Mother, Runner, Nurse

It is late.

2011-04-02T23:41:00.000-07:00

I have Pandora (John Hiatt radio streaming) for company. Am doing this and that, knocking around, way too late to be up, but content to be finishing laundry, putting up dishes, drinking a little wine and making a little tiny bit of headway into the chaos that is my new home. I am calm and quiet. I don't get these moments often.

I am running a little bit. My knee is swollen and stiff, but it doesn't hurt. I use pain as my bellweather. I have no pain, so I will continue to do baby runs. Every single one is a gift. The MRI says I am bone on bone in my right knee. I don't hurt, and I am sure not telling her about it, but I make myself take stock now and again. Well, maybe more than now and again. I am pain free when I run. But in my daily life I am really stiff with limited range of motion in my right knee. I know, a new consult is in order. I know. But tonight nothing hurts, and I can bend down and pick stuff up. I take it where I can get it.

I took Small People to Disney after school yesterday. Smallest of all, now that she has conquered her fear of small roller-coasters had a high-hankering to ride the Thunder Mountain etc coaster. So much fun to hear the screams and laughter on the ride. Small one wanted to ride Space Mountain. 2 hour line. Intense ride. She loved it, but didn't like the headache she had afterwards (from her head knocking around -- mine too). I think Space Mountain will be a good memory for us. We will willingly give up our spots in line for the next space travelers.

I have started doing Zumba. I know. I know. Cult, not running , cult, not running. Not real exercise, cult, not running.

It is fun. No, it isn't just fun. It is really, really fun. I have terminal white person disease, so I can't dance like everyone else, but I still have a whole lot of fun. I kind of look forward to the class. My life is one of those that has no cushion. We live hard-core all the time. We just do. My kids don't ask for the newest and the best, they don't ever ask for the latest and the greatest, for the next new thing. We don't live that way.

Every other Saturday, we can Zumba. Badly, of course, but that isn't the point. Small People can get in there and dance, and pop, and well, dance as best they can. And they can do it next to me, or in front or me, or waaaay in front of me. They can't follow the instructor for crud. But they try and they have fun and they work. It counts. It counts.

I am trying to make a good life happen for us. It is just me making a life for them. The only thing I can so is try.

So I stream Pandora...John Hiatt. It helps me. It calms me, and therefore it lets me help them. It is easy to be clear-thinking when I am calm and quiet.

Crush of the week.

2011-03-30T14:12:00.000-07:00

I have a new one, which is always a good thing, because it means people are stepping up to the task at hand in a big way.

My hospital, recently, lost it's heart surgeons. We had two cardio-thoracic-vascular surgeons (both of them really good) up and decamp to another hospital. They left for lots of reasons, major dinero being first and foremost. Anyway, after a nation-wide search, we have, as of the beginning of the year, two new surgeons. Now, we just had to deal with the vascular butcher last summer -- the doc (lower case) who caused complete mayhem. Understandably, all of us, from the CVOR, to SICU, to CVTU, were apprehensive. Well, maybe a little more than that. Our ARNP was feeling out of the loop. The anxiety in the staff was palpable.

January, 2011. Dr D has assumed CVT responsibility, all of it. Dr W is out of the game for a bit, because he broke one of his fingers. Everyone knows the story behind it, and it endears him to us all. Sight unseen. It is that kind of story. Dr D makes a point of rounding and meeting all the nurses -- all million of us. It has got to be overwhelming, but he is gracious, and seems kind, calm and caring. And he talks, really talks, to his patients. That is huge. It doesn't hurt that when he writes orders his last is always, "Thank you kindly". He is the kind of Doc that nurses will go the extra, extra mile for. That doesn't happen often.

But, my crush of the week goes to Dr W. He actually told an under 50 year old, 2 pack a day smoker, 12-pack+ a day drinker that he wasn't going to operate on the patient's heart. The blockages weren't critical, and maybe lifestyle modification was in order. He re-consulted cardiology for medical management. CRUSH.OF.THE.WEEK. You don't take your meds (all of which, but plavix, on the $4 pharmacy list) but you continue to smoke and excessively drink, and you end up with yet another heart attack. Bypass is your last option. It takes a strong, confident doc to put the patient's problems back on the patient. Lifestyle modification. Hard to do, but necessary for the future in successful heart bypass. The message: We will fix you, but you have to invest in yourself first. Do your homework and we will do our part.

One instance of our tax dollars not being mis-spent.

Crush of the week. (and Dr W calls me by name, so he gets extra points.) I thought our CVTU program was going to take a major hit. I was wrong. We had a very small speed bump. I expect great things going forward.

And, because this is first and foremost a running blog: I ran 5 miles yesterday and 4 miles today. First runs since I decided to move to a new house. It isn't much, but it counts. I am sore, but my knee isn't complaining. I have DWD to get ready for and a Monkey to run. I take the little bits where I can get them.

I have a Crush

2011-03-21T20:28:00.000-07:00

I have a friend on a running site who designated the "Crush of the Week". I now have one. Dr D., a hospitalist of the female persuasion, internal medicine on-call. Crush. Of. The. Week. (Maybe the MONTH. Or longer. It depends on who else steps up.)

Malingering. It means what it says. Docs shy away from saying it, because our society is so stupidly litigious. Nurses, not so much. Nurses don't get sued so easily, therefore we can call a spade a spade. We see patients all the time who love being sick for sake of being sick. Some people just like being in the hospital. They love the attention, and can go on forever about all their ailments, real or perceived. They know the buzzwords, they know the system, they take real dollars and real health-care away from people who really need those services.

I had a patient that no one would get rid of. NOTHING was wrong with this man, outside of his normal state of health. He just kept saying the right words, therefore the docs kept working him up for things that weren't wrong with him. Malingering. Walking the halls, hounding the nurses, being inappropriate with other patients, taking advantage of the nursing assistants. Everyone knew that he was fine, but no doc would stand up to him. Lawsuits, you know. Malpractice -- the driving force behind healthcare.

Anyway, Dr. D walks in and discharges the guy (with no narcotics). 8 hours later, after much drama (yelling, crying, wailing, begging, berating) he finally leaves. We send out surveys so that patients can tell us how good of a job they think we did. I don't think that Dr. D will fare very well.

Crush. Of. The. Week.

"WHEN IT DON"T COME EASY" (PATTY GRIFFIN)

2011-02-07T20:01:00.000-08:00

Night-time, all alone at home music.

Monday night meltdown.

2011-02-07T19:05:00.000-08:00

The single Mother, Runner, Nurse thing is hard. Lately it is harder still, as I am making progress in our lives and buying a house. I have a 7 year old and a 9 year old to help me. Off and on, when his classes permit, I have a 19 year old to help. Mostly, though, I have me.

How can I complain about buying a house that will be a home for my little family? How can I complain about making a place that will be a touchstone for all of my children? How can I complain about being able to afford such a luxury? How can I complain about providing us a home and maybe, (Good Lord willing and the water don't rise) a dog for my Small People. How can I complain?

I can't. I am blessed. I know that. I am just tired, and worried, and stressed. I have to do this all by myself. The mortgage, the closing, the painting, the flooring, the moving...it is all on me. I am good with it. But, wow. It all has to be done soon. And I have to do it. It really sucks that the guy I was spending time with chose to walk away right now because I am unappreciative. The loss of support is huge, but I am going to make it anyway.

Super Bowl Sunday --messy post

2011-02-06T19:58:00.000-08:00

I ran today, outside, for the first time in a long while. Not a good run, but who am I, anymore, to say what a good run is? I finished. I ran outside. As of 10:15 pm, I am still walking. So, a BIG checkmark in the win column.

I love pro football. I just do. And, as a single mom who loves football, I am passing this on to my small people because rooting for and being invested in the home team is important. It grounds you. It gives you roots. It gives you a reason to connect to the city/town.

I am trying to give my small ones the best parts of me. I am teaching them to cook. ( I can make something out of nothing. Give me a few staples and some castoff stuff in the fridge, and I can make something you will want to eat again. Except that you can't, because I don't keep track of what I do.) Not really a recipe kind of girl, here. I am trying to pass that on to the small people. Katie can, carefully--under close supervision-- chop things. She cannot mince herbs, but she is killer with carrots, peppers, parsnips and the like. She knows how to saute, but still needs some help with the strength of her utensil. She is only 9, after all...her hands are only so big. But she is learning to turn meat and veggies, and to take them off heat at the right time. WIN!!!

The best part of the Super Bowl is the party. Today our party was just the 3 of us, but we had a loud TV, lots of football and snacks. The snacks were really good, but the commercials? Ummm.

Fajitas and fish tacos at half-time (yeah...dinner for the next week) were wonderful. Katie helped. And Small People thought the Black-eyed Peas half-time show was really cool, too. All in all, a Super day. It may be only us, but our "us" is all sorts of fabulous.

Night music for tonight

2011-02-05T22:37:00.000-08:00

Simple running

2011-02-05T11:38:00.000-08:00

I have run 5 miles every non-work day since the end of January. I am running indoors at present, but that might have to change. The treadmill deck is soft, which makes the idea of running on asphalt and concrete a bit frightening. However, the boredom-factor of running indoors make running outside highly enticing. Perhaps tomorrow I will give it a whirl.

So, apparently I can run again. Not far and not fast, but it counts. The orthopod? He can go screw.

Vaudeville.

2011-02-01T18:57:00.000-08:00

Remember those performers in the old vaudeville shows that spin plates? They run back and forth frantically wiggling sticks to keep a bunch of plates on the top of those sticks from crashing down. Lately, I am that person. Actually, I am always that person, just with fewer plates. Right now, my plate complement is full. Buying a house. Getting a loan. Moving. Starting to run again. Mother. Nurse. Dealing with my daughters' deteriorating relationship with the step-mom. Spin and wiggle...wiggle and spin.

I lost one plate. I no longer am seeing the guy that I was kind of seeing. He needed more than I could give, and I couldn't give him what he wanted. So, he walked away. It's okay, actually. I just am not in a place where I can be somebody's someone. The timing sucked (he is really good with tools and fixing and all that handyman stuff), but the relief of not having to give to yet another person is palpable. I guess that means I am okay with it.

I ran five miles again today. Legs were tired from yesterday, and it wasn't as good as a run as yesterday's. However, I ran five miles today, and I can still walk without much pain or sponginess. That's money, baby.

It Is Almost Midnight.

2011-01-31T21:36:00.000-08:00

In just a few minutes it will be a new month, February. I started this blog last year, in February. I suppose it is time for a retrospective. I know. I am late to the party. Most people do the assessment, resolution, betterment plan in late December. Or no later than Jan 3 (when the hangover is really, really gone and the bowl games are over). But, I am not really that way. The people who really know and love me get this about me, but only one person in my life has been able to put my "sarah-ish-ness" into words.

I took Modern European History when I was a senior in high school, at Chatham Hall in Virginia (girls' boarding school...awesome place. I still love it). Modern European History was NOT what I was expecting. Renaissance? Middle Ages? What did that have to do with MODERN?? Anyway, there were five of us in the class. Five. 5. Sooo....bluffing was not an option. Dr Reilly knew every single one of us flat out cold. Tests were several short answer questions and an essay. Rarely in college did I have exams that were that focused or that difficult. Rarely. I sweated those exams, probably as much as I should have. I was given a very narrow topic, one that would tax my knowledge of a subject, and I would have to deliver a well thought out argument.

Dr. Reilly, one day after handing us back our test results (to all 5 of us), had me stay after class. I had gotten an A on the exam, and he had never asked to talk to me after class before. It wasn't worrisome, it was just strange, odd. I looked at him, with his straight, dark, bowl-cut hair and his round glasses -- with his tweedy jacket with the worn elbow patches, incredibly intelligent and knowledgeable, but yet willing to teach teenagers -- and wondered what the hell he had to say to me.

That man captured the whole of me in a couple of sentences. He got me. He understood how I see things. His words to me, after class: "I always look forward to reading your essays. I know how everyone else in the class is going to answer the question, except for you. You always answer the question sideways." It wasn't a criticism, it was a compliment of the highest nature. A thinker who complimented a student on her thoughts. For almost 30 years I have carried that compliment with me. I have carried the knowledge that at least someone understood that i see things sideways, and that sideways isn't bad....it is interesting.

This year. The goal and the treat. Goal. I guess there are two. Buy a house (which will happen in the next few weeks...along with the flooring and yadda yadda),
get my knee well enough to do Dirt and run the Monkey. (notice I didn't mention time...that part is over for me. all good)

Treat. No brainer. A week in Sanibel, making Sanibel memories for the kids. What could be better than that?

Oh. I ran 5 miles today, with one water-stop. Slow, but steady, says the turtle. And I am walking pain-free tonight. HA.

Lola (December 2010)

2011-01-31T20:31:00.000-08:00

Lola has been a resident of CVTU for nearly 4 months. She is one of the lingering remnants of the surgeon who should not have been. She is a fem-pop gone wrong, but gone wrong due as much to her own hyper-coagulation problems as to her surgical fiasco. She may have been kind of doomed from the start, but who knows?

Lola came into our ED with a cold right foot and intermittent claudication. She was dually assessed and it was determined that she needed to have the circulation restored to her leg by a femoral-popliteal artery bypass and graft. She came to my floor and struggled to heal. The bypass failed and not long after, Lola had a below-the-knee amputation of her right leg. Then, much of the re-vascularization of the upper leg was compromised, and Lola had her right thigh filleted open like a sturgeon. It was one of the biggest leg wounds I have ever seen, and one of the most painful. Wound care nurses changed the wound-vac M-W-F, and it took them close to 2 hours each time. Lola bled and bled. And bled more than that. She formed clots the size of softballs under the vac film. She got countless units of blood and blood product. And of course, with all this pain, she got addicted to dilaudid.

A couple of surgeries later, by the plastic surgery guy (nicest guy in the world...) and we thought Lola was going to be able to go home and get better. Then her amputation incision got necrotic. 3 surgeries and 2 months later, Lola has a nicely healing mid-thigh amputation. She is off all IV pain medication. She takes a high dose of oxycodone, but she takes much less than she used to. She like to stay up late, and sleep in. When she is in my team of patients, I don't wake her before 10am. There is nothing that Lola has to do before 10am, kinda like there is nothing College-Boy has to do in the morning when he is on break.

Lola moans and cries. When she is in pain, the entire floor knows it. She wants her Mommy to help her. But in these last 2 weeks, Lola doesn't cry anymore. She looks forward to going home. I was her nurse the day that the ortho guys told her that she was going to have an above the knee amputation, that she wasn't healing, and that her dreams of a certain kind of recovery of life weren't going to happen. That was a hard day. But, she is my age and she chose wisely for a woman my age. She chose to continue the battle.

I don't ever, ever, EVER get attached to patients. I learned the hard way more than once. I plan, God laughs. He gives me, no, he gives my floor, Lola. I took care of her this weekend. But at this point, I'm not her nurse anymore. I am her friend, and she is mine. Her fiance (oh yeah...he has hung in for all of this and that makes me just adore him) brought jelly beans, cause Lola had a craving. 'cept I ate most of them. It was a quiet weekend for me, and since I wasn't actively saving lives, I pulled up a chair in Lola's room and we watched TV together. Don't tell my manager. But those are the kind of moments that help a long-term patient recover. Those are the kinds of moments that help her nurses stay sane.

Well, Happy New Year. 2011. Geez.

2011-01-31T20:21:00.000-08:00

Yeah, so I lasted posted about, oh, 2 years ago. Right around the time the Uber-Ortho drained my knee and life was good. (That lasted about a week. My knee and I, with the full-court press of 20ccs of fluid drained and some steroids infused felt fine and dandy for a week. Maybe 2 -- its Christmastide and I am feeling generous.)

The difference in strength in my quads was remarkable enough that the PT and the Uber-Ortho commented on it. Which kind of means nothing. But the muscle wasting in my right quad made cycling, well, interesting. The bike "skittered" underneath me. I am a novice rider, and a single rider. But I passed someone doing 22mph (not fast for most people), and I almost bought the farm. My bike skated on me. The more I rode, the more it did it. They tell me that it skates because one leg is so much stronger than the other. *sigh* I stopped cycling because my bike scares me now. I hate that. I really hate that.

So, 6-week follow up with Uber-Ortho. He says, looking not at me but at my MRI from the initial injury, that my PCL isn't an issue anymore. What I have is arthritis and some severe cartilage damage in my right knee. All my issues are related to that tissue damage. (Let me say that my knees never hurt me until I spilled from my bike. I said as much. His response was, "I didn't have any gray hair until I got my first gray hair.) He talks "when" not "if" about a knee replacement. When. Partial replacement. Perhaps not total. He says, not looking at me, only at the old MRI, that it is a kind of race between whether my "ticker" or my knee gives out first. Seriously? My heart or my knee. I don't have any cardiac issues, and am a healthy, active, middle-aged female. I have no concerns about my heart. Apparently, although we have talked about it before, he has forgotten that I am a cardiac nurse. But he is the ortho expert and talks about WHEN. When my knee gets replaced. He says that you only get so many stides, and that I have gone through mine. 20 minutes looking up and down and backwards and forwards though that scan. And you know what??? I am bone on bone in a small place in my right knee. But don't tell my knee, because she doesn't know it. Per the MRI, I am supposed to have a whole lotta pain going on. But. I. Don't.

I have seen those films. I have seen that cartilage loss. It is kind of impressive. It happened before I fell from my bike, and has never, ever bothered me when I run. Still, it is there. I think that if I am a WHEN and not an IF about a knee surgery, I am going to follow that slide in sideways philosophy. If I have to give it up, it will be on my terms. I have seen the MRI films. I know the score. I miss running. I miss it like the loss of a friend, or a lover. It is my decision. I choose to not go gently into that good night.

