Great Expectations

 

"expectations are merely premeditated disappointments" --Wendy Silvers

to prepare for spring one must first:

detect fever, hear cough, look at sunken eyes

spend several hours at the pediatricians office

travel cross town to find the last remaining boxes of Tamiflu because "flu season is over"

fork over 120 bucks to cover all three kiddos just in case

pump her full of fluids and donuts (all she'd eat--don't judge)

pile on blankets, hand over remote

disinfect, disinfect, disinfect

chisel away at the ten loads of laundry that appeared overnight

work from home

run

[6 miles, 52:49, 8:48 ave pace, trail loop around the house]

make dinner

just. keep. moving.

8:30 pm, collapse

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Didn't Throw Up

 

A favorite seventy-something year-old friend likes to remind us (whenever we get fed up with current circumstances) that all we have to do is wait five minutes and things will change.

We know this to be true about the weather of late.  These photos mark a time lapse of 48 hours. Okay, so that's longer than five minutes.

 

It is Spring.  Time for change, growth, renewal, waking up. I'm following it's lead this year and waking up too. 

 

After proclaiming I had no plans to run any races this year or ever I have already signed up for two.  If you've been following along at all you know this is a first.  I've adopted a singular focus on running with mountain biking and slacklining as offshoots because I can't run every day or maybe I'm just crazy.  I even swam laps Monday for the first time in over 20 years.  I think that makes three times in my whole life I've ever swam laps. 

I'm spurned on by stories of people much older than me who can run much, much faster and farther.  It makes me want to go faster and farther too.

 

So with a little help from a book on loan from Clair (thank you again), I've started actual training without telling you.

 

I'm up to eleven miles at a 9:36 average pace.  Tuesday I did some speed work (interval training from the book) and warmed up for a little over a mile, 9:22 pace, then ran 3 miles fast with rest in between to sputter, gasp for air and regain feeling in my legs (7:22 mins; 7:20; 7:18) and then cooled down with a 9 min mile. 

I could have sworn I went slower with every mile but I blame that on a side effect of perceived effort.  Running is hardest when I want to quit.  And when it's hard.

All this is to say that with a bit of focused effort things can change.  I never ran like this before, maybe because I had no idea it was possible.  I've still got nothing on this guy.  He was amazing. 

 

My theory is there's something in the shoes (Clif ran in wellies), and this all may change come race day.  In my many years of playing tennis I practically perfected the choke.

People Get Ready

This isn't about running but it is.  It isn't about icing the homemade cookie cake with the homemade icing and exploding Ziploc bags (they made me do it) to get ready for the birthday party.  It isn't about lacing up my shoes or carb loading, pre-hydrating or plotting the perfect route.  It isn't about sending out invitations.  The minutia of my daily life isn't worth the print because you probably don't care.  Especially if you're not a runner or a mother.

I write best when I run, so I think.  I am eloquent, have earth-shattering thoughts and get goosebumpy with ideas.  Maybe it's the oxygen, the surging brain juices and electricity.  Perhaps I'm delusional.  Because when it's all over and I sit in front of the computer to type, my hands hover as if frozen above the keyboard and my mind is barren as a desert.

But the theme from yesterday's long run was preparation.  That much I remember.  Whatever I did to prepare was just the right mix to ensure a favorable outcome.  It reminds me of a favorite song.  A classic.  Goosebumpy.

Yesterday was the kind of day I'd been waiting for, anticipating.  Years ago when I thought my life couldn't have gotten any worse (but surely it could have) I knew there'd be sunnier days ahead if I'd just persevere.  Now those days are here and I wonder how things could get any better (but surely they will).  I realized in one moment that joy is the best preparation for sadness, sadness the necessary curriculum for joy.  Today, I will take them both.

Lemons

 

I was grumpy last week. I hate being grumpy because it makes me more grumpy.

