Day 28--I'm calling this thing...Tough Mudder 2013, here I come!

Yes, I know the whole purpose of this thing was not to quit.  Trust me, I do not do this easily.

It's the knee.  I hurt it two Fridays ago doing a cutesy little dance move in Soul Grooves.  Sooooooooo incredibly frustrating because we do all these plyo moves in there, and I've done the P90X craziness, and I'm spinning 3-5 hours a week, plus I've been increasing my run distance (6 miles two weeks ago), but the thing that gets me is a little samba move.  Yeesh!!  I've said from the beginning I have no business in Zumba or Soul Grooves because I can't move like my beautiful instructors can.  I guess I proved it by jacking up my knee doing something so little.  I felt it when it happened, but because I didn't want to quit, I finished class and went to spin after for another hour-long class after that.

I haven't made it back to the gym since.

I've been icing it and resting it, and I thought it might have been feeling better, but after spending the day at the beach yesterday, my stupid knee was throbbing on the drive home.  I wasn't doing anything crazy, but just being up on it took a toll.  Came home last night and iced it again but it still hurts today.  After a consultation with my Tough Mudder Partner and his brilliant doctor girlfriend (who is as much of a Bad A$$ as he is--she's training for her first Iron Man), seems like the smart thing to do is call this thing now and not risk worsening the injury.

I was seriously considering transferring my Mudder registration to the one in Tampa for the first weekend in December, my birthday weekend.  But not really sure how long I'll be off the knee, and then how much time I'll need to get back in the swing of things (can I just say I HATE that I can't go to the gym!?!?), so as much as I'd like to get this thing done before year's end, I've decided to set my sights on the October 2013 Mudder right here in Houston.  

In the meantime, I'm going to focus on getting myself certified to teach spin by the end of 2012 and then start training hard again for the Mudder as soon as 2013 starts.

Hey, not the original plan, but yet another life lesson has presented itself on this crazy journey.  My life has certainly not turned out the way I planned.  I have always been a planner.  An organizer.  Someone who has to know how everything is going to turn out.  Until recently.  If you asked me at 17 or 22 or 27 or 32 if I thought I'd be here at 40, I'd have told you you were CRAZY.  Not me.  I was going to be happily married with 2.5 kids, successful legal career, white picket fence...a perfect little life tied up with a bow.

That is not the life I have.  But I have a great life.  I have the most amazing daughter who makes me proud everyday and makes me work to be the best mom I can possibly be.  I have the most wonderful parents who support me unconditionally who have taught me what it means to be loved.  I have the coolest friends--both old and new-- who make me laugh and love the crazy side of life and who have been through so much with me; they're all priceless.  And even though we're not together anymore, I still consider myself lucky for the time I did have with the man I still consider my soul mate.  The short time we spent together restored my faith in true love and my belief that I can be totally and completely happy with another person.

So, not the original plan, but I wouldn't trade my life for anyone's.  I am a lucky girl, and I'm not going to be down for a second that the stupid knee is keeping me from earning my orange headband in two weeks.  Because I know I'll earn it.  And the original goal has definitely been met:  I am a much stronger person than I was when I started this journey.  And I keep getting stronger every day.

The Mudder in 2013...you know 13 is my lucky number, right?  Maybe I'll change the title of my blog.  I'm not worried about dying anymore.  I kinda think I'd like to rock this thing next year, not just survive it.  But it's kind of a catchy title, so I'll stick with it for now.

Oh, by the way, if anyone's looking for a goal for the new year, join me.  I promise you won't die.

Day 27--The Goddess of Doing Stupid Things that Hurt

Well, maybe not "stupid" things.  Really more like hard or challenging or scary.  But it was a much catchier response to the exbf calling me a goddess than The Goddess of Doing Things That Are Hard and That She Never Thought She Could Do and That Really Hurt.

The Mudder is a month and two days away.  [Pause here for a blood curdling scream].

I celebrated my progress and my last month until The Reckoning by spending the long weekend with my adopted family.  We didn't go out for happy umbrella drinks because one of my adopted sisters is pregnant, but we did do a nice lunch and day at the spa.  Then I went with my other adopted sister to get a tattoo.  I'd seen a quote on Pinterest that really summed up this journey I'm on, and I thought it would make a really pretty tattoo. 