So. 1/1/11. 6+ miles. Ran more than I walked. Maybe 4 miles running, 2+ walking---mostly because I am not in shape to run. But, I did it. And, since it might be the LAST time I did it, I loved it. I loved the lake. I loved the birds, and I loved the people. I made sure to love this run/walk.

1/3/11. Slow, with walk breaks, mostly because I am so out of shape. I last really ran in September. Now I am running with a possibly delicate knee. Well, it is delicate. I just choose to ignore that.

1/3/11. Walked a bunch of miles in Epcot. I got some unexpected money for Christmas, and decided to do the Disney thing this year. We live in Florida, about an hour from Disney and never go. Not anymore. Smallest of All had a school field-trip to Epcot in December. She just adored it. A Princess Day anyway you slice it. So, Small One wanted to experience Epcot, too. Yay again! When I got home, I did some serious icing of my knee.

Onward.

Happy New Year to Everyone!!!!!

The next visit to the Uber-Ortho

2010-11-08T10:51:00.000-08:00

Doc (in Vietnamese accent): "How you now?"

Me: I'm not any better. I can't move my knee, I can't run and I can't cycle. And my knee swells every day. I'm not happy.
Doc: You need to move more. Why you not doing more?
Me: Because I CAN'T. I have no range of motion and a lot of discomfort. I have felt every single step for the past almost 7 weeks.
Doc: Lie back. Tell me when and where it hurts. (Proceeds to bend, twist, wiggle and kind of jerk my knee in all possible positions. I was sweating by the end) Your right leg is much weaker than it was last time. Much weaker.
Doc: Sit in chair. Bend left knee as far as possible. (pause) Now do right knee.
Me: This is as far as it goes (around 90*).
Doc: Pull with hands. As much as you can.
Me: (groaning) This is as far as it goes.
Doc: Back on table. You have fluid in knee and lots of inflammation. I will drain you and give cortisone.
Me: Ummm. OK then.

10 minutes later. The tech comes in and cleans my knee with betadine, and sets out a 60cc syringe with an 18 gauge needle on it. I know this, I use those things. It is a fairly large bore needle. Not trauma large, but....

Me: I don't think I want to watch this.
Tech: We don't really want you to watch, either.
Me: I'm good with that.

10 minutes later. Doc and Tech come in and we are all one big happy family gathered around Sarah's knee.

Me: So, how much is this going to hurt?
Doc: Less than blood draw if you don't move. He hold foot (and Tech grabs hold of my foot). If you don't move, won't hurt. (Inserts needle) Only hurts when people move and then needle move and then that causes pain, but if you don't move, there is little pain. (Massaging my knee all this time) I just need a little time to get fluid out. You feel that now? That is cortisone going in. And now we finished. (I start to move) No, don't move yet. He has to clean you up. Come back and see me in 6 weeks. Don't do too much for a day or too, let cortisone take effect. Oh, and get Physical Therapy. That will be best for you. Make appointment for 6 weeks. (Leaves) For the record, I give blood on a fairly routine basis, and this hurt much less than that. Doc was right.

Me: So, what can I do today?
Tech: (cleaning my knee and applying a lovely bandaid) Anything you want.
Me: Seriously?
Tech: Yeah. I mean, don't go running or cycle 100 miles, but yeah, you can do what you want. Ok, we're all done here. You can put your shoe back on. (Hands me my shoe)
Me: (bending my right knee to put my shoe on) HOLY CATS!!! This is the first time in almost 7 weeks that I can bend my knee enough to get my shoe on! This is amazing!
Tech: (grinning) Yep.
Me: (looking at syringe with lots of yellow fluid in it, about 20 cc's worth) Wow. That's a lot of fluid.
Tech: Yeah, it really is. Knees aren't supposed to have much fluid in them.
Me: Well, thanks for your help. See ya in 6 weeks.

I walked out of that appointment without a limp for the first time in almost 7 weeks. I got into and out of my car without having to manually help my leg. I climbed and descended stairs almost normally. It was simply amazing how much difference draining the excess fluid made in my life. I had been getting concerned that 1) it was all in my head, and 2) I was going to need surgery. Now, I am hoping that physical therapy and a good leash on my "go out and do it until I can't ignore the pain anymore" tendencies will have me up and running again.

I am walking now. I walk as fast as I can for 5-8 miles on my days off. I am going to start getting up in the wee hours to walk 3-4 miles on the days that I work. Walking isn't running, but it is aerobic exercise, and doesn't seem to bother my knee. It bores me, but I don't care. It seems safe and sensible. I am going to start swimming again. I was going to swim today after my walk, but the pool heater was broken, so the pool was closed. I have my bathing suit and goggles in my gym bag, tho. I will walk and swim until I can run again.

I will cycle just as soon as my right leg is stronger. Now that I have the fancy clippy pedals, the difference in leg strength manifests itself in how I ride. I feel like the bike is "skittering" under me sometimes, and it frightens me. I don't want to ride scared, because that is when you fall and get injured. But I am diligently doing my little PT exercises (yeah, I went ahead and made the appt before the doc told me to), and eventually my quads and hammies will be equally robust. And then I will walk and swim and cycle.

I miss running. A lot. For me, it is like losing a best friend. All those early morning, mid-day, and evening miles have gotten me safely through a lot of drama and trauma. People ask me what I think about during all those hours when I am out running. The fact is, I don't really think about anything. I don't dwell, obsess, problem-solve, organize or plan. All sorts of errant thoughts run though my head, and I have a constant tour-guide (Oh, look at the pretty flowers -- I wonder what they are...what kind of car is that...black swans are really neat looking..i hate this stretch of road...i think i may have to pee soon....that is the prettiest house in the world). I have a hard time running when I am really upset, because I can't find my tour-guide. I have learned that for me, running is a "be here now" state. It is a sanctuary of sorts -- a smelly, sweaty, fatiguing sancutary. This is what non-runners don't understand. Running centers my life, it gives me an anchor in my day to day. I am always better, and at my best, when I run.

Hospital Violence

2010-10-31T21:06:00.000-07:00

The Bucs won tonight in a wild game...last decisive play was at 0:06 seconds. BUCS!!!! I love football. I just love it. It is a violent sport, but the violence is expected. There are rules to limit the violent damage. At least the NFL is taking baby steps to protect the players, albeit in a small way. Still, progress is just that.

I am going to have to post about workplace violence soon. Workplace violence in the hospital setting. No one seems to talk about this, but it happens. A lot. If it happened at Wal-Mart, there would be policies and protocols. If it happened at an insurance agency, there would be policies and protocols and probably the police. (Please excuse the alliteration.) If it happens at a hospital, it is just a part of daily procedure. I have been hit, bitten, punched, slapped and called names that would make a sailor blush.

I get bruised and bloodied. I get called hideous names. But I don't get shot. Patients with an agenda save the bullets for the doctors. Sometimes the patient shoots the nurses, but most of the time, they just Saturday Night Special the doc.

Any other place, this is big news. Hospitals -- just part of the daily grind.

Hospital violence. I need to think about this. And I need to talk about this. I have bite marks on my arm. Again. And this is an acceptible risk. Bite marks are all a part of nursing.

Physical injury and physical abuse isn't a part of your job. Why is it an OK part of mine?

I read a book about a Zombie War.

2010-10-25T20:13:00.000-07:00

Max Brooks' World War Z is a decent read. You have to be good and on point with the premise, and you can't really medically dissect anything, but all in all, it is an entertaining book. I wish I had brought it to the beach with me, but then again, since Zombies tend to rise up out of the water (they don't need to breathe or anything -- and apparently they don't need to eat, either, since they can stay locked up or even frozen for a whole lot of time and be none the worse for wear, at least not for Zombies. I just don't understand why they have this compulsion to DEVOUR people? I mean, face it. They don't digest, they don't crap, they just converge on living humans and feast on the poor saps, who, in turn, become Zombies. Albeit Zombies with chunks eaten out of them, but they don't miss those lost bits because they are now Zombies, too. So, my question is: If you stick a Zombie in a locked room -- no escaping, thank you -- with a bunch human fodder, vestal virgins, people who vote for the wrong political party, what will happen? Of course, the Zombie will eat and devour and be insatiable and do what Zombies do, which is consume all of the human flesh and make new Zombies. Therein lies my question. These things don't digest stuff. They don't poop. So what do they do with all that intake? Do they explode? Or is there some sort of furnace action going on in there? And if they do explode, do the Zombie heads just sort of roll around and snap at juicy bits on the floor? Because everyone knows that the only way to kill a Zombie isn't to explode it. You have to decimate the brain. People who have Zombie expertise know this, and it is kind of them to pass along such a useful tip. They next time I see a Lobotomizer at the flea market, you can be damned sure I will buy it. I won't even haggle much...), it was probably a better "my knee hurts too much to cycle or even walk" kind of book. I liked it in a highly fluffy way. But it got me thinking about monster/ghoul/scary-stuff classification. Monster castes, or something along those lines.

Evil Spirits and those directly directed by the very bad guy in the inferno, are of course the upper echelon of baddies. Even the monsters fear them. Then, perhaps -- Twilight Saga notwithstanding -- vampires. One bite, one of them. Efficiency is commendable. Next comes all those classes of "Ghouls/ghosts/bad-things (I have no idea what these are, but they've gotta be above Zombies). After that is the guy at the bar with the thing that you want to call a comb-over but you can't since it is only 2 or 3 really long hairs but you're over 40 at a bar alone and this is what you get, and following them, the Zombies. I kind of figure, that if you're human and you live, they'll eat you. If you breathe, they will get you. They don't care if you're an athlete, a crack-head, a mother or on your deathbed. If you are alive, a Zombie will eat you. That's why they are lowest in the monster-caste. Zombies are the cockroaches of the monster world.

Yeah. I know. I need to get back to running. Geez. Still, not a bad read. Really. Good Lord, I need to run.

So

2010-10-19T22:15:00.000-07:00

Just stuff, some of it really strange stuff, tho:

Sunday I woke up and my lower lip on the left side was starting to swell. Why? No clue. Took a zyrtec and went back to bed (it was like, 5am). A little later, the right side of my lower lip started to swell. Why? Still, no clue. Got a little worried and took a 25mg benedryl and went back to bed. 45 minutes later, my right eye felt like it was goopy, and I walked to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and the entire upper lid was draped over my eye. That soon spread to the left eye. Totally looked like Quasimodo, I did. I woke up College-Boy, who was asleep on the sofa, and told him that he might be taking me to the Emergency Dept. He just looked at me like he didn't know who I was. Soooo....couldn't drink anything, since my lips couldn't really move, and I had a hard time talking. Oh, and the twirly girls had a friend spending the night. Of course they did. I went back to bed, making sure I was sitting at 90*, and debated whether to go to the ED or not. Basically, I monitored my airway. If I could breathe, I wasn't going to the ED. If I could swallow my spit, I wasn't going. I have been to my ED. I never, ever want to be there as a patient.

Odd thing was that I spiked a temp to 101+ that afternoon. Probably a histamine response, but I was chocked full of benedryl. Temp didn't dip below 100* Sunday or Monday. And the facial swelling persisted. I went to the Urgent Care (yes, I have a doc, but she had no appts that day), but was told it was going to be several hours before I was seen. So I went home and took more benedryl. And woke up many hours and many bad dreams later. That stuff is not good for me. It works, but it works me over, too.

This evening I look and feel well enough to go to work tomorrow. I am a little scared, tho, to go to sleep. Benedryl makes me tangle with the insane, the crazy, and the completely out of bounds in my sleep. For an OTC drug, that dude is wicked.

Anyone out there with a magic wand?

2010-10-13T19:19:00.000-07:00

If anyone has a magic wand, please wave it over my knee. It has been just about a month since I hurt myself, and frankly, I am not a whole heck of a lot better. I still struggle with stairs, I still have a very limited range of motion, I still have a good deal of transient pain, but mostly, I still can't run. It is making me crazy. I am not a good sick person, and I am a worse injured person. I am going to be a terrible, crotchety, non-compliant little old lady -- I can see that train coming.

I go back to the Uber-Ortho in a few weeks. Right now my knee feels swollen, unstable, and kind of mushy. It locks up at highly inconvenient times. If things aren't appreciably better by the first of November, I am going to ask him to scope me. In the meantime, I am still cycling, still forcing myself to do elliptical training, and I suppose I will soon start swimming. But I had to stop the recumbent bike, because I couldn't get off of it. Literally. My right leg couldn't support my weight while I stepped over the bike with my left leg, but I also couldn't bend my right knee enough to step over with it. So, I was stuck sitting on the bike for 10 minutes trying to figure out how to get off. In a way, it was funny. In a way, it wasn't.

I can tell things about you

2010-10-09T15:09:00.000-07:00

I can tell things about you by your hands, by their color and temperature, by your nails, and by the symmetry of the way you squeeze my hands.

I can tell things about you by the way you breathe, by the shape of your chest, by the muscles you use.

I can tell things about you by how you grin, by how you smile, by how you swallow, and by how you speak.

I can tell things about you by the the way you look at me, or don't look at me; by the way you answer me, or don't answer me; by the way you exist and interact with your surroundings or how you don't.

I can tell things about you by the size and shape of your belly, by your belching and flatus. I can tell things about you by how you eat, or by how you don't eat.

I can tell things about you by the size and shape of your legs. By their color, by their temperature.

I can gauge how much pain you are in by all how you act, how you guard, how you grimace, and by how you breathe.

I can tell things about you by the color, the smell, the viscosity and the sediment in your urine.

I can tell by the smell of your feces if you are bleeding or are infected.

I can tell by your sputum (the "hockers" we all cough up) if you are infected or bleeding.

I can tell by your breath if your blood sugar is off-the-charts-out-of-control. I can also tell by your breath if your intestines aren't working.

I can walk into your room and talk to you, observe you, and lay my very cool hands on you here and there. Nothing invasive, only observation and touch.

With those few looks, those few strokes, those few touches, I know how you are. I do not diagnose you, but I know how you are.

School Pictures

2010-10-06T08:54:00.000-07:00

School pictures are a racket. The poses are so fake and forced, and the smiles even more so. If you're at all like me, you can't be there to make sure hair is combed, collars are right-side out, and your children are relaxed enough to be truly smiling. Nope, if you're like me, you end up with bad, expensive as hell pictures that you are strong-armed into buying because what parent doesn't buy the pictures? Not buying the pictures would make me a BAD MOM. So, this year I sent the Small People to school with combs, brushes and directions to teachers so that the girls' hair might be presentable, their noses wiped, and eyes not crossed when looking at the camera. And I sent the check for a gazillion dollars.

Smallest of All, and Small One. This year, I don't think we will be bothering with the retake.

I like this post

2010-10-06T08:17:00.000-07:00

I think I like this blog, too. I think he has some good insights, and he makes me want to really work harder at being a better mom to my kids. Anyway, he is worth reading when you have some time.

Girl Pack

2010-09-28T21:01:00.000-07:00

It's late, and I need to go to bed. Actually, I would be in bed right now, but I have a bed-space issue. And a knee issue. Well, to be honest, it's more of a both knees issue (yes, I fell again, this time it was a total "whoops" because I COMPLETELY forgot that my left foot was clipped in. I tried to stand up and over I went. The words out of my mouth would have made a sailor blush....thank God no one saw me. Just to keep track, I have a blown-out posterior cruciate ligament on my right knee, and substantial bruising on the left. The point of cycling was to save wear and tear on my poor body. HA!).

Small People sleep like puppies. They, for lack of a better term, "den up". I have the most comfy bed in the world (truly, I do), and when the small ones fall asleep on it, they entangle themselves -- limbs twined around limbs and blankets and hair and stuffed friends. Its kind of hard to figure out where one twirly-girl begins and where the other one ends. Moving them when they are deeply asleep is challenging. I don't want to completely wake them up (oh, hell no), but they are almost too big to carry now. One day they are little, the next they are not. Who knew that time went so fast? So I walk and whisper them to their room. Small One can't climb up to her bed when she is sleepy like that, so she gets into Smallest of All's bed. Smallest of All gets into her bed with Small One, and after some fidgeting and fussing, they are tangled up again. They are back pocket children, my daughters. That is where they live, in each others' back pocket. They may bicker and tattle, but at night, when they shed the intrusions of the day, the Small Ones entangle and entwine. They den up, because they are a pack.

God help me when the hormones kick in.

Tomorrow I go to the doctor

2010-09-20T21:38:00.000-07:00

Let me clarify. Tomorrow I go to the Clinic to see the uber-ortho's PA. She is, by all accounts, an active runner-biker-spinner-and-whatever else kinda woman. She will get me. She will understand about my need to move and sweat and, well, sweat and move.

So, I got this bike. I got the bike to help with my chronic running "-itis" (plantar fasciitis, ITB, tendonitis on the top of my foot or in my hip....), and the biking thing is working. Biking takes a lot more time than running, but it is fun. The best part is, I can keep running -- not far lately, but that's ok, I don't need to grind out miles right now -- without making the "itis" worse.

So, now that I am cycling, I decided that I need to be as hard-core, and as badass as all the other serious cyclers. Everyone I talked to said I needed to have pedals and clips, and so I got pedals and fancy clippy shoes. The guys at AJ's Bikes and Boards took two hours to tune and fit me to my bike. We practiced clipping in and out on the trainer. I was instructed and re-instructed. I was taught and coached. They covered all that I could absorb. AJ's rocks.

So, I got home and after a bit, took my bike with her new pedals for a spin. I stopped. Could I clip out? Nope. I spilled. Nothing major, I just kinda plopped over. No blood, minor knee scraping. But when I stood up -- whoa. Problem. And so, I tried again. And I fell again. And my right knee cried "UNCLE!!" and I quit for the day.

