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It’s Been A Bit; Things Happened

We will just get right into it, because, why not?

I got hurt. Not major hurt, but enough to go to rehab. A small meniscus tear.

Fortunately, not bad enough for surgery. I am nine weeks into twelve weeks of physical therapy. Can I say PT is the hardest work I’ve ever done? It’s hard to the point of being miserable and sweaty-tough. But it is very effective.

I started running (slow jog really) this past weekend. Very doable, though I kept it short. I am planning to do it again this afternoon. Still able to swim, bike and do yard work and housework. I can get up and down stairs easily and driving is no longer a problem. I do plan to race again; I cannot seem to get smart and give it up entirely. But the type and length of races will likely have to change. I do have a race on the schedule for September (a trail race) so you know I am committed.

And I no longer work full-time. And it’s fine; I had planned to stop anyway. I was genuinely miserable at my old job. I have never felt better than I have in the last three days. I sleep better and my outlook for the future is far more positive than it has been for the last four years.

And in the last three days, I have scheduled two interviews for part-time jobs, both very different from what I have done in the past. That’s a deliberate choice. I want to explore and expand the Old Age Funny universe. Just because I’m in the old age stage doesn’t mean I’m useless and incapable of doing new and different things.

I don’t know what the next chapter will look like, but at least now I have the opportunity to write more of it.

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I Spring-Cleaned To Exhaustion

It seemed like a good idea. Clean out the closet and clothes drawers, and donate to charity. It led to a pissy mood staring at my untidy pantry, pulling everything off the shelves, cleaning them, and ordering canisters, racks, and bins to reorganize everything.

It’s all my husband’s fault.

He was watching a cooking show on TV. The host showed her “messy” pantry and bemoaned the state of it: packages and boxes not lined up in perfect rows, baking products sharing space with spaghetti sauce jars, canisters unlabeled, and (horrors!) a whisk broom in the corner. Thanks to the magic of TV (and a few crew helpers, no doubt), the “after” pictures presented shelves and walls newly painted and glass containers in perfect rows, filled with pretty food.

I felt bad watching that. I felt worse when I looked at my pantry. But I did the right thing. I could find things in the pantry with no problem; if my husband had to locate a new bottle of mayo or a can of soup, he would get lost. So I emptied the shelves, tossed out truly expired food, cleaned the shelves, and ordered a set of canisters with airtight, locking lids, a canned goods rack, and two clear bins for small packaged products.

Staring at my dining room table and the card table alongside, filled with dry and canned goods, I am surprised at the duplication. Two containers of quinoa? Two canisters of bread flour? Two industrial-size rolls of aluminum foil? How does that happen?

The organization gear arrives mid-week. By next weekend, I will have pretty food, too. I do have a pretty clothes closet, along with a bag of donations (and a few items that were worthy only of the garage rag box).

The organization gear arrives mid-week. By next weekend, I will have pretty food, too. I do have a pretty clothes closet — and a bag of things to donate. The next project is the pots/pans/baking equipment collection that needs thinning out.

Me And My Vacuum Sealer: Food Fun!

I am a kitchen gadget geek. I have way too many things sitting on counters, hanging from the walls and ceiling, and stacked on shelves in two rooms. I do use many of them regularly, but some make occasional appearances for meal preparation. I have no issues donating books, clothes, and decorative household doo-dads, but no one will ever be able to lay claim to my culinary collection until after I am dead.

Thanks to a few donations of blood platelets, I earned a gift card that I used to purchase a vacuum sealer. I had seen the commercials and YouTube videos, but I had no idea how much fun it would be to chop and cut food, size the bags, fill them, and seal them. I even bought pre-sized bags to use along with the rolls.

And it has been nice to have fruits and vegetables in the freezer to grab when needed. I have learned that some things don’t freeze well (potatoes and broccoli were mushy), but other things (corn, peppers, onions, shredded cheese, cooked apples, and cherries) have been brilliant. I’ve made and frozen banana bread, apple hand pies, and chicken egg rolls. I plan on making breakfast bowls this weekend with some of the frozen vegetables.

The obvious reason for doing this: the cost of groceries is insane. When it’s on sale or in season, it makes sense to buy, process, and freeze whatever you can. But it also provides inspiration and augmentation when the same old pasta, rice, or baked potato isn’t enough or bores you silly. And if you travel to races, you can make and take your healthy, homemade before-and-after race breakfasts and snacks with zero fuss.

Caffeine-Free (And Not Loving It)

I gave up caffeine about three months ago. I still hate myself for doing that.