I was not sure where to put it, though, but thanks to Pinterest again, I decided on my left side ribcage.  All of the Pinterest people look really happy with their choice of putting their pretty tattoos there.  When I told folks I was thinking of getting one there, everyone reacted the same way: "ouch."  But really, how painful could seven little words be?

Really painful.  REALLY FRICKIN' PAINFUL. But I had a great tattoo artist and my own cheering section providing fuzzy blankets for me when I got cold and foot massages for me when the pain was tough.  Sounds like I'm telling the story of when my daughter was born.  At least I had Demerol then.  And an epidural.  Either or both would have been nice with the tattoo.  When he got to the last letter of the last word, we all cheered.  And then it was done.  And I love the way it looks, but even more than that, I am proud of myself for getting through it.

It may seem like I'm into pain lately, or maybe having a midlife crisis, but I can attest that I do not at all like things to hurt, and I'm not at all in crisis mode.  I have always avoided anything painful, and certainly never tried to do things that I knew would hurt.  If they hurt, or if I thought they might, forget it.  That's what I'm trying to change...I'm trying to make myself pain-resistant.  A kick-a$$ version of my old self.  An X-man or an Avenger.  An Immortal.  A Goddess...

"She believed she could so she did."  I've looked up the quote, trying to figure out if it comes from a movie or a book.  No luck so far, so I'm claiming it as my own.  You can accomplish anything if you believe in yourself, or put another way, if you don't believe in yourself, you'll never accomplish anything.  I chose the Mudder because it was something hard, something that would certainly be painful, something I'd have to dig deep to get through. Really really hard.  The kind of thing that most people don't do.  Two and a half months ago, I was nowhere near ready to tackle it.  But I believed that I would be by the time I get to the course on October 6th.  Now, here we are, in our last month.  I admit I'm scared.  I can't even imagine how scared I'll be the day of.  But this journey is to force me to deal with painful things and endure hard things so I can come out on the other side this amazing new stronger version of myself.   I know when I get to that finish line, I will be proud of myself for getting through it.

Your resident Goddess of Doing Stupid Things That Hurt did more than just get a tattoo this weekend.  I saw the exbf for the first time since the break up.  And it wasn't hard at all...it was so easy, actually.  Easy just like it always was.  We had a really nice visit.  It was great to know we really can be friends.  People say that all the time, but most can't really do it because it's too hard.  It wasn't hard at all to be his friend.  The painful part was that it was so easy, and that two people who have fun together and care about each other have no future.  But even though that part hurt, that was nothing new, and I was proud of myself for getting through it.

Maybe none of these things will ever truly make me resistant to pain.  I guess that's pretty impossible if you choose to still do the things that can hurt, like loving people, believing in fairy tales and happily ever after, wishing for a happy ending to your own story.  I absolutely choose to do all those things, which I guess earns me the title of Goddess of Doing Stupid Things That Hurt.  But what would life be life if I didn't?  Not the kind I will be proud of myself for getting through.

You can't avoid pain.  But if you are strong, and you have cheerleaders to help you through it, it definitely won't kill you.

Day 26--"The trouble is, you think you have time."--Buddha

We all talk about time a lot.  There never seems to be enough time to get it all done.  Time moves too slowly when you're stuck at work and moves too quickly every weekend.  We're all really good at wasting time (can we say Facebook, Pinterest, watching multiple reruns of The Big Bang Theory all in a row...).  You wonder where the time went when you realize your baby starts fifth grade in the morning.  Time...

I like inspirational sayings.  I swear sometimes those folks are talking just to me.  Like today, while I was busy wasting time on Pinterest, I stumbled upon a quote from Buddha:  "The trouble is, you think you have time."  And we do, don't we?  We put off so many things because we believe we've got tomorrow, or next weekend or next month.  Maybe we don't call our parents enough, maybe we don't play enough with our kids, maybe we don't exercise because we think we have tomorrow.

What if we don't?

