Insult and Injury, The Report

I have a confession to make: I have not run for three weeks. Also, I don't always wash my hands after using the bathroom. So your pink eye probably came from touching a door knob somewhere I visited.

Long story short, that is my poo in your cornea. Wait, no. I meant to say that the three runless weeks are the result of either SI joint dysfunction, or a sacral stress fracture, or a knife wound with exit/entry points in both hips, or low-back gonorrhea. Some notable events of the injured time:

1. Desperately going to a chiropractor who began by asking me if I had ever aligned my chakra. Being ignorant of sanskrit pronunciation, I wasn't sure what Shakira had to do with anything, but my hips were lying profusely so I did not immediately bolt out of the office.

Girl, my base chakra is only like this because the pool is cold.

Next, he got me prone on a table that had hooks and levers, looking like it came directly from a turn-of-the-century insane asylum. He proceeded to hold both hands out in front of his body with the palms facing the floor. "Sweet!" I thought. "Impromptu macarena!" He then looked intensely at his right hand, and moved it tentatively. His left hand followed suit, with his concentrated stare shifting sides as well. Finally, his brow relaxed as he nodded and smiled, moving with renewed, lusting confidence towards the right side of my low back.

Upon realizing that his right-left routine was a kid-tested, mother-approved method to determine which side was which, I did not share his enthusiastic spinelust. Seeing my life flash before my eyes (primarily images of loved ones, children's cereal, and self-serve frozen yogurt), I scadoodled out of there with an urgent limp, past both an indoor mood tree AND a motivation poster of a smiling puppy.

He accepted Visa.

2.  The day before an interview, I wore my one pair of nice pants for a presentation. Getting out of the car that evening, I heard a loud riiiip. It both sounded and looked like there was a tear in the space-time continuum, with the wormhole opening directly over my crotch.

So, of course, I went to the interview in those pants. And because I don't know how to sew, the whole time we were talking, I was refreshingly aware of the breeze in my undercarriage. I actually thought the interview went great! That is, I thought it went great until I visited the bathroom 2 minutes later. My pit stains had a deep end.

"Strong enough for a man" MY ASS.

3. Corn-maze! Which is also what I call the toilet plumbing in my apartment.

"You're an ass." "No, you're an ass."

Anyway, after sucking-it-up, I realized that the time off from running was actually a chance to get stronger with quality time on the elliptical. I have a love-hate relationship with the elliptical, similar to how a self-aware sado-masochist has a love-hate relationship with vice-grips. [Side note: the Self-Aware Sado-Masochists is the name of a popular new band comprised of law students who say they are going to work 90 hours-a-week at a big firm, but only for a few years. Their safe word is "Rationalizing Depression." They realize it should be a single word for maximum efficiency, but doubling-up allows them to bill an extra 0.002 hours. DOLLA DOLLA BILLZ Y'ALL]

The workouts involve stepping on the machine, putting my head down, and grunting like a wild boar giving birth to a four-foot-wide pineapple. So basically just imagine the debate stylings of Newt Gingrich. I would ask you to imagine Rick Perry's debate style, but any temporary comic relief would be offset by your brain imploding like the Death Star. After those debates, I still think the best Republican ticket would be Poor Minority-Seeking Missile/Palin 2012. For some reason, I think Ms. Palin would be that campaign's weak link in the primaries.

Elliptical PRO's: Heart rate can get incredibly, floor-pukingly high (as in over 195). After a workout, the gym floor often looks like a Jackson Pollack painting composed using only bodily fluids. Definitely builds strength. And mental toughness/insanity. Also tones those tough-to-reach places for the end of bikini season.

Taking it to DA STREETZ.

CONS: It is not running. And people look at you funny. Though, for me, the second is probably unrelated to the elliptical.

I will get back to you on how it transfers to the road, which should be tomorrow! The back is feeling amazing, and I am so excited to rebuild. My guess is that, done right, the elliptical can operate a lot like cross country skiing and create a monster engine. However, in my case, that engine will support a chassis made out balsa wood and delicate flower petals. The goal is to run as close as possible to a 4-min mile next track season (before heading to my job in......COLORADO. Wooohooo!), and I can't wait to start down the path toward that goal.

Thanks so much for reading, and for everything else. The last few weeks were a bit frustrating at times, and the people in my life (both in person and online) made the time off bearable. Also, spending time with the most beautiful, perfect girl in the world helps recovery too.


/vomits on own keyboard, so you don't have to 
//seriously though, she's the freaking best, in every way
///looks into your disgusted, hateful eyes
////shamefully vomits again for you


You guys are awesome!

USA Trail 10km Nationals Race Report

Executive Summary:
6th overall and 1st under-25 in 43:39. Fabio, poop, and solo mud-wrestling ensue.


