Twinsies! Today I crossed over into a new level of married old person. I wore the same running shoes as my husband, the Saucony Kinvera 10. To be fair, they are different colors and to be even more fair, this is not the first pair of matching running shoes we have owned. We both had a love affair with our Merrell Bare Access trail shoes, he still wears his in races, I am afraid they contributed to my plantar plate injury.
My Saucony Kinvera 10 is a very pretty color, I am going to call it seafoam green.
I felt good running today, I ran at a good pace, not my fastest, but I ran each subsequent mile faster than the one before and wound up close to me 5k pace for a 4 mile run with lots of steep hills.
This is the 3 year anniversary of my running journey. My son signed us up for a Christmas school run, I tried to train as best I could. I think my time was 32 minutes for the 5k and I felt like I would die for the rest of the week, I mean walking down the stairs backwards because my quads hurt kind of die. My life has changed so much since then. The idea of running six miles for fun was something I couldn’t have conceived of at the time. I had foot pain before I ever started running, a neuroma, which made walking painful. My feet are still my “Achilles heel,” but I have learned some new tricks to help them out. Lacing is still the key to my foot comfort.
I kept the Saucony Kinvera 10 laced as they were from the factory, we’ll call this “normal” lacing. I posted earlier about my voyage into the world of “unconventional” lacing here. After 3 miles, I was getting numbness and tingling in my toes. I stopped and retied the left shoe, which is my problem foot (for now.) I threaded the laces unilaterally from the 4th and 5th hole up and then added the cinches at the ankle eyelet. This seemed to relieve most of the pinched feeling I was having.
They sure are prettier than my Hokas.
When I first put these shoes on, they felt like they rubbed on the inside of my heel. I wore them around the house for a while and it still seemed stiff in the inner heel. I was surprised that when I ran, I didn’t feel any rubbing in this area. I was also expecting more bounce as the foam on the Kinvera is “squishier” than the Hoka foam.
I will try them again, this was a good run, the weather was a little warmer too, so that helped!
Despite my low battery and lack of image loading, I earned 25 percent off!
Thanks RunKeeper, I will stick to my free tracking, but I do appreciate the offer and the encouragement!
To be fair, I had a few fast races this month and I have been trying to do my “sprints” or “tempo runs.”
Today was cold, I do not like to run on a treadmill so it will have to be in the low 20’s for that travesty to happen. I waited as long as I could, schedule wise, to run today. This February weather for me, I was not mentally or physically prepared, but I have 2 new shoes to try out.
brrrr
Today I tried the new Hokas. I have been running in the throwback Clifton 1 one, it has been the savior of my hammer toe, documented here. The Hoka Clifton 5 were less hideous than the shoes I already owned and were on sale for a mere $99! They boasted a knit finish/body/heel? I chose a less garish color and waited for their slow delivery.
Not neon. I believe it is called lichen.
I ran a slow first mile pretty much uphill ( my house is sadly at the bottom of a half-mile hill.) I then began my “sprint” work out. I have decided to try to run quarter miles as fast as I can, pausing between each to blow my nose (it was freezing) and regain my composure. I did this for a mile and then ran the last mile at my ideal 5k pace. It was a challenging run and I definitely felt stronger on my last mile. This could be a combination of my longer, 6 mile runs and the tempo runs.
As for the shoes, I think they are very comfortable when standing, I did not care for them on my run. I think the toe box is narrower than in the Clifton One 1 (so many ones!) I found my 3rd and 4th toes were getting numbness/tingling. I also felt like my heel was slipping. The material is stiffer than the Clifton 1 Ones and wasn’t as forgiving on my hammer toe. I prefer the lighter mesh on my old Hokas, they also seem to be lighter but that may be due to the frigid temperatures numbing my appendages.
I will try to run in them again but I think I will try putting new insoles into my old Hokas. Tune in next time when I cave to husband pressure and try the Saucony Kinvera 10, a running shoe that is the perfect crayola color of seafoam green!
