My Sucky Saturday RUn

I'm a little cranky with my body today. I'm not annoyed by the fibroids - I can live with them and apparently have been for up to 18 years. No, the reason I'm annoyed is my sucky, awful run yesterday.

I've been really happy with how I've been running. It all seemed to be going nicely and I was coping well with 4 runs a week plus the strength training. I was feeling strong. But yesterday it sucked from the first k. My legs felt heavy and tired. I kept waiting for them to loosen up and run freely but it just never happened.

I'd decided before I left home that I'd like to run around 15k. I've been doing 12s for about two months now and I was ready to push it out a little. So I left the group at their 6k turn around and pushed on. Why do I do stupid things like that when I know I'm not feeling it.

So I just kept waiting to get a second wind - and it never came. Thank goodness I had a couple of squad friends with me and one was even kind enough to walk with me a couple of times. Thanks Kerry!

So when I got home I analysed what had happened, as all runners do when it doesn't go to plan. A - I'd had a bit of a stressful night with Josh on Thursday and was worried about his frame of mind. B - I'd had a test to find out if I had cancer on Friday and even though I'd tried not to stress about it, I was a little concerned. C - the test involved fasting for half of the day and then when I ate the only proper meal that I had was dinner. D - on Saturday when we started running the temperature was a balmy (stinky) 24C/75F degrees with a humidity of 85%

Conclusion - A + B + C + D = a sucky run.

I've had other bad runs after days where I've been stressed, or when I've had poor nutrition, or when it's just been really hot. So add all of these factors together and it's no wonder that it was BAD. So my response to this is that I'm resting today - no strength training. My legs are still feeling it and it would be counter-productive. Tomorrow I'll assess how I'm feeling and if I'm feeling ok I'll do a short run. The verdict's out on Tuesday's speed session. It'll be a matter of wait and see. If I have to I'll just take the whole week off. It's not what I'd planned so early in the year. But there are just some things you can't fight.

But on the brighter side, my friend Natalie is back from visiting her son in Denmark. Three hour coffee session yesterday!! It's so nice to have her around again.

My Ultrasound - rated TMI

Did anyone hear that? About an hour ago. The huge sigh of relief. And then another one about fifteen minutes later. I survived!! (and I didn't wet myself)

Before I actually start, can I please warn all readers that this post comes with a TMI rating. It delves into the parts of a female anatomy that can make a man squirm - either with discomfort or delight, depending on the circumstances. I have a scientific background and can broach these subjects with the clinical mind of a scientist. And I will be using scientific terms so stop me if you need clarification. (We all know what a uterus is, right? And a hoo-ha, which is sometimes known as a va jay jay) Children please leave the room now.

I woke this morning with a cold feeling of dread. Today was the day when there was great potential for public humiliation. Today was the day I was having my ultrasound. Last week my GP had decided that the pain in my pelvis that I'd casually mentioned at the end of my appointment, warranted further investigation. She was thinking ovarian cancer. I was thinking lactose intolerance causing a mighty build-up of flatus (see I said I'd use scientific terms). Turns out we were both wrong.

My instructions were to drink a litre of water an hour before the appointment after emptying my bladder and then holding on for dear life. As I explained yesterday, I've had three kids in the natural manner and some muscles aren't quite as efficient as they used to be. So I personally thought the fluid volume was a tad excessive and the length of holding time ridiculous. SO, in the interest of full disclosure, I CHEATED. I only drank 600ml. I drank it 40 mins before the appointment and I peed after drinking my first glass. But they don't know my bladder like I know my bladder and I was quite confident that it would be full in time.

I turned up at the appointment early and then sat waiting to be called and for that slightly uncomfortable feeling below. The receptionist asked me if I'd been drinking my water. I could happily say yes but I'm glad she didn't ask how much, when and if I'd been to the bathroom - I'm not a great liar.

They were running on time. Yay! But my bladder hadn't really filled much. Boo! And when the sonographer asked if my bladder was full I felt a little guilty. BUT it turned out to be full enough. Yay!!

The first thing he asked once we got going was how long had I had the fibroids? Fibroids?!! What fibroids?!! The last time I'd had an ultrasound on my pelvis was when I'd been pregnant with Luke so my best guess was somewhere between 1 and 18 years. Apparently my uterus is full of them. Some of them are impressively large. Yay me! But they were so impressively large that they were getting in the way of seeing the right ovary and that's why we were all here.

So I was offered a much more effective way of visualising the area - a trans-vaginal ultrasound. Again yay, lucky me. But this works best with a totally empty bladder and that's when you would have heard the first big sigh.