 

So I reminded myself how good I've got it.  I read stories of inspiration, here and here. I ran with my son.  I ran through the winter wheat that's such a shocking bright green against the blue sky that I not  only see life, I feel it.  I ran a faster than normal 10 extremely hilly miles past picture perfect equestrian farms all alone and pushed myself when I wanted to quit to see if I would and didn't. I made lemon scones for my daughters and popcorn the old-fashioned way and wondered why I EVER quit.

 

In the end I realized I have nothing but a bunch of FWPs (first world problems) that aren't even problems at all.  And the next time I'm grumpy I get to do it all over again.

 

 

 

It Must be the Shoes

 

Please don't think too hard about what I might be saying in this picture.  Obstacles on mountain bike are still a new phenomenon, well not new, getting over them without crashing is what's new.  I swear it's not me, it's the shoes.

 

These shoes.  They are not beautiful, they're functional, they keep me on my bike (clipped in, had to buy new pedals too) and completely change my mountain biking experience for the better.  I can pedal while flying over roots and up steep, twisty switchbacks instead of trying for dear life to keep my feet glued to my pedals and failing.  They work.   

So did these, all seven or eight pair or how ever many I bought before they discontinued the model.  I'm having a hard time parting with them but when the toe turns black it's time for new shoes.  I ran a total of five times or 32 miles in the ones below and they KILL my feet.  My last nine mile run hurt from the first step to the last and I knew they had to go, it was getting worse not better.  I just look at them now and feel pain.

So, after much research and a few more coupons I'm branching out.  These had better work or my husband might start giving me sideways glances about all these shoes.  Really, this is not like me.

 

I guess it's my version of the nice dress.  I'd much rather spend money on the stuff that gets me outside pursuing some sort of physical challenge like the Marl Ravine Trail at York River State Park instead of wearing makeup and being fancy.  Man, what a fun day.  But that's just me.

Adult Diapers

 

I wasn't ready for adult diapers until Saturday. I hit the trails again for a blood-pumping two hours, pedaling through the cold, from the cold with my new best friend, a mountain biking game changer. Strangely they reminded me of work. There was the diaper factor, the wheelchair cushion-like gel.  Luckily I was using them to run into trees, derail my chain, hop over logs, avoid the dreaded endo instead of the alternative and by the time it was over I could hardly think straight. My thighs burned, my stomach wanted ALL FOOD IN SIGHT and my brain was toast. Nothing does me in more than mountain biking and this girl pushes me. She says she's out of shape and if that's the case then so am I!

 

To avoid wuss-dom and live up to my new motto that "I can do what I put my mind to" I kept my commitment to run eight miles with Mimi on Sunday.  I'm enjoying the outcome if I decide to just go for it, to see if I can take it, so go for it I did.  I may have had a close call with a passer by while relieving myself roadside (if I'd been wearing real diapers they'd have come in handy) and a few stray cattle on the road but I plodded along the country miles and felt new strength and a new blister.

 

Surprisingly I haven't yet crumbled into a pile of whining bones.  I've lost a toenail, my pants are getting tighter and I'm slowly learning how to train and eat and fit it all in.  But for someone who once thought three miles of running was her limit I'm proof you just never know what you can accomplish until you try.    

 

Lately motivation has come from thinking of the alternative to health and being overwhelmingly grateful for what I have.  That I can run and bike at all seems catalyst enough to brave the cold, to slough off the pull of lazy.  I recall other types of pain and realize that losing a toenail is nothing in comparison so I keep going.  There will be time enough for diapers of another sort but for now I am on one hand running from that day and on the other more than content to pause here and ride these for all they're worth.

Mission Accomplished

 

Excuse the grainy phone photo taken by the twelve year old on the couch but I didn't bring my good camera to yesterday's pre-run pit stop at Larry's.  There are several good things about this picture:  Friends, the run for the cause, the buckstove cranking out heat behind us warming us up for the cold run, but my favorite is Megan, Larry's wife, sitting atop her favorite horse in the photo on the mantel behind us and the silver trophy beside it.  I've never seen passion for horses (and animals) like hers.  It is a thing of beauty.  It's almost as if she was there in the picture with us, but in reality she was (of course) out riding.

