Photos compliments of Allyson, who is launching her photography career :). Check out her blog here. We had our Girls Group Annual Christmas Party and it was FUN :). Love my girls and so blessed to have them in my life.
I really really really wanted to call this blog "Ovary Crunchers" but thought "hmm, is that really appropriate?" So I made it the first line of my blog instead :D. Read on, you'll get to it...
I had a, we'll call it "back episode", on Tuesday. And to start off, NO, it was not related to my running a mile on Saturday. How do I know? 1)Unless running can cause joint inflammation in one's left hand as well as the back, this was totally related to the fantastic action of my white blood cells attacking my connective tissue (ie my disease) 2) I have been running for the past month, for comparable durations to what I did in the mile, and never experienced any issues- these running episodes were in addition to 3-4 workouts per week (stationary bike, elliptical, aquajog/swim) that I have been logging, so I really don't think the running caused this. However, I will of course, continue to pay meticulous attention to every minute sign that my body throws when I start running again. Believe me, this gal does not want to be on the active lifestyle sidelines.
That being said- I woke up on Tuesday morning unable to bend my fingers on my left hand (an occasional occurrence for me, so that didn't worry me). However, my inability to stand without seeing stars and triggering my gag reflex from the pain did worry me. I crawled to the medicine cabinet (praise the Lord I keep the potent stuff in a lower drawer), downed a Vicadin (hate that stuff) and a muscle relaxer and proceeded to sob myself into a drug induced stupor. (Big thanks to the roomie who worked from home in case I needed something- thankfully no bonding moments with a bedpan were required of her). By the afternoon, I could hobble fairly well and I continued to improve into the evening.
Of course, once I could speak without drug-induced slurring, I called my awesome chiropractor/PT inflictor to schedule a torture, er, PT session the next day.
On Wednesday, I was THANKFULLY able to move around pretty well, some limping and I was doing the whole stand-up-like-an-old-lady routine (no offense meant to the elderly out there). I headed to the Vault of Torture, or more commonly known as my chiropractor/PT inflictor. Where I proceeded to regress to my pre-run-by-two-months-PT-treatments of...you got it, OVARY CRUNCHERS.
What are ovary crunchers? The most hated of all hated PT therapies (Dr.A, if you are reading this, I am very thankful for all your help. Really.). My chiro has me lay on my side on the torture table and she proceeds to grip my side with both hands as hard as humanly possible and dig her fingers into my belly, attempting push my ovaries through my lower vertebrae in the process. Whilst my ovaries are being crushed, I then have to swing my leg up, and then as back as far as I can go without passing out, and then down. This HURTS. Tears are shed. Why must I do ovary crunchers? Well, apparently, when my body experiences the Big Bad Inflammation, it goes into self-defense mode (i.e. every muscle in my body attempts to curl up, fetal position). One of the most trouble-causing culprits is the psoas muscle (red arrow is pointing to it below).
Thank you so much to all of you who have been praying for me, encouraging me through emails, texts, and notes. I am so thankful for your friendship and appreciate your words. You all ROCK! :)
Surprise! :) :) :)
You read the title correctly. Read on for the whole story…
I started “running” again on Nov. 7th, 3 months and 3 weeks from the day I spent in the ER sobbing to the doctor about the scary back pain I was experiencing and that started a bazillion doctor visits, scans, weeks spent laying on my back, PT sessions, lots of tears-grimaces-winces-groans, baby steps, small flickers of light…you get the point…on with the story.
On Nov 7th I was on the Seabrook trails and feeling good, so I upped my pace and put more weight on my footfalls…not even sure if you can call it jogging, let alone running…I did that for 10 seconds. It felt the same as walking (i.e., still felt that dullish right side back pain, but it didn’t get worse). A bit later, I did another 10 seconds, with more weight on my footfalls. Felt the same as the first 10 seconds. So then I did two 30 second jogs about 15 minutes apart. Oh wow did it feel AMAZING to move my legs like that again! And yes, I told my chiropractor/PT inflictor and she approved :).
Here are the walk/run combos I have logged since Nov 7th:
Walk 1 mile, run 30 seconds, walk 1 mile, run 30 seconds
Walk 1 mile, run 30 seconds, walk 1 mile, run 45 seconds
Walk 1 mile, run 1 minute, walk 1 mile, run 1 minute
Walk 1 mile, run 2 minutes , walk 1 mile, run 3 minutes, walk 1 mile
Walk 1 mile, run 2 minutes, walk some more, run 2 minutes, walk some more, run 2 minutes (total 3.1 miles)
Walk 1 mile, run 2 minutes, walk some more, run 3 minutes, walk some more, run 2 minutes (total 3.1 miles)
Walk 1 mile, run 5 minutes!, walk 2 miles
Walk .25 miles, run for 7 minutes, walk, total 2 miles
Walking .25 miles, run for 9 minues, walk, total 2 miles
And TODAY, walk 2 miles, run 1 mile :) (~11:30 pace)
I bawled tears of joy during the first 3 minute run I did. Bawling and running with a HUGE grin on my face and chanting “thankyouLordthankyouLordthankyouLord”.
