Day 29: A distinct pain in my ass.

That isn't griping about anybody or anything around me.  No, that would literally be a distinct pain in my ass, thanks to a tight right hip flexor.  I remembered some time in the middle of the night (as I tried to sleep on my right side and started whimpering from the pain) that I had meant to get out the heating pad and do a few rounds of heat and ice.  I definitely need to do it tonight.  It's funny (not in that amusing sort of way, but go with me here) that it's the hip itself that hurts when I'm walking but my bum when I'm sitting.  I need to do a refresher on the anatomy of the ass. 

I'm starting off Week mumble mumble -- what is this, Week 5?  Yes, Week 5 -- all bright eyed and bushy tailed (and ass achy, but we've already covered that).  As in, I am doing absolutely nothing exercise related on my rest day.  It's tough, I know, I'm feeling the burn, but it has to be done.  Actually, it is such a beautiful day here in the Pacific Northwest that if you told me that I could take the rest of the day off if I went out instead and ran I would totally do it.  I wouldn't run tomorrow, but I would totally do it.  It is supposed to be nice at least through Wednesday. 

I didn't really get a chance to say much about yesterday's long run.  Eight miles is the farthest I have gone to date.  It went pretty well, except for my hip.  The pain wasn't enough to make me stop for good, but I did stop several times to stretch out my hip, and it was enough to think "Boy, this would really be annoying if it felt this way for 26.2 miles."  I already know I'll be packing some advil in the marathon and now I'm pretty sure I'll have tucked away an emergency vicodin.  It's not like I'm planning to drive that day or anything.  It hurts because the muscle is excessive tight.  What better remedy than a muscle relaxer?  If I were running on a broken bone, that would be totally different.  For example, I wouldn't be running, period.  I'd be sitting at home, chasing vicodin with vodka or something.  Or maybe tequila, I'm not a big vodka kind of a person. 

Anyhow, back to the run.  I've noticed -- and maybe you have too -- that I'm much much slower on the long runs.  At first, I told myself, "Self, the runs are longer.  You get more tired, it's natural that you'd be slower."  Which sounds all logical, right?  Except that I was even running the shorter distances of my long run slowly.  As in, you'd think I'd be running the first three or four miles at a decent pace.  But I wasn't.  I think I've finally figured out why that is:  Most of my long run routes have been in straight lines.  And apparently, seeing that distance stretch out endlessly in front of me, my tiny little bwain feels overwhelmed by it all and I slow down. 

Stupid, tiny little bwain.

So, I am happy to report that yesterday I ran a lot more than I have been, and nearly got under a 13 minute per mile average pace.  I would have ran a lot, lot more except for my hip flexor.  (Stupid, tiny little hip flexor.)  But even then, I would run a mile and then stop and stretch then walk for a minute or two before beginning to run again.  (I also stopped to take a few pictures of the river, which I need to download -- I probably could have been under 13 minutes if not for that.)  Later in the run, I would walk at the mile in order to do a shot blok and sip some water.  I may have not been fueling properly for these long runs.  Yesterday, my legs started to get really tired so I decided to do a shot blok ahead of schedule.  It seemed to help, so after another mile I did another one.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  Maybe I need to do some more research on this. 

Hmmm.  On the weigh in issue, I did not heifer back up into the 189s but I was slightly higher than the day before.  Still, I'll take the overall loss for the week.  By the way, out of curiosity I weighed a glass of water this weekend -- the cup in the bathroom with which I, you know, drink water.  I don't usually weigh myself every day but I wanted to see how I fluctuated overal several days.  Since this wasn't routine, I would remember to do it at the last minute, and usually right after I'd had a glass of water.  I'm sure that those people who do not have tiny little bwains will realize right away that two cups of water weighs one pound.  You know, two cups, a cup is 8 oz, a pound is 16 oz, insert "D'oh!" here.   What can I say, it takes me a while to get intelligent in the mornings.  Anyhow, I'm trying to remember to be 100% pure CilleyGirl before stepping on the scale, with no artificial fillers or colorings or anything.  Yep, me and Foster Farms chickens.

As a side note, Foster Farms is a client of mine.  If you ever want to get turned off of eating chicken, try reading a list of their equipment.  Just reading the list.  No need to see it in action or anything.  Because, what the hell is a "paw puller"?  Do chickens have paws?  And it gets worse from there. 

But I still loves me some chicken.  I'm really not terribly squeamish. 

And on that note (or side note, as the case may be), I will leave you to your chicken dreams.

Cheers,
the CilleyGirl