 

We were down a runner, Mimi worked, but we picked Mike further on up on the road like a hitchiker or desperate running junkie.  We were a loose band yesterday, Mike peeled off from us at 4 to round his run out with 8, Larry veered off at mile 5 to eventually complete 13 and Clair and I stuck together for some coveted girl time for a full and tiring 10 miles.  I'm learning so much about running, my body, myself.

I turned into a pumpkin around 8:30, falling asleep in front of the woodstove while Clair went out and partied like Cinderella all night long.  Fair to say I'm still adjusting to the "long run".

Run for a Reason: Run for Sherry

 

Sometimes running is dangerous.  Unpopular to say but true.  My most beloved PT professor died of a heart attack while running the year after I graduated.  He was the age I am now.  He left behind a beautiful wife and three amazing daughters.  I know, I used to babysit them.

 

In other cases, runners are abducted and murdered as in the case of Sherry Arnold.  Scary but true.  Sherry was the cousin of a friend of a friend.  Sounds cryptic but not so much when I explain it.  I'm friends with Clair, who is friends with Beth whose cousin was Sherry.  Sherry went out innocently one morning for a pre-work run in her home state of Montana about two years ago and the worst of the worst happened.  She was missing for weeks before they figured it out.  She left behind a husband, two kids and many adoring students.  Beth is a big time running blogger in Colorado and this weekend marks the Second Annual Run for Sherry in her memoriam.

 

Our running crew is gearing up for it.  After this post Larry is now referring to himself as "Mother Hen" which I assured him is the highest of compliments coming from myself, a mother/chicken owner, and Mimi has designated us as his chicks.  Mike is the +rooster.  I've told them we need t-shirts.  This Saturday we'll be out there for another 10-13 miles, Mother Hen and the Chicks +Rooster, donning bibs in Sherry's honor.  We will honor life.  We'll remember how beautiful and precious it is and how swiftly it can be swept away given the wrong circumstances.  We will find power and strength in the group and remember the actions we should all take, men and women alike to keep ourselves safe on the road both from tragedies internal and external.  But most of all we will celebrate running and our ability to do so.

If anyone reading this is so inclined, you can join in wherever you are on either day this weekend.  Beth's blog has more details and you can print your own bib here.  Show us pictures if you go, we'd love to see.  Stay tuned for pics of MH and the Chicks +R, they're sure to be captivating.

The Detriment of Youth

a whole life ahead of her

I kissed my husband good bye early yesterday morning, before the roosters crowed and the coffee was ready, before the sun peeked over the barn and told him to stay warm. He told me the same thing, and to have a good run, that he knew I could do it. There were ten miles on the docket despite the sub-freezing temps and he knew I was nervous. Good thing I went with friends.

I don't know how he knew I could do it having never run that distance before.  He's under the impression I could run a marathon tomorrow and he's wrong but I soak up his assuredness, his easy confidence about my running that I lack. He doesn't seem to remember my failures, my aches and pains, the stress fractures, the hip problem that has plagued me for years and the ankle issues like I do. I feel like my body is a ticking time bomb of injury-waiting-to-happen. I remember how slow I felt when I was younger, how I got side stitches, tired easily and was frequently discouraged. He doesn't recall how I flitted from one thing to the next, never really dedicated myself for any length of time to one thing, always getting sidetracked and making excuses. Why now at 42 are things better? Don't we get more decrepit as we get older?

Assuming the reason had something to do with my brain more than my body, I went in search of the answer. Let's keep in mind I am not fast, and have yet to run a race, I'm just saying running is more enjoyable and easier for me now than it ever has been and I wanted to know why. I found an article on BlogHer entitled "Late Bloomer Jocks-Older Women Runners Train Hard and Run Fast". Hmmm. In it the author cites a researcher who among other things asserts "older women may be faster because, oddly enough, they are trying harder than younger women and discovering for the first time what they are capable of" and that "the experience for women as 'a kind of wakening, an epiphany'". Okay, maybe that's part of it. But I think it has more to do with what I tell myself inside. I think it has everything to do with where I am in life, yes, with maturity.

