JustRunJustLiveJustBe

This post is meant to be.

After I told you yesterday that I was going to talk about what a runner eats, I opened not one but two emails about that very thing. And I’ll give you three guesses as to just how happy that makes me, on a scale of one to ten. If you said a billion and fifty, you’d be right. What more reassurance does someone need than knowing what they want to talk about is also what someone may want to read about? Little, I tell you, and although not everyone will be interested in it, that is so not what we do around here anyway.

As if that weren’t enough, did anyone watch Nova’s Marathon Challenge last night? I tell you what, even if you’re not a runner nor desire to train for distance running, it is worth the hour. (And okay, I will just say right here how I teared up at the end because there is nothing like that finish line feeling.) I especially like that one of the doctors said we’re born with “large, muscular butts.” Something about that statement just made me feel good about running and my butt.

I also liked that the documentary touched on how valuable physical activity can be for a person, even at first. To paraphrase one of the doctors, it was stated that even after one day of exercise, you are healthier than you were the day before. One day. I was glad I’d heard this statement because that’s the point I wanted to make about food, and eating. And a runner eating. Especially THIS runner. Because though some people (me!) might say that I’m not perfect, that I have a long way to go, I can verify this. After just one day of eating what I should. good fuel, I’m healthier than the days I didn’t. I can feel it.

In many ways, it is that simple. And I’m not just talking about looking in the mirror and liking what we see, or fitting into those jeans we wore in high school. I’m talking about our bodies. The way they work. The way we treat them. We all know this, we know what’s good and bad. There are no secrets. But for most of us, it is a check-and-balance system. We must be aware of what we’re putting in if we’re counting on what we’re going to get back.

This has become more than obvious to me over the last year. As much time as I’ve spent running, I’ve spent that much more not running; and, have often been guilty of not paying a lot of attention to what I put into my body in either instance. I was good but not that good. I was careful but not that careful. So when I was finally able to get back to regular running, it was either pay attention or pay for it. I know, how profound.

The truth is, as if we all didn’t know already, I am not an expert. What I am, though, is a trial and error professional on my own body. Which brings me to my two recent emails. Email number one asked “how do you run and lose weight at the same time?” and email number two asked “how do you find the time to eat well with a busy schedule?” Well here is my non-professional, professional answer: it is hard, y’all. Sometimes you just want some fries.

But if there were two “tips” I could give anyone it would be to a) pay attention and b) to plan. Neither of these, if you show even a half-assed dedication to, will fail you. The first, tracking, is perhaps the most important. I use FitDay.com but there are a number of sites and services out there that will function in basically the same way. Because not only do you need to know how much (i.e. was that cinnamon roll worth it?), but you also need to know what your day is made of. Carbs… protein… fat, they are all in there. They are all necessary in there. But you have to know how much, and you have to know how much is right for you. I, for instance, can go pretty high on carbs and still maintain or lose weight. I attribute that to running. If, however, I start to push the fat grams day after day, bad things start happening. I still eat about 15-20% more fat than recommended for “an average person of my size.” You have to find what’s right for you.

Number two, planning. This, as my seven-year-old cousin would say, is for serious. I can go about a day and a half without planning meals and still be okay. I mean, McDonald’s has that fruit and apple thing, and the vending machine at the office has those no-fat pretzels, and ohhh, look! Chipotle has a salad! But that cannot last. And I’m not saying you’re me but if you were, that fruit and apple thing and those pretzels are just the top of a slippery slope. One that leads to a sausage biscuit and a packet of cupcakes because what? It is almost the same thing.

