tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26190918007632180882024-03-19T06:09:14.115-07:00running Diatribeanother running blog turned injurious.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-4616944357968198892014-02-02T21:49:00.002-08:002014-02-02T22:06:17.449-08:00Uwharrie Mountain Run 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUxTXSwqCu9QyRVmNNbCG676A3FdGzDXbMe7443iWp8XGlX2pQzVGItLWjnJmvzIm7BTqszh2dx2WDFXj7Dz5f0w21NSHqKYCNBmXQ17oOkzBYZJajSEDzuFweJt7eDaY_MPsSVziXQTI/s1600/P1020688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUxTXSwqCu9QyRVmNNbCG676A3FdGzDXbMe7443iWp8XGlX2pQzVGItLWjnJmvzIm7BTqszh2dx2WDFXj7Dz5f0w21NSHqKYCNBmXQ17oOkzBYZJajSEDzuFweJt7eDaY_MPsSVziXQTI/s1600/P1020688.JPG" height="243" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Maybe my best race ever. Certainly in contention for the slowest. Two weeks ago, I resolved to skip Uwharrie all together. Even though I love it, running hurts me. Repetitively. My body is better rounded (or at least my stomach is) without it. I don't need it anymore. A few weeks ago, I found a lost gym rat on Sycamore trail, in Umstead, who is happy to swim, lift, head stand, or spin with me. Shout out, Evan. So trail running is obsolete. I go to a gym now. They have a sauna! And few snakes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My compulsive cantankerousness foiled a cold turkey quit. I'm still running the 4.6 mile Sycamore loop from the horse lot once a week. Sometimes, slightly more, when my mostly tame but decade younger pet gym rat pushes me. But 6 Umstead miles translate to about 400 feet in Uwharrie's rock garden. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">All was well until <a href="http://derscott.blogspot.com/2014/02/blood-and-whisky-uwharrie-mountain-run.html?spref=fb" target="_blank">Scott Lynch</a> my personal instigator-n-chief, invited me to a test run on Company Mill a week out from the Uwharrie Mutilation Run. We squeezed in the loop and brought one another up to speed on our ailments and broken parts. We started serious smack talking near the end. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">"My PT guy said I could take the tennis balls off of my walker." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">"With Aleve, I only have to take 2 pills all day."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">"My foot is barely numb."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The goading quickly escalated into delusions of grandeur. If two guys limping to a finish with a combined age of octogenarian, fit your definition of grandeur. It was enough for us. We pinkie swore and decided to car pool toward a glorious resurrection. Or to finish.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The 8 mile option starts last. </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">After running the 20 mile option for the last two years, it was a real treat to sleep in the morning of the race. I idly rose at 4:30 AM and headed out for the goad. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Best no pressure race of ever. No stomach issues, no nervousness, slept like a drunk baby. After checking our email and playing a few rounds of Candy Crush, we decided on an entirely new and untested route to the race. A route 20 miles further than the back road options. (All I40 until the last possible minute rocks from Raleigh, if your in the market for a new Uwharrie passage.) We stopped at an untested McD's for our traditional coffee and apple pie. We were living on the edge. I think I saw Scott mainlining gluten. No rules, I entertained running in this year's race shirt.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Scott insisted on chipping in for fuel and he's very trusting. I may have suggested that my Ford runs on grain alcohol. We had an impromptu vote and established</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Maker's Mark</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> as a fuel substitute and new tradition. To protect the race's teetotaller reputation, the timing was tricky. However, with a small amount of maths, a compass, a sextant, and a map we allowed that I could down my airplane bottle as we walked along the state highway, before entering the El Dorado outpost without breaking any rules. It was harder to justify the apple pie, which really should not be eaten by humans under any reasonable circumstances.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2muS_2YDsT1SNzUJ5nQ2fHUCOTA96RD6uZWR20T3J-CNfwUeZYJEaOziXitCwvliA4Cw6D5ewKWItvGcDglPoTai-QuN8yBqwTHezs4mDHZyW1BHJqCaRNIFlaQ_uL-76rfzHY_k6YYuz/s1600/P1020690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2muS_2YDsT1SNzUJ5nQ2fHUCOTA96RD6uZWR20T3J-CNfwUeZYJEaOziXitCwvliA4Cw6D5ewKWItvGcDglPoTai-QuN8yBqwTHezs4mDHZyW1BHJqCaRNIFlaQ_uL-76rfzHY_k6YYuz/s1600/P1020690.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Somehow, we arrived early enough to catch the very beginning of the 8 miler race packet release. I was pushing for White Owl blunts as a new tradition, but was vetoed. I took the extra time to suit up for the race. A Yancyville Goodwill shop provided this year's race uniform. I suited up in my "new" duds to ward off the chill of the first 2 miles. The bait shop guppies were frozen again (but not solid this time.) The criteria used when purchasing my race ensemble derives from a complicated equation involving weight, ambient air temperature, the rotation of the earth and general funkiness. Fit is immaterial to the function so my final silhouette is usually a bit of a surprise. This year the </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Yancyville fashion scene did not let me down.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> My green hoodie was simple and sophisticated, but the purple jeans were fantastic. Hold on, its about to get fancy in here. Purple, button flied, and skin tight straight legs. They squeezed my quads tighter than my recovery compression shorts. It looked like the 1980's puked Paula Abdul on my limbs. I cut the ankles with a utility knife so they could be safely pealed off in a circulation emergency. Dapper and protected from the 29 degree morning, we caught the bus to the start.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">We had about thirty minutes to share the fire with the rest of the race rabble. And five minutes of glorious flame all to ourselves as everybody responded to Kim's call to the line. As she counted down to the start, we hit the plastic loos. The race was off before either of us had exited. I was held up appreciating the pleasant pine scent of the liquid soap. I think Scott was admiring the hand towels. We came to an empty line. A lone smoking cigarette lay half burning in the road. (No kidding, I am dying to know where that came from.) A tumbleweed blew through and a crow called. The public encouraged us to get on with it and off we went. It was surreal, I have had dreams about oversleeping that start similarly. We kept it easy and ran to the that monster climb of the first mile. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Still no panic, no urgency even. Course knowledge helps. The first year I ran the 20 I was naively hoping for a sub 10 min average. That first climb is so steep and switch backed, and skinny that it guarantees a bottleneck. You will walk that hill, or you will run it in the first 10 positions. My inaugural mile that year was 17:50 and I tried to make it up over the next five. It ended disastrously and funny. This year, with time outs for bathroom stops and cigarette breaks, we caught the back of the pack about five minutes in. From dead last we reached mile one at 18:58. And fully rested. It was probably my best start ever. I still had enough wind to sing most of the Britney Spears catalogue. Collectively, our gnarled cartilage appreciated the easy start and began loosening a bit.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1dXOLpAY6X5t7vnUU8WyjA8MvbMRMjQC2vvTiwBNSjEmoFt78fFKM6jnzoW6rpCX5ZRUl_8pNsEIXY6zRIe_-BbqTci1Y6IG-Ec0aJS7tqnXYSQ3bGdTQfnWbLUJ6w2Gi_HJTGk97Qno/s1600/P1020698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1dXOLpAY6X5t7vnUU8WyjA8MvbMRMjQC2vvTiwBNSjEmoFt78fFKM6jnzoW6rpCX5ZRUl_8pNsEIXY6zRIe_-BbqTci1Y6IG-Ec0aJS7tqnXYSQ3bGdTQfnWbLUJ6w2Gi_HJTGk97Qno/s1600/P1020698.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">At mile 2, I dropped my skin tight rocking 80s cold weather gear. Scott thought they were possibly the most obscene trappings on the course. Challenge accepted! I once made a drunken oath to </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">complete my next marathon in speedos. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(I think it was Susan Yuh Gregory and Jay Spadie, but who knows it was a drunken oath. It could have been to the Vikings for all I know. They like beer too. And oaths.) At my present recovery rate, I may not fit into my speedos by the time I can complete another full marathon. And I am almost 40. Should somebody almost 40 really be buying a new pair of speedos? Its time for trunks man. Seriously. Why not Uwharrie? Besides how often do you start a race with whiskey? And whiskey commonly makes idiotic decisions legendary. And I had half a stick of Body Glide left. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Miles 2-5 breezed by and I don't think it was the Maker's Mark. The camaraderie of Scott's company, the low stress of a just finishing goal, and the promising allure of another piece of local pottery combined just enough risk with just enough achievement. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">And the still way too cold for European swimwear kept my pace up to ward off frostbite. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My body's memory had suffered enough Uwharrie </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">to begin preparing for the long haul of a 20. (Scott's last finish was the 40). 8 passed like a sprint. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicn0esbLDlfqnK3ReuUZEQtvGUqDFpBTwtKqUJcFd9s_w1Q6oWRqy9zFnWSpQ-K7_BabvjUwdDaN2TWaoSWYKj9DPbT3E7uJyDvAstzjyiHhNdGE2pjWU_JC0Ana8jsiG-UXj_z2I-tAqz/s1600/P1020707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicn0esbLDlfqnK3ReuUZEQtvGUqDFpBTwtKqUJcFd9s_w1Q6oWRqy9zFnWSpQ-K7_BabvjUwdDaN2TWaoSWYKj9DPbT3E7uJyDvAstzjyiHhNdGE2pjWU_JC0Ana8jsiG-UXj_z2I-tAqz/s1600/P1020707.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Mile 5 introduces the first and only major aid station for the 8. I've always breezed through maybe stopping long enough for a water bottle refill and a blood sugar check. Five still seams too early to stop in the 20 and your usually still full of enthusiasm and confidence. Not today. Scott and I purchased the full buffet. We requested a table with a nice view of the forest, but not too close to the kitchen. I ordered the pb&j, banana, cup of trail mix, salted boiled potato (does anything come close to that good on a trail run? maybe the soup), two mountain dews, potato chips, and a cookie. I have no idea what Scott had, I was too busy eating. We spent a good 5 minutes goofing off with the, as always, awesome volunteers. They eventually asked us to leave as we were eating all of their food and my lack of pants disturbed some of the more sensitive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Hyped up on Mountain Dew and corn syrup, I left the aid station in really high spirits. We ran off trail to take pics of the still iced stream and waterfall and Scott took the first injury of the day in the rock pile. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Madman that he is, he had openly mused that Uwharrie was not really as unrunnable as he had remembered.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> And now he was bleeding. Around 6, my tendons were about done and the complaint section of my brain was starting to light up. And I discovered that speedo square legs have about a 5.5 mile trail run limit, even with half a stick of Body Glide. We kept a nice even pace through these end miles. Scott paces very evenly and was too squeamish to run behind me after I donned the pink nightmare. His steady climbs helped me keep my composure at the point in a race where I usually start bombing the downhills and dying on the ups. I picked up the pace on the last mile and pushed it. We were finally, slowly gaining on people. My GPS splits recorded funny, but the last mile was sub 11:00 and the last .15 miles were 7:10 pace. I passed somebody just before the finish chute. I think the same carefree race approach would work really well on the 20. This was a great lesson in not taking yourself or the race so seriously. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">And there is new pottery in my room! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Uwharrie has the best finisher awards in NC. I almost have a complete breakfast set now. Cereal bowl, milk cup, and now a butter holder. Thank you Jason and Kim (Bull City Running) for another beautiful event. The race swag rocks too. My favorite race shirts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Scott wanted to double back and check out the 40 milers and I wish we had, as I see the facebook reports and pics start to publish. I see a lot of familiar names on that list. It looks like everybody rocked it. I miss you tendon superpeople. I hope to see you by the end of the year as this rebuilding phase has to be about over. I really miss you all. But I missed the delicious beer, sweet potato fries, and local beef hamburger at Carolina Ale house on the way back even more. These treats are only compatable with T1 diabetes on race days. Your all God's beautiful unique flowers, but your no home brew and medium rare with all the trimmings. Recover well. I will see you next year (at the Ale house).</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slightly blurry after Maker's Mark.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Button fly and BETA VCRs. Man I miss my pager.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Compression Jeans.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SDBC your move.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes Josh. Fanny Packs are ridiculous.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trail love.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finish.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeThirtyfive</span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-1624637801920271332013-10-13T09:18:00.000-07:002014-01-04T20:32:30.742-08:00Cross Training and Date Lines<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XD8aARJisremhvpdJ9ZyWDU3fjvkz403VvGk_wrqKz1yZiLcQgTX_4bU64afTF498dJan07OIzXGBSGs5JTNTpwpdsg3j-vciRSvWFJ39V5Rn3Vgr74AZ64MQzFlDyvj4dRdOoc8ia7_/s1600/P1020363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XD8aARJisremhvpdJ9ZyWDU3fjvkz403VvGk_wrqKz1yZiLcQgTX_4bU64afTF498dJan07OIzXGBSGs5JTNTpwpdsg3j-vciRSvWFJ39V5Rn3Vgr74AZ64MQzFlDyvj4dRdOoc8ia7_/s400/P1020363.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A shadow of my former self.. Arizona desert in the AM.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">So I find myself at that age where you never bounce all the way back. You just do your best with 85% and a Walgreen's Rewards frequent shopper card. You can get pretty far, with lowered expectations and a basket full of Tiger Balm, Moleskin, and Halloween candy. I gimped through the summer and finally decided I had rested enough. Returning to arch support, I find myself able to run. While barefoot walking and even standing left me crippled for days, a 2 lb, 28 mm heal-to-toe drop Saucony, propels me to speeds approaching 6.6 mph relatively pain free. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My arches are still week. My latest barefoot experiment, performing a motorcycle valve clearance, ended in a three day limp.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Suddenly, standing unshod on concrete for 5 hours is out of reach? </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">So maybe running Umstead marathon, months ago, under trained in minimal shoes caused a few lingering issues. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">But that's ok. I'm embracing the role of a minimal heretic. A barefoot backslider. A </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">perfidious Paleolithic. I love the idea of healthy strong feet. And getting kicked out of grocery stores without shoes on indulges both my freaky and rebellious streaks. But the quality of my clay appears wanting. And the theology isn't worth the sacrifice for me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Its back to high heals. Mizuono Waves, Asics Nimbus, Brooks Glycerine, Saucony Triumphs. The big ones that would challenge the most experienced exotic dancers. My closet is going to suffer. 20 pairs of minimals were evicted and three cobwebbed pairs of neutral plus moon boots emerged from under my bed for the first time in four years. <a href="http://www.barefootjosh.com/" target="_blank">Barefoot Josh</a> may issue a foot Fatwā, but I'm willing to risk it. I might need training wheels, but I'm finally running semi-regularly now. And a full 2 inches taller.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">This taller version of myself can participate in my favorite American tradition. The collection of little red squares on Garmin maps. I may not be the fastest person in the world, but I'm diligently working on my world footprint. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">im·pe·ri·al·ism</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">imˈpi(ə)rēəˌlizəm</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">noun</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">1.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">a policy of extending one's red squares and influence through running: or mostly running with limited walk breaks if the terrain is really difficult. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still limited to a single continent. Hawaii and New Zealand belong to Oceania.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaULu-YEi30npGupKVxtZK6sHtJvtTlw9ikbTilsYu_GlFBKe3XctmILNLf2TvKTM0_pgxMkXggP9XTgintluIDO9x-CZut8p3jttzmZWrRm4Tgm_5M_FBtUrChBjLjL5uYVviZzEina2d/s1600/nzmap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaULu-YEi30npGupKVxtZK6sHtJvtTlw9ikbTilsYu_GlFBKe3XctmILNLf2TvKTM0_pgxMkXggP9XTgintluIDO9x-CZut8p3jttzmZWrRm4Tgm_5M_FBtUrChBjLjL5uYVviZzEina2d/s320/nzmap.jpg" width="320" /></a>To punish my wife for eating the last of the Lucky Charms, I took her on a three week touring trek of Arizona, the north island of New Zealand, Hawaii, and Las Vegas with only a backpack and a 27 lb carry-on. Cleverly disguised as a combination birthday and anniversary celebration, my secret campaign for tiny red square neocolonialism launched just as my range slowly edged back toward 5 mile runs. My squares were getting crowded, it was finally time to break out of North America.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My rules of engagement are as important as they are arbitrary. To qualify for my map, Garmin recorded squares must:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">1. Be a minimum of two miles. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">2. Be run. (With the exception of pausing for a picture, or when safety dictates. Or to consume any food item discovered on said run. Or for amazing views. Or when a bear has the right of way). Pretty much run the whole time, except for times when not running.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">3. No HR monitors. Other than the camera and the blood sugar meter and the candy to treat low BS and the passport and/or travel documents and car rental keys and hotel keys; no distractions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I've marked my territory in some semi exotic places. And gathered gps data. I've run to a glacial summit in the Canadian Rockies, run it's American counterpart in Montana, the Strip in Vegas, across Bermuda, parts of Cuba, Texas, Florida (several at the Mouse's house), a few states on parts of the Appalachian trail, near a few Great Lakes, the Big Apple, and several exotic parts of Durham. I've missed a few. Tragically, my Iceland trip preceded my first Garmin 205 Forerunner purchase by a few weeks, and once I forgot my watch entirely on a work trip to Illinois. My coastal highway tour of Highway 1 and parts of Cali, and Oregon were all surgical boot and no GPS. With few exceptions, though, the Garmin is packed immediately behind my diabetic supplies. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Running a new city or trail exhilarates me. Its such a personal way to see a new place. The slightly dangerous parts are second only to the private views in permanently etching the experience into memory. I love running with a passport. I love being warned about high bear activity. Or snakes or criminals or police or whatever new thing could get you. I laugh a lot on these runs. Their tough too. The most beautiful places are all uphill and on uncertain terrain and a lot of them have flying criminal snakebear cops. I've had a few close calls. I ran out of water on my glacier run 4 miles away from the trail head and came back beyond dehydrated and more delirious than usual. (Why didn't I put some snow in my empty water bottle at the top?) I've found myself pretty lost occasionally. Hundreds of ankle rolls and many near misses in foreign traffic add to the excitement. Every near miss just enhance the waterfalls, mountain views, herds of wild horses, sailboats, eagles, and once, a naked sunbather. Vacation runs are the only runs I've found more fun than races.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">So, my AZNZHILV (Arizona New Zealand Hawaii Las Vegas) running recap and gps red square press into new red square territory:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEANnGe_cqzWoAGBu4o7Ub_U-oQ9rRmxCXp36Ufp5KjzPFnjafo1_yk_oTIF0zaT8Vv_xrC6cir_FpBeTnK-dhrGQmiIUtbUxtznk7xDWteaD0Zx9T-KrRyTrIykZRJ00K6ZdO7LDzh6Kh/s1600/P1020372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEANnGe_cqzWoAGBu4o7Ub_U-oQ9rRmxCXp36Ufp5KjzPFnjafo1_yk_oTIF0zaT8Vv_xrC6cir_FpBeTnK-dhrGQmiIUtbUxtznk7xDWteaD0Zx9T-KrRyTrIykZRJ00K6ZdO7LDzh6Kh/s200/P1020372.JPG" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My company invited me to <a href="http://waldorfastoria3.hilton.com/en/hotels/arizona/the-boulders-a-waldorf-astoria-resort-PHXRSWA/index.html" target="_blank">The Boulders Resort</a> in Carefree, AZ. Carefree other than snakes, coyotes, 110 degree temperatures, and frighteningly high restaurant prices. The opportunity for this leg of the trip arose after I had already purchased and scheduled parts of our anniverbirthday. In spite of the logistics involved reworking the dates and fees for airline rescheduling, we decided to work it in. There really was not much choice. I had no red squares in AZ and I've always been a sucker for a good business meeting. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHOi6SA0krzTKF8UYsJuGwf0Yqc0mvT_SIyPfruxD39Rrpa5b_kC2smbnDbmCRqhpng637v8TNfjPSKQakDmqpmfqXuXDYW2OQvGBCoLK0S2ntMvDE5rSEHHW4YuJIB3IdCGbL_K3W15y0/s1600/P1020355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHOi6SA0krzTKF8UYsJuGwf0Yqc0mvT_SIyPfruxD39Rrpa5b_kC2smbnDbmCRqhpng637v8TNfjPSKQakDmqpmfqXuXDYW2OQvGBCoLK0S2ntMvDE5rSEHHW4YuJIB3IdCGbL_K3W15y0/s320/P1020355.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The hotel facilities lavished the traveling cross trainer. Hands down, one of the best equipped gyms I've seen. I found it on our second day and used the free weights, row machine, and a self-spotting bench press that allowed me to finally safely max out on weight. The outdoor bug splat shaped pool had a single Olympic lane down the middle. You did have to multiply your laps by 1.15 to take into account swerving around the slightly inebriated obstacles that kept drifting into the lane. The skinnier, less visible, revelers caused me the most issue, as my goggles did not make the weight cut off for luggage and were left home. Overall a very successful cross training outing, with the exception of my new found awareness of what drunk, wet, lane drifting, hairy man feels like. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The two desert runs I squeezed in were just shy of amazing. Both were taken early in the morning in exhilarating low temperatures. The 4 miler, interrupted by a few pics and a bunny, was long enough to end pretty warm. I discovered a trail ending in a steep climb up several stacked boulders. The second run ended in an OJ Simpson speed chase as 9 hot air balloons drifted toward me. (only neunzig luftballoons shy of a pop song?) Best of all, no snakes. But I did find a skin, to add to the danger flavor. Overall, my first desert runs were beautiful. The colors and shadows were in constant flux, the cacti made it feel authentic, the odd shaped stacked boulders lent a whimsy to the landscape. I did leave with the feeling that desert runs 3 through infinity will likely feel pretty similar. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">New Zealand arrived three flights and a whole in the wall Vegas hotel layover later. The nastiest leg was a 9 hour 20 minute hop where I lost the last of my flight phobia to shear monotony. Though now, I am terrified of coach airplane seats and I strongly suspect a newly developed pretzel bag allergy. My recollection of this part is pretty hazy, due in part, to insomnia, Olde English 800, and a handy Clonazapan prescription for anxiety. In total I flew, bused, delirium tremored, and hobbled for 36 out of 48 hours. The end arrived only after bending several laws of the space time continuum. At some point I crossed the international date line and finally landed in NZ when Elvis was still a delivery truck driver and phones were tethered to a wall. I arrived at our hotel about 12:30 AM. I think it was 5:30 pm, Tuesday July 34th in Raleigh. I combed my teeth, brushed my tongue, and passed out for a period of several moon cycles. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">After emerging from a refreshing coma Penny and I toured the city of Auckland at an airplane seat crushed hip flexor tame 2.8 mph as we re-acclimated to the world of bipeds. We got a set of wheels in the form of the popular Nissan POS SE (I don't know what the SE stood for) the following day and began a whirlwind tour of the North island. Our second day awake delivered us to the Waitomo Glowworm Caves. I'll try to spare the travel details and focus on the running highlights. If you wish to know about glowworms or any part of any of my vacations, just ask. I will happily treat you to a 6 hour slide show with interpretive dance of the local customs. These caves were formed from water flow, and other than the glowworms were pretty much just caves. </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I found the area surrounding them to be magical. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The whole island is volcanic and the lush green it mothers could make Ireland jealous. The caves butt up to a hiking trail that weds farmland and a lush jungle environment. I convinced Penny that this might be the only trail in the country and left her in the car for a brief running exploration. (Relax she had a book, and I left the windows cracked.) I started running through Jurasic Park like trail for a mile and suddenly stumbled through a few lingering ferns into Kentucky (a more beautiful, less methamphetamine ridden Kentucky. Just focus on the green rolling hills.) One of the most beautiful runs of my life. Too amazing to spoil with bloginess. The pics follow. They can</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> speak for themselves. Or let the Hobbits try.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I managed a total of 4 NZ runs. The green blanket above, and two through cities, which though fun, were not overly remarkable or unique. The last trek was a safari of fun, overreach, exhilaration, and near disaster. On the waning days of our NZ leg I found a trail through the rain forest. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzQ7i-Qe3o-312O-3EbqjTfoyJ8dkF14qgtrj4zUbqqB4rsb9UjH8V47EuHCuNISFeWy_sW6PbT-XgiBHCitAhOBg0r45Gsjvqg-L4caeAETn3V4hkM5lhj6JIehkqrKWYB1DwXDqpN1Qs/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzQ7i-Qe3o-312O-3EbqjTfoyJ8dkF14qgtrj4zUbqqB4rsb9UjH8V47EuHCuNISFeWy_sW6PbT-XgiBHCitAhOBg0r45Gsjvqg-L4caeAETn3V4hkM5lhj6JIehkqrKWYB1DwXDqpN1Qs/s320/photo+(1).JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The Bay of Islands on the northeastern side of the island are in a tropical zone that border the coast. Our hotel, the <a href="http://www.millenniumhotels.co.nz/copthornebayofislands/?s_kwcid=TC|18500|copthorne%20bay%20of%20islands||S|e|16238658882" target="_blank">Copthorne</a>, resided adjacent to the Waitangi Treaty Grounds. The Reservation of the Polynesian decedents include some jungle trails. I found one at 7:15 PM and assumed I had about an hour until twilight faded into night. On an island without snakes, what could really go wrong? The rain forest trail ranked as nearly magical. The earth was teaming with life. It felt primordial. I quickly lost myself in the soft dirt and green fauna. Even the trees seamed sentient. A dazzling sunset, a waterfall, and a huge jungle chicken combined in awing and overwhelming my better sense of time. Sometime later, I regained my awareness and turned back in the faltering light. My Garmin battery failed when I was just under 2 miles out from trail head. Playing jungle scientist, I discovered the effect of diffuse light on subcanopy trails. My thesis: it gets damn dark fast! It went from funny to serious pretty quickly, but I had my headlamp and I reigned in the pace to account for roots, poisonous frogs, super occult chickens, and cannibal snares. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggRb-Kz59FQqOz8jLdWwFoc5McfXln9UjJrDD8hIO2wTgzjD4eCREgbdaKB6FBDFYF8JgJwv4U9sWVc9l2nrYqPXwqk9Fz9sFqViAJ30wlPhyphenhyphenL8RkME4L-UbDyUOmxMoyp0fEV5pK7kaCh/s1600/photo+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggRb-Kz59FQqOz8jLdWwFoc5McfXln9UjJrDD8hIO2wTgzjD4eCREgbdaKB6FBDFYF8JgJwv4U9sWVc9l2nrYqPXwqk9Fz9sFqViAJ30wlPhyphenhyphenL8RkME4L-UbDyUOmxMoyp0fEV5pK7kaCh/s320/photo+(2).JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfrAklhKf4q1SaFJwN1kVpNVefVLL6tcYej3YUMKdFmo12w_4GSA9zjZxAZKOFFLKHT5vSiGASwlk-HTmvIYGC7VT3B8sMrmftVhYDbbWWU9JhN39X_Gt03Lgs4_CmEbEo6qrHt9tK4kZL/s1600/photo+(3).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfrAklhKf4q1SaFJwN1kVpNVefVLL6tcYej3YUMKdFmo12w_4GSA9zjZxAZKOFFLKHT5vSiGASwlk-HTmvIYGC7VT3B8sMrmftVhYDbbWWU9JhN39X_Gt03Lgs4_CmEbEo6qrHt9tK4kZL/s320/photo+(3).JPG" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">A quick selfie pic by an ancient tree became exciting when something overhead started a growl-snarl-yelp-howl. I made a quick last minute will and testament on a close to full speed run. I am uncertain as to whether the legality of an iTouch video made in a foreign country at 10 mph would have held up in our court system. But upon further review, I do know that I successfully gave away my dignity in that video. I arrived at the trail head about 15 minutes after nightfall. Delighted, charged, piqued, anxious; alive. My last NZ run has become the standard for adventure to beat. Its going to be pretty hard to beat mystic yelping giant chicken jungle trail with night chase. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWoiHJIOz42LsfPC1GABi2bEC75Dq8nqV8M8YWopNUOUfyP9WNehe3KPRIbkt2gtey38vIbxgHmq506W78dFPTGX2uxTDiKK_Ia2SGlhDu5nvMJNlLUs95monY5i0onvcly8RH-z4VYKP/s1600/P1020563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWoiHJIOz42LsfPC1GABi2bEC75Dq8nqV8M8YWopNUOUfyP9WNehe3KPRIbkt2gtey38vIbxgHmq506W78dFPTGX2uxTDiKK_Ia2SGlhDu5nvMJNlLUs95monY5i0onvcly8RH-z4VYKP/s320/P1020563.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjSsMuraR-NhCXOrsnHc8xpkVdIsbSYzHqU10AXMpq5GjGpPv4PMIO-1T5oFv_rWCcSy6CR9HZ-Tr-vCgUq0vXG4dBAR4jA8D-KxAPNeTy1__puhQN8YLDWpyEmC8avgQgSNVrfa9whp3R/s1600/P1020547.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjSsMuraR-NhCXOrsnHc8xpkVdIsbSYzHqU10AXMpq5GjGpPv4PMIO-1T5oFv_rWCcSy6CR9HZ-Tr-vCgUq0vXG4dBAR4jA8D-KxAPNeTy1__puhQN8YLDWpyEmC8avgQgSNVrfa9whp3R/s320/P1020547.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Just 4369 easy air miles later. We were back in Hawaii. I managed 2 runs in 3 days. For one I conquered 90 flights of steps (6 up and downs in the hotel) for a very not very picturesque Hawaiian concrete landscape view, but it ended on top of the hotel roof for a pretty spectacular finish. And then I had a touch of <strike>inspiration</strike> insanity. I left my hotel early and ran to Diamond Head Crater. I arrived soon after it opened and before it filled with cameras, water bottles and general public. Public admission without a vehicle is only one dollar. The aerial view of Honolulu, stoking of ego, and the value of a taxi ride saved made the venture as profitable as it was scenic. When added to the miles already covered over the Auckland volcanic field, the emerging fiery volcano pattern reminded me of the Greek Phoenix mythology and my own recent running resurrection. Its been a long slow climb, but I think am starting to feel my wings flex again. Of course, that got me thinking about the University of Phoenix and then I thought about the time I waste on game apps. Could I have achieved a Master's in the amount of time I wasted on CandyCrush? Then I remembered where I was and tried the view again. Just under 6 miles and another beautiful vista enjoyed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The Las Vegas Strip provided the venue for the final leg of my three week running tour. I totaled 26.9 total run miles over some 25,000 total traveled miles. A record either in covered ground or my longest time for a marathon yet. I liked the way the numbers worked out. Another marathon still seams pretty far off into the future, but the upcoming Medoc 10 miler trail run seams doable. I am so much better rounded as an athlete (or at least an </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">amateur, approaching 40, with athletic tendencies)</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> than I was when I ran my best time at the Disney Goofy. My body certainly looks healthier. I lost that heroin chic, starving puppy body type that the 5 marathons per year were perfecting. Its of great interest to me what the results of a stronger more well proportioned me will produce when I finally get back to the marathon + distance. Look out front of the mid-pack of the masters age group!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rotorua Museum, NZ</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NZ coast on a morning run.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best reason to run.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Polynesian geothermal spa. Second only to beer for reasons to run.<br />Speedo drag suits, second only to thongs for indecency. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning run, ended in a traditional Burger King and this giant Kiwi.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Diamond Head stairs leading to the crater's peak.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few more stairs to the top.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honolulu selfie from the top of the crater.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Diamond head.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Staircase vistas.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hawaii from the top of the Shoreline Hotel Waikiki.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Serendipity, Las Vegas. The third best reason to run.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeThirtyfour</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-31795245060938318492013-09-13T07:57:00.000-07:002014-01-04T20:34:43.684-08:00A Slightly Incoherent Running Manifesto and Summer Recap<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Treadmill. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Parallel to my legion of fans and popular world view, I generally picture myself as a long running, hardcore, off road, ruggedly handsome, rich, Patrick Dempsey haired, slightly eccentric (in the rich tradition, not the homeless man in tin foil hat, holding a cup of cat milk tradition) adventurist with the balance and grace of a leopard and the common sense of Ben Franklin. Over these last summer months, long running was subtracted from that image. The other attributes remain mostly accurate. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I've switched back from minimal to arched footwear, iced, stretched, massaged, rolled, and slept under Feng shui'd magnetic crystals. I'm still unable to get over 6 miles without causing massive swelling to the 1st metatarsal on my non-surgery side. That quickly stresses the tendon and I get PF pain from the joint to the heel. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My whining always showed stronger than my running.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">After my T1 (yeah #1, USA USA) diagnosis, running became my vehicle to keep my insulin resistance low. Ridiculously low. I'm almost off the scale. Less resistance, less insulin injected. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">And God knows how much baby powder and horse laxative the chef's at Norvo Nordisk add to their proprietary rapid insulin recipe. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Restricting the medical jargon to a minimum: Whether generated by your body or big Pharma, insulin is a hormone with inflammation</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> properties. Inflammation makes heart attacks. Heart attacks suck. Its also the vehicle that delivers honey bun to your midriff.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Mmmm honey bun. Insulin is similar to </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Glenfiddich consumption. A small amount is essential to life, but too much and you'll wish you were throwing up over the backyard deck. So easy on that mixing bowl of twice baked potato bagels and the bottomless trough of fried dough. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The most important thing Wilford Brimley taught us, after Quaker Oats are awesome and its inadvisable to practice law in TN, is that Liberty will conveniently ship all the diabetic supplies you could desire right to your front door. Good news really, my pharmacy is almost 0.6 miles away. I don't recall him mentioning the often better than medicinal results of exercise and diet. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">As a carbon based life form I love carbohydrates, as a human I love to overindulge. So its a struggle to strive for carb consumption below 100g per day. When inactive, each gram raises my blood sugar about 4.5 points, peaking around 95 minutes after eating. I'm nervous when my BS gets over 140. (Blood sugar not Bulls%$t. My bulls%$t integer is way over 140). These targets translate into a Subway salad (11 grams) consumption rate that would make Jared blanch. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The thing is I like grapes, pineapples, pizza, Chinese, Mexican, Italian food, Lucky Charms and donuts more than a registered sex offender like's a white cargo sized van full of candy. Bad example, I would appreciate a van full of candy. Any of these foods spike me into unacceptable BS levels, unless I'm working out. When the body exercises all those muscles suck up (more technical medical jargon) any available glucose from the blood stream. You get really insulin sensitive when taxing the body. So much so, that a healthy anatomy cuts its insulin production nearly in half to compensate. Its harder for me to cut injected insulin, so I eat my way to balance. I'm usually the only one at the food tables before a race starts. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I know, a lot of words, but I wanted to outline my motivation. I have found running to be the most effective form of exercise for BS control. Following a marathon, I can eat nearly anything without consequence for almost three days. Directly following my new career as a full time insulin injector, I became reliant on my mileage as my primary diabetic control mechanism. A great tool, but when your only tool is a hammer you eventually f&$# up your thumb. This blog has churned out more injury than races. At the start of this summer, my hamstrings and calves were so tight, from repetitive stress issues, I couldn't touch my ankles. Toes were out of the question.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Limited to infrequent 5 milers for the entire summer, I was forced to find alternatives to replace my usual 100-150 miles per month. My cereal addiction depended on it. I went kicking and screaming. For me, running trails is fun, biking more of a corporeal punishment. But, I found that a summer spent cross training provided some unanticipated benefits. Flexibility improvements and a more balanced physique brought me new insight. I'm not measuring my body in minute miles anymore. Fitness consists of a balance of stamina, strength, and flexibility now. And while my ability to churn out endless 9 minute miles (never near an age group winner anyway) has slightly diminished, I can easily turn lights on and off with my feet now, freeing up both hands to carry extra stuff. Boasting a 33 percent increase in strength, I am almost as buff as Roger Rabbit. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The point of all this, if any, is that running became too key a component in my life. I ran through injury. I ran at really dumb times (the summer at lunch time, then back into khakis for work comes to mind.) I started rubbing my hands together and cackling over garmin charts. (Although in this community that behavior qualifies as mostly normal). In my experience, most runners are at peak health 50% of the time and gimpy 60%. It mirrors an addicts behavior.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">God, grant me the serenity to accept the rest days I cannot change,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">So this entry is a brief overview of my summer cross training. My running methadone. I'm starting to slowly mix running back in now. I signed up for Medoc's 10 mile option. I may never get the full mileage back, but I'm not losing sleep over it anymore. Every time you run out the door may be your last run. Its still my first physical love, but its not the only one anymore. When it comes to exercise, I get around.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I made Group On my first stop. I sampled everything with an elevated heart rate and measured it in beats per dollar saved. Hot yoga, curling, swim lessons, sausage grinding, whatever. Especially if it offered a few weeks access to facilities. My biggest score, <a href="http://www.trianglerockclub.com/" target="_blank">Triangle Rock Club</a>, mockingly located in Morrisville, became my favorite. Forty bucks knocked down to $20 with an online coupon, bought me a training indoctrination, free equipment rental and unlimited visits for two weeks. And they have a decent gym. Two weeks, for anybody without Popeye's forearms translates into about 4-5 visits. I had to have a little extra recovery time for muscles toned only carrying 20 ounces of Hammer Perpeteum at a time. In one nook, suspended from the ceiling, they have a small area with a long pipe that you can try to advance yourself on hand over hand. Super fun and my favorite part. I liked this place so much I considered paying the monthly $60 fee and making it my new physical cornerstone. But we've been down that road. Three months from now it would be a blog about forearm surgery.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I took my limp to its logical fashion conclusion and tried pirating for awhile. From SC I repossessed one of the kayaks given to my family as a Christmas present a few years back. She satisfied my exacting criteria, the red schooner fit into my company truck with an extra inch on the windshield and rear hatch sides and my family had tired of moving around her to gain access to their shed. Lake Crabtree is merely 14 minutes from my house and the easiest access point to water larger than my bathtub available. Cardio without leg involvement gives the kayak high marks and I found it pretty fun. Though, I outgrew Crabtree rather quickly. Hugging the shoreline, the entire circumference is slightly less than 5 miles. I found myself circling a time and a half to twice to complete a good 2 hour paddle. I rechristened the pond lake treadmill. With highways on both sides and bordering a walking trail, your never really away from it all. Eventually, boredom overcame good sense and I ventured into the two restricted channels. Past and under the mysterious highway overpass, I found only shallow still water and an ornery turtle. I'll keep the vessel in my x training repertoire, but a new water discovery is essential for next year even if it requires further portage. Extra gold stars for exercise with the best suntan. Frowny faces for every time I had to check under the seat and the bow for spiders or snakes. (I store the boat in the crawl space under the house.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The Morrisville <a href="http://www.ci.morrisville.nc.us/index.aspx?NID=652" target="_blank">Aquatic Center</a> performed swimmingly as a key element in running replacement therapy. In compiling this, it appears that most cross training leads in someway through Morrisville. Reasonably priced at $6 per day for a "non-resident" like myself. (I guess that's better than illegal wader.) The pool is uncovered in the summer and boasts a blow up dome over the fall and winter months. Like the Silverdome, only 200 times smaller. The facilities are fair. Aged but well cared for, they match me well. The pool is only 25 yards. Yes, that is correct, 70.5 laps to the mile. And I am only really proficient in the sloth quick breast stroke. Thank you small town Indiana high school. It became my habit to swim a mile or slightly over, (9 laps breast every tenth lap freestyle,) then hit the onsite weight room. Great low intensity HR zone 1 and 2 workout. The weight equipment fulfills all of my needs (i.e. its mostly very heavy). Good cardio equipment, although I tended to avoid it on non-legs day. They also have included classes. Pilates, Yoga, Spin. I think I even saw a karate class. Could have been just a random guy in a kimono. I'm still using the aquatic center months later and will probably keep it as an adequate, but extremely unsexy pillar of my training. I do my best to brighten the place up with my extensive speedo collection, but I'm only one middle aged person. I can only do so much.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Courtesy of the pay per view feature on <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Satan" target="_blank">Time Warner Cable</a>, I was introduced to yoga. I followed the yoga for runners 30 minute episode, until it was etched into my muscle memory. TWC has since replaced it with yoga for golfers. I'm convinced yoga for billiard players and finally yoga for puzzle enthusiasts will follow. Combined with some advanced stretching, this new discipline has brought the most balance to my exercise regimen. It effects blood sugar levels extraordinarily. A half an hour yoga session performs almost as well as a run. Big bonus on the lack of perspiration. Yoga barely qualifies as a glisten, where a heavy run literally leaves its mark in dry salt on my forehead. Your new flexibility rocks. Think about all the new sex moves you can attempt now. On the other hand, your masculinity factor is unlikely to pass the Susane Summers mark. Downward dog in running tights and a head band is really hard to pull off for the male sex. And don't even get me started on finding leg warmers in manly colors. You finally master the abilities to try the Kama Sutra's Wheelbarrow Handstand position, if only the woman in your life was not laughing so hard at you. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">All summer I averaged 30 running miles per month. A long way from my nearly 200 mile December two years ago. The climbing, kayaking, swimming, yoga, biking, ellipticaling, free weights and Quidditching were more than enough to replace the lost miles. Honestly, I feel a lot better. Its nice to be sore in new places. At my highest mileage, my legs would always twitch as I fell asleep. In retrospect that seams a bit unhealthy. I'm a long way from marathon capable presently, but my world didn't end. And I don't look like I so desperately need a meal in the next 30 seconds. My chest is almost 3 inches bigger (although still only an A cup), I can bench 225 (two 45 lbs on both sides which looks really cool), I can carry two suitcases through most airports, I can swim 1/110 of the way to Cuba and if I drop a quarter I can pick it up without bending my knees. The foot is still jacked up, but I'm pushing it gently. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Medoc is just around the corner. I haven't been over 4 miles in months. On paper, I can make it if I add 1 mile per week. I think I'm going to try it. If I can't make it, maybe I can wrestle Medoc instead. If its too far to run, I'll walk. If its too far to walk, I'll sit. I've added to my mantra. I used to tell myself, "Push the envelope." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Now I tell myself, "Push the envelope. Don't be stupid." Its a big world, if your injured (and most of us are or will be), go find a good Group On. Now excuse me, its time to get my mileage up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeThirtythree</span>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-43759136364077745612013-06-08T11:27:00.000-07:002013-11-11T21:34:47.436-08:00Whitetails 5k run<br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">How does the adage go? Desperate times call for desperately stupid measures. I have not reclaimed balanced running since my Umstead marathon debacle. The plantar fasciitis twinges on my surgery side leg responded well to immediate rest and icing. Two weeks out of running shoes satisfactorily banished the arch pain. Then with abecedarian irony, I injured my 1st metatarsal on the opposite foot in a crash landing while bailing out of a handstand. I was trying to cross train! Maybe a nice stationary bike would have been a more age appropriate response?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I like a lot of things about distance running, especially trail running. The mountain vistas, a chance meeting of a doe and her fawns, the subtle hues of sunrise, the shocking temperature drop running by water at night, the alone time in your own head, endorphin highs, a connection to the very earth your treading. But most of all I love the oddity of trail runners. I rank their freakishness factor just ahead of an Athens Halloween block party and just behind a Kansas City S&M party. So maybe its not the peaceful miles of only regulated breathing, uninterrupted by cellphones, FB notifications or McDonald's commercials. Maybe its the tutus, tattoos, home brews, sardines and pickles. And I would confidently wager a medium sized ultra boasts more cross dresser's than the Bay area on a Tuesday. I know there is some vanilla out there, but face it most of you are vaudeville strange.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Presently, I can just manage 3 miles. Over 4 miles guarantees limping for a week. But my aberration index is nearing a PR. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(X * aberrancy) + (Y * miles) = bliss.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">If the miles are down <strike>subtract</strike> no divide, then carry the 3, no wait there is no 3. Never mind, my math skills are declining in a linear relationship to my Garmin GPS use. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I decided to end my injury streak with a streak. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The Whitetails 5k run is my second nude run. I ran the same race two years ago, before I entered the blogosphere. Also it was a time in my life when I possessed too strong a sense of decorum, to publish such low brow adventures. My recent running decline has left me with less to blog. And the high quality of so many other running online journals have done a better job depicting their adventures than my vocabulary and writing salary allow me. Time to borrow a page from publishing giant Hugh Hefner. And those pages are in the buff. (Don't panic, just like Hef I am wearing a robe and smoking a pipe as I type.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Wow. Ok. So I had some words saved up in my works. Sorry for the Russian novel introduction. And PLEASE take this opportunity to click on an advertisement. I will make $00.0003 and I can't wait to see what advertisements Google pairs with this entry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The Whitetail 5k is held annually at the <a href="http://www.whitetailresort.org/" target="_blank">White Tail Resort</a> (A Family Nudist Community) in Ivor, VA. A resort established in 1984. A much free-er and breezier 1984 than George Orwell envisioned. Allowing for coffee, bathroom stops, and bouts of prudence, the 7 AM registration (just didn't feel like the kind of race you pre register for), required a 4 AM start from Durham. I have over 250 running social contacts from FB and various other running group publications. Surprisingly, I departed alone. Brief (get it? brief, while talking about a nudist colony) moment of honesty: I wanted a win. Really, how fast can aging hippies and the overly tan run?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Despite my GPS's constant insistence that I take smaller and narrower roads, t</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">he drive was no more nerve racking than my usual pilgrimage toward a trail race. I arrived right on time for registration, even a few minutes early. I gained a good half hour packing for this one. The final approach brought me to the main gates via a long gravel stretch that ended in an imposing wooden gate and fence, marked only with a modest sign. A small intercom speaker and button instructed visitors to ring. I rang and spoke one of the stranger sentences of my adult life, "Is this the place for the naked race?" Reminiscent of the scene in King Kong, the gates opened inward. I hoped for an experience better than Fay Wray's.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I was directed to park and head to the main office to fill out some paperwork and provide ID. Not required for most firearm purchases, but apparently birthday suits are not constitutionally protected in VA. The feeling that I had to deliver a speech for school, but forgot to wear pants dream deja vu started at about this point. I felt a bit awkward in cargos and old race shirt amongst the very naked colonists. It felt like a library (with a small gift shop)/information booth, but the nice lady at the computer, the man taking a photo copy of my driver's licence and the couple browsing sunblock had not a pocket between them. They finished checking me in and directed me toward registration at the outdoor pavilion.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">A lot more skin out here. Maybe 50 hides milling about. I stopped by the car and took my clothes off like a band aid. (Quick and with minimal hair loss). The approach to registration mirrored the usual, with the exception of a much longer line. Their were only 6 people in line, but the space between each of us was proportionately respectful to the awkwardness. My turn arrived quickly enough and I received my (ready for it), race T-shirt. No bibs. Not even a number to hide behind. I had been hoping for something like #8375093275. When you cross the finish, they record your time on a note card and you add your name and then drop it in your age group category bowl.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">If you find yourself clothed and outside on just too many days of the year, this race is part of a series. One of the middle calendar events hosted by <a href="http://www.pyog.com/nudist5k/" target="_blank">B.A.R.E. </a>(Butts A’runnin Race Enterprises). They put on a great race. More than adequate snacks, water, clear course markings (1 mile loop, repeated), and free grounds access for the rest of the day. The course starts near the office, runs through the semi-permanent community (trailers/mobiles), enters a wooded trail, then reenters the community. Many of the locals were out with great enthusiasm and cheering. Some provided additional water and treats. Maybe, the best crowd participation, outside of Disney Marathon's paid cheerleaders, I've ever seen. And of course, at Disney most characters wear pants.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The director lined us up by pace expectation. Much to my dismay, the aging hippy to average 5ker ratio was the opposite of my expectation. Nobody lined up for the 5 minute mile pace, but the 6 minute group was fair, and the 7 min coral was overflowing. I lined up with the 9's and hoped I was being humble. I targeted 7:45, but was secretly hoping for sub 7:30. My soft tissue may be in poor shape, but I've kept my cardio up on the elliptical, swimming, and bike. Its a flat course. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Line up was uneventful, but with a noticeable lack of pre-race stretching. No lunges with the goose pimpled crowd. The other dismaying ratio showed in the M to F count, roughly 117 to 1. OK not quite that bad, but I am confident that the female sex is, in general, more demure than Renoir suggested. Not great for ambiance, and even worse for my age group chances. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The start was a simple, "go". We went out FAST. I usually do, but the pace was a bit unprecedented, even for me. At heart, I am wound pretty tight. The free spirit stuff is always outside my comfort zone and I over think everything. I had practiced on the treadmill at home to make sure the mechanics were possible. (Room darkening shades: Your welcome neighbors.) I thought the practice would negate the nerves, but not so much. Running 6:37 per Garmin with the lead pack at the 1/3 mile mark was way outside of my abilities. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I settled down about the same time we entered the trail section. Pretty rooty through this 1/3 mile. It rained heavy the previous night and this part of the course was all mud. Finally, some cover, at least from the mid calf down. We exited the trails and back to bridle-type gravel road for the last 1/3 of the first mile. Everything turned automatic for me for the next mile. The nuts and bolts of extended streaking are surprisingly user friendly. Let's just say there is a rhythm to the workings. Honestly, thanks to Nike and modern fabrics my everyday running gear barely outweighs my au natural state. I was done with bashful and into racing mode after a half mile. On strictly journalistic intention, I did interview one of the more amply equipped female racers in the Jacuzzi after the race. Apparently their race equipment causes more of an issue. Sports bras were well represented. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The last 3/4 mile was rough. The too fast start and the adrenaline rush took their toll. I faded pretty hard and the front runners were nothing but a dust cloud ahead. I had nobody reachable in front, but my rear felt exposed. I had a tail in my wake from about a mile in and they were closing. Still holding out for an age group place, my shadow was undoubtedly a M 30-40 years old. I managed a kick for the last 150 yards and he finished just behind me. First throw up finish in 2 years! Thrilling to finish strong, but disappointing to discover that apparently, my stripped form makes me sick. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Definitely, threadbare training, but I did manage 3rd in my age group. And they did go 3 deep with the awards. Hoping for a medal, or better yet a sash of some sort, the award proved a poor cover. Third is a certificate for a free entry back to the nude commonwealth!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Just like every other race ever run, the after phase was mainly carbs, awards, and hanging out with every body else. Slightly different, I have never witnessed so much eye contact after an event. The after access to facilities made a nice bonus. The place is really well equipped; indoor pool, outdoor Olympic sized pool, Jacuzzis, tennis courts, showers, considerably sized outdoor chess set, fitness room (yikes!), and restaurant (Try the lobster served outside of its shell). Next time I will call ahead and schedule a massage session with the onsite masseur who books up early on weekends. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Its a good time and completely tame. Makes for a great story when your one upping somebody at a dinner party. The aerodynamics all but ensure a PR. Go try it out, but seriously don't wear the heart rate monitor. This is really the race to try without it. Don't get caught in the bum's rush, sign up today. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsBTM9bvNh2hNk7JtIgto_s3l2KuScgA2ll7VDkGd1t-smmF8EuPX1c_sayKq3E0GpKAJ69Yl6WQ1KkeuPXaj0gHGDFtgEnV6pvkRbGGRP9zWTs9qyzPhQN6iQxbRU8z5RtWIQVPY5vrAL/s1600/P1020255.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsBTM9bvNh2hNk7JtIgto_s3l2KuScgA2ll7VDkGd1t-smmF8EuPX1c_sayKq3E0GpKAJ69Yl6WQ1KkeuPXaj0gHGDFtgEnV6pvkRbGGRP9zWTs9qyzPhQN6iQxbRU8z5RtWIQVPY5vrAL/s320/P1020255.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My new favorite race shirt. Breathes well.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoJ_eKs1gts5z2frPqqFUgEF-OoTsZWoWfd3Up4I-XaRmQzCI7eBbBerHuAgGKM_zzae9sKUD40LzjTuwD9mXfqkDwXSpmKSArdIrP4Hjgp0cOYWTqv95qNBR7nHeYBl2ecSMq1BdNY_2z/s1600/Untitled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoJ_eKs1gts5z2frPqqFUgEF-OoTsZWoWfd3Up4I-XaRmQzCI7eBbBerHuAgGKM_zzae9sKUD40LzjTuwD9mXfqkDwXSpmKSArdIrP4Hjgp0cOYWTqv95qNBR7nHeYBl2ecSMq1BdNY_2z/s200/Untitled.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">OMG! No life guard on duty.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Really difficult to choose pics for this write up.<br />