I believe our pursuits, or whatever we dedicate ourselves to as we age, whether it be running or painting or piano, writing, etc., has in part to do with the following:

giving ourselves permission
not feeling guilty, selfish or self-centered for self-discovery
grabbing fun by the hand and running with it (no pun intended)
focus
dedication
study, concentration, research
a positive attitude (I can do it!)
belief in something bigger than ourselves (get outside your head, girl!)

It's also important to note, that my twenties were full of self-sabotage.  They were Jekyl and Hyde years, while I was on the one side studying my tail off then starting a career, they were also full of partying and eating poorly. It's hard as hell to run well with a hangover and a belly full of takeout. My thirties were spent pregnant, nursing, recovering from being pregnant, and glued to three little ones so there's all of that to consider too. I suppose now it's time I do something for myself.

But more than that is the transformation of my mind.  I've drifted away from the naysayers in my life, the negative forces that consistently, repeatedly dragged me down and reminded me I was worthless and unimportant. Wrong. Invisible. At the moment I broke free and stuck up for myself if you will, things changed. I taught myself to knit. I started my own business. An Etsy shop. A blog. I dabbled in photography. Family life changed for the better. Things have incrementally improved since that day (after they first got exponentially worse).

Now the road accepts all of my days. The wind listens to my happy thoughts and dries my tears, and God is with me on the run. 

I finished those ten miles yesterday, full of brain fog and good fatigue and parked myself in front of the woodstove after.  I watched two movies and five kids.  I am fine, just like my husband said I'd be.  It was cold as hell on those back country roads and I thought I'd barf the pancakes I had for breakfast, they were a poor pre-run choice.  Note to self.  I ran with my friends, my crew, Clair, Larry and my 20 year PT bestie, Mimi.  Without them it wouldn't have been the same, I might even have given up.  It's the support from those who love you that make anything possible. I wish I knew that in my twenties.  I'm glad I know it now.

Bathing in Lazy

 

I don't relax well.  Sure I have moments where everything goes to jello but they're fleeting and few.  It's not that I don't need to relax, I do, but the pull of all there is 'to do' is much greater than the voice telling me to sit down.  This body is usually on the move.

 

One good by-product of running longer distances is fatigue.  I ran on Saturday with a new crew of old friends, Clair (whom you may know), her husband, Mike and our buddy, Larry, pack leader.  It was perfection.  We were four forty-something's churning out the miles on a crisp winter day running the picturesque back country roads.  We chatted it up and I giggled every time Larry signaled us about oncoming cars like a mother hen because he really is that nice.  Father protector.

 

By Sunday my body was tired.  My mind was tired from loose thoughts needing rounded up, so I made rest my goal.  After my usual coffee and meditation time I began Sunday morning in front of the woodstove and didn't move for four hours.  I sprawled on the floor and got lost in cooking shows, let my daughters play with my hair and watched them make a huge mess in my yarn and beads. My son disappeared into the world of Minecraft.  I submerged myself in a big ol' bath of lazy and dragged myself to shower around lunchtime.  One long, slow, do-nothing, sloth-like morning is about all I can muster but it is enough to reset what needs resetting.

I'm eyeing a new (small) race, the trail could make things interesting and provide a memorable baptism into the world of racing.  Four hours is a long time to ponder such important things.

Running, Resilience and Marky Mark

 

It was date night last Saturday so we went to dinner and then saw Broken City.  We'd been waiting for it, fans of the lead actor, or as my husband says, "I love me some Marky Mark" (who remembers the early 90's?).  I don't have to convince him to go see a movie starring Mark Walhberg, he thinks he's dragging me. 

