Pure Adrenaline

We don't have many rainy days in Southern California so when we get one, I think it can be tough on my psyche.  I can't argue against the value of rain or our region's desperation for it, but I can't help but feel a bit blue when it comes.  But blue is good because it leads to deeper thinking and contemplating.  On our past rainy Sunday I contemplated the importance of running buddies and social running, and how injury can disrupt and sever this benefit.

Since being in Santa Barbara, I'd say I've only had a few months of truly healthy running.  There is an abundant and welcoming running community here, many of whom I've met, but I have yet to integrate myself into it.  I've been waiting for the opportunity to begin joining some of the workouts, but this is where injury has been most disruptive.  I can find ways to cross-train, but I can't find ways to cross-socialize when I'm stuck on an elliptical.  When I get the full green light to run again, I am going to take full advantage of as many wonderful opportunities to run with others as I can.  I simply miss that so very much.

When I make my way down south to the San Diego area, I usually am able to meet up with my running buddies and partners there, but when the Doc says "no running," I have not even been able to do that lately.  San Elijo group, the next time I'm down there, I'm running with you. Boo hoo hoo.  Lament.  Lament.  Lament.  See what rain does?  But there's a beautiful rainbow to everything that rain brings.

As for my rehabilitation, things are getting exciting.  Doc had given me the OK to begin adding back two days of running into my training schedule.  There were strict instructions but along with it he noted that my progress and healing have been very fast, without set-back, and even as I've integrated my runs, everything has remained solidly in forward motion.  This makes me happy and gives me just a bit of confidence to push it (within healthy limits of course).

My runs have been and are to continue to be on the track.  This is the best surface on which to run during rehabilitation.  My first few runs were amazingly pain free, though they were purposefully slow and very much in control.  I figured, therefore, I would let go a bit and run harder on the next outing.  Of course I would do the hard run first and then ask Doc later if that was a good idea or not.  Hee hee, hoo hoo.

So, along with my one faithful and fully competent running partner and husband John, it was onto the track for a tempo run.  Ahhhhhh.  A tempo pace draws on the cardiovascular system, allows the legs to stretch and stride, gives full heed to arm swing.  Oxygen is in high demand, and yes, there is the dreaded stress added to the calves and Achilles tendons.  Keeping within the number of miles Doc allotted me, I did my slow warm up, then long stretch.  My tempo miles would only be three, but in my mind it would be the quality that mattered today.  Nicely I began and got into a comfortable stride right away.  I really had no idea what pace I could do since it had been a while and I have had no clear marker of my current fitness, so I went mostly by feel.  My plan was to descend each mile so that my pace steadily grew more rapid throughout.  I'm sure Doc will think this is a great idea.

My first mile was completed in 6:30 and felt steady, relaxed and seemed to put little stress on my body or system, so I wasn't intimidated to pick it up a bit.  Oh ... the dilemma of how to describe how wonderful this run felt.  I was enjoying it as much as I've enjoyed any run in my life.  The second mile came through in a happy 6:14 and onward I loped.  Holy cowhide Batman, no pain at all, only yippy skippy, sunny, funny running.  Well with only one mile to go, I was yet again not intimidated by the pace and picked it up one more notch, wondering if I would crack, but thinking probably not.  The final tempo mile finished in 6:04.  You know what?  Yah it was only 3 miles but from my stance my body did what I asked of it, remained fully healthy and strong throughout, and hay, it's a step forward in the rehabilitation of a year long injury and I was ... happy with that 6:16 paced tempo run.  I bounded around for my mile warm down and felt like I actually finally went for a run.

Now to tell Doc.  I was able to bring to the table the fact that I had no problem what so ever, you know, with which to sort of make my case.  I entered my notes into my training journal, every detail, every mile time, and punctuated it with, "Ummm, was this okay to do?"  Then I sent it off in an email.  I would have to wait until Monday to get his reaction.

