Progress. I Think.

Ten months in the gym and I haven’t smacked anyone yet.  Now that’s what I call progress!Gym Bitch

Okay well, there IS that.  But other than annoying non-weight rackers, the weird-distracting-arm-circles-while-on-the-bike-guy, stinky chic, and the insufferable WHY CAN’T YOU JUST WIPE OFF THE FREAKIN’ MACHINE WHEN YOU’RE DONE SWEATING ALL OVER KINGDOM COME people, my return to gymdom has actually been pretty enjoyable.  Now that’s not to say I haven’t had some downer moments, especially lately, but I’m doing my best to keep a good attitude.  After all, at least I still CAN work out.  Just like this guy.


Yes, fuzzy butt. I do.

Ever notice how much time you spend bending your knees, especially when you can’t?  Per doctor’s orders, no bending the patellas more than 90 degrees, and especially, no more than 30 degrees when doing leg extensions.  Talk about actually having to pay attention to what you’re doing.  And if you know me at all, then you know my attention span doesn’t exactly fall in the spectacular department.  But as long as I can still work up a sweat and feel like I’m accomplishing SOMETHING, then I’m happy with that.  Accomplish that something without actually dropping a weight on an irritating, self-absorbed gym rat? Now that’s what I call a WIN.


And really.  Who can be irritated when after more than FOUR YEARS, the hubby has been able to consistently run WITHOUT FOOT PAIN?  Yes, that’s right, NO FOOT PAIN.  Let me say it again in case you didn’t get it the first ten times – NO FOOT PAIN!  Seriously peoples, you have no idea how big a marvelous, stupendous, spectacular deal that is.  Even the achy legs he has after running outside yesterday is worth every bit of lactic acid buildup.  (Between you and me, I think it may have had something to do with the fancy new shoes he got on sale at Shoebuy for $75.)

Ed's Brooks

Ooooooooh, pretty.

Did I mention I spent half an hour on the phone the other day with The Man’s nurse?  Let me tell ya, that woman is a plethora of all things knee knowledge.  She spent all that time explaining to me why we’re traversing the road of conservatism with my knees.  In a nutshell, I need to alleviate the inflammation.  Then – and stick with me here a minute – I need to actually INFLAME them all over again, but at a more “manageable” level.  Remember I told you the back of my patellas were all chewed up and ripping up the cartilage behind them?  Well, I actually need to let them do that.  Why in the name of all that is ibuprofen, do you need to DO that Black Dog, you may ask?  Because.  If I let my body “plane out” the cartilage/patella naturally – instead of surgically – then it will do that to the specific angles that it needs, whereas a surgeon might not be able to do so.  Basically, surgery would be a best guess scenario versus Mother Nature knows what she’s doing kind of deal.

Yeah I got this.  And this lynx too.

Yeah I got this. And this lynx too.

Patience is called for in this scenario.  E-GADS.  I’m more of an immediate gratification kind of gal.  (That’s why I can almost get on board with Amazon Prime’s two-day shipping.  Almost.)  I need these knees to be fixed YESTERDAY.  Hear that, Mama of All Things Wise and Furry?  YES-TER-DAY.  I promise not to over-water the plants, under-water the flowers, or stomp out any bugs.  Except the roaches.  All bets are off with those nasty, nuclear-holocaust-surviving-creepers-of-ick.  Just get these suckers better.  Fast.  And feel free to take out a few of these ick monsters along the way.

Not a chance scumhead.

Not a chance scumhead.

So if patience is what I need to have, then patient I will be.  I almost sound like I mean that, don’t I?  In the meantime, please feel free to keep me distracted/entertained/pinned down and beaten until the parts have decided to forgive me for years of punishment.  After all, what does one do once one has healed but start the beat-down all over again?  Hmmm, sounds curiously like the definition of runner…


Enjoy the ride.

Ever find being patient more difficult than long runs or speed work?  Are you a killer of all things green?  When is the last time you felt the urge to throw a dumb bell at someone?

Heads Or Tails

I freely admit it.  A couple of weeks ago, I felt like this.

Whatever it


After my last visit to The Man resulted in a big KO to my running career, I understandably went into my own special state of pissheadedness. (Yes, that is an actual state of mind.  Swear. Look it up.)  Coupled with the fact that I could no longer visit my lovely state of calmness, calorie burning, mind numbing, pavement pounding, was the fact that after more than four years – yes, YEARS – the hubby finally sought a third opinion, (courtesy of The Man), on his ongoing foot problems.  One visit to this new foot guy and VOILA!  He can run!  AGAIN!  Now, by NO means get me wrong here.  I am THRILLED beyond belief that he can run virtually pain-free after so many years.  It’s the damn IRONY of the friggin’ situation that gets to me.  Why, after all this time, is he suddenly able to start running again at the same exact moment I have to stop?!?  I truly believe that somewhere, in some cosmic karmic hell, some little bratty demon, who most likely got beat up on the playground when he was an even smaller little bratty baby demon, is laughing his dupa off at all of this.  You will pay one day you obnoxious little brat.  Oh yes, you will pay.  Once I go all Maleficent on your dupa.