 

It's not one for those averse to violence, cussing, or mortal sin, but rather a study of all three, a good, hard look at human nature with plenty of Hollywood drama thrown in. I sat there curious more than anything about the back story of the lead actor (as I often am), wondering about his real life's journey. I assumed Marky Mark's story was troubled and had to look him up.  Sure enough I found the tale of a former 13 year old coke addict, gang member prone to assult-turned long-time married successful father of four.  He attributes his turn around in part to a special priest who put him on the right path, the wake up call only prison can give, and reportedly attends daily Catholic mass. 

 

Just like an American movie, his life seems (on the surface anyway) to have had a happy ending, or middle as it were.  We all like happy middles, overcoming the odds, turnarounds, the underdog, triumph over tragedy, stories of resilience.  At least I do.

 

If I had to pick a word or a theme for myself this year, or something to strive for I'd pick resilience.  I thought about it before I went to see the movie. I've been mulling it over for some time.  Mr. Mark is resilient.  It's a hopeful word, a pick-yourself-up-and-dust-yourself-off kind of word.  It conjures images of coming back stronger, better, brighter with a whole new outlook.  Like a rubber band only improved. 

 

For whatever reason, call it a perfect storm (stormy, yes), I've felt a flip of the switch inside.  A change in perspective from swimming upstream to down, difficult to easy, complicated to simple, work to play, guilt to pleasure.  I'm reminded that every day is a do-over, a chance to start again, create the life I was intended to live, and to run with it.  And run I shall, I'm eyeing some ways to keep my feet busy this year and have plenty of company for the ride which is perhaps the best part, the icing on the cake.

As far as Mark Wahlberg goes, I'll continue to see his movies with my husband and I'm glad he's still alive.  I don't miss his days as a rapper/hip-hop artist, but I wish they hadn't cancelled his brother's TV show, now that was some good stuff.

Run rain run

 

Yesterday I ran in the rain and now my husband and both of the kids' bus drivers think I'm crazy.  The one with the crochety voice, snarled lips, lap blankets and who puts the heat on when it's 70 degrees out especially.  I've run in the rain before, my husband even ran in the rain that morning, but somehow when I do it it's weird and to that I say, poo.

 

My little blue jacket was a wise investment and kept me perfectly dry underneath, 'cept for the sweat.  My hands and feet were soggy but once I got going the water was no problem, I was focused, stopwatch in hand, repeats the goal. 

 

I have a stack of new books thanks to friends and I'm hopping from one to the next, feeling incrementally inspired as I go.  I also have a plan and in the wise words of my friend, Larry, "plan your run and run your plan".  Larry, I'm trying.

 

What's a little weather when you read a book about a guy who has run through every kind of storm, or when you read about your friend's adventure race in Borneo where she wound up with staph infections, 400 leech bites and lung flukes afterward and shrugged it off like the rest of us would a bad haircut?  I've started Chi Running and am thumbing through Run Less Run Faster on loan from Clair as well as The Runner's Diet so I can learn what I'm doing wrong there, I'm sure there's plenty.  And then there's a little book about healing, for the inner me, something I can only take in small doses but it's time and it's a good accompaniment to my daily meditation.

 

Whatever comes of all of the reading/running/biking the silver lining is this:  I am fully distracted and not perseverating on how much I dislike winter.  I dare to say I am finding just as much opportunity in winter as summer and if the weather gets a little hairy there's always the treadmill. As I write this I also see I'm not alone in my pursuit of wetness and fitness, that Clair also plans a full on dreary, rainy, winter run today and to that I say, it sure is good to have crazy friends.

 

 

Why run?

 

I thought about the thousand different reasons people run, everything from getting in shape to losing weight to accomplishing personal goals.  But when it comes to why I run, why I've always run, what it really all boils down to I came up with three reasons:

 

1.  I like it

2.  It's fun

3.  (at the present moment) I can

 

Of course I can go into much more detail than that, breaking each item down into sub-parts but I might lose you so I won't.  My husband says I like the idea of fleeing and he makes his index and middle fingers run down the arm of the couch when we discuss it, and in a way he's right and uses an interesting choice of words.  Fleeing without running away.  Yes.