On Monday Doc told me ... Yep, not a problem to test your body while rehab'ing. 
"So can I test it every time I run?"
"As long as you're letting your body fully recover in between the hard runs and as long as there are no set backs, you can push it."  At least I think that's what he said.  That's what I heard anyway.  He explained the long-term goal of getting back as soon as possible into a smart but challenging training regimen and this was a great step.
You know that new Geico commercial where the wee wee wee piggy Maxwell is zip lining and pulls up to and even with the guy in front of him and says, "Pure adrenaline, snort, hee hee."

Well that's sort of how I felt.

So today on the track, I decided to add another mile to my tempo run, making it a 4 miler.  I'll do the extra mile first and will ask Doc about it later.  That seems to work well.  It was, how shall I put this ... another unbelievable run. 

"To feel all of the pressures of a hard pace, face it squarely, dare it to drop you, conquer it and walk away unscathed is a thing of beauty." (Cindy Abrami)  Pure adrenaline.

So ... How'd it Go?

This morning Mo Mo, the community cat, meowed below the staircase, waiting to scurry into whichever office door opened first.  Mo Mo's my bud, so I called the fat, animated rainbow colored tabby to come up with me to Doc's office.  When Mo Mo settles into the waiting room chairs he is clearly in his intended environment because he blends perfectly into the fabric.  Swiftly to sleep he falls and I am summoned to room #1.

Says Doc, "So ... how was the jog?"
I hate that word "jog" profusely.  It should be stricken from the English language.
I walk smoothly and steadily to the Chiropractic face slit bench thingy, being careful not to lend a hint of any type of limp.  I have no limp, but I don't want to accidentally limp and have my "jogging" ripped again from my fragile grip.  Ugh!!  Such drama.  Healthy smile on my face and spark in my eye.
"It was fffffffabulous."
A doubter's stare stabbed at me.  "Mmmmhmmmm.  No problems?"
Well that's not a fair question and requires some interpretation.
"No."

Wednesday was a much anticipated day for me.  The last command barked to me as I exited Doc's office on Monday was, "You get one slow run on Wednesday.  That means not today and not on Tuesday.  Only Wednesday."  Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday.  Hurry up already.  I felt like an adolescent girl waiting to develop.  Where are you guys already??!!

On Wednesday I carefully packed my backpack with all of my running essentials: shoes, socks, watch, sunglasses.  Running is so simple isn't it. 

When I pack for swimming I have goggles, cap, paddles, pull buoy, suit, parka, towel, shampoo, conditioner, hair dryer.  It's like packing for an overnight trip. 

But not so for the track.  Shoes, socks, watch and glasses ... boom (oh, oops. Little iPod Shuffle too)!!  Happy, happy, happy.  I love you puke purple Nike Free's.  Let's go do this.

Doc was real clear about running surface.  "Run on the city college track."  Like a little angel conscience person, he sat on my shoulder when I arrived on my bike to the city college track.  Hmmm 2:40 pm.  City college track practice.  Track closed to lowly non-team members.  I dismounted and studied all posted signs.  The little beasts were blocking all the lanes.  Hurdles everywhere.  Do they really need all 9 lanes?  This is my track today.  This is my Wednesday.  My run day.  Options?  Options?  Did Doc really say my only option was the track?  I flicked the little angel conscience guy off my shoulder, got on my bike and headed over to the harbor.  Surely the beachway concrete path was a reasonable substitute.  "Do NOT do an out-and-back run."  I flicked him off my shoulder again.  Annoying.

Alright, so I'm not going to run on the track but I am going to run.  Shoot, and it's going to have to be out-and-back.  But I'll be careful to do everything else in full compliance.

The prescription:  One mile extremely, horribly slow to warm up.  STRETCH for a long time.  Three not quite as horribly slow, but still nauseatingly slow miles.  One hidiously, painstakingly slow mile to warm down.  STRETCH again for a long time.

My greatest tool, besides my puke purple Nikes, was my Garmin which would be my monitor.  On asphalt, I began a slow gait to warm up.  With a continual body checking going on, I noted that my system was shocked.  What!!  We're running?  How do you do that again?  It was tediously slow on purpose and I was so very, very careful and smooth.  As I warmed a bit, I began to feel that old familiar bounce in my step.  My right side had been bounceless for over a year.  Today I was bouncing off my toes ... and smiling at passers by.  Please don't let there be Achilles pain.  That was my mantra.

