Thank God for Tracy, who got me out of bed this morning in spite of my 2:30am bedtime followed by a yet another horrible bout of insomnia. Carol from Tranquil Space studios came to Lululemon for a vigorous 1hr Sunday morning 'wake-up ' yoga session followed by a free brunch in the store. My kind of Sunday morning!
The run which followed was brief, and involved retrieving Tracy's lone glove from the middle of the intersection of L and Connecticut Avenue, then some brisk walking through the farmer's market in Dupont---yum! Pink Ladies and Cameo apples; shrimp empanadas, quark spread on artisan bread, cider......samples abound. "Running" is fun! I did get to try out my cold weather Under Armour top from Dad---just wearing it and tights with a hat and running gloves was enough to keep me warm all through Dupont and back home again. Yay!
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Cherry Blossom 10 Miler 2009 (or bust)!
As most of you know I started running in November, and I'm taking this thing pretty seriously:)
I'm participating in the Credit Union Cherry Blossom Ten Mile Run 2009. In order to qualify for the race, I have to run under a certain time, AND I need to raise $500 by March 1st for the Children's Miracle Network to join the team. Please help me and this wonderful cause by clicking the link below to donate....even $5 or $10 would be appreciated because it all adds up! THANK YOU!
You can help support me by making a secure online donation to Children's Miracle Network using your credit card. Click on the link below:
http://my.e2rm.com/personalPage.aspx?SID=2029573
Children's Miracle Network is a non-profit organization dedicated to saving and improving the lives of children by raising funds for children's hospitals. Each year the 170 Children's Miracle Network hospitals provide the finest medical care, life-saving research and preventative education to help millions of kids overcome diseases and injuries of every kind. To learn more go to www.childrensmiraclenetwork.org .
I'm participating in the Credit Union Cherry Blossom Ten Mile Run 2009. In order to qualify for the race, I have to run under a certain time, AND I need to raise $500 by March 1st for the Children's Miracle Network to join the team. Please help me and this wonderful cause by clicking the link below to donate....even $5 or $10 would be appreciated because it all adds up! THANK YOU!
You can help support me by making a secure online donation to Children's Miracle Network using your credit card. Click on the link below:
http://my.e2rm.com/
Children's Miracle Network is a non-profit organization dedicated to saving and improving the lives of children by raising funds for children's hospitals. Each year the 170 Children's Miracle Network hospitals provide the finest medical care, life-saving research and preventative education to help millions of kids overcome diseases and injuries of every kind. To learn more go to www.childrensmiraclenetwork.
Mid December Run
Today was a great run--a quick and easy 3.5miles through the streets of Dupont, up 18th through Adams Morgan and back down Columbia to Connecticut and West Dupont ending up at 21st and L for a hot steaming bowl of pork pho. Yum!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Inflexible!
Subject title perhaps a metaphor for something else? Had a hour of "Runners Yoga" yesterday morning at Lululemon and much to my chagrin, had some difficulty touching toes and staying put without a knee bend. Arm strength is great for the Cobras, abs are working on the Baby Cobras, but goddamn if I couldn't do a simple stretch.....my hamstrings are tight as a drum. Boo!
In other "yay" news.....Lululemon rewarded the die-hard early am Sunday yoga attendees with 30 percent off and I was *finally* able to afford running gloves and tights---both already on sale and then the additional mark-down. Yippee!
When's the next run? Wednesday!
In other "yay" news.....Lululemon rewarded the die-hard early am Sunday yoga attendees with 30 percent off and I was *finally* able to afford running gloves and tights---both already on sale and then the additional mark-down. Yippee!
When's the next run? Wednesday!
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Back on the Wagon!
It had been almost a full 3 weeks since my last run and yesterday I broke the seal, running 4 miles in the snow. It was a beautiful, if not wet and cold run. T and I jogged down to the National Mall and stopped off at the Christmas tree, now lit, and saw the individual trees of each state and territory. Tourists, flustered by the snow, were few in number and made navigating our run even easier and. despite the darkness, the twinkling of the Christmas lights and boughs of holly on the threshold of the buildings was comforting in our wake. Today, despite being Sunday, is early morning yoga where I can get a good stretch in post-run. I can't wait for those winter running tights to come!! I ran in thermal underwear with sweatpants over them yesterday and felt like the Michelin man straight outta Ghostbusters. Off to switch the laundry.....and then "Om".....
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Oh Holy Sh*tballs....
This has been one heck of a week, and sadly, it did not involve any running. Last Friday I woke up feeling achy and clammy and kind of ick and decided not to share whatever was incubating in me with the rest of my very small office. Little did I know what a brilliant exercise in foresight this would turn out to be. Follow me, dear reader, although the proceeding account is NOT for the faint of heart or those who fear things icky, sticky or otherwise sanginous. This will be nasty.
Last weekend, uneventful, was spent resting mostly, in an internet cafe, catching up on work and sipping tea. By Sunday I was feeling better and even felt silly for 'taking it so easy'. I played in my soccer game, did laundry, lived the Sunday life. I remarked to several girlfriends how achy I felt and lamented being what I perceived to be so out of shape. I hadn't felt sore after a soccer game in months and certainly had not been running excessively, so, um, what was the deal here?