So, I made dinner, drank some wine and tried to sleep. Problem. My right knee bothered me every time I moved. I had wrapped it in ice, and taken a few ibuprofen, but they didn't help. At all.

So, I got up the next morning and waited for the babysitter to get there. And then I rode 42 miles. Ron at AJ's said that you have approximately 5,000 pedal strokes an hour at 18-19mph. I felt every 10,000+ of them. But now I know how to clip out (in advance, thank you). Afterwards, I didn't have an increase in pain, just swelling and stiffness.

So, I fell on Friday, cycled a long way on Saturday, gave blood on Sunday, and did the elliptical for almost an hour on Monday. The swelling is impressive but the pain?? Eh, more of a really annoying ache. My concern is that 13 hours on my feet at work will make that ache more than annoying. Oh, and stairs. I can't seem to manage stairs that well. Up or down. And, to be honest, getting in and out of the car is kind of hard. My right knee just really doesn't want to bend. And if I accidentally turn it sideways, I have to cry for a minute. 13 hours on my feet isn't looking like much fun.

So, tomorrow I see the doc. I am thinking torn lateral meniscus. That is an easy repair, so that must be what I have.

So, when this drama is over, I am totally thinking about the Run with Donna marathon in Jacksonville in February. But this isn't over yet, and I don't want to think about surgery and all of it friends. But I have to think about something, and I have to have a goal, so I am thinking about a winter marathon and Jacksonville fits. Or maybe Miami.

So, I am going to have a glass of wine and go to bed. Again. And try to sleep. Again.

I like this song. It always makes me smile, even if it is kinda prepubescent. You gotta give up the hardcore somewhere... Toca. So cool. Yep.

Alone at night kinda song

2010-09-20T21:28:00.000-07:00

And this

Living In Bed

2010-09-12T18:23:00.000-07:00

I spent the weekend in bed. Alone. I finished "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo" (geez...talk about a book that could have used a better edit), and then started and finished the next one in the series.

After I delivered the Small People to school on Friday, I repaired to my bedroom, (how E Dickonsonian of me). I had the book that I wanted to finish, some small amount of wine and a bag of lettuce in the fridge.

The grand agenda for this misbegotten weekend was to run and bike and run and bike.

I left the house once to go to the grocery and liquor stores. Who knew that vodka and farm fresh lemonade was so delightful?

I spent the weekend cloistered in my bedroom. I could have had my lover with me, but I didn't have it within me to be giving and available. It concerns me that I can miss my Small People so much that I can shut the normal side of me down and take up an almost reverent relationship with books. I am a person who does things. But sometimes I am paralyzed. I hate it when the kids are gone weekend after weekend after weekend. I hate it when I get letter after letter (forwarded by my attorney) castigating me as a mother. The fact is, we are solid my my little household, even if I don't run. We. Are. Solid.

Appointment Guy is getting ready to retire and is always on vacation. I suppose that I need a new Appointment Guy.

Still here

2010-09-10T21:16:00.000-07:00

It has been nigh on a month since I have posted. Things have simply gotten away from me. The last six weeks were blinked away via one crisis or another, none of which have to directly do with me or my little family. For once, we are all okay. Yeah, I am behind on school forms and sign-ups for various things for the Small People. Yeah, I am frantically doing the online book gathering thing (gotta love Bigwords.com for cheap college texts) for College Boy. But all in all, my little household is on solid ground. Baby-sitting Goddesses are back and homework schedules and after-school stuff have been discussed. All in all, our keel is even.

My crises are at work and in my expanded family. All of these are salvos into my little village of Sarah. So far none is a direct hit. I never feel stable, but lately I feel solid. And competent. And centered. It is hard to describe. All of these incoming issues will get exponentially worse before they get better, without a doubt. The storm is coming; I am just now seeing the wind in the leaves. I know a hurricane when I see one. Landfall will come, and there will be disaster. But there won't be disaster in my house. There will be tears, I am certain, and gut-wrenching sadness and anger. But when it comes down to the very cellar of basic, my little family is strong. We are a family as families should be. I didn't grow up this way, the opposite, in fact. Still, College-Boy loves his Mama and the Small People. They love him, and they love me. And I, I -- well, there aren't words. We are waiting for Soldier-Boy to rejoin us. He may, or he may not, but he is with us. There is no negating love.

I have been a bike-slut more than I have been a runner lately. Seems to me, though, that biking helps my running, if for no other reason than my feet feel better. I am trying to decide on a new marathon. Winter in Florida gives me a bunch of races to choose from. I am looking at Miami, but it might be too big. I like smaller races -- I get intimidated by crowds. I have run Jacksonville (sub 4, thank you), but am looking at the Run with Donna race there. Might be too big. Lots to ponder. This biking thing tho.....

Finally, the Hospital Spoke

2010-08-25T22:10:00.000-07:00

One and a half months of "bad outcomes". A cutter who cuts and cuts and cuts at all hours and all times seemingly without prejudice and without insight, who refuses help from the vastly more experienced. A surgeon who is a ghost everywhere but in the OR. A floor, a unit left to mop up the mess. An unusually slow day followed by a day with a suddenly and unexpectedly cleared surgical schedule. Chaos with patients -- operate on them or feed them, but please don't do neither. The next day, waiting, watching, a patient goes down for surgery and then...nothing. Whispers become words which become sighs of relief. 8 hours later, service is shifted to others. I am nearly crying my thanks that my dear, sweet, independent 91 year old patient will have his surgery and will probably have a "good outcome".

How Do You Mother Girls?

2010-08-21T20:48:00.000-07:00

Really, how do you be a good mother to girls when there isn't a constant male influence around? My small people get brushed by male influences here and again (much older brothers who are chasing their own futures and the man who is off and on in my life), but for the most part, what they get is me. They get my good and my not so good; they get my great but they also get my crazy. Small One reminds me that Appointment Guy told me not to worry about what I can't control. My 9 year old remembers to ground me. I can't decide if that is great or if it sucks.

None the less, we march on. We know how to grill. We know how to change car tires and how to fix toilets (sort of). We remember trash day and recycling day most of the time. We do pedicures and manicures and fashion shows. We applaud each other with our successes and commiserate after our failures. The small people bicker and fuss. I try to mediate that, but if that doesn't work, I send them to opposite corners. There is a lot of estrogen in my household, and lordy lordy, that estrogen level is going nowhere but up. Small One has her first training bra. It isn't physically necessary, but her little self is ready for that step. I need to mother these girls so hard core that they get through their adolescence knowing that they are fabulous people, that they are fabulous females. With or without males. The Small Ones need to be awesome people because they are just that.

I am teaching us to kayak. We hike and we bike ride. We have seen wonders when we are motor-less. Having dolphin playing with you in a kayak is so much more wonderful than having dolphin jump the waves when you are traveling in a fast boat (although the cool factor is totally there....Hollywood Dolphin!) Watching manatee in the bay next to your still boat as you are picnicking is priceless. I am teaching them to stick their fingers and feet and sometimes noses into the earth so that they can learn to be part of the big What Is. I am teaching them to grow things. We talk about what kind of garden we will have when we buy our house this fall. I am also trying to get over my fear of spiders and bugs, but that isn't going so well.

They see me sweat, they see me run and bike and work. They see me do all of the things that two parents do. And I can do that. I can work hard at a supremely intensive job. The Small Ones know how intense it is. They ask about it. We talk about it almost every time I come home from work. Does it surprise anyone that I am not bringing up a nurse? They see the hard and rightly do not see any glamor. They see me take care of all the things that Moms take care of, and they see me take care of lots of the things that Dads take care of, too. Because when it comes down to brass tacks, one person can really do all of it. Except the brownies and the cakes and goodies because while I can cook, I hate to bake. And I don't have a pickup truck or a 6-12 foot ladder, so that kind of limits me, too.

How do you mother girls? How do you make them strong and smart and resilient? How do you bring them up to be steadfast and almost, but not quite, impermeable to the crap that's going to hit them from every front? I have beautiful, smart, sweet, strong small people. I want them to come through these next years running, running balls to the wall, and emerge on the other side just glowing with possibilities.

We fed turtles flowers. Hibiscus flowers. Who knew that hibiscus flowers were the preferred treat for turtles? Small One and Smallest of All know that. I hope they carry that knowledge with them.

Please don't leave the empties

2010-08-05T19:29:00.000-07:00

Just so we're clear: When you are discharged from the hospital for "near-syncope", "falls", and "disorientation", please don't leave your empty wine bottle under the bed. Even if it is just one out of those little 4-bottle packs. Trust me, the housekeepers will find it, and they will bring it to me. And then I will be royally ticked off that I gave you as much xanax as I did because I was unaware that you were already self-medicating. (Although, finding that little treasure brought much hilarity to the unit, so I guess it was worth something) And know this: next time you are admitted -- and there will be a next time -- know that I will turn your belongings inside out and I will make doubly sure to do so after your "boyfriend" visits.

Please don't notice that I am not blogging about running. Yes, I have a relay to run in a month. Don't remind me. I plan on running A WHOLE LOT in the next 2 weeks or so...and I can say mostly with confidence that I will do just that because I will be (drum roll, please) on vacation at the beach for 2 weeks! I have 4 novels, enough for a week, I hope. I have happy small and not so small people, and I have sunscreen. And a lot of groceries that have to fit into my Honda. Bikes? Check. Bathing suits? Check. Beach chair? Check. Margarita mixer and some wine? Check and check.

I had two big milestones for this year, a goal and a treat. The goal was to train for and run a marathon. I have Bayshore in my pocket. The treat was 2 weeks on Sanibel Island. Oh man....I can almost smell the salt water now. 14 days of sun and surf and sand. 14 days of no clocks, of getting up when we are ready, eating when we are hungry and sleeping when we are tired. 14 days of no schedules. 14 days of "AHHHH".

A goal and a treat. It is going to be juicy. I can tell.

WTF????

2010-08-01T14:56:00.000-07:00

Divorce battles over children are exquisitely horrible. Even when the terms and conditions are spelled out so that a 1st grader could understand them, those terms and conditions fall victim to the vagaries of someone with a grudge and an agenda.

I would post more about this tonight, but all I have in my arsenal is hate and vitriol. And I chose not to go there.

KT was supposed to be with me today. She was not. I am sad, and I am sure that she is sad, too.

My heart is decorated with freckles.

2010-07-30T20:01:00.000-07:00

(This video is for KT, who turns 9 on 8/1. She is one of the coolest people I have ever met, and she has constellations on her face, esp in the FL summer. I adore her, and if you had 5 minutes with her, you would adore her too. She is like that.)

16 days. 16 nights. Tomorrow will be 17 days and nights -- 17 long days and nights since I have seen or heard or smelled the small people. The first week is tolerable. The second week is a downward spiral into what amounts to severe homesickness. But to start a third week, and then have that third week linger on. It is almost more than I can stand. Guerrilla-divorce is hard on the person who isn't particularly combative. But, it is beyond hard on the non-enemy non-combatants. My small people suffer, and I cannot fix it. As hard as it is for me to go almost 3 weeks without contact, it is worse for them. I can't think about it too much, because if I do, I will get sucked into an angry and vengeful place, and then I won't be much good to the small people when they do come home. And trust me, they will need A LOT of good.

Sunday is KT's 9th birthday. She wants a skateboard. She has already suffered a broken wrist and a broken arm because she is a kid who can do anything and isn't afraid to test her limits. Monkey bars at 4? Kersplat. Broken wrist. (Didn't stop her from doing them with a cast.) Rock wall at the Y? Kersplat--that one was ugly. 6 weeks in a cast. Not long after, she wants me to watch her as she is screaming down the street on her bike, one leg over the handlebar, one arm thrown about her head, face to the sky. She survived. I took a xanax.

So, this year for her birthday, she wants a skateboard. Almost everyone who I tell this to says "Oh God! Don't do it!" But I will. I will take her out and get her a skateboard (and its friends, the helmet, et al). And I will put her out on the street and let her ride. She might end up just riding up and down the street. She might end up needing to go to a skateboard park. She is a kid who can do things, and she is a girl who is fearless. I choose to enable that part of her. I choose to let her be hardcore before she knows what hardcore is. I choose to let her explore the boundaries, and to push those limits. I choose to not snuff out whatever fire she has.

KT is one of those special people that you don't run into often. She is smart and intuitive. She is, as more than one of her teachers has said, the sweetest of the sweet. She is gentle and kind and loves all living creatures. Like so many pre-teens, she wants to be a veterinarian. She takes care of her little sister in ways that I can't. She will also shove you into the wall so that she is first down the stairs. She pouts when she doesn't win, but she tries to win (any and everything) at all costs. But, she is one of the best people that I know. And I am glad that God gave her to me, because she is just so cool.

This thing called "cycling".

2010-07-26T19:46:00.000-07:00

So, I bought a road bike, and all of her friends, which set me back close to 2K. I bought a bike because my feet are just about ruined. I have chronic PF. I have chronic ITB issues. And, after this last training cycle and marathon, I have a chronic tendonitis on the TOP of my right foot. And in my right ankle. Walking hurts, almost all of the time. Advil helps, but not that much. I just don't know how to fix this.

(Digression: I don't mind getting older. I don't mind that I LOOK older. I have earned this face. I have come through the worst of storms and I have survived. If my face shows strength and resilience, I am okay with that. If my face shows a hard life, but also great love and levity, I am okay with that, too. What once was north is now heading south. I am getting ready to kiss 50. I can run marathons. I work hard and I save lives. I don't need to be 30 anymore. I am old enough that I no longer have to answer to anyone, nor do I have to put up with anyone's abuse, which include patients. What I really DO mind and what really ticks me off is that my body no longer responds or recovers like it used to. I have as much desire and drive to run hard and long and as fast as possible, but my body just can't answer the challenge. It makes me angry. I used to run a 20 miler, take a day off, and would be ready to run again. But, it isn't working like that now. I hurt. I limp. And sometimes, after a long run, or even after a sorta-long run, I dread walking down the hall to check on a patient. It gives me a new understanding into the complaints of my grumpy old people. And I HATE it.)

So. I ran 4 miles today in the mid-day heat. I ran late because I worked late...vicious cycle. Anyway, I ran. Pink Shuffle is having issues...I don't know whether it is worth it getting in line at Apple to fix her, or if just buying a new shuffle is better. Still, I love her, so getting her fixed is probably the best option. After my run, I did a few things in the house but then got a wild hair and went cycling.

I cycled the Van Fleet Trail for the second time. I didn't start until 5:30p, but it was a great time to start. I saw more gopher turtles than I could count. Apparently, 6-7 is gopher turtle dinner time. I saw doe and fawns, on the way out and on the way back...must be a deer crossing! I chose not to ride over a bunch of snakes. No gators, but I didn't stop to look. All in all, 30 miles riding the flats at about 17 mph. I don't know if that is fast or far. I do know that I was ready to quit at 28 miles, which meant that I had to ride the last ones really hard.

This cycling thing is fun. It isn't running, but if it helps save my poor, aging chassis, I am all for it. I am not sure, though, if it counts as real exercise. Still, it is sexy in its own fast way.

My bike is a SHE. And she needs a name. I will have to think about it.

Empty In Here.

2010-07-22T22:55:00.000-07:00

The AC just kicked in. I can say this for certainty, because I heard it. The reason that I heard it is because I am home alone. Small People are with their father. College Boy is "visitin" a college-buddy. Soldier-son still isn't talking to me. And so I hear the AC kick in, because there isn't anyone else's noise to cover it up. I don't do very well alone. My whole life is an immersion in service to others. I am a mother, and a nurse. My "modus operandi" (please check the syntax and spelling) is to take care of people. Tonight and lately I am a caretaker without anyone to care for.

I ran today. 5 miles. Ran inside because I slept in until almost noon. The reason that I slept in was because I worked well past my shift and got to bed really late. But, I managed to run. And then I managed to ride. 16 miles, which would have and should have been longer and harder but I started too late because I worked too late and slept too long. I am getting the hang of riding. Well, not really. I am getting the hang of wiping my brow when there is much sweat, or glancing behind me for traffic. I am a rider who carries fear as her wingman. I am trying. Really trying. My feet feel better, and so I can run a bit more.

I'm trying to get ready for DWD. I don't want my team to be as slow as it was last year. I can't fix much about that, but I can fix my speed and fitness going into the race. And so I am trying.

I hate the quiet. I miss my little (and not so little) people. This is really hard. I think about College Boy, and his insouciant smile. About how he says "I love you, Mommy". And how he means it. I think about KT, and her freckles and her sweet, sweet self that will do whatever she can to win at all costs. She is like that. And B-Jill. My satellite. My auditory ambien. My personal glue-stick. All of them are gone. They will come back, I know. But for now.......

A Song

2010-07-19T17:57:00.000-07:00

Small people are with their dad for 2 weeks. College boy is out of town. It is quiet here. I embrace the quiet, the lack of responsibility. I loathe the quiet, the emptiness. There is no soft snoring, no auditory ambien. I can find things because they are exactly where I left them.

This is the first time in many, many years that I have been completely alone. It is hard, much harder than I thought it was going to be. You don't know how much you miss something until it is gone.

The Doc Says...

2010-07-14T19:05:00.000-07:00

I work with doctors and patients. Job perk or job hazard, you pick 'em, depending on the day. It is a lottery, a roll of the dice, always a game of chance. I know this. I try to be the stable place in the land of change and crazy. My head has been taken off so many times by so many people that it is now attached by a bungee cord. It is all good. That is how life is for a hospital RN. If radiology is hopelessly backed up, and non-emergent studies are backed up for a day, both the doc and the patient are angry and upset. They almost never express that frustration to each other. To a doc and a patient, they express their frustrations to me, as if I have any impact at all on the flow-through of other departments. It's the same if nuclear medicine, CAT-scan, or vascular access is backed up. Everyone is frustrated and it is up to me to smooth the feathers. I am good at that. I take what I can get.