The warm up mile finished in a satisfactory 8:40, and I settled into my long stretch.  An inspirational play list can work against a person in such a situation.  I was filled with "Rocky-like" energy as I stretched.  I envisioned running down the path with a crowd of people latching on to my slip stream, moving ever closer to those Philadelphia stairs.  Tame it baby.  Pull back the reigns.  A deep breath and then I was off on my 3 mile out-and-back.  My Garmin read 7:03 pace.  Bad Garmin.  You must be broken.  6:45 pace.  Seriously?  I put on the brakes.  There is no point in taking any risk.  I wanted to finish this thing pain free.  Out ... smile, smile, smile ... back ... elation.  You can do it.  No pain.  No pain.  No pain.  Sounding like Rocky again.  My bouncy gait came to rest at three miles on my patch of grass starting point/stretching area.  7:30 pace overall, but I spent nothing to do it.  Heck, that elliptical may not be half bad after all.  Slow mile warm down and another long stretch and the verdict:  no pain in the Achilles.  The right knee was grumpy and I'll have to tell Doc, but the Achilles which has been the real problem and real focus, was wonderful.

Back at the office, with Mo Mo my bud, I lay face down with electrical pulses surging through my hips and leg.  I told Doc that everything was great except my right knee.  That little statement earned me some punishment in the form of ART in the pertinent area.  OUCH. 
"Alright.  Great job.  Have a great weekend.  See you next week."
"Oh. Uh. Well can I run again?"  Come on Doc.  Give me my pill.  Does he NOT understand the addiction?
"You may run up to twice a week on the CITY COLLEGE track.  Make sure there's at least two days between runs.  Ice.  If there is ANY pain, stop.  Do all your other cross-training in between runs."

I love my doctor.  Corned beef anyone?

Doctor's Orders

It's cloudy and cold, not the kind of day that beckons you to come play, but for the runner who is trapped daily in a gym, it's as good a day as any.  I swing my leg over my bike for the four block trek to Doc.  It's been four weeks since I began seeing the doc.  I look forward to the bionic outcome, but for now I lament the need for treatment. 

When I came to see him I was deep into the healing process of a year-long injury and I thought all was progressing forward, though not fast enough.  He felt otherwise.  First order of business ... stop running. 
"What?  Like, stop running for a few weeks?"
"Well, we'll see how long.  I need to get you straightened out.  You're kind of a mess."
"Gosh ... I hadn't noticed Doc.  I thought that knee cap was supposed to be down over there, and that rib was supposed to be up over here."  I felt like Igor as I blinked disappointment at this "no running" announcement.  The open-ended status of "we'll see" had me quite nervous.

So I hunkered down for maybe a 3 week sabbatical but now three weeks has turned into four and I'm staring at week number five when I ride into the office for my first of two visits for the week.  He notices my bike needs several adjustments.  Among Doc's many talents is elite cycling coaching and bike fitting.  Apparently my bike, similar to my body, has things in the wrong location, at the wrong angle.  But that's another story all together.  Back to my ever extending running sabbatical.

"So Doc, what exactly are we waiting for before I can maybe try to run again?  Cuz I am about to lose it on the elliptical."  My eyes were wild and I felt a snarl appearing across the bridge of my nose.  Just keep it cool and be nice.  Smile ... sweet eye blink.
"Well, how is your Achilles feeling?"
Blink, blink, smile ... "It is absolutely wonderful.  When you were digging into this morning I hardly flinched."
"We can't take it too quickly or it will become irritated and slow progress.  I know how you runners are.  I give you a mile, you take ten."
Smile.  Sweet eye blink ... twice.  "Not me Doc.  I will do just what you ask.  If you give me a mile, I will take it."
"You do realize that if I give you a mile, that doesn't mean in the form of repeats.  You can't run your mile, rest, then repeat."
Irritated smile.  "Fine ... I'll take my single mile, just please give me just a smidgen of running."
"Ok.  This is what I'd like you to do.  Start out by going on a speed walk for an hour."
No more smile.  Tears begin to form.  Blink, blink the tears back.  SPEED WALK.
"No.  Listen Doc.  I have NO pain and I have to run.  You gotta give me something.  I walk all day long in my job.  I can take more.  How about stadium steps." (This is the give and take strategy.  He gives me speed walk, I give him stadium steps and we eventually meet somewhere in the middle).
"No.  No stadium steps.  That's the worst thing you can do.  Alright, let's have you try a short, easy run on the city college track.  I want you to warm up slowly, as in walk, and then stretch.  Then do an easy three miles.  Stop if there is any discomfort.  Then an easy warm down and final stretch.  Then go home and ice.  This is to be done on Wednesday so that we can see how it goes at your Thursday appointment."
Elated smile.  Sweet eye blink.  "Alright.  Thank you, thank you, thank you."