After getting back from the loo there was another person in the room - goody, I get an audience. I had had to change into a fetching black paper gown with a saucy back split so I was looking my most glamorous best. The sonographer explained the procedure and told me he'd be keeping his eyes on the screen and not watching my face. What for? Signs that I was enjoying myself? But he went on to say that it might get uncomfortable or painful and he wouldn't be able to tell unless I told him. And all I could think was that if it hurt he had to be doing it wrong (and I managed to keep my filter on here, Amanda, and not actually verbalise it).

It didn't hurt and I got to see my fibrotic uterus as the star attraction on the big screen. My right ovary was nice and normal. My left ovary was a little shy but we managed to find that slippery sucker and it too was normal. So we can say that generally there is nothing to worry about. Cue second big sigh.

Of course I had to google fibroids once I got home. I am nothing if not curious. Up to 50% of women my age will have fibroids and mostly they don't cause an issue. The pain I'm feeling (actually it's more discomfort than real pain) is likely to be that one of the fibroid's blood supply has been cut off and a part of the fibroid is necrosing. It's likely to go on for a couple of weeks and than disappear. So it's all good!!

And how did I deal with the stress pre-procedure? I put on my Yoga DVD and worked out. And it was really effective. It had me focused and relaxed and occupied when I would normally have been getting myself worked up. Another big Yay!!

Has anyone else undergone an embarrassing medical procedure? And how do you cope with the stress of anticipation?

The Joys of Grocery Shopping

Sometimes a simple expedition to get the groceries just doesn't run quite to plan. Sometimes it inspires letter-writing to the grocery store manager.

Dear Mr Woolworths

I was in your store today - as I am nearly every single day because I cannot manage to organise myself NOT to run out of something important - and it came to my attention that SOME staff are in dire need of training. I am not talking about the lovely ladies that scan my groceries and have a chat about the meaning of life and other frivolities. Neither am I talking about the part-time boys who have the creativity to pack tomatoes with the 5 litre container of laundry detergent - that's all good, I'd forgotten the can of crushed tomatoes so this one worked in my favour.

The staff I'm referring to are the shelf stackers. Their incompetence was drawn to my attention today over a series of incidents.

I really didn't pay much attention initially when I picked up the apple off the top of the pile and managed to set off a mini-avalanche. I managed to hide the bruising on the three apples that hit the floor so some sucker - oops, I mean valued customer may still purchase these and be none the wiser till they bite into them and then blame their spouse for the droppage.

I felt a little niggle of concern when I picked up two blocks of butter and a cascade of cholesterol hit me on the toe. Don't worry, I'm not planning on suing.

Alarm bells started to go off when I reached for a tub of custard and they started falling even before I'd touched anything. (I'm pretty sure I hadn't touched anything.) I'm just grateful that it hadn't been the tomato sauce which would have made the blood so much harder to find when that old lady slipped in it. (I can't vouch for her not suing - she may need the money for her hip replacement surgery)

I didn't even dare walk near the eggs. And now I'm having to force feed my two hens in the hope that they will lay the requisite two dozen that we need to survive the week. Have you ever tried to force feed a hen? They don't like it!

And while you're dealing with that matter could I also ask that you fix the security system that goes off randomly, unexpectedly and unnecessarily when I pass through it. I have an aversion to being patted down by strangers?

And could you please fix that trolley with the wonky wheel that I always manage to pick out?

Your faithful and loyal (maybe) customer

Charmaine

disclaimer - some of the events described above may have been exaggerated for effect and some may be totally fictitious.



I'd like to say that I'm generally not a clumsy person but today I was having a doosey! Everything I touched seemed to have an extra-strong gravitational pull. I'm thinking that maybe the 10k morning run may have made me a little tired. Needless to say I'll be walking into Woolworths a little sheepishly next time. (which will probably be tomorrow because I think I'll need eggs)

And could you all keep your fingers crossed for me tomorrow? I have to go for a pelvic ultrasound and this involves fasting for 6 hours and drinking a litre of water an hour before the procedure then holding on for dear life. I have had three children naturally and we all know what that can do to a girl's pelvic floor. I'm really hoping that they run on schedule - you can't keep a full bladder waiting surely?!

A Blank Page - Now What To Write...

We have a few pets - two dogs, a cockatiel and two chickens. They are a little bit of work (especially now that Nelson has hip problems which subsequently cause him toilet problems and he occasionally leaves us little gifts around the house) but they can also have some side benefits. Apart from the unconditional love that they provide and the companionship while exercising (before Nellie's hips went), they can be might good waste disposal systems and pre-wash rinses.

I've recently found out, though, that Iven is having some problems with me giving all the scraps to the pets. He was brought up in the 'waste not, want not' era where throwing away anything was pretty close to a mortal sin. Mouldy bread? No problems, just cut out the mould. Hard, dessicated cheese? Tastes better when it's rubbery. Weevils in the rolled oats? They're good protein.

