Breastfeeding the Undead

We’ve made it to Mars. Did they find Marvin? Men? M&Ms? It matters not what they find, it’s just really cool that we’re there at all. Though it does concern me with our spending priorities….That right there is a subject for another blog that isn’t this one. Maybe my imaginary political blog where I get to rail about everything and never worry about losing readership or having people dump bags of tea on my doorstep. I would not, however, be opposed to hermetically sealed tea boxes being thrown on my doorstep, though. I quite like trying new varieties, and would love it if it just started raining tea boxes.

Hey, tea is healthy, why not?

This past weekend, I was overwhelmed with work and the visiting lady demon. I felt myself being pulled into that “place”. I decided to go for a run. I had a mid-to-long run on my training schedule, and felt like there was no time like the present to get it done.

Mile 1: I felt great, I ran it hard and fast to clear my brain. I did the mile in 7:31. I felt every pound of foot to asphalt. It felt right. It felt like coming home. It felt like every step lifted me a little higher; just like your love.

Mile 2: I cooled my pace. I ran this one in 8:40, over a min/mi slower than the previous mile. I concentrated on my breathing and letting my mind wander to focus on my goals. It was a good mile.

Mile 3: Time to start speeding up a bit, 8:20. I was still deeply focused on my goals, and my breathing. Recalling lines, considering motivations, being grateful, considering how to get beet juice out of my shirt, so it no longer looks like I am a breastfeeding vampire.

Mile 4: 8:11 race pace. The first half of the mile felt perfect. I had strong, long strides, and a relaxed breath, the second half, I had something niggling at me. I think it’s probably my running tights.

Mile 5: 8:13 something “may” be happening with my knee, but I am actively ignoring it. I have done this a million times, and will do it a million more. I am totally ok. Really. I swear.

Mile 6.3 it happens. My knee? buckles. It takes everything in me not to fall, cradle the knee, and cry. It’s my MCL again, I knew this feeling. The sour grate behind my kneecap. The Nancy Kerrigan wail coming from my core, not escaping my lips. The feeling of utter defeat.

Then there was last night. I was lying in bed, relaxing after a hard day, and I heard a crash. I sprung up with lightning quick speed (or “mommy in a fit of fear and panic speed”)  and ran to where I heard the crash…it was just a shower mirror trying to commit upon itself seven years of bad luck by falling in the tub. It sounded like a sub-machine gun was firing through my window. After the adrenaline rush subsided, I felt it. I felt the “belt worn too tight” feeling in my knee. I cried. Again. This time, I let it pass my lips, I let it be heard, if only to my own ears.

It was decision time. Do I run the next mary I had planned? Or do I go for option B; my agent’s preferred option of getting my plastic surgery to remove my excess skin earlier than originally planned, skipping the mary, and getting serious PT for my knee. I had thought for a while that one or the other may preclude me from running my beloved mary, but I never thought that it would be both.

It looks like vanity and walking are going to win this time. I am doing my best not to feel defeated, but I do. It’s a good thing I grew up near Cleveland, where defeat is as customary as pierogies and Great Lakes beer. Maybe I should just play for the Indians instead, because I am batting a thousand.

So that is where I am. Stuck on the elliptical for the foreseeable future, preparing for a life altering tummy and thigh tuck, sulking. I promise I won’t piss and moan for too long, I have bigger fish to fry, like shopping for clothes that will hide my post-op compression gear, and going to argue with my physical therapist. Oh, and figuring out why oh why does my son feel it necessary to sing at 6:30 am, and why he does it with his hand down his pants. Maybe I don’t want to figure this out. Maybe I’ll just have more coffee and make lunch.

Maybe I’ll make healthy slaw. Deliciously healthy slaw.

Most cole slaws have mayo or sour cream, sugar, and a ton of salt. ALL OF IT IS UNNECESSARY. This cole slaw is freaking fabulous with NONE of that nonsense.

Healthy and Absurdly delicious cucumber and red cabbage slaw.