Archives for August 2010

BlogHer 5K: We Came, We Put on Tutus, We Ran!

At BlogHer09, there was a 5K that I fully intended to run. I had the best intentions, but after about 5 minutes of running I slowed to a walk. I tried a couple more intervals of running, but none lasted even 3 minutes. I simply wasn’t in good enough shape to run the full course yet. (But I did complete it by walking!)

So when the BlogHer10 5K was announced, I knew I had to do better this time. I started training for Couch to 5K again (remember, as of BlogHer I was only starting week 7!) and vowed that while it may be too soon to run a full 5K, I was going to run more than walk this year.

To further add purpose to the run, it was announced that the 5K would be partnering with Tutus for Tanner. I continued training while picking out the perfect tulle to make my tutu.

And then last Tuesday came, and I packed my Brooks running shoes, tutu, and princess Bondi Band (great sweat band!) into my suitcase for New York. I was nervous, wondering if everyone would pass me by in the run. I specifically signed up for the earliest time slot – both to get it over with before it got too hot, and to make sure I wasn’t the last person dragging my sorry butt across the finish line. I had at least 45 minutes over the final group of runners.

Thursday night of BlogHer was filled with parties, and I wore my stunning black & white dress and heels. What I didn’t count on was that my comfy heels wouldn’t be so comfy this year, and when I got back to my hotel room I discovered that the tops of both little toes were nothing but giant blisters. Worse: I discovered this when I dragged my foot across the carpet and tore one of them open. Ouch.

I woke early on Friday morning – 5K day – feeling dry mouthed, underslept and sore. As I swung my legs out of bed and placed my feet on the floor, I knew the pain was coming before I even put any weight on my feet. And oh how it hurt when I stood! My roommate Amelia suggested that running may not be the best option for me with feet like that, and I understood her concern. These feet were in no condition to run.

But I guzzled half a Pepsi Max, ate a zucchini muffin and took some pain meds to dull the sensation as I wrapped two bandaids around my little toes. I winced as I pulled on my running shoes, limping across the room to fetch my tutu. I didn’t come all this way to not run. Pain be damned, I was going to do this.

Hobbling down to the lobby, I met up with the other early morning runners, also outfitted in their tutus. We got a map of our path through Central Park, posed for a few photos, and then walked outside to begin our journey.

Jenna & me, ready to run
(Photo credit: Jenna Hatfield)

I was expecting a 5 minute walk to warm-up, like I usually do. But when we crossed our first street, Jenna said, “Let’s go!” and started jogging. I had a momentary pause, as I’m sure my eyes bugged out of my head, but then with a small hop I shifted into a slow jog. My feet screamed in agony, but I just turned up my music to tune them out.

As we reached the edge of Central Park, we paused momentarily to check the map. Once we were certain we knew the way, we were back to running. The park was blissfully shaded, although no amount of cover could block out the humidity as we made our way through the soupy air, our tutus gracefully flowing around us.

Our pack ran on the sidewalk until we came to a point in the road where the sidewalk disappeared. We paused again – this time for about 2 minutes – as we tried to get our bearings and determine which way was the right way to go. Comparing the map with the iPhone GPS, we decided that turning left was the correct path, forcing us to now merge with the (surprising number of) runners and bikers on the road.

I somehow thought the bike lane was supposed to be reserved for those on bicycles, but it seemed that the runners had control of this lane while the bikes shared the road with cars. I was a little nervous of joining other runners in the lane. After all – I wasn’t a runner, right? I was just pretending to be one for a day, wearing my sparkly tutu and faking my best smile as I huffed down the road.

We were somewhere around mile 1 at this point. My feet no longer ached. I had reached that lovely state of numb that I seek out when I run, and I settled into keeping that state by distracting myself with anything around me. Jenna and I compared our running music – showtunes at the moment for her, Lady Gaga for me. We waved as cyclists sped past, yelling “Looking good!” at us. Police officers and tourists gawked at the parade of tutus running past them.

My pack – Jenna, Kari (yes, the woman who runs half marathons!!), and Nicole – all stayed with me despite my slow pace. As we reached a hill, I was finally forced to walk for a minute, and everyone was kind enough to slow and walk with me. My neighborhood at home is fairly flat – hills were a new challenge for me. I had to walk again during a second hill. But we kept motivating each other and our running pace would soon resume as we continued through the park.

Eventually other tutus caught up with us (I said I was slow), and our pack grew in number as we reached the edge of Central Park again. I was dripping in sweat, breathing hard, and totally ready for my cool down walk. But as we crossed the street to the first city block, the pack again took off. I refused to be left behind, so I reached way down into my mental reserve and vowed to keep going. I’ve never been so thankful for red lights in my life as I gasped for breath while waiting for the light to change to cross the street.

And then – just like that – we were at the hotel again and it was over. Carmen was there to greet us as we went upstairs to the BlogHer 5K breakfast, and it felt a little odd that it was already over.

