Just because you don't want to be a quitter doesn't mean you have to be an idiot.

File this one under "lessons learned"

For the past two years I've been taking graduate classes at the college where I also work full-time. I've taken the courses as non-credit, while applying to the Master's program, with the assumption that, due to the quality of my writing samples, resume, and high GRE scores, I would one day get in to this incredibly competitive program.
Last week, after staying up too late too many nights to finish a presentation, I was sitting home with tonsillitis working on a 20-page paper, and I got a rejection letter. Another one. My second.
Surrounded with books and index cards and storylines, and Chloraseptic spray and salt water, and tea, I will admit, I cried a little bit, and I will not even be ashamed of it. And fever tears hurt.
However, there was a nice handwritten note on my rejection letter from the Director of Grad Admissions. The purple felt pen invited me to come by and see her if I wanted to discuss. So, all cured up on Monday, that's what I did. And so started the kind of day that, when all was said and done, felt like a neatly tied up sitcom ending.
I realized, after talking to her, that I had been pursuing the entirely wrong things for me. It was astounding how off the mark I'd been, and how swayed by the low acceptance rate that looked to me like a big red bullfighting flag with the world "challenge!" on it. That's all. All that reading and writing made me miserable. Stressed. Completely unable to write here, or in my other journal. While I absolutely loved my classes and the things I was able to learn, writing & publishing was not my track, not my passion. Re-ve-lation.
The Director relayed that while my GRE scores were "off the charts" (which, technically, is an impossibility) and all my recommendations were "nothing but glowing" that the committee shared the opinion I was now coming to. I was just not a fit for such a specific program. Then, she handed me an outline of another program she and the committee did think I was a fit for. And it was perfect. I'd already been considering it, before she mentioned it. Because writing, just for writing, isn't my passion, but commuication is. Revelation numbero dos.
I talked to a current student in the program, and that only confirmed that this was something I should at least seriously explore. By that afternoon, I'd gone from panicked to excited.
There was still the matter of my paper. I went and visited my professor in his office before the last class of the semester, and told him my situation. While I loved the class, and everything I had learned, the idea of writing a 20-page research paper "just for fun" was extremely daunting, and depressing. And amazingly, he understood. I'd been agonizing over this particular issue since I recieved the letter. I didn't, obviously, want to be a quitter, the person who dropped a class on the last day of classes. But, just because you don't want to be a quitter, doesn't mean you have to be an idiot. And I am pretty sure idiot gluttons for punishment (a category I fall into more than occasionally) are the only ones who would write a 20-page paper for nothing.
My professor, after a spot of being righteously indignant that I didn't get into the program after two tries, said that based on my work thus far and his knowledge of me as a student (I'd taken two classes with him) he would feel comfortable giving me a B without the paper. He said, quite simply, he didn't believe I would learn anything from the exercise, and would possibly leave the course overwhelmed, stressed out, and bitter. That wasn't his intention when he designed the class. And it just made so much sense. I am now totally okay with not doing the paper.
And all's well that ends well. We chatted about my research, which I actually found quite interesting, so it was like a mini book report, in a way. Then I went to the last class of all, and four hours flew by like nothing.
So, I've shifted my goals significantly, and I'm actually much more excited about my education and career than I was when I was relentlessly pursuing this particular goal. It's like a lot of things. I realize that in my running, I kept relentlessly pursuing the marathon goal, because it was the "holy grail" of running, but kept getting injured and sidetracked. I don't think I will ever run a marathon; it's not for me. And even when I say that now, I still feel a twinge of disappointment. But I realize that my goals reflect just as much about who I am than my accomplishments, and just because a goal is an impressive rite of passage that features on myriad Bucket Lists, doesn't mean it should be mine.
I'll be porting my application over to the other program, and should see, hopefully in a few weeks, if I get in.

Anyway.
On the running front, well, nothing. I re-hurt my ankle last night putting on pants, which either means I need to go to the doctor or just stop putting on pants. Today, I went to the gym for the first time since the tonsillitis, and did my usual "back to the gym" routine of 45 or so squats, which will, as it always does, render me completely incapable of walking tomorrow.
But boy, did it feel good today.

I'm still trying to think of what I want this blog to be, what direction I want it to go in. Obviously, it's not really a running blog anymore, and I'm afraid it will continue not to be. I'm too afraid to go to the doctor in case she tells me to stay off my foot, or that I have to have surgery. Without going, I'm not running, because it feels like all the tiny bones on the top of my feet are crunching together a bit. But, I can bike and I can lift and I can do other things, and without this kind of movement, I go crazy. So it's worth it, for now, to continue moving and forget about running.
But, there are so many other things I'd like to write about. It seems that the personal blog has gone by the wayside, and most folks post about one or two things. I don't want to just write a fitness blog or a grad student blog or even a beer blog, but I'd like to combine these things and other interests in a cohesive way that presents a sort of designed energy. I'll have to think on that one for a bit.