I did it because I had to. Sleep was getting more difficult to enjoy in periods longer than two hours at a time. Caffeine is the only legal drug that most athletes can still enjoy and not have to worry about what’s next on a drug test. I was never a pre-race quaffer of espresso or high-test energy drinks. I’ve seen other competitors suck them down, and always wondered if there was a hidden potty stop out there (besides the 20-yard tree dash) that I somehow missed. How does a body deal with pre-race nerves and a serving of get-up-and-go in a can? And no pun intended.

I did not suffer from the usual withdrawal symptoms, likely thanks to a daily NSAID I take for an arthritic knee. I feel less anxiety and stress, even though life is still stressful, and I fall asleep faster and stay asleep longer. My dream cycle is quite vivid and pleasant; nothing evil happens, and much of what I dream about looks familiar. I’ve read this does happen to some caffeine quitters, as a brain chemical called adenosine is no longer blocked, and deeper REM sleep is possible.

I do feel like a bit of a failure, however. I never thought I would be the one perusing the beverage labels, looking for the word “decaffeinated.” Or looking at a restaurant menu and settling for water when nothing decaf appeared in the drink selections. I am annoyed by the notion that going to a Cuban or Venezuelan restaurant could mean not getting my coffee fix as it should be: a small but brain-jarring brew, dark, rich, sweet, with a hint of milk and foam, and a reward when I race in neighborhoods that offer either or both.

OK, I will behave and mostly stay on the decaf wagon, but when I jump off occasionally, I will make it a small but worthy excursion.

Race Season Starts (yay!) And Colonoscopy By Mail?

Let the running begin!

Actually, it started two weeks ago. Two 5K races in a row, and so far, so good. I am feeling pretty decent, running three times a week, all in the mornings. The good news is that I got my high-heat practice in during summer afternoons, which sounds insane (my hottest practice was at the end of July, when it was 112°). The bad news is that the morning running comes at a sad price: my gym closed due to the owner’s illness. I have since built a mini-gym in my office. Floor mat, barbells, box step, medicine ball, and long bars. It’s not the same, but some days, it beats going out in the rain.

Lately, some things regarding senior healthcare have started to bother me. Yes, I am aware that the Medicare overlords tend to look at us over-65 folks as five-year-olds who know nothing about our own wellbeing. There are too many phone calls of both the human and robocall type, and I find them intrusive. If I want you, I let you know. I am capable of scheduling all my doctor visits, checkups, vaccinations, etc. And yes, I did get both flu and COVID shots this year. Too bad if that annoys you. I am in crowd situations often, and have a chronically ill spouse. It’s not about me.

Recently, two packages arrived from a third-party company my insurer works with. I did not request these items. One was a digital blood pressure cuff. OK, fine, I actually needed that, as my previous one finally quit working. I read the directions, figured out how to work it and had my doctor calibrate it. A very useful thing for me, as I do have high blood pressure.

The other item was creepier. It was one of those home test kits to be used in lieu of going for a colonoscopy. Full disclosure: I am not in the average to low-risk age group for colon cancer, and I do get regular colonoscopies. My lifestyle does not put me at high risk, nor does my family history. If you can handle the idea of sticking a toothpick in your poop and scraping into a three-inch container and sending it away, be my guest. To be discreet, I do check color and composition of my porcelain disposals to ensure on at least an educated visual level, that all is well.

And I do not want yet another company having my information, particularly this one, which has some significant issues regarding test result accuracy.

Maybe I am overly cautious about data breaches or annoyed by what feels like babysitting and a lack of trust. This seniorhood thing is not for the easily intimidated. But it can be funny. I still have the little poop collection vial from the home test kit. I was thinking about making a necklace out of it. Maybe filling it with sand and telling people it’s the ashes of the last person who made fun of me for being old.

Seven Miles I Didn’t Mean To Run

I meant to run about four or five miles this morning. I wound up with seven miles. It was not my fault, really.

I run on Sundays for two main reasons: to get my better half a newspaper, and it’s the one day when I can get a long run into my weekly schedule. So I did my usual trek to the nearest grocery store and … no papers.

I ran laps around the parking lot. Laps around the bank in the parking lot. Laps around the delivery dock in the back of the grocery store. Forty-five minutes and no papers. I finally left, realizing my hydration pack would run out of water not long after my legs would likely die, and the heat would creep up from miserable to unbearable.

I stopped at a drugstore nearby. No papers. I kept running to a small quick-stop grocery and found them. A nice big stack of newspapers. At that point, six and a half miles in, I could not muster the energy to get mad about this. Just bought it and finished the final half-mile.

