Monday, August 24, 2015

Margaritas Happen



Ugh I feel like shit this morning. Both mentally and physically and it’s basically because I have to be honest I have been eating pretty shitty in the grand scheme of things.  You know how there is that point when you just go, fuck it.  And you sort of just dive head first into crap.  I have been working so hard, so hard, so hard… and then it was like a little snap the past couple days.  Even Thursday and Friday night I was pretty much not doing my best in terms of caring.  And then the weekend happened and boy oh boy, that wasn’t all that pretty.  The food really overshadowed some of the other cool parts of the weekend which is really too bad in the grand scheme of things.  I guess I shall try and decipher my feelings on all of it.

Friday night I went and got the massage.  It was actually pretty good.  It was free so you know you can’t beat that.  And he is such a nice guy.  Everything was pretty good until he got to my calves.  My calves were seriously so freaking tight I couldn’t tell if him touching them was pleasurable or just pure hell.  I realized instantly how knotted and tight they were. I didn’t even know honestly.  How dumb is that?  I guess I just don’t think about it.  But holy hell my calves were like one giant crazy knot.  He spent an extra amount of time on them and was like, yup, you’re a runner.  He pressed and did all these crazy things and honestly I do think it felt good and all.  He is literally in his last week of massage school so all the technical stuff is very fresh for him. 

When I got up from the massage I literally almost fell over.  I instantly felt light headed and like well, all this negative shit had been released from my body. It was CRAZY.  I know I get his feeling when I get massages but this one seemed a little more intense. I drank water.  I was afraid I’d pass out.  But my calves felt better.  I know he could probably spend hours on them alone and not touch the crazy knotted core of them.  But truthfully, I did feel better. I went home and seriously mushed into the couch.
 

I had to wake up early for the run on Saturday.  We tried to get everything set out.  I ate the spaghetti with abandonment.  No measure. No worry. I was running.  Sometimes it’s easy to get caught up in the idea that I am running a long distance so it’s okay to eat. Yes, it is okay to eat, but I am not burning like unlimited calories here and at some point it’s not okay to eat everything and anything.  So alas, I ate and we went to bed.  4:30 AM comes and up we go.  In all honesty I was more awake than I thought I’d be.  I was more awake then I am on most every Tuesday morning when I get up early.  Don’t really know why.  Maybe more excitement perhaps.  I was actually excited to run 16 miles.  I am going to tell you why and then I’m going to tell you what actually happened and why I think it contributed to my tailspin of a weekend.

I was secretly expecting 16 miles to not be a big deal.  I run 13 all the time and always feel like I have more in me when I’m done.  I ran two freaking half marathons the weekend before so I was getting overly confident and cocky and that is ALWAYS a bad idea.  I was expecting and or hoping that running 16 miles wouldn’t be that awful and therefore I’d come away feeling amazing and confident and feeling like running a marathon was totally going to be possible.  None of these things happened.  I left that running feeling VERY defeated and scared and I think this idea tainted my weekend.  BUT let me talk about the run because there were factors, as there always are.

Like I said, I felt surprisingly well for being that early.  This being a small group training run, there were actually about 50 of us which wasn’t bad honestly. Nothing official, although this was organized by a race company and therefore the race director was there.  He said that the good news was it was registered as an official half in the books so it could/would count as a half time if you wanted it.  I guess some people are big on that.  They started time when we took off and then as we came across the “finish” they recorded are time. So that was actually nice.  The run was free and they did have 2 aid stations set up for us and at the finish goodies and snacks.  That was lovely.

When we got to the finish line we all took a shuttle to the start. This was a point to point race.  We waited at the finish for the other people to arrive. It was cold. Bone chilling cold. Was not expecting that.  I was in a tank top and shivering.  And I had to pee.  There was a porta potty at the park.  But alas, it was closed.  Couldn’t use that.  The race director said no worries there’s a restroom at the start line, the state park ones.  Cool.  We boarded the bus and eventually took off.  Got to the “start” line and the restrooms were closed.  I REALLY had to pee at this point. Son of a bitch.  The guys just went out in the woods.  Lucky them.  In hindsight I should have just done it right then and there honestly.  I don’t know what I was thinking.  Wait, I was thinking, somewhere along the way on this very public trail there would be a restroom/porta-potty set up and things would just work out.  (There were multiple along the way, they were all closed. It did NOT work itself out!)