Pre-Race:
Law school has begun! September is blossoming! The British are coming! Of those three unnecessary exclamations, one is a statement of fact, one is the title of a harlequin romance novel, and one is the title of a chapter in that novel which describes the day in late summer when afternoon tea became extra steamy.

Fabio also can't believe you're not burning up in that corset.

You can tell law school truly is off-and-running when every sentence is a non-sequitur. Also, another clue is when excessive adverbs are inserted willfully and wantonly. Notwithstanding the truly shitty grammar, the semester has been awesome so far. I am taking 4 law classes (three are environmental), and 2 environmental science classes. Additionally, I am auditing a class at the School of Hard Knocks. So far, I've learned that, instead of kisses, we get kicked. Little does the professor know, but smooching me is a far more unpleasant experience than a roundhouse kick to the face.

With those thoughts swimming in my brain, I traveled to Laurel Springs, NC for the USA Trail 10km National Championships. My heel is starting to feel perfect, and the week before the race I had my best track workout ever. So there would be no excuses! Except, maybe, my basic inability to stay upright on technical trails. (OMINOUS GONG SOUNDS AWKWARDLY)

Brown fingers NOM NOM NOM.

I felt perfect on race morning, with bowels so lubricated that the lack of friction made it feel like I was pooping in a vacuum. Every ounce would be needed with 5 sub-14:20 5k'ers in the race, and a bunch of other fast people.

Lining up, the weather was amazing, with just enough rain to firm up the trails. I imagine the rain fell in such perfect proportions because Rick Perry prayed for North Carolina just enough. Thanks Rick! Though, in the future, you probably shouldn't pray for Vermont so much. After all, they do not interfere with personal decisions, and allow citizens to marry whoever they love, regardless of gender. Yucky!

Strip to underwear, toe the line, AND THEY'RE OFF!

I'll take a thigh. White meat please.

Race:
We stampeded over the opening grass section as the trail narrowed. I went out fast with the plan to string everyone out as much as possible, and the strategy worked over the first 2/3 mile. Then, the real descending began. It looked like we were approaching a freaking cliff! I let out a WoooooooooHOOOOOOOO as I led the pack down the rocky embankment. In these southern parts, they hadn't heard a rebel yell that flamboyant since the time of 70's porn star, StoneBalls Jackson.

I really don't understand the glorification of racist traitors. Unless they have sweet, bronzed pecs.

That excited yell quickly morphed into a scream of Holy Crap! as we all lost control on the insanely steep section. Luckily, there was a tree near the bottom that each of the first few runners wrapped our right elbow around on the way by, in order to make the left turn. The climb began instantly, with a pack of Bobby Mack (4 min miler), Jared Scott (LaSportiva Champ), Ryan Woods, Joe Moore (eventual winner), and me forming by the summit. It was awesome to run with those guys, and we stayed together down the next descent as Alex Varner (eventual 5th place, Dipsea winner) joined.

In retrospect, this is the moment I regret in the race. We were almost 2 miles in, and I felt good, but I conservatively let Mack lead the group along the valley. The trail was so technical that it played like a bike race, and I wasted too much energy with the surges. Then, on a slight surge around a downed tree, I absentmindedly took a step off trail. As the dirt gave way, I tumbled off the side and down the muddy embankment. It was only a few seconds before I was back on my feet, but the lead group had achieved a gap before the major climb at 3 miles. I struggled to regain my composure, and slowly closed the gap to Alex before the top. Reaching the spectators after the climb, Alex took off. He was just better that day, and his gap expanded down a long descent.

After headfirst sliding like Pete Rose.

My footing was increasingly a problem, which I think was due to a lack of composure. The brown mud caked onto my chest and face after 2 more dives. The Russian judge gave a 7.0, because I really sold the entry. Also, Russian judges are easily bribed. As the final climb loomed (with the famous rock wall), I was passed by Mario Mendoza (2010 Trail Runner of the Year). Finally, I woke up and hopped on his heels. We hit the wall, and he began walking. I took the moment to sprint/climb/get re-acquainted with the dirt, and opened up a 20 second gap that would hold to the finish. We crested the hill, and the suffering was almost over. I was covered in mud and blood. And had no GI distress, which is a shame. Waste of a convenient excuse!

All in all, it was an amazing race. I think I learned more about myself in those 43 minutes than in every effortless race combined. For example, sometimes this princess just needs to suck it up. Shit happens, and it shouldn't take a late-race pass to reignite urgency. Also, I really hope that Suck it Up, Princess isn't the next chapter in the harlequin romance novel.

Thanks so much for reading, and for everything else. So many awesome people were at the race, including Shannon (the incredible photographer who took the start pic), Anthony, Kim, Jason, Alex, and Duncan. Which I'm pretty sure were also the names on Beverly Hills 90210, or Middlebury's co-ed quidditch team. You guys are amazing, and hope your September is off to a perfect start!