BlogHer 5K breakfast, post-run -see how we glisten?
(Photo credit: Shannon Entin)

I didn’t run the entire 5K, but aside from a couple of walk breaks, I ran most of it. And that totally rocks. Not only did I run the majority of a 5K, proving that my body CAN change and adapt, I also helped bring awareness to an important cause, and I developed a closer bond with my running mates.

I want to thank Jenna, Kari and Nicole for keeping me going as we ran through Central Park. Peer pressure may not be the best motivator, but because all of you were still running, you made me want to keep running. And I want to thank my roomie, Amelia, who had to walk most of the 5K due to being very, very sick (and probably shouldn’t have even walked), because even though she felt miserable, she showed amazing determination to go through with it anyway.

Next year? Oh yeah, I’m running the entire 5K for sure.

(Full disclosure: Other than the 5K breakfast, sponsored by Pepsi Co, any product mentioned here was purchased by me at full price because I’m lousy at finding a good sale.)



I’m Surprised I’m Not Still in Buffalo, NY

So yeah.

BlogHer.

These recaps are always hard to write. So let me start from the end of my trip and work my way to the beginning.

I’m thankful I got home at all.

My 13 hour train ride home from BlogHer and New York City started fine. It was crowded, and my cell signal was poor as usual, but Heather and I settled in for our long ride, not expecting any hiccups. I planned my next day, expecting to stop in to work to finish a report before going home to unpack and rest. After all, the train was supposed to drop us off around 4am – plenty of time to get the morning report done for work and still enjoy a full day off.

And then we hit Buffalo, NY.

It even looks like a horror movie, doesn’t it?

At this point it was close to midnight, and I had been drifting between awake and wanting to sleep. Turns out, I don’t sleep well on trains. Or cars. Or anything taking me from one place to another. After about thirty minutes, I started to notice that we had not moved in awhile, and found this to be a little odd. A full thirty minutes after that, an Amtrak employee appeared to tell us that there was a freight train derailment in Ohio, and so at the moment we were stuck there until they could find a way to get us around it.

Yep, no contingency plan on their part. For a train that runs on a track with freight trains, they have no contingency plans in place in case a train, oh, goes off its track. Because that never happens, right?

I forgot to mention that our train car must have been a meat locker in another life, because even with long pants, socks and a fleece blanket, I was still freezing. So I took the opportunity to get off the train at the station to bask in the warm, soupy night air of Buffalo. When I asked an employee how long this would take, he shrugged his shoulders and told me he didn’t know, and it would likely take at least four hours or so.

Four hours to get moving again. I should point out that Cleveland wasn’t quite a four hour drive from that station. I could drive home faster than Amtrak could get me there.

At that point I was exhausted and losing my cool. I didn’t want to be stranded in Buffalo all night, so I asked the station employee to find me a rental car. It would cost more, but at least I’d be home sooner. He laughed at me. And then told me, “It’s Sunday and it’s after midnight [which actually means it’s Monday, buddy] – you can’t get that here!”

Trying to come to terms with being stranded without any other transportation, I then had to choke back anger when they announced they were getting several taxis to transport those going to Erie, PA. You can find a taxi at 2am, but you can’t get me a rental car?

Heather had more calmly accepted our fate, but really didn’t want to go back into the icebox. She didn’t bring a blanket, and her sweater just wasn’t enough to keep warm. She asked an employee if they could warm up the car, and he told her the A/C had two settings – on or off – and it got hot and smelly in there quickly if they turned it off. She tried to plead that it was way too cold, but his only reply was, “Some people would kill for this kind of cold!”

Uh, I think he was missing the point.

She then asked for a blanket, and this turned into another fiasco. First we were told there were no blankets available because people had stolen them all 15 years ago. When asked about the souvenir blankets for sale in the Cafe car, she was told that the woman with the keys was sleeping and they wouldn’t wake her up.

(At this point I should also mention that we had no access to anything but vending machines in the station for food/drink, while the Amtrak employees ordered out for pizza and ate it in front of us. Stay classy, Amtrak!)

Heather became very angry about the blanket situation, all while we tweeted the events as they happened. They seemed to be getting nervous by our social media ranting, and finally an employee said he had a solution and led Heather back to the dining car. She emerged with several small disposable paper tablecloths for us to use as blankets. Thin paper tablecloths that smelled like fry grease, to be exact. It would take two tablecloths to provide enough coverage for one person. Ick.

Then everyone going to the stop after Erie (not us – we were the stop after that one) was gathered and told they would be taken to their station aboard a chartered bus. Their belongings were pulled off the train and they quickly left on their chartered bus. Again, you can get a taxi at 2am and a chartered bus at 3:30am, but you can’t find me a rental car?

Sometime close to 5am, we finally were loaded back into the train and on our way. Pure exhaustion hit at this point, and I achieved the impossible dream of a little sleep, gathered in 10 minute increments here and there.