I trust this doc.  He knows what he's talking about and he cares.  So Wednesday I will be at the city college taking in these precious few miles with appreciation.  The miles will be followed by a tough master's swim workout and I predict that I will be happy.  Will I be tempted to run hard ... yes.  Tempted to detour up the stadium steps ... yes.  Tempted to run farther than prescribed ... yes.  But my desire to be healed is a greater desire than all these temptations.  Isn't that the best way to defeat temptation:  Be passionate about the greater goal.  Make IT a greater temptation.

I added a new song to my playlist this weekend.  Lyrics can be so appropriate.
Changes by Butterfly Boucher and David Bowie

First verse and chorus:
I still don't know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild
A million dead-end streets
Every time I thought I'd got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I've never caught a glimpse
Of how the others must see the faker
I'm much too fast to take that test

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Don't want to be a richer man
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Just gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I can't trace time

Getting It Done

Every breath felt like my deflated lungs collapsed and refused to take in air; the sweat poured to cool my body but it refused to be consoled; when do I get to stop, when do I get to rest?  With wide, desperate eyes I looked at the ticking seconds and imagined the final 100 meters stretched out in front of me.  I can hear nothing over the noise of my own breathing.  And finally it was over.  Finally the turn over slowed and my head lowered as I heaved inward to get oxygen.  The heart rate monitor read 170.  How many more can I ask my body to perform.  Twelve were on the schedule but each one was its own journey to hell.  Midway through each one I began to fight with my mind.  "I can't finish this one.  I'm going to slow down.  How many more do I have?  Ah, I want to cry."

And so it went this morning for the first portion of the workout.  The positive take away:  Intervals ... finally!!!  The negative take away:  they were performed on an elliptical machine in a gray, dingy, smelly gym.  Do they NOT believe in air?

After I finished with the elliptical, or as it were, after it finished with me, oh, and that little stretch of planks and crunches, I skipped along like a little girl in pigtails (only I had a ponytail) to my waiting bike.  Hopped on, clipped in and rolled along to the second portion of the day's workout.  Oh this is so fun, but my backpack weighs 50 pounds.  I'm a girl, I don't pack light.  What can I say.

After I slipped into my Dolfin Ugly suit (note that mine is not ugly, it is the most fabulous combination of blues and purples, kind of like a bruise), I walked the cold pool deck under thick marine layer.  Do I really need to warm up for 600 meters after what I just did?  Yes, apparently.  Oh, my arms were not happy.  They thought their work was done for the day, but you see they never listen.  They are always shocked when I hit the water and ask them to pull me forward.  They think their only job is to swing by my side.  It's an ongoing issue.  One day they'll figure it out.

So coach, really I have already done my workout today.  Maybe this can be sort of a nice slow pace, kind of like a long warm down.  Sometimes I think that coach has hidden little horns on his head and a red thin triangle tipped tail tucked away somewhere.  You would think that the fact that I'm his wife would have some pull, but it doesn't.  As my sorry arms dragged my body through the water at a pace I hoped NOT to have to do, I began listing things in my mind he would soon be deprived of. 