I, however, was brought up studying science and food technology. I learnt all about the perils of mould and food poisoning and the importance of freshness for nutritional value. I still firmly believe that if a carrot is so soft that you can wrap it round your wrist, it probably doesn't have much in the way of vitamins and minerals left in it.

I've got a fairly firm rule as far as left-overs are concerned and it's, quite frankly a compromise to Iven's upbringing. I allow them to be consumed for up to seven days and then the chickens or dogs get them. Yes, I know that this is longer than recommended BUT the scientists who made the recommendations never lived with my husband.

On Christmas Eve Iven and I had our weekly takeaway meal of fish and chips and the store owners, wanting to reduce their stock, gave Iven two tubs of potato salad. Now it doesn't matter that our fridge was full and we would be eating Christmas left-overs for at least a week, but Iven couldn't resist free food. I had to totally rearrange the fridge to cram them in. After a week there was still a full tub left so I gave it to the chickens.

"Where's that potato salad?" asked Iven the next day.

You should have seen his face when I told them that the hens had feasted on it. Horror, disappointment, a little hatred all flashed up in front of me. And at that moment I knew exactly what I would be putting on his headstone.

I TOLD YOU NOT TO EAT IT!!

In searching for a suitable pic for this blog I came across another that I loved and really wanted to share.



I know that I've made a huge presumption that I will be last to go and therefore will have all the poetic license that I need. But I am 10 years younger, a woman and I try to look after myself. So statistically I should outlive Iven but on the off-chance that I go first I've taken the liberty to compose my own headstone.

Here Lies
Charmaine Donaldson
Beloved wife, mother and awesome cupcake baker
In fact - so multi-talented, it makes you sick

I TOLD YOU THAT ALL THAT EXERCISE WOULD KILL YOU!

And speaking of exercise (don't you love the subtle segue?!) - the new year has started really well. So far this week - one strength session plus stretching, a 15k run (I didn't have my program yet - who knew Coach Chris would only give me 10), a speed session (6 X 800 and 1 X 200 just for fun) followed by 50 mins of yoga and a stretching session. And I'm feeling great!!

What would you like on your headstone?

New Years 2012

Woohoo! Happy New Year!! I'm already over 12 hours into 2012 and what have I done so far?

- Totally missed the start of it cause I was asleep. Boy do I know how to party!! I had half a glass of apple and pear cider, watched a lame movie with Iven (I liked it but he thought it was lame), ate Christmas chocolate till I felt a bit ill then went to bed with a good book. I did get a party invite but Iven's not much into partying and I didn't want him to see the new year in by himself ... and then I go and fall asleep and he saw it in by himself anyway. But he was kind enough to give me a re-enactment this morning which involved him making rowdy crowd noises, counting down and then exploding!

- I changed every calendar in my house. Best to start the year on the right note and that involves having some idea of what year and date it is. I like to do this just in case I'm involved in an accident and I'm taken to hospital and they ask me where I am and what date it is. My sense of direction is pretty poor so I'll probably get that one wrong (unless they're satisfied with a generic 'in the hospital' answer). At least if I get the date right I'll have a good chance of not having a hole drilled into my brain.

- I've cleaned up my lounge room. Dusted and vacuumed away all traces of that huge party Iven and I had last night so the boys don't get the wrong idea. (All right - the real reason is because I don't have my cleaning lady for a couple of weeks and the dog hair was building up at such a prodigious rate that I was being mistaken for Bonobo every time I did my stretches or yoga. And I'm pretty sure I may have a fur ball)

- I had my first coffee of 2012. Unfortunately we could only find McDonalds open at our local shopping centre but beggars can't be choosers.

- I made some flowers for all the birthday cakes that the new year will bring. This is so much fun. It reminds me of being back in kindy and cutting out shapes with Play-Doh. But these flowers taste way better than the Play-Doh ones used to.



And the finished product on a a cupcake - Pretty!!



- I've done my strength session. I can do two sets of 25 pushups now - FROM MY TOES. You might not be impressed but considering I could hardly do 10 in a row. I have very long arms and long levers don't make for strong levers. (it's a physics thing) Some boys may have compared my arms to a chimp's when I was a teenager and thus I feel a strong affinity to Bonobos. My planks have doubled in length and my power step ups are a thing of beauty (at least I'm not losing balance or wetting myself when I do them any more)

Did I make any New Year's Resolutions? Not really. I'll be just doing more of the same. Tweaking things here and there to make things work better for me. Have I planned much for the running year ahead? Again, not really. A lot will depend on how I'm feeling physically. In a general sense I want to run four times a week, strength train twice and throw in some yoga at least three times a week. With my running I'd like to get my mileage back up around the 50-55k per week but as far as events are concerned, I'm just going to see what takes my fancy as the year rolls on.