The deal: a nasty bacterial infection festering in my throat, wreaking havoc on my immune system, making WBC's like crazy, giving me body aches and pains and, ultimately, a fever of 103 degrees. I woke up around 4:00am Sunday/Monday morning drenched in sweat--so much so that you could wring out my pajama top. The sheets were off the bed, fitted, flat, you name it. Just me, sweaty, feeling trippy, and a foam mattress. Not good. I got up for some water and fell back into swirly sleep and woke up soaked again at 6am and emailed the office and vowed to go to the doctor. I proceeded to hallucinate my way over to my primary care doctor's office and saw not my regular GP, but someone else, who predicted strep throat and sent me home with a pat on the head and a script for Amoxicillin. By the time I got home I barely knew who I was and fell into a deep sleep. I woke up sweaty and disoriented and called a friend and left what I'm sure was a message of impending death: "Hi, It's Jen. I'm sick, please help" or somesuch. Thank God for Adriana, who came by after work with soups and went and filled my prescription for me. In the time it took her to go across the street, I was unconscious again and tripping. She made me the soup, implored me to eat it, and would check-in the folllowing day. I fell asleep.
Tuesday morning: I awoke several times in the night, changed pj's, tried to sip water, succummed to slumber, rinse, wash, repeat......up finally and I feel like death. I now can't swallow at all without great difficulty and searing pain, still have a fever, and am having trouble breathing. Oh, and did I mention the 'secretions'? They're awesome. Since I could not swallow, everything came up and out. Even just normal "hanging out in your mouth spit" had to go somewhere. I went through two jumbo boxes of tissues. I made teas, teasanes, emergen-C waters, lotions, potions, baths, salt-gargles, you name it, I tried it OTC. This must be strep throat on steroids! I call the GP toreport the changes in my symptoms and to see if I can come back, she says get yourself to the ER. Happy Veteran's Day!
I ended up at Bethesda Suburban, on steroids, oddly enough, and a panoply of intervenous antibiotics with fluids. A Cat Scan of my neck with contrast revealed the culprit: a peritonsillar abscess. Ew! WTF? From whence did this sucker come? Which heinious sins did I commit, ahem, specifically, so I can be sure to avoid them in the future? (Turns out----wait for it----you can get this box o' nasty just from opening a door. Yup. Makes you want to be a germaphobe, doesn't it? Thought so.) Six hours of good medicine later, the ER doctor on call comes into my curtained-off area (it ain't a room, people, it's a closet with a biohazard bin, an adjustable cot, and a shower-curtain cordoning off the area; Tres utilitarian.) and announced that I should not move, eat, or talk. Wha? But, I'm feeling better! I wanna go home! I LOVE steroids! They're fantastic! I can now swallow! My pain went from a 9 to a 4. This is a miracle---time for discharge! Time for dinner!!! (At this point, I had not eaten in over 48 hours). No, he says, we are transporting you to another hospital to see an ENT surgeon---you need surgery. Excuse me, I'm sorry, I thought you said surgery---that's funny, my ears must be clogged up still or something..... Yes, surgery. What hosptital do you want to go to? So, at 11pm, Jen gets bundled up in swaddling blankies, iv intact with 7 extensions, all meds hanging off the drip, and loaded into an ambulance and taken to GW.
Having fun yet? I sure was. Not. At. All. At GW there are real sick people. People who are dying and gonna die. Like tonight. There are people among me here who will most certainly face death and it's inevitable and it's freaking me out. I'm taked directly into a room, do not pass go, but instead I pass many gurneyed patients lying in the hallway, queued up like college kids staking out a concert venue the night before, except they are your Grandma and Grandpa and they are alone and probably cold and scared and this made me even more sad, except I was on drugs, so it was moribundly humorous, if that makes any sense at all. I saw a man on oxygen scratch at his ankle and look up at me, wide-eyed and quizzical. He looked friendly. And sick. Everybody here is sick! Get me out of here. This isn't the Bourgeois Bethesda hosptial my friends; I'm in the medical facility for the proleteriat now. From my room (and this time, it is an actual room, with a door, a surgical tray, lights, sink, scrub-in, biohazard, and cabinets of supplies, drawers of intruments...oh my GOD! Are they going to to cut my throat HERE? In this room, just inches away from the sick Grandpas? Don't they put you in a more sterile envirnoment? Shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shitballs. Ok, Van Ness, breathe, just breathe, it's cool, it's cool, it's cool. It'll be okay. And then I hear it: the scream. Feral, primal, agonizing----a man screaming in pain. And all of sudden, I am calm. Because I know that it is not me. Sounds horrible, doesn't it? But oh so true.
GW is backed-up like 66 during rush hour and so they send my a$s home with a script for a potent antibiotic and they make me promise I'll return the next morning to consult with the ENT surgeon. Funny thing is, it IS already the next morning. I get home around 130am. ENT examines me, the CAT scan, and says----I can lance this thing right now, open up. And. I. Freak. Wouldn't you? I mean, come ON? No anestetic? A knife? INSIDE my mouth hanging down my throat? Dude. You've got to be kidding. He says, we don't need to lance it. Come back after you've finished the course of antibiotics and we'll see if you want surgery to take out your tonsils. It's totally up to you. This, I like. My choice. My choice NOT to have an expensive, invasive, elective surgery. Exactly.