Our set was impossible ... literally.  How many 200's can I do at base minus 5 without substantial rest.  Need I remind him that I already worked out.  So here it is.  The main set:  a merciful 4 x 100 at base +10 followed immediately by 3 x 200 at base -5, a short rest (I emphasize short), then another 3 x 200 at base -5.  Then we got another merciful set of 4 x 100 at base +10, but that went directly into a final 400 all out.  Well let me just say that I was truly "all out" by then.  Then it was off to the deep end for vertical kicking.  I don't think I've ever heard so many F bombs dropped in such a short amount of time.  One of my lane buddies couldn't control his verbalization.  I almost drowned because it is impossible to laugh and keep your head above water at the same time while vertically kicking.

So came the end of my workout.  This is what I did to replace what would have been my magical long run but the doc says no running.  For two weeks now I have again laid off running because I am finally in the care of a great doctor who is fixing me.  With a left leg one inch shifted longer than the right leg, I have been grinding my Achilles tendon against the edge of the sheath through which it should go straight and smooth.  For a year I have dealt with an enflammed knee that has been at best questionable.  My hips have been torqued and running puts pressure on everything and the natural compensation that occurs has been injury inducing devastation.  Sooooo ... the doc said no more running until I get this straightened out.  The good news is that my knees are level now, my hips are tracking properly, my knee is significantly better, I have absolutely no more pain in my Achilles even when I squeeze it to death.  Doc says I have made rapid progress and I have responded well.  I have been running for at least two years, if not more, inefficiently because of these issues and I've fought through to the extent that I could, achieving PR's late in my running career, but the doc assures me that when I return to running, I will finally be running efficiently.  I anticipate feeling more freedom in my stride as if a wall has been removed, but we will see.  Maybe he'll let me go back to running next week.  Maybe not yet, but I will wait for his green light and then nothing's keeping me back after that!

The Mileage Club

For the past year I have been coaching PE at the elementary school level.  I get to work with Kindergarten through 6th grade, and attempt to remember the names of all 450 students I see each week.  Rarely a day goes by that I don't ask myself, "What was I thinking??!!"

The drive to be involved in Physical Education comes from my lifelong passion for athletics, my lifelong involvement with running, and my own observations of childhood obesity and childhood weight/diet related disease.  Some years back, when my sons were in elementary school, I worked in their classrooms and spent a lot of time hanging around their school.  I noticed way back then how many children seemed to be overweight, and it wasn't long before it came glaringly into the public eye.  Thankfully many schools have instituted a more structured PE program to help address the issue, as well as improved upon the types of food they serve during breakfast and lunch.

Priority one for my PE program is to get the kids moving around and to teach them skills that can keep them active all the time.  I want them to know and experience how many different activities they have available to them and for them to discover what amazing feats their bodies can accomplish. 

Let me just state at this point that getting kids moving and teaching them new skills is much easier said than done.  Of course there is always going to be that 15% who love to run, love PE, love to learn, love to try, love to give their all ... but the remaining 85% of elementary school students pose a huge challenge to me in one way or another.  Because they often don't take personal ownership of their own fitness and abilities, they decide to walk the lap instead of run, chat with a neighbor instead of focus, defeat themselves with crippling words like, "I can't," choose not to try, not to give their all, they complain incessantly and I am left scratching my head wondering how am I going to make PE matter to them. 

To make matters worse, at our school, sometimes my PE class has to compete with breakfast, and when students are given the choice, breakfast usually wins.  Because there is not time to fit PE into a school day, in some cases I conduct PE during recess time.  For whatever reason, the school offers a "second chance breakfast" during recess and it is available to any student and is free at our school.  Mind you, this is the second offering of breakfast for the day and comes only a short time before lunch.  Kids who had eaten during the first offering of breakfast (before school) or had eaten before school at home can simply eat again and if they are in my PE class they have to be permitted to leave so they can consume these additional Calories.  That means, not only are they not exercising, but they are in most cases eating when they don't need to be.

It is flawed and makes no sense from my perspective and after 6 frustrating months of less than productive recess PE, I made a change in my approach.  I started the Mileage Club.