For those of you easily nauseated, do not scroll<br />
down any farther. I'm talking to you Jim Wei.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjHpWLBINzGvr_vHtsmlAp9rm65bT8uQY_4iHHYhRgLNbJcuxK3jcFY2n06WrzZtOVdk0dcopv8fbhZ2t2ymD2Na2EpYF8Kl559lRrmseq7jd11lR6ksNv-cho4-BaVrmrbdyirqXydPTy/s1600/IMG_0325blog2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjHpWLBINzGvr_vHtsmlAp9rm65bT8uQY_4iHHYhRgLNbJcuxK3jcFY2n06WrzZtOVdk0dcopv8fbhZ2t2ymD2Na2EpYF8Kl559lRrmseq7jd11lR6ksNv-cho4-BaVrmrbdyirqXydPTy/s320/IMG_0325blog2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy tea pot. Not that kind<br />
of happy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBn1v79rz8Z8ZHJW63ibBeHtFgUFZQ8WFK7Q-IsBeAe85mG60ybuyN3p3hsTvoXDzsmKw_xQVnN8b9Dl7CpLgpAyOFYLmWHRAEnCgkHc4seVme5BcSrWyOQ5OpOVu17Bn3zCLlo7ubyzh8/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBn1v79rz8Z8ZHJW63ibBeHtFgUFZQ8WFK7Q-IsBeAe85mG60ybuyN3p3hsTvoXDzsmKw_xQVnN8b9Dl7CpLgpAyOFYLmWHRAEnCgkHc4seVme5BcSrWyOQ5OpOVu17Bn3zCLlo7ubyzh8/s320/blog.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Full moon at morning, take warning.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Third place age group. Its the start of a new streak!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeThirtytwo</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-82208497939220248412013-03-04T12:11:00.001-08:002013-03-04T12:13:11.496-08:00Umstead Trail Marathon 2013<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPIONEXP9Z2hq5VcOFe5DM10tl6yDHvN_oPOIe-oMEh2xc_i1urVwmDwRa_V101wIr06kcvWeFdt_EszZtCt0pmGWn4EpDE5iyG9XwAEIbmchX7zNrXV_YrnHMzBOLq0wd3ThiRmJBcH4H/s1600/525309_10200247541945410_1655283108_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPIONEXP9Z2hq5VcOFe5DM10tl6yDHvN_oPOIe-oMEh2xc_i1urVwmDwRa_V101wIr06kcvWeFdt_EszZtCt0pmGWn4EpDE5iyG9XwAEIbmchX7zNrXV_YrnHMzBOLq0wd3ThiRmJBcH4H/s400/525309_10200247541945410_1655283108_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I explain to Brandy Burns why bagels are the most<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Ticked off or Batshit crazy? This wardrobe dilemma crowded my thoughts and Facebook traffic 2 weeks before the 10th annual Umstead Trail Marathon. Each year the marathon's shirt and finisher's pint glass immortalize a creature from the park in the form of a sketched relief. Annually, a mysterious cabal of Cardinals, Illuminati, The Black Hand and Freemasons elect the design under the cover of darkness at a local Applebees. With great daring and deranged disregard for personal safety, AC detailed the esoteric process in his </span><a href="http://www.running-down.com/2011/03/2011-umstead-marathon-mascot-ology.html" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;" target="_blank">Running Down</a><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> blog. (Pursue the link before he and his blog are disappeared forever. I suggest an anonymous IP address from an internet cafe under an assumed name. Don't forget to take your coffee cup with you. Don't leave fingerprints).</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heiko falls victim to bat peer pressure.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Local Facebook trail runners leaned liberally toward the 2012 bat. An Umstead technical shirt flash mob is something to behold. Made up of tens of runners, it can easily block out the sun and has been rumored to consume beer at an alarming rate. I earned the infamous lime green tick shirt and complimenting chalice 2 years ago at my Umstead Trail Marathon debut. Last year's UTM marked the first marathon distance race I singed up for, but did not complete. I took a single ceremonial step before mounting my bike. I did receive my blue bat shirt, but spent that race pedaling gels and waters around the course to the two able legged runners. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AC is Fonzarelli's biggest fan and the lone tick.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">By my deliberation, I earn full license to the bat shirt only after completing the marathon distance while wearing (or at least toting it in my waistband) the blue Chiroptera. My tendons were real tweaky on the right side. Odds of a full 26.2 finish figured at slightly better than winning the beauty contest in Monopoly. I couldn't risk an insult to the Tick with a DNF. And as Batshit crazy more accurately matched my demeanor for this year's running, I went with the 2012 shirt. Anticipating likely failure, I complimented the tunic with a pair of black running tights effectively shrouding my 26.2 and Hermes wings leg tattoos. Unhappily, this maneuver unintentionally answered the circumcision question with every picture of me at the race now posted on the internet. Kilts are demure in comparison.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorry ladies. He is married.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">326 days ago, I scheduled the first available surgical slot following MRI confirmation of a brevis tear in an attempt to make UTM2013. I have not run 26.2 miles since October 15, 2011. In the last 30 days I have run 98.9 miles. In the previous 30 days I ran 38 miles. My surgeon estimated I could likely complete a flat marathon 12-18 months from the procedure. I translated this complex medical jargon to, "you should run a trail marathon with some singletrack in a year" (I did take the very reasonable liberty of rounding 10 months 3 weeks up to a year). My new trail name: Excuses. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barefoot Josh and his patented baby food fueling strategy.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The mind is willing, the body is old. My cardiovascular is close to fully restored (thank you elliptical), my tendons and soft tissue are in tip top condition for at least half of a 400 meter, and I am almost 100% delusional again. Steve, my father-in-law and eminent sage of North Carolina's inner banks, recently awoke from anesthesia to remark, "If your going to be stupid, you'd better be tough." I have adopted this philosophy as my mantra. It may be my next tattoo and I will never have to cover it in tights. I tweaked my right leg pretty good 2 weeks out from the race. A combination of many miles and little sense. My ankle hurt, but only when walking or sitting still. It almost went away when running. Two nights before the race I tried 2 flat miles on the treadmill. My wife noted my off balanced rhythm from downstairs. I admitted my over trained condition and made a solemn oath to my legs that I would not attempt the full distance this year. I compromised with a new set of goals. Best case: half-marathon. Realistic case: run all of the singletrack and walk in. Worst case: run 3 miles and wait for the Moe's burritos to arrive.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz9E7FJPdDeiVMzrwdHo0shJA_dTslp9rf1DZox8wz7yaPpEcAEt4ciaXu7sMVAQM5TQItTpDgfSnmbzSlHDpeFIH3C0uMxFfy6q4irTsF9DR5qa04S0Zznek6a_V6CFceNiEtJI9kshup/s1600/P1020135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz9E7FJPdDeiVMzrwdHo0shJA_dTslp9rf1DZox8wz7yaPpEcAEt4ciaXu7sMVAQM5TQItTpDgfSnmbzSlHDpeFIH3C0uMxFfy6q4irTsF9DR5qa04S0Zznek6a_V6CFceNiEtJI9kshup/s320/P1020135.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lynch mob.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">It is widely known that my leg oath's are my bond. With a stalwart resolve and great prudence I arrived at camp Lapihio promptly to proclaim my intention of dropping early to the park's inhabitants (mostly trees, but a few volunteers were nearby). Fortune smiled on me and I jumped at the chance to procure an additional tick shirt from 2011 in my size. Cognizant that I could not finish the 2013 race, the purchase would serve as a replacement trophy for the day's DNF. And as I plan to be one day be buried in that shirt, it felt savvy to have a spare for the trails. For its tenth anniversary UTM 2013's great animal reveal was a large headed duck on day-glo orange for the men. Pink for the woman. I rested easy and my avowal remained iron clad. Had AC gotten his desired opossum, I might have crawled for the finisher's mug. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAiCrWnSUbn0YS2JW8MrqetAPsBw-JMjv1i-yL3UTA26jleTI_YCujzKixJqVrrPx0TARyKT8L5nVpzhJmczRiIl27rzsCmKofTQFXv30zHX0YbGGUuVvg9RflLIC4xjChtSud1KfrStDW/s1600/P1020136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAiCrWnSUbn0YS2JW8MrqetAPsBw-JMjv1i-yL3UTA26jleTI_YCujzKixJqVrrPx0TARyKT8L5nVpzhJmczRiIl27rzsCmKofTQFXv30zHX0YbGGUuVvg9RflLIC4xjChtSud1KfrStDW/s400/P1020136.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brandy makes the turn at this year's strangely shaped orange cone.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The first glimpses of lunacy did not present until I witnessed the finisher's china at the lodge. True, the pints were adorned with a large headed duck, but they had a large 10 marking the anniversary and they were tricolor. That is right black, orange, AND blue. I immediately wanted one. By now, other runners had trickled in, some competing in their first marathon (awesome job Iris). Many with more grievous injuries than I. Pretty sure I saw an eye patch and one guy looked like he had a battle mace protruding from his torso. A few were hideously handicapped. Scott Lynch succumbed to plague, he ran following a night of norovirus (congratulations on a new PR Scott! If you subtract portojohn time Scott won the marathon by over 2 hours). Complaining about my paltry tendon issues came off pretty lame in comparison. One woman near the fireplace burst into flames. She was not dropping. I slowly started to cross my fingers and reconsider my present abilities.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidd2aSnOKxpeoK7T0dJLV1uA3g__WfgbYNTxwcLkhPq9hZYe3J2iVLchykGy00zvDmraLeBHUzpm0vkJFD79_3JNumdgrSVv3NRj3MO2Xfnndh18Jmm-M3foRny-IFLLmBMpmhtEui6Pl3/s1600/P1020149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidd2aSnOKxpeoK7T0dJLV1uA3g__WfgbYNTxwcLkhPq9hZYe3J2iVLchykGy00zvDmraLeBHUzpm0vkJFD79_3JNumdgrSVv3NRj3MO2Xfnndh18Jmm-M3foRny-IFLLmBMpmhtEui6Pl3/s400/P1020149.JPG" width="300" /></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The call to the start interrupted fireside socializing and we made our way into the cold. As my more ambitious friends strategically positioned themselves near the line, I sought out some prettier faces who were likely too polite to ignore my chatter. I maintained a 9:45 pace for the first few miles, while Brandy B. tried to get away from me. After she slipped away, I managed near 11 minute pace with Sherri through the singletrack. My course knowledge advantage allowed me to keep up until we entered the bridles on Reedy Creek and then I did some alone miles. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEnM9Hk-E3q9l0F2CBKx0mGS_usxJAKO_JZC_SoJjlDjou8C5X98KE0I6TTNWgaAkMCsapWvqN0CJWipd5Ree_5Tp9yGkaBFdGFB0jJaQjgXTrIsOOavtZhyphenhyphen-eVqmzST0ggmcqJ2OKECSc/s1600/P1020148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEnM9Hk-E3q9l0F2CBKx0mGS_usxJAKO_JZC_SoJjlDjou8C5X98KE0I6TTNWgaAkMCsapWvqN0CJWipd5Ree_5Tp9yGkaBFdGFB0jJaQjgXTrIsOOavtZhyphenhyphen-eVqmzST0ggmcqJ2OKECSc/s400/P1020148.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.513513565063477px;">No expense spared at UTM. French waiters refill<br />
your water glass at every turn. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I was able to maintain an 11 average pretty easily, including frequent walking br</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">eaks and blood sugar checks. An extended stop for vasaline repair on my left foot at the Graylyn aid station still left me with a sub 5 time. With only the bridles ahead and feeling not too gimpy, I went completely mad and decided a 4:45 - 5:15 finish was very reasonably achievable. The cardio felt great. I did not wear a HR monitor because I wasn't going to finish, but I'd estimate bpm at a super comfortable 70% of max. Maybe lower. My iffy tendon was ok while running, a tad twingy while walking. Easily solved, just run more. I began to believe in an Umstead miracle. Just like 1984 all over again, but without all of the hockey players and USA chants. I might have chanted USA a little bit. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ITy-zpHAt4iJEM0UBZ7aSIFNxtpHFmJPfNU0I9o50_C8WjpyoRn78k_YDtIZcmk9OeHzkXxXR59AsMAj5uWxTBM5DYbs2ggGRQmHlgNVWdIFhQZ-IT9mhlyzimCg3q00Gf0ciSQ1bjJk/s1600/P1020165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ITy-zpHAt4iJEM0UBZ7aSIFNxtpHFmJPfNU0I9o50_C8WjpyoRn78k_YDtIZcmk9OeHzkXxXR59AsMAj5uWxTBM5DYbs2ggGRQmHlgNVWdIFhQZ-IT9mhlyzimCg3q00Gf0ciSQ1bjJk/s400/P1020165.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rabbits.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">With 2 Turkey Creeks ahead, I wasn't quite a fanatic believer yet. I had some new glimmerings of faith (definitely not reason), but I wasn't ready to give up on pork or don a burka yet. I kept the 11ish pace up and really concentrated on keeping my form balanced and hopefully, less likely to cause any damage. I had played a little on some of the singletrack downhills and really opened up the throttle once or twice. Now, I shortened my stride and went automatic. Outbound on Turkey Creek remains my favorite part of the race. It is inspiring. You pass the halfway point, you see all of your friends again on their return, you still feel strong, and by now you have probably forgotten about Cedar Creek. I knew there was a boost waiting ahead. I was told they had coke at the turn around aid station, but it turned out to be the cola kind.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH0dwZokwL8VVgdDZszj9-NumEP9PJyYyJHbE6l39AMwSpRpFHTkfU88sbJl19lJHuO8JPGFK9G1jsJvTyHc80UnJU7bxxZwiuifZgeSRFhWIxPHBN7i3dX9bhruU12hMydgZ3IxVxXbKT/s1600/P1020163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH0dwZokwL8VVgdDZszj9-NumEP9PJyYyJHbE6l39AMwSpRpFHTkfU88sbJl19lJHuO8JPGFK9G1jsJvTyHc80UnJU7bxxZwiuifZgeSRFhWIxPHBN7i3dX9bhruU12hMydgZ3IxVxXbKT/s320/P1020163.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Call her Steak sauce. Type A Type 1.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The assent up Turkey Creek (it ascends in both directions) was a who's who of everybody faster than me. One of my favorite parts of trail running, no one cares. Following only swingers, the Danish, and drunk Amway salespeople, trail runners are some of the nicest people on earth. Even the leader's will drop a nod of encouragement at you between breaths and many of the peak trained will still stop for a hand of cribbage (but not bridge. Nobody plays bridge anymore). They will even save you a burrito at the finish. I saw everybody on my way out. Too many to list here, just read the <a href="http://www.umsteadmarathon.com//index.php?page=2013-results" target="_blank">finisher's</a> list. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilcU945eAlVtNxSJO-Ce-le20HR26pevFNRyzDQcfibhpSa-KlV4odtWsnvdt4JA4lMxpdcd2hRVmA1FJzy1_0-mYyqEbGTdmbjQoqqeCdCqMxvbOoN6nWKf0oBe0Yu4FVUN-wf0SYWxJ/s1600/P1020172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilcU945eAlVtNxSJO-Ce-le20HR26pevFNRyzDQcfibhpSa-KlV4odtWsnvdt4JA4lMxpdcd2hRVmA1FJzy1_0-mYyqEbGTdmbjQoqqeCdCqMxvbOoN6nWKf0oBe0Yu4FVUN-wf0SYWxJ/s400/P1020172.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boom! Pow! Biff! (stomach gurgle). To the<br />
Bat cave.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">After the turnaround, I began to consider the pros and cons of each beer as a finisher's pint first test. I had it down to either Guiness or Blue Moon when I got the first twinge in my left arch. At first, I suspected some sort of squirrel hijinks. The bushy tailed rodents are not above messing with your footwear when you are not paying full attention. I untied my shoe and re-laced with a little extra room. This bought me a few more miles. Around 19.7 miles, a nail was driven into my left arch. Even walking, every time the body's most amazing spring compressed I felt a stabbing pain. My calm and entirely composed yelps attracted the attention of James, a bike volunteer and harbinger of doom. I stopped and massaged the arch for awhile, hoping it was just a temporary 30 minute cramp. We decided to walk to the 20 mile aid station and reassess. Jame's tri training shows in his amazing bike balance at speeds well below 1 mph.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_ndc1KPBaGFuHKPBqxKvhjYA8B3dITRCrz7erWOr5gswXhntBNJa6wLA2sjcu2aM5yYr7kMVli08MAemHBKTsYvz5stazq00THW3fCyQCfBscmf-r_-MvqTBOiNYWOjb5csroQ4MjCG9/s1600/P1020180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_ndc1KPBaGFuHKPBqxKvhjYA8B3dITRCrz7erWOr5gswXhntBNJa6wLA2sjcu2aM5yYr7kMVli08MAemHBKTsYvz5stazq00THW3fCyQCfBscmf-r_-MvqTBOiNYWOjb5csroQ4MjCG9/s400/P1020180.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James, my escort to mile 20 aid station and harbinger of doom. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My lurch into the mile 20 AS pretty much restored my original more reasonable goals. I was just shy of 4 hours with only 6.2 to go. I only needed a 3 mph walk to beat the last cut off and finish at 6 hours. 4 out of 5 pirates can handle that pace. I knew I would replay the events countless times in my head while drinking out of old finisher's mugs. Amazingly, this was my first bout with a plantar fasciitis issue. I think I have sampled most of the other injuries. It surprised me occurring on the left. That leg has been pretty stable, even though its my surgery side. In sober retrospection, quitting was the only option (I am writing this 2 days later with my left foot submerged in ice water). Also, the call of a free Gator ride in Umstead offered its own siren temptation. A quick jaunt to the start assured a still warm finisher's burrito.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipcuFthykiLquzQrmiQH5tvD6kTr7eadGycbsEc3QDUYErQ3Fz9bvG4DQw0pUhHfbhNZ7PM-p3Y9jJUm7ATDrbWldzP2yMjeyErPIqQmtViPWUmwSDe9rCKULZYn4mfpcQPLU1l9uTiyLu/s1600/P1020181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipcuFthykiLquzQrmiQH5tvD6kTr7eadGycbsEc3QDUYErQ3Fz9bvG4DQw0pUhHfbhNZ7PM-p3Y9jJUm7ATDrbWldzP2yMjeyErPIqQmtViPWUmwSDe9rCKULZYn4mfpcQPLU1l9uTiyLu/s320/P1020181.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why do I insist on running with frozen peas?</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Unfortunately, the UTM committee protects itself from lollygaggers looking for free golf cart rides. To ensure that lazy runners don't abuse the race's infrastructure and medical assets, a complex shaming ritual has been implemented. I was quickly provided with an ice pack, directions to the finish, and unlimited well wishes. After several minutes, a sprinkle of whining, and some expert limping, the volunteers ascertained that I was not physically able to make the finish on my own. Responsible for keeping the park pristine as a condition of hosting the race, they called in for further instructions on how to properly dispose of my carcass. A biker (I think they called him "the cleaner") was dispatched to verify my lameness factor. He briefly considered letting me biodegrade, but decided against it as too time consuming. I was deemed an eligible candidate for shaming and extraction.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWis9fUb5_aVXX3u0m83rniiCzsNCkhRVJSvqM9u-n3PGq_kCrrKu8sKbApGnFi1YZ2uGhW08uhiUug2_CAPOevSNB2zBHg_OpdQZ2bh8EReg0-r3jDG4CBu5-R0gCUiBTwQMd0KhmlSiF/s1600/P1020182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWis9fUb5_aVXX3u0m83rniiCzsNCkhRVJSvqM9u-n3PGq_kCrrKu8sKbApGnFi1YZ2uGhW08uhiUug2_CAPOevSNB2zBHg_OpdQZ2bh8EReg0-r3jDG4CBu5-R0gCUiBTwQMd0KhmlSiF/s400/P1020182.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doug Hensel's chauffeur service for slack runners.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The Umstead dishonor ritual tilts toward PSYOPs, more than physical torture, as you have already demonstrated physical pain. The aid station enlistees and 2 bikers formed a circle around me. They held hands with me in the center. Somebody was chanting lightly in Latin. I was forced to renounce the duck. They were going to shave my head, but abstained as it is presently only milometers high. Several small children threw Oreo cookies at me. Everybody symbolically turned away and the cleaner demanded the surrender of my race number. I believe it is to be burned later and then never mentioned again. Disgraced and not requiring immediate medical attention, I was asked to wait near the shame tree until transportation arrived. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB7r7a49EW5qhSJjaGirHOjM1X1qt1kXdIyq-nqHyLaEaKc3C_IbdRY_9VUTkQSxdZy7IxKECb5HHziC3gnlm0XDpkFI2CE7PfQSAELnbL809XQF1ArqdrP2z2brPe7HT4O2LbASQYIajY/s1600/P1020159.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB7r7a49EW5qhSJjaGirHOjM1X1qt1kXdIyq-nqHyLaEaKc3C_IbdRY_9VUTkQSxdZy7IxKECb5HHziC3gnlm0XDpkFI2CE7PfQSAELnbL809XQF1ArqdrP2z2brPe7HT4O2LbASQYIajY/s320/P1020159.JPG" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">After a half hour passed, Doug H arrived in a horse drawn cart to transport me to the start. Actually, a horse drawn cart may have been slightly faster. Doug was in charge of breaking down the aid station and returning its many pieces to the start. He was driving a 1985 stolen red Chevy, loaded with runner's booty. Food, tables, water, signage. Irene Ryan was sitting in a rocking chair over the cab. He found room for me near the passenger seat and we jumped in line between 2 police cars and farm traffic. Skipping Cedar Creek, I was within 3.5 miles of the start by foot. To cover the distance outside of the park by roadway, we drove almost 13862 miles. Thanks for the ride Doug! On our journey, we got pretty close talking the day over by the fire at our campsites throughout the month or so it took to return to Lapihio.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sally is so bad @ss.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Factoring out some small exaggeration in the timeline, I was able to finish just before Brandy B. Of course, the use of any red pick up truck to cross the finish disqualifies a runner. So she did beat me on a small technicality. I finally got that burrito. Even quitting at 20 miles, my insulin sensitivity was great. I witnessed Iris cross the line for her first marathon finish. That first time energy is always rejuvenating and contagious (hopefully unlike Scott's norovirus). Its always awe inspiring. I watched Sally chomp down miles on her way to the hundred again this year. A month ago, I would never have believed I would be satisfied with a 20 mile finish at UTM. But slowly, even I am capable of some perspective. A year ago I took one step. Six months ago I was still fresh out of a boot. The year of the duck left me unable to finish because of OVER training. What a gift to be able to over train again. I am grateful and a little smarter than last year. I will stretch, I will ice. I am taking the next 2 weeks off. I scheduled a mountain climbing class to keep me distracted. I hear by publicly make a solemn oath of no running to my legs for at least a fortnight. And its common knowledge that my leg oaths are sacrosanct. Please, if you see me in the park off of a bike before the ides of March, feel free to forcibly escort me out. It should be easy, presently I have little to no lower leg strength.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anthony Corriveau finally gets his Opossum<br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">A quick note on Jay's after party. Even without a qualifying finish, I was invited in a reporting capacity. His house is very convenient to the park. He live's under one of the larger trees on Ebeneezer. I got my annual Blue Moon (like a real boy) and 2 glasses of red (Though they did make me wear a pink duck shirt while drinking the wine). To spite Scott's PR and his GI tract, I had my 2nd serving of black beans in the form of the best pork chili I have ever tasted. (4 times in one day Scott! You may be faster, but my legume records will stand for decades. Moe's burrito, Chili at Jay's house, Nachos with black beans and jalapenos for dinner, and left over <a href="http://www.ricksdiner.com/mainlinks.php?id=174" target="_blank">Rick's Diner</a> black and butter beans for late night snack.) Thanks for opening your home Jay. Although, I did make the rather disturbing discovery of your pasties stash when opening cupboards in the kitchen searching for a mug. Best, AND LAST, Umstead marathon WITHOUT a finish to date. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This homeless park child beat me to the finish.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Galloway cheer leading section.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jay Spadie (on Turkey Creek return), faster only because of the the aerodynamic properties of pasties. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Diane models a stress fracture, JoAnna's tights by Vera Wang. Hydration system by Jimmy Choo.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duck it! Denied.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeThirtyone</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-79976021748631317622013-02-04T18:16:00.003-08:002013-02-04T18:44:56.041-08:00Uwharrie Mountain Run Review 2013<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><u>UMR 2013 Review</u>. Or <u>A Calamitous Hike through the Woods in Late Winter</u>. I have often read that it is better to be under trained rather than over trained for an event. My body is now empirical evidence both axioms are equally stupid.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvOaVl-lty7dJClYX1T5-U2RqnuCyJ0VUjEKfGIkW4W-21rMsKPu9xWoqhsleNt9V5l3Fd2kLeWCKSfJkWemEYHlSa0WhFXqMUWuRXW162IPzdPnnutuieMFF36egiRWo9b7-6vQq6rO9S/s1600/IMG_0236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvOaVl-lty7dJClYX1T5-U2RqnuCyJ0VUjEKfGIkW4W-21rMsKPu9xWoqhsleNt9V5l3Fd2kLeWCKSfJkWemEYHlSa0WhFXqMUWuRXW162IPzdPnnutuieMFF36egiRWo9b7-6vQq6rO9S/s400/IMG_0236.JPG" width="300" /></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">This year's mountain run provided a very handsome race tech shirt, a round white logo centered on a deep crimson long sleeve. The color sticks out smartly against North Carolina's winter landscape and neatly disguises any of your recently let blood from said landscape. Registration was efficient, buses ran on time, bathroom facilities were adequately handled, aid stations were perfect, pre-race bulletin addressed everything. Bull City Running has always put on great races, but they seem to be just showing off now. Kim and Jason's race director experiences lend real polish to this event. You only notice their legions of volunteer minions when you need them. Their behind the scenes efforts allow you to focus all of your efforts on the race, and this race is worthy of your undivided attention. From my heart: Thank you Bull City Running and volunteers. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">That aside there are some real obstacles at this race. Challenges that make it that much better. If Uhwarrie donned clothes, she'd sport lots of leather, fishnets, tattoos, and most especially a whip (probably handcuffs too). If you like UMR, consider looking up Raven at Pandora's Box next time you visit NYC. Either one will be happy to provide you with chaffed nipples, but at Uhwarrie you also get pottery and a shirt.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frozen fish sticks.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I left Durham at 4:00 to allow ample time for a McD's stop, flat tire, or hysterics. Its just over a 2 hour drive. Two</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> hours of NPR at that hour results in falling asleep at the wheel and 2 hours of house techno gets me way to revved up when paired with 6 cups of coffee. After trying both I should have compromised with Rosetta Stone. E</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">l pollo frío está compitiendo en la biblioteca por la montaña.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">It was 19 degrees when I arrived at the El Dorado outpost. Half the outdoor bait minnows were frozen solid! Bonus: No rain this year.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I arrived early enough to connect with some old friends running the 40 mile option. Those who could break free of their straight jackets for the weekend, the usual suspects. Last year I planned on running the out and back in 2013, but 3 days after the race my ankle officially resigned. As under trained as I was 20 might have well as been 40 and 40 might have well as been climbing K2 in a snow storm. Respect 40 milers. Hope to join your ranks in 2014. Special congratulations on your longest race Scott. You looked better at 23 than I felt at 17 when we crossed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">After the 40's bussed out, I had the opportunity to reconnect with Steph and her entourage. She introduced me to Diane. Diane is a unicorn. Distance runner, cardio freak and T1 diabetic. She also bikes, but I did not hold that too much against her. We sat together in the front of the bus to ride to the start, where I provided gratis, an insulin carbohydrate ratio disquisition to the eager surrounding captive audience. I effectively used this time to establish my medical bona fides (I have webMD!) and maximize irony. It made my 36 blood sugar hypoglycemia at mile 11 much funnier. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I lined up near Steph and friends at the start and said goodbye. My plan to treat this race as a slow long run Umstead Marathon prep combined with my current fitness level ensured a lot of solo running. I remembered the back up on the first mile bottle neck last year and felt entitled to start further up in the crowd than I expected to finish. The first mile looks like a Newark runway on a holiday.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRR6fyQjDnVR4oj_H-JyCkHEZqrhrbdO1BAQpGuES0XRTn7Ty85mtM8Q6WsXTjp0q4Jp_jUo-5NCJMotxKv53eY92JaVM4A5IyocMZsu1_m7tvPgZPRT4F3ossjp4pCNHeiabhSLUugtS/s1600/IMG_0225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRR6fyQjDnVR4oj_H-JyCkHEZqrhrbdO1BAQpGuES0XRTn7Ty85mtM8Q6WsXTjp0q4Jp_jUo-5NCJMotxKv53eY92JaVM4A5IyocMZsu1_m7tvPgZPRT4F3ossjp4pCNHeiabhSLUugtS/s1600/IMG_0225.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With head phones discouraged some racers opt<br />