Back to my Runkeeper kudos, I am slightly obsessive about tracking my runs. I don’t throw out any data unless it is something really disruptive like bringing in my neighbors trashcan and forgetting that I started my run. I have two more “major” races this year. My local run club has updated the grand prix standings and I still seem to be holding on to my coveted 40-49 plaque! I am hoping that my fastest pace in a month with translate to a new PR!
It’s been building to a slow simmer these last 43 years…
I have a rival. Does this mean I have a -rive-d? I didn’t know I had a Rival until the I ran a recent 5k in which I made pleasant chit chat with anyone who would make eye-contact with me. There is a YOUNG woman, about my age who had introduced herself to me at a 5k earlier in the year. She actually was the one who encouraged me to sign up for my first 10k.
I had been making my attempts at “tempo runs” so I expected to do well on this flat course on a cool morning. And I did! I set a PR which to others may have been slow but to me, it was a very, very fast, almost supersonic 25:52. I won’t mention that my son who finished in 17:20 was digging into a bagel while I was in mile 2.
I joined the local run group because I thought it would give me discounts on races. It doesn’t. But membership was cheap and joining something in real life not the internet has been on my to-do list for a decade or so. Apparently there is a 40-49 women’s age group award that is highly sought after. The recognition also includes what I am told is a handsome plaque with the engraved race times for the year of the feat.
I am still of the mindset where I am just so pleased that I can finish a race that I can’t quite conceive of being in competition. God willing, that handsome plaque will be hanging on my wall next year!
Today was warmer than it has been and sunny, I took advantage of this by taking a slower paced but longer distance run.
My goal was to run for about an hour and this worked out to exactly 6 miles. The funny thing is, I really start to feel good after mile 4. I am not sure if this is my body going into protective mode, thinking I am dying and sending me off towards the bright light with an extra surge of serotonin, but I feel good. I always think I am an idiot for trying to run in the first mile, I hate everyone in the second mile and by the third I start to feel ok. Maybe that’s why I don’t love 5ks, I spend the majority of the time angry! I need to work on this.
I spent much of the last 2 years nodding whenever someone talked about a tempo run. My run consists mainly of trying not to die and looking strong when I run past a neighbor, and snot rocketing off in the woods when nobody is watching. There isn’t a lot of planning. I go out and see if I feel like running fast-ish or slow-ish. It all usually depends on what and when I last ate. Sometimes I stop (don’t tell anyone, but Runkeeper knows all.) I have now broken the 26 minute mark in a 5k race. My last race was a 25:52, Nike will be calling any day now.
I have decided that it is time I work on my speed. While I am still young. I am still being beaten in races by women in their 50’s so I think there is a glimmer of hope. I am still the slowest in my family. My 10 year old daughter beats me by a minute or more, but she is a freak. My son is now running high school cross country and is hovering in the 17’s. So speed is relative, much like the speed of light.
I had to google tempo run, since my husband has been telling me about his for a few months and I have been nodding…. So my interpretation of a tempo run is probably not legit so do not take any advice from me.
I do not know what I am doing, I seem to be getting faster, I make no claims about my level of expertise.
Here is what I did today: Interval training, not a Tempo run
I ran up my steep hill, about 0.6 of a mile at a very relaxed 9:20 pace.
I stopped, looked around to make sure nobody was watching because I still feel like I look like Phoebe running.
Not actual footage but add in a snot rocket and we are getting close.
I then ran 0.25 at the fastest pace I felt like I could run a quarter of a mile, which for me was about 7:10 (my son considers this his recovery pace, I call it my recovery room pace.) I stopped at the quarter, did some deep breathing and put my hands on my hips. Then off like a rocket I went again, this time closer to half a mile and a 7:30 pace. I stopped and ran down another very steep hill and then back up the very steep hill at a more normal 8:30 pace, at this point I had run close to 2 miles and I decided it was time to put on my inspirational music for my last mile (not 8 mile) and see what I could do.
As Eminem’s Lose Yourself played, I ran home. All the way home. I am unsure of the pace for the first quarter as the split is calculated as an 8:08 but was combined with part of my slower uphill run but my last 0.7 was a 7:16! “Feet fail me not,” indeed. Not bad for a 43 year old who never ran before she was 40!
