On plotting and planning and being flexible

So I've been training for the Honolulu Marathon since May. Long runs started in earnest in mid-August, and a few of them were pretty awful.

I get bored sometimes on long run, but this wasn't that. This was knee pain. Weird, painful inflammation that made it impossible for me to bend my right knee beyond 45 degrees. Which made even just getting into the car after a long run kinda hard.

That pain, coupled with the really odd burning sensation that creeps into the toes of my right foot around mile four or five, really made me worry about those long runs. But still, I kept at it. I ran through the burning, used KT tape and a knee brace with the precision heretofore accomplished only by MacGyver, and I ran on. I had some good, nearly great, long runs as fall progressed. In the crisp air I was able to get 17 miles in and actually finish smiling.

The look on my face is exactly how I felt.

Then, in early November, I found myself running a 10K in Florida. By process of elimination, I think
the heat has more to do with knee pain than I had previously considered, because the first few miles went by without a hitch, but by mile four, I could barely run.

I would rather run my 17 miler back home in the cold than run another six miles in Florida. Which scares the crap out of me, because Hawaii is warm. Still, I figured I would press on, because there is no time limit in Honolulu and I am not a quitter.

Then, as if by divine intervention, I learned the Honolulu races allow runners to change their registration. I could downgrade from the marathon to the 10K. (They actually mentioned that runners could change from the Merrie Mile, a one-mile race, to the marathon. Who are they talking to with the whack suggestion?)

I thought about it. I considered how hard I've been working, how much time I've put in. Training. Preparing. But none of that is truly lost by deciding to run a shorter distance. I thought about the friends who were coming along for this crazy marathon journey - two of the best friends a girl could ask for, my sister Jenn and my friend Linda. Would I be letting them down? Would they be disappointed? But I know my tribe. They don't judge. They want what's best for me, and they want me to decide what that is.

I took a little over a week, mulling over my options in some sort of emotional yoga, and deciding how I really felt about it. And then I changed my registration.

I will be running 6.2 instead of 26.2, and I'm fine with it.

From the time I started my fitness journey, some of the best advice I've (repeatedly) received is "listen to your body." My body doesn't want to run a marathon in three weeks. I'm not saying never, but I am saying that unless and until I figure out what is causing the inflammation, I'm fine not running long. Not everyone is cut out to be an endurance runner. Hell, lots of people - most people - never run a race of any length. And that's okay, too.

I don't know what the future holds after this 10K on December 8. But here's what I know for sure:

• I am grateful to have the opportunity to run a shorter race than the marathon. This is almost unheard of in any other race I've done. Thank you, Hawaii, for letting me earn a shirt and a medal!
• I'm proud that I did the training, even though I won't be running the full distance.
• I won't quit running.
• I won't quit cycling.
• I won't quit swimming.
• I won't quit trying new things where health and fitness is concerned.

The view from the top of Diamond Head. Worth the long flight.

Truth be told, I would want to go to Hawaii whether there were a race or not. It is my favorite place on the planet. It is lovely and warm and special, and I would want to go there to spectate, to run, or just for a maitai. (But that would be a very expensive and time-consuming maitai.)

Hawaii holds part of my heart. It is a place I've shared with Dad, and it will tug at my memories of him, for sure. But this trip will be special in its own ways. This time, I'll get to see my bestie run 26.2 miles. I'll get to show my favorite place to her. I'll get to laugh with Jenn as we remember past trips, and together we'll cry and eat hula pie and poke and spam and macadamia-encrusted fish and drink really good coffee and frozen blue drinks ... and it will all feel wonderful. So the trip is different than what it was when we started planning two years ago. It is different than what I registered for. But it is exactly what it's supposed to be. 

And now it's October

Well, a few things haven't gone perfectly for my 100 days.

I haven't journaled every day. (Or hardly at all.)

I haven't worked out every day.

But here's what I did do: In that first month (September - also known as Birthday Month) I completed a two-week nutritional detox.

This was not my first time through the detox protocol, but it feels different this time. Yes, there were some physical adjustments, but the mental changes? This time, it's next-level stuff.

For two weeks, I drank a ton of water. (My weight, divided in half, in ounces of water each day. So more than 100 ounces. Yipes!) I drank a detox shake every morning for breakfast (and in the last four days I also had one for dinner or evening snack.) And I eliminated (with rare exception): dairy, corn, eggs, soy, peanuts, sugar, caffeine and alcohol. There was a night at the theater and I enjoyed some red wine. There was a get-together luncheon with old friends and I had 1/4 of a panini. So sue me.) That elimination isn't meant to be permanent, but instead it's designed to help you zero in on any foods that cause discomfort or inflammation. What it did for me is allow me to understand what it feels like to take in dense nutrients minus the junk, to get rid of sugar long enough to stave off the cravings, and to realize that I don't need nearly as much food as I ate prior to the detox.

I know I should do my best to keep up this style of eating, in moderation. And in the last two weeks, my idea of what "moderation" is has also changed. A cookie is moderation. Four is a dish to pass. If I can eat one, I can have one. If I can't, well ... the only answer is zero.

Full disclosure: the first thing I added back was coffee. And lo, it was good. I've used a little dairy (great quality plain yogurt in a curry dish) and I made some homemade treats for days when I need a little somethin'. I continue to feel great ... and the scale is responding.

Since starting the detox, I'm down 7.2 pounds. There's more work to be done, but this is a great start. Meanwhile, I am cooking more (see above re: curry) and loving it.

Bottom line: life is as short as it is precious, and we only have this one body to live it in. I want to feel good in mine, so I intend to stay the course. There will be celebrations, there will be vacations, there will be reasons to indulge - and that's okay. As long as I always return to this place where I enjoy delicious food that fuels me for living well for a long, long time.

100 Days: the reboot

Once upon a time, a girl embarked on a hundred days journey.

And then, all hell broke loose. 

Which, to be honest, is the start of a really great story.

At the time, it felt like the end. It felt like that was the way the story - my story - would conclude. Every sadness the world could offer was served up, buffet-style, on a plate heaped with grief and loss. Self-awareness allowed me to acknowledge the depression I was in, but I didn't always have the tools to work through it. I tried, but I needed time.

Apparently the amount of time would be measured in years. To be honest, I'm not sure I'll ever be done working through it. For my sisters and I, between losing our father, having to place our brother in a group home, and having his care be something less than we'd hoped for during those first few months ... well, it's a miracle we're all still standing.

And then, almost two years after Dad died, I lost my job. I cycle through moments when everything sucks and everything is awesome, usually dancing in the gooey in-between stages.

So here we are. It's been years since I wrote on these pages, but I'm not done telling stories and working on being the best version of myself. Today, 100 Days begins anew.

Not coincidentally, this new journey starts exactly 100 days before the Honolulu Marathon.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen ... I'm running a marathon. (Although I'm using the term "running" very loosely here.)

I'll be taking a bit of time every day to log my workouts, weigh in, and reflect on progress. Getting to race day with confidence is the goal, and everything that goes in to the next 100 days will be focused on that.

Is it scary? Um, yeah. Does it feel a little bit crazy and stupid to be planning a trip to Hawaii while I don't have a job? Undeniably. But the tickets were booked back when I was working full-time, and with the good fortune of a great freelance project, I think I can make it work, financially speaking. If not, I'll be in debt for awhile, and that's okay, too. Because life is short and I refuse to punish myself just because my current situation is less than ideal.

So here we go. Another hundred days begins ... now.