for more traditional forms.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Miles 1-5 did a lot to restore my confidence. I was coming off a 9 day lay off due to general tendon funkiness. Everything felt pretty great. I followed the crowd, and other than some brief uncomfortable lungs caused by the crazy cold, I finally felt present as a distance runner again. I had layered up with 2 tech shirts and a light North Face jacket over cargo shorts and compression unmentionables. I completed the ensemble with a grey Goodwill suit jacket. I had planned on dropping the blazer at the start, but it was so cold I decided to begin semi-formal. It was a good choice. I did not get warm until mile 2 and donated the formal duds at the first aid station. I was running ahead of schedule at the 5 mile aid station and stopped for some fine dining. This first aid station did not have any Michelin stars yet, but the fare was very cosmopolitan. I sampled potato chips, Hammer Montana huckleberry gel, pb&j squares, and cold salty potato paired with several shots of a vintage 2013 coke. To my surprise, I saw Joanna arrive. She was running UMR as a slow long run Umstead prep also. Ahead of schedule and with pleasant company I was happy to embark onto the next quarter of the race.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHKFrGBAx84BehHCo4qHGyIRQjn9tsOKkQuhOk-BzbiRG9wG5NKpMvt_VZhMwG2RDb_lodyHADZ1_QB1Dr_187ev1AUE5e_Go9YVD1wEGlUYpb9-u_lovwbEqNlymTQFDd6OEWA5Jh0UAn/s1600/IMG_0230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHKFrGBAx84BehHCo4qHGyIRQjn9tsOKkQuhOk-BzbiRG9wG5NKpMvt_VZhMwG2RDb_lodyHADZ1_QB1Dr_187ev1AUE5e_Go9YVD1wEGlUYpb9-u_lovwbEqNlymTQFDd6OEWA5Jh0UAn/s1600/IMG_0230.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uhwharrie park bench.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Miles 6-10 did a lot to shake my confidence. I enjoyed conversing with Joanna or rather monologueing at her. (Surprise! I tend to talk A LOT when running at a comfortable pace). Unfortunately for Joanna, my bad ankle mojo tried to jump to a new host. She twisted her right ankle a few times. Luckily, her tendons are constructed of a hardier collagen and she finished OK. For the first time in my "racing" career I had GI issues. My stomach started rumbling around mile 6 and I was in some distress by mile 7. I made it to the large mile 8 stop (2 Michelin stars) and pealed off toward the blue room without even an adieu. After some reflection and checking a few emails I felt much better. I thought it wise to skip the buffet line and settled on a few cokes. I left in high spirits and thought it probable to catch up to Joanna if I stepped up the pace a smidge.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFPqmmT4FYsJ5YXmMsXGvNQ318dQawYx9FXXLisiwxYVOIEdgJBet3npIFhWgMLc9btWhDu5bBRYv-zTj8xBOk8cRoQPc24kzO80vdL8ACQJ6kcbEhxeF733AoRuo4RF3_EAnC6iL1m92a/s1600/IMG_0238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFPqmmT4FYsJ5YXmMsXGvNQ318dQawYx9FXXLisiwxYVOIEdgJBet3npIFhWgMLc9btWhDu5bBRYv-zTj8xBOk8cRoQPc24kzO80vdL8ACQJ6kcbEhxeF733AoRuo4RF3_EAnC6iL1m92a/s400/IMG_0238.JPG" width="300" /></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Miles 11-15 took my confidence out to the woodshed. I was really struggling by mile 10. I chalked the tiredness up to going out too fast and my shunning of p90x. At the mile 11 aid station my stomach was rolling and I felt pretty bad. My blood sugar was 135 at mile 8, I checked again and was surprised to find a 36. Not a PR for me in a race, but close. The volunteer at 11 was either familiar with diabetics, a nurse, or an angel. I was too low to make decent decisions and my stomach was not going to tolerate my go to Hammer gel treatment. My new aid station guardian insisted on my partaking of some peanut butter, chips, and assorted goodies. I spent some time recovering and the protein settled things down enough for me to suck down 3 gels. I convinced the aid station that I would survive at least long enough to make mile 14 and they let me go with a cargo pocket full of Hammer gels. By now, I was pretty close to last place, although still slightly ahead of the DNFs. I figured my chances of finishing at about half. I made it to mile 14 with a 79 blood sugar. Normal for the pancreas functional crowd, but too close to disaster for me. I had switched insulin delivery systems and was running half the amount of my usual basal rates. My best professional medical guess, my effort level was much higher than usual causing my muscles to slurp glucose. At mile 14 I discovered the hot soup. Chicken noodle soup rules! It fully calmed down the belly and I dined, as if this were my last meal. I figured 15% chance it was. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCX_9cAiF9AxuqqUGPwfwSNFaeesnBSuyYmNkL90tW6sIpzHeMrpjy-hzKLbSD3hm6ZubNYpGniZflk9sbqqSrFnimQpBPB_tBhO5I7iJJCvqBsOj4RvZlu6Jj85DJVFDh3M6geQ03v64B/s1600/IMG_0248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCX_9cAiF9AxuqqUGPwfwSNFaeesnBSuyYmNkL90tW6sIpzHeMrpjy-hzKLbSD3hm6ZubNYpGniZflk9sbqqSrFnimQpBPB_tBhO5I7iJJCvqBsOj4RvZlu6Jj85DJVFDh3M6geQ03v64B/s1600/IMG_0248.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even without my glasses<br />
I found my bag check with<br />
very little trouble.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Miles 16-20, my confidence shattered and I prayed for rapture. I was recovered from the low BS, but pretty beat up from it. My food intake was back to normal, but I would have rather tried rocky mountain oysters with blood pudding than force down another Hammer gel. My under training started to show. My Frankenankle (Thanks for the moniker Jay) was holding up nicely, but I had real tendon issues starting in both legs. I used my pottery lust to carry me forward, but I was walking the ups and even some of the downs by now. The math said I could finish within 8 hours, but the biology said I might have to crawl. I was pretty sure no one was behind me. As my desire for pottery began to flag, I decided to quit at the mile 17 aid station. Then suddenly I was passing runners again. Of course, they were the returning 40 milers and they were headed toward me, but it was very nice to see hominids again. I saw some friendly faces (Bart), stopped and spoke with Jay (cold symptoms), Heiko (also GI issues), Scott (disgustingly chipper) and found some new reserves. I rested at aid station 17 and took time to soup and chat with the volunteers. I saw the last of the 40 milers come through and finally trekked off toward promised hot coffee at the finish. By mile 18.5 I could not run any more. Left leg quad was done. I had shortened my stride to a rock kicking shuffle a while back, but even that was becoming excruciating. I was afraid I would hurt it badly enough to prevent even walking. This part sucked. But surprisingly to me, it restored some of my confidence. Not in my fitness, I know I need a good 6 months of building stamina, but in my will power. I have not been over a 50k in racing (that turned into 33 miles because of a rerouting around a washed out bridge). This felt much worse. Even though it was only 20 miles, I was well past my physical reserves. UMR 2013 was an Ultra for me, and it tested my moxie, pluck, chutzpah, and gumption. I finished at the expense of my soft tissues, but backbone is pricey and worth it. I am not sure I will finish Umstead under the cut off this year, but after a summer of rebuilding I know I will return to whatever my abilities allow. Finally, 10 months after surgery I am starting to desire running again (and not just for the swag). I will start next week as soon as I can walk without limping.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgREda5NkZ-o-izvoo9iVPdgI25sVybV9u-hz9w7nwcFqsTD9VMyen4X-pcHNzZO6s1hGLKjvjjwc-51SM5JbeOeqHQNMRoGQx1RXDdruo5DL7N5f0P3sMZgeLwX2ZwPQ33hJTCuFoClSV1/s1600/IMG_0254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgREda5NkZ-o-izvoo9iVPdgI25sVybV9u-hz9w7nwcFqsTD9VMyen4X-pcHNzZO6s1hGLKjvjjwc-51SM5JbeOeqHQNMRoGQx1RXDdruo5DL7N5f0P3sMZgeLwX2ZwPQ33hJTCuFoClSV1/s400/IMG_0254.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cold ducks are known to be very good for inflammation.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeThirty</span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-23098091496762845252013-01-31T20:11:00.004-08:002013-02-04T18:19:32.570-08:00Uwharrie Mountain Run Pre-Review 2013<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Its Uwharrie time again. The race without grace. Everyone looks like a semi-retired Sasquatch with lumbar issues trying to navigate this course. The 20 miler option was the final straw for my torn brevis in 2012. I was over trained and naively confident about last year's run. Never again. This year I am bravely under trained and sagely terrified. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I have prepared quite carefully. I have been frugal with long runs, only once attaining 15 miles. No onsite preparation this year, instead I have carefully mimicked the course, including aid stations, with 3 miles of sidewalk in my subdivision. My clothes and gear are carefully laid out in my closet, under my bed, some in my car, and I think my shoes may be on the back deck. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I have no business running this event. I blame Der Scott. He goaded me into signing up by mercilessly mocking me on FB. I feel like Uwharrie is my first major step back into distance running. It is the horse that threw me. And Umstead marathon is only 4 weeks out. If I can survive crawling though the Ophir mountains for 20 miles, I might restore some of the confidence I am going to need to finish my favorite race next month. Three more months would do it. I think I would be strong enough to reasonably attempt both races by then. Alas, like killer African bees they have already arrived. And they are deadly. No buzzing though. Neither Uwharrie or Umstead really buzz. And no wings. And killer bees don't have parking hours or rangers. Otherwise a fair simile. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I could probably derail myself rather fantastically with either of these races. My only hope is to approach them with the same caution normally reserved for the bees. My hole card for the Uwharrie 20 miler is the time limit. There isn't one. Or its 8 hours. Same thing. I was disappointed not to break 4 hours last year. This year my target is 6. In fact I will consider this race a failure if I do not finish between 5.5-6.5 hours. Anything faster confirms my imbecility. Anything slower most likely indicates a copay and a backless gown. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I figure running the downs and the flats and walking the ups may leave my ankles intact enough to continue training for Umstead. I have run nothing but trails (and some barefoot sidewalk 1.5 milers to and from the Redbox) for the past 6 weeks. I need to be able to switch to the level surface of the bridal trails. My legs are very unused to repetitive ground. I guess I need at least 2 more long runs after this debacle. So step 1, stay alive. Step 2, stay healthy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I am anxious to run this one. I put my chances of a finish at 70%. Uninjured finish: 50%. But that's not bad. Well prepared racers have a 35% chance of injury in this race. There is a 20% chance you will get lost. And a 2% chance you will accidentally interrupt moonshiners. So without further adieu, Uwharrie 20 miler 2013.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><a href="http://ovenphone.blogspot.com/2013/02/uwharrie-mountain-run-review-2013.html">(Race report goes here)</a> (hopefully)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeTwentynine</span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-70834673066609780542012-12-21T23:00:00.000-08:002012-12-30T11:32:05.597-08:00It's the end of the world and I feel supine.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8jICggJ8N3FNdD-Mm5sCJRfinFCn5xOg0XvBf4_kvnYI6yjabSrEoeYZeTScyxtzvTUC06hdawq3lakekaQcL0UJQHLPIDbd4tO7-BUUh1YkLbvJODPaaHVOprJkxPg1l1ve4VLlKVlL/s1600/leglength.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8jICggJ8N3FNdD-Mm5sCJRfinFCn5xOg0XvBf4_kvnYI6yjabSrEoeYZeTScyxtzvTUC06hdawq3lakekaQcL0UJQHLPIDbd4tO7-BUUh1YkLbvJODPaaHVOprJkxPg1l1ve4VLlKVlL/s400/leglength.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Injury news. Fair and <br /><strike>balanced.</strike></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I have been struggling. Every run is an effort and each recovery takes days. My gait is off and the resulting misalignment assaults a new muscle group as quickly as I adjust to the last insult. Quad pain morphed into ham string issues which brought on piriformis issues which birthed a jacked up hip which resulted in iliocastalis problems which compromised my lower obliques. </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">When angry, the piriformis likes to swell intruding into the sciatic nerve's personal space. If the stars align just right it can also trap the pudendal nerve which, among other important functions, services your naughty bits. Have you ever mis-hit a soft ball with an aluminum bat? My stellar event transferred that stinging sensation right to my perineum. Hilarious really. My torn perineal brevis gave me a tingling perineum. The iliocastalis pain referral imitated a kidney stone pretty convincingly and the lower obliques convinced me I had a bladder infection. This resulted in a doctor's visit and a culture. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Dem bones, dem bones, the ankle bone's connected to the pelvis bone.</i><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">If you push your body quickly enough, you are sure to be first in line to pick out the best cast colors. Hurry or you may end up with yellow. I did not start this post to wallow in my injuries or to seek your sympathy. <i>Münchausen! Gazuntite!</i> O crap, I think my overuse injuries just caught turrets. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I wanted to honestly catalog my return. And these problems with my chassis came as a surprise. I was not forewarned by the surgeon or the physical therapy folks and I found no mention of anything similar on the internet. I did a lot of abdominal work waiting for my rehabilitation process to allow a return to running. I branched into every alternative exercise short of square dancing while I waited for the green light. Did I unwittingly set up some problem areas before I resumed training? Or perhaps my 6 week couch to half marathon approach contained a small flaw. My 1500 miles per week in the car may contribute a knot or two. I imagine, just like Ragu, it's in there; the answer that is, not soybean oil. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Outline the difficulty I am having now, look back and appreciate the distance traveled later. I would like to share a few of the tools I have found to make this transition easier. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I don't advance my religious views on the internet. I don't politic on the world wide web. I don't sell boy scout popcorn or candy bars for a high school band in the cloud. (By the way why not click on an add in the upper right when you are done reading this?) But in spite of my well established record of providing only frivolity and hijinx on this site, I now break my streak with an endorsement. If you have muscles and/or tendons I recommend that you purchase </span><u style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Trigger-Point-Therapy-Workbook-Self-Treatment/dp/1572243759/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1352350860&sr=8-1&keywords=claire+davies+the+trigger+point+therapy+workbook" target="_blank">The Trigger Point Therapy Workbook: Your Self-Treatment Guide for Pain Relief, Second Edition</a>.</u><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"> I have pushed this book on my friends (those who have muscles and/or tendons) like Tutanchamon pushed a pyramid scheme. I have surprised relatives hopeful for Christmas ties or birthday socks with a copy of this book. Buy this book, buy a </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000PRMCJU?ie=UTF8&hvadid=2246542511&hvexid=&hvnetw=g&hvpone=&hvpos=1t1&hvptwo=&hvqmt=e&hvrand=12311277671404044829&ref=pd_sl_1yyw4lg45q_e&tag=googhydr-20" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Thera cane</a><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">, steal a foam roller, and kidnap a good massage therapist. Make sure you vet the therapist through your spouse. Don't find one directly off of an interstate exit. Avoid recommendations from spas that use a moniker involving the word lucky.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">In the two months since my last post, I established a delicate balance between over training and injury. I spend equal amounts of time practicing both. The repaired tendon has held up remarkably well. The rest of the body, not so much. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXXmBUnlrPUJnCQqwoX3AN4BQl7O-HsrTdEuwC1LFWUzl2iqs9wwIB_CahFNEQr80nF7Xa34QbPTeBt1K2Lc-rKdxcEeQ-nSygNv6Yo7Ih68Yj-JyuE_ljZhGsBtC2P8ox31btaAelqlaW/s1600/P1010721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXXmBUnlrPUJnCQqwoX3AN4BQl7O-HsrTdEuwC1LFWUzl2iqs9wwIB_CahFNEQr80nF7Xa34QbPTeBt1K2Lc-rKdxcEeQ-nSygNv6Yo7Ih68Yj-JyuE_ljZhGsBtC2P8ox31btaAelqlaW/s320/P1010721.JPG" width="238" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">NY wainscoting.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I traveled to New York on business a week after hurricane Sandy devastated the state. A great opportunity to add some red dots to my gps running map. The city looked as damaged as my skeletal system, but appeared to be mending at a slightly faster rate. I felt sympatico with the bipolar behavior of the city. Times square was drowning in tourists doing normal touristy things, while half the city waited in gas lines and navigated trashed infrastructure. With mta.info's help, a brief window between work and my return flight, and an over confidence in my own navigation abilities, I managed a 4 hour running/subway tour of the island. Hotel price gouging was the latest NY fashion trend, but I managed a nice suite in a Brooklyn Hasidic neighborhood, bordering what I assume is the pizza district. I alternated between running and subwaying and managed to take in Grand Central Station, Rockefeller Center, Times Square, Wall Street, Battery Park, and parts of Brooklyn. It was fun running through the suits, tourists, and general bedlam. I got to eat Subway, next to a subway. I sucked up some culture (and a slice or three) and left only slightly off balance.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">NY navigational system. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Enter the chiropractic. <a href="http://www.stakerchiropractic.com/">Staker Chiropractic Center</a> was able to shore up the NY damage. It felt as if everything was falling apart when I ran, because everything was falling apart when I ran. The city sidewalks were a bit harder than my usual dirt trails. After diagnosing a leg length discrepancy just shy of an inch, the bone cruncher managed to pop my Sacroiliac joint back into place after 3 visits. Instant relief. I wasted no time feeling good and made a hasty return to long running on the trails. I was able to limp through one lap of <a href="http://derscott.blogspot.com/2012/12/umstead-crazy-8s-death-march.html">der Scott's crazy 8 tour</a>. I lost him early, but managed to follow Jay's dust trail back to the group after he took a wrong turn and looped back. Its a bit disheartening to loose both speed and endurance, but I really enjoyed the company of some familiar faces and the delicious taste of Hammer Perpetuem chalk. And Iris raised the bar on running fashion, sporting a Christmas sweater tech shirt, complete with reindeer.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I found the sandwich boar too heavy.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I left Scott's romp bruised, but satisfied with my long run's recent mileage increases. Happy to discover that the world was ending on December 21, 2012, I scheduled another run with Scott & friends to begin at 11 PM on that last day. If Armahgeddon arrived before midnight, I still planned on counting the run as a 13 miler. Most prominent archaeologists agree that the Mayans always counted a run at its start in their log books. As it turned out I had to finish the run, but Jay Spadie helped us celebrate our continuing divine comedy with a shot of Hot Damn cinnamon schnapps. Note to cardio aficionados: schnapps makes a poor running fuel. The idea to run through a closed park morphed into an event after Scott posted a detailed map and timetable on FB. I started to grasp FB's power as everyone from my mother to my massage therapist wished me luck on my upcoming adventure. I hoped the extended rsvp invitations did not extend to park rangers. Who wants to ring in the Rapture in Smokey the bears pokey? With over 44 people invited and an almost 9% appearance rate, I was intent on placing in the top 3 in my age group.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Pic stolen from Bart Bechard.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Because of my slow healing ankle and overall daily balance challenges, I promised to stay on the bridal paths. So after a brief stint in the parking lot timing how long Jay could stand around in shorts in sub-30 degrees, we unanimously decided to take the single track trail hurlgolly (name changed to make it mathematically impossible to tell which park we were in) into the park. Questioning the wisdom of our decision, Scott fell superman style face first within 50 feet. Luckily, I had chickened out and left my diabetic friendly Michalob Ultra at the gate. It surely would have gone all over bubbly with Scott's jostling. Besides if caught, I only had enough bribe money for trespassing. Among the four of us, we had 3 head lamps and a full moon, but barring Scott's early balance issue, our only close calls were a water crossing and a troll sighting near one of the bridges. We killed the headlamps and let our eyes adjust to the low moonlight once we hit the bridal paths. Cat-like I only ran off the trail twice. The quicksters outpaced us for the last time on South pigeon trail (</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">name changed to make it </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">alphabetically</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> impossible to tell which park we were in), after we debunked the Mayan calendar and confirmed our continued existence in the physical plane. This calender debacle calls the entire Mayan office suite into question. I know their power point is for crap.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Anxious, not to miss any whining about my pace, stamina and injuries, Scott stayed with me. The rest of the run was as perfect as the start. I love night running by moonlight. You fall into a pace and exist in the moment. The darkness acts as blinders and your not overwhelmed with excess sensory perception. Your mind just blanks. It is very relaxing, and a powerful enough experience to shut even my pie hole for minutes at a time.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The miles melted into one another and passed without event, until we exited past the ranger dwelling near 2 AM. It was lit up like an Escape from Alcatraz movie. I only counted 9 searchlights and guard towers, 6 armed guard patrols, and 4 German shepherds but there may have been more. The lights from the cabin washed onto the exit road and tried to illuminate our profiles. Our black running ninja suits proved up to the scrutiny and we hugged the shadows. I cleverly adopted the danger as an excuse to squeeze in a walk break. The reprieve lasted only briefly before samurai Scott shattered the night silence and stepped on the loudest dry leaf in North America. We picked the pace back up and stayed just ahead of the armed ranger guards, attack dogs, spotlights, laser sharks, and my nighttime imagination. Fortunately, all pursuit ended as we exited the unnamed park and crossed the highway back to our vehicles. The tree canopy that had provided a nice wind break ended and we were fully exposed to the arctic blast over the highway. The wind tunnel discouraged all from our back trail, but slightly threw off my balance as my bollocks searched out warmer climes somewhere near my lungs. The rest of our group had waited to make sure we survived the elements as well as Mayan astronomy and we parted until the next end of the world.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Broadway style tap dancing, as illustrated by Slippers the water nymph.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Unconcerned about recovery due to my promised immediate demise, I might have pushed the mileage a bit too far. The night run agitated my músculo iliopsoas and my hypochondria. So I shall continue to roll, massage, limp, complain and stretch my way back to mobility. My new reasonable and balanced approach to longer distance is to gently stress, wait for complete recovery and then gently stress again. I shall begin immediately; as soon as I get back to 30 mile long runs. I have Uhwarrie 20 in five weeks and Umstead marathon in nine. Both of my race goals are survival. Last year Uhwarrie was the final insult to my torn tendon. Since that 20 miler, I have not run over 14. I want to get back on the horse. In particular that horse. That rocky, unrunnable, ankle biting Uhwarrie horse. 4 weeks later Umstead, mainly for the pint glass. I opted for the earliest surgery available in April of 2012 to give me the best chance for a full marathon return at Umstead. Its going to be close. Its so good to be out there again, and I am attaining common sense one malady at a time. Run for pleasure, elliptical for punishment. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">diatribeTwentyEight</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-43762204726895666542012-10-31T18:13:00.000-07:002012-10-31T18:13:22.623-07:00Spinx Run Fest 2012<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Spinx, not Sphinx.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I have long been a fan of both corporate gasoline conglomerates and run festing, so this weekend's Spinx Run Fest 2012 was a real no-brainer for me. Spinx is a small southern chain of gas stations that makes a petrol that tastes slightly better than their turkey sandwiches. If you too have been obsessing over my ankle surgery saga, you are no doubt aware that this race weekend followed my brevis repair by exactly 6 months on the Gregorian calendar.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">That translates roughly to 8 new moon, "oh craps", on the Mayan calendar. I resumed running 11 weeks ago and was in no way ready for this race. The Big Punkin 5k run/walk was probably a better fit for me, and that only because I was prohibited by blatant ageism from entering the L'il Punkin kid's run.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Speedy Gonzales and friend in skirt.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Guess who got back from the restroom line 2 minutes before</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Not too long ago, my mother and I established a tradition of running a half-marathon together each year. We had previously run this event together in 2010. If you understand together to mean, drive 350 miles to your parent's house, wake up at 5:30 AM, drive back toward Durham to Greenville, SC and then run entirely separate from one another because you had some vague arbitrary time goal. My rehabbing back toward the mid-packers has allowed me a bit more perspective. I was thrilled to have the opportunity to run step by step with my mother again. Unfortunately, she has not been blessed with the benefit of my new perspective and was in this event to race down everyone and anyone she knew. My mom commonly places in her age group and scrutinizes race results like a hypochondriact analyzes webMD. Her long time running partner Christie G, Christie's husband William, and myself were all fair game. I have not been over 10 miles since Uhwarrie in February. I was hoping to pace my speedy matriarch to a PR pace until mile 11 or so and then limp in myself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I believe my mom is a pretty well rounded runner (she was running 5Ks before the training wheels came off my Schwinn). Her major weakness is her under estimation of her reserves. She usually comes out conservative and finishes strong with a bit left in the tank. This time we were looking to come out a little quicker and to finish just mostly alive. This HM has an ugly profile. It lulls you in with 6.5 miles of downhill and then the second half of the half (I guess that would make it a 1/4?) is all uphill. Interspersed throughout the route, a spongy track like material parallels the paved paths that make up a large part of the course. It feels great, but I think it saps a bit off your pace. Think Buick Regal ride rather than Porche performance. Its also pretty narrow and very crowded. Personally, I chose to run with my healing foot on the squishy material and my good foot on the asphalt. Think drunk pirate. This approach allowed me to equally annoy those on both sides.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">If not for those meddling kids!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: large;">I felt that Spinx adopted the Paul Ryan austerity approach toward race management for 2012. By slashing the pork out of aid stations and the post race table, we almost balanced the SC deficit with savings realized from the Gatorade and water only stops. The 2010 race offered warm grits (which we originally thought were mashed potatoes) at the finish. Its funny what you crave in a race. It was the thought of that hot hominy that propelled me through the later miles. Had I known it was only dry Folsom State sandwiches we approached, I might have despaired In the spirit of bipartisanship, I do freely admit that the pre-race coffee policy remained unchanged from 2010 for those over the age of 55. Fortunately for me, I appear to be in my early 70s before 7:30 AM and SC does not yet require ID to caffeinate. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Before Roy Hobbes arrived.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I wore my kilt again for this race. Mainly for ventilation and to shame my mother. This led to a rather urgent chafing injury that resulted in a mid-race visit to the medical tent. I asked for Vaseline. Here again, budget cuts were evident. The volunteers cracked open a beer cooler emblazoned with a red cross. The ice chest was lacking petroleum jelly, but after some brief fondling they came up with a generic KY in a squeeze tube. Hesitant, but desperate I experimented. It worked, but I left in 50 shades of red. My tortured thighs were moving again. If only it had been Astroglide I am sure we could have dropped another 30 seconds per mile. Although creature comforts were scarce, vital medical care was available. We witnessed a down runner receiving an IV administered by medical personnel and the police did a great job protecting the course.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The races proximity to All Hallows Eve scarred up some costumes. The runners and spectators did a fair job of Halloweening. We shared the pavement briefly with some of the Superfriends from the Justice League, a lederhausen clad German fellow, a couple ballerinas and a few thousand Clemson fans in a subtle orange.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Southern Belles.