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.

Halfway Through The Race Season Already? And What’s Next?

Seems a little unreal, actually, but here it is, early February, and I am planning March, April, May, and June (it’s too hot to race in July and August here).

Except for a small issue involving a strained knee ligament (and with runners, almost all issues are small, even when they aren’t), it’s been a decent season. I aged up to the next group. This is nice because it is a reminder that I have yet again, outlived more people who are not competing. I am not the oldest person in most races, but I am getting up there. Getting more podiums is nice, but it’s a matter of staying power now, not necessarily getting faster.

I’ve tried to mix it up, with trail races and new places, including a race in a predominantly Spanish-speaking city (the race directions were given in Spanish, but it turns out my high school Spanish was decent enough to understand them). It’s a different experience, but the running community is pretty much the same nice people no matter where you are. I am going back next month, with plans to stop at a Venezuelan bakery near the race venue. A race next week will include a post-race stop at a coffeehouse I learned about at a trail race yesterday. Swim meet in two weeks? A stagger through a family-owned gourmet grocery market that is packed with delicacies from every country (note to self: bring an extra cooler that weekend). A destination wedding in October will include hill trails and food stops. I made up these two lists right after I made my hotel reservation. It’s a great idea to pair doing what you love with something else you love; in my case, competing and good, new food and beverages. It’s not a kill-two-birds-with-one-stone type of thing. It’s more about greater enjoyment of the moment.

I have been thinking about taking this pairing to a new level and doing this with pictures. I always said I’d never use my phone for stuff like this, but I may reconsider because it’s a fun idea, not because of fame, money, or influencer points to be scored.

I’ll take a notepad along at my coffeehouse stop next week and see how this goes.

I Don’t Exactly Hate The Holidays

But I admit to being tired of some aspects of them at this point,

Please take your pumpkin spice everything and do unspeakable things with it.

Christmas music starting in November? There is only so much Bing, Burl, and Mariah a person can handle.

Christmas music part 2: turn down the level in retail stores. I don’t need it blaring at an aircraft engine decibel level to get into a shopping mood. If I am there, I am already doing it.

Christmas music, part 3: every local station turns to 24/7 holiday music at this point. All I can say is, thank goodness for podcasts and digital radio music service.

The food: I am actually fine with imaginative holiday food displays. Most of them, especially the upscale shops and grocery stores, do a good job with excellent products. It’s the miles and aisles of cheap tinned cookies, popcorn, trays of summer sausage and evil cheese, and boxes of bad chocolate (how hard is it to get good chocolate now?) that make me want to rage at the corny consumerism.

Gift ideas: I prefer to be asked what I want/need. I don’t need anything, but the want list always has some things on it, like a gift card for running, cycling, or swim gear, maybe one for Ulta (my version of the most fab female funhouse), a small kitchen appliance, or a paid trip to the salon for hair or nails. That’s it. I am not a lover of fine clothes, shoes, or jewelry. I have been seeing a lot of commercials and articles about high-end vacuum cleaners recently. Don’t even think about it. You will sleep with that if you buy it as a gift.

The whole “Merry Christmas” versus “Happy Holidays” conundrum: We’re still working on the politically correct thing here? People are dying in wars, running from bombs, and living without basic food, shelter, education, and jobs, and this is where we are? Enough already. I don’t care which one you use, as long as you mean it. I won’t get mad.

You’re in a hurry, but cut everyone some slack: Wait until people finish crossing in the crosswalk. Don’t blow through red lights. And that car horn is not a toy. Show your barista, grocery clerks, restaurant servers, dry cleaners, babysitters, and others who are there for you a little love and some money.

And show yourself some real love. Get vaccinated, sleep well, stay healthy, keep up the exercise, and the (mostly) good eating habits.

Sugar, Grease, Protein: The Post-Race Food Groups

It was hot out there today, even for a 5K. And that’s eight days after an 8K trail run.

Not a huge complaint. More of an observation, since this is acknowledged to be the hottest summer since anyone began maintaining meteorological records.

I am a pre-race creature of habit. I eat the same things, with minor variations, two days before a race (the variations take the type and length of the race into account). I avoid excess carbs, no desserts, no alcohol, no soft drinks, and go very easy on caffeine (don’t start the argument with me about caffeine-free tea and coffee. Not going there, not drinking any of it). I keep a 32-ounce water bottle on my desk and stay well-hydrated all day.

