Drought, my ass, a race report.

Dear Diary,

The second weekend in March Sweet Baboo and I flew to San Antonio to run the Prickly Pear 50k. This consists of three 10-ish or so mile loops in Macalister park.

The first loop, well, kinda sucked. It rained almost the entire time. It was a light rain, but steady. The mud was thick, and the combination of mud and grass made nice, heavy bricks stuck to the bottom of my feet.

I came into the aid station, where volunteers were wearing ponchos and holding umbrellas. hey, where's this draught I keep reading about? Draught, my ass. My clothes were soaked. My glasses were constantly covered with fine droplets. The good news is that the anti-fingerprint and anti-fog coating I paid extra for was well worth it. When I wiped my lenses, they were instantly clear, no smearing. I finished, shed one of my soaked shirts, swapped my giant-ass hat for a regular running hat, and drank my Ensure Clear. My hair was soaked, and I was glad that it was shorter.

The second loop was good. It stopped raining and I actually made better time. The trails were drying up rapidly and running on them was more like a sticky movie theater floor. I pulled ahead of several people doing my whole, run-walk-run thing. Around mile 17 or so, I sat down for a moment to dump the rocks out of my shoe. Then I stood up and startd jogging, and--OW. Ow, ow, fucking ow. A sharp pain stabbed through my foot and I could barely move. Clearly, I had strained something slipping and sliding on the wet mud and rocks.

The next three miles were agony. I hobbled into the end of the second loop and, well, there was Baboo, finished already! Or not. Turns out he was waiting for me so that he could finish with me. He had been waiting, in fact, for over 90 minutes. I sat down to inspect my foot. Nothing. No bruise, no redness, no swelling. When I retied my shoe, it stopped hurting. Turns out that I had tied my shoe too tightly before. Who'd have thought that would be so painful?

Not that the final loop was better. All my toughness from last year's 100k runs was eclipsed by a winter of sloth. I had not put in the time on my feet and kegs, and buddy, they let me know. I got an ache that started in my hips and began working its way down to my lower legs. Ow, ow, ow.

Baboo was unfailingly cheerful. Whereas I whimpered, it's never going to end. It's a diminishing function. He replied, There's more behind us than in front of us!

When I whined, I'm never going to make it, he soothed, you're doing great, sweetie!

After I shuffled ten or twenty yards slightly faster than a walk, I heard, great run, sweetie!!

Obviously, it did end. We did finish. Three minutes under the cutoff, I dragged my whiney ass across the finish line, Sweet Baboo running easily and lightly just behind. He told me he was proud of me. (I live for that) we got a neato glass finisher's medal, and fajitas.

The we we went to see "silver lining playbook." I had my very own bucket of corn, with butter. Awesome.

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Next week, the Inaugural Navy Marathon race report.

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The saddest thing, ever. A race report.

Dear diary,

 

 

 

 

 

This is Burn Lake.

Burn Lake is in Las Cruces and it was formed while they were constructing I10 through there--they were excavating dirt for building overpasses and hit the water table, and hole started filling up. No word on what they planned to do with that giant hole--maybe it was slated for a runoff pond for flooding but in any case, the lake formed, and according to Google maps, at one time looked like this (below).

The lake was used as a runoff pond, and had no outlet, and there are lots of farms around here, so around 2006 or maybe before, swimming was banned due to high amounts of e. coli found in the water. They built soccer fields around it, meanwhile, and lots of picnic shelters.

Then within the last year or so, it just dried up, they said, due to the drought. But you have to figure, this means that the water table in Las Cruces has dropped twenty feet of more. Such is the case when you move in a bunch of gringos who insist on having green lawns in the southern Chihuahua desert.

Srsly, the saddest thing ever. No swimming, y'all.

Te El Paso marathon, which I did last weekend, is also just the saddest thing ever.

First, it's E Paso. Sweet Baboo spent this weekend doing health screenings on lots of guardsmen and women who live there, and not one person he met likes El Paso, even ones who were raised there. Even on a Sunday afternoon, the place seemed lacking in human activity in the downtown area. It's flat, it's dusty, and the wind blows constantly--it doesn't have the romantic charm of, say, Santa Fe, 300 miles to the north. It makes Albuquerque look like a lush, tropical paradise.