Well I don’t know about you, but if I’m going to go for biscuits and cupcakes, it should be ones my mother made at home in the kitchen, not something that’s been sitting in deep freeze for five months. (Not that I know that for sure.) So it becomes about planning. We’re not a single responsibility society. We don’t get up at 7:00, go to work at 9:00, come home at 5:00 to dinner on the table and get to bed by 9:00 just to do it all over again. That’s not what we’re made of. We get up and go to the gym, and walk the dog, and water the lawn and shovel the snow, and shuttle kids, and grocery shop. We multi-task our days away with phone calls and after-work plans, and running at lunch, and running errands, and eating at desks, or in the car. We don’t come home but we go to football practice, or peleton training (yes, I know people who do this every day) and have dinner plans and, well, you see what I mean. You know what I mean. You do what I mean. And while it’s all good, a busy schedule does not a healthy meal make.

So after all that, I’ll get right to it. I have two staple meals that seem to get me by when I have no time to cook. Rule Number One: Slow cookers are not only for your grandmother anymore. Chopped raw vegetables, chicken broth and well-marinated meat are my best recommendations for having that meal waiting for you at 5:00.

And if you’re not a meat-eating person/runner/other kind of athlete, you can substitute vegetable broth and eliminate the chicken and add beans instead. I would marinate the beans, though, because you’re going to want the flavor. You need the protein, you might as well like it. (Sorry, there are no photos of the chicken, you’re just going to have to trust me that it made it’s way in there. I have some unexplainable aversion to photographing meat, raw or cooked. I have no idea why.)

My second go-to, which a lot of good cooks will veto right off the bat, is canned food. And bagged food, and yes, while we’re at it, frozen food. But let me explain why. Active, busy people (like you) need balanced food, with vitamins and stuff. And when you eat food, particularly vegetables, that have been canned or frozen at their peak, they’re going to still have all that good stuff without all that annoying chopping and preparation. Also, you can combine all of this into one nice bowl of yay-here’s-dinner-now-let’s-go-do-some-homework kind of meal. It’s easy.

Rule Number Two: Pasta is not the enemy. Whole wheat and/or enriched pasta is all over now. It’s all natural and it’s actually got things added to it that make it better than ever. Very good reasons to keep it around.

To your pasta, you can add canned chicken or fish and steamed frozen vegetables. I know, canned meat. I KNOW. While it is nothing fancy, there is also nothing wrong with it. It’s going to do just what you need it to do and, like before, you add the flavor. Ta-da! Food waiting for you to make it into something good. And something that will give your body fuel to do what you want it to do. (Warning: Breaking the No Meat Photograhpy rule.)

I’m quite certain this was scads (scads?) too long and not appealing to everyone. These are by no means gourmet meals. They are nowhere near the best you can get from a slow cooker or from a bag of pasta. They are not going to win awards. What they do is provide a good base for those days when you don’t think you have time for anything but a hot pocket and a prayer. And we can give our bodies better than that.

Three times today I’ve heard someone use the word “spooktacular.” Not that spooktacular is even a word, but I found it especially annoying. This is most likely true because I spent a day in bed with some spooktacular virus, which is going around, yes, I know. But then my dog also got sick, and have you ever had to clean up after the dog while you’re on the brink of losing it yourself? Not a good idea. And why is it they always choose to travel while they’re sick? As if I need a trail to find her there, moping in her yes-I-ruined-the-carpet-again depression. I did not have the energy for that. I have no idea how my mother ever took care of kids while she was sick. That is a different kind of strength, one not shared with me at this point in time.

So yes, I am sick. My dog is sick. If my truck breaks down or my wife leaves me, I’m going to write a song about it. It matters little that I have neither a truck nor a wife, the important part is that I’m inspired. Inspired and a little “out of it,” as they say. And they do say that, when they’re trying to be polite and not use words like insane or crazy. Which reminds me, if I emailed you in the last 24 hours, please feel free to ignore (read: love me anyway) any part of the email that may seem “out of it.” Because I was. There may have been some waxing poetic, some “I love yous” and an Ally McBeal reference or two. Though I totally stand behind it, I think the cold medicine made it such that I may not remember it.