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: large;">Our pacing was spot on. We started losing a bit off of the pace average around mile 11 as mom tired and I ignored common sense and the objections from my left tendon. Just then, I spotted her friend Christie walking a rather nasty uphill section. She is mom's junior by more years than the legal drinking age and has finished ahead of her in every half they have entered. They both conducted themselves as proper southern ladies, curtsying and politely wishing each other their best with gleaming smiles. But I know better, I watched their eyes. Nefarious intent! Christie found new resolve and took off before we had even offered ice tea. So ginned up on the idea of passing her friend, my mom threw caution to the wind and tried to up the pace. With a Herculean effort, I managed to hold her back. We walked the rest of the hill and saved our reserves for the rare downhill ahead. Christie burned up a lot of her remaining energy on that hill and was unable to catch us after we finally passed her about a quarter mile later. A casualty of the high temperature and humidity (and my brilliant pacing), we crossed the finish 59 seconds ahead of mom's running partner. Christie's husband was rumored to have prepared for this race with a long run approaching 6 miles. He finished further back. I don't know how he found the reserves in those temperatures.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Mama's boy.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My favorite part of the Spinx race, the finish includes a quarter mile dash around the outfield of Fluor Field. The home of the AA Greenville Drive baseball team. As you enter from right field, your image is projected onto the jumbotron. Slightly more devious than my mother, I entered on the inside loop and was announced over the loud speaker, "Ryan McCarty from Durham NC." My mom may still be vexed that I stole her thunder. She prevailed in the end. Drunk on glory and Gatorade, my mother charged through me like a base-runner trying to beat the throw to home plate, as I tried to snap a finish picture (honest). She finished in 2:27:38. One full second ahead of me. A second that I am sure will quickly morph into minutes then months over each re-telling until we meet again next year. I enjoyed every second we had together, except for the last one which I obviously ran by myself. I may have to Tonya Harding her until she gains my own enlightened Mahatma Ghandi socialistic running perspective.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_yf1rdtOmQeYl2k-zJjWyBC4n9KEGc5o1YEmJ4h6Byd3g12krwdv4HUpvIcTR6wuwvkbj9E7YzKlxQDLSITaQkUrP74mrB6V53n1hyphenhyphenCk0xF4Ne5xm_R5gDtL6crSRKCSlCj9BpY6wClE/s1600/P1010689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="475" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_yf1rdtOmQeYl2k-zJjWyBC4n9KEGc5o1YEmJ4h6Byd3g12krwdv4HUpvIcTR6wuwvkbj9E7YzKlxQDLSITaQkUrP74mrB6V53n1hyphenhyphenCk0xF4Ne5xm_R5gDtL6crSRKCSlCj9BpY6wClE/s640/P1010689.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Call it a foul tip.</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_8jzYwBKx6_2Ug0bFbDEPKeBXVis6Sb58cBWRwwdk0EWcXHCu0BY2tGen35VPrjhFuMPdqFHeH-4EQNRo_1yQjaWfqSFN_XkALD7CG77kLCleUhFIBl_LAg1MDpmcKmAESNPEWC9X-rDZ/s1600/P1010709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_8jzYwBKx6_2Ug0bFbDEPKeBXVis6Sb58cBWRwwdk0EWcXHCu0BY2tGen35VPrjhFuMPdqFHeH-4EQNRo_1yQjaWfqSFN_XkALD7CG77kLCleUhFIBl_LAg1MDpmcKmAESNPEWC9X-rDZ/s320/P1010709.JPG" width="238" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Dad's post run recovery routine. 1st time my </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">upper </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">body was sore post race.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg16u1lTzhtrIdJCoAHBuwadzz-01fqX9PZNzTBu0tKQZIu1Doy00Xz5Aln6IO3t5aGN0DgH7LvKcyvjQoVFmvt8ImDl-7Y3iRWKbIHOepmS1U3T0FUtuHuesZ9eWfHVRcJo4JsrEQYbnR6/s1600/P1010699.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg16u1lTzhtrIdJCoAHBuwadzz-01fqX9PZNzTBu0tKQZIu1Doy00Xz5Aln6IO3t5aGN0DgH7LvKcyvjQoVFmvt8ImDl-7Y3iRWKbIHOepmS1U3T0FUtuHuesZ9eWfHVRcJo4JsrEQYbnR6/s320/P1010699.JPG" width="238" /></span></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Elvis sighting.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: large;">diatribeTwentyseven</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-28042810582638330842012-10-21T11:04:00.001-07:002012-10-31T17:25:01.446-07:00Oops! ...I Overdid It Again<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">LIGAMENT SPEARED LYRICS</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Oops! ...I Overdid It Again"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I think I Overdid it again</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I made you believe you could fully bend</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Extremity</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Running seems like a rush</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But my limb is just not serious</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Losing all common senses</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Establish trigger points to plague me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Oh leggy, leggy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">[CHORUS:]</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Oops!...I Overdid it again. Stressed my collagen, fear I am maimed,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Oh leggy, leggy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Oops!...You're repaired kind of,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Not ready for trail gloves.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Your too easily spent.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You see my problem is this</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Foam rolling away</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Wish piriformis, could truly stretch</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Cry from nagging torment</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Palpable nodules afflict in many ways</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Losing all common senses</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Establish trigger points to plague me</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Leggy, oh</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">[Repeat CHORUS]</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Aspirin"</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Muscle, before you spasm, there's deactivation to have"</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Oh, it's beautiful, but wait a minute, isn't this...?"</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Yeah, yes it is"</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"But I thought its a week till the Spinx half-marathon in Anderson"</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Well leggy, I bent down and stretched for you"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Oh, you shouldn't have"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Oops!...I Overdid it again, your not smart</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Got lost in Medoc, oh leggy</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Oops!...You try to treat me with kid gloves</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm not that flexible.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeTwentysix</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-86149062666054961142012-10-18T18:26:00.002-07:002012-10-21T11:21:45.827-07:00Medoc Trail Marathon and 10 Miler 2012 Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgskQKXZrTd8i0wB9KNPxknpaKVZLl8uK9Aw1NQE31zHg5tPHHT-7zsqvGiXGTcFQKPUjk3ur1IbK5B8471HaoQdK-8043NdNjVW501vrETHKiQub8_1mt885hUGVdWS-DM9E1fE7DY2FdE/s1600/P1010598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgskQKXZrTd8i0wB9KNPxknpaKVZLl8uK9Aw1NQE31zHg5tPHHT-7zsqvGiXGTcFQKPUjk3ur1IbK5B8471HaoQdK-8043NdNjVW501vrETHKiQub8_1mt885hUGVdWS-DM9E1fE7DY2FdE/s320/P1010598.JPG" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stop eye-balling me.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">5 months 2 weeks post surgery, and finally, a race review. But first, a tangent. I ran the <a href="http://www.medoctrailmarathon.com/" target="_blank">Medoc marathon</a> option last year in peak shape, but missed two gel intakes and suffered a 29 blood sugar near mile 14. I wandered off course and ran face first into a tree. My bib trail name "Hypo Hazard" proved more prophetic than farcical. After inhaling 150 carbohydrates in gels, I slumped on a stump for over 30 minutes fighting the urge to go toward the light. I don't remember much of the final 12 miles, but I did finish. My sub 4 hour goal unrealized, I crossed the line around 4:45. Completely exhausted, it took me over an hour to summon enough energy to drive myself home. You would think such a bonk would leave Medoc permanently on my naughty list, but despite the near death experience, I really enjoyed last year's race. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">It felt befitting to use the site of my biggest blow up to relaunch my running return.</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">So, enough background, after months of cut open ankle photos, nude </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">ellipticaling, and prologuing; a race review.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7KThpEehzS10dN6rV6T-ebug_K3ucmFfoszB_0qKnMcCPhBQdsvwE4JT_kz1fl05BUzHjW2BhqwKGmtD_bykKpt5RZx9IMCw0hqiPwrnHovvCSrmWKFJmfku1qDsO6uYNszRhffLrcmkS/s1600/P1010594.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7KThpEehzS10dN6rV6T-ebug_K3ucmFfoszB_0qKnMcCPhBQdsvwE4JT_kz1fl05BUzHjW2BhqwKGmtD_bykKpt5RZx9IMCw0hqiPwrnHovvCSrmWKFJmfku1qDsO6uYNszRhffLrcmkS/s200/P1010594.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medoc decoy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDEKSkaHHL0KOle2DlTowmF68QreuCHyZHS21H1z3Ojg6ri71A1FQOUqptqYh7-GWHX_qqmXzeFQtfNWAoiNEnst7kBvOdfqNVmoN_K_8DWNnvdXvCwG1k3wvNhcHShf4gAiZN4U_-yd59/s1600/P1010607.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDEKSkaHHL0KOle2DlTowmF68QreuCHyZHS21H1z3Ojg6ri71A1FQOUqptqYh7-GWHX_qqmXzeFQtfNWAoiNEnst7kBvOdfqNVmoN_K_8DWNnvdXvCwG1k3wvNhcHShf4gAiZN4U_-yd59/s200/P1010607.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medoc Radio.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvHwj4gj-KgvkZCJI18-HbdBog49q6_EERacruMYvVzZvgkZwYXszkGBnxH-lXvyOeXipMX9m3JnvdI2L5YiyLMJAXzc3EyFzezFdldB28tEOAumCvUsyV-gBvgZAj0x3LF8Q0rfb-OA2/s1600/P1010603.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvHwj4gj-KgvkZCJI18-HbdBog49q6_EERacruMYvVzZvgkZwYXszkGBnxH-lXvyOeXipMX9m3JnvdI2L5YiyLMJAXzc3EyFzezFdldB28tEOAumCvUsyV-gBvgZAj0x3LF8Q0rfb-OA2/s200/P1010603.JPG" width="147" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medoc night-light.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Medoc Trail Races are unique in that they offer group camping as part of the festivities. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">This presents a real devil's bargain: Do you wake at 3 AM and drive from Raleigh (or farther) into the middle </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">of nowhere? Or do you gain an extra hour of sleep by driving from the nearest hotel with indoor plumbing?</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Of course not, you camp. For those that find fold-out sofa beds</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> sinfully luxurious, the lost art of camping may </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">be for you.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sage advice.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">For you carbo-loaders, there is also a dinner option. As the T1 </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diabetic envoy, I had respectively declined this offering. The menu was too carbohydrate rich for me, </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">consisting mostly of pasta complimented with sides of <u>Applebees</u>. "Eatin' good in the neighborwoods." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">F</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">our group camp sites were offered this year without restriction. If you can find a </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">piece of ground big enough for your tent, its all yours. A word of warning for future </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">racers, campsite 3 is the social campground. I pitched my tent in prime real estate while it was still light outside and relatively rural in the community. I was close to the fire pit, the showers and my truck. Wise in the ways of Medoc camping, Jim and Jade Wei made an impromptu visit for a little fireside camaraderie, then smugly returned to their secret private campsite, rumored to have both Egyptian cotton linens and a flat screen television. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">By 11 PM, the ravers, hippies and hooligans had turned campsite 3 into a discotheque, complete with laser lights, tweekers, bar brawls, and I suspect, sexual malfeasance of some sort. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtq1D1JisCfXO-dwT4KKmimZSdTx2-zjIH18PaALGRNQX85XpJjv5514JosMcsqqL4-LIXkKprkA6FolBHQzxsZMfS67KuMR4VZbMlYaQ4Gy7gmBZPQtNLG949X_ifcRBprx64K9g5KoCK/s1600/P1010606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtq1D1JisCfXO-dwT4KKmimZSdTx2-zjIH18PaALGRNQX85XpJjv5514JosMcsqqL4-LIXkKprkA6FolBHQzxsZMfS67KuMR4VZbMlYaQ4Gy7gmBZPQtNLG949X_ifcRBprx64K9g5KoCK/s320/P1010606.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No Wei. Way! Party time. Excellent.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The race organizers had stopped by with warnings of the latest MEDOC sightings. Luckily, a guitar and a budding vocalist, kept the mythical beast at bay. Obscure folklore dictates acoustic renditions of Katy Perry's compendium lull the savage Medoc. After enjoying the fire, a beverage (Thank you Tennessean Steve Stout, master of both fire and spirit), but before the youths had organized a Gangmam style flash mob, I retreated to the shelter of my truck. The flimsy membrane of my tent was no match for jacked up whipper snappers and an aerial blitzkrieg of falling tree nuts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">With all of the seats down, the maximum 64 inch</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> cargo hold offered by my Ford Escape fit my 68 inch frame like a hot dog in a hamburger bun. Although stuck in a fetal position, I felt secure in my Medoc resistant fortress. The falling tree nuts made a tranquil gonging as they hit the top of the metal roof, which proved an easy melody to drift off to sleep. The 40 degree temps and 5 degree tilt of the laid down seats made for an ideal </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">shelter. If you have the chance, just do it. Running a trail marathon is a challenge to </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">brag about. Running a trail marathon with a hideously contorted body makes you a special </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7CPFkYfbqjZ3AsgAq2RVpiLsFfGb2q9_j2HY42kNAtlmVZ67_tfB_YzbBqPGrEN6bD_ls08QhnLlL3oXf1pYfB2DhjJmSCQel6nrW4jYML2EXSOD6wNBKZpBxBdUwe2SD-ImhZODtiy9C/s1600/P1010608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7CPFkYfbqjZ3AsgAq2RVpiLsFfGb2q9_j2HY42kNAtlmVZ67_tfB_YzbBqPGrEN6bD_ls08QhnLlL3oXf1pYfB2DhjJmSCQel6nrW4jYML2EXSOD6wNBKZpBxBdUwe2SD-ImhZODtiy9C/s400/P1010608.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Race morning Medoc sighting.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENjI7aepvkAoY-HmzilfMPQJRoZSKqTreeWaQEEZog15RchASyS_wEPF9DLHXfL54yL6RWvBC86fJFjzvzXpNDsfwxPfBc0UsaSM8JXXYd4nHwB9ws4FIZo0hH7Peh5dRadEnndil6R2E/s1600/P1010597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENjI7aepvkAoY-HmzilfMPQJRoZSKqTreeWaQEEZog15RchASyS_wEPF9DLHXfL54yL6RWvBC86fJFjzvzXpNDsfwxPfBc0UsaSM8JXXYd4nHwB9ws4FIZo0hH7Peh5dRadEnndil6R2E/s400/P1010597.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I hope this includes insomnia and rheumatism.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">This year my surgeon gave me the green light on the 10 mile option, assuring me everything would be fine as long as I did not twist my ankle. Easy enough on a trail run. I targeted 12 minute miles. In an attempt to avoid any </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">competitive</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> stupidity, I started at the very back of the pack. I was still struggling with removing my sweat shirt after everyone else had cleared the start. I finished my last swig of coffee and lumbered off.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The 10 mile race starts 30 minutes after the marathoners and has about a mile of out and back on the roads to prevent trail pile ups. I had forgotten the NB MT101's I had planned on running in, and was forced to wear my new pair of Merrell Trail Gloves. I am still pretty new to zero drop shoes on the road, so I stayed on the grass shoulder. This helped govern my pace to a more doctor recommended speed. I maintained this reasonable approach for a remarkable 20 minutes, before succumbing to my inner bunny. The sensation of racing trails again felt so good, I immediately disregarded common sense. A dead Garmin 305, left me data-less and more susceptible to reckless behavior. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXAtdKeSpVbxPIHud65duLijZFd0tw04Fct4W6I_bppcGKpBr6NwpHiBF8G708jw1j98wXr0tDVqWEOQAE2dF3_awyufr0gQC_pK1HFLSMAFsINn5HJTf3paSgDeB_cZscP2IlXoawHwFp/s1600/P1010636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXAtdKeSpVbxPIHud65duLijZFd0tw04Fct4W6I_bppcGKpBr6NwpHiBF8G708jw1j98wXr0tDVqWEOQAE2dF3_awyufr0gQC_pK1HFLSMAFsINn5HJTf3paSgDeB_cZscP2IlXoawHwFp/s400/P1010636.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shhh! Linda hears Medoc coming.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I was fortunate to catch Linda Banks around mile 3. She was yet to warm up, as this 10 mile trail race is about 90 miles short of her usual endeavors. We seam to run a lot of the same races, and after a 6 month hiatus it was encouraging to run with a familiar face. We stayed together for a few miles until she tired of my company and faked a shoe tie. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKj5p5_KCk5auLOwPkTsdWoa2KdHd_lFxwQwJg3FEOeV7hyphenhyphenJacSJAxb7VYjcu2DLMQhabW8qheDvnUsJ4kpPTTAICV-HH5Y-6bRow-dXak8mJHkq3hEwGDxVoy8ZH3aeRJrMIKXlOfdXrF/s1600/P1010626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKj5p5_KCk5auLOwPkTsdWoa2KdHd_lFxwQwJg3FEOeV7hyphenhyphenJacSJAxb7VYjcu2DLMQhabW8qheDvnUsJ4kpPTTAICV-HH5Y-6bRow-dXak8mJHkq3hEwGDxVoy8ZH3aeRJrMIKXlOfdXrF/s320/P1010626.JPG" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deanna Ramse finds the finish.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Near mile 5 I made a new friend and then stalked her. Deanna Ramse, also began with a measured start, before upping the pace at the half way mark. I latched on to her and after having failed to shake me over the next mile, she acquiesced to formal introductions. We did drift apart occasionally as she keeps a pretty consistent pace and I still love to fall down hills. But for the most part we stayed together. We pushed each other, and I ended up finishing much faster than 4 out of 5 doctors agree to be reasonable. We passed quite a few runners over the last 3 miles and I would guestimate a well below 9 minute mile pace.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggTEsWy-GO5gaf2zgJ6m4WrqEqkI-ZBCXCyIV8gkjeUsq56tDqV5Q8WfIpo9rY1NU-RJ9XRoME3_YaqdDBxe1-toLPybBlHNbL8mqoCl-nOl8HGM6S_MkU7USzsBuuUri-YLv06OBamtAi/s1600/P1010619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggTEsWy-GO5gaf2zgJ6m4WrqEqkI-ZBCXCyIV8gkjeUsq56tDqV5Q8WfIpo9rY1NU-RJ9XRoME3_YaqdDBxe1-toLPybBlHNbL8mqoCl-nOl8HGM6S_MkU7USzsBuuUri-YLv06OBamtAi/s320/P1010619.JPG" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beats rehabbing by a dam site.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Two miles over my longest post-surgical run, I was fading as we approached the end of the trail. I could hear the crowd at the finish near the top of the hill and slowed to a walk to gather my reserves, so as to look cool in front of the cheering spectators. I had gained a few steps on Deanna, and softie that she is, she encouraged me on with a tap on the back and a "your almost there." I promised her I would catch up. Spurred on by the siren sounds of the crowd, I let her accelerate toward her certain destruction. Little did she know that at Medoc when you exit the trail and hit the greenway, the finish is still 2 dogleg rights away. I started running again, before the people could see me, and kicked at the first right turn, leaving about 200 yards. What some call dirty pool, I call prior Medoc experience. I was able to catch Deanna, as promised, and pass 2 runners less then 25 feet from the finish, jaunting me into the 23rd place of 25 in my age group. I ended up with a 10:48 pace average, well bellow my target, and just fast enough to feel slightly recovered. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicjPVAl4SzLJWXpRu2T1i3Cs3gulVrh0aLn2QYZaY7Ri_0jgQ4rc-XuLqIwK4McKfmqTEgMdEskcXbpPhhzXBJ-_GpS9dhztK740jcbk4tIUdcjirxzeMfHCtUPrAJdizsUbDJhI2vv_sU/s1600/P1010639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicjPVAl4SzLJWXpRu2T1i3Cs3gulVrh0aLn2QYZaY7Ri_0jgQ4rc-XuLqIwK4McKfmqTEgMdEskcXbpPhhzXBJ-_GpS9dhztK740jcbk4tIUdcjirxzeMfHCtUPrAJdizsUbDJhI2vv_sU/s320/P1010639.JPG" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top 3 overall.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I finished in time to see the specter, Tim Surface, finish the trail marathon in an unholy </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">2:41:01. A new Medoc record. Running friend, Dan Bedard, (more like post run drinking cohort, as he runs faster </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">than I bike) finished in 3rd and invited me back to the group campsites for refreshments. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">We were joined by 2 of the age group winners from the 10 miler. I took this rare </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">opportunity to learn the secrets of the fleet of feet. They were all tired and unobservant </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">so no one noticed that I was not an indoctrinated member of their speedy tribe. They spoke </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">freely. Unbound by their secret by-laws and rituals, I will now reveal their 3 core tenets. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">First their recovery is fueled by pickles and hot peppers. To date, the USATF</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">, is unable to effectively drug test for any of the major </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">pickled products. Their second secret is a recovery beverage dubbed PBR (my guess is </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><u>P</u>robably <u>B</u>eer <u>R</u>eally), a substance I was unable to positively identify as it was shielded </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">by a red plastic cup. The third principle, </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">"Run faster". This mantra covers both training and </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">racing. After this is fully understood (a process that takes many years), students of the </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">quick, graduate to "Don't slow down". </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0FMVxyk7LBJ_ult7H2zn-YASKCtH3XPLcdr7AZDIp7X3fCgn4JcsTaq9qCpR-zvPVI7A5HZkhOfdcAj589LRTNJaiEv4Jaog2dJV7T5qXky8dmrjELA_wxDUA_9hiHVn3f5pZfIUw1VDp/s1600/P1010633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0FMVxyk7LBJ_ult7H2zn-YASKCtH3XPLcdr7AZDIp7X3fCgn4JcsTaq9qCpR-zvPVI7A5HZkhOfdcAj589LRTNJaiEv4Jaog2dJV7T5qXky8dmrjELA_wxDUA_9hiHVn3f5pZfIUw1VDp/s320/P1010633.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bling.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My blood sugar finally dropped to refueling levels, so I headed back to the pavilion to greet the finishers I knew and eat normally forbidden foods. In addition to the usual post-race fare, the volunteers offered a great rice and beans with plenty of salt and bags of cheerios, candy corn and peanuts labeled Medoc mix. I appreciated the gallons of hot coffee too. Medoc takes pride in being a race by runners, for runners and uses the novel approach of spending entry fees on those in the race. Nice shirts, good eats, and this year's surprise finisher's swag was a Medoc branded Nathan hand held water bottle. The finisher medals looked spectacular. One of the three best races in the triangle area. The trails are moderate and the support is top notch. Thank you for another great race Medoc team.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scott Lynch adds to my Napolean comlex with his full<br />
sized marathon finisher's medal.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I watched a lot of my old compadres finish the full over the next few hours. All of whom are looking very fast from my perspective. I am close to being compatible for a long slow run with some of them, but I have a good ways to go to regain my former millage. I experienced a lot more of this race than I usually do. It was a privilege just to run it, and my new status, as born again newbie allowed me to just take it in. I was not caught up in shaving seconds off my mid-pack pace. I just enjoyed the gift of a beautiful day at a terrific race with some great peeps. I have never had a better pre-race stomach. I briefly considered kimchi for breakfast. Its going to be a long while before I surpass my old speeds, and I could not be happier.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brandy Burns trail rash.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSBL5-7cBN3MW1W3SumFQ46cq5AdWdcGuKNH0yTRiBarAdd5hB0X2jKcKvN7ESHknoczVVQ124Kf_q_X_lSi7sGwDTAW4dY-lC4AK2bgVFquPL0-bWI6l-IbQom7zxYfusdZtHkhhAh9d-/s1600/P1010634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSBL5-7cBN3MW1W3SumFQ46cq5AdWdcGuKNH0yTRiBarAdd5hB0X2jKcKvN7ESHknoczVVQ124Kf_q_X_lSi7sGwDTAW4dY-lC4AK2bgVFquPL0-bWI6l-IbQom7zxYfusdZtHkhhAh9d-/s320/P1010634.JPG" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
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On a scale of 10, Linda 's knee pain is 3.141592653589.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steve, Jim, Ryan.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brandy's Medoc impersonation.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Susan makes me glad I stopped at 10.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Its hard work staying this pretty, but hot<br />