“Smoke quickly filled the room” is a dramatic yet accurate way to begin this story. I was wandering through our yard, checking for groundhog damage and picking the last of my grapes. This sounds much more interesting than it really was, I have but one concord grape vine and this year at the summer solstice, the animals surrounding my house gathered round and feasted upon everything I had planted this spring. When the feasting was done, I was left with a few grapes and strawberry stumps, my lilies, tomatoes, beans and roses were trashed. I threw some netting over the grape vine to keep the deer from getting all of the grapes and forgot about them. Last weekend I realized there were quite a few grapes and called the children round to harvest, my teenage boy had no interest so my daughter and I set forth to fill our ziploc bag.
I was about to update my readers (though Google analytics tells me that I have no readers) about a decent cake I made. A few posts back, I discussed my ineptitude for baking but I am capable of occasionally making a cake that doesn’t look like it fell from a great height onto the pavement. Occasionally.
Every year, I ask my beloved children what cake they would like for their birthdays. No matter how ridiculous, I find a way to make this cake. As they have matured, I thankfully no longer have to figure out how to make a race car or a bunny shaped cake.
Bunny is a little scary, car doesn’t look like it would pass inspection….
This year, my daughter’s request was to have a chocolate cake with coconut-vanilla frosting. I used my trusted Ina Garten recipe for Beatty’s cake. I am not sure if this is pronounced Betty as in Crocker or Beady as in Richard Gere’s eyes or Beatty as in Shirley Maclaine’s brother. This recipe borders on too many ingredients and steps, hence the mind wandering about the pronunciation.
Beady, Betty, Beatty?
Anyway, I made jam, which as I have learned is the lazy person’s jelly. I only had enough precious grapes for serving size of jam. I found a recipe that involved as few ingredients and steps as possible since my attention span is inversely proportional to both ingredients and steps.
It tasted delicious, my husband claimed it gave him a stomach ache but the rest of us enjoyed jam with dinner and breakfast the next morning. I look forward to making enough jam for 6 people next year, provided I can stop the wild rumpus from eating all of my bounty on the solstice.
Back to the room filling with smoke. I intended to “brown” some ground beef. I find that I usually don’t pre-heat my pan enough and end up boiling my meat. Mmm, boiled meat. Eat up kids! My pan was hot. Too hot. I knew as soon as I added my meat that it was not only “browning” but burning. I turned down the heat and opened a door to allow the cool, 90 degree breeze to carry away the smoke before the alarms went off. In my haste to move around the “browning” meat, I sent a few raw pieces airborne and onto the backsplash. Not quite a fail but ironic as I was about to write about my cake and jam conquest. Hubris.
Banana bread is my nemesis
This brings me to my next baking fail, the pile of banana bread. I had to use spell check to figure out how to spell banana, I still think it should have 3 n’s but google tells me it does not. Banana bread should be vaguely bread-like, maybe not sandwich bread-like but some sort of slice-able bread. As mentioned in other posts , https://learningnewtricks.com/index.php/2019/05/20/i-am-not-a-baker/
directions are usually not my thing.
I was making a banana bread and tried to make it “healthier” by omitting a bit of sugar and substituting roughly half of the “evil gluten flour” with “lamb of god almond flour.” Some say it was too humid that day, some say I was in a rush to pick up one or the other kid and took the sad banana pile out of the oven too early, others say my kitchen is haunted.
I present to you, my banana pile! Eat up kids! Sometimes I can say it still tasted good but in this case, it tasted like baking soda.
Don’t mind if I do!The rinds are the best part.
My garden is now facing the first frost, even though my veggies were a huge failure this year and my one serving of jam was a feeble showing, my flowers were beautiful!
More words I never thought I would type. Even after I started running but still did not refer to myself as a runner, I said something like, “3.1 miles is as far as I will ever run, you would have to be crazy to run further than that.”
I ran two 8k races last year, including the Busch Gardens “Christmas Town Dash,” which may have been the precursor to my “mysterious foot ailment” written about in this post.
I was surprised that I could run 5 miles when I usually feel like dying after one, let alone 3.1. I realized that I actually liked these longer runs, I paced myself better, started slower and felt stronger. I think I could have run them faster, I was around a 9:15 min pace for the 8k, but I was also running with my 9 year old daughter ( she rocked it!)