I met a doc today that I had not met before, a podiatrist. He has been consulted on many, many of my patients prior to today, but he always rounded before or after my shift. He was known to me, but I did not know him. Anyway, he was consulted on my pt, and did his thing with me assisting him. He was funny and pithy. I was funny and pithy and I had an agenda (My PF, which is really bad. Really bad. I have a relay to run in a month....yikes) Told him about my PF issues, and got some good advice. He likes nurses. He likes me. Oh yeah. Gonna work this one for some good anti-inflammatory meds for my poor feet.

Perhaps the one really great benefit of being a hospital RN is that you have daily contact with people who fix people. And sometimes those people will agree to try to fix you.

I want to run. I love to run. I don't love running when every step really, really hurts all. of. the. time.

Totally going to work this new Doc. No narcotics, but hopefuly some good knowledge.

New Shoes

2010-07-11T06:20:00.000-07:00

They finally came, my new Hurricanes. This time around, it took my boy, Donnie, over 2 weeks to get them to me. I broke them in with a 4 mile run on the mill (girls were with me) and VOILA! Little to no PF -- pain was negligible. Better yet, walking wasn't nearly as difficult the next day at work. Well, it started out being pain-free. I wore old running shoes to work, and by the end of the day my feet were on fire. Might have to look into old lady nursing shoes soon. Or those bizarre Shape-up things. Bah.

A second run, outside, 6 miles, in the heat and sun, and while I did have some noticeable pain and stiffness, it wasn't anything that I couldn't run through. Walking was tough for the rest of the day, but not as bad as it had been. So, I think that the new shoes are helping, and another new pair is needed so that I can rotate them.

That being said, I have made the decision to buy a good road bike. Running is my first love, but I think it is time to start spreading it around. I think it is time to become a sport slut. I need to start swimming again, too. But, fitting all of my roundness into a bathing suit and doing laps holds absolutely no thrill for me. Still, I suppose swimming is just around the bend. Anything to hang onto and improve my fitness level while not further damaging myself. Sport slutdom, here I come.

My feet are killing me and I can use a wrench.

2010-07-05T11:54:00.001-07:00

I am waiting for a new pair of shoes to arrive, i hope, by tomorrow. I have pretty severe plantar fasciitis in both feet. It is painful to walk, much less run. So the running has been limited to 3 mile hobbles around a local lake. Am working the elliptical, but much more of that and I will be either homicidal or suicidal -- neither is a pretty option.

On the bright side (well, I am not sure that this is a bright side, but what the hell) I think I may be developing my own little testicle. I can now fix toilets, I can fix flat bike tires, I can mow a lawn, and I can take the tires off the kids bikes, force the frames into my little car, and put the wheels back on so that the bikes actually work. Next, I am going to figure out how to change the brake pads on KT's bike. The child truly needs a good set of brakes. I am turning into the queen of the little adjustable wrench. And although I still believe that the PROPER use for pliers is opening bottles of champagne, I am willing to admit that I might need more than a screwdriver and a hammer to get through life.

Admiral, there be whales here!!!!

2010-07-02T19:34:00.001-07:00

That is one of my favorite lines from the Star Trek movies. You know, after Scottie beams a blue (?) whale on board of the Enterprise. Today, there were whales here. Well, not whales, but dolphin....lots and lots of dolphin. Big ones and baby ones all curving through the water. And we while weren't on the Enterprise, we WERE on rental kayaks, 3 adult women, 3 small people. It was overcast and drizzly and dreary. No one was on the water, except us. Moms and daughters, getting our kayak on, with no one to keep us company except a pod of dolphin breaking the surface all around us. At one point, an adult and a baby come up within touching distance of KT. Girl squeals everywhere.

You can swim with the dolphins at SeaWorld. You can do the Disney Dolphin Experience. Today, we got to learn how to kayak with a dolphin escort. The kid who wants to be a veterinarian watched as dolphin curled in front of her, almost close enough to touch.

Admiral!! There be whales here!!!

The nightly (sort of) walk

2010-06-28T18:28:00.000-07:00

Most nights, I take the small people on a walk. Well, let me correct myself. They ride bikes, and I walk (only because I don't have a bike yet...working on it). The route we take is almost always the same. We cross a very busy street, which is highly exciting to small people. The element of danger, you know. (Although when KT crossed the street tonight by herself after I told her to wait, the element of danger was her mother's fear and anger. I doubt she will do that again, at least for a while) It is a really neat walk. It varies evening by evening. The road is the same. The bobbed wire fences are the same. But sometimes gates are opened, and small people ride and explore until they get too afraid to explore anymore. Sometimes there are cattle, and we MOO to them (always good for a laugh). Sometimes it is so dark that it is seriously creepy -- oak trees, Spanish moss, cattle lowing -- and sometimes the moon is so bright we can see the color of each others' eyes. Every time we go, the walk brings us something different. In daylight, it is a simple stretch of road; at night, well, there is magic there.

Lock Down

2010-06-26T20:25:00.000-07:00

I got floated to SICU today. I don't mind floating -- I don't dread it like lots of nurses do. Floating is a chance to do something new, with people who are really glad you're there and therefore are willing to help you. I don't have to float often, but I have done it a few times lately. Today I was floated to the Surgical ICU. Most of my patients come from SICU (bypass, vascular, surgical lung patients), and so I was given a team of two (WOW, COUNT THEM -- TWO!!!) post-op patients. They weren't stable, but they weren't crashing, either. They really weren't different from what I would expect on my floor. I was mixed up because the huge amount of paperwork was very different, but other than that, it was like cooking in a new kitchen. You know what to do, but you have no idea where things are. That kind of mixy.

Until.

There was a cop outside the room next to my little station. I didn't think much about it...we have cops inside and outside of rooms now and again. Why should the unit be different?

Until.

2 and 3 sheriff's deputies next to my little station. Lots of whispering. Hospital Charge Nurse there for a long, long time, talking with the unit charge nurse and the deputies.

Until.

The first meeting. After rumors are flying and people are intrigued and a little scared (like a ride at Disney, with the psuedo-promise of blood). Deputy and Charge Nurse talk about locking down exits. They talk about what to do if someone comes in and causes trouble. We leave with marching orders. And more cops seem to be around.

And then.

(Remember, I am floated to the SICU -- I have no access to the secure places. My badge simply won't let me in.)

We are told that there are specific threats against cops, against surgeons, and against all nurses who take care of wounded sheriff's officers. We are told to go to the CVOR (locked and secure) if things get dicey or if any one of us feels threatened. Or we can go to the secured (locked) break room. Or we can go to the secured (locked) clean supply room. I can get into none of these. If a shooter comes, and the threats have been threatened happen, I won't be able to have access to any of the designated SAFE places.

That is how I spent my day. I went home unscathed. I don't know what will happen tonight, but at shift change for me, all was quiet on the western front. I hope things will simmer down...I expect that they will.

Lock down. How in the world could this happen to podunk Florida. I didn't get drawn in by the drama. But, damn, I didn't expect a lock-down today.

I Ran.

2010-06-25T21:02:00.000-07:00

I ran 4 miles today. I didn't start until the WAY too hot hours to run, but that is when I started. And so I suffered because of it. Was running kind of easy (is it ever easy when it is 95* and sunny with no breeze) until everything from my diaphragm down decided that running was the last thing my internal parts wanted to do. Not to be explicit, but it wasn't pretty. I tried to be there in the moment, but...that moment couldn't be run through, and so the living with it thing just couldn't happen. My 5 or more easy miles became 4 "gut it out and just be glad you're running" miles. But I made it.

I may just make the best fish tacos in the world. Yum yum yum. Truly. My fish tacos will have you not only kissing my feet, but begging for your mommy. Bobby Flay and Throwdown....come knock on my door!

Small people come home on Monday. I miss most the chatter of small people voices. The single mom thing is hard all the time. But it is hardest when the small people are gone for a long time.

Trying to run

2010-06-25T10:21:00.001-07:00

I think I am going to try to run today. I have been having some pretty significant pain in both my ankles and feet, since, well, since before Bayshore. I think it is tendonitis, but being a nurse, I don't like to go see doctors, so I don't really know for sure. I am down to one pair of shoes that don't seem to hurt me too much, and have ordered a new pair that have yet to arrive. But I am jonesing for a run -- the last one was almost a week ago. In the meantime I have done a LOT of eating, drinking, playing, dancing and working, but almost no exercise. The guy I went on the oyster trip is lots of fun, but he isn't particularly physically active; I am much more of a boarder collie. So, today I am going to try to run. I hope that it goes well.

Keeping my promise.

2010-06-20T10:16:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I promised Appointment-Guy that I would take the time to fill my well. I promised to have more fun, and do more things that make me feel happy, and by extension, make my little family feel happy. Last weekend's trip to St Augustine did just that. All of us came home smiling and happy.

Yesterday, I ran into an old friend/beau. We went out for music and oysters, and we had a ball. So now, I am apparently going to be spending the weekend oyster-bar hopping, listening to music, and traveling the Gulf Coast before there is no more Gulf Coast left to speak of. By tomorrow afternoon, I will be in Apalachicola, Fl, where, according to my friend, they have the best oysters in the world. I don't work again until Wed, so I have the time. This trip could be horrible, or it could be ridiculously fun. I am voting for fun. I'll let you know how it goes.

I ran in the rain today

2010-06-19T14:29:00.000-07:00

I seem to be needing a lot of sleep lately. A lot of sleep. I got called off for my overtime day yesterday, and, aside from answering the phone at 5am and calling to see if I was needed to work at 9 am, I slept until almost 2pm. I never, ever do that. I simply couldn't wake up. When I did, I conducted the normal business of the day, but I was foggy.

Today, again, I didn't make it out of bed until noon. I know that this is really abnormal for me, but I also know that I had absolutely NOTHING to do today. Yeah, I prolly should run, but....and so I slept in for almost forever. Again. I don't feel well rested yet. But I feel more rested -- not so strung out, and not so edgy.

I ran 8 miles today. I ran Bayshore 3 weeks ago. I thought about that a lot during my run. I am still proud of myself. I am a person who can make it through all sorts of crap and manage to come out on the good side. I am a person who can manage single motherhood, a hugely intense job, and all the mundane but important issues of daily life and still run marathons.

I ran 8 miles today. I ran, so late, at 2 pm (the sleeping thing). And just when I was really getting too hot, it rained. I ran in the rain today, the almost cool rain. I ran, and it made me not miss the small people. It made me forget about all the work crap. I ran in the rain.

Everyone should run in the rain.

The thing about....

2010-06-15T19:38:00.000-07:00

Nursing.
I could go all technical and talk about AV blocks 1, 2, and 3. I could talk about PACs, PVCs, SSS, bigeminy, trigeminy, couplets and salvoes, and runs of V-tach and all about afib and flutter. I can discuss all of those heart rhythms until everyone is sound asleep. But what matters is that I am smart enough to put an amp of atropine in my pocket when I see that my patient's heartrate is dipping into the 30's (no, he isn't an athlete). The thing about being a nurse is that sometimes you make the decision to put the answer in your pocket -- long before the MD tells you to put the answer in your pocket. And yeah, he got his pacemaker.

The best thing about being a nurse is when my patients ask me, at the end of my shift, if I am coming back in the morning, and the look of relief when I say that I am. When my patient, or the family, is visibly relieved that I will be caring for them tomorrow, I have done my job. My patients feel safe when I have the team. I am good with that.

Being a mom

Smallest of all (she is all of SIX, 6, and only has memories from the last 6 years), during the very late-night ghost-tour in St Augustine, was given (with the price of admission) a disposable camera. Disposable camera. 6 year old. Smallest of all said, looking quizzically at her camera, "Mama, how do they get the pictures OUT"? She had only seen digital cameras...had no conception of a thing called FILM. The thing about being a mom is that you get to laugh and appreciate the small little nuggets of funny. Sometimes the sheer innocence (not the gossamer winged "innocence", but the sheer lack of knowledge that is on the young, nice side of uninformed) of kids will stand you up, turn you around, and make you remember that the world view isn't cast in your own stone.

Small people are with their dad for 2 weeks. *sigh* It is amazing how quiet quiet can actually be.

Making memories

2010-06-14T13:58:00.000-07:00

My daughter is 8. She is the family photographer. She is gifted in a way that I am not -- she takes marvelous pictures! And so, I have come to realize, that while she is still in her first decade of life, if we want our lives remembered in photographs, I need to just hand over the camera to Miss 8. Right now she wields the family camera, but her birthday is in August. I think that I may just know the perfect gift!

This photo is of the lighthouse in St Augustine, Fl. School let out for summer last week. The girls go to their dad's for 2 weeks today. We thought that it would be the best of ideas to have a kind of "mini-vacation" right here in the Sunshine State. And so off we went. The list of things seen and done: played on the beach, climbed the lighthouse, swam for a couple of hours in the pool and then slept in the hotel (small people adore hotels). Next day: Castillo de San Marco, Lieghtner Museum, Flagler college, shopping, ice cream treat, Basilica de St Someone, back to hotel, more swimming, quick nap, dinner and late night ghost tour, followed by serious sleeping. Last day: playing on the beach, window shopping, fountain of youth, and finally the long drive home. Mission completed! Everyone had a marvelous time and everyone was completely worn out! Oh, no running. Took my gear, but I just couldn't bring myself to leave the small people alone in a hotel. I did run 6 miles in the ungodly heat today for penance.

One of the peacocks on the grounds of the Fountain of Youth:

Post recovery run...what's it gonna be?

2010-06-08T18:02:00.001-07:00

Was worried about this run. I was in a considerable amount of discomfort after Bayshore, so I took a few extra days off. Today I returned to running. And it was good. Not fabulous -- I have some serious PF going on -- but not terrible, either. Got better as I went along. I didn't go far. The heat is becoming Florida oppressive, but I made my 3.5 nonetheless. It made me happy, like coming home after being on a long, lonely trip. The marathon was about searching for part of me. From now on, I hope that running will be my touchstone, and will be a reminder of who I am.

Recovery Random

2010-06-06T19:35:00.000-07:00

I am not running right now, and I feel only the teeniest amount of guilt. I did try running on National Running Day, just to say that I ran, but I only made a few minutes before I said, "Screw it", and I went back to walking. Maybe I will run in the coming week. Maybe I won't. The absolutely best thing about RECOVERY is that I have to let everything heal. I have to let my feet, my thighs, my calves, and my everyplace else heal. So, while I heal, on to random thoughts. Operative word there is "random".

Small people go to a charter school -- a technology school, one of the best in Lakeland. They are, as of this summer required to go online to a site called Kidscollege. They have a required amount of hours. We have one laptop. So now, we have one laptop and two new netbooks. We are so saying goodbye to TV. In another day, I will be asking them for online help.

Where to vacation? I have a 2 week rental reservation on a lovely condo in Sanibel Island, Fl. On the Gulf Coast. Sanibel is near Ft Myers. On the Gulf Coast. My vacation is scheduled for mid-August. Oil is washing up in Pensacola. It is now hurricane season. I don't have to make the decision until the end of the month, but do I chance it and hope for Sanibel as I know it? Or do I just go ahead and change plans and book a 2 week rental in NC or TN? Or Maine? Or, well, someplace else? What to do....

If you say in my presence, "GD MotherF", "you F'n nurses are F'n Dictators" while I am trying to clean the cellulitis wounds on your legs, trying to change your bandages so that your sorry self can heal, do not expect me to spend quality time with you. If you want to scream at me about how much methadone you take and how much you need, and how my Nazi-self is keeping it from you, well, I am happy to give it early. Just to shut you up. Just don't depend on me to save you when you end up naked at a local lake, OD'd. Again.

I can tolerate country music. That's about it.

I have a fire-ant bite on one of my toes. Totally allergic to them. Now my toe is swollen and it itches like crazy. Until I rub it. Then it hurts like crazy. The next week is going to be toe-hell.

When I buy a home of my own, I think I will get a dog/rug. I don't want a puppy. I want a dog that doesn't want to do much other than play with kids for a few minutes, eat and sleep. A rug. I love furry rugs. I hope that they have one at the shelter.

Next to smallest of all got her appliance thingy to keep her from sucking her thumb. She is almost 9. She has sucked her thumb since she was about 2 months old. It was a long week with much crying, sobbing and almost gnashing of teeth (overbite and crossbite prevents actual gnashing). But, mean as it sounds, surgery to repair her upper palate is the only other option. I chose crying over pain.

College-Boy and I get along pretty well now. Amazing is the change that happens when one actually tries to be a responsible citizen.

Bayshore Marathon 2010.

2010-06-01T11:15:00.000-07:00

The Bayshore Marathon is the most beautiful course I have ever run, for any race distance. The views are simply breathtaking. Just to have the opportunity to run on such a course was worth all the training, all the effort, and all the pain. It is a small race, with approximately 2,000 full marathoners, 2,000 half-marathoners, and 2,500 10k racers. There is no expo. There are no masses of cheering spectators. There is no post-race feast or beer-garden. You pay for the view, and it is worth twice the price.

Prior to the marathon, I had the worst case of Taper Madness in history. Twenty percent was real and physical (I did have a bad back and fairly serious PF in both feet, along with persistent tendonitis on the top of my right foot), but the rest was a bunch of craziness. I was, as most of us are pre-race, nervous and anxious. But this time, I was absolutely afraid. Fear is not a good look for me. It took a couple of good friends to kick me in the hind end, turn me around and tell me to look back at why I decided to run a marathon again in the first place. And so I did. I went back to the beginning of this blog and thought about the why, and when I remembered the why, I felt better about things. You see, I decided to run another marathon because the "ME" that I like best runs marathons, and I needed to be that person again. A simple reason, and a simple goal. Not an easy goal, by any means, but a simple one.

