running: the dawn

Sigh.

I wish that it had gone better…

Yesterday I realized that this is not just my 5th and final 20 miler for this training cycle, it is the last time I will get to do a long run here.  Next Saturday we’re looking for housing in our new home town.  I’ll be on spring break, which means that we can take our time and look for a place that is going to fit us.  We won’t be back here until the next weekend…and that will be 6 days before we leave for Boston.  CRAZINESS.

So, yeah.  My last long run here.  Instead of enjoying it and soaking it all in… all I could think about was how slow I was running and how much my legs hurt.  I was shocked that my legs didn’t hold up at all.  Sure…I haven’t been running as much lately, so its not necessarily a surprise.  At least it shouldn’t have been.

It was 20 degrees when I started, so instead of the “dress rehearsal” I was hoping for, I ended up having to layer on all of my winter running gear: tights, baselayer, fleece jacket, gloves, earwarmers, and neck gaiter.  I will admit that I did enjoy the first half of the run.  The blue sky.  My audiobook.  The beautiful country side.  I actually warmed up enough to have Mr. Dawn bring me my lighter jacket.

Then I got to the turn around.  And discovered that I had been running WITH the wind the entire time.  All of a sudden there was a severe headwind.  Add to that I was headed right into the hilliest section of the route.  It was pretty demoralizing.  Luckily Mr. Dawn had agreed to meet me just on the other side of the hills, so I pressed on to the promised land of our rendezvous location.  After filling up my water bottle and complaining to him about how brutal the wind was, I set out on my long trek towards home.

I walked.  Several times.  There was no crying, but there was a lot of moaning in pain.  Every so often I had to stop and stretch my legs so that I could keep running.

It’s not the way I wanted my last 20 miler to go down…I really wanted to head into Hopkinton with a great training cycle and all the confidence in the world.  I know that Boston is going to be the greatest race I’ll ever run in and I’m having to accept that it’s not going to be my best performance.  It’s a tough pill to swallow.  Because no matter how many times I say “I’ll just go for the experience,” there is a part of me that wishes I would be in peak condition for this race.

Also, today, I packed my first box for our big move!  Go me!!!  I’m starting to realize that since we’ll be gone for the next three weekends, then we’ll have guests for the two weekends after that (one of which is Mr. Dawn’s graduation weekend)…there isn’t going to be a lot of time to be wrapping, labeling, and putting into well-marked boxes.  So, I’ve got to start.  I guess it would be more correct to say I should start HELPING.  Cause Mr. Dawn is neck deep into the packing.  He’s got almost all of our books organized, separated, cataloged and put into rubbermaids.  Cause he’s that awesome.

Me?  I’ve packed one box.  Its a start…

Wow.  We are four weeks away from the Boston Marathon?  I seriously can’t believe it!  Time is flying and I cannot wait!!!!

A while ago, Mr. Dawn and I found out that we are moving.  He has been working on his master’s degree and graduates in about 6 weeks.  So, I guess that we knew that there would be some changes a comin’, but now we have the official word.  The countdown has begun.  72 days until we move 14 hours away from here.

I’ve been asked over and over again how I feel about this move.  My responses have always been about the same, “Oh we’re looking forward to it,” or “We’re excited to start a new chapter of our lives,” or “I don’t really mind where we live.”  All of these are true.  I am a generally content person, I tend to live in the moment and enjoy where ever I am.  It feels adventurous to think about living in a new place where we don’t really know anyone.

But the reality of actually MOVING drives me bananas.  Our house is already starting to be filled with boxes.  I am going to be working up to the day of the move and then another 3 weeks after my house here will be empty.  Mr. Dawn graduates the first weekend in May and he starts at his new job the first of June.  During that time he’ll load up the truck, head down to our new town, and start to live our new life.  I, on the other hand, teach until the last Friday in May, and then I have to do end of the year meetings and wrap-up.  I haven’t gotten a solid day that I’m actually going to be leaving here…but it will be sometime the middle of June.

I guess the bottom line is this:  I am excited to start my new life, but until that actually happens I’m going to let myself morn the life that I’m leaving behind here.  Next Sunday I’m going to run my last 20 miler on my favorite loop.  There will be a last time that we eat at our favorite pizza place.  The last meal in our lime-green kitchen.  Its going to be sad.  I’ll have to say goodbye to my students.  That’s going to break my heart.