The marathon itself is okay. It's a point-to-point, and they bus you to the start line. It's well organised in that respect. What makes it sad is that in El Paso, a city of over 600,000 which may, or may not, include the very large Ft. Bliss and bedroom community to the north of Lac Cruces--only about 400 bother to sign up for the full. Anyway, they bus you to the top of the mountain and about sunrise you start running down the mountain. The first five miles are spent running downhill, and hopefully you've trained for this so that your quads aren't blown. Then you make a few turns, and around mile 9 or 10 you start running on this runway looking thing, I think someone told me that it's a highway for tanks. The next ten miles are straight down this thing into a headwind that is picking up speed. I couldn't run against this, I just couldn't. But this is why I do racewalk training, so I started doing that, passing a few along the way. Then you're on post, running through the base, and around mile 19 you turn and leave the base and for me, that's where it got very interesting.

When I left the tree-lined shelter of the base, I ran into a dust storm. It picked up until the wind was roaring past me. I walked with one hand holding my hat, one hand in front of me in a futile effort to block the sand, and occasionally looking up to make sure I was going in a straight line.

Now, there are no course markings. Instead, there are El Paso police posted at every intersection, and they stop traffic and also point the way. They did a terrific job keeping traffic away. The aid stations, after mile 16, were every mile, which was important because I was counting on that since I didn't have a bottle. By mile 20, though, the cups of water and gatorade were in boxes to keep them from being blown away, but still had a fine, thin layer of sand in them. It couldn't be helped.

Around about mile 22 or 23, a van pulled up next to me. It was full of runners, and the driver asked me if I wanted a ride. Then he said something else that I couldn't quite make out over the howling wind, but I just shook my head. I wanted to finish. He gave me a strange look and lingered for a moment, and then drove away. I continued on, blocking the sand and wind and then...

And then...

I was alone.

What the guy had been saying to me was that they were shutting down the course. I didn't hear that part. I stood on a street corner in downtown El Paso, waiting for traffic, and looked around, and there were no police, no aid stations, and of course, no course markings. I continued down the street, blocking the sand from my eyes, following empty sports gel wrappers too stuck to the road to blow away.

Now, around about this time Sweet Baboo, Bones, and Miki (who had finished between 3:30 and 3:39) were in the stands, waiting for me, when two motorcycle officers escorted the "last" runner in...and it wasn't me. My friends and Baboo looked at each other. Where was she? They asked one of the police, who informed them that there were a couple of runners out there who had "refused" to take a ride, "but they're miles away." Baboo asked him what their bib number were. "Bib numbers? I don't know." He got the car and went looking, and as he told me later, was immediately lost.

Eventually, the gel package trail stopped. The streets were deserted save for one shaky-looking couple walking towards me, the man carrying a large stick. "Hey...any chance you guys know where the finish line is for the marathon?" I shouted at him over the wind.

He walked up very close to me. "Oh, wow, man, I think it's over by the bus station, man," he waved his arm towards the central part of downtown, and then held the stick out towards me. "You better carry this, man, there's a dog down there that wants to bite you on the leg." He gestured towards an empty lot where I could see no such animal, but I took the stick, thanked him, and continued on my way.

I ran across a bridge over a highway, and then stood on a corner for a while watching traffic go by. I had misgivings. Then I turn and went up a hill towards a park, hoping to be able to see the convention center from there. I asked a man walking his dog, the tiny dog nearly blown off the sidewalk by the wind. "Oh, my goodness, let's see..." And began turning in circles, scanning the city. Well, shit; I can do that. I left him there and continued up the hill. I found myself standing on a corner waiting for the light, and next to me was a man in dusty clothes, scraggly beard, carrying a ragged backpack.

I asked him. He was surprisingly eloquent, "why, I believe, yes, I believe it is over by the bus station." He waved his hand in a southwesterly direction, back down the hill, so went back down again, crossing over the freeway and heading west.