Friday Morning. Got the small people off to school, came home, finished packing, drove to Orlando and navigated the airport. I didn't get lost once, and I didn't forget anything (well, I did forget toothpaste, but hotel had some so it doesn't count). Got on the plane in Orlando and got off in Grand Rapids. I rented a car, drove north to Traverse City, ate on the way, and arrived at the hotel in one piece, which was a very good omen. I found my way to packet pickup, drove back to the hotel without mishap, did all the pre-race organizing and arranging, and was in bed by 9:30. Sleep was a different story, but I was in bed on time.

Race Day. The phone rang at 4:30. I woke up expecting to be teeth-chattering, bone-shaking nervous, but I wasn't. I had butterflies, and it took me longer than usual to get through the morning routine, but by 5am I was downstairs getting a bagel and some coffee, talking to other runners about race morning things. I went back upstairs to gather my race bag, and then joined a group of about 10 runners outside to wait for the shuttle. I had on a long sleeved t-shirt from an Orlando half marathon and my red gloves. It was, at least to me, quite chilly. The school bus came, and 10 minutes later I was in the start/finish area -- the track area of a local college. I sat down next to my first new best friend of the day, a lovely young woman named Nellie (one of my favorite people at work and in the world is named Nellie, a woman who truly loves me, and so I thought this was a good harbinger for the morning). We decided to start the journey together. Her parents found her, and so I gave them my t-shirt, knowing it would have a good home post-race. We made our way to the start, just as people began moving forward in the starting chute. Chirp, chirp and we were off. 10:24 first mile, according to Nellie. My watch was in the bottom of my race bag; I wore only silver bracelets on my wrist. Nellie put her headphones on, and we parted ways. Soon, however, I met my second new best friend, Suzanne. We ran and chatted for a couple of miles (10+, both of them). Suzanne had a 16 month old who was under the weather. She was looking forward to 4.5 hours of not taking care of a sick kid. I could relate.

When Suzanne and I parted ways, I ran solo, easing past people, astounded by the view. The bay was stunning...pale blue-green water gradually darkening to deep blue. My bay is grey-blue and green. To see blue-blue water was spectacular. It was still; the water was glassy. The air smelled of new grass and spring and lilacs. I stopped more than once to bury my face in lilac bushes. It had been 25 years since I smelled lilacs. There were gentle puffs of breeze. I was chilly, but not uncomfortable. I was glad for my gloves. By mile 6, however, I noticed people soaked in sweat and panting. I had not yet even begun to glow. The miles rolled along, and somewhere before mile 9, I met my third best friend of the day. I can't remember his name, but we played leap-frog for the next 10 miles or so. He teased me about my gloves. Actually, a lot of people commented on my gloves. By mile 10, I was taking the advice of a friend, who said to walk the water stops and to walk 50 steps a mile. It seemed like I was climbing more often than I was descending, which ended up being true. The course is advertised as flat, but to a true flatlander, it had rolling hills. Mile 13, up a sharp hill, turned around at the floral arrangement, donated my gloves to charity, chirped across the time strip, and headed for home.

I had no new best friend, and so I put on headphones and let Pink Shuffle work her magic. One minute later, I turned her back off. She is my training partner; and I now I had race friends. Mile 15, and I was juggling two thoughts: 1)this was the best long run of my training cycle, by far, and 2)my gut hurt, I thought I might vomit at any moment, and the balls of my feet were in horrible pain. And so I channeled my next new best friend, EB. I remembered to exist with the cramping, to exist with the nausea, to exist with the pain for that moment, because that moment became the next moment, which became the next. A few times dark thoughts flitted through my mind, but for once I gave them no gravity. At 47 years of age, I finally learned to ignore myself. Mile 18 and I met my fifth best friend of the day, whose name escapes me, but I thank her for the Succeed caps and the company. I passed her at the bitter end, only because she had stopped to partake in her post-race martini. In a Gatorade bottle...classic. And then, at mile 21, I met my sixth and last best friend of the day. Phil and I had played leap frog for a bunch of miles, and so, when we were not close to but not far from home, I asked him if I could run with him for a while. He said "Sure, but I am doing some walking". I said, "Great. So am I". And I was introduced to the Galloway method. I may be a convert. We ran and we talked, and at intervals that were a mystery to me, we walked. We passed for the final time Diesel and Rolly. We passed TNT runners (one more heartfelt "GO TEAM!" and I was going to have to channel my inner bitch). We ran companionably. I would have asked him to marry me, but he had a wedding ring on. I figured his wife might take offense. Mile 24, and Phil said we were at 3:59. We walked the requiste minute, and then I abandoned my last best friend of the day. I ran the last 2.2 in about 18 minutes, ignoring everything but my aching need to finish. Run and pass, run and pass. Looked at the almost finish clock. I could hear the cheering, and then saw the crowd and the finish. 50 feet on the track, chirp chirp, and I staggered into the volunteers, where a kind young thing dumped a bottle of water down my neck. I guess she was my seventh new best friend. I waited for Phil, who finished a couple or 3 minutes later, and got a post race "attaboy" and a hug.

Post Race. I picked my way, slowly and in agony, to the post race area. I got some Cold Stone Creamery strawberry ice cream and a cookie. I looked for the bag drop, but couldn't find it. I was totally engulfed in post race brain fog when I heard someone call my name. There was Nellie, who finished better than she had the year prior. And so I got my t-shirt back. That, however, wasn't all that I got back. Sitting on the bus, waiting for it to ferry us back to our various hotels, I was a marathoner among other marathoners.

It is raining

2010-05-30T20:18:00.000-07:00

It is a Florida kind of rain tonight....hard rain, then soft rain, then some thunder and hard rain and then soft rain. Summer in Florida. I hurt -- shoulders, legs, and feet. But not my back, wonder of all. My bed, the kindest place on earth, beckons. College boy let me take him for sushi to celebrate his work and my work. I am sated and tired. I will struggle through work tomorrow, but for tonight, I will let my bed and linens coddle me while I listen to the rain and soft thunder lullaby me down.

Race recap to come

2010-05-30T20:01:00.000-07:00

4:18 and some change. I haven't digested it all enough to blog about it, but I did it. No, I didn't make my pie-in-the-sky fantasy goal, but I totally smoked my realistic goal, and my kinda sorta realistic goal. And I smoked my probably not going to happen goal. I finished hard, I finished fast, and I finished upright. I thought that I finished in about 4:22 or so, but I forgot that I waited for a bit before I stepped into the stream of runners. I am 47 years old, and I haven't done a full marathon in over 4 years, and I still turned in a 4:18. I can live with that. I'll let you know when I quit smiling. Yay me.

Leavin' On A Jet Plane...

2010-05-28T05:54:00.000-07:00

Remember that song? What a sappy song. Anyway. I am off. I have my glide, my gu, and my glasses. And my running skirt. Some new Balaga socks, too. My shuffle is all charged up and I have remembered to pack my camera. I can't guarantee remembering to use it, however. Most importantly, I have my xanax so that I can medicate my way though my fear of flying. I have my car rental info, directions and itinerary. I just have to figure out what to wear today and then I can go. It is always the details that get me.

Ain't no way

2010-05-26T12:09:00.000-07:00

I can't do this. I just can't. I am old and fat and tired and broken-down in too many places. What in the hell was I thinking when I registered to run a marathon?? I couldn't even run 5 miles today without walking -- how am I going to make it through 26.2 on Saturday? Oh.My.God. I can't do it. There just ain't no way.

When they write my obituary, make sure that it says, "Sarah was a nice girl, but damnation, was she stupid! She knew better, but she did it anyway, and now she's dead." And don't bury me with my running shoes on, because they stink.

I hate bananas.

2010-05-24T20:05:00.000-07:00

I hate bananas. I despise them, really. I hate the taste, loathe the smell, and the consistency nauseates me. But they are quite high in potassium, and runners need that (so are oranges, just sayin'). So almost to a man, runners love bananas. Except me. They hand out bananas like government cheese at races. Bananas and brown apples. Yuk. Prolly will have lots of bananas and brown apples and all that stuff at Bayshore, which I am not talking about anymore. I hurt everywhere. No lie. I can barely walk half of the time. My back is killing me. 800 of advil 3 times a day is barely touching me. But. I will finish. I leave on Friday.

Had a patient this week who had a potassium level of 1.8 (very, very low). Yikes! Heart rate was a little erratic, but nothing major, still, I kept a close watch. I dumped lots of IV potassium into her through her little peripheral IV. And her little IV held up. Until it didn't. So I started a new one. And it held up. Until it didn't. And so I paged her doc. When he called me back, I asked for a PICC line (Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter). I explained the situation (potassium is highly caustic and burns up little veins, and this patient needed tons of potassium), and he agreed that she should have a PICC. "Thank you" I said. "No, thank YOU", he said with utter grace. I understood what he meant. Three small words and I felt better about my nursing career than I have in a good long while.

Still not thinking about the marathon. Nope. Not at all.

On judiciously calling in

2010-05-19T20:39:00.000-07:00

Monday, May 17.

Woke up this morning at 0-dark-30, as usual. Clipped my nails to the quick, as usual (nurse thing). Showered, got backpacks ready, did all the morning stuff, and went to wake up the small people. Kissed KT once. I kiss her first, just to sort of wake her. Then I kiss Jillian a thousand times, because she would prefer to sleep rather than wake. After I manage to wake Jillie, I kiss KT again, and she is open to the day. But this morning, after KT's first kiss, Jillian feels like a branding iron, and her little cheeks are bright pink. Not sleep pink, but fever pink. She is resty, so I let her sleep. KT is not yet awake, and so I let HER sleep. I call in to work and then slip back into my sleep scrubs. 20 minutes later, when dawn was just breaking, I had both small people in my room next to my bed sobbing. They knew it was a work day, and they knew that they were supposed to be up before dawn. They thought that I had left them without saying goodbye. It doesn't take a heart surgeon to take your heart out and stomp all over it...it just takes 2 little girls who thought they were left behind. Not that it has ever happened. Not that it ever will. But there is no reasoning with small people who feel lost.

And so I tucked them into bed with me, fever-girl closest, hand holding the other over fever-girl's head. Love can stretch over continents. But sometimes love is only encompassed in the breadth of a bed.

I ran 4 miles. Thats what the schedule said. I have a blister on my right arch....but I think those big bandaids are working. I don't seem to be raising a blister (and with it the new tissue, which is what I am really worried about). Am hopeful that I will form a callus. It is easier to focus on calluses than marathons.

Total: 4 miles

Taper. Could it suck more??

2010-05-19T14:17:00.000-07:00

Sunday, May 16th.

This marathon is in jeopardy. I am blowing up at all the wrong times. I had 15 scheduled, and I had the legs to do at least most of it, but I was working on getting a blister in my right arch. Bandaids were helping, but they only lasted 10 of the 15 miles. I tried going further, but decided that the injury wasn't going to be worth the distance. At this point, I can go 26.2 or I can't. I will know that in about 10 days.

Blisters are innocuous, but they are still something that needs reckoning. I have damaged that delicate arch tissue, and I don't have time for repair and replacement. I have NOT, however, damaged the tissue to where the only outcome is repair and replacement. I was smart enough to stop running before I had a full-blown blister (and all the new virgin tissue below it). So, I may have enough time to form a small callus. I may be able to run with some heavy-duty taping and be just fine. Or I might just have to walk the whole damned thing. Whatever.

Other than that, I have PF in both feet, my lower back is shot, my right IT is tight, I am fat and I am generally bitchy on all fronts. I have patience for no one. I hate people who are fast and can run pain free. And I hate people who don't have to run at all. And sick people piss me off. Oh wait. I am a hospital nurse. Go figure. Taper. There is a special place in hell for whoever designed taper.

Miles for week: somewhere over 30. Who the hell cares anymore.

2010-05-15T20:33:00.000-07:00

Appointment-Guy doesn't think that I am clinically depressed. Nope. He does not. I was working that angle trying to get some drugs. And I was doing that because I am not feeling better, even after the house closed. Even after the Judge ruled that yes, I was entitled to my nice check. And even after I deposited that check. I don't feel better. I feel....hollow. Empty. Not happy, not sad. Not hopeful. Just worn so thin that you can see through my soul. So I must be depressed, right? And if so, bring on the meds. Better living through chemistry, I say.

But no. Au contraire. I am not so much depressed as I am depleted. I have been my own little gusher of emotional giving for more years than I can count -- truly. Which, in and of itself is a good thing. The BAD thing is that for all those years of giving, I haven't, for one reason or the next, been able to put good stuff in the well. And now I am dry. I am sucking mud and trying to turn it into blue skies and lilies. I could keep it going when my feet were to the fire, but now they aren't anymore. Deepwater Horizon should consult me about how to completely shut down a well.

New marching orders. I will not precept any more new nurses. I love doing it, but precepting takes too much out of me, therefore now is not the time for me to do that job. I will not work overtime or extra shifts, unless it is to my personal advantage. I will go out to lunch with another adult every week. I will make time and make the effort to do things with other people. I will put myself first for a while. I will put myself first even before my children for a while (ok, how hard is that going to be??). I will do things that make ME happy for the sake of increasing my happiness. I will be cognizant of the need to fill my cistern so that I can again give to all the people I love to help.

Most interesting, and haunting. Appointment-Guy pointed out to me that after I left the devil, I probably thought that I would emerge with a life. Afterall, I had one in Raleigh. A fun group of friends who went places together. I had a fairly active social life, and a small close circle of friends. In FL, not so much. Abuse and DV limits interactions with others. So when I left, I had people to help me, but not many friends. And then I went to work, and was frantic for so long...not so conducive to cultivating friendships. Appointment-Guy said when I left, I found that all I was was alive, when I expected to have a life. They are different things. So Job 1 is to start making a life for myself. I started today. I skipped my 5 mile run in order to have enough time to go to the Tampa Aquarium with a newish friend and all of our kids. We had a wonderful time. Big people got to sit and chat at the splash pad while small people played. I feel guilty about skipping the run, but I think I chose wisely. I may not have put much into my well, but I didn't feel the blanket of fatigue at the end of the day, either.

Love notes

2010-05-12T19:44:00.000-07:00

I write on napkins. I don't do it every day, but I do it a lot. I even went out and bought a huge box of colored Sharpie markers so that I could expand my napkin writing boundaries. My hearts are many-hued, but my sentiments are simple. I slip napkin love notes into lunch boxes, like a midday hug that makes small people happy. And once in awhile, like today, small people slip a napkin love note into MY lunch box, and I get that midday hug that makes Mama happy.

Thoughts on Nursing.

2010-05-11T20:44:00.000-07:00

Nursing care is the reason someone is admitted to the hospital. If you only needed Doctor care, you would go to your MD's office, and be cared for. If you need more care than a Doc can provide in the office, you go to the hospital, because what you are really in need of is nursing care. It is a coin, patient care. It has an obverse and a reverse. Docs provide patient cure, nurses provide patient care. You can't have one without the other. What hospital RNs do is start the IV, draw the blood, give the meds, monitor the electrolytes and other lab values, monitor vital signs, notify the doc with lab/patient changes, provide educational and emotional support to patients and families, bathe the patient, do dressing changes, consult with social workers to make sure said patient has sufficient discharge support, call in ancillary departments should the patient need respiratory therapy or physical therapy, and if all else fails, run the code when the patient arrests in one fashion or another. That sentence alone would make you think that nurses are important. Cause when mama goes into the hospital, she will depend on her nurse. Not her RT. Not her PT. Maybe not even her Doc. But truly, the quality of her hospital stay will hinge on her nurse. I wear a stupid, goofy button that says "Nursing Excellence. I believe." 'Nuff said.

Mistake-Guy, that I recently dated, referred to nurses as "stupid nurses" more than once. That rocked my world. I am not yet over it, partially because I asked a doc that likes me tons, who respects me, and whom I really respect, about a blurb I read in a medical journal about doctors' true feelings concerning nurses (so not good). He told me that when he was a resident in NY, even the ICU nurses were severely limited in their scope of practice and therefore, docs just kind of discounted nurses. Discount the nurse. Discount the very person that is in charge of keeping the patient alive. What I do is important, and sometimes life and death important. Yet in my workplace, there are people who minimalize what I do. There are more than a few people who use the words "dumb" and "nurse" in the same phrase. It leaves me dumbfounded.

Last week was Nurses' Week. At my hospital, we were not cherished or celebrated. We were encouraged to give to several charities. No lunch, no trinket, no confirmation of the importance of nurses to the hospital. It wasn't in the budget, and nursing is always the biggest cost center in a hospital. I love what I do. I am always an advocate for my patients, in whatever form that takes. But the love for what I do may not be able to withstand the despair I am beginning to feel. I am not a stupid, expendable nurse. I may be the only one to believe that, tho. What I do is important, and what I do counts. I am one of the backbones of my unit. If I feel this way, well, how do the less experienced RNs feel?

Oh, I ran today. My foot is killing me and I am getting a blister in the right arch. Geez.

Total: 8 miles
Total for week: 11 miles.

3 mile Monday

2010-05-11T12:53:00.001-07:00

May 10, 2010

3 miles this morning. I was supposed to do 4-5, but I didn't want to be late to work, therefore I only did 3 miles. I am glad that taper is starting. My legs are just dead. ugh.

On the bright side, I didn't have to play preceptor at work today. I got to just do my job the way I like to do my job, and not have to constantly teach, explain, direct, and all that stuff. And, I got to keep my charts all lined up in numerical order, which makes me happy. I am just like that.