Anyway.  We took off and I started booking it.  I can tell I am getting much faster. I can tell I had rest. I could tell I wanted to run.  I was FLYING.  I literally felt like I was flying.  It was amazing and I felt great.  Except from the very first second my stomach started to build up the pressure from the knowledge I had to pee.  I ran on.  I was running such an awesome pace and I was like, fuck though, I have to pee.  Pee. Pee. Pee.  Yup over and over in my mind repeating the words. I have to pee.  Oh shit I have to pee.  And I ran on.  Running fast and amusing my brain with little pee chants.  I was having some KILLER times.  And I looked down at my watch and around mile 3 I was at an 8:30 pace.  What the fuck, I never run that fast.  I knew I had my fastest mile already a 7:49.  Yeah, there might have been a couple downhills in that, but still a 7:49 mile.  And I knew I was going to have my fastest 5k time because I was at such a great pace.  And yet, I had to pee.

The run itself was gorgeous.  Beautiful area.  And mile 4 ticked by and I was still at an awesome pace. Flying.  And then mile 5 came and the pressure was starting to build up in my stomach.  What happens when you hold in pee or anything really for too long is your stomach starts to revolt and build pressure.  Like pain.  Uncomfortable pain.  I knew I was eventually going to have to pee.  I knew it.  But selfishly I was running so good and I knew I was going to be close to a 10k PR time too so I ran on. The thing was, it was a lovely well-traveled woodsy path. Paved.  But still woodsy.  My eyes kept darting to places to pee.  But there were always people about.  Pee. Pee. Pee.  The chant repeated. The pressure hurt.  I don’t think our bodies were intended to hold in pee for long periods of time, especially in the middle of vigorous physical activity.

Part of my brain logically knew that I’d run better if I’d just allowed myself to pee, but I couldn’t help it I wanted a 10K PR.  In fact I was running so good I had moments of visions of a sub 2 hour half time.  I was really hoping for that. But I knew the pee pressure was getting bad.  At about mile 6.5 there were restrooms.  I ran towards them. Locked. Son of a Bitch.  I kept running.  At mile 7 it became a lot.  And then finally at about mile 8 I had a mental crack.  I hit a wall.  I hit a wall where it just hurt. And now it wasn’t just pee.  It was all the pressure and holding it in for over an hour while running and now I had to poop as well.  Sorry, but that is what happens when you run.  A sad little side effect that isn’t discussed much.  I was having digestive issues for sure.  And I was farting.  And I was like crap.  This HURTS.  I hurt.  And from pretty much the start of mile 8 on, I kept browsing the sidelines for any place to pull off. I couldn’t handle it anymore.

A little shy of 9 miles I just found myself darting off into the woods to pee.  I looked around and just went for it.  I just peed. I couldn’t get myself to do the other thing because well, I do have some standards.  I peed. I felt better.  But it didn’t alleviate the pressure entirely unfortunately.  I had caused too much damage by holding it in that long. And now all the pressure was still there.  And I knew that I could kiss my sub 2 hour half time good bye.  My body was in pain.  I had gone out way to fast.  I was running way beyond my typical speed while trying to hold in pee and it was now catching up with me.  When I got to like mile 10 I almost wanted to cry. I wanted it to be done.  I hurt.  My stomach.  Not my joints or anything. 

Miles 10-12 were hell.  I really wanted to just stop and walk.  The pressure would build and I would think I was going to poop my pants and then I’d stop for a second and let it pass and maybe fart and let it go and start running again.  This occurred multiple times.  My pace was awful.  There were more restrooms at mile 11 and I darted for them.  Locked.  Had I just been able to poop at this point I probably would have felt better too.  But nope.  I finally hit about 12 miles on my GPS and I was so thankful. But so tired.  I was going so slow but I knew I was close to the training run finish line.  So I made the turns and came across the line and somehow ultimately still managed my fastest half time to date.  I’m not entirely sure I feel happy or proud of it because of how horrible I basically felt from mile 8 on.  And those last miles were just awful.  So yes, I had my fastest half time despite all of that because the first 7 miles were pretty damned good.  Aside from pee pressure. 