Post-race is a little different. I don’t care to eat for about an hour after the event. It’s as if my gut is still at a gallop on the course. But when I am ready, I want what I need. The big three for me are sugar, grease, and protein. Sugar for obvious reasons: I usually have a long drive home from most events. Sugar will keep me focused on the road and out of a ditch or opposing traffic lanes. Protein for repairing and rebuilding muscle tissue. And grease because it tastes good. I am being honest on that one. My favorite post-race snack? A sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit and iced tea. It checks all my depleted boxes: takes care of thirst and sugar, packs both grease and protein, and just enough carb for me. And don’t lecture me about this. It’s my cheat meal for the week.

This week, I made two half-gallon jars of something healthier: soup in a jar. Ramen noodles (minus the ramen packets), low-sodium chicken broth, bok choy, peas, carrots, green beans, onion, and mushrooms were all cooked until the vegetables still had some crunch and the noodles had some bite. I added some small chicken meatballs and leftover broccoli bits and let everything cool and then ladled it into the jars. Best thing to come off my stove in a long time. There’s no real recipe here, no proportions that matter. You can add or subtract whatever you like or have on hand. Go vegan and use vegetable stock and no meat at all (I don’t know if firm tofu would work in this, but I would certainly consider adding it to each portion as I reheat it, rather than all at once).

I rewarded myself post-race with new trail shoes and a real hydration belt. Here’s tp getting serious about this year!

Two Weeks And Counting Down…

The first race of the season is coming. September 2 and it’s a tough 8K trail run.

For me, it’s sort of like doing the Super Bowl first thing, and the other games after that seem easier. I did this race last year and wanted the challenge again. Oh, and the swag was awesome. Let’s face it, all swag is nice, but after a few hundred races, you get selective about swag.

It’s also fun to peruse the gear websites, looking at running tops, shorts, bras, socks, and shoes. Think about new gels, bars, tablets, water bottles, and hydration packs. Setting up a training schedule around a job, housework, yard work, spouses, and kids (got the spouse, but no kids here). There’s a lot to pick from this year. There are races on airport runways (closed for the race, of course), gravel and technical trails, beaches, roads, and bridges. There are charity runs, memorial runs, and runs themed to everything from coffee to cupcakes. And let’s not forget bike events, triathlons, and swim meets. Good thing my new medal holder has space for over 100 medals.

I have my September races in place: the trail run and one 5K along the beach and a 10K in a park, both for veterans charities. A swim meet in October (I am having a tough time picking races in October; there are a lot of good ones). Good racing in November (including a massive 10K that was memorable last year because I got so sick with a respiratory infection afterward). December has some smaller trail runs, and an oldie but goodie from my past: a local race that I did in its very first year but not since. It’s been through several changes in race management; I admit I am curious as to how it’s done now. It’s also a home race for me.

I’m always inspired at the start of a new race season because it is new: everything is fresh, untried, unfamiliar, and somewhat unknown. But I go to every event looking for additional motivation. That individual who looks like me, who probably hears what I hear (“You’re too fat/old/slow to be out here!”) but is out here anyway, doing this because this is who they are. Because you get used to turning off and tuning out the haters and wearing the blinders, not seeing or hearing those perfectly muscled, fit, and dressed competitors whose primary means of feeling good is making you feel bad. But a special note to the friendly women (trans and bio) wearing jewelry and makeup for a race: you go, dolls and queens. I can’t manage that, but y’all look fab.

See you at the starting line soon.

Injected With A New Lease On Life

I finally did it. After decades of nagging back and hip pain, I saw a neurosurgeon and a pain management specialist. And got an injection that literally hit me in the sacroiliac.

I did not even know I had such a body part, never mind knowing where it was or what it was for.

I can tell you that the steroid injection works. And that the cause of the pain is a wavy spine, better known as scoliosis. I was born with it, and my parents likely knew about it (I do remember a conversation between my mother and the pediatrician about the curve in my spine), but would not have been able to afford the fix for it back then.

