Some pix from Scott's 40th

Hampster Wheel

I'm not yet used to these shorter days. I prefer to run in the evenings, when busy families are shuffling kids to and from various practices, cooking dinner and running around with other errands.

I like changing out of my work clothes, lacing up my shoes and using the miles to get away the stress of everyday life and out of work-mode.

But lately I can't seem to keep up with the diminishing daylight. I can no longer take my time when I get home from work.

Yesterday was no exception.

Sometimes when I know I'll lose the daylight battle, I just decide to skip the run. But with the Maine Half Marathon next weekend, I thought I should try to get some miles in.

So I headed to the gym. Unfortunately.

Don't get me wrong... I really like the gym. I like the cross training. I like trying my hand at weights. I love people-watching.

But a gym run is not a relaxing run for me. With 17 television screens flickering in front of me, the whir of the cardio marchines and the chit-chat of gym buddies around me, I can't just lose myself in the run ... can't let my mind go and get into a rhythm where the miles pass easily.

In an attempt to drown out the gym sounds, I cranked my iPod last night and started out slowly on the treadmill. I couldn't believe when I looked down at the display screen and it had only been a little more than a mile.

I felt like I'd been running forever. And I was sweating like crazy.

I missed the smell of the fresh air, the sound of my feet hitting the pavement, the changing scenery and even the challenge of dodging cars driven by distracted drivers.

In the end, I got my four miles in -- and noticed that gym runners don't run as long as outside runners -- and felt good about not skipping that run.

I just hope not to have too many Hampster Wheel nights in my future.

A Rose By Any Other Name...

I took the step yesterday (no pun intended) and changed the name of this blog. I even tried my hand at a fancy new header, which I think turned out alright. (No, that's not my actual footprint, although I did just have a foot scan the other day.)

The name change was something I'd been considering for a while. My 'jog blog,' as a co-worker called it, seemed to have become much more than just a blog about running.

Disney 13.1 seems like something from another lifetime.

What started out as a way to chronicle my progress toward running my first half marathon seems to have gone in a new direction and touched on the ways that my life has changed since joining Team In Training.

I don't attribute all of the changes to taking up running, but I do think that running has helped me focus on me and the solitary hours on the road have really given me time to think about where I want to be in life, eventually.

I'm surely not saying I'm even close to having the answers, but step by step I'm getting closer.

Better Than Running In The Rain

Congrats to Kate and Colleen for raising $800 at their party this weekend by raffling off a case of wine. (I didn't win, darn it.)

Joining them at the party was more enjoyable than that morning's run -- when we questioned our sanity after waking up in the early morning hours to drive an hour for the team run in the remnants of Hurricane Gustav.

Already cold and wet, we ended up getting splashed by a passing car, which is probably when Kate changed from saying that I 'inspired' her to I 'dragged' her into the program.

On the bright side, at least the car wasn't driving through the overflowing sewage that filled the street near the start of the downtown loop.

Here's a pic of Kate and Colleen looking a little drier and awarding the winner the case of wine. Clean up nicely, don't they? (They don't smile that much while running.)

And here's a pic of me with a couple of people I don't really know...

The New Team

The new team started two weeks ago, training for the Seacoast Half Marathon and the Disney Full and Half Marathons. Thanks to Ken (who turns out to be my former neighbor) for taking this pic.

Turn Where?

Shawnna and Jack remind us to "turn after the lions" in the downtown loop. These photos were taken during Jack's birthday party at the Red Hook Brewery last week.

Life Happens

The last time I sat down to write, it was 22 days ago -- most certainly the longest I've gone since starting this blog just more than a year ago.

Things have been hectic, to say the least, and I've been dealing with the ups and downs of moving in a less-than-ideal situation, conflicts at work, a saddening break from Charming Friend and the realization that I won't be running the marathon in October.

All in the course of a couple of weeks. Phew.

Although I'm getting back on track, the process has been slow. (I was referring to my running, but it seems like an appropriate description of my whole life right now.)

I had a couple weeks of no running at all, then a few walk/runs, then eased back into the miles -- but I'm nowhere near where I was in my training and where I need to be to have a successful and enjoyable marathon.

I tried to convince myself otherwise for a while, kept telling myself that I'd be able to get back in time to run the marathon, but as the days ticked away (who's bright idea was it to put a countdown clock on here anyway??), I realized it wasn't going to happen.

It took me a while for it to settle in and for it not to seem like giving up or failure. I know I need to remind myself that there will be other marathons and plenty of time to get ready for them. There's no need to push it and end up hurting myself more.

So for now I'll just focus on getting better, taking care of myself and supporting my fellow teammates.

A Little Anniversary Perspective

It's officially been a year since I joined Team in Training. I didn't realize it until last night when, as I looked around the room at Info Night, I realized that the group was weighing their options between the same races I'd been considering at my Info Night.

I almost didn't go to last night's Info Night -- but after a twinge of guilt about blowing off the team run and Dave's team party this weekend, I decided I should.

And I'm really glad I did.