But now, as my head is coming out of the virus cloud, as I no longer need to close my eyes because the moments of OH MY GOSH, THAT T.V. IS SO BRIGHT. IS THIS THE T.V. WE NORMALLY WATCH? THIS ONE SEEMS SO MUCH BRIGHTER are over for now. Along with my being annoyed by cute little words like “spooktacular.”

Tomorrow I’m going to write about what runners eat. Or at least what this runner eats. Because what better time to talk about what I eat than when I haven’t had anything significant for nearly 48 hours and therefore “appear” to have lost several pounds. Also, everyone but me will be eating candy. Yuck. (Have I not mentioned that before? Yeah, chocolate makes me shudder and get that face you make after you’ve just drank spoiled milk out of the carton.)

A couple weekends ago, when I was still trying to figure out how to get back to a place with running where it felt more like I was doing something good and less like I was torturing myself, a new running friend invited me to meet her and run in a place I’d never been before. Always one to take advantage of new running buddies, I agreed to be there.

We weren’t two miles into the run when something in me just felt wonderful. I am usually very cautious to predict a run so early on, but I knew this one was going to be good. Even if I didn’t feel so great, I had new surroundings. And sometimes that’s all you need to get the miles in. It was a welcome distraction to gaze into the Fall trees and forget about pace and breathing. I didn’t have to run fast, I just had to keep going.

We ran early in the morning, and were very alone on this new-to-me trail. It was a mix of cool air and those warm “pockets” early morning athletes often encounter. Just enough to remind you that the rising sun would soon be rendering your gloves useless. The trails were open and clear, which worked out well for me because I couldn’t keep my eyes off of everything else. The way the trees stood out, the way the trail curved through them. It was the most peaceful run I’d been on in months. The air was quiet and still, along with any ache or pain I’d had in the days leading up to the run.

I had time to think. I thought about how I’d like to have more runs like this. I didn’t mind a slower pace. I thought about how maybe, just maybe, if the end of 2007 went well, I could start working on speed again for 2008. I thought about how I’ve spent almost a year in recovery, and how lucky I’ve been to stage any sort of running “come back” at all. It’s only been through hard work, a lot of help and my learning, begrudgingly, to be patient that I’m now able to be out here at all. I’m still uncertain of what lies ahead, and the picture may never be clear, but it’s more than enough motivation for me to keep going.

A new place to run can do all sorts of things for a runner. It can challenge you, it can reassure you, and it can put you at ease. It can have such an affect on you that you drag your sister back later that day to run while you obsessively take photos of this new-to-you, magical place. But mostly, this new place to run, even though it’s been around for decades, can come into your life at just the right time to remind you that no matter how you do it, no matter how you find it, getting out there is the only goal. Everything after that is just for fun.

One reality about the times in life when things happen that just about stop you in your tracks is that the rest of life is content with carrying on. The world? Still spinning. Imagine that.

About two weeks ago, I was walking, casually, down my hallway carefully carrying my laptop under my arm to move it from it’s more permanent place on my couch to this very strange place called my office. I was about six feet from the desk and, just like some kind of magic (read: gravity) the laptop slipped out from under my arm and hit the carpet with a light thud. No big deal, right? This laptop has crossed many miles of land and sea without so much as a blip, so I set it on the desk, plugged in the power cord and a couple minutes later, came back into the room to see this:

And then my stomach dropped to my feet.

So after calling myself stupid several times, as well as cursing the fate that was so obviously out of my control, I collected myself and thought this does not have to be all bad. I didn’t really believe myself, because at that moment in time I knew less than nothing about laptop screens, laptop hardware or anything really to do with this laptop other than how it brings me to the magical Internet each day.

I do have some great geek buddies, though, so the next day, I called one of them and told him what happened.

“Is this your primary machine?”

Ha! He asked with such innocence. As if me, someone who is still amazed by the concept of Wireless, has more than one machine. Yeah, sure… I just keep it here in the lab, with my other advanced technology, like them thar fancy teevee remote controls and that thar fancy ‘lectric toothbrush.