I know there's a local preacher dude and his wife who wrote a book about living each day of your life as if it was the last one.  I'm not big into organized religion, but I totally dig the premise of the book.  Yes, there are things we just can't avoid doing every day because we have bills to pay--working--but there are still plenty of hours in the day and in the week that we could really do better with.  I know I could.  And I can promise you that if today was my last day, if I was about to be out of time, I would have spent the whole day just talking to my daughter.  I would make sure she knew how much I love her, am proud of her, and that I know she's going to have a wonderful life.  I would be more patient, and I would laugh as much as I could.  I would hug her a lot. 

So what if today wasn't my last, but what if I only had a few months?  How would I live my life differently?  How many more chances would I take?  How much time would I waste?

I bought a print from Brian Andreas several years ago, and I credit it with forcing me to make a change in my life, to leave a job that kept me from my daughter. 

There is exactly enough time for the important things in your life.  You just have to decide what they are.

We took a spontaneous trip up Dallas to see the Cowboys play last night.  It was just a preseason game, but the tickets were so cheap, and I knew we wouldn't be able to afford to go again this season, so we decided to go and we went.  And we had a great time, and made some great memories.  Yeah, it was the weekend before school started.  Sure, we still had stuff to do to get ready.  But this was an important thing...making memories with my daughter was an important thing, and there was exactly enough time to take a roadtrip with her.

I'm about 6 weeks away from the Mudder.  I've been sleeping through P90x lately, but I've been hitting the gym faithfully.  I did get my 5 mile run in last week.  6 is on tap this week.  I had a little panic attack today thinking I was running out of time.  That I might not be ready.  That I might not finish the race.  I confess I started coming up with excuses to get out of it.  I do have that trick knee that gave me trouble in the Half, and I have had two bouts of plantar faciaitis over the last several years...I could blame one of those two things.

But then I stopped myself.  I can't give up.  I can't quit.  Not this.  Not anymore.

I have exactly enough time to get ready.  To get ready enough. No one says I have to rock the Mudder.  I just have to survive.  That has always been the goal.

Buddha is still right...I shouldn't walk around everyday thinking I have time. And Brian Andreas is still right...I have enough time for the important things in my life.  The two aren't in conflict because if you live every day like it's your last day, you will make sure you spend it doing what you love with the people you love.

Everyone says "life's too short" or I guess the hipster updated version of that is "YOLO."  Either way, you never know how many tomorrows you have, so if you want something, if you want to change something, if you want to be better, or different, if you want to mend fences or find a lost love, if you want to get closer to your children, or to your parents, if you want to move to Central Park and paint pictures or move to Mexico and braid tourists' hair...just do it.  Because you don't know how many tomorrows you have.

It's time.

Day 25--12 miles in two months

No, I don't mean I have two months to run 12 miles.  Although as slow as I run and as hot as it is, it might just take me that long.  What I mean is in less than two months, I have to be able to run 12 miles.  In the same day.  In addition to making it through 25 obstacles.  The course is terrifying.  Is anyone else laughing out loud as they're reading this, because I'm laughing out loud as I write it.

I did two hours of spin on Saturday.  Got to my class early and rode until class started and then John.The.Spin.God extended class to 75 minutes, so it was a good workout.   Stayed in my grubby, smelly clothes because we were just running errands and sticking around home, and sometime after supper I decided I would take advantage of the folks visiting and head out for a run, something I usually can't do when my kiddo is home with me. 

Told myself I would knock out 5 miles because, as I tell all my reluctant runner friends, running is a mental exercise more than a physical.  Your body can do much more than you give it credit for and, I reasoned, I can do over 2 hours of leg-shredding spin without dying, so heading out for a 5 mile jog should be easy breezy.

And it was, for the first mile, it was.  I was trucking along, listening to my new tunes, feeling very much like a runner.  And then it started to get dark.  The streetlights came on.  The mosquitos started biting.  And my stupid brain filled with about 8 million reasons to quit, to turn around and go home.  I decided louder music would drown out the voices in my head, so I cranked up my iPod even louder, but that just made the voices start screaming, "YOUR LEGS ARE SORE...YOU ALREADY DID 2 HOURS OF SPIN!!"  "IT'S GETTING SCARY DARK OUT HERE...YOU ARE RISKING YOUR LIFE JUST TO RUN??"  "THESE BUGS ARE MAKING IT IMPOSSIBLE TO RUN.  DO YOU WANT TO GET WEST NILE??"  Ignore the voices, ignore the voices, sing louder, sing LOUDER. 