There is something about the pace and the sprint feeling of running a 5k that gives me anxiety. When I was preparing for this 10k, a race I decided to run less than a week before it happened, I didn’t set a specific time goal. I wanted to finish!
I had dreams about the little golf cart (turns out it is a bike) sweeping me off the course when they had to reopen the road to the public. I did not want to be swept away on a golf cart. Or a bike. I ran 5 miles the day before the race and felt like I did a pretty good job on a trail that was hilly and rocky and resigned myself to a 6:45 am race day registration the next day.
I hear the best way to train for a race is to set an arbitrary time and hope that you don’t get “swept away” by the course marshall. I am not even sure if this is a real phrase or if I dream/nightmared being a golf-cart-driving-course-marshall-sweeping me away.
I don’t like to plan things too far ahead which confuses people as I am pretty uptight and type A but I now realize this has more to do with wanting to keep my options open for any and all variables such as weather, illness, mood etc. I do the same thing with travel plans, I hate to plan too far in advance and prefer to “wing it” with a rough itinerary.
Back to My First 10k. It was awesome. It was an unusually cool morning for the time of year, I told myself it was ok to do 10 min miles, but I really wanted to be in under 1 hour. I started strong but tried not to go out too fast, the adrenaline rush is strong in me! My first mile was a 9:20, much faster than I had “trained” for this distance and with thoughts of golf carts sweeping me away, I slowed to a 9:30, a pace I stuck to until mile 5 where I slowed even more to a 9:40. I had also given myself permission to stop and rest/walk/drink water during the race. I don’t usually stop in races but I stop all of the time when I run for fun… I like to run with my daughter so I can say it was her idea but I know it’s probably because I feel like stopping!
I did not stop even once. I did not need water, I felt like I was on a conveyor belt to the finish and managed to get to a 9:17 pace for the final quarter mile! Average pace was 9:33 and I finished in under an hour, 59:45. I actually chatted with the woman who I was following for 4 miles, staring at the back of her head in a zen-like fashion. I probably ran slower the last two miles because of it, but I think it made the race more enjoyable and helped distract me from the fact that I HAD NEVER EVER RUN THIS FAR!
I also ran this race alone, I didn’t think this was a good distance for my daughter, my son had been doing pretty intense high school cc conditioning and my husband was recovering from an injury. It was just me and it felt good! My dear husband drove me to the race and cheered me on at the end, I think I surprised him with my cheerfulness in the home stretch.
I am still “learning new tricks” but I think that you would have to be crazy to ever run more than 6.2 miles…. If you want to try something new, sign up for a 10k! You will love it!
Sounds like a self-help book. I had two instances this week where someone told me my running had inspired them. This is something that flatters me in a way nothing else has, I was never an “athlete” and to have people tell me I have made them want to run gives me a sense of purpose.
My very nice neighbor with two young children asked me for opinion about running shoes. I warned her that my experience is limited but that I love my Merrells, I love them more than I ever thought I could love a shoe. I love them so much that I have a second identical pair and I am considering buying a few more (they are discontinued.)
These shoes are so light weight you forget you are even wearing shoes! (But you are so take them off in my house.) I have very high arches and always thought I needed shoes with heavy-duty arch support. I am not sure how I came across these “minimalist” running shoes but they saved my feet. As mentioned in this previous post, I had a Morton’s neuroma and when I wore these shoes, my pain disappeared! I wear them a full size larger than my normal shoes size and to date, I have not lost a single toe nail!
With my latest “hammer-toe-itis” I have tried an alternate lacing technique, described here.
Would you trust someone who tied their shoes like this? I wouldn’t.
It looks like a blind and thumb-less person got tangled up in my laces but it really helped take the pressure off the top of my foot. Getting the laces off my pressure point stopped the numbness and pain. Surprisingly, no one has mentioned this crazy lacing or they were too polite to stare.
