Thursday, March 31, 2011

Maybe if I pray real hard and knit real fast, I can leave this purgatory.

Dave socks

More ESpresso, please.
Thank you kindly, anonymous commenter below. How sorry I am for my TYPO. You are really very helpful, Anonymous. EEJIT. Google it.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

I fell off the wagon and broke my pancreas

"For one person in every ten, sugar is a deadly food, paving the way toward a hundred distressing physical symptoms, plus all the tortures of neurotic and even psychotic behavior. For that person a little sugar is akin to a little carbolic acid."
- Carlton Federicks, Ph.D., author of New Low Blood Sugar And You

Seriously. I can stop any time I want. it was just one small piece of pie. And a bit of ice cream. And the Clif gels I ate during my run.


So, Sunday, we had a very hectic day at Chez B. Nothing different about that, but I expended more energy on running, chores, grocery shopping, bills, budgeting, faith activities, dog minding and loads of housecleaning than I think should be expended on a Sunday.

By bedtime, I felt pretty desperate to squeeze some enjoyment out of the day, so I had a slice of the pie that I'd brought home for Mr. Chez B, and some ice cream on top of it, because apparently, I didn't believe that the pie was going to be enough of a system-shocker on it's own. I've been as sugar free as possible since January, and though I've had dessert a couple of times, I hadn't had many other added sweeteners or sugars, and very little alcohol. It was like a toxin combined with my stress level and fatigue.

That Sunday night was hell. I felt indescribably bizarre, got no sleep, and felt like I had some kind of blood-borne hangover the entire next day.

Time to re-affirm my sugar-free commitment. A huge thanks to David Gillespie for helping light the way.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Coming Up to SLIM 10K Day!

The 2011 SLIM 10K

I ran this last year (had a pretty good time), and there was no water left at the water stops and very few direction markers, so lets hope things are better put together this year. Lost, parched racers are bad news.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Nearly there

Sure it's all fun and games until the aul' lady falls apart.

My long training run the other day left me sore, discouraged, and feeling like a complete eejit.

7:3o AM

Mile one, it was the lungs. Don't smoke, kids, it's bad for you, and you never know when you might want those vital organs to function properly.

By mile 2, I was noticing that hopping out of the car and beginning the run right away (because yes, I was late to meet the training group) didn't really work as well for me as 15 minutes of warm-up and active stretching. I remained optimistic, though, and didn't let those pesky negative voices defeat me.

8:30 AM

At some point, I cheerfully noticed that the runner who, up until that time, had always been the last, had passed me, and I was running a steady pace a few hundred yards behind her. "Good for her! Way to go!" I thought.

Mile 6 and 7, my hamstrings were screaming for mercy.
The runner who had always been the last was now a black spec in the distance.

Mile 8 was just muscle memory. My blood sugar level was drooping, I was fatigued, and I wished I had remembered headphones (they're discouraged during the training runs, but when you're that far behind everyone else, it doesn't really matter), cause I was pretty sure that I could finish by nightfall if only I had some music to distract me.

I still don't get how I can go so slowly and till be "running", but I manage.

It was then that my silent Buddhist mantra was replaced with "near-ly there..." in cadence with my incredibly slow footfall. The scenery was becoming familiar again – I would make it back to the car somehow. Even if it felt like my right shin had shattered. Yes, definitely shattered.

By mile 8.95428 I must have been weeping. That can be the only explanation for the couple who passed me and looked back at me in alarm. What's so unusual about a middle-aged woman running in slow-mo begging to be airlifted to the parking lot? "Near-ly there..."

No real damage done to the old carcass, but a real wake-up call. 9 miles in 2 hours. Ouch! I had better be ready to be on my feet running for three hours (Yes! Pathetic, I know) for the half marathon. This Super-Slow Granny has some work to do.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Big feet, big socks

In a race against time, I endeavor to finish these


for the husband in time for his birthday in a couple of weeks. Trickier than one would think given the general hub-bub of the everyday.

Monday, March 7, 2011


The only thing the iPhone doesn't seem to be able to do is laundry. I'm in love.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Friday, March 4, 2011

No Distress

I'm so grateful for the therapeutic properties of color and texture.

The more madness crows the few empty spaces of my life, the more I need the rhythmic, soothing muscle memory of knitting. Creative and practical.

DH and I are running out of wearable socks. We've used them up, loved them, worn them to the bitter end. So begins the ascent.

I've been listening to audio books and knitting on my commute to and from work (when I can get a seat), and it feels like cheating; no studying, no planning for the upcoming day, no worrying about what needs to be crossed off of the list.

Truthfully, those are the only moments of my day when I feel like I'm in charge of my time. It's been brilliant.

Spring Fallberry Socks
Above are the Fallberry Mitts by Anne Hanson. I think they'll make awesome socks.