The Mileage Club is basically what it sounds like.  It is an optional program, not required, whereby kids accumulate mileage in the form of walking or running laps during recess.  The program I use includes gentle incentives in the form of Toe Tokens (a little plastic foot shaped charm).  For every 5 miles accomplished, a student is awarded a chain necklace and their first token (they choose the color of their token).  Additional tokens are awarded for every 5 miles thereafter.  It's nothing fancy but those necklaces have proved to be highly coveted and intangibly valuable. 

I thought this club would perhaps help students to take some ownership of their fitness (that's why the fact that it's optional is important) and their recess time and give them a goal on which to focus that might take their mind off of second breakfast.  It seems I was right.  Our Mileage Club is hugely successful as dozens have already earned their necklace and first toe token, and did so within 2 weeks and a few have already earned their second toe token, and around 80% of the students who have the option to participate, have logged laps.

When a student reaches a 5 mile goal, they are awarded their toe token during their afternoon PE class so that their classmates can celebrate with them and be challenged and motivated to follow their example.

Since beginning the Mileage Club in January, the enthusiasm has continued to increase.  When the bell rings to signal recess, I smile when I see a herd of little feet running out to me.  Something about the idea that "they don't have to but can if they want to" has the PE haters out on the field doing laps on their own time, and those who won't try or put forth effort during our class are now smiling and asking me to hold their water bottle while they run.  Every time they come around for a lap, I punch their foot shaped card with a heart shaped hole puncher, remind them that they are making their heart stronger and that I am proud of them.  Thirty laps equal 5 miles and they are so focused on those heart holes, how many they have, how many they need, that they decide to do three more laps instead of heading in to the cafeteria.

And you would not believe how many students are going to participate in our track and field program this Spring.  It will be the first for our school and oh how it makes my heart swell when I hear the words, "Coach Cindy, can we run another lap?"  What they don't realize but I know is that running can change their life.

Blame it on the Boogie

Magical runs happen every so often.  They are the runs that make all the un-magical ones worth it.  Saturday brought in our first inclement weather of the year.  It almost even felt like winter, but may have been mistaken for a summer squall.  Never the less, the ground was dampened by the overnight, early morning rain, and the wind howled in swirling circles, blowing palm fronds and leaves into my path.  The air was still moist and had a bit of a bite, but the sun began to peak through as the cloud broke.  On the surface it didn't look like a day for a magical run, but one never knows how these things develop.

On Friday John and I woke up early, deathly early for me (5:00 am) so that we could attend the Strength for Running class.  I had no idea how much pain could be inflicted upon the body without the use of external weights.  All of our moves were done using body weight and gravity and by the end of the hour I thought I might have to crawl out because my gluts were left quivering on my pink mat.  It was awesome.  I have no doubt that my strength was built because by evening time I could pinpoint exactly which muscles were worked.  I decided, since I was half asleep from a lack of morning sleep, and sore in places I didn't know existed, to not go to the pool for my planned swim.  I slept instead.  I hoped my Saturday run would make up for the laziness.

So Saturday brought less than ideal weather, but lots of energy from a day of recovery.  Saturday also brought the birth of a new play list for my little iPod Shuffle.  For years, as in four years, I have had the same songs on my Shuffle.  They were great songs, but after hearing them two hundred and fifty times they had gotten a bit flat.  They became noise in my head that helped only to take my mind off the pain.  What they lacked was the ability to put a spring in my step and a jolt in my heart.  They were decaffeinated and lukewarm.  And lets face it, even at his best, Jack Johnson isn't exactly energizing.  So despite the technical difficulty of figuring out how to strip and reload my Shuffle, I spent an hour and a half doing just that.

I am a new Iphone user.  Traditionally very late with new technology, I recently bought a 3G Iphone (I'm always one model behind every one else) for one penny, and now have a smart phone that essentially makes life easier and more fun.  I began building a small play list of inspiring songs.  When I listen to the tunes I can't help but beat my foot to the rhythm and groove with the melody.  Granted I have only compiled about 13 songs but it is the beginning of hours of running music.

