Savannah Scrapbooking

Here we go...

Well, here I am.  It's pre~race time for this Saturday's  Critz Tybee half marathon.

I wasn't sure, until today, as to what I was going to do this weekend.  I'd registered back in November, ponied up the $50 and dedicated myself to training for this sucker.  However, thanks to my crap-assed calf injury, I've been a tad bit skeptical about actually starting this race, let alone finishing it.

But after a beautiful six miles this morning with only minimal pain, and a super positive visit with my physical therapist, I've made a decision about Saturday...

That's right... I'm goin' for the half mary.  Come hell or high water, tendonitis, gimpy soleus, you name it... I'll be at the starting line at 8:30am. 

We got our race packets today, along with some other support items...

Isn't the shirt SOOO cute??? I'm totally diggin' the Chief Brody (from Jaws) reference, "We're gonna need a bigger race."  Cute!

I love that my bib number is 949... they call the crazy people in jail 49'ers, and seein' as how I'm thinkin' that I'm a tad bit on the crazy side for trying to tackle this 13.1 miler, I couldn't ask for a better number. 

Hopefully this will help me...

A compression sleeve for my rebel calf.  Oh so sexy.

And these are a must for a long run (or hobble)...

Yummmm... GU.  Okay, I haven't had the best experiences with GU, but I'm pretty stoked about the peanut butter, chocolate and vanilla flavors.  Maybe I won't want to barf it back up when I suck it down at miles 4, 8 and 12.  We'll see.   I'm pretty sure I'm going to need all the help I can get.  Eeek!

And one of my most important (and favorite) pre~race rituals is complete...

The nails will be blue for this one.  I love channeling my inner FloJo. Hahaha!

Here's hoping my inner FloJo will keep me well ahead of the meatwagon on Saturday. 

It's supposed to be a beautiful day, and I can NOT wait!!! 

Here we go! 

:)

Rainbow Bright and Her Magnificent Locker Room Adventure...

Yay me!!  I put on my brave girl panties (which happen to be invisible) and walked into the swim shop at the aquatic center this morning after our swim.  The saleslady team specialist gave Sid and me a concise lesson on swimsuits and goggles and left me to pick from a couple dozen shapes, sizes and colors.

I settled on a handful of suits and ventured into the women's locker room with Sid in tow.  (Thank God.)  After navigating through a gaggle of half dressed ladies, I managed to tuck myself into a potty stall to try on the suits.  Unfortunately, this left Sid to fend for herself in the land of nudeness.  (Giggle.)

After mashing my boobs into a couple of suits, I moved up a size and fell in love with this colorful little beauty...

Yes, my quest for a cute one piece is complete.  It's perfect!  And I grabbed a pair of goggles while I was being brave, what the heck...

Sure, I probably look like a three year old in her matchy matchy gear heading for her first swimming lessons, but dammit... that's how I roll.  I mean really, if I was a true three year old, I'd probably tell you about the locker room lady who banged a colossal beanie in the stall next door when Sid was in midsentence.... I'd tell you how I couldn't look Sid in the eyes without laughing my head off, so I quickly turned toward the wall and bit my tongue to regain control while the volcanic sounds errupted from the stall.  But no, I'm not a three year old, so I would NEVER do that.

Locker rooms are scary.

My new suit rocks.

The end.

Trash to Treasure... well, something like that.

Well, they say that some of the best ideas are born out of necessity right?  So last night when I was scrounging around the kitchen for a cute bowl for the chicken dip I was taking to my friends' house, I pulled this little sumthin' sumthin' out of my ass.

First, I grabbed an old Country Crock container out of my box o' randomness in my kitchen cabinet...

I don't know about you, but I just can't make myself throw these little guys away.  You never know when you're gonna need something to clean paintbrushes in, or a water bowl for a new kitty, or something to pop holes in and use as a critter cage.  Needless to say, I have a stack of these.

Sure it's perfect to take a dip to a party in because I'm not attached to it and if I leave it there in a fit of wine induced amnesia, then so be it.  But it's so tacky right?  So I dug through Miss Priss' sock drawer for a stray, and voila...

...grabbed my trusty fabric scissors...

... and came up with a cute little cozy...

Awwwww... isn't he sweet? 

This is what he looks like with his lid on...

I think if I'd had more time I may have pulled out my Coluzzle and cut a cover for the lid.  In fact, I may go ahead and cut a few in preparation for the next time. 

And there ya go... my trash to treasure.  Or at least almost trash to almost treasure.  ;)

Redneck for a Day...