I love the Merrell Bare Access Arc 4 shoe so much that I bought my daughter a pair from the outlet clearance rack! Could this be any cuter?
mini (malist) me
Back to my story of inspiring those around me. My sweet neighbor said that watching me and my family (we all run) made her want to run again! Today at Harris Teeter, I was wearing one of my many 5k t-shirts as I was planning to do some yard work and I don’t dress up much when I am not at work. The checker said something like “I wish I could do something like that.” I wasn’t sure if she meant walk around with no make-up and unshowered but she said, “run a 5k or 8k or anything.”
I blushed, because even though I am old, I still can’t take a compliment. I told her, “You can definitely do it! “I didn’t start running until I was 40!”
I had been waiting my whole life to say this to someone. Then she said the most wonderful thing I have ever heard…
“You are over 40? You don’t look like you could be over 40.”
Maybe she was lying but I don’t care, all of this running and Tru Niagen is paying off!
You can learn new tricks over 40, my times have continued to improve. I will never be an elite runner, but I can run 3 to 5 miles at a respectable pace is proof that we can get better as we get older.
While we are talking about mini me, here is the painting I reprinted to give to all of the father’s in my life for Father’s Day. This is my daughter and husband at the beach (obviously. ) I loved her holding his hand, I also liked the tint giving the painting a vintage look.
My kids like to torture me with a woman named Dr. Jean. Have you heard of her? If you have, I am sorry. Bleeding eardrums. One of her hot songs has a line called, “my mother is a baker a baker a baker.”
I am not a baker. Ironically, when I was searching for this video clip, my mother is a serial killer was google’s helpful suggestion. If I had to listen to Dr. Jean, this would be true for my children.
The unfortunate voice of a generation.
At one point I was trapped in a cabin with my children as they played me all of these Dr. Jean songs, the worst of which was about peeling a banana.
I encourage you to browse the body of her work. If you like to inflict pain upon yourself. I was fortunate enough to have been born in the 1970’s and though the clothing choices were pretty much corduroy or corduroy, we never had to listen to such hits as “Tooty Ta, Going on a Bear Hunt, the Rules of the Classroom, Today is Sunday.” I consider her the musical equivalent of looking at Caillou. Or listening to Caillou. When I type Caillou, my Google overlords tell me it is not spelled correctly, suggesting callous instead. You would have to be callous to insert an audio clip of Caillou so I won’t inflict it upon you. His voice sends shivers down my spine.
Funny story, when my son was 2 we moved from New England to Virginia, at the time he loved this bald headed annoying moppet. When we moved I told him we were now too far from Canada to get Caillou on the television. This was a lie of course and one I am not ashamed of. I did feel a little bad when my son found Caillou many years later on Netflix and said something about how amazing technology was to allow us to view Canadian television in Virginia.
Back to my point, I am not a baker. I enjoy cooking sometimes, I get creative when I need to. I like to think of my life as one big mystery basket from Chopped, give me the ingredients, and I will whip something up. I like to be creative, baking is not very forgiving to us creative types. I recklessly substitute ingredients, adjust oven temperatures to better suit my moods. Recipes are mere jumping off points for me. Jumping headlong into the fire is more accurate. I hate to use more than one bowl for anything. Yet all of these recipes ask for wet ingredients in one bowl, dry ingredients in another, semi-gloss and matte over here etc. I don’t have that kind of patience. I understand that there is a chemical reaction that I am prolonging or truncating, but I don’t care. I am focused on efficiency and all of those bowls hurt me at my core.
Behold the simple cornbread. Or is it? One of my many baking shortcomings is that I don’t actually print or keep recipes, I always think I will remember which one of the 20,000 online recipes I used. I don’t and there are definite winners and losers out there. Especially when you don’t actually have the ingredients on hand.
My son, who is my technical support since I did not know until today that I two finger tap to spell check or select an image (Learning New Tricks!) said to me, “this recipe looks really easy, how could you mess this up? ” He then added, with the knowledge of hindsight, “I don’t see vinegar listed as an ingredient here.” Which is true and pretty much the beginning and end of my problem.
I know people say you can substitute buttermilk for whole milk curdled by the addition of white vinegar. I have done so somewhat successfully in the past. As I measured out my 1 cup of milk, carefully reading the bottom of the meniscus, I was about 1/4 to 1/5 a cup shy of 1 cup, no problem, I will make up the volume with my added vinegar! Quelle Brilliance! I was too lazy to open the unopened gallon in the fridge leading me later to repeat the “Old Greek Saying” that “he who does not have brains must have legs.”