I loaded my thirteen songs, almost an hour's worth of music, onto my Shuffle.  Enough to get me through most of my 10 mile run.  I can say with conviction that although I went into my run rested and ready, it was the music that made the magic.  My first clue was in the first mile.  Whereas I typically take my time warming up with a 7:30 to 7:45 mile, my watch beeped out a 6:59 first mile.  Oops.  That wasn't a very disciplined warm up.  From there I headed straight into the wind for a two mile stretch, and although my face was flapping in contorted arrangements, like a high powered leaf blower was attacking me, I was rocking out and my magical run continued.

Onward went the run and the tunes, into the wind, with the wind, wind swirling all around me, pushing against me, pushing me forward, knocking me off my path, wet, slippery dirt threatened my footing, and finally that home stretch.  It wasn't the fastest run, but it was fun.  My final overall pace flashed across my watch in a 7:06, and I had to smile when I checked my final mile time.  It was a 6:41.  I had to run that last one hard because Bon Jovi told me to "live while I'm alive."  So I did.  Doubled over from the final effort, I walked the pain out of my legs and watched the palm trees give way to the strong gusts.

I wanted to share with you the songs on my new play list, and ask anyone who might be willing, to leave a comment with a few examples of your favorite running songs.  I'm sure everyone has their favorites, and clearly my play list needs help to be built up just a bit.

Cindy's Running Play list:
In the category of sappy and inspiring:
The Climb by Miley Cyrus
One Moment in Time by Whitney Houston

In the category of slowish but meaningful:
Bad Day by Daniel Powter
Because of You by Kelly Clarkson
Superman by Five for Fighting

In the category of old school upbeat:
It's My Life by Bon Jovi
Livin' on a Prayer by Bon Jovi
American Girl by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

In the category of edgy upbeat modern:
The Edge of Glory by Lady Gaga
Raise Your Glass by Pink
Viva La Vida by Coldplay

In the category of mellow inspiration:
Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson
Drops of Jupiter by Train

Please share your favorites.

The Battle of the Bulge

Months ago, sometime over the summer I think, I noticed that my injured Achilles, which had become my re-injured Achilles, had a notable bulge to it when my foot was in a flexed position.  This was ... un-nerving.  I hadn't noticed this bulge during the previous 5 months of injury.  Last year when my other Achilles was injured, it never featured a tell-tale bulge.  What could this mean?  Why the bulge?  I promptly did the smart thing.  I went online to self diagnose. 

Mission 1 was to find out if this meant a partial rupture.  Mission 2 was to find out if this was a symptom of some other problem.  Perhaps there was a condition called "Bulging Achilles."  Maybe I would discover that this was actually a sign of healing.  Maybe bulging is good, although it looked like a deformity.  There was not much information to be found, but the sum of what I did discover was: It was a symptom of Achilles Tendinitis (wow, a revelation), and, it indicated ankle instability.  What?  This was ... not helpful.  So there was a bulge and I didn't know what it meant, if it would ever go away, or if it would get worse.

During today's church service, we were singing one of my favorite songs, "Blessed Be Your Name."  The lyrics explain that God is to be praised during the good times and the bad.  Whether we are walking through a desert or basking in a land of plenty, praise God.  This song always causes me to be immediately introspective, so when I was singing, "Blessed be Your name, when I'm found in the desert place, though I walk through the wilderness, Blessed by Your name" I looked down at my injured foot.  Yes, in running, it has been a desert and a wilderness.  A battle of the bulge.  It was dark in the auditorium but in the illumination which remained, I flexed my foot and looked at the bulge.  I despised it so I rarely flexed and looked.  But you know, the lyrics and movement of the song compelled me.

Here's what I saw.  Almost NO bulge.  I was looking at an almost fully healthy Achilles tendon.  I flexed harder.  Where's the bulge?  All I saw was a slight bump that indicated one thing:  the desert was healing me.  The wilderness toughened me, and I was headed back to the land of plenty with the sun shining down on me.  I even snapped a photo when we got home.

I don't mean to be over dramatic about it, and I don't want to belittle the power of that worship song.  Life, as in running, is comprised of journeys into and out of deserts and streams of abundance.  And when I go introspective, running is not the only thing I ponder, but today the bulge, and lack there of, captured my attention. 

Thank you for reading.