Of course, the newspaper thing was maddening in a first-world-problems kind of way. However, this run does take me over the halfway mark in the half-marathon training. It’s hard to be bothered about the whole thing when it contributes positively to a goal.

I bought some new running kits and picked up two new sets of orthotic inserts. And the calendar is filling in. And there is an empty shelf for this season’s running shirt collection.

About five weeks to go.

Asheville Run: Loss, Labor, Love

I was in Asheville, North Carolina, last week. A family member finally had her wedding there; it was originally scheduled the weekend an evil bitch named Helene went through town. Everyone was shocked and heartbroken by the storm and the ensuing damage reports; many of us live in hurricane- or tornado-prone areas of the country, so we are familiar with the risks.

It’s one thing to see it all on TV and read about it in the papers. The in-person view is something else. It’s awful, tragic, and devastating damage. “Apocalyptic” and “biblical” are good starting points for the description. Water rose 20 feet and washed out buildings, leaving only outside walls and some internal structural steel. The railroad tracks alongside our hotel were silent, rendered useless due to buckled rails and missing ties.

Running is difficult in Asheville. Sidewalks are missing, chipped, cracked, or tilted in unexpected uphill-downhill non-patterns. There are hills, but those have always existed and are not getting any easier for yours truly. But drivers are patient, and actually let you cross the street in traffic. I did get a few runs in, and it was a mix of exhilaration and heartbreak, seeing the mud, boarded-up windows, and misplaced boulders.

Speaking of people, I’ve never met nicer folks working harder to restore a more beautiful place. There will be destroyed buildings, trashed lots, empty stores, abandoned homes, and the ever-present sound of dump trucks, electric saws, pounding hammers, and cranes moving broken signs and splintered lumber out, and installing new pipes, wires, and boards. Ashevillians are still working their regular eight-hour-a-day jobs and continue to create art, music, and culture. Looking at the remains of that awful day has to hurt. A photographer I spoke with at a local market (and whose work I bought) told me he had not taken any photos since the storm; it’s too hard to face the wrecked reality.

Asheville is resolute and robust, tough and durable, capable of taking a horrendous hit and returning strong, though different from before. There will be scars and missing parts. But go now, because it’s already #AshevilleAwesome.

Seen On TV: Cyclists Who Look Like Me!

I am sitting in my home office, with a run for this afternoon cancelled due to heavy rain (tomorrow is looking better for it), and I am accomplishing two good things in the meantime:

  1. I washed and polished my floors (although those tasks were overdue anyway).
  2. I am introducing you to All Bodies on Bikes, an organization I heard about this week on a morning TV show.

If you bike, hike, swim, do yoga, or run, AND you’re not a person of a certain size (hand raised here), then you know it’s hard to find nice, comfortable, and attractive workout gear. And it’s even harder sometimes to get psyched for a group run, ride, or workout session if everyone around you seems fitter, faster, stronger, better at this. All Bodies on Bikes (ABOB) understands this mindset, and their goal is an inclusive, safe, and comfortable atmosphere for cyclists of all sizes. Cycling (or any other form of sport or exercise) is meant to be a healthy workout, but it should be done with an attitude of joy and positivity. After all, if you hate it, you won’t do it.

The website offers a variety of resources: podcasts, blogs, book reviews, coaching, in-person events, truly stylish cycling gear sized from extra small to 6XL, and 14 local riding clubs. ABOB isn’t just a social club; the group wants to change the way the cycling industry operates. There is a need for bike shops and merchandisers to recognize the needs of larger riders, and ABOB is offering “Industry Training for Size Inclusion,” backed by General Motors and the League of American Bicyclists. This certification will benefit cyclists, gear brands, and shops; riders know they are shopping in a safe and welcoming space, and the many smaller mom-and-pop shops see an economic benefit.

The 12-member board of directors has some fascinating stories behind their involvement, but they all have a passion for strapping on a helmet and covering the miles, regardless of pace. You can sign up for free (paid memberships at varying levels are also offered), and I highly recommend this site. It’s a pleasure to see acceptance, inclusion, and a genuine “come as you are” welcome extended at a time when our differences are being increasingly demeaned and dismissed rather than celebrated.

Had To Have It; The Hydration Vest Arrived

I live in Florida, so you’ve already figured this out. It’s hot here. And it’s oppressively humid. It’s boil-the-brain-cells-then-squash-them-flat-them-flat kind of weather.

I was carrying a 16-ounce handheld bottle of ice and water on my runs, and figured out that after a four-mile run, that’s nowhere near enough of either. So I broke down, did my research, made the measurements, and bought a hydration vest.