Upon removing the very dense bread from the oven, straining a bicep. I was overpowered by the smell of vinegar. I tasted a tiny corner and headed straight to the trash to spit it out. My husband, who is kind and will eat anything, said it wasn’t bad once it cooled. I didn’t bother tasting it again, calling it dense would be an insult to lead.
No, it’s not a peanut butter bar of some sort.
Later that week, I made breaded chicken tenders. I have cooked these many times and usually use a think layer of olive oil in the pan. Trying to be thrifty, I had reserved the oil from making Loukomades (Greek Doughboys) for our non-traditional Greek Easter celebration. I am not sure on the exact chemistry here but there must have been sugar residue in the oil…Overly blackened chicken anyone?
Finger breaking good.
Which bring me to the pièce de résistance! My meringues! I had leftover egg whites and not nearly enough time to actually dry them appropriately but gobs of ambition. Everything was great until I decided that 2 hours in the oven was plenty and took them out. Never trust a baker who learns everything she knows from the interwebs, she probably diagnosis her own foot conditions too. They were sticky but still tasty and the kids and I enjoyed them. There were a few left over so I stuck them in a ziploc baggie. The next morning, this is what I saw
Would it help if I said it tasted like a Charleston Chew?
My poor, deflated Meringues, you deserved so much more.
I have self-diagnosed myself (allow myself to introduce myself)
many times over the years via google. I have had various foot ailments, Morton’s neuroma ( a neuroma so good it has a salt named after it. Actually, I have been to the Morton mansion in Nebraska City, Nebraska. It is beautiful and not made of salt, it is also the home of Arbor Day.
I am not sure it was a Morton’s neuroma but the pebble in the shoe feeling turned into a constant burning and lasted well over a year. This was about 5 years ago and since then, I seem to have resolved the right foot and stumbled upon a new problem on my left foot. We ran 2 Christmas races, including an 8k, which to me still seems like a marathon, I then spent a weekend squatting and reaching to remove The World’s Ugliest Wallpaper. The next morning, I could not stand on my foot. It was swollen and felt like I was walking on a brick. According to my magic 8 Google, I had a partial tear of the plantar plate, or a stress fracture, or gangrene. It was Christmas and ain’t nobody got time to go to the doctor so I suffered and survivied with NSAIDS and clunky old-lady sandals, which I later found to be the almost identical to the horrendously ugly Hoka’s I wound up wearing to heal my wounds and wound my pride.
I never go to the actual doctor, but this time, I was a responsible adult, I sucked up my pride and my several thousand dollar deductable and made an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon. When I made the appointment, I couldn’t walk. By the time several weeks had passed, I was mobile, in pain and bruised looking but mobile. When I arrived in the waiting room, I realized I had made a huge mistake. To say I was the only one in the waiting room not in a full body cast would be an accurate statement. Clearly my little foot pain was going to pale in comparison to the horrific injuries these people were dealing with. I hoped in my permanent record it would show the doctor that I am not a cry-baby and I hardly ever seek medical attention. After hours of waiting, they took an x ray of my foot. The tiny doctor man who was no more than 20 years of age told me he couldn’t see a stress fracture. I asked about this metatarsalgia I had read about or metatarsal plate tear, he said it was possible but my bunions were the likely cause. Perhaps, but I have had these same bumpy bunions since I was 12 and this second toe on my left foot was now club-footed when it used to be straight.
Long story short, I even went to a podiatrist who was even more dismissive than the orthopedist. In the orthopedist’s defense, I wasn’t yet in a full body cast and I did walk both into and out of the office so pretty much a success story. I work in healthcare and see my share of worry-worts, I don’t dismiss their problems. I have a deformed toe when there wasn’t one a few months ago and Dr. Google tells me it’s from a tear, likely permanent at this point. Dr. Foot gave me an adhesive pad for my shoe, spent 10 seconds looking at my foot, didn’t have me stand or look at my pile of shoes I was thoughtful enough to bring in. When I am ready for bunion surgery, I should call him. Hmm, no thanks, I’ll see the 20 year body cast mummy artist.