Well, at least that's what Big Dave said I should call this post.  And seein' as how this day was all about hangin' with my favorite boy and doin' what he loves (sorta) I figured I would take him up on his suggestion.

After I got Miss Priss off to her weekend retreat with her church youth group this morning, I came home and went back to to bed.  It was glorious.  Then, when I woke up Big Dave said, "Get dressed Boonkie, we're goin' to the huntin' club!"  Okay... in twenty one years of our relationship I have done a lot of things, but somehow or another I've managed to NEVER go to the hunting club with him. 

But today was the day.  No kid to pick up from school, no job to report to, and beautiful blue skies... how could I say no? 

So we loaded up and headed an hour west of Dhuland to booming metropolis of Brooklet... home of Big Dave's hunting club. 

We had a handful of very specific goals to attend to today.  Since deer season is over, there was no hunting (or I wouldn't have gone... I'll eat Bambi, but I don't want to be around when he bites the dust.) 

First, we had to pick up this lovely new bit of decor...

Oh yeah, you KNOW you're jealous and wish that you too could have a European skull mount (with cypress stump) sitting next to your bed.  Uh huh. You heard it.  Big Dave has given his latest trophy a place of honor right next to his side of the bed.  I'm a lucky girl.

Then we snaked our way through miles (seriously miles) of dirt roads and farmland (I've never known real live dirt roads to be this long... they even had stop signs)...

... until we finally got to the hunting land where we went from regular ol' dirt roads to like, I don't know... bushy dirt roads...

 It was weird.  And kind of scrary.  A little.  I mean this is the kind of place where Jason from Camp Crystal Lake hangs out if you ask me.  But Big Dave is brave, and strong, and pees in the woods...

Then we tromped through the woods to take care of our second task...

...putting out corn for the turkeys.  Big Dave wants to attract lots turkeys to the hunting land.   I tried a turkey song to see if I could call them, but they didn't come. 

Then we loaded back up and wound our way through the forest roads, food plots, and farmland...

...past tree stands...

...and then trekked into a forest so quiet and thick that it was like walking through Narnia...

... until we found the perfect clearing for another smattering of turkey corn, and Big Dave mounted his game camera in the right spot so he can be a proper paparazzi to the flock of turkeys he's expecting to dine at his homemade buffet. 

While waiting for him, I found this great big tree that had been ripped out of the ground by a tornado, roots and all...

I've got pretty big roots too. I feel a kinship with this tree. 

Yep, I found out that there are plenty of fun things to do at the hunting club.  I discovered a cool dead pine tree with etchings on it...

Big Dave says that pine beetles did this. Neato huh?

And I also had time to do some interpretive shadow poses...

I call this, 'Walk like a one armed Egyption'.

And this one, 'Dancing queen'...

And 'Peace'...

Lots of husband-wife bonding.  Lots of outdoors-time.  And no ticks. 

Perfect.

;)

 

 

A New Love, and the Hunt for a Decent One Piece...

Here we are, on what is usually a Thirsty Thursday in the DHU, but my partner in crime had familial obligations so I'm on my own.  Okay, sure I've got a puss by my side and a couple of pups by my feet, but other than that, it's just me and the pc.

Since Grey's Anatomy is a rerun (WHY???) I figured I'd take the time to tell you about how much fun I've had this week with a new adventure. 

After a conversation that more than likely originated over too much wine in the Penthouse,  Sid and I decided to quit bein' big ol' chickens and get our asses in the pool at the Chatham County Aquatic Center.  Honest to God, when I first mentioned that I'd been thinking about swimming for fitness, I never thought anybody'd actually take me up on it.  But boy was I wrong.  Sid gave me just enough time to forget all about the conversation, and then she hit me with it again.  Damn.  I friggin' hate love accountability.  So, I said yes, let's do it... although I absolutely despise new things, and the thought of unwrapping my pale, flabby flesh in the middle of January and plunging it into sub 80 degree water freaks the hell out of me. 

But thanks to my brave friend, I did it. 

There's a 50 meter lap pool that is just absolute perfection for a total body workout.  We've gone twice this week, and I can't wait to hit it again next week.   I've always loved to swim (I even scored a swimming trophy at Armstrong Sports Camp when I was twelve, haha) and I have plenty of room to improve, so it's kind of a fun, new challenge.

Of course, as a consummate bikini woman (fat roll and all), I have had a bit of a transition to the actual 'swimming' suit thing.  I found an old tankini in my dresser drawer, and although I'm pretty sure it's totally dry rotted and may fall apart at any minute, I pulled it on, and it's doing it's job.  However, fearing it's impending demise, I headed over to Sears to check out the Land's End one piecers on the advice of a friend, but my golly goodness those suckers cost $110.  Um, "No."