“Umm, yeah, Jason, it is. And no, I do not have an extended warranty.” You would have thought I was burning the computer geek flag right there on the grave of Konrad Zuse himself. I mean, how can you exist in the world without an extended warranty?

So after my buddy got over his shock, he contacted some of his other hardware nerd hot friends while I called HP. Boy, was that a laugh. HP, bless their heart (that is what us polite folk say when we really want to tell someone to go and you-know-what up a you-know-what), wanted just under $1,000 to install a new screen. And the hot, sexy nerds? Well that was going to run me around $400-ish. And while I have no problem paying for some good nerdery, this still seemed a bit much. I mean, $400-ish is a nice plane ticket and dude, have you seen the Farmer’s Almanac predictions for Colorado this Winter? We are going to need to go to the beach.

So I decided to whip out some of my own sexy nerdery and hit eBay. Now, there are a lot of good sites out there that will sell you some fabulous, guaranteed, certified equipment but you have to look to actually get a good deal. And you have to be willing to research to get it. And what better did I have to do with a half-working screen than to find a new, better, working one? Nothing, I tell you. So, I found it.

Okay, one job down. Now comes the fun part, the installation. The hardware buddies, though reluctant, will still work with this unknown, apparently alien equipment. For $75/hour. Considering I’d just spent about half their quoted price on a screen, $75 didn’t sound too bad. Until I did more research, and found all these great geekery forums on the magical Internet that said things like “you can totally replace your own laptop screen” and “I have never touched a bit of hardware in my life and I did this” and “it will take you less than an hour and it’s only like five steps.” I couldn’t believe the thought was crossing my mind, but it was. I convinced myself I could do this. One, I have a lot of time. It is not necessarily open but it sure isn’t $75 an hour. And I know it’s only $75 and I know I had no idea what I was doing, but I also have this little thing with challenge. You see, I can’t resist it.

So when Fed-Ex delivered my shiny, new screen a few nights ago, I was ready to get out my little Phillips screwdriver and go for it.

Incredibly, it was just as easy as the directions said. Seriously, you remove screws, you remove the bezel (woohoo, look at me! New word!), you detach a couple of very delicate but very obvious cables, lift out the old screen and then reverse the steps to install the new one. I am not the most patient person ever, so the hardest part for me was going really slow and making sure I didn’t beat the crap out of anything because, my gosh, HP, why all the glue?! But other than that, it could not have been more simple.

As I put in the last screw, I started to get really nervous. I was about 50/50 on whether or not I’d put the battery back in and the computer, my primary machine (heh!), would actually work. But be still my ever-growing nerd heart, it actually did.

Oh my crap, I did something.

I know this might be the lamest post ever but seriously, how could I help it? I’ve crossed into some new realm of geekery. Behold, the Hardware Princess. Or, you know, something less freakish.

I ran into work the next day and called my nerd friend.

“Jason, I’m sorry to tell you this but I ended up just replacing the screen myself.”

“…”

“Umm, hello? Did you hear me? I did it myself. And it works. Is that not amazing?”

“Wow, that is even beyond MY level. I do not mess with laptops. EVER.”

And while I wanted to tell him that a) is was not beyond his level and b) he could do it with his eyes closed, I also wanted to gloat.

Yes, I can replace laptop screens. And I can also walk in heels, run a two hour half-marathon, and bake fantastic banana bread. BOW DOWN.

Do you ever, even if you know it’s not necessary, even if you are in a place you’ll never be again, even if it is obvious, step past someone coming out of a bathroom or an elevator or other enclosed space and feel the need to say, “I swear, it smelled like that when I got in here?”

Today I turned twenty-eight years old.

I’m only stating it like that because if a person could ever go through an entire year feeling (and acting) like they were twenty and then, within a week, feel themselves age an entire year (or eight), that is what I have done. For a lot of reasons, I really felt this one.