Total: 3 miles

The last long run

2010-05-10T20:09:00.000-07:00

Saturday, May 8th

I ran 20 miles. Except that I didn't. But I did run most of it, and I tried. I talked to myself, I cajoled, I made bargains with God. (Just in case you didn't know this, God doesn't bargain. I learned that first-hand.) I simply kept placing one foot in front of the next until I didn't have to anymore. I finished and it was ugly, it was awful, it was all those things. I started late, and finished later in the Florida sun. I don't think that heat really bothers me, but maybe I am wrong. My lack of fortitude is just that. I talk a good game, but when it comes down to it, I don't have much of a game to talk about. Still, I try. I hate that I have to take this last long run with me into my first marathon in years. I am a keystroke away from quitting. I can't do it. I want to make the distance in a respectable time, but I know that I can't and the thought just sucks the life out of me. What I ought to do is jettison the need to run a marathon as hard and as fast as my poor body can go. What I want, and what I really need to embrace, is running long for FUN. How many of us do that??? Why don't we do that? More importantly, why don't I do that? Time is just that. Time. This thing that I am going to do in a few weeks is important to no one but me. No one cares about my time. My result won't cap the oil well in the gulf, it won't fix the economy or the health care crisis, and it won't bring our soldiers home from the Middle East. My time in a race won't feed my family or put a roof over our heads. So, my goal has to shift to completing the distance while having a mostly good time doing it. Much more reasonable.

Miles: 20
Miles for week:46

12 miles on the mill. Intervals.

2010-05-07T19:00:00.000-07:00

Thursday, May 7

Because I missed my run on Monday, I made myself run a little farther on Tuesday, and today, interval day, I added another couple of milesto my run. It is one of my OCD things. I need 50 miles this week. Actually, I don't NEED them (not like air or water) but I will get stuck on stuff like that. Anyway, I did 12 miles with 11 3/4 mile repeats. I ran inside because, again, I was house-bound in the morning with a puking girl. It is getting to be like shampoo directions. Lather, rinse, repeat. Get sick, get better, repeat. Anyway, I wasn't free to run until after 1pm, and man, it was already 90* and humid. So I chose wisely like a grasshopper and ran inside. 2 mile warm up, 11 repeats, and a cool down. Done. The first 6 were kind of easy -- fast for me, slow for most -- the next 2 were kind of hard, and the last 3 were no-doubt-about-it hard. I made it though, and that is what counts.

Plus for the week. On Tuesday, I had to go to court. (Again. It gets old) New judge, as the previous judge recused himself. New judge gave us a 15 minute slot. New judge made his decision in under 10 minutes. Fastest. Hearing. Ever. Immediately after the hearing, I drove to my attorney's office and received a check for a very, very, very nice amount, exactly as spelled out in the divorce judgement. I rushed said check over to the bank to deposit it, but, in my hurry, I forgot the endorsement. Long story short, the teller and I were both cheering as she deposited my nice check. I now have the down payment on my future home in my possession. Wow. It means a lot. And then more than that.

Total: 12 miles
Total for week: 25 miles

The strangest thing

2010-05-05T19:09:00.000-07:00

Monday, May 3.

This is the last week (well, maybe next to last) of hard running before I taper for Bayshore. I don't feel well-trained. I mostly feel well-worn. My expectation for the race is simply to finish (the fantasy is to run fabulously and come in sub-4, but really, it is a fantasy. A girl can dream...).

I had 6 miles slated to run after work, but the strangest thing happened to me. I woke up Monday morning, and my lower legs were a little bit swollen -- puffy, like I had been standing all day. The swelling worsened during my shift (lots and lots of standing and walking), and by the time I got home, I had some serious (4+) pitting edema going on. That means that I could press my fingers into my shins and leave dents that were close to a centimeter deep. Not only that, the edema extended to almost my waist. My legs were so stiff and tight that I couldn't have sat back on my haunches if I had tried. I tried to do my six miles, but I simply could not run. I just couldn't. I had dinner with a friend, and then went to bed. In the morning, my legs were a little better, maybe +2 edema, but my face was swollen, and my eyes were so puffy. It was very worrisome to me.

13 miles later (well, 12 running miles, 1 walking mile) in the sun found the facial swelling mostly gone. My legs were less puffy, but not normal. I deal with patients who have swelling like this on a routine basis. I know a bunch of reasons why I might be so edematous, and I wanted to consider none of them. I took an OTC diuretic, and went on about my business, which was to help my children shelter a lost dog for the night.

Today, I talked to my ARNP. We are not worried about me having cardiac issues. My last EKG, showed sinus brady, which was expected. I have had renal issues in the past, but they were related to pre-eclamptic pregnancies. The swelling was bilateral and was almost resolved, so she wasn't suspicious of a DVT. So the usual suspects were ruled out. What came to light, however, is that I ran 20 miles in the suddenly-summer heat and humidity. I put forth a huge effort, and followed it up with 5 hours in the full Florida sun at the zoo with small people. I tend to have waves of nausea now and again during long runs, and post-run, my gut can't handle food. When it can, I tend to eat pretzels and the like -- things that are easily digested. What I don't eat is protein. What I do is beat my body up and then forget to replenish it. I don't do recovery. At all. My ARNP thinks that my piss-poor recovery caused me to have depleted albumin, which caused me to have such bad swelling. Moral of the story? I need to eat protein the day before a long run and the day of the long run. Most people do this. I need to join the ranks of most people. Duh.

Total: 13 miles
Total for week: 13 miles

20 miles and a trip to the zoo

2010-05-02T09:17:00.000-07:00

Saturday, May 1

My long runs have all been hard for me. I have yet to have one of those runs where I just breeze along effortlessly and all of a sudden 17 miles are in the bag. I have struggled with each and every long run this training cycle. Still, yesterday's 20 miler was less difficult than the long runs of the 2 previous weeks. I still had a "down" period between miles 16 and 18, and the first three miles were quite gimpy, but all in all it was a less than horrible long run. I started at 6:40, when it was fairly humid but cool; I finished 3.5 hours later in the full-on Florida sun. I am hopeful that it won't be 75* and humid at the start of Bayshore, and more hopeful that it won't be 85* when I finish. You never know, tho. If it is, well, I can't say that I haven't trained for that kind of weather.

I finished the run, hopped into the car and drove home. I drank half of a beer (why does beer taste good after a long run? I don't even like beer), showered and tumbled the small people into the car. We picked up a friend and her small person, and spend the next 5 hours under the sunny Florida skies at the Lowry Park Zoo. 20 miles in the morning, followed by 5 hours of walking in the afternoon. Gotta love it. The kids had a great time. Made it home in one piece, fixed supper, drank some wine and hit the hay. I woke up 12 hours later. My feet hurt today. Ya think???

Miles: 20+ a smoot
Total for week: Kissing 50

What Mama finds next to her bed

2010-04-29T21:12:00.000-07:00

I went to change my linens tonight. It is a kind of ritual for me. Ok, it is part of my OCD. Don't laugh, because we all have OCD. In fact, I think that knowing someone's OCD is a really important and intimate part of knowing anyone. You can deal with that part of someone or you can't. Basic, stuff, really. Anyway, I was changing my linens, and while doing so, I saw the mini bed next to mine. A mini bed where none had been in the morning. It was made from a hot pink fleece blanket and was appointed with many lovely (read, all of my nice down) pillows. So inviting it was. Some small person must have made a nest and a haven in the shadow of my haven. Made me smile.

~11 miles in new shoes. My legs are tired. It is hard to run now. I run alone, and I am tired of running along. But I run. And today I ran in new shoes. It helped. At this point, I need whatever help I can get.

Total: ~11 miles
Total for week: ~29 miles

How to tell if your shoes are dead

2010-04-29T13:23:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, April 27.

You know that your shoes are dead (and not just the first pair, but the second pair, too) when your knees hurt, and you don't have knee issues. Your ankles hurt, and you don't have ankle issues. Your hips hurt, and you don't have hip issues. Your back hurts, and you -- wait, I do have back issues, so strike that one. I have 2 new pair of Hurricanes ordered. They should be here tomorrow. I wish I was one of those folks who get 600 miles out of a pair of shoes, but I'm not. I get 350, maybe 400 miles, max. But I choose to do this, so it is what it is.

12 miles, most of which was accomplished by running, but some was walked. All of the above things were hurting, and I am at the part of training where my legs are just tired a lot of the time. I go up the stairs, and I feel the effort of my quads. I walk all day at work and I am aware of the additional fatigue in my legs in the afternoon. I am not a high mileage runner, and for the past few years have been a very low mileage runner, so the tiredness is noticeable. I am just at that place on the journey. If all goes well, I will log close to 50 miles this week, and over 50 next week. It is inspiring and intimidating --yin and yang. But, but, I have an ace in the hole; tomorrow, while I am being a worker-bee, saving lives and slinging pills, UPS will deliver a package to my house. In it will be two new pair of shoes. I guess what I am really saying is: Game On.

Total: 12 miles
Total for week: 18 miles

I got canceled.

2010-04-27T14:44:00.000-07:00

Monday, April 26

I got the call at 5:32 am. Belen, night charge, in her Tagalog accent said, "Saaaraaah. You are canceled today. What other day are you going to work?" (You don't get canceled for free, apparently) I told her that Friday would do, and I turned over and went back to sleep. Until 10:30. And then? I sat in bed and read and talked on the phone until 3pm. After that, I collected the twirly girls from the bus stop, messed around at home for a bit and finally went to the gym, where I staggered through 6 miles on the treadmill. Its official -- my shoes are toast. So I went home and ordered 2 new pair for under $140. Gotta love Donnie.

God looked out for me today. I needed to be canceled because my babysitters had meetings at school, and College-Boy had an exam late in the afternoon. So I had no child care. Again. It gets old. But, I was canceled, and for now, it is all good.

Total: 6 miles.

Forget about it

2010-04-25T19:50:00.000-07:00

Let's just deep-six this run. Two bad long runs in a row would have me questioning all sorts of gods and deities and stuff. So...let's just chalk this run up to "LIFE CHANGING FRIDAY THAT LASTED ALL DAY" and poor hydration. I felt ok through the first 10 or so, but when I went south, I went south in a hurry. I was ok, and next thing I knew, I wasn't. I did, and ran, what I could, in the lovely Florida sunshine. I hope that my run-walk in Traverse City is as pretty as my Florida miles. Yeah, that's what I'm telling myself.

Total miles: 16 (dislike)
Total miles for week: 40.

This Is It Friday.

2010-04-25T18:05:00.000-07:00

April 23

The day it all happened. Well, not really. What happened was that my house, the house that I left after the day my life changed, the house that holds most financial ties to the ex, the house that harbors the possibility of a new stability for me and my kids -- I closed on that house. The money that was tied up in real estate is now liquid. That is huge. It represents a future for us that is solid. Considering that a judge will have to distribute the funds, and that much argument will be made, and considering that things just never go quite as planned, I expect to get my share sometime before the next millennium. I care not. Because now, now I can dream. Not plan, mind you, but dream. I can dream of paint and gardens and appointing a kitchen and maybe of a dog and of all the things that families that are permanently permanent are. I can't smile about it yet. I can't even really think about it yet. I don't even know if I wrap my poor, sorry mind around it yet, but one day, not soon, I will will have a home of my own. A place that I can put down roots, and grow my children like flowers. The blessing of Friday was that now I can dream and wish and hope for us and know that I really may be able to make some of those dreams and wishes and hopes come true.

I ran Friday, too much and too hard --all to run away from the stress of the day. 8 miles with 6 x 3/4 mile repeats (it sounds impressive...just laugh when you read it). They were easy. I paid for it on Saturday, but I digress. I just needed to run away from the stress of the closing. Look, when the title agent and attorney are in tears, there are issues. When no one can keep track of the sheer volume of emails, there are issues. When calling in the ex's BIG BROTHER (literally) to make the closing happen occurs, there are issues. I was in a pressure cooker, and it didn't end until around 7pm. I cried. I shook. I felt like pieces of me might explode from the pressure. I was kind and dignified at closing, and all day I was a complete mess. Except, except when I was running. And so I ran farther and harder than I should have. I ran. And I ran. And it helped.

Total: 8 miles
Total for week: 24 miles

Tuesday Eleven (I Got My Hair Done)

2010-04-21T20:06:00.000-07:00

Is there anything better than getting your hair done? Well, let me codicil that. Is there anything better than getting your hair done when 1) you are in need, 2) your stylist has been your stylist for years and is now your friend, 3) you need a chance to just sit and be? And so, my dark is now less dark with highlights. I am embracing spring and summer with a sweet new do. Next week -- small people get their hair done. What a gift, to have a place where all the girls, the girly-girls and the not so girly ones, can go and get fluffed and puffed just the right amount. We just love Connie, and she loves us.

11 miles that were supposed to be 12, but I got talking to a girlfriend and wasted precious time and so I only could do 11 (well, 11.5) before I had to get my hair done. Let's face it. Run v Hair. No contest.

I walked some. Not so good at that 2 runs in 12 hours thing, but it wasn't horrible. Maybe the marathon won't be horrible. HA!

Total: 11 miles and new spring hair
Total for week: 16 miles.

Shhh. Dirty Secret.

2010-04-21T19:39:00.000-07:00

Monday, April 19

I like running in the rain. I like running in the rain after a long day at work. Running after work (remember, I work 12 (*cough-13-cough*) hour shifts) never means a run longer than a few miles. My legs start out tired, but generally they don't get any more tired than when they started. I always think of running after work as money in the bank....if I can start and finish on about an even keel, well, it is all to the good.

Monday, we had storms come through. Thunder, lightning --July in April. It was just kind of spitting rain when I started, and I started late due to a long, long day and long, long report. I took Pink Shuffle with me, even though she doesn't like the rain. Who knew that it would cease spitting and decide to start a lovely spring downpour? Pink Shuffle had to hide in my pocket. But I kept on, in the rain. Just running. Avoiding deep puddles. (Even if I am soaked to the bone, and my feet are saturated, I hate stepping in puddles to my ankles. Personal quirk) So, 5 miles, nicely tucked in after a long day on my feet. I don't want to run a marathon in the rain, but a few miles, at the cusp of night, when the rain is beating and the wind whipping, well, those few miles make me remember how vibrant I am.

Total: 5 miles
Total for week: 5 miles

Damn-assed Stupid.

2010-04-18T18:43:00.000-07:00

Don't ask. Don't tell. And don't, for goodness sake, let STUFF involve itself with a long run. Either commit or don't. Be all in, or be out. You can't fake a long, long run. You just can't. I found that out the hard way. My 2o miler ended up being a pitiful, horrible (yeah, you knew better, so deal with it and don't whine about it, it was your own fault) run. 20 turned into 15, and it was only that much because I was too damned stubborn to quit before that. Apparently, I will be walking most of the Bayshore course.

Sometimes I could just kick myself. I stack my failures up, and don't offset them with anything. I did see the SPCA walk for pets, which was cool, but I wasn't feeling it. Dodging dogs and walkers in myriad wasn't working for me, but I really appreciated the cause. Geez. Maybe next week will be better.

Appointment Guy said to fill up time with things that augment me. So, after the sucky long run, small people and I went on a picnic. Their choice. A picnic in the secret garden and play spot. They picnicked, ran about, explored and picked contraband flowers. I laid on our soft blanket and read. And napped. So tired, I was. Still, we successfully traversed the day.

Total: 15 miles
Total for week: 43 miles.

Blessings.

2010-04-18T18:00:00.000-07:00

My hard stuff is hard. Yet, I don't want to compare it to anyone ease's hard stuff because I don't know what their hard stuff is. I haven't had a child die. I have not experienced any serious medical issue. I do not worry about my health, nor do I worry about my children's health. My parents are still alive. I am not bankrupt, and I am not unemployed. I am always on the edge of okay. Imagine, should you be old enough to remember vaudeville shows, the plate spinner. That is me. I spin plates. Children. Work. Home. Childcare. Meals. Church. Running. Children. Me. I keep all of them spinning, but all of the plates wobble. It takes all that I have to keep the plates spinning, to keep the balls in the air. I have me to depend on. I have no family here. I have me, only me.

Appointment Guy had me make a list of the people that I could call on for help; a list of people that I could depend on. The list was longer than I expected. Gosh. Who knew? I fail to recognize so many of the blessings in my life. (Right now, my daughter is puting lipgloss on me, and brushing my hair. She thinks I am beautiful. A blessing) I have people who are not related to me, but who may be there for me no matter what. It humbles me.

Friday I ran 4 miles on the treadmill. I ran inside because my allergies are killing me, and I had 20 to do on Saturday. I didn't want to be triggered more than necessary, but dang, those four mile were hard. Not running hard, just boring hard. I did them, tucked them under the belt.

Total: 4ish miles
Total for week: 28ish miles

Mother and Child

2010-04-16T05:46:00.000-07:00

I haven't ever seen Mother and Child depicted in Tulip form. It was a sweet surprise and a gift to me during a time when all my surprises seem to be ugly and gifts are few. Something to relish and to cherish.

9 miles with 8x3/4 mile repeats on the treadmill yesterday. Legs weren't happy to be running, but they didn't complain enough to make me stop. I have 4-6 miles scheduled for today and another long 20 for Saturday. I am getting to the part of the schedule where the intensity starts to wear on me, but I will handle it. Every day is different, and according to Appointment Guy, my job is just to focus on the matters at hand of the day. I am supposed to be here, now. It is harder to do than I had expected, but I am working on it.

Miles: 9
Total Miles: 24

Tuesday Eleven

2010-04-15T13:23:00.000-07:00

April 13, 2010

11 miles, none of them special. My legs were tired. My heart rate climbed again -- I am beyond ready for allergy season to be over. I think that taking so much zyrtec makes me a little sluggish. And I surely am over having to talk little walk breaks during an 11 mile run. I should be well past that. Anyway, 11 miles that finally started feeling semi-decent along about mile 10.

