I am not going back to school

Back in possibly December, I mentioned that I was applying to a graduate program at the college where I work. One of the major major perks of working at a college is, of course, free tuition! I'm pretty smart (i.e. I know some big words and don't cross the street into traffic) but I've never been much of a school person. However, I'm much older than I was during undergrad, and felt this was too good of an opportunity to pass up.
During my first year of work, I'd been deliberating over which program I wanted to pursue, and ultimately decided to go for my first choice, Publishing & Writing. This was risky on a couple levels. First off, this program is the most selective in the whole college. Of the 200+ applications they get every year, only 50 or so are admitted each year. Staff doesn't get any preferential treatment in the application process either - we are treated just like any other applicant and have to go through the same process, including recommendation letter, GRE, deposit, etc. I hit several snags in the process, including taking the GRE in a massive snowstorm, not thinking I was going to be able to get recommendation letters in on time, massive writer's block while writing my essay, and realizing via my transcripts that I failed Community Chorus sophomore year of college. Yep. I'd thought that was just some sort of bad recurring dream that I stopped going to a class and forgot to drop it. Not so much. Totally real.
Despite all of that, I managed to make it onto the waitlist in May. However, this past Tuesday I got the little ol' rejection letter. Wah wahhhhh.
I don't feel so bad about it, really. I tried, and I tried HARD. And I'll try again, I think. I can only take three graduate classes before I have to "matriculate or go home", and I've only taken one, so I've got the next year to dig in, get some As, and BFF it up with some of the professors in the department. So that's that.
I'm half going back to school, so I'm half running a marathon.

Yesterday did 4x400 @ 8:20/mile on the treadmill, then out to my friends' new house in the 'burbs to knock down some sheetrock. Which was AWESOME. Who knew I was so great at demolition?
This is why I work out/train/exercise, whatever you want to call it. So I'm the first person my friends think of when they need to knock down a wall. So that my hands are calloused enough from kettlebell swings that I can hold onto a crowbar without wincing and putting on gloves. So that I can knock down an entire wall in the time it takes both my friends to knock down half the same size wall. And so that afterwards, I can confidently walk into the Chinese restaurant down the street wearing jorts and a Doug Mirabelli t-shirt and order two scorpion bowls and still make it to work at 8am.

Race report and important lessons

Running as fast as I can - check. Ran the Smutty 5k yesterday with an "official" time of 28:06, six minutes faster than last year, two minutes faster than my personal best, and 50 seconds faster than my "pipe dream" goal. I feel like I put in about as hard of an effort as I could have without burning out or injuring myself. Patty also had a great showing with a time of 23:47, five minutes faster than his time last year as well.
The trouble started after the race. It was a beautiful, hot day by the lake in Newmarket. The free Smuttynose, chili, pizza, and wings were plentiful but as per usual, I wasn't hungry. I have a hard time eating after a hard run, even if I was starving before it, and that's not good. I had a small bowl of chili and a couple beers, and sat in the sun enjoying the day for a few hours. This was also a mistake. I got a horrible sunburn all over my back, chest, shoulders, and even legs. Normally I don't get any color on my legs at all and I certainly don't burn that intensely, but I'm on this stupid medication that makes me even more photosensitive than my Irishy usual.
We were supposed to go to a dinner for our aunt who had just graduated from nursing school, but about halfway there I started getting really disszy, blacking out, and throwing up. I spent the rest of the ride curled up in a ball half-concious. I got home, stumbled up the stairs, and checked my temperature and it was 102, so I took some ibuprofen and passed out at 8:30. It was kind of scary. I don't know what happened, but I do know I have to start eating better. Even if I'm not hungry, I have to eat something after I run.
So now my parents are mad at me, and I still feel like crap. Great.

All in all, I'm very happy with my performance in the race, but not at all happy with my performance in life.

Went to the doctor yesterday. She gave me a kind of cursory once-over and determined my hip issue was probably IT band related. I'm not sure that's all it is, but she's a doctor and while she might have been distracted by the swine flu epidemic, I will listen to her because she didn't tell me to stop running.

This morning, I got up early and went to the track for intervals. I thought the hardest part about this would be getting up at 6am, but I was so very wrong. I gazed out at the seemingly endless expanse of composite rubber and said incredulously to myself "I have to run around that things in 2:05? You have got to be flipping kidding me."
The schedule said 8x400 but I could only muster 4x400. It was both excruciating and exhilarating, and if my legs had been in better shape I think I might have enjoyed it. The left hip issue is causing me to favor my right leg, leading to intense shin and calf pain. Ugh. I am definitely booking a sports massage at Boston Bodyworker.
I limped home and did the 15 minute yoga for runners video. It helped.

My shoes feel like they're going to break, and my toes are going to scrape pavement, at any second. They're only six months old and I'm not a high mileage gal, at any time of the year, much less in the dead of winter. This isn't normal, but this is my body, and these are my feet, and my new shoes are on their way via UPS. With some fancy shmancy insoles. I'se gots to take care of me.