So I cruised over to Target and, while doing my best to ignore the way cute as heck bikinis,  found a totally unflattering one piece, that I'm pretty sure came straight from the Grandma Moses catalog.  I bought it, but haven't torn the tags off yet.  I'm thinkin' that sucker's goin' back.  Seriously, can a woman not find a decent one piece swimsuit that doesn't make her look like a nun?  I'm going to hit the swim shop at the aquatic center soon, maybe they'll have something sporty and cute... with a built in boulder holder. 

I'm sure there will be a photo opportunity lurking if I find one, goggles, swim cap and all. 

Stay tuned...

;)

 

Joy in the Moment...

Today's physical therapy appointed proved to be just what I was hoping for.  After putting me on the treadmill and analyzing my running, Sean gave me the go ahead to lace up my new sneaks and head out on the open road. 

These puppies cradle my feet like baby Moses in the Nile, I tell you.  I was swaddled in complete safety and comfort. 

And now, I will step upon my soapbox for a few words about HOW FRICKIN' AWESOME IT FELT TO RUN RUN RUN! 

I'm not kidding.  I've been a little blue the last couple of weeks, since I've been hurting and unsure whether I'd really screwed up my leg.  It's weird when you've never really been injured to all of a sudden find yourself hampered by something out of your control.  I don't like it. Nope, not one bit.

I'd planned to try to do four miles when I trotted out of my driveway, but as the kinks worked out of my legs, and my head cleared, I felt good.  Like race pace good.  (Which of course is only a 12 minute mile pace, but still better than the 16 minute miles I was hobbling through last week.)  Before I knew it, I found myself all the way on the other side of the neighborhood where I like to run, and four miles was gone. 

I was heading back to the Dhu, somewhere deep inside mile six when "Praise You in the Storm" by Casting Crowns hit my earbuds, and this feeling of overwhelming gratitude came over me.  Tears sprang into my eyes (or maybe it was sweat) and these thoughts ran through my head.  I wanted to write them down before I forget them. 

I am so thankful to be able to move my body, to feel my own power as my arms pump and my feet hit the pavement.  Oh man.  This song, if you haven't heard it by now, encourages us to praise God in the storms of life, and ain't it the truth.  In this case, my leg injury has been a grumbly grey cumulonimbus...

Sure, I know in the grand scheme of things, a pulled calf muscle is nothing compared to people who have sick loved ones, or are facing foreclosure on their homes or the like.  I get it.

But for whiney ol' me, this leg has been a low pressure system, churning in my brain.  Through this upheaval however, I've realized how much I totally dig running.  Who knew?  I mean for real.  It sucked so horribly at first, and it still sucks so bad when I'm overheated and dehydrated and blistered, but now I realize, thanks to my little storm, that it sucks SO much more to NOT do it.   My injury has been a beautiful blessing in disguise... amazing how that works isn't it?

And now before I am accused of proselytizing, I will gingerly step down from my soapbox, and call it a day.  I don't mean to say that running and walking is for everyone, but man, I'm tellin' ya...  If I could bottle the feeling that I get after a good run, I think I could live forever. 

 

 

Craving color...

This is the time of year when I walk around the Dhuland yard and garden and get a little sad.

The grass is brown, the plum trees are naked, and the garden looks like a third world country...

Blech.

I see this stuff and start getting kind of itchy for Spring when I can crank up the tiller, amend some soil and sink some plants.  Oooohh... I can't wait!

Let's dream together, shall we?

I want this...

and this...

Oh and this inspires me...

Sigh... come on Spring!

 

 

Okay, so I tend to over pronate...

I'm home from my visit to the (kinda oh so cute) physical therapist, Sean Proctor at Georgia Foot and Ankle, and my brain is full of information about my poor wittle weg.

First things first though, I must address the fact that I could never... NEVER... never... be a physical therapist for feet and legs.  I'm not kidding, I went in there and he said, "Go ahead and take off your shoe and sock and prop your foot up here."  So I did.  And even though I'd changed into clean socks, I'd just finished a 3 miler with Trish an hour before that, so my foot was still all shiny and pink and sticky with bits of sock lint sticking to it.  But did that bother our fearless PT?  Heck no.  He grabbed my nasty little foot and started twisting and bending and asking all kinds of questions like it was nothing.  I would have gagged at least twice if that foot was in my hand.  Just sayin'.  I guess he's a better man than I.  (Well duh.)

Anyway, enough about my squeamishness, let's talk about this calf of mine...