But the voices in my head were relentless, as the voices in your head sometimes are.  And I stopped.  As if I ran into a brick wall.  I turned around, and I jogged back home. 

It wasn't as if I didn't get a good extra workout in...I did.  So I'm not mad at myself and the crazy voices in my head for that.  I just can't believe I listened.  I thought I was tougher than that.  All objective evidence indicated I should have been able to do 5 miles that night.  I know based on personal experience that once you hit your stride and settle into a good pace, you can run and run and run and run Forrest Gump style.  (Not sure where that guy slept when he was running because he missed his Jenny...were we meant to believe he ran 24-7?) 

I learned a lot when I trained for the half marathon back in '09 that I didn't finish because I fell down and busted up my knee, and the most important one was that I could run as far as I believed I could run.  I figured out how to quiet the doubting, negative voices in my head, no matter how loud they screamed at me.  I found my zone, and I stayed in it until my run was done for the day. 

I'm not sure why I couldn't find it on Saturday. 

But I better find it soon.  October 6th is looming on the horizon.  And it won't matter how many one-armed push-ups I can do if I can't run 12 miles.

My next chance to go out and do 5 miles is this weekend.  If you see me running through the neighborhood, and I appear to be talking to myself, I'm not schizophrenic, at least not according to the clinical definition.  I will be telling the voices in my head that want me to wimp out and go home to shut up.  I might have to get downright nasty and pull out some cuss words to get them to really listen, so plug your children's ears if you're out on a family bike ride or after-dinner stroll.  But I'm not going to listen to them this weekend.

Because in less than two months, they're gonna have a whole lot more to yell about.  Fire.  Ice.  Electric Shock.  And if I don't learn to drown them out now, I'll never get my orange headband.  So here's to quieting the voices and just getting it done.

 

Day 24--Karma: even if it takes 24 years, it'll get you.

I don't remember his name, only that he was kind of a quiet kid.  Nice enough, from what I remember, but because I truly believe I've had some sort of memory loss "event" causing me to lose a big chunk of my high school experiences, I don't remember much about the kid.  I just remember that he asked me for a hug one day, and I guess because I was a brat or whatever, I answered, "sorry, fresh out."

Yes, please judge 15 year-old me for that.  She definitely deserves it.  I mean, I can certainly see lots of times where denying a hug request would not only be acceptable, it would be the only option.  Someone covered in bees.  Someone carrying a boa constrictor around his neck.  Someone with a bomb strapped to his chest.  Someone [insert scary or dangerous or even just sticky thing covering or attached to a person].  But, a relatively harmless chap who just needed a hug that day should really have gotten one. 

Don't worry; Karma got me back. 

Friday was a tough day for a few reasons, and I was at Stress Level Midnight.  (Any Michael Scott fans out there--Threat Level Midnight?)  And it wasn't anything I couldn't handle, but it was one of those times when I really missed knowing that someone would be waiting for me at home.  I wasn't missing my ExBf in particular; I was just missing having that other person who would be there to give you a great big hug and tell you everything is going to be alright.

On a really tough day when all I really wanted was a hug, and I didn't have anyone to give me one. 

Karma said, "Sorry, fresh out."  And laughed at how long it took for that one to come back around but very happy the card finally got played.

But the cool thing about Karma is that it apparently holds no long-term grudges.  Meaning that it got me back for the "fresh-out of hugs" mistake of my youth, and then moved on and let me have an amazing happy hour (that last for 6 hours) with great friends.  I had to spin for 2 hours to try and burn off the 6-hour happy hour but it was worth it. 

Now what I'm worried about in the Karma department is the Mudder:  I can't help but laugh when people fall down, slip, trip, stumble, faceplant.  I'm naturally clumsy (or maybe that's Karma's constant influence, getting me back for laughing at others shamelessly), so it doesn't take much for me to trip and fall.  In fact (very embarrassing story alert), I fell down in the shower just Friday.