In my extensive research, I find a blog from a woman dressed up for a Disney themed race who seems to have had my injury and is now able to run again in whimsical outfits with even uglier shoes, the Hokas. The premise of these abominations is that if you design the shoe with a rocker bottom, the stress of pushing off on your toe is eliminated and by choosing the worst colors imaginable, it takes your mind of any physical pain by replacing it with searing-eyeball ugliness.
I bought the Hokas that were said to be so comfortable, they were legendary! They were re-introducing the HOKA One one 1. Uno? I am not sure why there are so many ones but alas, here we are. I accidently ordered the uglier of the 2 color choices, tried them fora few weeks, decided they were too big and ordered the smaller size with the less ugly color scheme. Less ugly being the operative word.
really.ugly.shoes. bright yellow soles?
It is now May and I had built my way back up to that oh-so marathon like 8k mark when fate stepped in and squashed my foot again. I am not sure if this is still residual from my now deformed hammer toe creating tendonitis, a tight calf muscle or just old age sticking her thumb in my eye but I have a burning painful to the touch feeling on the inside of my leg. It is not visibily swollen, I don’t think I have a blood clot, though that is always my first thought. It feels like a nerve and a blood vessel had a fight and both of them woke up sore the next morning. I have been analyzing new and excitng ways to tie my shoes in order to relieve pressure from the top of my foot. I am able to put a shoe on today, so I consider this a small victory. I am going to try the skip lacing. I had been alternating my Hoka Clifton 1 with my Merrell Bare Access 4 as I thought the additional cushioning would help reduce any stress related injury but now I am thinking I will go back to the Merrell full time. Though the Hoka is said to be a 4mm heel drop, I feel the difference in my calf when I switch back.
We are supposed to run some sort of charity mile race, grouped by age, this Saturday. We shall see if old-mother nature is going to keep me down. Until then, I will be staring, exasperated, at these diagrams.
I spent way too long trying to figure out an alternate lacing pattern, who knew there were so many?
There isn’t an option for 40 year old bunion feet.
On the bright side, being sidelined allowed for me to spend some extra time painting this weekend. I came up with this little number from a photograph I took around the Chesapeake Bay.
Later I did some tutorials with my favorite youtube watercolor artiste, Umberto Rossini!
and my attempts, one on hot press Arches paper (because I have never painted on hot press before) and one on cold press Arches
I didn’t get the vibrancy that Umberto has, I always feel like the paint is going on bold but forget how much it fades!
I wanted to start writing about my experiences as a newly minted runner, if it is possible to be newly minted at anything in your 40’s. I was never a runner. I spent the last few decades joking that I ran only when chased, hilarious, I know. In high school I was made to run a mile for the Presidential Physical Fitness test, I remember it being very difficult for me and at that point, I vowed to never run again. (Unless I was being chased.)
Fast forward a few decades, a marriage, several moves, a couple of kids and a business, physical fitness wasn’t a priority. I didn’t think I was exactly out of shape, but at one point we had to run to a gate to catch a connecting flight and I felt like I was going to die. I periodically weighed myself and felt like I was “in range” until I wasn’t. One day I realized that I weighed more than I did when I was pregnant, it was a shock. I am a petite person and 20 extra pounds if a big deal.
My son started middle school and joined a running club. Now some background, this kid has always loved to run. I joked that he got it from my husband’s side of the family. Not from me. No way, I could barely run the mile in high school, after all. When he was little, I would send him out to run laps around the house, he loved it.
Is it a wise idea to take up running in your 40’s? Maybe, maybe not. I will say I feel better physically, despite a few injuries, than I have in my entire life. It could be that the bar for feeling good gets lower as we age but I like to think I am actually in better shape. I am not a marathon runner, but I could not imagine running 1 mile, let alone 3.1 (it’s the .1 that gets you) two years ago. I want to encourage and inspire you to take that first run! Running seems hard in the beginning but it is quite literally, one foot in front of the other. If something gets in your way, go around it. Follow me for more tips!