Has anyone made any major resolutions for 2012? And did anyone party harder than Ive and myself?

Seeing Double

I don't know if it's traditional around where you live, but in Australia (except in South Australia because of antiquated trading laws) there's a little thing that happens the day after Christmas - the Boxing Day sales. It's for all of those who thought they hadn't shopped quite enough before Christmas or wanted to pick up a few extra things for themselves or even wanted to start on next year's Christmas list.

I am not a regular attendee at this ritual of materialistic gluttony. The crowds freak me out and there's usually nothing that I can think of to buy. But I do have to make at least one trip during the post-Christmas week to exchange gifts. This is a chore that I despise. It makes me feel like a nasty, ungrateful bi*@h but there's something I hate even worse than exchanging gifts - waste.

This year I had three things that I had to take back - two singlets and a book. The singlets had to go back because they didn't fit and the book went back because it wasn't something that I'd read. I'd hinted a few times to Iven about a book that I had really wanted. I'd refrained from buying it in the weeks leading up to Christmas because I was sure he'd gotten the hint. But Christmas came and went without the book so I knew what I'd be swapping the other book for.

So after the first day of the sales was over I braved the shopping centre. It was actually really quiet - no queues. I went to the book shop and exchanged books (and bought an extra because this is the one area in my life, apart from running, that I don't deny myself).

That evening I was telling Iven about my day and what I'd exchanged the book for and he looked very quizzical.

'Which book did you get' he demanded to know.

'The new Evanovich book. You know, the one I pointed out to you in the shops'

'But I gave you that for Christmas' He was really confused now. And he wasn't the only one.

'No you didn't. I got one book and that's the one I returned.'

He rushed out of the room and went into his wardrobe, fossicked around for a while and returned with ...

... the same Janet Evanovich book that he'd bought and wrapped and FORGOTTEN TO GIVE ME.



Doh!! Now I have to go back to the book store. I think the ladies there are going to enjoy this story.

And on a running note - I've had another good running week despite it being Christmas week. 10k on Christmas Day, 13k yesterday and a monster hour and a half speed session on Tuesday. I'll wrap it up with a 12k tomorrow. We're still not doing anything really long yet.

Tuesday's speed session was one of the toughest I've done. It was a public holiday so Coach Chris took the opportunity to have a longer set. We did a ladder - 400m, 800m, 1200m, 1600, 2k, then working down again. And on top of longer reps we had one of our hottest mornings - 26C apparent temperature, with a humidity of 92%. It was not a morning for super-fast running - just surviving. And I did. Just!!

I've also done my two sessions of strength work and I swear my drop jumps are getting better. These exercises involve dropping off a height and immediately doing a standing long jump. I drop from the coffee table (thank goodness it's sturdy) and I'm now getting a third of the way along the piano instead of just the beginning. I'm jumping at least an octave further! Chopin would have been so proud of me.

A Boxing Day Conversation

Just wanted to share a little of last night's round-the-table dinner conversation.

I'll pre-empt it by telling you a little about my Mother first. My Mother is a lady. She's a devout Christian lady who has never sworn and frowns upon smut. She tried incredibly hard to bring up her daughters to be ladies but we just didn't quite make the grade. I blame my years doing veterinary science. When you're surrounded by blood and faeces and pus, and you have your arm up a horse's ar#@ - ooops, I mean posterior - it's hard to be ladylike.

We were at Mum's last night having Christmas left-overs when the conversation turned to the lovely bagels that I'd baked. I happily took the accolades before telling all assembled that Sam did some of the bagel kneading whilst wearing his birthday suit.

Sam took offence to this. His mother (me) was wrong again (as I frequently am apparently. He thinks it's early onset dementia. I know I'm perfectly normal but God is paying me back for all the times I laughed at my forgetful Aunt).

Anyway I realised that I was wrong (but don't book that room in the nursing home yet, Sam. The fact that I remembered eventually is encouraging) He wasn't naked during the kneading phase - he was naked when we were rolling out the snakes.

Poor Mum couldn't help herself. She tried to suppress a smile but her ladylike smutty mind got the better of her. But when my sister said she was relieved to find out that he wasn't naked during the hole-making phase, Mum just had to laugh.

So once again I have to apologise to you Mum for corrupting you. First it was Words With Friends (remember the wanker and porn incident?) and now it's smutty dinner-time conversation. I'll try harder - I promise!


PS Photos have been removed from this post for the sake of common decency. But I have included a video of Sam juggling his balls. (Too crass? It's hard to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.)