 

I'm planning on running more in 2013, big foot in big mouth, thanks in part to two very strong supporters:  husband, Clair, both of whom apparently believe more in my abilities than I do in myself.  Funny what some people see in you that you don't see in yourself.  I plan to remedy that, maybe fake it a little till I make it, or just give up on perfection, get over it, get over myself, get on with life. 

Rekindled

When he said he was going to start running again I nearly jumped out of my chair I was so excited. This was the final frontier of our marriage, I told him, the one last thing that we could do together that I thought we were missing out on, running.

When we met over 14 years ago he ran on average four nights a week, ate fast food as much as possible and had a fridge full of beer, you know, the life of a bachelor. As time went on, all of the above have practically disappeared, you know, the life of a happily married man. Even he will tell you that. But for reasons beyond this post the running is returning and I am a happy woman.

Our first foray out onto the trail went something like this:

me: "I love this! This is so great, I'm so glad you're doing this again, I love having someone to run with!" I blurted, bouncing along as we went.

him: "Yeah. Great." huff. puff.

me: "I mean, I know you're doing this for yourself and all, but I'm so glad you're taking an interest again in something I like to do, this is so much fun!!" leap! leap!

him: "Humph." plod. plod.

And that's about how those first couple of runs went, but as he's gone more and more the ease and natural grace of a former athlete has come back, the stride has returned and today we ran in quiet unison, headphones on, through the trail. A few surprise Rocky punches into mid-air for effect and some backward running purely for my amusement were the clear indication that at 40 we are far from old, dated perhaps, but the spirit of youth remains as we refuse to let it go. The only thing that made it better was hearing this song, at just the right point in the run, and that yes, there was nothing holding us back. A happy woman.

Reprieve

much
needed
run

feels like I've been climbing uphill all week so I decided to hit fatigue head on and force it out by going for a run

either it's going to work or get worse

had to try out a Mother's Day gift (shirt) from Kevin who was outside cheering me on, "GO AMY GO" with each loop around as if I was in a race or something

we cracked ourselves up

I said, "I feel like I'm 80!" as I raised my index fingers triumphantly

"You look like you're 20!" he said

gross exaggeration but a girl can dream

sometimes he knows just what to say


Market Report for tomorrow (5/17): 78 degrees and sunny. 5-10 mph winds so I'll have to tether things down but I'll be there! Here's the link for times, directions and the vendor lineup. It wasn't up yet when I just checked it, but should be soon I would think.

The jewelry selection is ever changing and if I finish it I'll have the 0-6 month version of the pink baby sweater I posted about last week. That and a couple of different hats and the blue baby booties and hat from yesterday.

Come out if you can! I'll have the girls for part of the time which means honey sticks all around.

Writing on the run or, the other side of pretty

I'm such a creature of habit it's embarassing. I follow the same little .6 mile loop over and over around the house every time I run, and never change my direction. It works, I like my loop and I don't have to think to run, I just point myself in the right direction and my feet do the rest. But when I was trying to figure out the cause of my achy ankle I realized I made a whole lot of right hand turns putting strain on one side. So yesterday I decided to reverse my direction. Simple it would seem, but not necessarily for a girl so deeply entrenched in a routine and a little obsessive to boot.

I gave myself a pep talk and started making mental notes, that I would have to pay attention this time so as to not get off track. I picked a song (I always play a song in my head on continuous repeat), this time it was "Mothers of the Disappeared" by U2, we had just watched "Rattle and Hum" the night before. I love U2. In the other available space in my brain I have a conversation going with myself. The words often end up being something I would write if I had a pen in my hand, but instead I just play them over and over, refining and editing as I go. I like how God planned it, that music is a separate part of the brain so I can entertain myself and have a mental conversation simultaneously. By now you're thinking I'm crazy, but to that I just say I'm exercising both sides of my brain, preventing dementia thank you very much.