I crossed. I stopped.  I got water. I sat down for a moment and met Chris. I felt like SHIT.  It was so fucking hard.  And mentally I was done.  However, I had promised myself I was running 16 miles. I was excited to see how I’d hold up on a 16 mile run.  And if it wasn’t for verbally committing online to running 16 miles I think I would have just stopped at that 13.1.  But I told Chris that we HAD to run 3 more.  That I made a promise and it was going to happen.  But I still had to use the bathroom. BADLY. And the porta potty at the park was still closed. So after we sat for a couple minutes I got myself back up and we started jogging.  And almost instantly the pressure returned as did the need to use the bathroom. Chris was quick to make a plan to get us to the nearest establishment with a restroom.  Less than ½ a mile away was a grocery store that we ran towards.  And FINALLY I got to use the bathroom properly. It was a lovely relief.  And I felt much better after using it.

But at this point my body had been traumatized for the last 2 hours and running more miles seemed awful. But I made us.  And it was slow and I kind of wanted to cry.  And it was so God damned hard to run another 3 miles that I was getting so fucking scared about running another 10 on top of that. Meaning a full 26.2 mile distance.  I just wanted to finish out those 3 miles and be done.  And at this point parts of my legs did start to ache. GREAT I thought.  And when we finally finished my overall pace was actually really fabulous and I was proud of the fact that we did it.  Those last 3 miles were ran at about a 10:50-11:00 minute mile pace and honestly my marathon training plan has me running my whole marathon at an 11:03 pace as the goal.  So this was okay.  But I promise you, I did NOT have another 10 miles in me.  Those last 3 were so fucking awful it wasn’t funny.  And that is why I felt defeated despite breaking every single record my watch tracks.




Yes, I set all those fabulous records and all, and I ran 16 miles in 2 hours 34 minutes 18 seconds and that is GREAT, but it was so much harder than I thought it was going to be.  In hindsight since I ended up having to just pee in the bushes anyway I wish I would have just done it at the start. I truly think holding in the pee for so long created the pressure that was unbearable and therefore helped to create the poo issue later.  But I guess these are lessons we learn.  This is why we train.  I’d much rather any of this happened to me this weekend than on the actual race day.  Don’t ignore pee my friends. That’s my take away.

I could not believe how hard it was.  But I am also going to go with the idea that it was hard from mile 8 on for me honestly and most of the time half’s aren’t hard for me at mile 8. And therefore it was clearly just a rough day so perhaps running 16 miles was extra tough on that day too. There have been plenty of times that running 13 wasn’t as awful as that felt.  That after running 13 I was sure I could run more, because I felt great.  I didn’t feel good for quite a while on this run so therefore it’s probably not the best indicator. But it still left me feeling mentally crappy.

I thought I was so much more prepared for this than I really was.  I thought I’d go out there and run 16 no problem, that I’d feel great and think I could keep going.  HA HA.  I got cocky and it kicked my ass.  Running 16 miles is NOT easy.  But alas, I get to run 18.5 this weekend so  I guess I get another shot at it.  And I pray to god it goes better than this weekend because this is really my last long run before Maui and I’d like to leave it off on a confident note.  Anyhow.  I did it.  And I did it with a pretty decent time all things considered. 

Afterwards, both Chris and I were exhausted and starving and cranky. I ate a really large 12 inch foot long sandwich and then showered and got ready for my second adventure of the night. Chris took a nap. I can’t nap after these things if I have other stuff to do.  So I got showered up and cleaned up and waited for Chirs.


We were heading out to Amanda’s bodybuilding show.  Back in the car and back on the road again.  I really wasn’t excited to go to the show.  I wasn’t excited about paying $50 to watch people get up and pose on stage.  But I was doing it for Amanda.  Pretty much every expectation I ever had about a bodybuilding show was confirmed. It was pretty much awful.  And this was a short, small event.  But at least I went to one and therefore don’t have to do another one for a long time.  It was so fake.  Those bodies are almost fake because the lengths they have to go to the week before to get their body to look like that is ridiculous.  For the 48 hours before the show they get to drink 16 ounces of water. That’s it. That’s all the liquid they get.  Deplete your body so it pops.  It’s just insane.  Amanda looked great. She’s beautiful.  I love her to death and she was so excited we were there so that was worth it.