Eventually I encountered a woman trudging up the hill, wearing her finisher's medal. She looked startled to see me, being as she was the "last" finisher. She pointed, and I ran down the hill and turned left, and ran into Miki. Now I was just pissed, and didn't feel like running any more, but sure happy to see someone I knew. It was well beyond six hours since I'd started, so when I came to the finish line where the tracking was being taken apart, I kicked it over and then went to sat down and asked for my medal. It didn't seem of interest to anyone working that I had finished and was accounted for. But a very nice man with a beard got me a medal, and miki brought me some water and chocolate milk.

Miki got on her cell phone and contacted Baboo and Bones, and they drove over to pick us up. Baboo hugged me tightly. I gazed into his face and said, "get me the fuck out of this town."

In case you're wondering I did get a gracious letter of apology from the RD. It was just a miscommunication and a comedy of errors. He's going to take steps next year to make sure It doesn't happen again. I had to guess my time, so I was added to the list of finishers with a time of 6:10. Not a PR.

Oh, and did I mention I had woken up that morning with a headache AND a cough?

Yeah.

...

 

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So far.

Dear Diary,

Here's what I've learned this year so far: Simplifying your life, easy steps in four weekends.

1. home entertainment

A. Buy an Ooma hub and get it working.

B. Get an apple Tv and get it working, or a streaming net box. (Or a smart tv that does all that)

C. Tell your cable company that you no longer want telephone or cable, just internet, thanks. Shop around for a better price on internet if you have to.

--How this simplifies your life: you will spend less money (100 a month in some cases), and be free of the barrage of commercials that seek to convince you that you are too fat, ugly, sad, or hungry when you really aren't. You'll be more thoughtful in your entertainment, instead of just watching whatever garbage is on. You'll watch more indies and documentaries. If you need noise while you're working, Pandora is available on those streaming boxes, for free.

 

 

2. Simplify your 'friends'.

A. Delete people who you honestly don't like, or who have over 600 "friends" and you haven't communicated with in quite some time.

B. Uncheck "show in news feed" on anyone who fills your newsfeed with posts that waste time or piss you off. They won't know, and they won't be unfriended.

C. Go through your settings on Pinterest, Google+, and Twitter and get rid of all notifications. You won't get an alert or email everytime someone breathes.

--How this improves your life: you will get updates on people you truly care about and have less aggravation from wanting to argue with others. Less clutter in your email inbox. Seriously...if you weren't friends with them in school, are you friends with them now?

 

 

3. simplify your house.

A. Go through your house, room-by-room, and pull out five objects that you totally don't want or need from every room. Ask yourself when was the last time you used it. If it's more than six months, put it in a box, tape the box, and date it. In three months if you haven't gone into that box specifically to get one object, donate the box to goodwill without opening it.

B. offer cherished knick-knacks to those closest to you.

C. Ask yourself if you're really going to read those books again. Probably not. Most information is on the Internet, and books collect dust and powdery mold. So, list them on Half.com and buy some mailing envelopes. As you sell them, enjoy the empty spaces on your shelves.

D. Clear off horizontal surfaces.

--How this simplifies your life: it's easier to clean, and easier to find things, when you don't have to navigate around clutter.

 

 

4. simplify your closet

Go through your closet and make four piles: things that don't fit, things that fit but are out of season, and things that are in season and fit. Remove anything you haven't worn in a year for the fourth pile. Put the no fit and no wear piles in a box, as in step one. Put the rest back in your closet, with out of season clothes in the back. Do NOT get caught up in thr lost money. That money's already gone, so get rid of the closet clutter.

How this simplifies your life: It's easier to get dressed when you only have clothes that your wear and that fit to choose from.

Geeky simplifying reference-->

...

 

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Day 3: like a racehorse.

Dear Diary,

"Let's do this another day," he said. Then he went for a about a six mile run, hilly trail run at a 9:30 pace, and it felt good. We went to the store and bought more celery, which we seem to go through pretty fast, a dn kale, berries, and other stuff. I was looking for a nice herbal tea. It's hard to find herbal teas without mint in them; what's up with that?