In just a week, the 114th Boston Marathon will take over my city, and I will love it. I, of course, will not be running it for so many reasons, but I'll be thinking of my friends and thousands of strangers who run while I cheer on my Red Sox from nine rows behind home plate with my favorite Yankees fan.

I still can't run. I'm going stir crazy to the point where I see people doing their longish taper runs before the marathon, in last year's blue-and-yellow marathon jackets, and I feel a white-hot stab of jealousy. Yes, jealousy, that in just over a week they'll be slogging out 26.2 miles of sheer soul-soaring agony, and I will be limping from my little red seat to the Fenway Guinness stand and back. This is utter crazyness. It's been three weeks since my last run. I've pushed through some stationary bike rides, and done so many lightweight front squats that my quads were in searing agony until, oh, about now. My brain's been so all over the place that I've actually seriously considered therapy. THERAPY!
Then I read this. Why.Do.I.Keep.Not.Making.This.Connection?
I used to joke, when I got into the whirlwind, honeymoon, holycrapicanreallydothis stage of running, that I did it because 'It's cheaper than therapy'. And yet I constantly have to keep reminding myself how much it really matters. Seriously, proven-research, MATTERS.
On the way home in the car that night, my purple swollen ankle wrapped in ice bags and on my friend's lap in the back seat of the car, I cried not because it hurt so much (it did) but because, as I whispered I have to run. I can't not run.

I'm not a good runner. I'm never going to run a marathon or an 8-minute mile. But, as I said in my last post, I need this. I really need it. I'm a runner, for better or for worse. Sometimes I hate it, but I need it. Especially now, with some of the emotional stressors that are wreaking havoc on my brain. I miss stopping on the causeway at sunset and laughing. Given the way my foot still feels, I don't get the feeling I'll be running for at least another month. I should probably just go to the doctor, but I'm afraid there's not really much that can be done at this point, and I just need to let it heal on its own. I realize I would be extremely bad at being really injured. Maybe I'm afraid of having to get surgery. Maybe I think that if I jut ignore it, it'll eventually heal or go away.
But I can NOT be sedentary. This is the longest I've gone without consistent exercise for the last two years. So I'm heading to the gym today, and hopefully every day this week. I'll report back on the effects of that, which hopefully will not involve reinjury, at the end of the week.

Pity party, table for 1 please!

A couple weekends ago, I sprained my ankle. Doing cartwheels. Yes, cartwheels. And yes, I am 29 years old.
Then last night I reinjured my ankle, running for the bus in the rain.
And this morning, I dropped a computer on my head.

I haven't been running since St. Patrick's Day, and that was after a two or three week hiatus due to a mean ol' cold. This sucks. I hate not exercising. It makes me full of crazy.
Today at lunchbreak I might try to hop on the bike for awhile. This is probably not a smart idea. In my current state of stagnation, I am okay with this.

Also, I had a small epiphany. It's really a repeat epiphany, but I don't like to deal with it's enlightenments so I continue to have it over and over again.
If nothing happens to me, if I do nothing, I will have nothing to write about.
Something has got to give.

Chicks dig not being the only chick in the weight room

After I get out of my ballet class, I hang my coat in a dented locker and make my way back to the "light" weight room. It's been too long - five days, to be exact - since I've hoisted some heavy things. I'm on to stage 2 of NROLFW and can't wait to start off with some front squat/push presses. There's a piece of posterboard with the markered words "WOMEN ONLY FROM 4:30 to 9:30". Normally when I use this gym, a city-sponsored club two blocks from my apartment that costs $70 a year, this room is empty. But tonight, it's hard for me to make my way to the old-fashioned squat rack to grab the bar. This pleases me, for some reason.
This is no Sports Club LA. The Nautilus equipment is newish, but everything else is dusty and there is only one clamp for the barbell, making squats and bench presses even more sweat-inducing than usual. I fear gaining strength, because the dumbbells only go up to 20lbs, and to use any heavier ones, I'd have to go to the "heavy" weight room. We can hear the meathead grunts from the other side of the gym.
The best thing about tonight is the variety of women lifting, pressing, pulling, and laughing. I see several pairs of women guiding each other through a series of moves written out on pads of yellow legal paper. Two older Hispanic women in second-hand track suits take turns doing cable machine pulldowns, one doing her set while the other one dances to the radio, laughing with a toothless cackle.
I hear "excuse me" and "may I work in?" and girls walk considerately around me as I do step-ups onto a bench.
When I jog home in the cold to make sure to be on the couch for the LOST premiere, I feel invigorated and happy, so far from the mess of nerves and blue I was while I was in Florida (yeah, Florida. I'm that ungrateful.)
I need to remember that I need this. I NEED THIS. If I don't move, I will stop.
It's that simple.

Oh hey internet!