As we hit hour 19 of our 13-hour Amtrak trip, we knew we were getting close to the station. But we didn’t get much warning. Two minutes before the train stopped, an Amtrak employee came to us and told us our stop was coming and to get our stuff together quickly. Two minutes.

I walked to the back of the car to retrieve my large suitcase, only to see the employee grabbing all of our other stuff and getting it up to the door as fast as possible. I stopped back at my seat to make sure I didn’t forget anything, but another employee came up from behind, took my large suitcase from me, and started to gently push me towards the door, telling me I needed to go. I wondered if they were going to throw us off while the train was still moving?

The train came to a stop and a second later the door flew open and we were hustled off the train. For keeping us on there so long, they certainly were in a rush to get rid of us in the end! Of course, my journey wasn’t over yet, as I still had a two hour drive to get back to Columbus. It was after 2pm by the time I finally reached my house.

This was my first Amtrak experience, and honestly it has made me rethink my fear of flying. The trip there wasn’t as bad, although the bathrooms were in such miserable shape that I learned I could hold my breath, pee, and wash my hands in under 60 seconds. But 19 hours on a train was unbearable. I realized at one point that I could have driven from New York to Ohio, then back to New York again in the time I spent on the train. And even had time to stop for a few meals, too.

I wanted to like traveling by train, but I don’t know if I’ll ever do it again. I traveled by train all the time when I spent a summer in England and I loved the experience, but the American version leaves a lot to be desired.

Next up: I really will write about BlogHer. It’s always hard to write about it when you’re still processing such an incredible conference, but I will give you my shortest summary as a teaser: it was better than BlogHer 09.



Some Book Titles Need No Explanation

…and then there’s a book like this one.

Discuss.



See You At BlogHer!

So I’m leaving tonight for the BlogHer conference in New York, and as I look over the suitcase full of clothes, I’m pretty happy with what I’m seeing. Two dresses that I absolutely love. Jeans that fit well and – just as importantly – I look good in. Lots of comfortable shoes and soft, easy-fitting tops.

Since last year’s BlogHer, I’ve lost about 10 pounds – most of it in the last few weeks. I’ve taken 2 full inches off my hips and an inch and a half off my waist. I’ve lost 3% of body fat in the past 3 weeks. A combination of running and eating better have made all the difference.

Years ago, I worried about how people would view me. Now? I’m not that concerned. I’m dressing for comfort and my own personal fulfillment. I didn’t get my hair cut or colored (mostly because I had to spend $110 for my daughter’s doctor’s visit), and while I did buy some new clothing, I plan to get a lot of use out of each item beyond the conference.

And I’m running the BlogHer 5K this year. Last year I participated as well, but walked more than I ran. This year I plan to run more than I walk. I’m going to find a steady pace with some of my running friends, and then focus on putting one foot in front of the other until the end.

I’m really looking forward to this year’s conference. I’ve worked hard to look and feel good about myself, and I’m going to enjoy the results of that work. If you’re also coming to BlogHer, be sure to say hi sometime this weekend!



The Doctor’s Bill Hurts More Than The Shot

Being without health insurance at the moment, we’ve put off a lot of routine care because we simply can’t afford the bills. Vaccination boosters can wait, yearly check-ups can be put off, and if anyone gets sick, I can put my Super Mom-RN skills to use to determine if a trip to the doctor is really necessary.

But when the school sends home a form requiring a medical professional to sign off that your child has had a physical in the past year and is healthy enough to attend school – and said child can’t attend school without this signature – then you have to bite the bullet and make an appointment.

Mira had her doctor’s visit yesterday, what would have been her three-year-old well-child visit, now more like her three-and-a-few-months well-child visit. Her doctor is actually a nurse practitioner (yay for supporting my fellow nurses!), and Mira spent all morning excited about going to the “dot-torz oh-hice!” Or at least she was excited until we got there and the nurse asked her to take off her shoes to be weighed. Then the wailing started.

Thankfully, the tears stopped when the nurse practitioner came into the room. Our NP is very friendly and outgoing, and Mira quickly recovered herself and became the show-off ham she’s known for. The NP pointed out that Mira is continuing the tradition of Amazon warrior princesses in our household – 95th percentile for height – no surprise there. If she continues on this growth curve, she’ll likely be 5’8″ or taller as an adult.

There were no surprises at this visit. Mira still has speech apraxia. We knew that and she’ll be getting therapy through the school in the fall. She has sensitive skin and a sensitive tummy, which we’ve been aware of since birth. She has a persistent junky cough that is likely just allergies as her chest is clear – the NP’s stethoscope findings matched my own from home. She’s bright, overflowing with energy, and completely healthy with no serious medical concerns whatsoever. And that’s essentially what was noted on the paper required for school admittance.

In other words, we didn’t need the NP to tell us any of this. We just needed her signature.

And then we paid $110 for that signature and 15 minutes of time that only confirmed what we already knew.

Ouch.

I think my checkbook needs a band-aid and a Thomas the Tank Engine sticker now.

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