Ziiiiiiiiiiiing

Sleeping has become erratic for me. I might not fall asleep. Or two am might find me staring at my email with lists churning through my head, sleep not returning until five or so.

Yet I haven't been drinking caffiene for months. The combination leads to some anemic runs and apathetic days.

Thursday morning, my eyes were burning - not just from the pollen blowing around. The lists I occupied myself with Wednesday night included meetings, meetings and more meetings, as well as wine club.

"Ok. It's time. I'll only take half."

Into my mouth oozed half a packet of orange goo. With caffiene.

Not so much: half a cup of coffe, maybe?

My mouth went wide and froze into a gappy grin. I hadn't had the rictus face since.....well....it's been a while.

I couldn't stop! And I was zinging around my house. Flit. Flit. From kitchen to bathroom to bedroom to bathroom to kitchen to bathroom.

Wow. The effect was startling. When I started running, I felt airy and slightly numb.

Interesting, as I had a backpack strapped onto my back.

An additional minor jolt or two, thanks to Superman's shot blocks, got me over the Brooklyn Bridge and through the humid stickiness of the West Side Highway.

By about 23rd street, though, fatigue broke through the caffiene wall. Sweating and heavy-legged, Superman and I slogged through the last blocks on the West Side Highway, crossing over at 59th street.

I think the caffiene actually helped my asthma. Unlike my other recent runs, I didn't get an asthma attack until almost the end of the run. The hill on 59th did me in.

Boy, did I feel like a weenie when I made Superman walk a half block to 60th!

Over to Columbus Circle, where I left Superman to a lower loop and his own devices, I then ran back to 9th.

Whew. I was crystallized by the time I got to my office! Crunchy and Salty.

Ow!

You know, you have to remember your own limits.

And keep current on what those limits are!

Thus, why people shouldn't claim they can 'run a 19-minute 5k' if that PR was gotten, say, 5 years ago.

Or say that they run all the time if they used to but haven't done so for several months.

I think I might have fallen prey to that last conceit.

I used to run all the time.

But 3 plus months of running 22-40 miles a week makes it so that I no longer qualify.

But I still haven't put paid to that conceit.

So I think it will be fine to run to work (again) with a heavy backpack.

Ok. It was fine.

But I meant 'fine' in the sense that I would have a great run the whole time.

And that I wouldn't get ouchy 8 miles in.

Because, like the woman who has changed sizes but doesn't quite accept it, always pulling out the size six and wondering why it doesn't fit, I've changed running patterns.

Significantly.

So a 10.3 or so mile run has become one of the longest runs that I do.

Instead of a nice, medium-length, middle-of-the-week jaunt.

If it were still a jaunt, my backpack wouldn't be too bad.

But, in fact, my legs got really tired today on that run.

They were fine and then, boom, around mile 8, they revolted a bit.

I kept running, anyway: I haven't changed that much, yet.

But I definitely got slower.

At least I'm still running, though!

Even if I can no longer claim that 'I run all the time'.

By the way, where are those larger clothes? I'll take (almost) all donations!

Hopefully, I'll just need lighter clothes. I'm confident that this weather is turning for the better, but soon!

An Interesting Side Effect

This week, I just haven't been feeling 100%. Either because of the cold, or other issues, or general weenie-ness.

On Tuesday, I actually cancelled a run with the Speedy Blonde.

"What! You are cancelling! You never cancel just because!!!!!!"

I was cold. My office wasn't heated. But that's not much of an excuse: the run might have made me warmer.

Yesterday, didn't feel great and had a lot of work come up.

Instead of running, I ate a gooey dessert and watched a movie.

Not sure that the two things have the same long-term outcome.

So I laced on the shoes this morning: I was going to get this run in before I was able to psych myself out of it!

And I strapped on my backpack. Might as well get to school while doing this!

Oi. It was heavy. Really heavy. I had to bring two computers.

Adding to this was my decision to bring a full water bottle, to save money when I got there.

Chug. Chug. Chug.

Heavy Breathing.

I felt some serious tightness in my chest over the bridge. Combatted this by allowing my ire at all the clueless pedestrians crowding all the way across the Brooklyn Bridge to rise up inside me.

I even threw in a few "You idiots!" under my breath, for good measure.

Well, it got me over the bridge!

And, after all, posing three abreast in the middle of a bike lane, with bikes whizzing by, as other large groups of people crowd the walking lane is NOT the most intelligent thing to do in the world - unless your intention is to get hit by a bike.

Onto the West Side highway I chugged.

There was a lot of phlegm.

What?! I told you that I wasn't feeling 100%!

It was yellow. This was reassuring.

"If the phlegm is clear or yellow, the patient will live. If it is black, the patient will die."

So I would remain alive, allegedly.

On I chugged.

My rear started burning. Seemed perfectly reasonable: after all, I'm not in the best shape right now and I had a heavy backpack on.

My feet started hurting a bit. Again, perfectly reasonable: I've had to gain weight, putting more pressure on my feet, and I'd added additional weight by strapping on the backpack.

My biceps and tricepts started feeling tired.

Weird.

I had to think about this one a little bit. It's not like I was doing speedwork, where I was really using my whole body to propel myself forward......

What could it be?

I was using my arms more to prevent myself from falling over, stranded turtle-like, in the middle of the West Side Highway path!

Interesting!

Well, I got there, anyway.