Even Stupid People Know to Come In Out of the Rain

Another chapter in the long-playing saga of Not Born to Run.

A 12-mile run was scheduled on Saturday...unless there was a New Triathlete Program bike ride, which I had volunteered to help out on, but which was going to be canceled if the weather turned yucky...

So I figured the bike ride was canceled on Saturday morning, since it was raining and 30F AND windy. A trifecta of crap! A crapecta! Bike ride off, 12 mile run on! I pulled on my running duds, got in the elevator, went down to the front door, opened it, stepped outside...and no. No way. Back in the elevator, back upstairs, right to my door. Stop. "C'mon! You can DO this! You've done it a million times before!" Back to the elevator, back downstairs, out the front door, this time down the steps, where I stood there...and No. Way. Not Happening.

Back upstairs and into a toasty warm bed.

Too bad the bike ride was actually ON. I had now effectively skipped two workouts. This? Made me cranky.

It's possible that I was tired. (Have I mentioned before that I'm TIRED?? Thanks for all your fine, fine advice!) It didn't help that my neighbors have all decided to go beserk at the same time. Friday night, my downstairs neighbors decided to stand on the balcony--JUST BELOW the window that my bed is against—and SMOKE, and talk and yell at the top of their lungs. We called the cops not once, but three times. It's possible that someone in my apartment leaned over my balcony and yelled at them. Just to make sure they knew exactly who called the cops.

Sigh.

Sunday dawned bright and clear and chilly, after another night of different neighbors going beserk on their balcony, so I had to sweet-talk myself into getting at least 10 miles done. I brought Phedippidations along with me—I've been running iPod-less for the past year at least, so this was a big treat—and I got 'er done. Number One Daugher and I had a lovely Easter, and I ate about 10 lbs of chocolate.

My fifth swim lesson was this morning. My instructor had me swimming on my back with fins, working on my kick, and? I was drowning. I mentioned this to her, and she said, "I'm not really concerned with that right now, I'm concentrating on your kick." She cracks me up. She's been timing my 50s, which is freaking nerve-wracking, and in one week I went from 1:04s to :53s. Of course I'm tossing up a lung at the end.

Tuesday night is my last track workout in the Speed Dev Program! My how time ... sort of flies. Not really. I both look forward to and loathe the end of track. But tomorrow night we have the choice of doing a track workout, or doing the Firebird mile race. Which sounds pretty horrifying. I need some solid advice from the masses. Crowdsource me. Take my handy dandy poll:

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Walkers of the World, Unite

I am here to tell you that you are misunderstood and unappreciated. Walking is hard! Walking is quite a workout! Walking is as hard as running. Since April 22 I've walked: 95.1 miles, at an average pace of 15:32/mile and it's practically killed me. So rock on, walkers, is all I have to say. You need to unionize! Or at least get a song!

Today was the Big Day. And in case you haven't guessed by now, or haven't read it yet in the New York Times, I got the all clear to walk, run, skip rope, swim, bike, spin, lift weights, and stand on my head if I want. Even all at once!

Upon hearing this news, I immediately contacted TEAM JEANNE for advice, before I did something idiotic.

And the TEAM of TEAM JEANNE gave these stellar instructions:

Go out for an EASY one-mile run today. Walk one or two miles to cool down. Walk on Friday. Plan your next EASY SHORT run for Saturday, maybe 1.2 to one and a quarter miles with a cool down walk. Run Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday next week. Nothing far (one and a half to two miles max) fast or strenuous.

Which, after much pondering and serious study, I translated this way:

Go out for an a really fast hard one-mile run today. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

Woot!

I laced up the PF Flyers and hit the trail with much anticipation and loads of trepidation. Running, pfft, it looks so easy! How hard could it be?

So today I did this:
Mile 1, walk: 27,000 minutes (16:53 (including long traffic stop))

Mile 2, run (are ya ready??): 9:43
NINE FORTY THREE!!!

Mile 3, walk: 400,000 minutes (17:08 (long traffic stop))

Woot, I say again!

Of course I was ready to die after mile 2. I'll be good from now on, I promise. I have a long, long way to go. Actually, I don't need to promise, because if I'd had to run three feet more, I would have collapsed in a heap. The last time I ran was March 17, 11 long long weeks ago. Somehow I have managed not to gain any weight in the interim (walking!), but things were jiggling that I didn't remember jiggling before. I am starting over. And I have goals and plans and Big Things to accomplish!

Oh, and the other news? The operation was a success! And the patient lived!

And as if THAT weren't enough good news for one day, I got this e-mail from my condo manager about that little situation with my upstairs neighbors:

Hi Jeanne,

I found the original letter, written to the owner in November of 2005. Apparently, he had repairs done by unlicensed contractors at some point, which resulted in a violation. I will send a copy of this letter to him, along with a new violation letter, tomorrow. In it I will state that he has ten days to make repairs, or we will do it for him. He will also be called before the board for a hearing if he doesn't comply.

I'll send you a copy of the letter, and then please let me know within ten days or so if anything has transpired.
Thanks!

Woot! I just hope my place hasn't been burned down by the time I get home.

It's all good people. Life is really a ... no not a box of chocolates, a string of ups and downs. At least that's what the people at the psychiatric clinic told me. After they handed me my meds.

Now, I would like to leave you with an inspirational video. This character never failed to inspire me over the years, and I hope he does the same for you.