At least I know for sure what it is, and that while it cannot be permanently repaired at this point, it can be treated. I’m not mad at my folks (they are both long deceased, so getting mad serves no purpose anyway) because overall, they did the best they could. And I am in far better shape than most of the patients I saw in my doctors’ offices — in wheelchairs, using canes, walkers, or other humans for assistance. I am still active and able to get up and move every day. The injection has helped my sleep (down to two pillows from five) and so far, all normal exercise seems to be fine.

I had so many races on hold: I had started an email folder for them, catching the reminders and storing them, waiting for treatment (would I need surgery? Would I be unsuitable for any type of treatment?), and wondering where I would be in September. Now I know and it’s time to fill in the calendar and fill up the new medal hanger. It holds over 100 medals. I need to get started. See you at the races.

More Than A Race: Now It’s Personal

The political tyrants and raving lunatics who think it’s their mission on Earth to tell people how to live their lives and only love certain people, dress a particular way and teach children their narrow-minded agenda with no thought given to reality, creativity, or individual rights of expression…I’ve had it with you.

Yes, this does have to do with a road race; trust me, I’m getting there.

A few months back, I signed up for a Pride 5K. It’s part of Pride Month festivities in a local city, and it was also a night race, which I had not done since my first race 40 years ago. It was also close by, so I figured it would be a good way to end the season. But did I know how much it would mean by the time the gun sounded?

My nephew came out this week. In front of TV cameras, at a school board meeting, doing what he does best; defending someone else, giving his voice to right a wrong caused by an ignoramus who thought it was just fine to impose their singular will on an entire school district. The horrible crime this person committed: the showing of a Disney film in class; a film this political peabrain had probably never seen and wouldn’t understand anyway, yet thought it was right to have an educator punished with the modern-day version of tar-and-feathers for showing it. For the record, the movie has an openly gay character in it; the teacher explained that it was not her reason for showing the film. She has since resigned and is one of 50 teachers in the district who left. The parent claimed the film was a form of indoctrination, and is facing serious backlash, with over 24,000 signatures on a petition to remove her from office.

I am proud of that young man. He will be one hell of an advocate for Pride Nation. I am afraid for him as a gay young man in a society that thinks it’s wrong to be who you are when who you are does not bother anyone else. I am afraid for him to be who he is when a so-called Christian nation tells him Jesus loves him but hates what he is. That makes no sense. How would any Bible-thumping, flag-waving, so-called God-fearing yahoo know if and how Jesus would and could discriminate? When did that conversation happen, and oh, by the way, did he have that meet-up with those dirty hands, eye-watering bad breath, and the T-shirt that reads, “Good, Bad, I’m The Guy With The Gun”?

Dearest nephew, I have your back. I will stand with Pride for you anytime. Fighting the demented denizens is everyone’s job. Because you never know who their next target will be.

Congrats, Cheapskate. You Made A Kid Cry And An Old Person Mad

I get that road races are hard to do. Not the running part. The management part. Being a race director or volunteer anything at a race can stink.

Trust me. As a runner, we mostly love you.

Unless you cheap out and screw people over when they’ve paid for the race and the swag that comes with it.

I did a race today where 850 medals were ordered when over 1,000 runners were pre-registered. And the late registrants were not restricted from getting a medal, to ensure those who registered timely received one.

I have hundreds of medals. This one was important. The race was run in my parents’ old hometown and on Memorial Day. I ran the race for my dad, who served in WWII in the Navy. At the finish line, there was no explanation for why the medals ran out, where you could request one (or if you could request one) to be mailed or picked up. It was as if “Oh, well, too bad for you. You weren’t among the fast people to get to the finish line, so we’re not dealing with this.” The race organizers just thumbed their noses at the very people who support their business.

When I went to timing to check my finish and try to find out where the race director was, a very nice man insisted I take his medal. No one had ever made me that kind of offer. But as someone who rarely gets a podium, I actually want these medals, and this one in particular.

Turns out, the medal had a better purpose.

When I left the timing table, still hell-bent on whacking the race director into next week, I spotted two teenagers: his arm around her, and she was crying. Turns out, he finished first and received a medal. She didn’t.