showers post-race are a big help.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-pBcD_3Jog95dqaEw47smh8ttp4dZt8SmbFCv97GvtYA1lQqZfcbR2uOgK6peRAKDgngxbUDt-ExFx0g5lc8BsNs2nLiUh25_ZPxYElyNmNAAOWF-3vuUMAImZhSYxMAEl7qDoRIa2_Qc/s1600/medoc2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-pBcD_3Jog95dqaEw47smh8ttp4dZt8SmbFCv97GvtYA1lQqZfcbR2uOgK6peRAKDgngxbUDt-ExFx0g5lc8BsNs2nLiUh25_ZPxYElyNmNAAOWF-3vuUMAImZhSYxMAEl7qDoRIa2_Qc/s400/medoc2.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">6 months post surgery.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw8sOjDba3FVxnRf8oXGPsHgSYgWy4FlWe_0gwSnBUIbITdseOBzeCt6QyxuXU1xdNohX-gJ7IOIo8aKsn85VE8elgCIMTuG2ErcfyJtTF3mlWVewzWq6tHrHbfAytmHCgva_MzV4efybu/s1600/medoc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw8sOjDba3FVxnRf8oXGPsHgSYgWy4FlWe_0gwSnBUIbITdseOBzeCt6QyxuXU1xdNohX-gJ7IOIo8aKsn85VE8elgCIMTuG2ErcfyJtTF3mlWVewzWq6tHrHbfAytmHCgva_MzV4efybu/s640/medoc.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic stolen from Facebook.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeTwentyfive</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-68655590930377635362012-09-17T12:11:00.001-07:002012-09-17T12:11:41.815-07:00Keeping up with my Mom, almost<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The genes are similar, but my facial drag makes this match-up unfair.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Surgery +23 weeks. My mother came to visit me for her birthday this weekend. She pretended that a visit to my house would be relaxing and a nice break from the daily hustle of work. She said she missed me and had not visited for awhile. I know better. She came to run me into the ground. She came for payback. I talked her into the Camp Croft trail 1/2 marathon for our annual race in 2011. She trained on sidewalks in South Carolina and I trained in Umstead on Company Mill trail. She had never run single track and I let her run it in street trainers. We scouted the course the day previous to the race and found a lovely park trail 3 feet wide and paved with bunny fur. I assured her it would be fine. I helped her calculate her pace. We were conservative and targeted for a time 10 minutes faster than her most recent street 1/2 marathon PR.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The Camp Croft 1/2 start ran right past the bunny fur lined trail and dumped us on a bridle trail last maintenanced before I made the switch to solid foods. As soon as I decided she would be ok on it, we switched to non-stop singletrack cut into a mountain, imported specially for the race. My mother's training had peaked at a 14 mile long run 3 weeks prior on a sidewalk tracing HWY 81. Near mile 1, and with large unblinking honest eyes, I told the sweet woman who gave birth to me that she would be fine. That race almost broke her. At the finish, she looked a little like Rocky after 15 rounds with Apollo in the first film. She finished on will power and had nothing left in the tank. She had IT Band issues for months after the race. And just like in a Rocky film, she rebuilt herself stronger and hungry for another bout. She was pretty much back to her normal millage and race schedule when I had my tendon repair.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just yuck.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">As I lay on my back following surgery, my mother montaged. I elevated my foot to combat swelling, she jumped rope. I dragged my booted foot to the kitchen, she moved to Siberia and ran through 2 foot thick snow. Short one arm for balance, I learned to shower with one hand, she did one handed push-ups. I heard she raced on a beach in sweat pants. I know she chased a chicken. I am pretty sure she was drinking raw eggs from a jelly jar. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">She waited until I got my long run back up to 6.5 miles and, then unable to hold back vengeance any longer, she pounced. Under the clever guise of a birthday, my dear mother who dried my tears as a child, arrived ready for her 11 miler in Umstead. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">We parked at the new equestrian lot and were able to run a piece of almost every bridle path. I wore an Umstead marathon shirt to intimidate her. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I made it 8 miles before throwing in the towel. We finished back at the lot and she ran the 1 mile one-way loop 3 times to finish her long run. My mom, who helped me with homework for years, literally ran 3 victory laps as I walked a cool down in the opposite direction. I have 5 weeks until we run the Spinx half marathon in Greenville, SC together. I have decided to beat her. I am going to cheat. I am thinking about using feral Whippets for shoes? Perhaps an ACME jet-pack? If she is the Rocky character, I guess that makes me Apollo. How did he make out long term anyway?</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They are trying to resuscitate me directly behind the fire engine. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">It was great finally getting up to 8 miles. It was fantastic to have great company. I love running with my mother. While training, we have talked about the most significant aspects of life and sometimes the most inane. Sometimes at the same time. We live pretty far apart. I realize how lucky we are for these few opportunities and try to enjoy them to the fullest. This run was 65 degrees and nearly perfect. As an insulin dependent diabetic at this distance, I have to pack a lot of gear. And bonus, my mother is a T1 diabetic too. As veterans of handi-capable running we can carry enough insulin, testing supplies, and fast acting carbohydrates to equip a small country hospital in a belt the size of a tube sock. It can get a bit noisy as you rattle down hills, but somehow we still saw 2 deer on maintenance road. We fjorded the water at Cedar Creek. And then read the warning on the other side advising us of the 90,000 gallons of spilled sewage upstream. We shared the coldest low carb beer I can remember after her victory laps. A pretty perfect day, at my favorite place to run, with my mom, the woman who ran me into the ground.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom stopped to pose as she lapped me.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">We had so much fun, we came back the next day to hike Sycamore trail in the rain. Happy birthday Mom!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeTwentyfour</span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-44014737974802788242012-09-09T19:14:00.002-07:002012-09-09T19:20:44.241-07:00Yowza Sanibel elliptical review<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fonzy bear proudly presents: Yowza Yowza Yowza!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I find it a wee bit ironic that my first running equipment review is for an elliptical, but I have compelling reasons. Primarily, to date, I am incapable of spelling elliptical. After retyping every red underlined misspelling for the next hour, I expect to place in my age group at this year's Scripps National Spelling Bee; obscure workout equipment bracket. Secondarily, I read a lot of reviews in my search for the perfect elliptical by elliptical salesmen, elliptical saleswomen, elliptical mechanics, and elliptical aficionados. I found very few critiques from a runner's perspective and none from an injured runner, rehabbing an injury and bravely fighting crippling handsomeness. I have decided to fill this small void in an attempt to perfect the internet and to pad my resume as an unpaid, less than celebrity endorser. The site I found most helpful appears to be pretty neutral <a href="http://allellipticals.com/">allellipticals.com</a> as long as you agree ellipticals are awesome.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My <a href="http://www.yowzafitness.com/Ellipticals/Sanibel" target="_blank">Yowza Sanibel elliptica</a>l arrived the first week of May, 2012, allowing me to test it for just over 4 months. Yowza was launched with a factory direct business model by a former Smooth fitness hireling. The promotional hype says this allows you to get more value as you don't pay for advertising and middlemen. The advertising part is definitely true. I found this manufacturer only after delving deep into internet reviews. I never found their products in the stores I included in my search. I quickly discovered that whomever you buy from, your guaranteed to save at least 50% because this industry routinely lists all of their product msrps at double the selling price. I never found an elliptical selling at full price. I think the elliptical sales model may have been directly adopted from an Iranian bizarre. Try demanding the infidel price. The Sanibel model I purchased lists as $3999.00, but is always on sale for $1799.00. I monitored the site for over a month and found the price to occasionally drop to $1499.00. With my purchase, I negotiated with the factory direct salesman. He offered me a mat for the unit and either free financing or a $100 discount. I asked to think it over and called back 5 days later. We agreed upon $1399.00, free mat, 6 months interest free financing and a Polar heart rate monitor that wirelessly links to the unit.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yowza Sanibel, a medical device for injured runners.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">This was a very large outlay for me financially. After reviewing the math, I have to elliptical 5596 miles to get the same value I get from my running shoes. Breaks down to about 58.3 days of use ellipticaling 24 hours per day. Of course, I will have to elliptical barefoot so as not to wear out shoes and increase the per mile ellipticaling price. That is a bit too sweaty and kind of gross, as the their are no drains on the foot pedals, so I will have to wear socks, but I am not including the costs of said socks, because I am bored enough to blog, but not bored enough to continue to do 8th grade math story problems for you. If you are that bored I usually elliptical in <a href="http://www.amazon.com/injinji-Performance-Original-Toesocks-Rainbow/dp/B001QCN3KA/ref=sr_1_9?ie=UTF8&qid=1347234436&sr=8-9&keywords=injinji" target="_blank">injinji</a> toe socks currently priced at $14.00. I expect to use 1.36 pairs over the indicated 58.3 day time frame. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not as fun as running Turkey Creek, but better AC.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I wanted an elliptical to help me rehab. After my peroneal brevis repair surgery, I was allowed to elliptical after only 6 weeks. I was not supposed to run any distance for 3 months. I can replicate a runner's heart rate on an elliptical easier than on a bike. And it just feels like a closer representation to a running motion than when I am hunched over handle bars. The gained 6 weeks were not enough to justify the purchase, but I had also made a solemn vow not to tear any more tendons when I resumed my running schedule. My over trained weak tendons were accessories in the ankle roll that severed my brevis. To this end, I lowered my 5 days per week running schedule to 3 days. I plan on using the elliptical's low impact characteristics to fill the subtracted 2 days. For me it also isolates the quads and the glutes, muscles opposite of the calves and hamstrings that long distance running tends to over develop. Keeps things pretty balanced.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I picked the Sanibel for a couple of features I could not find at this price point in other models.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">It is roller-less. I don't want to grease rails or replace rollers. I want to treat this like my running gear by throwing it in a sweaty pile next to the washing machine and then expecting performance after a quick cleaning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">It has electromagnetic breaking. Less moving parts and quieter. I don't want to strain trying to listen to Sonny's diatribe on <u>General Hospital</u>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">It uses a Counter Rotational Core Motion. Instead of 2 arms, it has 2 T-bars that are in opposite cadence to your legs. If you choose to use it your core is assaulted. This motion is patented and specific to the Yowza manufacturer. It could be a draw back if you rely on the typical arms of an elliptical. I usually use the stationary bars with a 1 finger grip, so as to look cool and slightly disinterested when in the gym, like a Frenchman smoking outside the Cannes film festival. I have incorporated the T bars and have almost eliminated sit-ups throughout the week. It works very well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">It has rear drive. To me this feels closer to a running motion than a front drive unit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Max weight is 400 lbs. I doubt this, more like 300. It feels very stable with my 160 on it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Features that commonly cross over into other units at this price point include:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">ipod doc. I am surprised how much I use this feature.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">fan with direction blade. I am not surprised how much I use this. Nice feature.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Polar heart strap wirelessly indicated on display with calorie count. I am a data freak and happy to have another set of numbers to look at when <u>General Hospital</u> has a commercial on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Water bottle holder to hold my remote control.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">16 resistance levels. A lot like <u>Spinal Tap</u>'s speakers that peak at 11, it comes down to easy enough, medium enough, hard enough. I typically ride it at 9 and am in risk of heart attack at 13, so it has 3 more levels than it needs to kill me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">21 inch stride. Even at 5'8" I think a runnercentric customer must have a 21 inch stride. Anything under 20 is shuffling, but does allow for you to elliptical in a bathrobe. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Digital console. Probably the weakest feature. The display is adequate. It resembles Spock's science console or maybe an expensive Japanese toilet controller. Its space-agy in a 1985 kind of way. I do scan calories, speed, heart rate occasionally, but usually I am watching netflix on my ipod. The layout works, but the blue lights are a bit much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Assembly was reasonable. It took me 55 minutes and only 3 colorful metaphors. Full disclosure, I am a machine technician by trade. Make sure the bolts on the front arms are tight, but not overly tightened. At 236 pounds, your wife must be home to help you get it up the stairs to your office/workout room. The weight does make it feel nice and sturdy and its svelte when compared to my commercial treadmill that weighs in at 383. Components are steal and powder coated. Its footprint is reasonable and I think it would fit in a standard room with a queen sized bed. It has handles and two front wheels making it easy to move around. It is the sexy color of a hospital bed which allows it to fade into the background and not outshine the <a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?hl=en&sa=X&rlz=1C1LENN_enUS457US457&biw=1517&bih=666&tbm=isch&prmd=imvns&tbnid=zHG0gGJ5u1Cg2M:&imgrefurl=http://forestry.about.com/b/2011/11/23/your-next-christmas-tree-consider-norfolk-island-pine.htm&docid=xpc1f5EIu7fYVM&imgurl=http://z.about.com/d/forestry/1/0/j/l/norfolk_island_pine.jpg&w=366&h=466&ei=LDhNUJ__FYuY9QSLkoDICQ&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=184&vpy=302&dur=3047&hovh=253&hovw=198&tx=90&ty=202&sig=118419110663086935318&page=1&tbnh=157&tbnw=126&start=0&ndsp=16&ved=1t:429,r:8,s:0,i:147" target="_blank">Norfolk Pine</a> in the corner. I had an issue with an overly tight bolt and contacted customer service. It took almost 3 days for me to get an email response. The phone technician was efficient, which is to say he was helpful without mentioning the weather. They offered to send another bolt and receiver if the instructions they emailed did not fix the issue. (the instructions worked)</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I like to open the windows and elliptical nude. Keeps the gangsta rap down outside as nobody will voluntarily park in front of my house. If over 18 <i><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?num=10&hl=en&rlz=1C1LENN_enUS457US457&biw=1517&bih=666&tbm=isch&tbnid=A1nTkJWVuuz-sM:&imgrefurl=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_(Michelangelo)&docid=ETuxRm3TJ1Xr-M&imgurl=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/d5/David_von_Michelangelo.jpg/200px-David_von_Michelangelo.jpg&w=200&h=382&ei=bExNUMOCCJTU8wSHu4CYBQ&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=173&vpy=131&dur=833&hovh=305&hovw=160&tx=103&ty=170&sig=118419110663086935318&sqi=2&page=1&tbnh=137&tbnw=65&start=0&ndsp=31&ved=1t:429,r:0,s:0,i:139" target="_blank">click link for uncensored version.</a></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I am pretty sure I got one of the best deals available to the private consumer with this elliptical (which I still can not spell without a red underline). I also considered the Sole E55, Smooth CE 8.0LC, and the Precor refurbished commercial units. Anyone who appreciates the stability of running while intoxicated after a head injury will value an elliptical. If you are honestly considering dropping near 1500 greenbacks for a low impact hamster wheel, this one will not disappoint you. On a personal note, I now use it routinely to bring down any unexpected blood sugar spikes after dinner. Even on a long run day, the 20 minutes required to bring down a spike is not too hard on already spent legs. I find that on any elliptical my feet routinely go to sleep after an hour. I have avoided this by limiting my exposure to 59 minutes at a time. Go buy one, or go buy 14 pairs of Merrell Trail Gloves, or 1400 McDouble cheeseburgers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeTwentythree</span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-3553274642327399362012-08-12T18:21:00.000-07:002012-09-09T18:05:25.325-07:00Umstead unbooted<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> -- Scott Lynch quoting Henry David Thoreau's </span><u style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;">Walden</u><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bit faster than white trash, slightly sexier than a hobbit.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Surgery + 16 weeks. I was finally cleared to begin running again. Happily, I am over it now and have instead decided to launch a new exercise regimen as a Nathan's Famous hot dog eating contest champion. Eating 45 hot dogs in 10 minutes burns hundreds of calories. Further introspection and my wife's sage counsel reminded me, that I can not afford another line of hobby clothing. My current collection of technical shirts repel perspiration very well, but are not highly rated for the thicker mustards commonly paired with hot dogs. And, in an ambitious but not well thought out attempt to outshine Imelda R. Marcos, I have been adding to my running shoe collection at an obscene rate. Nobody buys more running swag than the injured and grounded.</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I felt there should be more blurring in this picture. Scott must<br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">In the 4 weeks since my last post, I have enacted a plan to join the ranks of those with strong feet and crazy opinions. As I have to start from near ground zero, I decided to convert to barefoot running and later after cultivating decent form, minimal shoes. When I rolled my ankle and ripped the Brevis, I was running in minimalish NB MT101s, Nike Frees, and Saucony Kinvaras. Following the blogs of <a href="http://www.running-down.com/" target="_blank">AC</a>, <a href="http://www.barefootjosh.com/" target="_blank">BF Josh</a>, <a href="http://www.maplegrovebarefootguy.com/" target="_blank">Maple Grove BF Guy</a>, and <a href="http://derscott.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Der Scott</a>, obsessed with minimal footware from internet clearance sales, and for the sheer joy of freaking out my endocrinologist I see for diabetes, I began a barefoot strengthening program. Over the last month of recovery I completed 2 walks a week barefoot. I started on the sidewalks around my house and worked my way up to 5.75 miles over many different terrains. Last week I started wearing <a href="http://www.kigofootwear.com/drive.asp" target="_blank">Kigo Drive</a>'s to work every day with the inserts removed.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This delicate pin striping on the ankle de-emphasizes the stubbiness of the foot.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">All this sole preparation laid the foundation for my first run back from the invalid purgatory that is rehab. Der Scott volunteered to brave the mad distance of just over one mile at insane speeds of very near 5 mph to welcome me back to the sport that killed Pheidippides and is often unkind to nipples. We met at the Harrison side of Umstead and hiked 4 miles of Loblolly, before braving the paved technical road that runs by the ranger's residence. We finished without incident and I completed my first run after surgery barefoot. It was over just faster than a Peter Frampton song. There was wind, elevated heart rate, lightly increased breathing, a slight bouncing, a whiff of endorphin; experiences unattainable on a walk. It was magical.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Risk evaluation: Immediate feedback and low dorsiflexion<br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My pre-surgery millage is months, maybe over a year away, but today I stood at the base of that millage mountain. Just 6 months ago this rate of progress would be a total failure and I would have had the elevation, heart rate, distance chart to prove it. Today, it marked the beginning journey of a, I think, wiser runner. I hope to protect my ankle with a lighter strike that forefooting provides. Somebody called me boom boom at Uhwarrie as I was descending a hill and destroying the local environment and likely my body. My goal now is to distance myself from that tag. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Surgery +17 weeks ushered in my first 2 mile run (in Newton gravitys). 192 BPM (it was the humidity, I swear). Two 1 mile treadmill runs sans shoes this week. And a nice 6 mile hike (last 3 miles barefoot and a .5 mile run). I was able to join my work compadre Chris for the hike and mini run. A man of questionable politics, but with a very fetching bald head and a stride of ridiculous proportions, he has adopted a healthy diet and commenced a new exercise regime. He is tall enough for me to call him Bolt. I was very pleased to have his company and share his outlooks. He saw Umstead State Park for the first time today. I felt privileged with the opportunity to share my favorite place. We hiked Sycamore and even ran in the last 1/2 mile. I think he might be hooked. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How to turn 1 mile into an Ultra.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeTwentytwo</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-71077692998271770592012-07-02T07:38:00.000-07:002012-07-02T07:38:52.483-07:00Maybe Me Medoc. Maybe?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boo! Scary scarry pic.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">12 Weeks post surgery or 3 months for your minimalists. The surgeon tested out my strut assembly and wheel alignment at week 11. He was extremely pleased with my results to date and showed off my range of motion to a medical student. The med student did a fair job faking extreme interest. I went into this appointment hoping for the green light to begin a modest run/walk program. The doctor encouraged me: not to be an idiot. I can start at the four month mark. August 4th by my math. On that day I will open up the throttle and after a 1 mile walking warm up I plan to explode back into running by run/walking (2 minute run: 5 minute walk, repeat x 3) for an entire mile. I am positive I will need some kind of new equipment to help me accomplish such a blistering pace. I plan to start searching at Bull City running for frill soon.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">12 weeks post surgery.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Starting on the 4th gives me 10 weeks to get ready for the Medoc 10 miler, 12 weeks for the Spinx 1/2 marathon. I have charted, cutted, pasted, xcelled, divined, and searched the stars to determine that I will definitely be able to probably finish. Just like Sex Panther cologne. "They've done studies, you know. 60% of the time, it works everytime." Medoc fits well as a comeback. I ran the marathon option near the peak of my fitness last year. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.tarriverrunning.com/" target="_blank">Stolen from Tar River Running Company</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My A goal was 9 min miles for an easy under 4 hour finish. Very fast for a trail marathon for me. I was on track at the halfway point, but at mile 14 I had a blood sugar crash. Caught up in the race, I missed consuming 2 gels at the one hour and 1.5 hour mark. I became confused and ran off the course, struck a tree and finally realized I was in jeopardy. My blood sugar was 29. A new record for me. A reading that low is rather dangerous. A victim can convulse, lose consciousness, or die with numbers not much further south. And it is exhausting. Medoc encourages runners to pick a trail name to be printed on there number. A quark of fate, I had picked HypoHazard. My friend and personal medic of the day Tony Bennett, dropped me extra gels when he passed and ascertained that like Gloria Gaynor I would survive. I sat on a stump and consumed 6 gels, near 150 carbs (more than I generally consume in an entire day). After a 35 minute furlough I fought my way through the last 12 miles. I managed to continue forward with Scott Lynch for awhile and Jim Wei distracted me through the worst of the miles. I managed to finish under 5 hours, but was physically demolished. I had to rest for an hour in my car before I could manage the drive home. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">This is Medoc's 5 year anniversary and the 10 mile option sounds like a great way to get my feet wet (hopefully with perspiration or a stream, not blood and gore). And after last year's debacle and missed goal, merely finishing this year would be a triumph. My best case scenario; not to be passed by any Marathoners. I am talking to you Dan Bedard. If I am lapped I am not above piggy-backing, or tripping and hair-pulling. My physical therapist thinks its doable, but just. I am not too worried I think MEDOC used to practice medicine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I promise a race review as I return my focus to running, because everyone wants more running blogs to read. Until then, 12 week symptom check: 158 lbs, still swelling after weight bearing, scar tissue moderate, still entirely numb over the malleolus, peroneal brevis sore, lots of popping in foot, realistic amounts of pain in the peroneals. Walking up to 3.5 miles currently (barefoot), 45 minutes on the elliptical, getting better at standing on my hands when using a door for balance. My attitude is more positive. I made a training plan for both Medoc and Spinx 1/2 today! Calf size discrepancy still noticeable to me, but when I leave the house children are no longer laughing and pointing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">As of this publishing Medoc has sold out the 10 miler, 81% full for the marathon. Go sign up. This is one of the acorn capital area's best. Medoc trail marathon 2012.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeTwentyone</span><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-82477454326070607502012-06-20T16:28:00.000-07:002012-06-20T16:28:22.367-07:00Ellipticals and Rubber bands<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">8 weeks. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">8 through 10 weeks post surgical repair. I started this blog to detail my journey from average couch potato to T1 diabetic to oldest Olympic bronze medal winner. I did not choose gold. I am humble and not deluded, a realist and I think you should be honest with yourself. The gold would come with too much press and I value a little privacy. And silver just does't compliment my complexion well. Bronze really highlights my sun spots and the gentle lines at the corner of my eyes. I was also motivated to prove that any hardship can be powered through with brute determination and an iron will. I was very surprised that this was not an original idea. More than 80% of runners use running to deal with some sort of hardship. (I just made that number up and there is very little my old school newspaper editor can do about it.) And they all focus their determination into moving on, through, or over their personal obstacles. I have run with bypass patients, ex-heart attacks, cancer survivors, griever's of lost loved ones, partial amputees, formerly overweight, presently overweight, recently divorced, fighting addictions, and many other general casualties of life. Everyone is dealing with something and most of its major. Instead of inspiring the unfortunates with my limitless pluckiness, I found that I had joined a mobile support group. I have been inspired by some really special people over my 3 year distance career.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We shared my bed for 2 weeks. It's not me, It's you.<br />Goodbye boot.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The last month of recovery has been very hard on me. My genes are good friends with low grade depression and my chromosomes only encourage the bastards. One month after starting this blog, I was recounting more physiology than race reviews. I really miss the interaction with the 7 or 8 running clubs, groups, and loosely confederated crazies I was drafting off of on the roads and trails. I have substituted other exercises and stayed in pretty good shape. My upper body has benefited from some attention and my running crafted bulimic nervosa, heroin junkie on a fast body build has morphed into a bulkier well balanced golfer type physique. I am no longer able to get into the movies on a child's ticket. But nothing replaces the joy an hour's worth of Umstead's Company Mill trail provided or the camaraderie of an insanely early Saturday morning jaunt with the Galloways. But at 10 weeks out now and although my reserves have been drained, I hope I am well past the half way point toward my first post op run. I am casting off my funk and focusing on the near future. I wanted to be honest about this recovery as I linked to the Runner's World forum on peroneal repair and tens of people maybe following. I found a lot of information on people getting ready for surgery and some on people fully recovered 18 months later, but very little on the middle. I have found this part to be the most challenging. I have a scarlet <strike>letter</strike> number (a 26.2) tattooed onto a sad little calf. That irony describes this time perfectly.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ministry of silly walks.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">If my recovery was portrayed cinematically, (and full disclosure, I am in late stage negotiations with the home shopping network for my own reality series) these weeks would be blurred together with a Kanye West's <u>Stronger</u> or maybe Corey Hart's <u>Sunglasses at Night</u> montage as I drank eggs, ran up escalators, and waxed on and off Mr. Miaggi's old jalopys. We really should develop better recovery technology. I have been closely monitoring TV, but have yet found a pill that will make your ankle solid for more than 4 hours. In reality, my day to day progress could be measured with a caliper. Even though, I am very far ahead of the typical post surgery timeline, I keep comparing my status with last year's abilities. At this juncture I am walking barefoot (thickening up the skin) up to 2.5 miles every 2 to 3 days and cross training with weights and the elliptical. The ankle swelling is pretty severe after the walk or just standing for 8-10 hours, but recedes within 48 hours. Strangely, the limited weight bearing of the elliptical has a positive effect on ankle bloat. I have been able to peak my heart rate at 90% of max.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I have my next Orthopedic meeting in 5 days. I would love to get the green light for a run/walk program. I am signed up for the Spinx 1/2 October 27. I would love to do the 10 miler at Medoc two weeks before the 1/2. Its hard for me to fathom completing those distances when walking a 5k results in a major cankle. For now, I am evaluating pillow balancing on 1 leg against stretchy band wrestling as my final Olympic discipline.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeTwenty</span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-50712850955632424102012-05-26T16:41:00.004-07:002012-05-26T16:41:57.094-07:00This way to accessible adventures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Membership has its privileged.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Week 5. When the going gets tough the debilitated bug out to California. Over the last week, my careening gate improved enough to surpass the fine tuned surefooted balance of a baby giraffe. We applied the standard COPS field sobriety test to scientifically evaluate my abilities and my wife affirmed my travel visa for a road trip. We had purchased non-refundable airline tickets some months ago. I remain convinced that travel insurance is a government/big business/Freemasonry conspiracy. Or could be I am very slightly <strike>economical</strike> cheapish. Travel insurance will run you the same price as a new pair of Newton's Gravity series kicks. I prefer to cover the risks myself and buy the shoes. It would have been a travesty to exchange the pre-paid trip for a week's worth of <u>Judge Judy</u> and <u>Jerry Springer</u> episodes. I had to break out of my <strike>cell</strike> house. So, I pitched the adventure as the proof I needed to convince the doctors to sign my work release papers. They cleared me for any movement in the boot to pain tolerance. I posited if my brevis could drive 5 hours a day and waddle through tourist traps and picturesque trails, my tendon was ready to carry me back to work. With the mobile boot replacing the cast, I wanted to test the mobile part. And true dat homes, my west coast hip hop skills were in decline. Some true chillin in Compton (or safer and more handicap accessible areas nearby)was just what I needed. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My most ill advised adventure of the trip. Water runs uphill? Magnetism is reversed? Laws of Gravity are suspended?<br />Morons with bad ankles lose their mind?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guess which one my boot resembles?<br />Hint: Its very itchy, smells funny, <br /> and is NOT attractive. It may have given<br />me a rash.