Total: 11 miles
Total for week: 14 miles

Monday. Just Monday

2010-04-12T20:45:00.000-07:00

You know, I am getting a little tired of being inundated with drahhhhma. There is way too much of it in my life, and it wears on me. My edges fray and my fabric loosens. Lately, the tethers that bind me to hearth and home and the vital part of everything are thinning. And so, I choose, I CHOOSE, to give to God today's teeming bowl of insults and upsets. God has to get this one, this day, for me, because I just can't. So God gets to handle today. I have faith that He will give today's drama back to me when my coping skills are back to firing on all cylinders.

I choose, instead to open a very, very lovely Chateau Meyney 1989 Bordeaux. Such a silken finish. A superb wine is a gift. A superb wine after today is a great, great gift. Oh my. This was a very good idea. Such a lovely finish. A nice way to end a day like today.

4 miles after work. I ran them because that is what the magic schedule dictates. And how can I possible argue with The Magic Schedule? (but they were easy miles, inside because I have 12 to run outside tomorrow and my allergies are still triggered) So, I have a fabulous glass of wine (which makes tomorrow or the next day look very promising), Lyle Lovett for my listening pleasure, and I don't have to get up until 7am. I'll take that.

Total: 4 miles

The First Twenty

2010-04-10T13:51:00.000-07:00

I wish that I had one of those well-ordered lives. You know the kind -- no one is ever late for an appointment. No one misses a game or an event because of scheduling conflicts. Meals are on-time and healthy. Homework is never done at the last minute. Laundry and chores are completed in a timely manner, bedtimes are strictly adhered to, and Sunday School is well-attended. Heck, I am sure that sex is scheduled, too. Everything goes off like clockwork, without a hitch, every day.

This occurs to me because my life is pretty close to being the antithesis of that life. I am fairly organized in a lot of ways, simply because if I wasn't the wheels would fall off this train. But once you get away from the basic organization, man, there just ain't no tellin' what will happen. We plan in pencil, Chez Sarah. Yesterday, for example. We all got up on time, dressed and out the door on schedule. And by mid-morning, life at work was spinning out of control. 4 of 5 patients (and the families) had issues. And not minor issues, either. My preceptee and I just could not stay on task or stay on schedule. We were being pulled in so many directions that I am surprised neither of us lost a limb or at least a finger. It was bad enough that when Boarder Collie Surgeon (great guy -- look, a chicken!) showed up to check on my one patient who was behaving, I started talking fast and furiously, explaining the patient's condition and telling the doc what to do. He looked at me funny and said "Sarah, did you forget to take your ativan today or what? Lets just get the chart and you can tell me what to order". Doh! I don't usually get frazzled like that. Anyway, when the dust of the day settled, and I finally was on my way home, I realized that the Relay for Life thing that I had scheduled to do was out of my reach for the night. I was supposed to be there, was supposed to walk. But I wasn't and I didn't. I worried and fretted and waited for my mind to settle down, and when it did, I went to bed. You see, tomorrow's schedule included my first 20 mile run in 4 years.

The alarm went off at its appointed time. I dutifully sat up, turned the alarm off and went back to sleep, the rationale being that I had all day to run 20 miles, so why start now when I am still tired? The rational side of me knows better, and the rational side of me knows that I got lucky today. I intentionally went slowly and carefully, because, at 11:15 it was sunny, warm and windy. The run was fairly strong through the first 15 miles, but miles 16 - 18 were kind of ugly. I had to do some walking, but I kept moving. The last two miles were not as bad as they could have been, and actually, I had the legs to go farther, but only the fuel to gut out 20. All in all, this was a better long run than any of my previous ones. I was mentally tougher than previously, and that made a good bit of difference. 20 miles would have been easier with a running buddy, but I got through it by myself. It is fire season here, so dry and windy. I noticed that during my run, my shirt and shorts were barely wet, and by the end I looked like a powered sugar donut. I didn't smell like one, tho.

Total: 20 miles
Total for week: 44.5 miles

Precepting New Nurses.

2010-04-09T21:12:00.001-07:00

I am a preceptor at work. That means that I teach and guide nurses new to my hospital the ways of the hospital. It is something that I take seriously. I want the baby nurses to succeed. I want the "returning to work" nurses to succeed and feel accepted and comfortable, because those nurses have so many outside influences tugging on them. In some ways, it is easier to be a brand new minted nurse than one who has been out of the game for a few years. Experienced nurses can't claim "babyhood" anymore. They have to find the wheelhouse fast. And that is so hard to do. I have learned that I can't make it happen for anyone. I can want and pray and encourage and explain and hope and teach -- but I cannot force anyone into the comfortable place. They have to get there on their own. I am their hand to hold. I am their brain to access. I am their shoulder to lean on, and their person to ask for help. They all know this. But, ultimately, they have to stand on their own, almost from the start. That is what we require of the people who take care of our people. My new-back-to-work nurse is awesome. But she is scared. She used to be an ICU nurse in a small hospital. Now she is a floor nurse on a floor that takes patients WAY more critical than she was used to having. And now she has to care for five at a time. And she has had a lot of days like today. But that is how we are. Still, she has me, and I don't let my babies fail. I just don't.

Sarah Sees Her Mechanic

2010-04-08T18:03:00.000-07:00

My physical mechanic, that's what I call Greg. Done got the chassis worked on today, yes I did. From my lower back on down, I got kneaded, rubbed, pushed, pulled and maneuvered. My adductors (all of them) hate me. They got thoroughly probed and prodded. Thank goodness Greg has mastered that draping of the blanket thing, cause he was up close where I am personal and you can't wear your skivvies when you visit the mechanic. I think I feel better, tho. I know that my range of motion is better. Tomorrow I will need some ice and advil, and I know that I will be tender and sore in some spots, but a lot of the "stickiness" is gone. I have my stretching orders in hand and another appointment in three weeks.

Ten miles on the treadmill today. 2 mile warm up, followed by 8 x 3/4 mile repeats, with .10 mile recovery. I ended with about a mile of cooldown. I ran inside because my allergies are horrible and I have 20 miles to do this weekend. I decided that further triggering my allergies wasn't really in my long run's best interest, so Pink Shuffle and I suffered along indoors instead.

Total: 10 miles
Total for week: 24.5 miles

Tomorrow I see Greg.

2010-04-07T18:00:00.000-07:00

Greg. Tomorrow I see Greg. I love seeing Greg. He doesn't make my heart pitter-pat. He talks a whole lot more than he ought to, which means he babbles. He is a sweetie, but no one is going to offer him a Rhodes Scholarship. Or a scholarship of any kind. Still, I love to see Greg. He is my physical mechanic. His license states that he is a Licensed Massage Therapist, but he is really a mechanic. He fixes my "itis-es", he massages my tight muscles, ligaments and tendons. All my deep tissues groan at the release, but he fixes me. As long as there is nothing truly orthopedically wrong with me, like a stress fracture, Greg is the go-to guy for the fix. Nothing is wrong with me, not seriously wrong with me, at the moment. I have some tightness in my IT bands. I have some not minor but not major tendonitis in my feet. My PF is quiet. But, I am working the years, and so I think some preventative maintenance is in order. The kinks are starting to accumulate, and this marathon is important to me. My Babysitting Goddess will watch the Small People (rather, take them to her powder-puff football game -- she plays defense. She broke her finger 2 weeks ago. I do love her.). And I will get a tune up.

Another Tuesday Ten

2010-04-07T02:15:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, April 6

I couldn't control my heartrate today. I think most likely it is because we are having a horrible allergy season. I am so allergic to oak pollen, and it is just raining that stuff here. So I take zyrtec, which makes me sleepy and lethargic; it also dries me out. Between the drugs and the dehydration (oh, and the heat -- it was in the upper 70s), my heartrate was well into the 150-160 range. 140s, I can run forever. 160s, not so much. Anyway, 10 more in the bank.

My retail therapy dress arrived today. One of the many pluses of having small people who fancy themselves fashionistas is that they can help me decide of retail therapy dress stays or gets returned. The decision? Exchange said dress for a different print. They liked the dress, not the pattern.

Total: 10 miles
Total for week: 14.5 miles

A Problem with Blogging

2010-04-05T21:07:00.000-07:00

Titles. You have to title these things. Oh, and for your blog to be cool, you have to have pictures and stuff and more stuff...and I don't know how to do that stuff. And the guy that I let myself love and who knew how to do that stuff isn't here anymore. So, I have a plain-Jane blog with no bling. The content is what it is, and I am responsible for it, but the decor, well, it is hard to be responsible for that stuff that is way out of your league. Like when I have to deal with cancer patients. I do hearts. Surgical hearts. You break your heart, the surgeon fixes it, and when you are able to take a few sips of water and can breathe on your own, you come to me. For several days. I fix you. When you leave my care, almost always you are healthier than when you came into my hospital. When you are a cancer patient, or even an orthopedic patient, and you come to my floor because you have an arrhythmia, you move me out of my wheelhouse. And then I am not so good. Chemotherapy isn't something I am versed in. And my knowledge of orthopedics is a little limited. And so I call up the RNs who are experts in those fields, because if I am not the RN who can provide the needed care for my patient, then I will find one who can. I do that for my patients. When I'm in my wheelhouse, I am all good. When I am someplace else, I am not so much, which includes decorating my blog. And coming up with pithy titles. I don't have a lot of resources here, and I realize that my blog is read mostly by me. But, if anyone has "blogging" tips, I am more than appreciative.

I ran after work today. I purposely didn't run before work because I wanted to be up and ready so that I could get the small people up a little early. You see, the shuttle made it's last pre-dawn launch today. I wanted Thing One and Thing Two to see it outside, first-hand. We watched the initial launch on TV, and then ran down the stairs to see the flare in the distance. It was spectacular. We saw those brave folk rise and rise. We saw the boosters disengage. We saw the sparkle that was the shuttle continue on. Little people and Big Person were awestruck. Such bravery, there. And Little People will remember this. Very cool.

Ran 4-5 miles tonight. My allergies are killing me...so allergic to oak pollen (as is the rest of Florida) -- makes it a little hard to run. But, even after a long day at work, and even after starting my run after 8pm, I felt ok. And I saw the shuttle go up this morning.

Total: 4.5 miles

18 Miles and Egg Hunts

2010-04-03T12:47:00.000-07:00

Eighteen miles this morning. I can't decide if my long runs are giving me confidence, or killing my confidence. One has yet to go well and feel strong, but I have yet not to complete one. I am so slow, but I work so many long hours and run hard in between -- perhaps I will be a bit faster when my legs aren't always tired. Sometimes my repeats feel strong and effortless. Sometimes they are a slog. I am training alone, so I don't have anyone to push me or encourage me when my head opts out of the long run. I just haven't been able to find a running partner here yet. I will keep trying. Someone will turn up eventually.

So, 18 miles this morning. It took about 3 hours, but it included a few healthy walking breaks and some time to stretch my back and hamstrings. After the run, I scooted home, quickly showered and took the tribe for the first of a few egg hunts. We lasted at the Spring Eggstravaganza at the Y for a couple of hours. I was suddenly hungry, so I ate a hot dog. I remember why I hate hot dogs. Slimy, nasty mystery psuedo-food they are. We then went to egg hunt #2, a fund-raiser for my floor's Relay for Life team, of which I am a member. We lasted there less than an hour. All of a sudden, I was hot, tired, a little wobbly, and I needed to go home. Stat. So home we went, and skipped the last egg hunt.

And later that evening, when the sun was descending, the small people and I took a lovely, explore-y walk. Well, I walked. They biked. Light breezes and little girl giggles make the big girl have sweet dreams.

Total: 18 miles
Total for week: 44 miles.

Good Friday

2010-04-03T12:40:00.000-07:00

Friday, April 2.

4 miles on the treadmill, neither easy nor hard. Just miles, clocked because the schedule dictates 4 miles. I feel lighter lately, although I don't think that I am. Perhaps it is because i am a smidge more fit than I was in January. It is harder to lose weight when you're north of 45 years old. Still, I feel that my out of shape self is not as out of.

Total: 4 miles
Total for week: 26 miles.

Good Friday is just about the hardest day of the year for me. I try and I fail to walk with Jesus. But I do try...I try to think about His journey. I try to think about His crucifixion, and thinking about that scares me. The violence. I don't do violence, for ever and ever, amen. But Christ endured that for me. Nails through feet and palms. For me. I have suckage in my life, but nothing like nails through feet and palms. Nothing like being strung up on timbers in the sun and heat. Nothing like that. Nothing like that at all.

Just counting miles.

2010-04-01T22:16:00.000-07:00

10 on the treadmill today. (Again, the Spring Break - Babysitter issue) It started as a slog, but got better once the one decent treadmill opened up. Got easier still when a good friend showed up to share the run (yeah, I did some walking, but I was chatting and visiting and was totally bored with running inside). I have a few to do tomorrow, and then 18 on Saturday early before the plethora of Easter Egg hunts begins. I can't think about that right now...18 miles is too far, too hard, too everything. I wish that I had someone to run it with me. It is hard to run that far alone. I have been reading a friend's blog, and have been trying to incorporate that Zen kind of thinking with what Mr. Appointment Guy had to say. I don't know if I can live fully in the moment yet. Strike that. I know that I can't. I know that if truly focus, I can live in the moment, but if my focus strays, I wander down my well-trod paths -- the ones where I worry and fret. I am really good at worrying and fretting, but apparently those aren't great life skills. Who knew?

Anyway, I ran my sorta-long 10 miles today. I had no major emotional crises. Life just ebbed and flowed as life is wont to do. 10 miles in the bank. I may not be able to run 26.2, but I can run 10.

Total: 10 miles
Total for week: 22 miles

Spring Break and Appointments

2010-03-31T19:42:00.000-07:00

The small people are out of school this week. Totally forgot that when I made The Appointment. I spent Monday at work trying to suss out someone to babysit for me. My college girls who are the backbone of my childcare life were in class, as was College Boy. Friends were out of town, others were busy with appointments of their own. Co-workers' daughters and sisters were unavailable. There was nothing left to do but cancel The Appointment, which I really and truly did not want to do. You see, I knew if I canceled, I wouldn't reschedule. Classic me. My busy gets in the way of life. I worried this and fretted that and made big sad eyes at everyone, but it wasn't until my cracked open place widened and my dear, dear friend at work peeked in and saw the abyss, that The Appointment became a certainty. She simply was not going to give me an excuse to defer, to avoid. She, a keeper of a mother's greatest sorrow, offered to do something to help. It didn't come to that -- Miss Kati, my could-be-daughter, walked in and said "Sure!" when I asked if she would watch the small people for a couple of hours -- but the blessing was that I needed my friend, and she was there.

So, I went to The Appointment. This might be a good fit for me. It is too soon to tell, but he didn't want to muck about in all the big owies of my childhood, or the trauma of my teens, or my mommy and daddy issues and all the injustices served upon me all my life. Whew. Talked about the fairly recent here and now and the incident that brought me there. I didn't have to cry. Straight talk, straight up. I was worried that I was walking that dark, enticing path towards unraveling. He smiled and said "Oh, no. Not at all". And he gave me tools. Simple things, but, like a hammer, a simple tool is effective. 50 minutes went quickly, but not so quickly that he didn't have time to pray with me. I shared prayer with a counselor. I am an Episcopalian with a Baptist-channeling priest; an Episcopalian with a Pentecostal co-worker who prays her love for me (ain't no one can pray like a Pentecostal); an Episcopalian who now has a therapist who prays with her. There might be something to that. Anyway, since I am not actively crazy, I am allowed to roam free. At least until my next Appointment.

Totally forgot to schedule Spring Break into Marathon Training. And so, because we are on Spring Break time, I did NOT do my sorta long run on Tuesday. Instead, I ran 8 miles, with 6 x 3/4 mile repeats and a cooldown on the treadmill, as I was lacking in -- you guessed it -- babysitters.

Total: 8 miles
Total for week: 12 miles

March 29th. 9pm

2010-03-31T19:24:00.000-07:00

I gave myself a break last week, which was a good and necessary thing. A break is just that -- a little hiatus in the schedule. So, after my second day in a row at work, I found that I had 4 miles staring me straight in the face. After work. At night. Babysitter agreed to stay over. And so I laced up and headed out for just under 40 minutes, which had to be 4 miles. It doesn't even really matter. I ran, and it counts.

Total: 4 miles
Total for week: 4 miles

I had a good day today

2010-03-28T19:46:00.000-07:00

I worked today, and got floated to another floor (nurse-speak for getting sent to work on a floor other than your own). I loved it. I had a great assignment -- total cake. Three patients, four by the end of the day, all of whom required little attention. Basically, I babysat and gave meds. I only gave one narcotic. I made rounds, checked in, did little things, but for a good part of the day, I got to sit and do education, sit and visit, eat a real lunch, and visit some more. It was so much fun spending time with nurses that I know, but don't get to see very often. And we all had a fairly relaxed day (well, except for the guy that was transferred to us in really bad shape, and who spent less than 45 minutes on the floor before another nurse and I wheeled him to the unit).

I like that floor. Every time I go there, I say that. I like that floor. They have the whole teamwork thing down pat. It was nice to be in the midst of that today.

Tomorrow I will be back on my floor, precepting my orientee. She is and will be good. Tomorrow she gets three patients by herself. I will have two, which should make for an easy day for me, right??? It doesn't work that way. What is required of me is to be in charge of all 5 patients, but I have to let go the management of three of them. I am still responsible. The assignment is mine, but I delegate to her. I have trouble with that, but it is what needs to happen. I have set us up for hard assignments for the next month -- she needs to see as many surgical patients as possible. She has the chops. She just needs to re-enter the game.