It’s a pretty lavender shade with yellow piping, it’s lightweight (about four ounces empty), and holds one and a half liters. I can mix ice and water in the bag and find that it works well. My phone, jelly beans, and keys fit into the vest. Most importantly, my hands are free, which is safer for me in terms of balance and the ability to defend against any attacker.

I resisted the hydration vest for the longest time. But the ability to get one fitted just right was what changed my mind. Well, that, along with days over 90 degrees. I am aware that some major races, such as the Marine Corps Marathon, the Boston Marathon, and the NYC Marathon, do not allow vests for security reasons. I’m not running those; this is for my health and proper hydration. It’s also valuable for trail running, since there’s no water station to refill a bottle on most trails. I don’t honestly know how many miles I could run in a hydration vest. I’m going to try for seven miles tomorrow, and figure out if I’m still hydration vest-happy or hassled by then.

The kit just keeps getting bigger. But it’s OK. I’d still rather be working out than sitting on the couch.

Racing Season Over; The Next One Starts Fast!

The final race is done before the oppressive heat of the summer sets in.

It had hills (OK, not hills to most of you, but for us flatlanders, they hurt). I’m glad the season is over and happy to take a break, though I keep peeking at the summer calendar to see if there’s anything I’d like to do. The answer is “maybe, but remember it’s hellish hot and you’re insane for considering it,” keeps surfacing in my brain.

The week leading up to the end of the season was good. I saw friends for breakfast and lunch, and in one case, commiserated for several hours with the widow of a dear friend over the loss of her husband. I’ve known them both for 45 years, thanks to a college internship where I served with them. They are kind, caring, funny, intelligent, well-read, well-traveled, the best parents their two now-grown sons could ever experience, and fantastic grandparents to two sweet granddaughters. Losing one hurts, but I am grateful to still have the other to lean on.

I feel fortunate to be mostly pain-free most days and have a competitive life to continue. I have a home and transportation I own, food and utilities, pets who like me (especially when I feed and pet them), friends and family who still speak to me. I look forward to a little downtime from racing, though the half-marathon idea is still pinging around in my head. I have space on the medal hanger and an empty shelf in the T-shirt collection area of the closet, ready for next season.

I Am Doing This Half-Marathon Thing…Right?

I’ve been reading the nutrition guides (originally to lower my A1C, but that’s an additional benefit), training plans, and I’m now listening to running podcasts. I just bought a new pair of running shoes (half-size larger to help with the “runner’s toes” syndrome, also called “tree frog toes” in a hilarious Women’s Running podcast) and larger-size socks (which also help the feet). My final race of the season is Memorial Day Monday, but I am already looking at next season starting in September.

And yes, I am looking at a half-marathon.

It’s a ridiculous idea. But my last one, almost three years ago, did not end especially well. I finished, but I was not proud of it. I want another shot at it before I die. I want to prove to myself that I can do it, that I am not too old or physically wonky.

I am looking at a race in the area, close to home, to minimize any issues should a medical calamity occur. I am looking at a race at the end of the year, when it’s not hideously hot and humid. I am training in the heat of the late afternoons twice a week, because it’s necessary (weather is the great unknown in racing here; it can be a tropically warm or near-freezing winter here). The third day is a pre-dawn start for a longer run.

I am going to bed earlier, eating better, and spreading out my house and yardwork so I am not exhausted by either one. My running kits are in good order, folded and rolled in a hanging bag, and several drawers’ full (yes, I have way too many kits).

So yes, I guess I am doing this thing.

10K Tough Enough? Surprise, Yes!

Last Sunday was my first 10K since knee rehabilitation ended. I finished with a first-place age group win. The weather was perfect, and fortunately, the start was early enough to get it done before the heat caught up. I also had the opportunity to visit a Hispanic grocery store and enjoy and buy the different foods I found on the shelves.

I was pumped enough to come home and actually start considering longer runs. I stopped the half-marathon distance about three years ago. My last 13.1 miler was nothing to be proud of, though I did finish. Thus far, I’ve printed out a 16-week training program and downloaded a nutrition program. I painfully remember what was needed to prepare for the last one, and how I fell short despite what I thought was enough hard work. I learned that over-preparation would have helped for a race that had four drawbridge crossings. Note to self: this time, if there is a next time, it’s a flat course.

Do I want to start this again? I’ve already written in a few races for the next season, none of them the half distance. I could do without this stress. But I did my last half no justice, and I would like another shot at a better finish.

Something to think about on the next few runs.