Needless to say…I’ve been a little distracted from my running.  I am not sure how I’m going to squeeze in everything the next four weeks.  It’s going to be tough with work, packing, and training….but I am going to soak up every second of it!!

I am so embarrassed!

I had a 15 miler scheduled for yesterday.  I made it 12 miles.

Here’s the story:

I made plans to run with a new running buddy who had a 12 miler planned.  I was then going to just loop around my neighborhood and finish up the last three miles on my own.  Mr. Woods, I’ll call him, showed up right on time, ready to roll.  We headed out on my favorite 12-mile loop.  By mile four, I was beginning to feel an uncomfortable gurgling in my stomach.  At mile six I had to dash off into the woods.  As my GPS clicked off 8 miles I felt so close to vomiting I had to stop and walk.

I have always prided myself on having an iron stomach.  I can eat almost anything without ever dealing with negative consequences.  In fact, during part of the run Mr. Woods had been asking about my pre-race nutrition plan.  I was laughing about how I can really handle just about anything without a problem when I started feeling the percolating in my belly.

When I stopped to walk, I assured him that I would be fine and encouraged him to head on without me.  He did and I was left to walk until the nausea subsided.  Kicking myself I went through the the meals from Saturday, trying to pinpoint the culprit.  When I couldn’t find any fault with my lunch of lasagna and salad or my dinner of veggie tacos, I turned my attention to earlier that day.  Was it the pancakes?  No, couldn’t be…. the eggs?  Maybe, but I’ve never had problems with that before…

I finally felt decent enough to run the last four miles home.  By the time I got there I had given up all hopes of finishing those last three miles.  I walked into the kitchen and there on the table I found my answer.

I had run some errands in town before going on my run.  In line and Marshalls these jelly beans screamed out to me.  Sugar free?  Sour?  Yes please!  What you can’t read in that picture, and what I didn’t read until after the unfortunate run is the little warning in the lower right hand corner.  It reads, “Consumption may cause stomach discomfort and/or laxative effect.  Individual tolerance will vary; we suggest starting with 8 beans or less.”

Awesome.

But you know what’s MORE awesome than that?  The fact that this EXACT SAME thing has happened to me before.  Not just “oh I accidentally ate something that was a laxative”…NO.  I have eaten this exact bag of beans before.  Right before I drove 11 hours in my car.  And I wondered why my stomach was so upset.  And I found the bag after the fact.  And read the label and had a good laugh at myself.

Last night as I laid in bed there was a full three-ring circus in my abdomen.  Complete with lions roaring, clowns juggling, acrobats flying, and my poor husband trying to sleep next to me.

Note to self: READ!

I just hope I can convince Mr. Woods that I’m not usually one to wimp out on a long run…

Um.  I’m pretty sure I almost died yesterday.  No seriously.  There was a mouse.  In my classroom.

Monday afternoon was the first sighting of the rodent.  It was just as school was ending and I came back into my classroom from being across the hall in the computer lab.  There were students mingling around and I saw a mouse dart out from my room and disappear into the room next to mine.  Um…excuse me?  I don’t remember giving a visitor’s pass to any disease carrying animals.

After all the students left, I was working on worksheets and lesson plans like any good diligent teacher would be.  And when I stood up from my desk to see how my handiwork looked after I printed it.  I froze after two steps.  I felt its eyes on me.  I glanced down and sure enough, the rascal was back, under a table looking at me with its beady little eyes.  Once again it scampered off before I could find where it was coming from.

Fast forward to yesterday right before my calculus class.  Several students had shown up to work on homework and get their questions answered.  In the spirit of full disclosure and wanting to give the heads up for the impending danger, I told everyone that I’d seen a mouse multiple times in the last 24 hours.  Quickly the girls zipped up their bags and moved all their belongings to the tops of the tables.

Not two minutes later, the gray tormentor stalked into the room.  Me, being the responsible adult in the room quickly set the example for appropriate actions by leaping onto my chair and screaming.  Several students followed suit.  However there were a few brave souls that decided to corral the animal and deposit him/her outside.

Finally.  I feel free. Ok, to be honest I do keep looking around…wondering when its going to find its way back in….

In my defense, this is NOT my first traumatizing episode with mice.  There was the summer camp drama of 1999.  And do even get me started about the 13 mice that lost their lives in the great battle of the attic apartment in 2005.