I looked at them and thought, “If I was her mom, there would be nothing I could do to fix this and make her feel better.” But I have a medal. And now she has it. They were both so appreciative; two of the nicest teenagers I have ever met. They give me a lot of hope for the good in young people.

I am posting this because sometimes a race means more than a medal, even to me. I am still a little gutted about the medal if I am being honest. But to see a kid cry is a real blow to my soul. So note to the race organizer, WildSide Online Inc.: you ruined the race for a lot of people, which is a crappy thing to do. I learned a lesson in humility, in the hometown where the people who raised me right used to live. Oh, and I am boycotting your races from now on. You’re going to cheapen the experience? Do it to someone else.

Old Body Parts: The Reality, And Hope For A Drag Show Of A Race

I was only half-kidding when I referred to being tired and having body bits give in and give up on me.

I am seeing a neurosurgeon in June. But not so much for something worn out. More like something built up. Just in the wrong place.

Calcification on my spine, to be exact. Good, strong bones are good. Calcium in your bones is good, especially as you get older. Calcium on your discs, pressing on your back and leg nerves…not so much.

It’s been a nagging issue for years now, but I’ve been able to grin and bear it, pill it, patch it, apply smelly roll-ons, and just medicate my way around it. It’s past that point. It needs a good scraping off. I am hoping I can have the arthroscopic version of the procedure and be back up and going as fast as possible.

The pre-surgery stuff is in the next three weeks, and my final race for the season is a night race in June. I have never done a night race, but it is a youth/elderly LGTBQ+ fundraiser, and given recent crackdowns, laws, and hate crimes, I am all for standing up for the community. Truthfully, I have been targeted at races. I am too old, fat, slow to be there. I’ve had parents goad their kids into taunting me. But never have I ever been anything but appreciated and thanked by the loud and proud rainbowed brigade. I am honestly hoping the drag community shows up at the race and really pisses off the politicians. Whether the queens can run in heels or not is up to them. I just hope they arrive in huge numbers and look fabulous.

It’s been an interesting season. I did my first ultra trail race (without knowing it was an ultra) and plan to do more of them. I am on the doorstep of a milestone birthday (and aging up to the next age group, in time for next week’s race). I finished a full year of kickboxing (which is helping everything I do). I completed my first national swim meet (not proud of the results, but we’ll call it a learning experience).

Looking forward to more (pain-free) years to come.

Land Of Lost Running Socks And Planning The Next Season (!)

My house is a shrine to single socks. For some reason, it’s the expensive running socks that seem to get separated from one another.

Never the cheap-o, ten-per-pack knock-around-the-house socks. Only the nice, padded ones.

Eventually, the missing sock does (usually) turn up, stuck to something else, courtesy of static cling. I had one sock, missing its mate for over two months, only for the said mate to show up stuck to a computer cleaning cloth that I had not used (because I have others, not because I was not wiping down my devices).

I can’t blame the cats for the missing socks, and I don’t have kids. The Husband does not do the laundry, so it’s on me to ensure the entire sock wardrobe is properly matched up. At the moment, all is well in my personal world of socks.

Speaking of running: I will go a month without a road race: April has three swim events, and there’s not much going on Easter weekend. I age up in May and have two events scheduled so far. Nothing for the summer (I normally don’t compete then; it is just too hot), but I am looking ahead to 2023-2024. I plan to do more trail runs (and practice on rougher trails to get better). It’s fun to look ahead at what’s coming and think about travel and new places; most of the upcoming trail runs are in cities I have never visited.

Trail racers are an interesting bunch. You get a broad representation of humanity at these events. There are the “trails and nothing but trails” runners, who think asphalt is for wheeled conveyances, not feet. You get people who run both and have always run both. Then there’s the group that I belong to, which started running trails during the pandemic when most road races were canceled. You notice the “fully loaded” folks, with water bottles and backpacks, energy bars, and gels, looking as if they are out to test their limits of survival. The “minimalists” are wearing and carrying as little as possible, traveling light to reduce weight and not produce waste. Bug spray is a common denominator, with sunblock a close second. It’s a varied and very accepting community; more interested in celebrating the conquest of the course, rather than how fast you finish.

Two months away from the end of the season, but five months from the start of the next one. It’s been interesting, and I cannot wait for what’s next.