So it's the beginning day three. Yesterday, Baboo came home and said he felt good, energy problems, not really hungry, but....but, "i feel deprived." I know what he means. I've been thinking of popcorn al day. Wth truffle oil on it. Mmmmmm.

I feel Good. not great, but good. I met DP and SW Tri Gal at Einsteins yesteday, where the were giving out free bagels. Thanks for that. I had tea, and gave my bagel away. On the way home I pulled into the parking lot of the AA Super Buffet. Nobody would ever know, I said to myself. Then I sighed and drove back out of the parking lot and went home. I watched a whole bunch of documentaries on netflix while I cleaned. I love those little documentaries. I can feel the liberal hippie in me rising when I watch them. I'm all, oo, I'm gonna join a coop! I wanna raise chickens! I'm gonna march in a parade! Then I remember I can barely put together and maintain a training plan, and I get real.

Today, I started peeing. And peeing. And peeing. It's nearly clear, probably because I drink a glass of water between every two glasses of juice. I"m well-hydrated.

Then again, I'm a skeptic. I'm one of the people that don't seem to be affected by the Placebo effect, which of course to new-agers means that I canceled out product/process X by my lack of positivity. I'm one of the most positive people I know, so bite me. Of course, one of the secrets of my positivity is that I dump all my negative thoughts here, so don't be fooled.

So, Baboo and I broke the three day fast tonight. He said he was feeling a bit weak in his ruuning and for us, that’s a deal breaker. He lost about four pounds and I lost three. I got him turned into green tea for fasting days. I told him that for the break-fast I wanted protein, and lots of it. So, we went to the County Line and I had a steak and vegetable skewer. We talked about moving forward.

Baboo and I decided that based on our all reading we would follow a 5:2 fasting program. Fast two days, then eat normally five days, rinse, repeat. There's some research to support this method of intermittant fasting and being reasonable and beneficial. So, we're going to give it a shot. Fasting days will be Monday and Tuesday.

Of course, tomorrow is Monday. So another two days starts.

 

 

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Day 2: saturday.

Dear Diary,

I'm not sure why I thought a weekend was a good place to start a fast. It's a stupid place to start a fast. I'm bored, and when I'm bored, I eat.

Last night was fine. I wasn't hungry. Baboo, however, said he had a "general feeling of suffering". I made him some broth. He declared the broth "awesome". He declined eating, and wanted to go one more day. Then he fell asleep in the chair at 6:30. I imagine that part of his tiredness yesterday comes from the fact that he didn't have any caffeine, and he usually starts the day with, oh, about four cups of java. No, I'm not making that up. He blends it in a 1000 ml beaker I bought for him for that purpose, with 8 ounces of skim milk and protein powder.

I've doing some intermittant fasting for almost two months now, so I guess my body is used to it. Usually, I don't eat on Mondays. I also read that the worse your diet is, the worse the first few days are. I don't know if that's true, but my symptoms have been minimal. Baboo says his are too, but then he woke up with a headache, probably from lack of caffeine.

I tried to develop an eating disorder in high school. One of those stupid things teenage girls do, I guess. Before I under the anguish and frustration of actually having one, I was all, I wish that was my problem. I don't have the willpower for it. Purging is a lot of work. And deliberately tracking everything I eat and such...I am Lazy. Now, Binging, on the other hand, I'm all over it. I can put away food like nobody's business. But food restriction, and the rest, I guess it takes a certain personality type, maybe more type a-ish. I will often forget to eat, but when I think about it, I want to eat. and when I'm really ramping p the training, my car mysteriously steers towards tne nearest super buffet, where I consume mass quantities of chicken and seafood. those are my weakness. As for purging, well, never gonna happen. once it's it's eaten, it's eaten, let that shit go, man. I'm like Jeff Bridges in Tron you're really messing with my zen thing here....as also evidenced by my startling lack of placing in runs. I'm all, whatever.

