The IT Band Giveth ...

and the IT Band Taketh Away

My good friend Dave had a blog post with a similar title. I feel a bit bad mimicking him, but there are worse people to mimic (Dave's good friend Ryan, for example ... ha, ha) and he hasn't updated his blog in 18 years (approximately).

With that out of the way, I'm going to tell you about the race I ran on Sunday. I'll be brief:

It was a half marathon and I wanted to beat my time of 2:08:18. I was ready and confident. Might have gone out a bit too fast but got to mile 6 in 58 minutes and thought I had it in the bag. Somewhere before mile 7 my IT Band, which has bothered me in the past - as in when I trained for the marathon in'05 went from a barely noticeable tightness in my hips to a shooting pain in my right knee. I played with my stride (shorter, longer, feet in a bit, feet out a bit) for a few minutes and then stopped to stretch. I made it through mile 7 but it really hurt. So I stretched some more, that got me about one minute. So I mostly walked and ran when I could through mile 9. Then it started to drizzle. I kept walking with a bit of running here and there and then it started to pour down rain. I wanted nothing but to high tail it to the finish which I could see, but there was the slight issue of the Hudson River between us. I don't swim in the Hudson River so I kept on going getting colder and wetter and more bored and miserable with every step. I finally crossed the river and emerged from the God forsaken park I was in and there waiting for me like a chariot was the lite rail that I knew stopped at the finish - so with two miles to go I took public transportation to the finish. I was honorable and did not cross the finish line - just turned in my chip.

I was with coworkers so I tried to be all "no big deal, just hopped on the train, wasn't my day" but I was a bit sad and cranky. Until I took a nap at which point I realized that I was ready and would have beaten my 2:08 but for the IT Band. And you can't mess with the IT Band - this lessened my disappointment and I went on to enjoy the rest of my day. Of course when I woke up this morning as sore as if I ran the whole race and covered in mosquito bites, I was a bit miffed. Talk about adding insult to injury.

As for the issue alluded to in my last 3 posts - I'm back to being content to take a let's see what happens approach. And back to being afraid to think or talk about the situation.

The End.

And it all Becomes Clear

The last two posts?  About a boy.  But you knew that, right?

And tonight?  I changed the profile on my phone/blackberry so that text messages and emails have a different notifying tone.  Because otherwise, every time I got an email my heart stopped as I wondered if it was a text.  

This is the metaphorical equivalent of starting to lead and stopping the dance.  You find yourself standing there awkwardly wishing you were still dancing but glad you stopped before you stepped on his feet.  

And now?  I'm waiting for the next song to see if I'll try the dance again or retire to the bar.  

Either way, it bodes well for the race on Sunday - the boy and running aren't related in reality, but in my head its as if I've got something to prove.  Or at least I need something to justify heading to the bar.  And for now, my vote for sushi won, so I'm off to dinner.  

Happy weekend kids.

On Dancing as it Relates to Life

It’s not that I don’t like to dance. I do. Sort of. I’m not very good at it, but like most things involving coordination, if you watch those who are good at it and take a deep breath, you can make yourself improve. Maybe not dramatically, but at least enough to make it look like you sort of know what you are doing. Of course, when those around me are “dirty dancing,” which was often the case this summer, I’d just as soon belly up to the bar. I guess it’s the Catholic schooled girl in me, I like to leave room for the Holy Spirit, thank you very much. And so, I’m left with people thinking that I just don’t like to dance and thus I don’t get many opportunities to dance. And it’s all fine. You can find me at the bar.

Because of this, I forget how amazing it can be to dance with someone who knows how to dance. And who leaves room for the Holy Spirit, thank you very much. It’s hard for me, because I … no surprise here … tend to want to lead. Which defeats the purpose of dancing with someone who knows what they’re doing. I was fortunate enough in college to have a standby, good friends-only guy who would accompany me to dances when necessary. And he knew how to dance; but, to make this work, I’d have to focus HARD on not leading and before I knew it, we’d be dancing.

I recently had the opportunity to dance with someone who knew what they were doing, and even after a few drinks I had to focus HARD on relaxing and only doing what he was guiding me to do. Kind of like when you get a massage and they tell you to let you arm or leg go limp. It’s HARD. HARDER than you think it should be since you’re essentially doing nothing … But if you try hard enough, close your eyes if you have to, you can be led. And before you know it you’re dancing and its fun, right up until you think about it and step on his feet.

And so, that’s what I’m trying to do now. In life, not on the dance floor. To focus on not focusing and see where it takes me. Its hard, really hard. But fun. Sort of. Right up until I step on his feet. At which point, you can find me at the bar.

There's Something Happening Here

And its exciting.  I think.  I don't know for sure, because I try as hard as I possibly can not to think about it.  Its as if I'm afraid that the force of my thoughts will make change it.  So, given this state of paranoia, I certainly can't write about it here because WHO KNOWS what would happen then?

But fear not.  I plan on running a half marathon this Sunday, so we can talk about that soon;)

Later, kids.

Two Years Old

On August 29th, my blog was two years old.

So, happy belated birthday blog. Glad you surivived the terrible twos. I hope three is a good year for ya.