I've been feeling a bit overwhelmed during the past couple of weeks. (Here are the highlights:)

I signed a lease on a new condo and have been busy switching utitilies, get flooring estimates, picking paint colors, cleaning carpets. Not to mention the weekend of painting that kept me away from the team activities.

I close on my house in a couple of weeks after a much-too-long and emotionally draining process of moving forward with my life. It's involved a lot of calls back and forth with realtors, lawyers and visits to my therapist.

Needless to say, it's been a rough road and I'm just glad I can see the light at the end of the tunnel -- I just wonder why the bumpiest part of the road seems to be the end. And I have a feeling it's going to get worse before it gets better.

And packing up and moving? Yikes, it's going to be a lot of work. Moving is tough under the best of circumstances, but when you're unsure what even goes in 'your' boxes (and you have to go through a lawyer to ask what goes in 'his'), it's even harder.

I thought a vacation would be a great way to get away from some of these things, to take a break from reality for a week. My vacation, which was the first full week I've taken off from work in four years, was good -- until the accident on the last day (see my last post).

Granted, it could have been a lot worse. But the relatively minor accident has added phone calls to and from insurance companies, paperwork, a round of physical therapy and put a temporary delay in my training.

Lastly, my relationship with my Charming Friend seems to be a little 'off' since we returned from vacation, maybe a bit before. Things are just different. I can't quite pinpoint it and I might be worrying a lot about nothing (at least I hope so), but it's been on my mind. To be honest, I know I need to talk to him about it, but with everything else going on, I'm just not sure I'm ready for a talk like that. Just not with everything else going on. Maybe I'm afraid of what I'll hear.

Yep, I thought Iwas enduring a lot. I started to question why the heck I chose this time in my life to train for a marathon. I must be nuts. Was I just testing to see how much one person could take?

That's what I thought -- until last night.

I was prepared to hear a mentor, coach and TnT staff speak at Info Night. They'd say the same things I'd heard several times before -- it will change your life, people will donate, you'll make a difference, you can run that far. (All are true, by the way.)

I don't think I was prepared to hear the inspiring and tear-jerking story of Julie, a woman who completed the Maine Half Marathon last year. Julie wasn't the typical TnT runner. Well, she was 'typical' in the sense that she didn't come from a life of running and quesitoned whether she could do it.

What was different about her was her personal connection to the TnT cause. In a quiet and calm voice, which sometimes cracked on the verge of tears, she shared her story of being diagnosed with lymphoma at the age of 22, right after graduating from UNH and moving to North Carolina for her first real job.

The doctors were unsure of her prognosis and told her she wouldn't be able to continue working while going through vigorous treatment. She quit her job and returned to New Hampshire to start chemotherapy, determined to battle her illness.

Not long into her treatment, Julie suddenly lost her vision. She hoped it was temporary, but it turns out that it wasn't. Doctors weren't sure whether it was the cancer or the chemotherapy causing the vision problems. She debated heavily whether to continue treatment, knowing that stopping it would allow the cancer to spread. It was likely she wouldn't make it.

But she continued on, dealing with her her vision problems that left her with only about 1 percent of her vision and only able to see shadows and differences in light.

For 18 years, Julie lived as a cancer survivor. But she still felt a need to do something.

When she received a postcard for TnT, she found the answer. She'd run a half marathon and raise money in hopes that no one else would have to go through what she'd gone through.

The thought of anyone training for a half marathon is impressive. Raising money for a good cause while you're doing it is even better. But a cancer survivor with minimal vision signing up? It's almost unbelievable.

A few days later she ran into an old high school friend, who'd trained for a few long-distance running events, and the two began chatting about TnT. They decided to do it together.

Together, the pair ran all of the training runs -- and eventually across the finish line at the Maine Half Marathon. Her friend 'became my eyes,' guiding her along the running route, Julie told us last night.

When the two crossed the finish line, Julie told us, she finally felt back in control of her life. Getting control of mine doesn't seem nearly as difficult anymore... at least for the moment.

Nature's Rules ... Part II

After my falling incident last year, a co-worker told me to look to Mr. Miyagi for some advice: "First walk, then run. Nature's rules, Danielson, not mine."

It's been a week and a half since the motorcycle accident and almost a week since my excruciating attempt at a three-mile run.

I'm anxious to get back on my feet, but am trying diligently to follow the doctor's orders -- and I have to admit it's really hard at times. The weather's been nice, I've had some free evenings and mornings with a light work schedule and I have an almost-new pair of running shoes next to my bed.

After my painful run last Friday, during which I noticed that I was digging my fingernails into the palm of my hand as a subconscious way to avert my mind from the pain in my calf, I decided to skip the team run on Saturday morning.

Well, not skip it entirely. I decided I'd still make the early morning trip to Portsmouth to support the team. I didn't even put on my running gear and shoes, so I wouldn't be tempted to join the run. I let Rebel tag along as an extra assurance that I wouldn't run.

And I know I would have been tempted -- the weather was perfect and the route brought the marathon runners along the beach. A nice run.

Instead, I drove the route (and noticed how far we run!), checked on the runners and picked up the water stop -- overall, an enjoyable way to spend the morning.