That was actually the start of the "no hug--Stress Level Midnight" day.  Karma?  Hmmmm...

Yes, my very thorough housekeeper had left my shower very clean, and very, very slippery, and because I started running the water to get it nice and warm, the water and the cleaning stuff mixed to create a surface about as slick as the substance Clark Griswold used on the bottom of his sled in A Christmas Vacation, and I stepped in, and my foot went vertical as I went horizontal, trying to brace myself on the way down but only managing to scratch my arms all to heck.  No permanent damage, and I actually laughed at myself.

Anyway, here comes the Mudder with 25 obstacles, including fire and shocky-thingies and tunnels and mud and ice and on and on...I will wager that I fall down at least 25 times.  And Karma will be laughing each time.

Speaking of showers, I need one because I did another 2 hours of spin today, so I'm off to take one.  It's safe in there now...all the slip-inducing slickness is gone.  So no need to worry.

P90x in the a.m., followed by another shower.  Increasing my chances that Karma might be in a funny mood and take it out on me again.  Maybe I'll invest in some of those grippy little goldfish that kids and old people use in their showers just in case.

Day 23--My ex, my exbf, and I all walk into a bar...

...or a high school chemistry class.

It was 1989, and instead of our normal chem teacher, our beloved Doc, in walks my ExBf to teach us about elements and stuff.  Modern day though, not the high school version of him.  He was subbing for Doc because Doc was at the Olympics.  And I wasn't sitting down yet...I'd been up chatting with someone about something, and when he walked in, I froze where I was, not really processing what was happening.  I was also modern-day me but for some reason stuck in high school chemistry. Probably because I never really understood it the first go-round. 

The ExBf/chem teacher gave me a look.  Not the sweet kind I was used to getting, but a "get your butt in your seat before I act all teachery on you" kind.  So I sat down.  And leaned over to ask the guy sitting next to me why my ExBf was our sub.

But the guy sitting next to me was my Ex.  And he was making notes on a menu from Maggiano's and told me it was time to go to the football team's fundraiser dinner.  (????)  So we left class before it even started, and hopped on Vespas (????) to drive to the fieldhouse for the fundraiser.

The ExBf was also there...I guess the football team fundraiser ranked higher than teaching HS chemistry that day...and they got in line with the other football guys dressed in red and white uniforms to serve pasta.  I wandered around the lines, looking for a plate, and then I decided I couldn't eat the pasta anyway because I'm training and eating low carb.  (Go me!!  Sticking to my low carb eating plan even in my dream life!).  I found some lemons that I suppose were for the iced tea and started eating them, but then I remembered the story my 7th grade biology teacher told us about how she and her sisters always sucked on lemons to whiten their teeth...and ended up losing all their enamel.  So I spit out the lemons and went back to class. 

When I got there, I ran into my ExBf again.  I can tell you exactly what shirt he was wearing and the cologne he had on. And I told him about my dream that he was our chem teacher.  And we laughed, and then the bell rang.  And it rang again.  And again.  And again.  And again. 

And I woke up.  To my annoying alarm clock. 

Which, is why I didn't make it up for P90x this morning.  I was hanging out in a weird parallell dream world universe.  I've been a crazy, vivid dreamer all my life.  I swear sometimes I wake up so tired because I've lived a whole other life while I've been sleeping.

Speaking of weird parellell dream universes, today is 2 months and 1 week until Tough Mudder time.  I'm happy with where I am, all but running.  But I upped my cardio last week to 2 hours a day, and this past Saturday I did a 2.5 hour spin class.  I thought the instructors would go easy on us, a little bit at least, because they had us for 2.5 hours.  But nope, not at all.  They killed us.  But the cool thing was that I finished and even though my legs were a little tight, they weren't really sore.  I did come home and sleep for 2 hours after the ride, but I am encouraged that I made it through 2.5 hours of lower body torture this weekend with no real side effects. 

