Wednesday, January 25, 2012

No Milk for My Cereal

(This was actually written last week. The delay in posting further supports how awful it was)

I've just had a god awful past few days. 

Let's recap, shall we?
Come on, hop on the crazy train.

Saturday's 11-mile run was actually not bad;
however, I must say Boo to Gu.

My first encounter with this flavored dog slobber was just about 1 year ago.
It was my first half marathon.
I kid you not the guy that ran next to me had 10 strapped to his gadgety belt with 18 bottles of water. 

At first I was laughing.
Like, what a total goober.
But then I was like, wait a minute...
maybe mambo man knows some sort of secret.
He'll probably pass me with this energy-in-a-packet miracle.
He has every flavor to please whatever palate may come about during this trot.

So the first Gu station I came to, I sucked one down,
and immediately spit it back out.
I mean, who serves black cherry anything... ever?
I would also like to take this opportunity to announce to every race function ever:
Lemon-lime Gatorade is grossy-pants. I'll take orange, thanks.

But that was a half marathon.
This is a full marathon. 
I need fuel.
I need a punch of energy every hour.
I need to be able to run 26.2 miles without passing out.
But I do NOT need sugary boogers in a plastic shooter.
I do NOT need Gu.

Well, that's what I learned anyhow.
I received it for Christmas as a gift, 
and I thought, "Eh, might as well give this tri-berry a whirl."
So, around mile 6, I did just that. 

One word:
I was instantly like the roadrunner.
I had to talk myself into running slower.
After all, I still had 5 miles left and 5 levels of the garage.

I could feel it leaving my system around mile 9.
Roadrunner shortly turned back into regular Kellyn.
I started to notice how badly I wanted water,
but as soon as I tasted water,
I didn't want it. 

THEN, at mile 10 I had to stop to take a few breaths.
Was this nausea? Am I dehydrated? 
Ok, keep going.
WAIT. Take a few more breaths...
Keep going.
Oh my word.
Am I going to hurl? 

I had to walk the .5 miles home because I was literally going to get sick.
Stupid Gu.

Sunday wasn't that awful. 
Give me a glass of wine and an awards show and I generally have very little to complain about.

But Monday came with a vengeance. 
I had several apron orders to complete since I was sick the week before.
Mother Myrtle was being a little testy mama.
The tension was off? The thread was too tight? Was the bobbin right? Was there dust? Did the needle that broke last week get lodged in there somewhere? Do I need to oil this piece? What the heck does this button do? Was I JUST A TOTAL AMATEUR WHO HAD NO BUSINESS SEWING APRONS IN THE FIRST PLACE???
Google DID NOT get what I was asking.
I just cried. and cried. and cried. 
I called my mother who offered several helpful options.
They were ALL wrong.
There was nothing that could be done. 

On top of this obvious travesty, 
I had to ice both of my knees. 
One knee: 15 minutes.
Next knee: 15 minutes.
Switch x 2 hours.

I decided to step away completely from everything. 
I watched The United States of Tara,
which entirely spoke to me.

One minute I am super awesome mom who is good a disciplining and always open for a hug. Then, I'm craze-o fundraising Kellyn, who starts planning blueprints for some great development that she's going to build to save the planet. Then, I'm a wife, who wants to be sweet and flirty. Then, I'm some running woman who wears a watch, a knee brace and orthotics in her shoes and says things like, "I need to run 8:21 miles in order to qualify for this wave to get my half marathon PR." Then I'm a gossiping sister/daughter or a "No he didn't!" girlfriend. And then I'm this apron-making maniac.


So ALL OF THESE got the best of me. 
I wanted to explode.
I wanted a break.
I thought it was over after my glass of wine and a full night's rest...

Then Tuesday morning came.

There wasn't enough creamer for the coffee.
NO milk for my cereal.
No bread for my peanut butter.

I was so mad that my choice food items were unavailable,
that I didn't eat.
Out. Of. Spite.
I was a total toddler.
Then I was getting sucker punches from everyone.
Home. Bills. Work.
I couldn't escape the hate.

When I went for my run to escape the crazy train,
I found myself totally fatigued and gasping for water.
My spiteful self did not properly eat or hydrate,
and my body was P.O'ed.
My easy 3-miler was not so easy.

Lesson's learned:

- Gu is not for me, but I need to figure out an alternative
- I need to take a major chill pill
- I must eat and drink, regardless of temper tantrum
- Sometimes, a spool of thread is a bad egg
- My mother is a very patient woman
- My husband is a very patient man
- I need to work on my patience
and finally:
- I am doing my part in saving the world, one mile at a time

Tomorrow is a new day,
another run,
a new perspective,
and another chance to find my peace in this crazy life.

Cheers to my other mother runners who know exactly what I'm talking about.

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