At the track, I noticed two different groups who appeared to be doing some sort of early-morning bootcamp thing. I think I need to get involved in some sort of group activity. I can only push myself so hard.

Benchmarks

I have a very haphazard weight training regimen. Actually, that goes for my overall fitness in general. I don't track my weight training, running, human-sized-hamster-wheeling (elliptical), or whatever other weird stuff I do in the gym. The only way I know I've made progress is because I've outgrown all the dumbbells & the largest body bar in the aerobics studio/nautilus part of the gym. I'm too afeard to even ask if there's a grown-ups weightroom in the back, which I suspect there is. Some days, I randomly choose a weight based on what happens to be laying around on the floor. Hence, I generally don't have any clear way to measure my progress, except "I feel better", or "I can lift that now" or "I can run three miles without vomiting".
When I first started working out, I could barely do 15 crunches. I couldn't hold plank pose to save my life, and was plagued with back problems from standing around in bad shoes all day without a strong core to help balance me.
Today, I did full straight-leg lying-flat-to-sitting-up-straight situps, holding 17lbs of iron over my chest. That's my benchmark, right there.

Well well well...

This afternoon I ran 2.9 miles on the dreadmill at an average pace of 8:55/mile.
Well hells yes. I guess there's a little bit o'badass in me after all.
I don't know if it's a bad old joke (the kind Dads learn at Dad Camp) or an episode of Looney Tunes, but there's some saying about hitting yourself in the head with a hammer because it feels so good when you stop. Same feeling? Fast treadmill running.

Anyhoo, I'm scarfing down ramen for lunch like it's my job. Why? Because it's all I can afford. Seriously. I've been assuming the economy wasn't affecting me, but then my brother brought it to my attention that the price of Tostitos cheese dip has gone up 80 cents in the past month or so. I'm sure that's some sort of sacrelige.
Also, the protein portion of my lunch today was a bag of honey roasted peanuts. Thank heavens for 7-11!

Resolutions

So today seems as good a day as any to start a fitness blog. I kind of wish I'd started in a couple months ago when I first decided to get in shape, so I could actually track the pretty decent progress I've made, but alas I am lazy and afraid to be all gung ho about something I might forget, and then have evidence of my failure when I inevitably slink off in a cloud of shame and self-doubt.

New Year's Resolutions are a dime a dozen, and I usually don't take them too seriously, but this year I made two.
1. Be physically able to run 3.1 miles straight. I didn't have to run an actual race, just make it for that distance.
2. Drink more Guinness. I live in Boston, where everyone is at least a little Irish if only from bumping into real Irish people on the T, so this one wasn't going to be a problem.

Of course, I mostly forgot about #1.

Anyway, a couple months ago I was out on the town with a couple friends and as per usual we'd all had about seven too many Guinni (see, not a problem). Long story short, some Leprechaunesque dude gave my friend Jenna some crap about her hair for absolutely no reason, and made her cry. I tried to roundhouse kick him in the head, but failed miserably and had to settle for an emphatic "You sir, are SHORT!" and drag Jenna off while she hysterically tried to extract an apology from the loser.
I decided then and there that I must get in shape, if only to defend myself and my friends from the collar-popping douchebags who roam these city streets.

So I started running for serious. Again. I've started and stopped running/working out/etc so many times I can't even keep track. The most I'd run before this was maybe two miles at a time, and that was maybe once. I got a Nike+iPod kit and started the Health.com 5K program. I liked this training plan because it started me off with more jogging/running than the Couch to 5K and I generally like running, mostly away from things like my problems. I started with 3/2 intervals and eventually got up to 4/1 intervals with a mile pace of 13:10 and last night I ran two miles straight at 9:28. Not a huge amount of progress for almost three months and certainly not awesomely speedy, but it's the best I've ever done and I enjoy patting myself on the back and giving myself ice cream cones for my troubles. I got so excited about this, that I signed up for a 5K! It's in less than two weeks and I think I might be insane. We'll see.

Just about three weeks ago I started lifting weights. Thanks to this totally awesome site, I was able to wade through the testosterone-scented confusion surrounding weightlifting and devise a beginning plan to turn myself into an ass-kicking machine. After the initial mistake I made of doing three sets of squats and not being able to walk for a week (I actually called out of work because I couldn't climb out of bed), I think it's been going pretty well. Apparently the cure for squats is more squats.

In addition, I am trying to overcome my fear of the gym, particularly the scary scary weight room. I don't even know where it is in my gym, but if I can get used to the hamstery awfulness of the treadmill I can eventually ask a Friendly Staff Member where the weight room is and if it is scary. For now I will stick with the small & medium sized dumbbells and not mess with the big iron.

So, this is about where I am right now. I have no particular weight loss goals besides not wanting to weigh half as much as Shaq (several years ago Shaq anyway), and being continually able to fit into all the clothing I currently own.

And to drink more Guinness.