(followed by a quickly squashed mental wail of “oh my gosh I have completely lost my cardio fitness…being honest here :) ).
The walking was done at a pretty decent clip, 15:15-16:00 minute pace, with the runs at a slow-for-my-usual-pace of 11 minute/mile. In each of these combos, when I start running, I feel the same “not quite right” right back pain feeling- it’s not truly painful, just annoying. Then, as I have increased the run durations, the feeling almost goes away, and I feel pretty much pre-July normal.
So this morning, my running buddy Lisa, who had said she would walk this race with me, actually got to RUN the last mile with me, and I crossed the finish line…RUNNING… ::INSERT BIGGEST GRIN EVER::
I. RAN.
Thank.You.Lord.
I was nervous this Christmas decorating season...a whole house to decorate...and my puny lil pile of Christmas decorations leftover from my apartment ::gulp::
Have no fear, Black Friday is here! I scored some great more-than-half-price-off decorations and a great Christmas tree. Along with some creativity (fishing line, hooks, 1/2 price fabric, and festively wrapped cardboard boxes), I think I achieved the festive, yet-non-Griswoldesque look I was going for. The outside of the house leaves much to be desired, only a few poinsettas and a wreath, but next year folks, next year there will lights.
So here you go, Christmas Decorations 2010 in all their holiday beautifulness :)
I loathe traveling anywhere with my cats. I really really do.
Why? Short answer (some of you have heard the full tales):
Bacon pooping in his carrier and prompting an immediate pull-over-at-nearest-gas-station-and-try-not-to-breathe-until-you-get-there response
Eggs screaming (yes) so much that I let her out of her carrier and she then proceeds to crawl from the backseat, over the drivers seat and my shoulder, down my front, trying her best to wedge herself between the gas and brake pedals.
Bacon ripping a cardboard carrier (stupid idea) airhole enough to push his head through, and then toppling face first from the seat to the car floor.
So, I was not looking forward to traveling the 15 minutes to the vet with both of them in my car. The reason for the vet? Nothing serious- just been awhile since they had shots and they are both fat and I need help getting them to lose some weight.
Claire attempted to help me get them in their carriers on Wednesday, but it was an epic fail when Bacon rocketed out of his carrier before she could slam the door shut and hid under my bed. The vet graciously rescheduled me for Friday.
Yesterday, I pulled out the big guns and had my friend, Moose, come help me. She's great with cats.
The cats ended up in the carrier, but not before Moose almost got her hand amputated by Bacon's flailing front legs and the mattress and boxspring on my bed were removed to actually get Bacon out from under the bed. When I closed the door on the last carrier, Moose looked at me and said "Wow. I have NEVER seen cats struggle so much. That was pretty bad". Finally, the reason for my loathing-traveling-with-my-animals has been recognized by somone other than me.
I drive the 15 stressful, ear-drum splitting minutes (my cats scream, they really do) to the vet. At which, my cats proceed to demonstrate that they are not really domestic house cats but sabertooth tigers that were undiscovered, spitting, growling, cowering in the most inaccesible corner in the office, etc. The only way to get the blood, give the vaccines, shave Eggs, etc was to sedate them. Both of them. Seriously, who has cats that need sedated for a CHECKUP!? ::raises hand:: So I leave them for a few hours in the very capable hands of the vet...who has been laughing through the Eggs and Bacon Show, whilst I am practically in tears and horribly embarrassed by their uncharacteristic behavior.
3 hours later and my holiday money now spent at the vets, I bring home two yowling and seriously ticked off cats who, even though it's almost 24 hours later, are still hissing at me whenever I walk past them, but it's okay if they bite me, because they've been vaccinated.
I just can't wait to see how they handle this diet food. I'm afraid I'll wake up one morning missing a big toe because Sabertooth Bacon (or Eggs) has nibbled it off...
I had a dream last night that I was competing in a triathlon...after I ran a half-marathon. Apparently, I am an over-achiever even in my dream state.
'Course, I didn't end up doing the triathlon, 'cause I hadn't finished packing my transition bag the night before and my bike tires weren't pumped up since it had been sitting in the garage for the last 5 months...and I was stressing out about being able to get out of the transition area before they closed it and was freaking out to my running/training buddy Lisa about it...this is the second triathlon dream I have had since being sidelined and the location of the tri was the same...some random lake in the middle of the woods...it's quite a pretty locale with a smooth-as-glass lake that looks fun to swim...
This is what happens when you cheer on a friend who is running a half-marathon with your running buddy earlier in the day and then talk about marathons with friends over dinner...and you are currently experiencing a moratorium on tri-ing/running. ::chuckle::
Least I can run/tri in my dreams, right? :)