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">In the week following the cast removal and preceding our flight, I increased my long <strike>walk</strike> limp up to 2.5 miles at a blistering 2.1 mph pace. The boot really improved my mobility and started to engage some of the lower leg muscles, but kept the ankle securely locked into a stationary position. I was directed to sleep in the 9 lb aggravation until my next appointment. The velcro neoprene monstrosity is as large as a small person and made my bed look like a <u>Fleetwood Mac</u> <u>Rolling Stone</u> cover. And its probably just as sanitary. My right leg was bulking up from all of the one leg hopping bathroom drills. But the wonderful perks! I was issued a temporary passport to the glamorous and privileged lifestyle of those requiring additional time to board. With a boot, small limp, and a brave face I copied from Tiny Tim in <u>A Christmas Carol</u> Delta twice waived their $40 seat change fees, moving us up to the bulkhead seats. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">California Vehicle Code Section 22511.5(b)allows out-of-state handicap placards to be used for parking and the state parks had more reserved parking then my Orthopedic's office. And to top it off, every third person we passed on every trail we attempted let me know I was "awesome bro."</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfEW5UHTqX5aaHaIBSFF-Ob4yiE-QAcAzCMMXenUEE7gBcxnpsymFRFQAH3Epn4CN4B_dX3UZ4QL0rCMBlVKnoTvlV54ZkL8VVaHjsq51CAKpv3QJqbHLE9nxCXvV3mCV5ZhB69wS8Q3uS/s1600/IMG_6191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfEW5UHTqX5aaHaIBSFF-Ob4yiE-QAcAzCMMXenUEE7gBcxnpsymFRFQAH3Epn4CN4B_dX3UZ4QL0rCMBlVKnoTvlV54ZkL8VVaHjsq51CAKpv3QJqbHLE9nxCXvV3mCV5ZhB69wS8Q3uS/s640/IMG_6191.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Number 1 cause of injury in a Redwood forest, slipping on a banana slug. Watch your footing.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrgzX9Yl8NNliGLTwxxb8-tx2J6yTuTbhb2HyB2hVxgbMbM0Oi7idcPKfTBzD7G8tgHCGgA1KfJvjsNlZeNsBXYpeXBl3rk1zJp_NI3FAtDNoJ1LlaDdpeJrz9B_W2bqOOCIU8LsfNT4J9/s1600/P1010190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrgzX9Yl8NNliGLTwxxb8-tx2J6yTuTbhb2HyB2hVxgbMbM0Oi7idcPKfTBzD7G8tgHCGgA1KfJvjsNlZeNsBXYpeXBl3rk1zJp_NI3FAtDNoJ1LlaDdpeJrz9B_W2bqOOCIU8LsfNT4J9/s400/P1010190.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> RICE (Redwoods, Inclines, Climbing, Elevations)?</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">We flew into Portland, OR and drove south 1200 miles down 101 and 1 past</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Monterey. We hiked Oregon waterfalls, the ancient forests in Humboldt and Redwood state parks, the streets of San Francisco and the coastal beaches near Big Sur. I conquered 2 hotel stationary bikes, an elliptical, and 2 weight rooms. I survived the drunk hillbilly engineered gravity house at confusion hill. By day 3, my ankle doubled in size and developed a slight attitude problem. I fully tested the reclining capabilities of a Nissan Maxima's passenger seat and my foot waved to every commuter from its permanent perch on the dashboard. The medical compression wraps from the doctor's office irritated my skin, so I modeled 4 1/2 pairs of Penny's knee high socks one at a time. Light purple with white stripes were my personal favorite and illicit the most whistles. Hotel ice machines and nightly elevation proved my magic bullet, returning my ankle to near normal by most mornings. Distracted by my surroundings, I engaged the tendon numerous times when I failed to watch my footing. The metal side supports performed their job admiringly, limiting the tendon's rebuke to brief shooting pains and glistening eyes I ingeniously blamed on allergies.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6SFsB5ENBc0adXNxZ7ygK68PbCyXs9o8dokRprKyCejJuAEybZt1lBfKWOK0P96OXL9fMI1uuUSFNOJHSOGwf2Ev_btPcN5H33mJSOdMo5hr7liRJ77NTxiuLW8VKJUB2uKUpBIUiMlcJ/s1600/P1010327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6SFsB5ENBc0adXNxZ7ygK68PbCyXs9o8dokRprKyCejJuAEybZt1lBfKWOK0P96OXL9fMI1uuUSFNOJHSOGwf2Ev_btPcN5H33mJSOdMo5hr7liRJ77NTxiuLW8VKJUB2uKUpBIUiMlcJ/s640/P1010327.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">San Francisco: All courteousness suspended when the cable car is full.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-4r-mf3TR4NsCSO98npH1sNVASEYX2RLvIteGFaMNkpb4P2kVIl0ksJ1BhKj5o_oTc6coVFTBu0ulGsQXTRkinMkwzPUCQt472dtyNT6plJFq0Ia_HjR9hsZf8GJIa5ucNivFj2mCBw42/s1600/IMG_5864.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-4r-mf3TR4NsCSO98npH1sNVASEYX2RLvIteGFaMNkpb4P2kVIl0ksJ1BhKj5o_oTc6coVFTBu0ulGsQXTRkinMkwzPUCQt472dtyNT6plJFq0Ia_HjR9hsZf8GJIa5ucNivFj2mCBw42/s640/IMG_5864.JPG" width="416" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luckily, now able to get my leg wet.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The physical exertions were beyond my abilities, but it felt great pushing the envelope again. The gambit paid off, 2 days after our return and careful resting I was able to talk the surgeon into green lighting my return to work 3 weeks early. We retired the boot and now at 6 weeks I am in a removable air cast. The tendon should be knitted together by now, although very fragile. The white coats insisted on another week for me to get the lower leg muscles out of their state of atrophy. I return May 29. Physical therapy starts in 3 weeks. After I regain the ability to invert the joint, running will finally be on the near horizon. I can elliptical now with just the air cast/brace. It allows full ROM (range of motion) forward and reverse, but refuses inversion. I managed 32 minutes yesterday, but the resulting swelling is impressive. From my research I will be battling inflammation for 2-3 years. Its still too early to reap the rewards. I am very much worse off than before the surgery mobility wise, but I am finally starting to see the hint of the benefits. My challenge will be not overreaching. To distract myself with a goal (and because everyone else is doing it) I am playing with a barefoot return. I have started walking feet naked on the sidewalks too toughen up the skin on my soles. When I finally get to running, its going to be a slow climb back. What better way to adopt a new style that might take some of the force out of my foot strikes and baby my newly constructed limb. Besides I am intrigued by AC reinventing himself with a new running style, envious of BF Josh's speed, and I want to one up Der Scott's running everywhere in bedroom slippers (maybe I will try flip-flops and a bathrobe).</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5TvRmkut-UJDvCYjOBRbUhlJz-r5BkM8Xr23gT78wWAu9Di4VBGU5bFFRNb2zcG1FN70Ajk8-XuPCDInmKdHrpQR2ov4cso5EBirVAXJKWOpg8Txz1krVdlxluo5-DGIAKLmk2szy5qF/s1600/IMG_6130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="419" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5TvRmkut-UJDvCYjOBRbUhlJz-r5BkM8Xr23gT78wWAu9Di4VBGU5bFFRNb2zcG1FN70Ajk8-XuPCDInmKdHrpQR2ov4cso5EBirVAXJKWOpg8Txz1krVdlxluo5-DGIAKLmk2szy5qF/s640/IMG_6130.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Stumpy" and the bottom of a Redwood.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYA1teRCc1cCh8bEI-cfvFF1VLsXjG4EgJQS6t8-LxFettKD6XrinFfKVG4Hy8m2vT2OgzIZwH1IaHScLA5zMP5gOPfjAaF-kre-qkYmOLKl2Kq6qEnmpuBL-x0Ne2REH7eJPyqYShXLgb/s1600/IMG_6398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYA1teRCc1cCh8bEI-cfvFF1VLsXjG4EgJQS6t8-LxFettKD6XrinFfKVG4Hy8m2vT2OgzIZwH1IaHScLA5zMP5gOPfjAaF-kre-qkYmOLKl2Kq6qEnmpuBL-x0Ne2REH7eJPyqYShXLgb/s640/IMG_6398.JPG" width="416" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">65 degree stupidity.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Present status. Scar looks great. Even the tattoo knitted up well. I was secretly hoping for at least a little gore to impress people with. Effort results in some pain the following day (3.5-5 on a 10 scale) and semi-impressive swelling (I think this is slowly improving). ROM is 85% gas pedal motion, 15% side to side. Sleep is 27 times better in the small air cast. Calf size is still very reduced, maybe by 33%. Tib anterior is overtaxed and sore from covering the peroneal's job. A lot of tension built up in the glutes, IT band, and quads on that side. I am going to start rolling again to address these issues, with my increased mobility. Now that I can address blood sugar issues with limited cardio, I can finally begin to reintroduce a higher carbohydrate diet. Blood sugars remain in good control. To date, I am down 5 lbs probably due to the decreased insulin and low carb. My upper body is larger and my core is massively improved as all of my exercise has been free weights or core based. Waist size is down 1.5 inches. My lower body is definitely reduced from the 40 miles per week days. RICE (rest ice compression elevation) approach results are noticeable now. If you have this surgery, week 5-6 looks to be the beginning of the beginning. I am tentatively considering running the Spinx half-marathon with my mom at the end of October if she will wait for me at the finish. The surgeon says its possible if I run it to finish. I would love to Galloway it in. It will be on the best case side of possibilities for me. The 4 hour finish time limit should allow me enough time to moon walk it in if my ankle can't make it. I would love to return this to a running blog. Still hoping for a marathon return to Umstead 2013.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiShhdplow0VRnx-SqaW6B3Pj3tPr0y9p5DZYl1iirvDGfWY-JH0Fkns81WrecWoMS5_RbyI8riCprdGxk3YWbumgOHpiyppIZtKtkuzMX1EPgOKDrI6tHeiOxVLkJ7bQRXCkVJOv-X-RhX/s1600/IMG_6488.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiShhdplow0VRnx-SqaW6B3Pj3tPr0y9p5DZYl1iirvDGfWY-JH0Fkns81WrecWoMS5_RbyI8riCprdGxk3YWbumgOHpiyppIZtKtkuzMX1EPgOKDrI6tHeiOxVLkJ7bQRXCkVJOv-X-RhX/s640/IMG_6488.JPG" width="416" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This way to accessible adventures.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where there's a will there's an accident.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Recovery, finally a light at the end of the tunnel.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Common sense trail.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Safer modes of transportation. But, Sally is not famous for sharing.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeNineteen</span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-17021038057549487882012-05-10T17:27:00.000-07:002012-05-20T23:40:27.881-07:00Cast off!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXpjlcWqO-mL14-DgoPluB3oZM00Pa-LDvAdPXeCH7HJUdKTrZ0OdzNiO-mIXC3daSgg33-GraJtfDZ139Iz3ZHSTfK-DG19rikyeRIcGA4RKlAQhyphenhyphenl0NxLSHjdGBhmYSOtRkEblRi402/s1600/P1010158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXpjlcWqO-mL14-DgoPluB3oZM00Pa-LDvAdPXeCH7HJUdKTrZ0OdzNiO-mIXC3daSgg33-GraJtfDZ139Iz3ZHSTfK-DG19rikyeRIcGA4RKlAQhyphenhyphenl0NxLSHjdGBhmYSOtRkEblRi402/s400/P1010158.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Half Flowbee half Jaws of Life. It did get warm, but as promised no blood.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My peroneal brevis repair one month review finds me a bit tired of everything and very aware of the passage of time. In a word, I am a malcontent. The <u>European Journal of Social Psychology</u> suggests it takes an average 66 days to create a habit. Added to more than a months rest before the operation I fear my running addiction is broken by definition. My mood is not helped by my murky understanding of my recovery timeline. Everyone heals differently and the surgeons have radically different approaches to rehabilitation. Can I start to run at 3 months out? 6? 9? Icelandic Hákarl cures for 4-5 months after fermentation. If rotten shark is ready after 120 days, why not my rotten tendon? I have challenged this process at every step, pushing to the edge of my limits. Early out of open splint, early out of cast, early into boot. With this much focused exertion I expect a sub 3:30 marathon. My best efforts, to date, have yielded me a time to my mailbox that I suspect puts me slightly ahead of my Grandmother. Unfortunately, at 83 she is not in my age bracket.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Butter side up. My cast is past. I wore this accoutrement for a mere 3 weeks, yet I soon hated it more than Häagen-Dazs hates vegetables. The persecution incited by accumulated skin cells, dried sweat, goat hair, and lost spatula pieces was finally soothed after a terrifying medical encounter performed with what I am sure was a Sawzall. The crazed mechanized saw wielder assured me that the razor sharp, titanium, diamond encrusted alternating blades were perfectly safe. They will apparently cut through fiberglass, sheet metal, and concrete, but remain safe for cheese cloth, wet Klenex, and human skin. The fiberglass shell was sawed off in L shaped cuts and discarded. Then the gauze and filler were scissored away with a straight center cut. Just like that, my desperate skin was reintroduced to fresh air. The nurse did not allow me to bring the steel wool and sandpaper I attempted to smuggle into the cast room. Otherwise, the following scratching was the height of pleasure. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">26.2% less muscle. With the muscle tone of an 11 year old girl, my left leg is no longer able to<br />attend rated R movies unchaperoned. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Swelling was within parameters, but apparent. The wound itself looked a bit chunky to me, but its hard to tell what is under the scabbing. It is dry and shows no sign of infection or complication. The steri-strips are to remain on until they fall off. The Franken-boot has been replaced by a Robo-boot that is only to be removed while bathing. It turns out that sleeping with a cement block styled 8 lb rig on your leg is just as comfortable as orthodontia and slightly more convenient than changing your cable company. My calf is no where to be found and combined with the swollen ankle makes my leg look like a stick hangman drawing. The Hermes tattoo looks surprisingly good. Maybe a bit molted. My weight is stable. Lost 3/4 of an inch on the calf. Gained 1/2 in around the ankle measuring just above the malleolus. Blood sugars still controlled with core and upper body work in concert with low carb diet. Just had my physical and posted a 5.3 A1c.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you peer closely you may be able to see the stink in this picture of a<br />four week unwashed ankle. Here the iodine stain is still present <br />immediately following cast removal.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I am very excited to get back to some kind of cardio that does not involve sit-up, free weights, pull-up circuits. I am cleared for the bike, elliptical, and to a lesser extent hobbling as long as I wear the gear. The boot keeps the ankle anchored and completely immobile. I have already tried a stationary bike, but am experiencing some issues with atrophy (which I will dispatch with shortly) and clanging my size 16 E medical cowboy boot on the frame occasionally. I am still not cleared for work, but am remaining positive about a quick restoration. My next appointment is May 23 where I expect to be placed in a smaller, more mobile brace. I have airline tickets for a previous to surgery planned California road trip that my wife deems too dangerous. I have one week to prove myself not too wobbly. Successful completion of that adventure and rehabbing on the hotel exercise equipment should bolster my case and get my return to work release papers signed by the surgeon. Fingers Xd. I have abandoned all running magazines, blogs, races while condemned to the cast. I hope to catch up as I read through my upcoming bootcersizes. I miss the crazies. I miss all of you wonderful crazies.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4 weeks post surgery. Swelling and degeneration comparison.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeEighteen</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-7084723971858655432012-05-02T16:03:00.000-07:002012-05-07T20:34:22.487-07:00Ban-itch-ment<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnqG2MaA66Wrge-8UIgaOWCyUkpao48WLFu1fmQvtvJ_Nld1ke0nW4zSxSfCf6xpkBSe_Np3Ew5YQ6M5a3BNpcQmkER-Y8kWSftW3CS9yaXcyIOE7I8MQR2rdX6aY4c7T7-IwIjBrZsf3w/s1600/IMG_5768.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnqG2MaA66Wrge-8UIgaOWCyUkpao48WLFu1fmQvtvJ_Nld1ke0nW4zSxSfCf6xpkBSe_Np3Ew5YQ6M5a3BNpcQmkER-Y8kWSftW3CS9yaXcyIOE7I8MQR2rdX6aY4c7T7-IwIjBrZsf3w/s320/IMG_5768.JPG" width="211" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Violation of post op care. Exhibit A.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Tendon repair + 3 weeks. Pain continues to decrease. At this juncture my range of motion encompasses the full allowance of my rapidly decaying cast. I can now flex up and down about 1.5 inches. My wincibility factor still edges up to 7 whenever my peroneal's have a chance to fire. This usually happens when my balance is challenged and the muscle tightens in futile response. My mobility continues to improve in spite of my fiberglass cage. I have mastered <a href="http://derscott.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">der Scott</a>'s no arm crutches technique and am showing great promise as a fledgling hobbler sans crutches. Most mornings, cramps from the surrounding imprisoned muscles issue a rude reveille t</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">hat last till taps</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">.</span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE7CIim6r0_VlXu3lpTls7VChcciQIMN8xgwqWS-gI1PUYvXOMaoMqmLEvcyP4_ZITPeXC-_Ji-t5NIhkkZR_MFma_zl7zM5eVQejVc_145zQMx_tAffS5ChYH5JIPsXimX4JMSbokZvDu/s1600/IMG_5767.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE7CIim6r0_VlXu3lpTls7VChcciQIMN8xgwqWS-gI1PUYvXOMaoMqmLEvcyP4_ZITPeXC-_Ji-t5NIhkkZR_MFma_zl7zM5eVQejVc_145zQMx_tAffS5ChYH5JIPsXimX4JMSbokZvDu/s400/IMG_5767.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Weapons of mass destruction.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The last 7 days widened the cracks in my sanity along with the gap between withered calf and cast. If the itching would take on a human aspect for just a brief moment, I would kick the cojones, tweek the nose, and apply liberal purple nurples with glee. I have renounced Benedryl in favor of more substantial remedies. The post surgical instructions insist that nothing be inserted into the cast. Sage advice that I strictly followed for over 96 hours. As the maddening itch increased, my adherence weakened. After careful rereading, I followed the instruction to the letter. I have never inserted <i>nothing </i>into the wretched boot. I may have inserted a 12 inch screwdriver, electric taped molding, 2 mixing spatulas, a paint stirrer, a belt, and maybe my hand up to the elbow.</span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3CGoa5ck3GJorjvNVvc3meLcg03JnRLrcDo1ggnOygk9UJcTVN_elauUrdoFEFn1SErgEchys6y6KDm-eJYSSHFRs5J3VrvbLziCSZhBdfSOZGMDMZmiFdkE-3kJYqPfifk63RxnBOfi/s1600/IMG_5688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3CGoa5ck3GJorjvNVvc3meLcg03JnRLrcDo1ggnOygk9UJcTVN_elauUrdoFEFn1SErgEchys6y6KDm-eJYSSHFRs5J3VrvbLziCSZhBdfSOZGMDMZmiFdkE-3kJYqPfifk63RxnBOfi/s400/IMG_5688.JPG" width="261" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New <strike>car</strike> goat smell.</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">A mixing spatula will gently massage the skin without ill effect if used delicately and with some reservation. I was very careful with my first exploration. My manic laughter and expletives did not bring the police, but I am sure I woke up more than half of the neighborhood wildlife when I plunged my spatula Excalibur into the heart of my calf's scaly dragon itch. I continued carefully scratching for a brief 2 or 3 hours. When my arm finally tired, I retracted my makeshift sword to discover my weapon significantly reduced. I managed to dig a 2 inch chunk out with the hilt, but found a nickel sized piece remained behind. The cast away piece laughed at my best efforts to dislodge it and hid within the layered mysteries of my cast. I slept and prepared my best excuses for an impromptu doctors visit. When I awoke I felt the wayward rubber </span>embedded onto my heal. Ever seen a cat with tape on it's paws? </span></div><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">In my two and a half day 1 leg odyssey I gorged on the delicious home cooked organic fare that my sister feeds her family. Her emphasis on natural proteins and vegetables nicely complimented my own diabetic diet. A welcome respite from the temptations of my carbohydrate crazed companion at home, as I no longer generate the cardio required to burn pizza, Lucky Charms, and popcorn. An unexplained hypo prevented me from an exciting trip to town for 4 new baby chicks. Need a little more research, but I believe the altitude knocked my insulin needs down by 30%. A 9 mph gator drive, complete with goat escort, left me longing for my trail shoes. There is a Grandfather Mountain Marathon reminiscent road right at the foot of my sisters mountain driveway that runs all the way into the next county. After several shellackings from close family (read vicious competitors), I knew that Mario Cart practice would henceforth be replacing my daily <u>General Hospital</u> window. As a parting gift my cast was adorned with original works and signed by the artists, my niece and nephew. The most controversial piece, a daring modern take on racism, the environment, wealth distribution, and the waning of religion in a post-global economy by my nephew titled: <u>Alligator in the bathtub</u>. Wish I could get in a bath without a trashcan liner tied around my leg! Thanks for a great visit S. I had a blast.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeSeventeen</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-89485074161928142742012-04-26T18:56:00.000-07:002012-04-26T19:01:18.533-07:00Report from the Funny Farm<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE9cXW2UlGDv2qVNBUdwoD5ku9jM8pQL3rJwKrSzDUp2ot0cta62sRZo4gJc9TLAMagIEZVYxAvH70Y6jPbC16pA_fRedkNLZjJZAIPFaAusRR0K6uq4J3l9TVl7GJUSWovtAZlam1jIyH/s1600/gingerbread+broken+leg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE9cXW2UlGDv2qVNBUdwoD5ku9jM8pQL3rJwKrSzDUp2ot0cta62sRZo4gJc9TLAMagIEZVYxAvH70Y6jPbC16pA_fRedkNLZjJZAIPFaAusRR0K6uq4J3l9TVl7GJUSWovtAZlam1jIyH/s320/gingerbread+broken+leg.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"O snap"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ83UDfUWJ43FU6abK1yLkMrUzX07POBs1Ul2ilbDI_aFH-eaU19FV6yRT0rpqGrjSjsYhBJu4jVfG4Kx4y_SBriMM0RptOQK1DKTr__COvQyaEmjFys7lJq6qxND5VhMrKFScO7eUsZ1W/s1600/spider+leg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ83UDfUWJ43FU6abK1yLkMrUzX07POBs1Ul2ilbDI_aFH-eaU19FV6yRT0rpqGrjSjsYhBJu4jVfG4Kx4y_SBriMM0RptOQK1DKTr__COvQyaEmjFys7lJq6qxND5VhMrKFScO7eUsZ1W/s320/spider+leg.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hate to have his co-pay. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Day 16 post tendon repair. I thought I would recap the two week status. This is boring stuff, I've lost my staff photographer back to work and I am not above sprinkling in cute animal pictures. I had planned on my return to work yesterday at the onset of this adventure. The surgeon indicated 2 weeks or 3 on the outside for returning to the </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">old grind. After the surgery my HR department forwarded me a return to work release. My job requires mobility and the ability to lift heavy machine parts while repairing broken behemoths. The work release is very specific on the criteria needed to return and, at the moment I don't measure up. I will not write towards specifics regarding my company on the internet without clearance, but suffice to say that the inability to get wet is a major strike against my return. Since the cast has to stay dry, rain is now a job hazard. I am weight lifting a lot, 2 days on 2 days off, upper body which I hope will help me overcome some of the mobility requirements. Of course, I am not allowed to sweat so the reps are 5 minutes apart. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSsTUV22vi7EejjN1qqxj-0hA-tApOs1yCZe2gwqF30a72XZN8X9cd6LrmqjziBM_MpQ0oIDhu1zrjSG12ktfZdoE4n20LU2mV-zZkuN_f2IJp9yK6ZWX6U6RlyPdzmP_32L-tHCL3fniS/s1600/frog+leg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSsTUV22vi7EejjN1qqxj-0hA-tApOs1yCZe2gwqF30a72XZN8X9cd6LrmqjziBM_MpQ0oIDhu1zrjSG12ktfZdoE4n20LU2mV-zZkuN_f2IJp9yK6ZWX6U6RlyPdzmP_32L-tHCL3fniS/s320/frog+leg.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This whole experience has been bull *%#@</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_65I7tHfLHDXNPyu3zPqURCh8R9trlcoTEfuZfkzDy3FiCvYIlPv_ZYKs2hccnUIlNxBcUMnPtzMLcInvX3EBtvdYk9_fIQT0wRt0FNShhjrMBZDaaDoilLurEaOMboG9rIGoo_qRAzw/s1600/bird+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_65I7tHfLHDXNPyu3zPqURCh8R9trlcoTEfuZfkzDy3FiCvYIlPv_ZYKs2hccnUIlNxBcUMnPtzMLcInvX3EBtvdYk9_fIQT0wRt0FNShhjrMBZDaaDoilLurEaOMboG9rIGoo_qRAzw/s400/bird+3.png" width="304" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I hate being grounded</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> I plan to pressure the doctor at my next appointment for the quickest return possible. I have been employed on and off since I was 12 and continuously since 15, excluding a brief year at college where I subsisted on college loans and Ramon Noodles. I am not cut out for this much slacking. If I could work in the yard or elliptical or even bike I would really enjoy this break. Just, please, let me outside. Although, I imagine biking or kayaking probably negates your disability status. I had planned on making the dangerous trek to the grocery store today, but mother nature intervened with some showers so instead I shall dine on all of the mustard and jello left in the fridge. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMKFbAG8S4CFUnRowfE3Qximzkq6I01HSdb2k5V2I_UyLyr1qZBAD6LaLpx8MrL1xwFWdQ8An4Crbqh9zHlTN4B5-aZoQjDCjfGgfwZx1vJEjwOHpbbshOyRe6aouquhAgpgjVUDH190xk/s1600/hedgehog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMKFbAG8S4CFUnRowfE3Qximzkq6I01HSdb2k5V2I_UyLyr1qZBAD6LaLpx8MrL1xwFWdQ8An4Crbqh9zHlTN4B5-aZoQjDCjfGgfwZx1vJEjwOHpbbshOyRe6aouquhAgpgjVUDH190xk/s320/hedgehog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This cast is making me prickly.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn82388YMfEcs00PHtptcXcFhIqHrfKd3ShGQvuNZPUv3lFfJMjVDy86DGmlmSwLNjPbH2xGQrxA8-KzXeQK9E2hkXokoqTB7jTCMiyQd3JDqwx8lp7Epp8gKwjIKKzjvYq-bGVdTcYayQ/s1600/goat+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn82388YMfEcs00PHtptcXcFhIqHrfKd3ShGQvuNZPUv3lFfJMjVDy86DGmlmSwLNjPbH2xGQrxA8-KzXeQK9E2hkXokoqTB7jTCMiyQd3JDqwx8lp7Epp8gKwjIKKzjvYq-bGVdTcYayQ/s400/goat+3.jpg" width="361" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even an old goat can have trouble on trails.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Pain levels are great. Less than 3 winces per day now, usually when I first put my weight on the leg. Some cramping has started, mostly in the calf which I fear has all of the tone of a spaghetti noodle now. Angel Hair. A deep ache in </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">the </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">tendon area remains whenever I am out of the prone position. Fatigue levels are almost normal after 2 weeks. I am having trouble falling asleep, but I think that may be from the horrifying itching. Benedryl remains the only medication, other than insulin, I still need occasionally. Blood sugars are trending way better than I anticipated, but I continue maintaining a very low carb diet. My total daily dose of insulin is down 30%. Total daily carbohydrates under 75. That is less than 90 milliliters of Aunt Jemima syrup. I miss you most of all Aunt J. Some depression, but light. I think the loss of cardio and endorphins play an equal role with loss of mobility. So far, I think I remain ahead of the recovery timeline. I am looking most forward to a proper shower, clearance for the stationary bike and my return to work. Overall I am progressing well. I have no reason to complain, but will remain diligent in looking for one.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17qA5rhUWOXdvuBGpmXTPFYCKuQU2DYLFHxvItsj5Bky_tl7uP4lSuL3WbeHLt6xGx6XWbJ3KcKo6XxKEMZUh9SzFzvEP29S6kfasoX7Cb6gHurJSargkwFNXxirK33H8YwWBIAB-Goxf/s1600/kitty4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17qA5rhUWOXdvuBGpmXTPFYCKuQU2DYLFHxvItsj5Bky_tl7uP4lSuL3WbeHLt6xGx6XWbJ3KcKo6XxKEMZUh9SzFzvEP29S6kfasoX7Cb6gHurJSargkwFNXxirK33H8YwWBIAB-Goxf/s640/kitty4.jpg" width="636" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is nothing but a big fat cat astrophe.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfK0nqd7yAe1JPT5c9RdqNowkv328TO2LSebKo4ZebU_yKpKUNIwMwXy8LiyESlwO1GXDWZTyZAwqaBKiQvuWqwW5U1JleJPcLGQzA1Ri7GzEzr7USa3hsV8bzhYQDbd3JaoKSJhTf47-4/s1600/dog+with+broken+leg3.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfK0nqd7yAe1JPT5c9RdqNowkv328TO2LSebKo4ZebU_yKpKUNIwMwXy8LiyESlwO1GXDWZTyZAwqaBKiQvuWqwW5U1JleJPcLGQzA1Ri7GzEzr7USa3hsV8bzhYQDbd3JaoKSJhTf47-4/s400/dog+with+broken+leg3.png" width="388" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every since I can't get my cast wet, all I see are fire hydrants.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The medical bills are starting to roll in. I had estimated $2500 out of pocket on top of the lost wages and $1200 deductible. The insurance company is still processing my share, but I finally have the itemized bill from the doctor, hospital, anesthetist, hospital cafeteria, and MRI. Looks like a shade under $20,000. About $227.28 per minute for the 88 minute surgery. The anesthesia was almost $6000. I would highly recommend self anesthesia if you are trying to save money. Maker's Mark is only $20 per 750 mL. The hospital was also very pricey around $11,000. A clean garage, your wife's sewing kit, and a decent set of Craftsman tools could save you thousands.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeSixteen</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-67664493713765650512012-04-22T14:30:00.000-07:002012-05-27T11:13:26.175-07:00Can't Believe I Slept through this<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Day 12. Today, my surgeon forwarded me the jpgs </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">made during my tendon repair</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">. I am usually not a huge fan of the health care system, but to date I have been really impressed by Dr. Nunley and his merry band of associates. And not just because he sent me these nasty pics. You really have to prepare yourself for appointments. He does not have a lot of time for formalities, but to date, he has answered all of my questions. I have a long way to go before I see the final product, but if you are in the market for peroneal longitudinal tear repair, at this point I would endorse </span><a href="http://www.dukehealth.org/physicians/james_a_nunley_ii" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;" target="_blank">Dr. Nunley & Associates</a><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> at Duke. If you found this blog searching for information on peroneal repair, the most helpful site I found was a forum on </span><a href="http://www.runnersworld.com/community/forums/injury-prevention/injuries/just-surgery-peroneal-tendon" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;" target="_blank"><u>Runner's World</u></a><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My recovery ebbs and flows a lot. Two days ago, I announced myself fit for work. Yesterday, I tired myself out brushing my teeth. The incision pain has ceased for the most part. A throbbing emerged deep in the ankle. It shoots up the tendon occasionally, but stays isolated in the brevis area the majority of the time. A lot of weird sole pain began, which I think results from the new cast and the strange foot strike it produces. I have upped the walking around a lot and perhaps a too little quickly. My leg plans on elevation, insurance paperwork, job administration and a couple of paperbacks for the next two days. Just 12 days out from the pictures below, I think things are progressing a little ahead of schedule. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The itch created by a fortnight's bath abstinence rivals water boarding <strike>torture</strike> interrogation techniques. I would confess the identity of D.B. Cooper and Coca Cola's secret formula for a reprieve. The benedryl tabs work wonders at relieving both the itch and consciousness, but both resume at the same time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Please finish digesting your breakfast before scrolling down.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This image shows the tear running longitudinally. Unfortunately, I had my eyes closed in this picture.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCFAx_SgmRyaLJbwXIpvZDOf_XQUXd49MzZSvcXdAaCXbAz7OAsQNwi8wymZ-JlKAgfiyeKX9Y_uy6lUSg8IC306P-CG6Y-zN_59oYjMsHASjEOgeu_betm8t-pVwojvnIhJPr5WanR7g/s1600/peroneal+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="471" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCFAx_SgmRyaLJbwXIpvZDOf_XQUXd49MzZSvcXdAaCXbAz7OAsQNwi8wymZ-JlKAgfiyeKX9Y_uy6lUSg8IC306P-CG6Y-zN_59oYjMsHASjEOgeu_betm8t-pVwojvnIhJPr5WanR7g/s640/peroneal+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> A tad over 3cm. This may put me off chicken wings for awhile.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjveyZxIhNimsgcjVhpOrf31ZE_JEYuyixGIdYNbZ-V-9yNkumQFY1wju75-nZPElPOAyYb8BZdbSNAXyXWZ7Zk39cbIr5I6LegNJszOc1ThEE9V6llJFpVj06A27HZ2LgMMwnnK9K9OnWl/s1600/peroneal+tendon+post-repair+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="475" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjveyZxIhNimsgcjVhpOrf31ZE_JEYuyixGIdYNbZ-V-9yNkumQFY1wju75-nZPElPOAyYb8BZdbSNAXyXWZ7Zk39cbIr5I6LegNJszOc1ThEE9V6llJFpVj06A27HZ2LgMMwnnK9K9OnWl/s640/peroneal+tendon+post-repair+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trail running. Sometimes you reap what you sew.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The special today is tough and a little stringy. I would recommend the sirloin instead. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeFifteen</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-72107330909168865602012-04-18T09:00:00.000-07:002012-04-21T12:16:42.253-07:00The Mummy Returns<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So take these broken wings<br />