The show reaffirmed that I will NEVER EVER consider doing a show.  It’s expensive as hell and it’s a glorified beauty pageant.  Yes there is other criteria than your beauty that they are judging you on, but come on, it’s still getting judged based on your body.  And I don’t see any appeal in that.  Amanda spent like $275 on her show swimsuit.  You have to pay for hair and makeup and shoes and spray tan.  You have to pay for a drug test (this was a natural show at least so no steroids)  She had to pay a general $200 flat fee to enter. And THEN $75 for each category she wanted to compete in.  She only did 1 category. She should have done more.  There were 8 girls in her category, she ended up getting 4th place.  It was fine, but she was disappointed I think. I  think she looked better than at least 1 of the girls who beat her.  But what the hell do I know? 

Afterwards, after like 2 ½ hours of watching this horrific show, we finally all went out to eat for pizza.  There were 11 of us. Amanda’s family and a couple other friends. At this point both Chris and I were STARVING.  We ordered a medium pizza and I seriously ate half the fucking thing.  And then the guilt set in.  I ate half a pizza. Guilt. Guilt.  And then I still wanted more food. How insane is that?  I had a great time hanging out with everyone honestly.  So that was good.  We both enjoyed the company and the night out.  That was worth it. We both really did have a good time.  And then I went home and ate 2 pop tarts.  And then went to bed.

I really wanted to wake up on Sunday and do something, but I was just tired.  So I spent a long time in bed. Just lying there which felt nice to get to do on occasion.


I just snuggled the doggies and stayed in bed far too long.  Finally I got up and made coffee and just didn’t feel like doing anything.  I ate. Yup, ate some more which totally thru me into a tailspin from the get go on the day.  Fuck.  And then I got dressed and we decided to take the dogs to the dog park to play because well they deserved it.


Love those little girls and there pretty happy faces.  When we got home I had every intention of doing something active. Instead I was tired and I ATE.  And this is where it all just went to shit. I ate everything and anything.  So much crap.  Sigh.  It happened. And then we realized that we needed to go get chicken. It was like 7 PM and I had spent the day sitting on the couch.  At some point I officially declared it a rest day.


And then we get to the grocery store and got our chicken for meal prep.  And then we took the dogs for a walk in the evening and coming back all of a sudden out of nowhere I got the craving for a margarita. I haven’t had a margarita in forever or even thought about it really and suddenly it’s all I wanted.  Chris was like you want to?  And at that point I was like fuck it, yeah.

So we got in the car and went to our Mexican food place we haven’t been to in forever. It was after 8 PM so it was happy hour and I got a margarita and we ordered a quesadilla appetizer and it was all like heaven to me.  I drank a 2nd margarita. Yup.  It was exactly what I wanted. And was craving and didn’t even realize it.  And I ate bad food and drank bad food and it happened.

2 margaritas was enough to get me feeling kind of tipsy.  I was so freaking tired at this point. SOOOO tired. We came home and pretty much went to bed. I slept pretty decent last night thankfully.  But now that leads me to this morning.  And all the guilt. Sigh.


And I know I should not feel any guilt and I’m trying not to. It’s not really guilt, it’s really a feeling of crap. Sluggish and drained and it’s because of poor food choices.  I feel stuffed and bloated and less than my normal self.  But maybe I just needed to get this I don’t care weekend out of my system so that I can focus on the next 4 weeks full force and remember why I am doing any of this to begin with.  I deserved a fuck it weekend. I did.  I understand that.  I didn’t like how it made my fee physically so it’s time to suck it up and get myself back on track.  This is in fact life and what happens and that is okay.  This is how you maintain and live a real life. Margaritas happen.  And they are delicious and they can happen.

What defines me is how I pull myself back together today and get my body back to a happy healthy place.  That WILL occur today. It already is in the process of occurring.  I am detoxing as we speak. I need a solid detox. I think I put to high of expectations on myself about my run and when it didn’t entirely happen the way I wanted it to, I felt disappointed and like a failure.  It’s so crazy because I kept saying to Chris in the car ride home that despite setting every single record for myself, I don’t feel good about that run at all.  I know, I am insane. I get that.  But lessons were in fact learned this weekend and that is the most important part of this whole thing.  Forgiveness might be the best lesson to take away.  That and seriously ALWAYS find a way to pee before a run.


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