I don't want to go anywhere, run, or write a paper, or make a phone call, or clean, or arrange.  Just lay.  And maybe drink cool, icy things. Which may, or may not, have ETOH in them.

12.  Saturday, I was bitterly disappointed to find out that Sweet Baboo got an email saying he'd been selected in the lottery for the La Luz Trail Run, and I had not.

Then.  A friend messaged me later to tell me my name is on the list, here:   http://ultrasignup.com/entrants_event.aspx?did=12328

So, I will begin training for this May 25th.  I'll still have a 50K to do in June, but other than that, I'm winding down for about a year of shorter distances and speedwork.  I'll still be running 5 days a week, but for much shorter distances.  I'll probably be keeping a 50K training plan recycling throughout the 2011-2012 school year while I'm interning.  My goal: Sub 2 hour.  Which, if you recall the profile, is quite ambitious.

11.  Saturday I ran a local half marathon while Baboo ran a 10K.   I had to run 15 miles Saturday, per Coach Baboo, and this seemed like a good way to do most of that, so he signed me up.  We like to support local races whenever we can, for reasons I'll mention in a bit.

It was beautiful, cool and just a bit breezy, and other than the smell of horses, the run through Albuquerque's North Valley area was lovely.  We ran past vineyards and farms and over acequias, and YES ALBUQUERQUE HAS THOSE THINGS, RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TOWN AND THAT'S WHY I LOVE IT SO and underneath old, old cottonwood trees that arched high overhead, providing shade.

We finished at a local elementary school. It was one of those lovely local races where you get to see people doing their very first race of some distance, and their friends and families hold signs and cheer wildly for them.  I think everyone, no matter what distance they wind up doing, should support local races.  It's incredibly inspiring to see people doing their very first anything, whether it's a half marathon, 10K, or 5K.

10.  Sweet Baboo also did a race at the same time; he did the 10K.  It was on the same route except that halfway through they turned into another direction.  His race started 15 minutes after mine and so, predictably just before his mile 4, he blew by me at what seemed to be a dead sprint.

Trust me, it was startling to see him running that fast - he was running faster than others around him but was much larger (Remember, he's 195 lbs and 6' tall). He is qualifying for a military running team by running a 44-minute 10K.  I can't even imagine being that fast--I'm still trying to break an hour on my 10K time.

My time for the half-marathon was 2:16 and some seconds, by the way.  I was holding my own the first 7 miles, but then I started fading. Next time, I need more water.  And faster legs.

9. This past weekend I had my last big weekend.  The marathon Saturday was followed on Sunday by...nothing.  My legs hurt, especially the upper part of my quads.  So, I rounded out a 36-mile week.  Yes, it does still freak me out to see that written, even when I write it. I can still remember the first time I freaked out of a "5 mile slow jog".  It was supposed to be more, but I'm having trouble with energy.

8.  Last Friday a kid ran by my office, closely followed by people talking into radios.  They tend not to run, as there's not a whole lot of places where he can go, so they run in a loop.  When he ran by again they were further behind.  He stopped and threw a small rock at me, hitting me squarely in the right side of my $5 reading glasses.  Good thing I had them on.  I'm imagining his treatment review:

The client's strengths include good hand-eye coordination. 

Because, you know, it's all about focusing on strengths.   

7.  A woman asked me recently how I lost weight.  What could I say?  No, it wasn't easy.  No, I sometimes will think about chocolate cake. The woman, who is large for her height, said that she just couldn't see depriving herself.  Yes, it's true, I do deprive myself at times.  But I know the following is true:

• In life there are choices.  I made mine.
• There will always be chocolate cake.  I choose when and how to have a taste.  
• Chances are, the craving will pass.  It always does. 

6.  "Ever wish vegetables didn't taste so vegetal-y"?  Says the V8 splash commercial.  Uh, well, no.  I like it that vegetables taste vegetable-y, just like I like that potatoes taste potato-y, and chicken tastes chicken-y.  If I want something that tastes Fruit-y, I'll eat fruit.  Thanks.