About a week ago, two days before an already scheduled doctor’s visit, I found two small lumps in one of my breasts. Being that I have found a lump once before, that after further investigation turned out to not be a concern, I just told myself to relax and it would be the first thing I told the doctor on Thursday morning. Still, the next forty-eight hours would not be fun. It would not be fun to be around me, nor would I make it easy. I wasn’t mean or rude, just distracted. I wanted to listen to people, really I did, but I found myself not being anywhere completely. It was more as if I was floating just outside the bubble of my life, watching in a front-row seat.

The moment I saw my doctor, she could tell I was concerned. She examined the lumps and possibly just to reassure me, sent me directly over to see a friend of hers, a specialist, right after my appointment. Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot stress this enough: it is so very important to have a good relationship with your health care providers. Had my doctor not taken me seriously, I think I was about twelve hours from an honest break down. I just wanted to know. She knew that.

Maybe it’s because of the many people I’ve worked with in the past who’ve been diagnosed with cancer. Maybe it’s because of the two friends of mine currently undergoing treatment for breast cancer. Maybe it’s because I read the blog nearly every day of a heroic woman, living with cancer. I don’t know. What I do know is that it’s all-too-real for me and whatever I might have had to deal with, I was not going to wait to start.

The specialist, after more examination and breast smashing, as well as an opinion from another doctor (a male doctor, don’t even get me started on the breast-smashing weirdness of that one) I was told this was not a concern. These lumps that I found, they will likely go away just as the one before did. I was, of course, relieved.

I’d spent the days before that moment thinking and wondering and worrying. It crossed my mind so many times of how, at twenty-eight, I feel like I’ve just barely begun. There is so much more I want my mind and my body and my heart to learn and live. There is just so much. There’s a shadow of selfishness in saying that, because I know how many times the diagnosis has gone in the opposite direction. I know how many people this touches. And it’s hard to separate my own gratitude from my sadness over what’s been taken away from others. I don’t know that there are any “right” ways of feeling in a situation like this.

What those few days brought on was entirely unexpected. Over the weekend I went through somewhat of a roller coaster in regard to the state of my life. I questioned so many things, I worried about so many things. Do I spend too much money? Do I not spend enough? Am I a good enough friend? Am I good at loving and being loved? Am I capable enough? Am I selfish? Am I a good enough sister/daughter/granddaughter/employee? Perhaps this is all normal, but in the thick of it, in the moments spent in the stark reality that nothing is guaranteed, I felt lost. I felt that if right now, if everything were to change, if everything were to stop, there would just be so much I don’t know.

What I do know, though, is that I want what I have. So often we’re after what we don’t have, what we want next, and I am guilty of that. I spend a lot of time testing the waters, stretching the limits, pushing the boundaries, and why not? But what I also want to be sure I’m doing is spending my time, every moment from this twenty-eighth year forward, in a way that shows I do not take it for granted. Over the course of my years there may be very little I have to give, but I can promise that much. I want so badly to prove every day that I’m so grateful to be on this trip at all.

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If you need more information on Breast Cancer Awareness, please click here. October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. Please, please, ladies, gentlemen, and the ladies and gentlemen that love other ladies and gentlemen, DO YOUR SELF BREAST EXAMS.

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Thank you so much to those of you who emailed over the last few days. I am sorry I haven’t been better about blog visiting, but that should resume shortly. I’ve missed everyone!

Despite enjoying every second of it and despite wanting so badly to talk about it, I haven’t had made the time to talk about the Fall season even a little bit. And it’s not like I’d be the first to wax poetic about this time of year. The warmth mixed with the cool, the colors, the change, they’ve all left me in yet another state of amazement with what a little bit of nature can do for a person.

A few weeks ago, we headed up to the mountains to watch the first changes of the season happen right before our very eyes. And because it snowed just about all day today, and because it was seventy-five beautiful degrees all day yesterday, and because I’ve had one of the more rough weekends of my life, I give you photos.

The Rocky Mountains, Fall 2007: