Braving the Elements

We've had, for the most part, a rather mild Central Oregon winter. I have been snowed out of Portland moreso than I've been snowed-in this year in Bend. That's a first. As of a few days ago, we had enough rain with the warmer temperatures that the snow seemed to be an almost distant memory, and my thoughts were shifting from indoor treadmill to outdoor freedom.

Imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning to nothing but the white stuff (we're talking snow here) falling from the sky and apparently, it had been falling all night long. Snow was everywhere - on the trees, on the rooftops, and it completely blanketed the ground, where it looked pretty deep. There went my dream of hiking along new trails in the very near future. It's now back to Winter, snow shovels and snow shoes. Is it ever going to stop, or am I just destined to live wrapped up a parka looking a bit like the Michelin Man until June?

While the new-found twist in the Arctic weather is rather tragic for my running endeavors, it is all fun and games for some members of the household, namely the dogs, who love going out for a lunch-time romp to break through the new snow, not to mention the needed break I get in the middle of the workday.

As you can see, like mother/like son with the header's in the snow. He doesn't seem to be phased too much by it. My shoulder, on the other hand, has yet to make a full recovery.

Between my injuries and the snowy weather, this down-time is giving me the opportunity to do a little R&D on all of the events we can participate in once the latest deep freeze melts and we can actually see the ground again. Gives us something to look forward to. Until then I will just have to live off of my fat reserves and hope for a quick defrost.

Mixing it up

Saturday I was all ready to get back into my running routine to prepare for the Shamrock Run, which is now a brief three weeks away. The running Gods had other ideas, however, and must be conspiring against me because when I got up, I immediately felt a sharp pain run down the right side of my neck and straight into my arm - then I couldn't so much as turn my head very far in either direction. Seriously, my head is locked in a tilt to the right and I have the same inquisitive expression as Kooper does when I ask him, "Do you want to go?"

In pain and panic, I checked WebMD for symptoms and it came up as follows: Pinched nerve. Disastrous. Anyone who is a hypochondriac should never use WebMD, by the way - since it gives you a long list of what it possibly could be. I'll just leave it at that. This probably was just a matter of me sleeping the wrong way, although I can only imagine that I would have had to slept in a headstand position in order to get this kind of pain as a result. Note to self: new pillows on the to-do list.

So, running was completely out of the question for Saturday. It hurt to even move, muchless bounce around. A bit distressed by my bad luck (what a drag it is getting old) and yet determined to get some sort of exercise in to combat my ever expanding back-side, I decided to take Kooper for an "urban" hike in Bend. A little R&D and exploration, not to mention a chance to get our blood pumping. So two aspirins down the hatch and off to Pilot Butte we went. How bad could that hurt?

It was a cold and overcast Saturday, but that didn't seem to stop us, or a lot of other people for that matter, from making the trek to the top of the butte. Two roads lead up. The first is a paved road for the non-hikers -- you can drive a car up, but is closed for winter so in the snowy months it doubles as a nice walking path without the stress of having someone sliding around the corner and taking you out. The road loops around the butte, obvious the "long way," until you reach the summit, which provides 360 degree views of Bend. I could see Costco from the top (sigh). The other, and the path we chose, is a trail that goes up one side of the butte, which is a bit steeper and shorter. Run off from the snow melt made it a little muddy, but other than that, it was just the right jaunt for me and the boy. We were passed, both directions, by a little old lady all in pink, with the exception of a black fuzzy russian type of hat, jogging. Mortifying.

Other than the overcast skies, the day was perfect, as were the views from the top. There are a lot of other buttes and mountains that we'll have to leave for summer exploration, but it was nice to stop for a minute and take it all in.

After hiking, Kooper thought it would be a fabulous idea to stop for a beer at one of the many local brew pubs in downtown Bend to reward ourselves for a job well done. It didn't seem like a bad idea to me. I thought it I might even find a beer with some sort of healing properties to make my neck return to normal again. In the end though, he was a little over-zealous, as none of them seemed set up for outdoor, winter dog-brew sipping.

While I wait for the arctic defrost to occur, I will spend the rest of my weekend lathered up in Ben Gay with a heating pad on my neck wondering how this happened. Hurry up Spring!

Falling Off The Wagon

Webster's dictionary defines moderation as follows:

mod·er·a·tion \ˌmä-də-ˈrā-shən\ noun without excess; moderately; temperately: to drink in moderation.

I should have read that a lot sooner. It's now my new mantra. There's something to be said for falling off the workout wagon. There's something else to be said when the wagon runs you over, backs up and runs you over again then parks on your head. "Moderation" is usually not something I like to even consider, so when we were out and about the other night -- oh boy. I should have that definition taped directly to my forehead for future reference.

The onslaught of recovery mode has taught me a very good lesson - well, a few good lessons. 1/ Don't party like it's 1999 - simply because it's not; 2/ The body becomes very less forgiving about these indiscretions the older I get. I am on day 2 of recovery and still wondering who was driving that wagon that hit me. Seriously, my left eye has a twitch that I am certain is alcohol poisoning, and am thinking I have done permanent damage; Day 1 was worse - my entire head had a twitch. 3/ It will take me about 1,000 miles of running to get back to where I was before my pre-ten gallons of wine evening.

Moral of the story: Even though the evening was good fun, it simply isn't worth the time it takes to turn back into a functioning human again. Ten days of detox to get my body "cleansed" went straight out the window in a matter of hours. So, back to square one. I can't beat myself up for it, even Olympic athletes fall off the wagon every now and again -- my pipe dream is a lot different than Phelps's apparently. And it's not like I'm going to lose any Wheaties endorsements or anything. The only place my mug might end up is the back of a milk carton.

So, starting tomorrow, when hopefully my body is back to normal and I can see out of both eyes again, I will begin the process all over again and try to stay as far inside the wagon from this day forward as I possibly can. Wish me luck.

Valentine's Day.....

"Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." - Forrest Gump

Today is Valentine's Day - a day of romance, champagne, and chocolates. An excuse to ditch the healthy food and scarf down a few treats, all in the name of love. This was all find and dandy until I found out that St. Valentine was actually a martyr put to death by the Romans. Where's the love in that?

So today, while trying to keep in the Valentine's Day spirit, I got up, dressed in my best red running outfit I could find (oh l'amour) and hit the treadmill to try to at least get a few calories into my storage vault for the onslaught of chocolate and champagne that is sure to be on the menu tonight. Mission accomplished and I won't feel too terribly guilty later.

My husband and I don't make a big deal out of Valentine's Day - I attribute this to being old and married. During the 'courting stage' however, he was all about making the day special. One year for Valentine's day he framed a picture of us with a big, over-sized heart around it. Now the only thing big and over-sized is his butt on our couch. There's a lesson to be learned here, but I won't ruin the moment for anyone else who is still in that delusional giddy phase and making their own Valentine's Day cards. Seriously, who has that kind of time on their hands?

I suppose I shouldn't pick on my husband too badly. He did remember Valentine's Day this year and brought home a present for me. Tiger Woods Golf for the Wii. I sat there, looking back and forth from the game in my hand to his smiling face (you could really see how proud he was that he had gotten me something), while he gushed that this was something we could do together. Nothing says togetherness like a video game. While I thought that this was going to lead to the Valentine's Day Massacre, I soon came to the conclusion, this was a rather clever move on his part and one that won't slip through the cracks in my ever-diminishing brain cells. Next year I'll buy myself something disguised as a present for him ("Oh honey, what do you mean? You don't like that pink palm pilot????). I'm now kicking myself in my over-sized butt for not thinking of this gimmick before he did.

So life is kind of like a box of chocolates -- the trick is picking out your own pieces. In any event, let the games begin. My golf club and champagne glass are ready and I will invision myself at the AT&T Pro-Am at Pebble Beach, basking in the warm Monterey sunshine, while giving my husband a Valentine's Day lesson in Wii golf. Fore. Tomorrow it's back to reality, running and staying on track.

What's for Lunch?

When I'm in our office in Portland, my lunch hour is normally spent taking the brown furry one to the dog park. This ensures that Kooper can get his daily dose of exercise and, hopefully, I can have a somewhat peaceful afternoon in the office to get things accomplished without being accosted (repeatedly) with a slobbery ball. Yet another occupational hazard. Runs, while in Portland, come after work and usually after taking Kooper on a short walk and let me say, it is sometimes really difficult to get motivated to run so late in the evening. I can usually think of a million and one excuses for not taking that run and practically have to force myself to hit the treadmill (after looking in Kooper's sad little eyes). Always a challenge.

On the other extreme, every day around lunch, my co-worker, and yet another Shamrock Run co-conspirator (I'm sure I'll see his dust...), faithfully picks up his backpack and heads to go for a run at the local 24 Hour Fitness strategically located right behind our office. The same 24 Hour Fitness where you can plug your Nike+ iPod equipment into their cardio machines and they will keep track of your workouts for you and send them to Nike+ before your sweat even has time to dry. But we won't get into the lure of the gadgets here, although just the thought of it makes me want to run out and join, then I remember my never-ending date with the dog park.

This week I'm working from my office in the winter wonderland otherwise known as the Treehouse, and lunches have a taken on a whole new meaning. Normally I don't do much of anything and find myself just working straight through, simply out of having no where to go. Even getting to the neighbor's house requires an ATV in these parts (and sometimes overalls). This really is no good. There are enough studies that show that it's more beneficial to your brain to actually take a lunch break and (ala Elvis, minus the fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches) leave the building. So, who am I to argue? Today I decided to take that time and hit the treadmill, getting my run out of the way early.

It felt kind of weird at first, like it was something I shouldn't be doing in the middle of a work day. After I got rolling a bit I had a thought: What a brilliant concept. I had more energy mid-day than I usually do after a day of work and felt more energized after the run to tackle the afternoon. After being bound to my desk all morning, it was nice to actually move around and get the blood pumping. My body was wondering what the hell I was doing, but after the second kilometer, it was actually enjoyable. Usually when I run I listen to Podrunner Intervals and rarely do I finish my 5k before the next podcast starts (this means I'm disastrously slow, by the way). Today, I was done before with the run before the cool down section started. What a bonus. Getting it done mid-day simply gets it out of the way. No excuses necessary. Why didn't I pick up on this sooner? (Don't answer that).

At the end of the day there was still enough daylight to get the boys outside to play a game of fetch in all the new snow that has covered up the layer of ice that formed on the ground, making games of fetch rather trecherous. I have a hard enough time standing upright without finding my butt in the snow - I don't need ice as an additional factor -- gravity is challenging enough. At the end of the day, everyone got in their exercise before the sun set. This makes for a nice evening - and both pups are sacked out and completely content.

I'll be doing more many more lunchtime runs when we're here and on the weeks when we're in Portland, well, am afraid I am already committed to my permanent lunch date. I don't mind, actually. It still beats dealing with slobbery tennis balls and an overly energized Labrador jumping on unsuspecting visitors, like the mailman or some other potential gift-bearing people. I will simply just have to live vicariously through my co-worker on those Nike + iPod cardio machines. The lunch break, either way, is back.

Walk me

On the "off" days from running, my running partner still seems to want to get his daily jaunt. He doesn't understand the concept of "everything in moderation" -- this goes for milkbones too.

So today instead of going for a run, I asked the one question that actually gets Kooper's

attention (that question is this: "Where's your leash?") and both of them went ape. Off we went.

It was a good walk (them walking me for most of it). I wanted to measure how far it was around our loop for future outdoor training purposes.

The road is paved half way, and the other is dirt with potholes the size of small lakes since the snow has been melting with the warmer than normal temperatures we've been fortunate

enough to have. We all came back splashed with mud -- some of us more than others. The Aussie seems to attract mud to various parts of his body that is impossible to get to clean off. No squirrels were spotted on today's walk, so there was no dragging of anyone through the mud, luckily - since it would have been me.

The Nike+ sensor said that, using the short cut, the trip was 2.67 miles. Heading around the long way will surely be over 5k's and as soon as the weather takes a turn for the better I'm weaning off the treadmill and hitting the pavement on the weeks that I'm working out of my home office. This should help with the 'shock factor' for my knees.

The weather, however, doesn't appear to want to cooperate, as the weather folks are calling for more snow starting tonight with no end in sight. I blame it on the groundhog who didn't see his shadow last week and jinxed us with six more weeks of winter. If I saw the little bastard today I would have let the dog chase him around a little bit. Maybe next time.

My Running Partner

Research shows that having a buddy to work out with makes you less likely to wank when it's time to put on the running shoes and head out for that daily jaunt.

Now that the Master Cleanse is over (thank God for solid food, although I will be doing that again later in the year), I need to get back on the program for the upcoming 5k. So today we had pre-meditated running on the brain. Unbeknownst to my running partner (pictured here) we went into the office a tad early so we could escape while the sun was still out and hit the pavement. Cesar Milan says you should walk your dog for 45 minutes to an hour a day, every day, - so this was going to be a three bird/one stone kind of thing. Exercise for the boy; exercise for Mom; testing the "Joe" theory.