So anyway. Last night Baboo said, with wide eyes, the broth was awesome. It is awesome. One of the things I read, and I can't remember where, is that some of the really crappy feelings from juicing fasts come from lack of sodium. Plus, it gives your taste buds a break. Juices are sweet. Not sugary, syrupy sweet, but sweetish. This was a surprise to me. Even the cruciferous vegetables are sweet when juiced.

I gave Baboo a large cup of green tea this morning, because he has guard duty, and some tea bags to take along with his kit.

I put a piece of chicken in my mouth and chewed it up and spit it out. I thought it would be satisfying. Nope. Mostly, I'm bored. I don't really feel hnger, which means I need to rexamine my relationship with food, I guess. Or clean my filthy house.

I got me some new Sarah Palin glasses. I personally have always loved how she dressed. Too bad about the room temperature IQ thing.

So....we're off to day 2. I have a 15 mile run/walk....maybe. This should be interesting. I wonder if putting a drop or two of truffle oil in my broth is cheating.

 

 

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Juice fast: day 1

Dear Diary,

Last night, Baboo and I bought about $70 worth of kale, celery, strawberries, carrots, and other produce, and I juiced for about an hour to set us up for today.

8:00 am: Holy shit I'm already hungry. Maybe it's a psychological thing. Maybe. AND I'm cranky. Why do people drive 30 in a 40? Seriously, why? Is it because they're afraid of going downhill too fast? Parking brake stuck on? Some misguided attempt to save on brakes, gas, or help the rest of us slow down? This is, quite literally, a hazard when people in front of you start veering out of the way, and you're not quite sure why, and then all of the sudden you are nearly up the ass of a woman in a Subaru who is doing who knows what the eff. MOVE!!!

Interesting article: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-19112549

10 am. Okay, I'm not as hungry as I was before. Maybe that's an early morning thing. That seems to be a weak time for me. I've had a juice, and lots of water with MIA in it.

noon. I just had a cup of broth, my own little personalization in this experiment. I feel a bit of a headache coming on. I'm on track, so far, to what I'm supposed to be doing. So, to keep my mind busy during my lunch break, I calculate the calories in my juice: Strawberry Delight, 240 calories. "Jack's favorite", 270.

3:00, I feel pretty good, actually. Surprising. No more headache.

The big test for me will be TV watching. I like to munch. Maybe I'll munch on broth.

4:00 I'm about to head home. i sent an email to Baboo just now and asked how he was doing. When he gets home we'll decide just how "modified" this fast will be. I'm dreaming of a whole fried chicken. Or a whole rotisserie chicken. Think I"m making that up? I am a former binge-eater, my friend. I have sat in my car in the parking lot at Walmart and eaten a whole rotisserie chicken.

"Modified" fast, by the way, is the misnomer given by big babies like me to a process that is kind of fast-like, but without going full Ghandi.

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Johnny come lately

Dear Diary,

Unlike the rest of the US who already saw the documentary Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead, Sweet Baboo and I had it in out Netflix queue for over a year before watching it last weekend. Baboo was fascinated.

Hey, should we try this?

"Try this?" This, from a man who has nearly torn cabinets off the wall because of a hunger pang? I was suspicious. I finally asked him, later, why he wanted to try this.

Turns out he wants to 'make weight'. This is a throwback term from days of being an athlete...Baboo is in the Military and, at 6'1" his weight limit is 208 lbs. (I'm now officially to lazy to convert that to kg or stone, but Google will do it nicely if you type in, "hiw many stone is 200 pounds?") He's convinced that they mis-measured measured his height and he's actually 6' and thus, his weight limit is 200. Military members are given periodic fitness assessments, and getting high points on these is part of qualifying for promotion, or for some, continued stay in the military.

But he's solid, and I do mean solid, muscle. If you're overweight, then they 'tape' you, meaning that they measure your abdomen with a tape measure. As long as the abdomin-to-height ratio is acceptable, then you can be overweight. Baboo, however, is a perfectionist (hence myself, his Lovely Wife) and he was firm. I don't wanna be taped.