I was running along thinking about the metaphor in looking at the same path from a completely opposite view. Simple, trite even, but worth pondering nonetheless. What happens when we go against the routine and look at things from a different direction, a new perspective? A novelty for the obsessive-compulsive folks in the room and even a little scary. The section of run on the gravel drive to the road and the barn wasn't much different. But for the route through the field and the woods behind the house it was another story. This is my favorite section of run anyway, the trees are beautiful even bare as they are right now and the way the sun hits the tops of the branches takes my breath away.






I felt like I was on a completely different piece of property and even tried to make a few wrong turns at first. I was congratulating myself on being able to break routine. Look how much healthier I am! I thought. It's the same reaction I have when I look around at my messy house. I'm able to tolerate chaos without thinking I have to control it all. But a little sadness creeps in, I know I have so far to go. And although I don't think this new route ended up being any better for my ankle, it sure was worth it if only so I could let go of a little more, and see the other side of pretty.

Yippee!

Yesterday's run confirmed it...what I thought was the beginning of a yucky ankle problem is NOT! I went 4 miles before I really started to feel the twinge and so I stopped. I can't quite believe I had that much restraint, but I'm trying not to screw things up. I did my usual ice afterward and later last night which really helps. Now mind you it was a cautious sort of trot but I'm thrilled not to be sidelined. My brain needs the extra oxygen running affords, without it (like today) my thoughts seem to puddle and I wander around wondering what to do next.

I did get the sideways look from my father-in-law and the comment "you sure have been running a long time" to which I responded "I feel GREAT!" and gave my best two-fisted "Rocky-esque" punch into the air. I guess he knew about my bum leg--gotta be careful what I write! Unfortunately for him I later went into a 10-minute long PT spiel about the numerous and far reaching effects of exercise. I was getting too preachy for my liking (or maybe the car ride ended) but I don't think he bought my argument, at least not for himself!

I had to give Sundance a break today. After finishing the sleeves I noticed a few problems:

1. despite all balls being the same dye lot, one of the sleeves is discolored. white! what was I thinking?

2. somehow the same number of decreases on the sleeves and the back have turned out to be different lengths. Kevin said, "they look like they're different angles". yes, honey they sure do!

3. and now I want to start another one in a different color (I'm even looking online for more yarn) before I finish the first one.


Don't worry! (as if you would) I will do a little dismantling, add some more decreases and lenth to the sleeves and be on my merry way. The knitting brain just needed a good de-fogging, which I'm not so sure it got, but will be back in action tomorrow. The best excuse not to knit also came--the Feb. issue of Country Living Magazine!

By the way, has anyone noticed how screwy the spacing gets on my posts that have pictures? I've tried to fix it numerous times and it seems to just have a mind of its own. If anyone has the solution, pass it my way!

Sundance sweater: the debut

I'm sitting here on the bed with leg on ice. The little ankle problem I mentioned is not going away. I babied it for a 3 mile run on Sunday and one today but the feeling is eerily similar to stress fractures I've had in the past. Luckily it's on the small bone in my lower leg and doesn't seem as bad as the others I've had. If I push it (which I'm on my way to doing) it will end up that way so I need to back off.


I feel like I'm in a battle with health. I like to think my body is on my team but sometimes I think we're against each other. I've worked so hard to exercise as I'm convinced it is the antidote for staying out of the doctor's office for other health problems. I haven't been in one since summer and plan to keep it that way. I just pushed it too fast though, and increased my running frequency, distance and even speed. A certain recipe for stress fracture. Looks like I need to get the bike out.



I'm through my first ball of yarn on the Sundance sweater and it's going well (I hope). I'm not doing as much shaping at the sides as I originally intended but think it will be nice anyway. I'm getting a beachy feel from it already, which may be why I've been researching a family beach vacation this summer. See what you think:

Just realized a diamond is missing out of my wedding ring--off to search!