Until that moment though, I am patiently – okay, not so much – waiting for the day that I can get back into these.

Like the wind.  Really.

Hi babies.  Mommy misses you.  A LOT.

I don’t mind plopping my happy dupa on stationary bikes, recumbent bikes, or walking the dreadmill.  Wonder Mutt is thrilled as she’s getting in even more quality sniffing time as the Mom Person is taking her for a lot more walking than usual.  How is that even possible?  Hmmmmm……

Let's GOOOOOOO!!!!!!

Can we go? Can we go?  Can we? Can we? Huh? Huh? Huh?  Let’s GOOOOOOO!!!!!!

But.  Let’s be honest.  If runners were patient people, then we probably wouldn’t BE runners.  We want to be crossing that finish line already.  Even if that finish line is at least three FREAKING MONTHS AWAY.  But.  I will get there.  One way or another.

Just. Gotta. Stretch.

Just. Gotta. Try….

In the meantime though, I know myself well enough to know there will be moments of absolute insanity, pouting, tears, and possibly even some intermittent throwing of inanimate objects.  Which may or may not include said Brooks Ghost 7’s.  But I’ll get over it quickly enough, put on my big girl pants which hopefully will not get any bigger, and do what I have to do to heal.  Of course, being the oh-so-patient girl that I am, (N-O-T), I may not even wait the requested three months and end up going back to The Man and tell him to just slice me open and let’s get this crap fixed.  The thought of surgery scares the crap out of me, but if it will get me back on the road again, (anyone else hearing REO Speedwagon music?), then I’m all in.



So let’s hear it people.  What’s your opinion?  Should I be patient and see how it goes, more than likely to end up right back here again?  Or should I just bite the bullet and get it over with?  I’m curious to see what people think.  Please, weigh in!  We’ll consider this the first official unofficial BDRD opinion poll.  Winners will win a year’s worth of free Moose Tracks.  You’re welcome.


Enjoy the ride.

What do you think?  Should I try to be patient and see how it goes, or go back to The Man and go the surgical route instead?  

Crazy Days

Since the time for creating this little literary piece of genius is extremely limited today, I’m going to blow through this like the tornado my brain looks like.  So hang on.  It might get scary.

My brain.  Constantly.

My brain. Constantly.

Wonder Mutt – I walked in the door yesterday to what sounded like a lion trying to hack up a hairball.  Apparently Lucy thought it would be nice to leave us with a parting gift – aka kennel cough.  Off to the vet we go this afternoon.  On the up side, Lucy did find her furever home and went home with her new humans last night. #Adoptionwin



Brooks Ghost 7s – Cranked out my first three miles in the new dogs last night and may I say they rock?  Okay, thanks.  They ROCK!  Of course mine look much better buried in Beecause Charms bling.  Just sayin’.

Like the wind.  Really.

Like the wind. Really. Blustery.

Running – I am happy to report that the pavement and I have been getting along pretty well lately.  I was actually able to crank out the aformentioned 3 miler with a training PR average mile of 9:12.  May sound like zombie pace to most of you, but for this turtle, it may as well have been Greased Lightning.

"...burning up the quarter mile..."

“…burning up the quarter mile…”

Laser therapy – Since I’m going no holds barred with trying to keep that nasty ITBS from making a reappearance, I’m trying something new.  Twice a week, I get beat up for a few minutes by a massage therapist (aka retired member of the WWF), followed by a few minutes of getting zapped by this thing.

The doctor's name is Jetson.  Honest.  I wouldn't kid you.  Okay, maybe.

The doctor’s name is Jetson. Honest. I wouldn’t kid you. Okay, maybe.

I even get to wear what looks like yellow cataract glasses while I’m getting zapped.  Fashion score to say the least.  I may even try to market them for the fashion conscious runner.  #not

So that’s my brain vomit for the day.  My apologies if it gave you motion sickness.  Just send me your PayPal information and I’ll send you a bottle of Pepto right away.  I’m helpful like that.

Enjoy the ride.

Ever have one of those weeks where it feels like you’re living in the middle of a Disney ride?  How do you keep from going completely insane?