So, today, I was really glad to have a day where I spent as much time visiting with my patients as I did taking care of them. I was glad to have time to laugh, talk and gossip with other nurses. I was glad to have a long lunch. I had a good day today.

The reason for the run

2010-03-27T09:47:00.000-07:00

Last night, after work, Soldier-Son came over to gather his car and the few belongings remaining here. He was angry, which has become his middle name. He didn't want to purchase the car for the small sum of $1,000. He wanted me to give him the car. I allowed that he was entitled to his feelings and his argument, but this was not a negotiation. One deal, take it or leave it. He sputtered and fumed and ranted, but in the end, he paid for his car and had it taken away. He probably won't ever talk to me again, but he hasn't talked to me in a year, so that won't be a change. I could tell that he still wants me to love him, but he just can't accept that right now. A very hard place to be.

When I could finally turn my brain off to where I knew that I could sleep, I also turned off the alarm. My long run for the week happened on Tuesday. I was tired and emotionally spent. I needed to sleep until I was ready to wake up. I am 47. I have taken a beating this week, and so I forgave myself for opting out of 18 miles and sleeping in.

I awoke at 8, which is late for me. I didn't leave the house to run until after 10. I started from the Y, as this is one of my favorite routes. I planned 8 miles, but I knew after 2, when I just wasn't getting warmed up and my legs were still leaden, and the run was still slow that I would only be doing 6 miles. I needed walk breaks --the wind was killer and it is oak pollen time, so between zyrtec and the sneezing it was tough. But as I was passing the turn to the next lake, which would make it an 8 mile run, on a whim, I took the turn.

Running around Lake Morton, wondering why in Sam Hill I had turned, I came upon a lovely young woman crossing the street. Beautiful red hair and a green sweater. She had been looking at the swans, and was turning to leave. So sad she was. So very, very sad. The misery of the ages was in her bearing and her eyes. I stopped. She looked at me. I turned off Pink Shuffle. I said to her, "You look as sad as I feel". She said nothing, just stood there looking at me. "It is a guy, right?" She nodded. "I am so sorry, honey." And we stood there, looking at each other, and she started to cry. She said, "I just need a hug". And so, right in the middle of the street, two hurting strangers met and held each other.

We must have hugged each other for at least 30 seconds. I told her, "You feel like you can't live through this, but you will". She said, "Thank you". We hugged one more time. I said, "You are a beautiful woman. It will get better, but not today. But it will get better". She nodded. And we parted ways. I hope she is well. I hope that she remembers that today, a stranger cared about and cared for her. I don't think you get many of those encounters in life...random connections that are good, and selfless and loving. I needed that hug as much as she did. Perhaps that is why God sent me around that lake, because that connection surely was the reason for the run.

Total: 8 miles
Total for week: 21.5 miles.

I skipped my run today

2010-03-25T21:18:00.000-07:00

I skipped it my run. Skipped my repeats. Totally blew them off. I had just too much going on to run. 7am, put Miss 8 on the bus. 7:30, leave house with Miss 6 for her little dental appointment with Dr Conscious-sedation-cavity-filling-teeth-extraction man. Smallest of all drank her Demerol-atarax cocktail with little protest (yukky stuff). 1 hour later, she was napping in my lap ("tickle my back, Mama"). By 10 we were post-sealants and into the lidocaine injections, She is my hero. Not a moan, not a groan. She let the dentist know when it was hurting, but she didn't flinch, didn't complain. A couple of fillings and two extractions, and we were home. She did the drunken sailor walk for a while....and drooled her drinks. Most of her Wendy's Frosty went other places than her jammies. She complained of a "fat lip" for a few hours. Tried to talk. HILARIOUS! By 2pm, I convinced her to nap, and nap she did...all that narcotic caught up with all 58lbs of her.

And then, Tim came home. Tim. Soldier-boy. Soldier-boy who hasn't talked to me in almost a year. He came home to look at his car and to decide if he wants to buy it for the cost of a grand, a tow and some repairs. 2005 Tauraus. 78K miles. Cant kill that car. He blames me for not protecting him from John. I can't fault him for that. I didn't do a good job of protecting anyone from John. I couldn't protect myself from John. And when I finally took a stand against John, I didn't protect anyone. I simply up and left and hid. So, he probably has a point. I did the best that I could. Sometimes that isn't enough. I was gracious, tried to be loving. He was distant, but I could see that he wanted me to talk to him. He can only give so much, but it is a start.

So, to recap: in the last week I have been to court to face the Monster, sweated out the acceptance of a contract, received a txt-pic of the guy's truck I was seeing--sent to me in the early morning --in another woman's driveway, dealt with my own psycho-bitch episode, worked some intense shifts while precepting an "old-new" nurse, took my baby girl for fillings and tooth extractions, and finally was able to see my soldier boy.

But, I remembered that the Tooth Fairy needed to come.

Can you blame me for blowing of the repeats today?

This week's running

2010-03-23T15:11:00.000-07:00

3.5 - 4 miles yesterday. I ran harder than I should have, knowing that today I was facing 11 miles. Those 11 turned into 10.

10 miles today. I made them. I walked some. Runners need to eat. Runners need to think of food as fuel, and we need to feed the machine. But I couldn't stomach anything yesterday, or even today, and I didn't eat much over the weekend, so my run wasn't up to par. I am not going to argue if there is some weight loss, but really, I know better than this. I keep saying that. I just don't follow through. Maybe some of my hard-core is gone. Maybe the laser-focus that I need is just spread throughout too many places. I don't know.

I made my miles. At least my commitment is that strong. At least my focus is that focused. I need something to center my days. I have running. No matter what, I will run.

Total miles: 3.5 miles
Total miles: 10 miles
Total for week: 13.5 miles

I think I need a safe place to talk

2010-03-23T13:42:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was simply horrendous. Something in me just snapped from all the stresses that I have been dealing with lately. And from that snapped open place came such maliciousness, such jealousy, such just pure ugliness that I am wondering who the hell I really am. I did something horrible to hurt someone with the absolute intent of hurting them. Me. I did that. Me. I didn't think that I had a mean bone in my body, but apparently I do. It is humiliating. Of course, I apologized and offered to make things right, but the damage was done. I, Sarah, simply don't do that kind of thing. I remember the one and only time I said something ugly to a stranger. I was a teenager. I remember the look on her face when I said it. And it still bothers me, 30 years later. When the Ex hurt me, I ran away and hid. When the relationship that I thought was truly right for me ended, I licked my wounds and tried to be nice. I don't say mean things to people. I am unfailingly nice to grocery store clerks, gas station people, and sanitation workers. I talk to my neighbors. I call people "Dear" and "Darlin' ". I can't explain what happened to me yesterday. Everyone at work from doctors to housekeepers (or almost everyone, because you just never know) likes me. And I like them. I am sweet and kind to my co-workers. I am an ultimate team-player. I help when I don't have time to help.

But yesterday, I was the mean-assed bitch from hell who intentionally did something really terrible to hurt someone who had hurt me. I retaliated. All of that goes against who I thought I was. Perhaps I am not that person after all. Perhaps I still am, because the guilt I feel is beyond any guilty feeling I have ever known. I feel shame. I feel petty, and I feel small. And when I called to apologize, I got forgiven, not abused. It made my soul just shrivel. I deserved the worst, but I didn't receive it.

So, I made an appointment to talk to someone. Because I can see that for the last 4 years, I have been driving hell-bent for forever, trying to make it out of the abyss and haven't dealt with all the stuff that I have had to absorb. I slap tar over the wounds and just keep moving forward. I think that is why I cracked. I think the tar finally just didn't hold. But, I think I need to share the stuff that I can't even share here with someone. Which is why I have an appointment. Me, opening up to someone. Don't put your winter coats away just yet. Hell may be freezing over soon.

Children laughing.

2010-03-21T16:45:00.000-07:00

Really, is there any better balm to a sore soul than the sound of children laughing? Sometimes, I need to remember the small, sweet, simple things. Laughter over nothing at all. Happy small people and happy small people noises. Sometimes, God humbles me.

Rainy Sunday

2010-03-21T10:13:00.000-07:00

It is Sunday. It is raining. And I am not out running. Quelle surprise! I made it through yesterday's run in the cool, sunny, breezy day that makes me love Florida. So, today I don't have to run. Today I can coddle my bruised heart and ego, cuddle in my soft, soft flannel sheets and fluffy comforter and simply read while it rains and rumbles outside. Got Lyle Lovett on my playlist. My pants that were too tight a couple of weeks ago fit much better this morning. It is going to take a while to readjust to the loneliness. I will have to work more, read more, and run more. I know these ropes. One day I just won't be so lonely anymore. My heart will stop aching. But that won't happen today. What WILL happen today is that I will change out of my church clothes, get my book, and tuck myself in. The small people will play in and out of my room. We will rest and listen to the world being watered.

Emotional miles.

2010-03-20T18:19:00.000-07:00

It never, ever bodes well for a long run, when, the evening before said long run, you see the guy you have been keeping company with for a couple of months leaving an apt complex where a nurse who is also a "good friend" lives. Combine that with no answers to txts for hours prior to this, no calls back from voicemail. All of which are really abnormal. And then his first txt back is "sorry, I was visiting , meeting her new cat (please, can we get a better euphemism???), and I had the sound turned off on phone." Are you kidding me??? That phone is your crackberry...it is on 24-7.

So, even though I am JUST keeping company with him (meaning tons of talking and txting and all that other stuff -- yeah, that, too --) I had a hard night. And to be brutally honest, even though I knew I was going to run the longest that I have run in eons, I had a liquid supper of the chardonnay kind. Lots of calls to friends for support. I love my friends. But nutrition-wise? Not a good idea. When you are running 16 miles in the morning, you have to prepare. Seriously, you have to feed the machine that is going to propel you forward. I know this. Really, I do. I know lots of things. I just have to remember to know them. Sometimes knowing and remembering gets lost in all the sad stuff. It just does.

So, 16+ today. I did it. I made it. I was PAINFULLY aware of my nutritional deficits. I was nauseated from 12-15....all because I was just too empty. I had to walk now and again because there just was no fuel in the tank at all. I was burning glycogen, not good carbs. I know better than that. I do. And it ticked me off that I know better and didn't take care of that because I was all emotional about a guy. Again. Upset, worried, confused about a guy. It has to stop. Like Johnny Depp said in Alice in Wonderland, I have "lost much of my muchness". I intend to find that "muchness". And not only will I find it, I will live it. And I will pass it along to my small people, so that they have a full compliment of muchness. People of the female sort need a lot of muchness.

I ran just under 17 miles today. I have 10 weeks to Bayshore. I will, without a doubt, make the distance. Even if I have to crawl. I have that much "muchness" in me.

Total: 16.5+ miles
Total for week: 37 miles or so

Repeat Day

2010-03-20T11:06:00.000-07:00

Nothing was really outstanding about this workout, but it was a nice little run anyway. I did 2 miles warm up, 4 x 3/4 mile repeats, and a final repeat as a cool down. 6 miles. Each repeat was a little faster than the previous one. I didn't get tired until the last mile, and I really didn't feel that I was working all that hard. I purposely didn't go faster or longer, because I had 16 to do the next day, and the prospect of running on fatigued legs wasn't working for me. So, I did the reps anywhere from 7.5-8.2 on the mill. Next week I am going to try for a little more intensity, esp since I have committed myself to a 5 mile trail race (wicked trail, too) early next month. Wow. I am thinking about racing again. Maybe there is hope that the old Sarah, the one with goals and dreams and aspirations, might actually still exist.

Total: 6 miles
Total for week: 20.5 miles

Oops. I was a bad Mama today.

2010-03-19T16:20:00.001-07:00

Or maybe not. We played hooky. I had a HORRIFIC day yesterday -- I came in to work on my day off for 6 hours (which turned into 7 hours) to cover for someone. And then I went to court to yet again confront my ex, this time about a contract to sell the house that he wouldn't sign. 45 minutes turned into 3 hours. I didn't get home until almost 8pm. My son, who came home from college to babysit, kept the small people safe until I got back. We ordered pizza, delivery. We almost never do that -- one of those single mom things. Anyway, I decided that we needed to have a good end to the week. So we played hooky. Kept the girls home from school, we all slept late, I went for a run when College Boy arrived. Nice little run, too. And then, the small people and I went for pedicures. Yep...I took 6 and 8 for their first pedicures. They loved it! How much fun it is to completely pamper your little bundles of estrogen. Kids pick great colors...blue and purple. The nail techs gave everyone a design on our big toenails. Fabulous! I did, however, get chided by the nail tech about the state of my hands, which have been sorely neglected for the past several years. I may have to bite the bullet and get some serial manicures until things shape up. What a terrible thing to be forced to do. Sometimes all it takes is a little bit of fluffing, puffing, and polish to make things better.

Facing the Monster

2010-03-19T10:03:00.000-07:00

WARNING. RAMBLING POST AHEAD

March 19, 2010

I spent yesterday in court. I don't think that I can even count anymore how many days I have spent in court. And I am a nurse, not a lawyer. For a while, it seemed like I was there on a monthly basis. I have been separated
since 2006. I have been divorced since July 2008. And still I have to go to court. And still I have to face the monster.

When I am in court, I don't face him alone. I have my lawyer, the one to whom I have paid from a nurse's salary a year's gross pay. I have the judge, who hates the monster, but who lets him ramble. And I have three bailiffs. One for the judge, one for me, and one to guard the monster. I never leave the court room alone. And by now, when there is a hearing, a bailiff is present when I walk off of the elevator. Everyone in the room is concerned for me.

I have a domestic violence injunction in place. It is, I believe, permanent. That part is unusual, but it is necessary. However, I am not stupid enough to believe that an injunction, a piece of paper, will keep me safe. I am contemplating buying a gun. Those who really know me would be utterly shocked by that, but, it is what it is. I am almost four years separated. Two years divorced. He has a new wife, a new baby and one one the way. But the vitriol still simmers. As one of my people, RuFuS, says, my ex is winding twine rapidly around his big ball of crazy. It frightens me. It is so disturbing to watch someone come completely unmoored. He is psychologically in the equivalent of 3rd degree heart block. Things are beating, but there ain't no communication there between reality and his mind. I live with this all the time. When he finally becomes totally untethered, who will be the first victim? Hopefully, it will be me, because I will be prepared. But I expect that the first victims will be my small people, who have already had to cope with things that small people should never know about. It destroys me, knowing this. But I have to be ready. I have to anticipate what might happen. I am a single mother. No one gets my back. I have to be able to face the monster. And win.

Tears

2010-03-16T17:20:00.001-07:00

I am crying a lot lately. I don't really know why. I have a lot going on, and I have some big heartaches that are pricking me. So, I cry. I detest crying. I am the one who gets up, brushes off and walks on. It makes me nuts when I cry. And it makes me more nuts when I cry and don't have anyone to help me through it. When I was on that ledge, I learned that crying does not ever help. Feeling sorry for yourself does not help you move forward. I learned to take stock, figure out the best path and move forward. Tears get you nothing. Action gets you somewhere, to a place beyond the abyss.

I haven't recovered from my latest heart-bashing, although I really should be beyond that. I miss the hearth and home, the domestic stuff. I miss the relationship part of that relationship. I have to deal with the ex in the next few days. He scares me. And so I am crying. And I am crying alone. I hate crying.

Tuesday ten.

2010-03-16T16:52:00.000-07:00

It is Tuesday. Time for my sorta-long run. 10 miles today. 10 not fast, not slow, thank goodness Pink Shuffle acted well, lets just run for a bit miles. I realized nearing the end of the run that 10 miles isnt mileage that I worry about anymore. 10? I just do it. Git 'er done. 1o miles is just that. 10. Slow, steady, but not hard. This gives me hope.

I have an appointment with Greg, the Massage Therapist Guru. My appointment isn't for a couple of weeks, but Greg likes me -- and he is already calling around to fit me in sooner. It amazes me how many people really like me. Huh. Who knew??

Miles: 10 miles
Miles for week: 14.5ish miles

Monday morning sweet early miles

2010-03-15T20:31:00.000-07:00

I really have got to figure out how to do this more often. I mean run in the EAM. I have forgotten how much I love running in the tranquil, early hours. This is one of the hard parts of single parenthood. I can only run early when small people are with their dad. Actually, I could get up and run every morning, but it would mean leaving an 8 and 6 year old alone in a house before daybreak. I just can't do that, although I know that other people can. I mean, the kids are asleep. But. I just can't do it. I don't have a problem leaving them in the daylight hours, when I can shoo them to their little friends' homes for a bit....but I can't leave them sleeping home alone. I need to look long and hard at how I can run early more often. There just has to be an answer.

Small people were at their dad's house. I woke up a little before insanely early to run. It took me a bit to get going, which is odd for me because I usually wake up, stretch, blink for a minute or two, and then fire on all cylinders -- but I had a slight zyrtec hangover. I had this because I am in the middle of yet another mistake. Maybe not in the middle. Maybe still at the beginning. Or maybe entering the end. But no matter how you slice it, probably still a mistake. Really. This is me. How could it be otherwise? Anyway, got to the Y, noticed that the best treadmills were empty, eschewed the empties and put shoes to asphalt.

The thing about running that early is that you can sneak in a few miles before your body realizes what it is doing. 4 miles really does feel like 2 miles, because the brain doesn't comprehend the first miles. So, I ran just shy of 5 miles. Pre-run, I was crying. Post-run, I was still teary. But mid-run, I was ok. I think that I need to run a little bit more and think a little bit less. I really, really hate it when I cry. I simply have got to figure out how to do more early morning, sunrise-watching running. Anyone want to join me???

Total: 4.5 miles