It looks like I've got a tendency to over pronate when I run, which he could tell by the way I stand (while in my natural stance my feet kind of lean inward...who knew?)  So that is something we're going to address with some new support insoles in my kicks. 

The injury itself is to my soleus muscle...

And there's also some injury to some other muscle in there too, but we all know it's a miracle if I can remember one thing, let alone two. 

Sean's best guess after listening to all the facts (and as soon as he said it, I completely agree) is that when I started back running after letting my tattoo heal for two weeks, I wasn't quite comfortable with how the tattoo was feeling rubbing against the side of my shoe so I adjusted the way I was running to compensate for it.  In doing so I caused trauma to my muscle, which was probably already unhappy because I've been abusing it with my over pronation. 

OOOoooooOOOoooooh~~~  I totally get it.  Talk about your lightbulb moment!

So Sean hooked me up to some electrodes and wrapped my wittle weg in a heating pad...

Then he ultrasounded the area and we did some non-weight bearing stretches.  It was fabulous.  I would like to stay there.  Forever.

He gave me strict instructions to not go archless, apply plenty of heat heat heat... absolutely NO ice (which is opposite of what I've been doing... oops) and continue to stretch until I go back on Monday,  at which point I should be feeling "so good" he wants to put me on the treadmill and do some further analysis of my running style.

Wheeeeeee~~

This is fun!

He's pretty sure I'll be back up and running by the end of next week.  (Of course I've kind of been doing it anyway, but I'm gonna be a good girl and only walk until Monday.) 

Now, off to Walmart to buy a heating pad, and then to Lady Foot Locker to buy the Spenco insoles... and I'm pretty sure a new pair of Asics may accidentally slip into my shopping bag.  Mwahahahahaaaaa~~

 

Say a prayer that my PT will make me ALL better!!!

Well now why wouldn't I wanna run when this is my view...

Hopefully tomorrow (Wednesday) the physical therapist will tell me that my busted up calf is just a figment of my imagination.

He'll walk in, take one look at me, and say, "Oh you're FINE... quit yer bitchin."  And I'll walk out of there like NOTHING happened. 

I guess we'll see.

{I'm a little worried.}

eeeek!

;)

A Mile in My Shoes...

QUICK!!

Run to your bedroom and snap a photo of the pile of shoes you use most.  Oh, come on... you know you've got that little cluster of shoes that you use most somewhere in your house.  What?  You actually put your kicks in their proper places?  NooOOOOOo! 

Well, I don't. Nope.  The fact of the matter is that I have a microscopic closet. Really.  Think postage stamp. I've got an over the door shoe organizer but it only holds my dress shoes. The rest of my kicks end up in a jumbled mess on the floor of my closet.  Sigh. It kinda sucks.

But there's a handful of shoes that I wear more than any other, and that chosen few hold council on the hearth of the fireplace in my bedroom.

And this council of kickers speaks volumes about its owner.

From left to right:

Polka dot rain boots... I don't wear them a whole lot, but they're entirely too big to fit in my closet among the hordes of other less worns.

New Balance, hot pink and silver running shoes... ~Sigh~  I adore them.  However, since last Saturday's 12 mile run, I've been sidelined with a disastrous muscle pull.  I went to the doctor today and have been referred to a physical therapist specializing in runnng injuries.  We'll see if I make the Tybee Half Marathon in three weeks... I'm nervous~

 Fossil clogs... These are my tried and true throw on and go friends.  They can be seen by the firepit or wandering around my weedy overgrown garden.  A winter must.

Reef flipper floppers... My trusty companions for 8 years. They've been to Vegas, Chicago, Atlanta and walked me down the aisle in Kristine and Teddy's wedding.  I can't believe they've lasted this long, but they're my absolute favorites.  They've logged plenty of time at the firepit, in the garden, and on the beach for sure.  Luckily, with our mild Savannah winter, I've been able to wear them quite often lately.

Fuzzy wuzzy oh so comfy slippers... Quite honestly, these are the shoes I wear most these days.  I've even accidently worn them in the car this past week while taking Miss Priss to school... oops!  After many years of being a slipper connoisseur, I'm pretty specific in my taste. They MUST have a dark inside (to hide grungy foot marks), they MUST be warm and fuzzy (to keep to tooters warm in my drafty old house), and they MUST have hard bottoms (because I wear them EVERYWHERE... well, with the exception of Walmart.)  They make trips to the compost pile, over to Mom's house and of course they are my shoe of choice for ALL wintertime Thirsty Thursdays.

And there you have it.  My autobiography... in shoes.  Hee hee.

I'm an unorganized, fitness-minded, summer loving, comfort minded, relaxed personality.

What do your frequently used shoes say about you?

;)