Kooper and I took off from the townhouse to a new paved path that we discovered a few days ago. With high hopes of running along Beaver Creek for miles on end, we were pretty much discouraged to find out the path ended (abruptly) at about the half mile mark and into a nature park with a big sign that said, "No Dogs." The nerve of some people. Luckily, the trail had two sides to it, so we checked out the other stretch, only to meet the same, disappointing end. Short trail to nowhere apparently. We might have to crash the track at the Nike campus if the weather holds out.

We did get some good running time in, and as the sun was setting, we headed back. There are a few major quirks to having a four-legged jogging partner:

• Abrupt stops when sudden smells catch his attention.
• Abrupt lunges when his mortal enemy (the squirrel) has been spotted in the adjacent nature park and he already has momentum on his side.
• More abrupt stops to pee on every plant, bush or shrub that might just carry the scent of another dog.
• Heaven forbid we actually pass another dog.

Then there's the unpleasantness of having to use the little baggie. There really is no dignified way to jog, holding a leash in one hand and a bag of dog poo in the other. That pretty much was the decided factor to just walk instead. Luckily, this event happened at the end of the our jaunt.

And as for the "Joe theory:"

My friend and upcoming 5k co-conspirator Joe, while usually full of it, always states that it's harder to run outside than it is running on a treadmill. He mocks my treadmill runs and states that they "don't count" since they are not outside on the pavement and in the elements. Well, I can tell you two things. 1/ He's definitely full of it, as I still sweat and burn the same calories whether I'm indoors or out and 2/ He, shockingly enough, was correct about the pavement part.

The prognosis: while the treadmill gives quite a bit, even on an incline, pavement is rather unkind to my 39 year old knees (they weren't exactly the greatest to begin with). I did like being outside and running with changing scenery and it was nice to incorporate Koop into the event, so both have their benefits. Plus, when it rains and snows, as it does in both Portland and Bend, the treadmill will continue to be my training weapon of choice.

With a little more practice running on pavement (and some sort of support), like anything, it's bound to get easier. As for my running partner? Well, he's been sacked out since we got back. Maybe there's something to this whole "walking your dog thing" afterall.

Superbowl Sunday - otherwise known as Day 8

This was my view a few years ago while watching the Superbowl -- the scoreboard from my seat at Alltel Stadium while basking in the warm Florida sunshine, eating oh-so-bad-for-you food and sipping champagne. And every year since we've either gone to a party, had a party or made our way to a nice Sports pub to watch the big game which always meant things like chicken wings, nachos, and (my personal favorite football beverage) beer. Ah, glory days.

This year my view is going to be slightly different, not to mention my choice of food & drink (just the thought of the tea is giving me stomach cramps). It is Day 8 of the Master Cleanse and I'm feeling fine, other than the occasional missing of food and boredom that comes from not eating anything solid. Only a few more days to go until I can get back to things like a good Vietnamese soup.

Rachel has decided to go to her brother in law's for a little Superbowl get-together, which is really brave on Day 8, considering the last time she did the cleanse she made it to Day 8. Seriously, if I saw a Seven-Layer dip I'd dunk my entire head into the bowl -- forget the nachos (and dignity). Who could blame you given that kind of temptation? I have decided to barricade myself in my house and avoid society in general. It's worked for me the entire week, so another couple of days is going to be a breeze.

When reading the book, it states that some people experience some sort of zen like state on Day 8, as the serious toxins start to be expelled. Sounds appealing doesn't it? No Zen moments for me, just a few stomach rumbles. There is nothing enlightening about that. Maybe you get so faint from not eating food you think it's some sort of shift in conscienceness.

On the up side, I am down 10 lbs from the start date one week ago. Bonus. I haven't been running (afraid I'll pass out and fly off the back of the treadmill) but I have been getting some exercise on my Wii Fit. Nothing like doing a little log jumping and boxing to get out a little stress and get your mind off of the fact that you haven't eaten in a week (and it seems to be working).

Like spending time on the Wii fit, it's all about keeping busy and keeping my eye on the prize (prize = food). So today, I will watch the Superbowl, embrace the Oregon sunshine, and watch all the commercials (minus the ones about food), and live vicariously through my friends who are celebrating, while I drink yet more lemonade cleansing mix and wonder when I'll get hit next with stomach pains bad enough to make me think I am about to give birth to a baby elephant. And all of this with a 70 lb Labrador on my lap. This will most definitely be a Superbowl to remember.