So it's been awhile, eh? I bet y'all thought I'd quit, a'cause of the title of this blog and stuff. Faked you out pretty good, didn't I?
Okay, I jest. I was having a conversation with a friend the other night and we were talking about blogging and I said "Yeah, I used to have a blog about how I quit everything and then I quit writing in it".
Once those words came out of my mouth (and everyone laughed at them because hey, they're funny) I realized how silly that was and so here I am!
I've also been terrible about reading your blogs, but I'll try to be better about that as well. For awhile, I was really trying to avoid internetting at work but it hasn't seemed to up my productivity much, so I'm onto other avenues.

I will be honest, I did kind of quit running for a bit after Falmouth. It's dang cold here in Boston, and I am an unrepentant klutz and fall down enough just walking on ice. So I switched to primarily weightlifting, and I feel pretty darn good about it. In six weeks, I've increased my squat from 50 to 85 pounds and my deadlift from 75 to 115. I feel energized and my clothes fit better and my posture is awesome. I've been following the program from this book, and I love it. The nutrition advice, not so much, but it's really hard to eat that much and get all that protein!
However, I have been itching for another challenge, and courtesy of my friend M, I think I've found it - a wacky 12-person relay race. Timewise, it fits really well with the training plan for the Run to Remember half-marathon, which my friends J & A are planning on running. I ran it last year, and made a pretty poor showing due to major ITB, and that's not going to happen again this year.
Despite how dejected I get at my unshakable slowness, I kind of like collecting those race numbers and sticking them on my wall, dangit.

In addition to all that, I'm taking a ballet class at the L Street Gym on Tuesdays. It's been a long time since I danced, and let me tell you, you think you're in shape from doing one thing and then three minutes of tondues and bourres kick your butt. I did get upgraded from the Beginner class to the Intermediate class after my first Beginner session, but we'll see how that goes. I took ballet for over 8 years and could never figure out what to do with my arms.

My non-fitness related pursuits include banditing grad school for one more semester (11 memoirs in 12 weeks, 11 3-page papers, 1 45-minute presentation, 1 20 page research paper, 1 big "what have I gotten myself into?"), my recent guitar purchase (I used to play and then, big surprise, quit) and mandolin aquisition (it came free with the guitar), and decision to Julie & Julia my way through this cookbook.

Hope you'll join me in my quest to not quit any of these things in the coming year, or quit this blog.

Heart grow fonder

I've decided that running, like most of my relationships, is best when we don't see each other that often.
After a 3-week hiatus, and deciding I was in winter running retirement (and I mean "retirement" in the Brett Favre sense) I was overcome with the urge to take a quick jog on Saturday. A quick jog turned into a six mile run, at sunset, along the coast. This time, I was rewarded with the sight of a massive cruise ship leaving port and slowly slicing through the water, lit up against the greyblue sky, as I rounded the back of Castle Island. Despite my burning lungs and snot-covered jacket sleeve, I stopped in my tracks and let out an instinctive laugh of pure joy. It's a weird reaction I've realized I have, but it's certainly not bad. During a good, solid, "fast" run, especially around sunset, I often find myself stopping, staring, and laughing. Ahhh, endorphins.
Interestingly enough, after three weeks of not running, I ran a faster 6-miler than I think I have run all summer. Despite a hard wind in my face, despite my face insisting on producing snot rockets even though I have a strict no-snot-rockets policy. I've realized this past year that the less I run, the better I am at it. The bike intervals are really helping my endurance and leg turnover, and the kettlebelling is really helping my leg strength. My calves are killing me, though.

If only I could find a way to stop my nose from running so much, I think I'd run through the winter.

Instead, I'm going to get back to weightlifting. If I can find a time when my little gym isn't so crowded, I'm going to start off with a 2x/week barbell program with squat, bench, deadlift, and overhead press. I'll do the 30/60/90* intervals on the bike twice a week, and possibly throw in at least one kettlebell session. After six weeks of that I'll reassess and come up with a new plan!

*30/60/90 is my new favorite cardio workout. I picked it up, of all places, in Glamour magazine and it's loosely based on some popular class at Equinox. The basic idea is that for the first ten minutes you do 30 seconds hard, 1 minute easy; the second 10 minutes you do 1 minute hard 1 minute easy; third ten minutes you do 90 seconds hard 1 minute easy. It's challenging, fun, and makes time fly by. It even makes the elliptical difficult. I love it, and every week I crank up the resistance just a little. It's fun to see how many more miles I put in for the same 40 minutes.

Has anyone seen my 10-miler?

Missed it, again. But, I did have a great time tailgating at Foxboro/Gillette and watching a rainy Patriots win.
I am a bit worried about continually missing these long runs. I tell myself it's okay, since I rarely ever run less than 6 miles, and exercise at least 4-5 days a week. I also tell myself it's best to err on the side of caution, since my leg has been hurting after all my runs and I still worry it might be a pre-stress fracture. But it's still not a good way to train, especially if I want to actually finish this one without walking.