5.  Last Thursday I woke up at 3 am.  No idea why, but I couldn't get back to sleep.  I lay there for an hour or so, and then went out in the dark and ran 4 miles.  During my run, several cars stopped at stop signs, and even though it was dark, they saw me.  Because they, you know, STOPPED.  at the STOP SIGN.
But not this guy.  No, the guy in the old geep grand cherokee blew the stop sign, and then slowed somewhat for just a second when he saw me.  Then he went ahead and turned in front of me.  I smacked his car with my open palm.  yes, he was so close that I could simply lift my hand and do that.  I didn't reach.  He blew his horn at me.  Baby.


Then, for some reason I cannot fathom, he drove up the street, turned around, and drove up alongside me to give me a lecture.  Now, I really wanted to say, you blew the stop sign.  Now go blow yourself.


But because of my new year's resolution, *I* am a calm person in charge of her faculties.  So I waved as I ran while he rolled alongside me, and I called out repeately, Have a nice day!  Have a nice day!  Finally he gave up and yelled "dumbass" and drove away.  Ooo. Ouch.

That was fun.  If all I have to do to piss people off is be nice to them when they are steaming mad, then there you go.  Win-win.

WHAT is up with people like that?  Seriously.  If you go to the trouble of turning your car around to follow someone on foot and tell them how they should behave, how sad is your life?  

4.    Thursday, I blew off my afternoon run.  I hadn't seen my doggie all week in the sunlight.  I was tired as hell.  I also wanted to make a special meal for my daughter to celebrate the fact that SHE GOT A JOB, YES, THAT'S RIGHT I got the internship.  I won't tell you what we ate.  It was a bit of hedonism.  Okay, I'll tell: it was a couple of bacon-wrapped fillets from the local commissary.

At one point, she looked at them and reported that her father (who I haven't been married to for two decades) told her that these were too small, and that he could eat several of them.  Well, of course he could.  Most of us could.  That's not the point.  Yeah, no shit.  But I have tried to teach my daughter two important rules in life, and one of them is: Just because you can eat all of it doesn't mean you need to do so.  Anyway. We had the tiny fillets, and I talked to her about eating it slowly and enjoying each bite, because when you do that, you don't need more food.  We also had steamed vegetables and baked sweet-potato fries.

3.  Oh, by the way, the other rule I've tried to teach her is: Just because you can get it on doesn't mean it fits. Words to live by.  They should be posted, like, EVERYWHERE.

2.  I met some kids this week that, frankly, reminded me of how awesome I have it.  That's it.  That's all you're getting.  HIPAA, you know.  Okay, so I'm a bleeding heart.  Bite me.  Seriously, what do you expect from someone in my line of work?  I don't know too many Social Workers that AREN'T bleeding hearts
But.  I'm a bleeding heart whose politics are based on evidence, not the "energy" I feel.  Not the "gut feeling".  Evidence.

1.  What I am about to tell you will make you hate me.  A while back SweetFace came for dinner and was playing with his new iPad. As he is my son, SweetFace is a serious tecchie gear whore.  I tell you, I was smitten.  I have absolutely no reason to buy one of these things; I mean, I've finished all my coursework DID YOU READ THAT, HAVE I MENTIONED THAT I'M FINISHED WITH ALL MY COURSEWORK, but I jokingly said to SweetFace, you should give your dear old mother this for mother's day.

"Why should I do that?"

Because they wouldn't give me any drugs and you were nearly 9 pounds.  

We laughed.

Then, a couple weeks later, Daughter joked with him about getting me one.  He pondered that for a while, and then said, "I think I will."

Why?