On Monday, I had my first round physical therapy, which included some sort of electric stimulation therapy, some laser therapy and a strange configuration of support tape on my calf.

My leg was killing me after two hours of therapy. I began to question whether it was the right choice (and, with some tears in my eyes, definitely doubted whether I could keep up with training), but I knew in the back of my mind it was the best way to heal -- with or without a marathon in my future.

I dreaded my next appointment on Wednesday and the massage they'd scheduled me for on Thursday.

The good news is that I woke up this morning with my leg feeling better than it has in a while. Today's therapy included some more electric stimulation, heat and laser. Then we added a bit of stretching and some take-home exercises.

I'm sure I was smiling when the doc gave me the OK to try a walk tonight and a light workout on the Elliptical in the morning, if I'm feeling up to it.

Massage tomorrow and another round of PT on Friday and Monday -- all in hopes of getting back in the running shoes and not falling any farther behind in the program.

Can't wait to get back to normal. But, I'll have to listen to Mr. Miyagi and have some patience (not my strong suit, I'll admit).

Walk first, then run. Nature's rules.

Crash Course

I spent last week on a relaxing vacation, enjoying my first camping experience and a motorcyle trip to Vermont later in the week.

I even managed to get in a couple of runs while camping in Maine. The change of scenery was nice and I'm loving my new shoes.

Unfortunately, my vacation ended with a bang -- and when I say 'bang' I mean the sound of an 800-pound motorcycle being hit by a minivan when a less-than-attentive woman decides she's going to make a right turn into a parking lot from the left lane.

The problem was that we were between her and the parking lot.

Yep, just a few minutes after we packed the bike and started on the 200-mile trip home, we were hit. I doubt we were even two or three miles from the hotel.

It's a funny feeling as you see the van starting to make the turn directly into your lane, knowing that there's no way that we'll avoid the collision.

Charming Friend did an excellent job trying to maneuver us out of the way as much as he could (don't worry, Mom, he is a good driver), but we still ended up with our left legs pinned between the van and his bike as we were dragged about 15 feet, the bike scrapping along the pavement.

Eventually we broke free, somehow jumped off the bike before it went down and evaluated our injuries -- and the bike's condition.

We seemed fine. No scratches, scrapes or blood. The bike, it seemed, had more damage than we did.

The woman immediately took responsibility for the crash, the police wrote up the report and the brigade of parents we were on the trip with rushed to the scene of the accident. Even though none of them were my parents, I still got plenty of mothering, hugs and concern -- especially after I started crying for no known reason.

I usually don't let people see me cry, but I couldn't help the tears from flowing -- despite the fact that it was a good 15 minutes after the accident and we were fine. Maybe it was the shock of being hit or the thought of how much worse it could have been if we'd been going a little faster.

Over and over, the parents (all six of them) asked if we were okay. Each time, CF and I had the same response: "We're fine."

I knew my left leg hurt, but I didn't say anything. It wasn't bad. I was sure CF must have had some aches, too, but he didn't say anything.

The bike's crash bars took the brunt of the collision -- thankfully CF had gotten them installed last year because he thought they looked good. I was glad to learn that these aesthetically pleasing bars also served a purpose and told CF that they were worth every penny he spent on them.

The left crash bar was bent and the foot pedal was twisted against the bike. We would not be making the trek home that night -- plus, there's no way the parents would let us get on the road again that night.

The guys in the group banged the bars and adjusted things until the bike was again drivable. CF's dad got on to test it out. It seemed to run okay, with only a slight rubbing sound coming from the front tire. A last trip to one of the vendors helped straighten everything out a little more and we made plans to leave in the morning -- after a slumber party in CF's parents' hotel room because there were no rooms left for the night.

We all took a dip in the pool that night, and CF and I quietly talked about our slight aches and pains, knowing that if the parents heard us, they'd be alarmed. I'm sure we would have been forced to go to the hospital. We took a couple of pain relievers before bed.

The rest of the trip home was relatively uneventful -- except for the rain that soaked us as we make the ride down 89. Otherwise, all was fine.

As my calf ache persisted, I began to wonder how I'd keep up with my running schedule. Thanks to a couple of runs on vacation, I wasn't behind. My original plan had been to get in my long run after we returned on Sunday. That wasn't going to happen.

Just to be sure all was okay, I made an appointment with my doctor's office yesterday. She checked me out and told me I had a 'crush injury' to my left calf. Nothing serious, but the muscle was swollen in its pouch and causing the pain. She prescribed anti-inflammatories and ice -- and just a bit of patience. Muscles take a bit longer to heal, she told me.

I told her I'm training for a marathon and she referred me to physical therapy to make sure I'm healing properly. A slight injury can turn into something serious if it's not dealt with correctly.

As far as running goes, I just need to listen to my body. My leg will tell me when it's okay to get back to a regular running schedule.

CF visits his doctor today, and I'm pretty sure he'll be okay. I least I hope so -- I hope he's not more hurt than he's letting on.

It really could have been a lot worse. I think we all know that. If a little ache and a few days of light running is the only price I have to pay for a motorcycle accident, I think I'm pretty lucky. We both are.