So because we're essentially two months out (don't want to train hard the week before the race), I'm going to up my training a little bit more.  P90x in the a.m., a spin class in the evening, and then after I get my kiddo to bed, an hour on the elliptical or treadmill (elliptical will probably always win my vote: I hate the treadmille).  So that's 3 hours of training just about every day.  I signed up for bootcamp at the gym, and I'll incorporate that in the last month before the race, and then, hopefully I won't die!!

Now, I'm off to find some theories about what my crazy dream means.  Other than the most obvious one: I'm crazy.  Show me a Tough Mudder who isn't though.  Signing up to voluntarily run through fire is probably the textbook definition of crazy.  And it's all relative.  I have nutty dreams and am excited about running through fire, and other people have to open and close the door 15 times to make sure it shuts.  It takes all kinds of crazy to make this world, or the parellell dream version of this world, go round.

Day 22--I'm changing my name to Janet. Or Jess. Or Joan.

I remember it like it was yesterday.  My regular 5:15 a.m. spin instructor was off, and she warned us we'd have a sub.  A boy.  I'd never taken a spin class taught like a boy.  I wasn't happy.  And then I saw him.  A happy bald guy who was playing pretty good warm up tunes.  Okay, maybe it would be okay.  Then class started.  And I almost didn't survive. 

If you haven't taken a spin class before, the bike has a little red knob that you turn to add tension.  The more tension, obviously, the harder it is to pedal.  In spin, though, you also have to stand up on the bike and pedal.  With a lot of tension, it feels like you're running through 8 feet of sand.

The instructor, who would forever after be called Jason.The.Spin.God, made us "bury" the tension (that means, add, and add, and add, and add....I think we turned the red knob 23 or 57 times) and stand up while he played that Kid Rock song, the one I can't pronounce, Bada-bing-bada-boom or something, and he turned it up LOUD.  So we were all up on our bikes, pushing through 8 feet of sand, with this crazy song on full blast.  The room was literally thumping with each beat. 

And then...

...the clock above our heads on the back row gave up and committed suicide.  It jumped right off the wall and smashed right in front of me. 

And Jason.The.Spin.God says, "It's not a party until we break something.  KEEP RIDING!!!!"

That's it, I was sold on this guy and on spin in general.  I figured out when he was teaching and came to every class I could, sometimes twice a day.  Until he left the gym.  :(

Never fear though, in comes Jeralan, a very happy, funny, silly, goofy, MMA-fighting, arms-as-big-as-trees spin.god.  I love his class.  It's always a blast, and being kind of a goofball myself, I have a great time spinning with him.

And then there's James.  James' spin class is like a dance party, and he's DJ Jazzy James.  His songs are these awesome mash-ups of a bunch of songs you already love to dance to, so the hour just flies by!

Finally, John, whose class I rode through twice in a row tonight.  He loves 80s rock like I do, and tonight he even played my favorite Glam rocker, Adam Lambert.  He also talks to us a lot, tells funny little ditties, and it's entertaining. 

All three of these guys' classes are hard; you definitely earn your keep in each one.  I love going to them all.  SpinGods, they all are.

So here you go...we had Jason, the original Spin God, and now Jeralan, James, and John. 

Hmmmm....it would appear that to become a SpinGoddess, like I hope to, I will need to first change my name to something that begins with the letter "J."

I like that show New Girl--Jess is kinda dorky like me.  That might work.  "Jess.The.Spin.Goddess."  Too Rhymey. 

Janet reminds me too much of Janet "Wardrobe Malfunction" Jackson or the dumpy roommate Janet from "Three's Company," so I think that one's out.

Jessica=Simpson.  No thanks.  Except she did date Tony Romo, and he was living with Jason Witten at the time, and I love Jason Witten, so maybe...but Jessica is the same as Jess, really, so no again.

Jenni is one of my BFF's names, so I can't be all SingleWhiteFemale Name-Stealer.

Well, I'll keep thinking of cool "J" names for my Spin.Goddess alter ego.  I have time. 

Now, I think I'll go sit in a tub of ice to recover from two hours on the bike seat in spin.  Ouch.  Plus, my legs currently don't work.  I might fall off this barstool I'm sitting on when I try to get down.

Wish me luck!!