Well, it turns out that as a teenager back in '02, SweetFace wanted a particular motherboard of mine, so unbeknownst to me he swapped it out with another motherboard that had a lesser processor.  It was off a PC that I wasn't using at the time, and I don't remember it, so I must not have been aware of it. (Sign of a true nerd, by the way.  He didn't break into my room to steal money or prescription pills, no, he took a motherboard.)

It furthermore turns out that himself the SweetFace has a low threshold of guilt tolerance. As well, he wants a new 2G ipad and only by giving me his 3-month-old 1G iPad can he justify that.
I, of course, am torn.

• Do I be the "good mother" and say, "don't spend all that money on me?" or 
• Do I acknowledge that yes, he was a pain in the ass teenager and so I'm totally entitled to cool stuff, being as I raised him alone most of his life? or
• Do I simply allow him to assuage his guilt by accepting a very expensive (and very cool) trinket?  

The tie-breaker, of course, is that it's INCREDIBLY COOL AND I WANT ONE.  

So, in addition to the new Garmin 310XT that Baboo brought me, guess what else I'm getting for mother's day? :)  Yeah, I know.  You hate me.  Go have some kids of your own and instill work ethic and low guilt thresholds.  It will take about 20 years, but it's totally worth it.
...

[soon to be sent from my iPad. if there's an app for that.] 

.

Do something, whenever you can, that scares you.

Friday we arrived in the area of the Leadville trail run, and even before docking at our accomodations there was a planned run in the morning.  We started out from twin lakes: Me, Sweet Baboo, Ken, Jean, and Mo.  Some other guy showed up from Massachusettes, but he was actually from Romania, and that's all I know, so that's all I'll say about him. 

The area is breathtaking.  I took pictures.  I'll upload them when I get home.  jagged peaks that once held glaciers, well above the tree line, some with bits of snow still on them.

We started out and after a mile or so I heard a mention of river crossing,  and I, uh, HUH?  river crossing?  Oh, well.  No big deal.  River crossings in New Mexico are streams that may or may not have water actually in them, and most of the time, you can just jump across them.

So as we jogged along, every once in a while I would run across some water, pretty still, about 4 to 6" deep, where some slow-moving streams crossed our path.  Finally I asked Ken, "so, is this the river?"

"Not yet," he said.

Then we got to the river.

Oh.  Shit.

It was an actual river.  With cold water was moving fast.  I mean, it wasn't the mighty Mississippi or anything, but there was no way you were getting across this without serious wetness.  My time across, I stepped down...and down...and down...until I was ass deep in rushing mountain cold water.  I was almost freaking out, not because I was ass deep in cold rushing water, but because it was fast, with a strong current, and it was pushing me backwards.  Lucky for me I had that Clydesdale in back of me to keep me from moving.

So I came up out of the river, soaking wet from butt to feet, and then we headed up to the trail head and parted ways.  The plan was, those training for Leadville 100  would go up and over Hope pass, which is around 12,000 feetish above sea level, and then back up and over from the opposite side. 

My plan was to make it to the pass and come straight back.  They moved on ahead, and Baboo had flour in a water bottle and whenever they made a turn, he marked it with the flour, and so in that way the path was marked. 

It was a long grind.  I get pretty breathless at those altitudes, so my resolve was dissipating rapidly.  I realized as I got pretty close where I figured the pass would be and realized, I had no way of knowing when I had reached a "pass".  I didn't grow up in the mountains. 

Was there a sign saying, "HOPE PASS"?  or, "You have reached The Pass"?

A greeter?  

I hiked up for a couple hours, saw a couple of ruined cabins, and hiked a little more ways up, decided I was tired of climbing this thing and, well, hell, *I* was not getting ready to run Leadville 100 so I headed back down the path to the bottomland.  I found out later that I was within a half mile of the pass, so I'll call it good.

I took pictures. I'll up load them at home.

But then, on the way back, I was alone.  I got the river, and walked up and down the beach, trying to find away across without a 200 pound man to cling to, and I made a couple of false starts, walking back to shore when the water go deeper.  It's not that I was afraid of drowning or anything.  It's mostly that I had electronics, including my phone, in the pack and was afraid of being pushed over backwards, underwater, and ruining them.  That, and maybe hitting my head on a rock and drowning. 

I turned around and came back to shore, finally decided, I'll just wait until they all come down off the mountain so that Baboo could provide a nice anchor for getting across. 

But that could be hours. 

Finally, I thought, I can do this.  I can do this.  I stood there for a really long time thinking that.  I stuck my handheld in the chest strap of my hydration pack, grabbed a long stick, and stepped back into the water.  I got to the deeper part, and even as the water pushed me backward, while I was stepping backwards, I continued stepping sideways, facing into the current the way Baboo told me to do, and then, well, then I was on the other side.   

It was one of the weird, trimphant moments when nobody was around but me to know it, but there it was.  So I took a picture of the river, and now it's on my cell phone.  When I get home, I'll upload it here. 

Later we drove to Leadville, altitutude 11K or so, and ate some really awesome Mexican food. 

THIS morning, Saturday morning, I woke really tired.  I didn't sleep well, and had had about 9 hours of sleep in two days.  Baboo and I headed out to Leadville again, and got coffee, and by then I was a little nauseated, and my head was starting to hurt and pound a little.

 I'm no fool, so I begged off the run and went back down to 8000 feet to rest.  I looked up altitude sickness, and it had a list for "mild" sickness that went like this:
Symptoms generally associated with mild to moderate altitude illness include:

•Difficulty sleeping (check)
•Dizziness or light-headedness (Mmmm.  Maybe)
•Fatigue (check)
•Headache (check)
•Loss of appetite (no, not really)
•Nausea or vomiting (check)
•Rapid pulse (heart rate) (check)
•Shortness of breath with exertion (you mean more than usual? check)

So tonight, we're supposed to do an "after dark" run.  I really want to do this, so I'm going to rest and hopefully feel better to go later. 

It occured to me when I was walking around a gift shop the other day that I want to have the kind of life where I can to see, and be among, the things that most people see on TV or in paintings. Running around in the mountains is a pretty good start, I think.  I also credit Baboo for exposing me to a lot of things I might have been afraid of in another life. 

...

Pill-popping Me,

I only ran about 39 miles this week, since I'm "cycling down" (that's ultrarunningspeak for "taper") for the Palo Duro 50K.

I have a confession to make. I tell as many people as possible that I ran 44 miles in a week. I mean, I guess it sounds pretty impressive. It impresses me, and I did it. That's hard to admit out loud I impress myself but there it is. I've told fellow-counselors, my kids, pretty much everyone who's standing still and has ears. You'd be amazed how I slip this little tidbit into conversations.

But anyway, I went to the doc Thursday afternoon, and of course I told him. As in, "the last time I trained for a marathon, I dropped down to about 150 lbs. Now I'm running nearly twice as much, and my weight won't budge. " I weighed in at 176 pounds at his office.

He agreed that my situation was curious, albeit not unheard of. My cortisol levels are fine, although he wants to do a test of my adrenal gland function in a couple months if nothing changes.

He added a T3 supplement to my daily regimen. Side effect watch: I have to watch out for heart palpitations.

I asked the pharmacist if there was any food or drink that I should avoid or limit while taking this medication, and before I'd finished my sentence he said, "Don't eat soy. It interferes with thyroid meds."

Crap. He's the third pharmacy person to tell me that. As in, NO soy. NONE.

I was hoping he'd say something different. I make killer chicken-fried tofu, and I've missed it. I'll have to develop a chicken-fried seitan recipe, I guess. (Wheat gluten is one of our main sources of protein)

So. I've been on them for three days now, and I do feel differently. I feel more like my old self. These new T3 meds have a very short half-life, so we'll see in about a week or so if I'm feeling a placebo effect or not.

Meanwhile: Chicken-fried seitan. I'm on it.

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