And learn to fly again<br />
And learn to live so free<br />
-music by Mr. Mister<br />
-performance by my surgeon's resident</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good riddance to ragged rubbish.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Day 8. My first post operative appointment. My open splint had morphed into a terrible monster; a creature feature of dishevelment and disgrace. I really wished to graduate to the latest running fad, the fiberglass cast, so I fended off my wife's best attempts to safety pin my current rags back to respectability. The original timeline called for 2 weeks in the open splint followed by stitch removal and then 4-6 weeks in a hard cast. Dr. Nunley moved my papier-mâché date up 6 days at the hospital in an attempt to protect me from me. The new plan was for a hard cast over the stitches today and then back in one week for destitch and reboot. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The front desk tried to charge me a specialist copay, but luckily I know someone who speaks insurance. Appointments related to the original surgery are billed as part of the surgery for the first 90 days. Thanks mom! Penny and I got our callback to the casting room. Penny followed the nurse, I followed Penny, and my 4 foot bandage tail followed me to the gory unveiling. We were met in the bodyshop by the cast mechanics Mark and Mike. <u>Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy</u> End Scene I.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why so serious?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHd7o-0c9hJm7TZPWvfmUVbKdMQ3IXJVV7H2mNnaypqxrWuH9XOOHUoowNZ3kLqQ7KDuFzWG2oP34v08-X_4a9zHt7j1cAM12kfiajFcpldKlSt-3EyJub-cji8JvFS05_u9nutAJjOC6z/s1600/IMG_5643.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHd7o-0c9hJm7TZPWvfmUVbKdMQ3IXJVV7H2mNnaypqxrWuH9XOOHUoowNZ3kLqQ7KDuFzWG2oP34v08-X_4a9zHt7j1cAM12kfiajFcpldKlSt-3EyJub-cji8JvFS05_u9nutAJjOC6z/s320/IMG_5643.JPG" width="211" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prepping for Pupa stage. Soon I <br />
will be a butterfly!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I was seated behind curtain #2 with Wayne Brady and a fabulous new dinette set. (Sorry overdosing on the daytime TV lately). Technician Edward Scissorhands had my leg naked faster than a college freshman can say Stawberry Boones Farm. I basked in the holy sensation of fresh air on my newly liberated leg until I saw the wreckage. Not the incision. The abhorrent, flabby, withered blob that had replaced my calf. Entombed for just over a week, my 26.2 ink now looks like a Salvador Dali tattoo etched on mashed potato. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you look closely you can see the Icarus wax residue on my<br />
Hermes wings. I trailed to close the sun.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The incision itself had not completely closed, but Dr. Frankenstein pronounced it close enough. Lab assistant Igor cut the stitches out with what looked like an X-Acto knife. Penny and I thought it a bit premature and a little Abby Normal, but with a few butterfly stitches and not so much as a conjugal visit my calf was returned to its cell. Prickly heat was diagnosed from sweat inside the splint, resulting in some rather random raging red rash. In retrospect the floor exercises and nude sunbathing may have been a bad idea. Perspiration in the new hard cast is strictly prohibited, and after midnight may result in Gremlin growth. I am cleared for upper body lifting; high weight low reps, in the AC with a nice iced tea.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prisoner ID No. 26.2. Ruled a flight risk<br />
and danger to himself and others. Release<br />
DENIED. Parole hearing May 7, 2012.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My new ride is a 3/4, candy apple red, fiberglass, open toed chassis, accessorized with a two inch Franken foot boot. I am allowed to stand or hobble on it to pain tolerance. The nurses indicated I should be able to stand within 2 days and walk on it with crutches in a week. I worked out the leg atrophy within 24 hours, but the open incision keeps healing to the inside of the cast making my first couple of steps lively. The underfoot height of the cast when combined with the Franken boot now measures a 4 inch drop. I was lumbering around on my right leg's tip toes like a sea sick pirate until Penny proposed a solution. I said no to the matching red stiletto, but now find myself modeling her platform flip flop down the catwalk to the kitchen. From the front my feet look like <u>Attack of the 50 foot Woman</u> dancing with Herman Munster. Now my left foot demands beer, bacon and beef jerky while my right foot craves Riesling and bubble baths. (Photo documentation below. Warning: may disturb Republicans.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Hopefully the cast will make me a little more mobile. I am relieved to be able to sleep in my bed without tying my leg to the ceiling fan. I have convinced the doctor to allow me into a boot in just under 3 weeks. On May 7th, if all goes well, I will shed the cast and borrow Forrest Gump's leg brace. At this point the most frustrating issue is skin care. I just want to bathe my leg under the knee. Helpful hint: use benadryl caplets for itching instead of coat hangers, steel wool, or puppy teeth. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The state of NC officially recognizes me as temporarily gimpy now and has bestowed upon me the privileged parking honors associated there with. Blood sugars have been on the straight and narrow, controlled by my all meat all the time diet. I am finally mobile enough to add some greens to my diet. Yeah spinach! I discontinued the ibuprofen and am controlling pain entirely with sniveling and secret Tom Cruise Scientology rituals. Physical discomfort is down to a 3 on a 10 scale, but I can see atrophy is going to be a big challenge when I finally become booted. My weight has stayed pretty constant. I am trying to maintain my UFC Welterweight status. Currently at 156.5, I was 159 at surgery date.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Filling out insurance forms turned a 2 hour appointment into 3 hours. We were smart to review and flag all of the pages requiring doctor's entries the night before. It saved some time. Running shoe gossip with the cast constructor probably added another hour. Six years ago Mike everted where I inverted and recovered over 2 years. That injury is significantly more damaging than the one I suffered. It cheered me to see his NB minimus kicks. While my cast set he showed me his favorite running shoes on the internet. He runs now as part of his fitness program, and although he has unrelated knee issues, his ankle is sound. It was encouraging to talk with someone who had made it successfully to the other side of ankle surgery.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Please try to limit catcalls and refrain from whistling in the comment section. I'm Sexy and I know it. I work out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">diatribeForteen</span></div>
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-37394499437260982652012-04-17T16:09:00.000-07:002012-04-21T08:46:02.193-07:00Outing to a Wedding<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Day 5 through 7.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMXM-aEFg6uY2Gn5xd5hvXDxtnDCI3GUYQP2pRfThDcmX8xvcmd_RsCYhbiRsup5ULkr7bAVI69rl-bOhEy8LqsrtfL4aChvvscUbpGWiRXTIoO7heKrGCjoM8GsVQajluZk4Yfa_rbs2/s1600/IMG_5619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMXM-aEFg6uY2Gn5xd5hvXDxtnDCI3GUYQP2pRfThDcmX8xvcmd_RsCYhbiRsup5ULkr7bAVI69rl-bOhEy8LqsrtfL4aChvvscUbpGWiRXTIoO7heKrGCjoM8GsVQajluZk4Yfa_rbs2/s320/IMG_5619.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ruin of dogs and diabetics: Candied maple bacon cupcake.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Surgery day +5 found me stir crazy and overconfident in my abilities. With the open splint I was susceptible to rolling the ankle, sudden rainstorms, clumsiness, and determined burrowing animals. The leg had to be elevated for the first 96 hours, but after that only protected and kept dry. What better safe harbor than an outdoor wedding? Still alive when she returned from shopping yesterday, I lulled my wife/nurse/prison guard's better sense of judgement into letting me escort her to her friends wedding on Sunday. She carefully wedged me into the back of the car with pillows, bubble wrap and some fluffing. We arrived for the brief ceremony and stayed through the reception. I enjoyed the best wedding fare I have ever consumed. Although dry eyed through the ceremony, I teared up over my second plate of <a href="http://www.backyardbistro.com/" target="_blank">Backyard Bistro</a> BBQ. It was an excellent test of my crutching abilities as I completed my 7th marathon distance from the curb to the backyard along what I estimated to be 26.2 miles of loose gravel interrupted by a few mountains and a bear or two. The sun was strong and we probably stayed an hour too long as my stamina is still quite low. I considered a few Cliff Shot Blocks for strength, but rejected them for for a <a href="http://eatdaisycakes.com/" target="_blank">Daisy Cake</a>s candied bacon and maple wedding cupcake. All told about a 3.5 hour excursion. Congratulations Chris and Drew. I enjoyed your nuptials almost as much as the brisket and home brew. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wear white to a wedding and you could get hurt.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ly7eDYDN-KDQDSv3cxfLHBNxPM_yjksy_3oA6BUNFUgmVzQLslW6Hd1LE_2oBUeS8-WxI3GCj7EGRLOOCRkmbi78JWlZNtDzdyRJXefR1MHMwhWw8M1F4JSSbOc8PR3vBWWw2A_kSwGX/s1600/IMG_5586.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ly7eDYDN-KDQDSv3cxfLHBNxPM_yjksy_3oA6BUNFUgmVzQLslW6Hd1LE_2oBUeS8-WxI3GCj7EGRLOOCRkmbi78JWlZNtDzdyRJXefR1MHMwhWw8M1F4JSSbOc8PR3vBWWw2A_kSwGX/s320/IMG_5586.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Viewer discretion is advised. Contains<br />
scenes that some viewers may find<br />
disturbing.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Day 6-7. The strenuous half day of sitting and eating left me completely wiped. I slept almost all of day 6 away. Blood sugars were pretty constant, but I am noticing my insulin resistance is creeping up without my normal cardio routine. Day 7 was better, but more than half dedicated to napping practice. I attempted the 30+ pages of insurance paperwork and work required administration in preparation for tomorrows post operative appointment. After reviewing the work release form requirements just received from my HR department, I am a little concerned about my Doctor releasing me back after 2 weeks as promised. The document is quite specific and maybe a little out of reach for the pirate-like (1 legged). </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I am still shocked by my quickness toward fatigue and my bodies demand for extra sleep. Most of the pain is limited to where I think the incision was made. I cannot wait to see if my wing tattoo is clipped. Goodbye trendy ink, hello cool scarification. I hope he didn't carve it in the shape of a butterfly or a Chinese character that translates into karma or nirvana.</span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-7929846840255459182012-04-14T15:42:00.000-07:002012-04-14T15:42:06.930-07:00Calf Hurts like Moses got to it<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikmqI_REwoQNtdEjgv5cyeAvlqYghk1IBTYJEAejwg650T4md2GYZDIWg8oiMmwY-_OgOnTHh9CifKfibPpZSGYReSw664ILPjmZRFvdQJaqcyq2dK3GYdAFqMDCA_Uv6SwlCifWbusK0U/s1600/IMG_0130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikmqI_REwoQNtdEjgv5cyeAvlqYghk1IBTYJEAejwg650T4md2GYZDIWg8oiMmwY-_OgOnTHh9CifKfibPpZSGYReSw664ILPjmZRFvdQJaqcyq2dK3GYdAFqMDCA_Uv6SwlCifWbusK0U/s320/IMG_0130.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The chair represents the x axis: time without Oxycodene. The<br />side of the house represents the y axis: pain level. My leg is a<br />linear function of ouchiness.<br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Day 3 was challenging, as promised by all of the reviews I've found on the internet. Very similar to the famous bonk around mile 22 in an all out marathon, I was feeling far better than expected until I wasn't. And then I really wasn't. On a pain scale, de uno a diez, I jumped, without warning, from 4.5 to </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i style="line-height: 19px;">¡Qué demonios!</i><span style="line-height: 19px;"> I ran toward exhaustion all day and slept a good part of the day away. Fatigue has been up noticeably since the hacking, but the 72 hour mark had me zonked out. I am still olly olly Oxycodene free, relying on about 800 mg of ibuprofen per day.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2lQWf_LXGiJ2wLr9gyRU165Znbyprpqbu_PsTjd3sn_oe-7jGZjp98B6ldGKH6UGFZwD4IgS-6EwWyePa0n6bPHloI6L3YC1mYehyphenhyphenRH9T_faPbMomMjEHe02cs2ghk8KmVtigSJcJXy6/s1600/IMG_0138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2lQWf_LXGiJ2wLr9gyRU165Znbyprpqbu_PsTjd3sn_oe-7jGZjp98B6ldGKH6UGFZwD4IgS-6EwWyePa0n6bPHloI6L3YC1mYehyphenhyphenRH9T_faPbMomMjEHe02cs2ghk8KmVtigSJcJXy6/s320/IMG_0138.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love outside this much.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">I woke slowly and still tired on day 4, but with a 60 blood sugar its hard to fairly place the blame entirely on my recovery. When I finally attempted the harrowing staircase of certain death to the kitchen it felt like a good time for a nap. The carbs in a whole grapefruit and 2 liters of coffee immediately perked me up. So, probably the blood sugar. The pain is around a 5.5 (could have been better if it stuck the landing) today.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh91qs1IIrTZ45kCZ2aKPwHQx_oBNGiZP8Hjan3oUQdQ2Ms2UJoo1x0a9NjZLZumudWT6MHDpOE-XhyAD4snmdV_INLJyL1K8fY-S_zPUbJ6uei8skBTYozyU3SsUG7pqvdfM-3UYbgosPG/s1600/IMG_0149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh91qs1IIrTZ45kCZ2aKPwHQx_oBNGiZP8Hjan3oUQdQ2Ms2UJoo1x0a9NjZLZumudWT6MHDpOE-XhyAD4snmdV_INLJyL1K8fY-S_zPUbJ6uei8skBTYozyU3SsUG7pqvdfM-3UYbgosPG/s320/IMG_0149.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My wife's essentials kit for the single-legged. I think<br />she downloaded the list directly from the NRA website.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">Penny had 4 days of stacked up errands to run and decided my hopping skills had advanced enough to trust me to my first solo. Also, the post-op instructions insisting on constant elevation for the first 96 hours, finally expired. Those 4 days died harder than Bruce Willis. I passed Penny's first test, successfully making my own coffee (including grinding) and grapefruit. She left me on my own with the windows open and armed with 3 remotes, my computer, sweet tarts for low blood sugars, my meter, water, an energy bar, a book, and my .40 caliber Springfield Arms XD Sub-Compact. The XD deters overly aggressive Girl scouts and their habit-forming, carbohydrate-laden, scary yummy Samoas. Shopping is Penny's favorite form of endurance exercise so I settled in for the long haul.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXKBj86tnqdiIyLLQ1Kz7ag_8F4svScAS3lsd17DGdiE_A7u9AY3WSZNnhiFCDSkoKC9E8dxFY8_wK57vb0OaU33TrRnFnl49FbWJqWUQgu2uaFZ9YtJTcd9AIUdc3HoJwMf4E4WsFL8ek/s1600/IMG_0133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXKBj86tnqdiIyLLQ1Kz7ag_8F4svScAS3lsd17DGdiE_A7u9AY3WSZNnhiFCDSkoKC9E8dxFY8_wK57vb0OaU33TrRnFnl49FbWJqWUQgu2uaFZ9YtJTcd9AIUdc3HoJwMf4E4WsFL8ek/s320/IMG_0133.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Get those kids off my d*#% lawn." And yes, I am wearing a<br />brown crew sock and sandel on my good foot.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">It was beautiful outside today. Its hard to believe I am going to be a mummy from the knee down all spring and summer. Since I was over 72 hours without pain meds and over 100 hours out from Mr. Jackson's favorite form of sleep aid (too soon?), I decided I deserved a Mich Ultra. Mysteriously enough the 6 page post operative surgery booklet is completely silent on ale consumption. Smoking is prohibited, so I denied myself the Cohiba Behike. </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 19px;">I managed lurching to the back deck with 2 crutches, a book, a beer, my mp3 player, and a body significantly whiter than I am used to at this point in the year. Presently, I am slightly darker than the the Trix rabbit. My first time outside since Tuesday felt heavenly. I reclined in my </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 19px;">collapsible Captain's chair and propped my feet up on its first mate, another lawn chair of dubious ambition. The UV rays put my mind at ease about any remaining hospital MRSA hitchhikers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">I am extremely thankful for Apple's cutting edge products and the internet's proclivity to enhance American productivity. Personally, engulfed in essential work, I now have personalized ring-tones for over half of my 226 phone contacts. I am particularly fond of REM's </span></span><u style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 19px;">It's the End of the World</u><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"> and Waylon Jenning's </span></span><u style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 19px;">Dukes of Hazzard</u><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"> theme. My chess game is solid again and most pigs quake when contemplating my newly developed angry bird launching skills. Don't even get me started on the thousands of Zombies I have eradicated.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 19px;">diatribeTwelve</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2619091800763218088.post-17643429144352832342012-04-12T13:43:00.000-07:002012-04-12T13:43:05.399-07:00A leg up<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvq7DQZW67s2ajveoJ-UBhYjOenCh0hHgYQ5R9QXK5R-8Wsxt02P_MVmL26BBtASmKHRfUTjnvcjsVv84ZN9552afU8jVTEGP0LpN2tQLxVikmJymk9oUe2LIKdN070OMRgqsWMcjG0Tem/s1600/IMG_0127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvq7DQZW67s2ajveoJ-UBhYjOenCh0hHgYQ5R9QXK5R-8Wsxt02P_MVmL26BBtASmKHRfUTjnvcjsVv84ZN9552afU8jVTEGP0LpN2tQLxVikmJymk9oUe2LIKdN070OMRgqsWMcjG0Tem/s320/IMG_0127.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to break things 34 hours after discharge</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Day 2 of recovery is boring. I am through the worst, I think, only 268 days left until I can lace up. After reviewing the web and following the advice of my friends and their recoveries, my neglected competitive streak kicked in. I took my last oxycodone at 3:10 AM on April 11, twenty hours after my cleaving for a grand total of 30 mg. I was thinking of unloading any extras at Middle School playgrounds after recovery. I could trade 2 for a used video game or maybe 1 for a Justin Beiber mp3 at the current exchange rates. On further consideration, I am unsure how 1 legged insulin dependent drug dealers fare under state run hospitality programs.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvljc3UehCPdlJKJMazMu6PtD07OXyUXTqN7AHBLpNW6NVgtAnxCIWnjCHoeRRELAXQPRPVu_1aDRZwJLTRkD-PcHPTN1PLxgLjPYyJ8EiksW3LF9yXwq-fkPDoGrDJg328nDq4hHn5dGJ/s1600/IMG_0111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvljc3UehCPdlJKJMazMu6PtD07OXyUXTqN7AHBLpNW6NVgtAnxCIWnjCHoeRRELAXQPRPVu_1aDRZwJLTRkD-PcHPTN1PLxgLjPYyJ8EiksW3LF9yXwq-fkPDoGrDJg328nDq4hHn5dGJ/s320/IMG_0111.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">3 limbed butt scoot lobster crawl.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I have been managing pain with ibuprofen since abandoning the big gun pain killers. Combined with elevation they have been very successful in keeping swelling to a minimum. As for pain, it is tolerable, but I am pretty sure my surgeon may have left his car keys in my ankle. On the plus side, not suffering from opium constipation, I am sure my protein consumption has resulted in at least 1/3 of my healing tendon's new construction. Envision a new strong cable, parallel lines of corned beef and cabbage fibers closely packed together, comprising the belly of my new brevis. I am hoping for Leprechaun speed or at least the capacity to banish all the snakes from Umstead park.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I wanted to create a loose template for anyone going through this procedure. In that effort I have composed a brief list of pointers which helped me acclimatize to my new situation. Immediately following are my suggestions for one to consider before a tendon repair.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">1. <b>Shave your head</b>. Ladies this is especially good advice for you. Having spent the last 48 hours on my back in various unheard of yoga poses, my head has rubbed into couches, beds, the floor, and pillows constantly. Add the difficulties of shampooing on one leg with the popcorn kernels and lucky charm bits that have ground into your hair while eating in a prone position and you have a great excuse to finally homage lieutenant Ilia's hair do from <u>Star Trek: the Motion Picture</u>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">2. <b>Get fit. </b>Think core over cardio here. I am very thankful that my 9 week running hiatus was partially filled with weightlifting, chin ups, push ups, sit ups, up-downs and 7up (diet). You really need to be in shape to be successful as an invalid. Focus on the stomach and upper body strength. I am very thankful for Penny's help, but if forced (and if the NC highway patrol did not look so unfavorably on driving after anesthesia) I think I could have muscled my way through this alone. Everyday tasks are exhausting on one leg so don't entirely neglect the cardio.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">3. <b>Move into a ranch style house or apartment</b>. There are a total of 27 stairs in my house, each with an associated curse word. I have to do the butt-scoot boogie to get to my bedroom and the only bathroom large enough to encompass my stuck out leg with the door shut.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">4. <b>Butcher and prepare several large farm animals</b>. Penny and I cooked pounds of meals and froze them into single serving sizes. I already wish we had more. When I return to work, everything is going to take longer. In retrospect I would have prepared a months worth of meals. A good suggestion may be to befriend an orphan baby pig. You can take care of him easily while he is small and then as he grows and you run out of food: ready made bacon. He might also serve as a comfortable foot rest to keep your leg elevated. Don't name the pig!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">5. <b>Trick someone into marrying you. (or be awarded a butler in an outlandish tv sitcom court settlement). </b>Although I like to think I could have handled the last few days alone, I have a long track record of idiotic ideas. I transitioned from Forest Gump type footwear to 8 miles in KSOs on my Vibram debut. I ran Grandfather mountain as my second marathon. Last year, I misdiagnosed a pressure abrasion from my heavy courier bag as a melanoma. There may be a few other examples. A good nurse is indispensable, and easy on the eyes. Note: your nurse should not be dressed like you (see hint 6). If your personality is really lacking or if you are overly heinous looking I would suggest getting rich as your first step.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">6.<b> Wear </b><b>Cargo shorts. </b>The more pockets the better. They are all I have worn. With your hands occupied by crutches they are indispensable. Not good for ice cream, open sodas, rice pudding, large cats, or popcorn. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">7. <b>Install a handheld shower head. </b>Handheld shower nozzle, milk crate, trash bag, and packing tape make for a decent field shower. Its slightly better than talcum powder and a mint. And if your at all European it doubles as a bonus semi-mobile bidet. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">8. <b>Blog. </b>You can literally make tens of cents blogging from the comfort of your own couch. Turn your sick leave into a lucrative second career. If you are attempting more than 1 pudding cup per week, you may want to try blogging about something more lucrative. Maybe pornography or cats on treadmills.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">9.<b> Bib. </b>I prefer napkin. If you are fancy you may prefer linen. Depending on your cuisine every slurp is wrought with peril when eating off of your back. As showers require a harrowing staircase journey, try to limit the amount of soup on your shirt. Tuck into collar and hope for the best.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">10. <b>Lap table</b>. Works well with bibs. Keeps hot computers off your wedding tackle.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO7U_mGq5VTJB7VmNqreIulQU0whXvELm7Ey3UCZo-SIWD3OoEYgTGpZITJWXPq32tgm3D43NVkxB7LLCbTg9Lg9aDkMWvxVW6F6A2JhecS7M04EeUfeaJYZpsJARpRZvkjo_lL5S5opSz/s1600/IMG_0124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO7U_mGq5VTJB7VmNqreIulQU0whXvELm7Ey3UCZo-SIWD3OoEYgTGpZITJWXPq32tgm3D43NVkxB7LLCbTg9Lg9aDkMWvxVW6F6A2JhecS7M04EeUfeaJYZpsJARpRZvkjo_lL5S5opSz/s320/IMG_0124.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The doctor said toes above nose for the first<br />four days.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO7U_mGq5VTJB7VmNqreIulQU0whXvELm7Ey3UCZo-SIWD3OoEYgTGpZITJWXPq32tgm3D43NVkxB7LLCbTg9Lg9aDkMWvxVW6F6A2JhecS7M04EeUfeaJYZpsJARpRZvkjo_lL5S5opSz/s1600/IMG_0124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"></span></a><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I did post my first crazy high blood sugar today. No activity mixed with the siren call of 1/2 cup of Penny's dry Lucky Charms resulted in disaster. Hit over 200 for the first time in a long stretch. I wonder if the inflammation of the surgery is playing a role? I managed a trimmed down work out with the hand weights. Unfortunately, regular sit-ups feel like they are pulling on the tendon. Better safe then sorry, I resorted to lying leg straight raises. Its hard to make sure your ankle stays above your heart. Felt really good to move though and I quit before braking anything. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJOnUczXdW5kRtezu-43Ejc0Vgi_8h5Rcbk5RQ99BQAuFqst_lgz3XoqUjud_ZNyRW9Q10Cdjg4fGj_HYNl6IjJJz2prubfwg3dO-TUXwOAv_t2n1J8645ger7ZoXzm9WgQapP5QOGVE6L/s1600/IMG_0120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJOnUczXdW5kRtezu-43Ejc0Vgi_8h5Rcbk5RQ99BQAuFqst_lgz3XoqUjud_ZNyRW9Q10Cdjg4fGj_HYNl6IjJJz2prubfwg3dO-TUXwOAv_t2n1J8645ger7ZoXzm9WgQapP5QOGVE6L/s320/IMG_0120.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day time TV is this bad.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">My Omnipod expired at 8 am and I will exhaust the 8 hour grace period any minute now. I have put a lot of thought into its position. The surgeon's pit crew had to prop me up on a bean bag pillow thing before knocking me out to accommodate it during the repair. It has been in my way more than once, anchored to my stomach/torso on my good side. I am going to place the new one on my gimpy side so I have a whole half of body to sleep on for the next 3 days.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQwTps9r_sxc8Uh5c6yfWj7_OzrdqoQ4zK5ivHkwfod9Gg-R_bHvjn51C5UAKl6DZNS50ch9uvseqpbOAT_Gzd9qKKMAGBi8pUWLfJx7L1VjzDPTqd-WBBw5nQ0LrXwLQTifpvLHuIT9N/s1600/IMG_0121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQwTps9r_sxc8Uh5c6yfWj7_OzrdqoQ4zK5ivHkwfod9Gg-R_bHvjn51C5UAKl6DZNS50ch9uvseqpbOAT_Gzd9qKKMAGBi8pUWLfJx7L1VjzDPTqd-WBBw5nQ0LrXwLQTifpvLHuIT9N/s320/IMG_0121.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blood sugar correction.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">diatribeEleven</span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18151762170904131400noreply@blogger.com6