Also, he wants to drop about ten pounds, or more, to be faster. He wants to qualify for Boston again. I think he feels mildly cheated by the record insanely fucking hot year that was 2012. So now he's shooting for 2014.

Now, here's what's interesting. Himself hates vegetables. Haaaaates them. Did I say hates? He fucking LOATHES them. But, he insists that this is because of their texture, not necessarily their taste. He will eat the following vegetables in their whole form: peas, carrots, green beans, beets, and corn.

Corn is a grain, I pointed out.

He feels that he might be able to stand the juice.

So, last Sunday, while the rest of the US was chowing on wings and beer, we parked directly in front of my favorite cookery store (and I am telling you, shopping during the Stupor Bowl is the BOMB. The streets are empty, the parking lots are empty, and there were more store employees than customers. I wish every weekend was the Stupor Bowl; my general dislike of crowds and well, let's face it people would be mollified while people sat in their wall-e chairs and gazed straight ahead)

Ahem. Anyway.

<-- We got this. I read through many, many reviews of juicers on Amazon before selecting this. They had to search long and hard for this one at the store, being as it was the lowest-priced one there. It's the Breville 850 watt model with variable speed. It takes up an impressive amount of counter-space, and other than a home espresso machine, may quite possibly be the messiest thing I've ever used. But it does a good job juicing. It is a centrifugal type juicer. Putists will insist that it raises the temperature and destroys important enzymes, to which I have found that 1) according to the company it does, indeed, raise the temperature two whole degrees Farenheit, and 2) there are absolutely no studies about enzymes being destroyed. It's a weak hypothesis, at best.

As I gazed upon it sitting on the counter, I realized, I now officially old. -er. All i need now is the large divided pill box full of supplements and oh shit wait, I already have that.

I read. And read. And read. When considering this type of thing, one has to wade through a lot of quasi-scientific new age (I'm not even bothing to capitalize that) bullshit. I also consulted with one of my work collegues, who is a DO and a psychiatrist.

I told Baboo we would start with a three-day fast, and see how it goes, starting Friday morning. This weekend he will have guard duty, which will keep him busy and keep his mind off eating. I am also doing this, because apparently it's difficult to do a juice fast if your partner is in the next room frying chicken, er, I mean sauteeing chicken. Whatever.

Purists will also insist that there should be NO SODIUM and NO CAFFEINE. I posit that this is a good idea for people who have the luxury of fasting while lying in bed all day. But it gave me an idea: Baboo starts off his day wuth about 4 to 6 cuos of coffee. I'd like to break that cycle.

Day 1: Here are the rules, which I emailed to Baboo at work and to his personal email:

8 ounces of juice, (recipes to follow) consumed at 9, 11, 1, and 3.

8 ounces of water at 8, 10, 12, 2, and 4.

8 ounces of broth with plenty of sodium at noon and maybe later in the afternoon if you get hungry.

Evening, to be determined.

Now, devotees of the Juicing Lifestyle insist that the juice be made and consumed within the same time-frame. it oxidizes, they insist.

I don't know where these people work, but I don't want them in my office, which is on a locked psychiatric unit and where coworkers take a dim view of loud machinery spewing bits of vegetable matter hither and yon.

So, I made the juices the night before, and froze them, in 20 ounce containers -->

I didn't freeze the morning juice, which is thus:

--1 cup of strawberries

--3 large carrots

--1 small zuchinni

--4 celery stalks

--1 medium granny smith apple

I have to say, this was pretty damned good. I like this juice. It made two cups, and that was breakfast.

I was warned, in my reading, against eating too much fruit, which has a ton of sugar in it. A little fruit is good, though, because of the high water content and because it makes the juices more palatable.

So, here is mine ands Baboo's juicing fast kit for the day:

The caraf in the middle has the morning strawberry mix in it.

Note the spoon, broth base, and plastic knives--the plastic knives are for chipping away at at the iced juices. They are much better when fresh, and when cold.

It's 6 am on day 1.

Ready?

Here we go...

 

 

 

 

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