Happy Monday, all! Boston is in a panic today because of the looming blizzard (as a Western New Yorker myself, I just let all that crazy roll off my back). Yesterday I went to the grocery store after my long run and there were no parking spots, shopping carts, bananas OR tofu! Wtf. (My exact thought was “Ughhhhh…my legs are so sore. I do not want to deal with this.” But I sucked it up, and got all the things I needed for the week, and it was all relatively painless. Patience is a virtue). Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s back up the bus to Friday.
Friday night I had a luxuriously mellow evening. I also discovered Sons of Anarchy – um, hello Jax Teller. (If that reference is lost on you, I’m referring to the very attractive Charlie Hunnam who plays the tough and sensitive bad boy protagonist). Nothing that exciting happened. I was loving it.
Ah, Saturday. Usually Saturday sits in the place of glory as my favorite day of the week, but this one was not okay. My usual small group class had a make-up class on Saturday morning, before the back-to-back Spin/Body Pump craziness that is my usual Sweaturday jam. I put my cute gym outfit on, I ate my overnight oats I had prepped the night before, I even woke up extra early to brush the snow off the Marshmallow mobile.
As I was happily mid-brush (Wow! This snow is pretty!), I slipped on ice that was hidden under the few inches of freshly fallen snow. As I attempted to steady myself from falling on my ass, I stepped back on my right leg and somehow tweaked the spot on the back of my leg where your hamstring meets your glute. &%#@! I’m less than a month away from my half. I limped back upstairs to my apartment (with lots of cursing – don’t worry Mom I won’t share here), stuck a frozen bag of peas under my bum and starting sending out the S.O.S text messages to my trainer and gym buddies who were expecting me. I was so mad. At myself, for not being careful and paying attention to where I was stepping, and just rushing to get to class. I iced it for awhile and recovered my composure, and started to think this out. Stretching. Stretching would be good. I gave myself a little pep talk, “L. This is going to be okay. We’re going to stretch this out, and it’s going to feel better. The end.” I half dragged, half limped to a 90 minute hot Vinyasa class in the snow an hour or so after my internal pep talk.
Buckets of sweat and lots of Ujjyai breaths later, I was already feeling better. After class, I approached the instructor and told him my predicament. “This hurts, right here,” I said, pointing to my right butt cheek. “Would you mind giving me a few poses to really stretch it? Impatient Annie over here slipped on some ice and pulled it funny this morning rushing to get to the gym.” He smiled and gave me an extra 15 minutes of stretching and showed me how to massage the muscle where it was feeling sore. I felt MUCH better. He also left me with this nugget of wisdom, “Maybe you should take a day off and rest. I think your body is talking to you. You need to listen.” Lesson learned: be patient, aware, and take rest when you need it. I’m not going to lie – this is a really difficult thing for me. Daily exercise, for me, is for mental clarity over all else (i.e. the physical benefits, like how you feel like a rockstar of life, and how smokin’ you look, etc). Running and exercising help me to clear my mind as I start my day, and my spirit feels like it sparkles a little brighter when I accomplish something physical in the morning right out of the gate. It is difficult for me to listen to my sore muscles and take a day off. Then, something like this happens and I am forced to take a day off.
So, I channeled my inner crunchy self, and listened to my body. First thought, “I need bread. Warm, fresh bread.” I bought a loaf of bread from my favorite bakery and ate the whole damn thing (…Over the course of the day, so don’t get your judge-y pants all in a twist – and it was a small bâtard, not a whole round loaf. That makes it okay, right?). Second thought, “I need chocolate. Super dark, 85% cacao, melt in your mouth, vegan chocolate.” So I ate dark chocolate. And rested. All day. I did not attempt a short run, I did not collect $200, I did not pass “Go”. I did not even go for a walk. I kept that leg elevated all day and sent positive, healing vibes straight to my right butt cheek. And you know what? I felt better.
Sunday Runday – aka the time I *almost* pooped my pants running 12 miles.
If I said I was too embarrassed to write this, I would be lying. After I walked in the door from my run and this situation was over (and no Lulu running pants were harmed), the first thing I did was call my best friend, and then my sister, and told them this story, as I laughed so hard, tears were streaming down my face. Here’s a little back story. When B and I were training for our sprint triathlon, we read somewhere on a “Tips” list that you should run with a plastic bag with an extra set of clothes in case you had an accident. An accident?! Like when could you not control that?! We found this hilarious and played out what to do with the plastic bag of clothes during your race. Do you carry it in your hand? Do you put it in a backpack? Anyway, that’s when I first heard of that (also it was the first thing B brought up when I told her my story, when she stopped laughing so hard she could speak again), I did not believe it could happen. The instance of long distance runners (how do I put this delicately?) not making it to the port-a-potty in time was confirmed when a friend told me she made her girlfriend a sign for her first marathon (as a joke!) that read, “E, DON’T POOP YOUR PANTS” which is hilarious, and I started to realize, an actual thing (Oh, and FYI: E didn’t poop her pants during the marathon). I never had any experience with this until my 12 miler yesterday. I’ll spare you the details and just say, at Mile 8, things were not cool. Lucky for me, I was running through a town center where there was cafe that I sprinted straight into, and straight into the restroom, to the bewilderment of the Sunday brunch crowd.
I did not think I was going to make it the remaining 4 miles home, but I did it! To add insult to injury, other bad things happened to compound my digestive issues: my phone started dying (which I then put on airplane mode to conserve battery for the tunes), I mistakenly paused my run at mile 6.25 on the Nike+ app trying to change the song so it stopped recording my pace, and at mile 10 I stopped caring where I was running and my feet were SOAKED from the slush. But I freakin’ did it. I made it. And even though I’m omitting the more colorful details of this story, I know you all are a bunch of imaginative folks that can fill in the gaps. Think: lots of swearing. Anyway – now you know, bad things can happen to anyone (even/especially to the people that make light of these situations which, had there not be a restroom where it was, may have ended up differently). But you just have to laugh at it, because life is too damn short to be embarrassed. Plus, that shiz is funny.
So…what did YOU guys do this weekend?? Tell me your life story in the comments.
Happy Monday all! Stay safe in the snow today, if you’re getting hit with that Nor’easter! I hope you guys have a great day and don’t poop your pants. 😛 😉