They tried to make me go to rehab . . .

. . . .and I said, "No, no, no!"

Then I ran the San Jose Rock and Roll half marathon.

I definitely pushed the race a bit more than I should have. This course is my personal record (2010), back when I was training for half marathons specifically. I wasn't completely sure how this year would go, but I had a couple of theories, 1) I could push with all of my might and be close to my PR beause this year has been epic. So why not one more?, or 2) I would not be anywhere near my PR because I haven't trained specifically for running this year, and let's face it, I'm tiiiirrred.

And it was #2. I pushed probably harder than I should have in this state, and ended up with some sore feet and hamstrings. Oh well. If you are epic all the time, what else do you have to work on, right? Right?

So, on Sunday, October 7th, after running 13.1 miles, I decided to check myself into rehab. I took an entire week off - no running, no gym, no bike, no swim - nada. I was kind of confused about what to do with my time. It was like being locked in a padded cell (my bed), all drugged up (ibuprophen), and being forced to watch TV (baseball, football, Presidential debates). It was pure hell.

I kid. I actually did go out and socialized a bit, and even did some day-drinking at the local Oktoberfest celebration. I didn't even run the Oktoberfest 5K! (Although, I was tempted.) Yeah, I had a bunch of beers that day. Woo hoo! I was asleep on the couch by 6:30. Don't judge me.

On Sunday, October 14th, after a week of coming home early, watching baseball, football and Presidential debates on TV, I went out for a run on the good ole' Los Gatos Creek Trail. 5 miles later, I was still too far from home and decided to walk the last 2 miles. Probably a good idea.

The rest of the week I kept it as easy as possible:

- I did a bunch of stretching at the gym.

- I walked a mile around a track. Walking. I know. Crazy.

- I discovered a ganglion cyst on my ankle/foot. It doesn't hurt, and although it's an odd injury, my doctor insists it's better than a sprained ankle. But, doesn't ganglion cyst sound super disgusting? "What are you dressing up as for Halloween this year." "Oh, I'm going to be a ganglion cyst!"

- I joined a Triathlon Club and swam with them for the first time. They seem like good people. It was nice to get back in the pool, and swimming is nicer on your body than running, although jumping into a lane with a bunch of triathletes after not swimming for an entire month definitely got my blood pressure up.

- I bought new running shoes. Note: they are exactly the same running shoes, just a new pair.

- I test-drove/rode a really nice bike that is too expensive for me right now. Time to save my ducats in order to buy a bike that will be worth more than my car. It's got to be worth more than the pathetic trade-in value on my car for sure.

This week has been a bit more of a pick up. I have an Excel spreadsheet of workouts leading up to a marathon on January 20th in Arizona; I'm still not sure if I want to go through with training for an entire marathon (I've never done one), or continue to rehab until I'm unconscious from cheese and wine after the holidays. This happens every year. Maybe this year will be different . . .  or not.

My rehab has been confusing, and a bit of a letdown. I spoke with a coach last night who said this is normal for people who have put themselves through strenuous activity for the past, er, 9 months. On one side, I still want the drugs (endorphins) but on the other hand, the drugs aren't working very effectively right now. I've considered an herbal cleanse. I've considered taking winter courses. I've considered taking on a side project. But all I really want to do is find that endorphin high again.

Maybe I'll start knitting. No, no endorphin high from knitting.

Girl needs a makeover

The "Bowllet" makes me sad.

I worked a lot on myself internally this summer, but it seems I've let the outside go a bit. Time for some maintenance.

My buffness makes me feel like a million bucks, but I hate my clothes and don't want to spend a million bucks buying new clothes that I don't like. During one lunch this week, I went to Nordstrom to try on come colored jeans; it ended up being a completely fruitless activity. The associate who helped me was probably my build, but about 5 feet tall, and she looked super cute with her jeggings. She also had a nice pair of boots and a layered ensemble on the top, thus covering most of the jeans. I became overwhelmed thinking all of the clothes I would need to accessorize a pair of jeggings then decided it wasn't worth the money. Note to self: you don't look that great in skinny jeans or jeggings anyway, and that is ok. Maybe when I take my winter clothes out of storage, I will be reminded of all of the cute sweaters and pants I have from last year. Doubt it.

When I say, "tan" I mean only the parts of me that were sticking out of a one-piece swim suit. Actually, multiple swim suits and jog tops which has created a series of interesting tan lines, especially on my posterior. As long as I am doing triathlons, you will also never see me wearing strapless. Oh and those cute summer freckles that started on my nose started forming on my cheeks and forehead a few years ago? These are not freckles - they are melasma. Those of you who are mothers may be noticed this phenomenon, aka the "pregnancy mask". I have not been pregnant, but it's the same thing. I thought I could prevent it with SPF 50, and it does no good. Until Retin-A becomes legal in the US or I have enough money for monthly chemical peels, I'm stuck with a spotty face. That might be worthless as well. As the woman at the fancy makeup counter says, "It's not the sun, or what is going on outside, it's what's going on inside." Yay for hormones. Ugh.

My hair has been growing out since May, and it's getting nowhere. My hairstyle is between a bowl cut and a mullet. I call it "The Bowllet." That might be funny, but it's not cute. Not at all. I'm giving it until Halloween, and if it doesn't look good I'm going pixie again.

I had pretty, manicured nails a year ago, and that lasted about 6 months. I can justify not getting bi-weekly mani/pedis, but I can't justify the biting. I'm going to try chewing gum in the car, which is where I usually have a hard time. I need something to do while I'm in stop and go traffic for 45 minutes. My recent commute bumper sticker game is not helping either. Having to apply pressure to the breaks behind a large SUV with a  Romney sticker makes me nervous.

On top of it all, I'm tired physically. I ran 8 miles super slow and in the Native-American-post-summer-temperature-increase on Tuesday, and reconsidered my running career. I'm sure it was just a bad day, but I haven't run since. The San Jose Rock and Roll half marathon is this weekend, which will be a fun time. But, shit. I'm worn out. Last night, I went home, listened to music, and painted. (I know you are now imagining me with a beret over my Bowllet.) I've resolved to take a week off of running specifically and do some other things - maybe get back in the pool, and take some yoga and do some light TRXing.

Skinny jeans are for skinny people

Skinny jeans on skinny person.

Skinny jeans on normal person.