Somewhere between Wednesday and Friday I started to develop a whole 'nother mother of symptoms which involved a most uncomfortable tightness in my chest and shortness of breath. I felt like an old man as I padded about my tiny studio, making tea, shuffling about, clutching at my rube with one hand, opening the microwave with the other, sighing, catching my breath, making the tea, settling into the sofa, gently, gently....slowly...ahhhh. What the hell was happening to me? I looked down at my burgeoning belly; everything from the middle of my sternum down to my navel was convex! And hard. Distended, bloated grandpa belly. WTF?! So, I have.....gas? A trip to Whole Foods to replenish fluids and buy applesauce (soup was getting old by now, and plus, I didn't need to salt to bloat me any further...) One of the friendly WF folks pointed me in the direction of some homeopathic gas-relief and I forked over my $10 for some relief.
None came. :(
I was hospitalized yesterday wih pseudomembranous colitis, a severe intestinal condition which developed as a result of the heavy does of Clindamycin I've been taking for the damn peritonsillar abscess, which, by the way, I am convinced occurred de novo since my doctor's office called to inform me that I tested strep-negative. Interesting fact: apparently George Washington was believed to have died from a peritonsillar abscess. Thank God we live in the medically advanced times of 11 blades to surgically remove said abscesses.
The good news is: I am finally fever-free after 7 days, and the abscess appears to be completley gone. They flushed the Clinda in the hospital and gave me medicines to paralyze the esophagus and stomach to prevent the problem from getting any worse. I have to take a proton-pump inhibitor for a while until back to normal, but am otherwise alive and well, albieit a bit more on the tired side than usual. I am sad to be missing my soccer playoffs but oh-so grateful to be home, in bed, with a book (Nick Hornby) and a laptop. Let's hope this is the end of the road of sickness for me. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm looking forward to lacing-up my running shoes and getting out there to pound the pavement. Alive.
Last weekend, uneventful, was spent resting mostly, in an internet cafe, catching up on work and sipping tea. By Sunday I was feeling better and even felt silly for 'taking it so easy'. I played in my soccer game, did laundry, lived the Sunday life. I remarked to several girlfriends how achy I felt and lamented being what I perceived to be so out of shape. I hadn't felt sore after a soccer game in months and certainly had not been running excessively, so, um, what was the deal here?
The deal: a nasty bacterial infection festering in my throat, wreaking havoc on my immune system, making WBC's like crazy, giving me body aches and pains and, ultimately, a fever of 103 degrees. I woke up around 4:00am Sunday/Monday morning drenched in sweat--so much so that you could wring out my pajama top. The sheets were off the bed, fitted, flat, you name it. Just me, sweaty, feeling trippy, and a foam mattress. Not good. I got up for some water and fell back into swirly sleep and woke up soaked again at 6am and emailed the office and vowed to go to the doctor. I proceeded to hallucinate my way over to my primary care doctor's office and saw not my regular GP, but someone else, who predicted strep throat and sent me home with a pat on the head and a script for Amoxicillin. By the time I got home I barely knew who I was and fell into a deep sleep. I woke up sweaty and disoriented and called a friend and left what I'm sure was a message of impending death: "Hi, It's Jen. I'm sick, please help" or somesuch. Thank God for Adriana, who came by after work with soups and went and filled my prescription for me. In the time it took her to go across the street, I was unconscious again and tripping. She made me the soup, implored me to eat it, and would check-in the folllowing day. I fell asleep.
Tuesday morning: I awoke several times in the night, changed pj's, tried to sip water, succummed to slumber, rinse, wash, repeat......up finally and I feel like death. I now can't swallow at all without great difficulty and searing pain, still have a fever, and am having trouble breathing. Oh, and did I mention the 'secretions'? They're awesome. Since I could not swallow, everything came up and out. Even just normal "hanging out in your mouth spit" had to go somewhere. I went through two jumbo boxes of tissues. I made teas, teasanes, emergen-C waters, lotions, potions, baths, salt-gargles, you name it, I tried it OTC. This must be strep throat on steroids! I call the GP toreport the changes in my symptoms and to see if I can come back, she says get yourself to the ER. Happy Veteran's Day!
I ended up at Bethesda Suburban, on steroids, oddly enough, and a panoply of intervenous antibiotics with fluids. A Cat Scan of my neck with contrast revealed the culprit: a peritonsillar abscess. Ew! WTF? From whence did this sucker come? Which heinious sins did I commit, ahem, specifically, so I can be sure to avoid them in the future? (Turns out----wait for it----you can get this box o' nasty just from opening a door. Yup. Makes you want to be a germaphobe, doesn't it? Thought so.) Six hours of good medicine later, the ER doctor on call comes into my curtained-off area (it ain't a room, people, it's a closet with a biohazard bin, an adjustable cot, and a shower-curtain cordoning off the area; Tres utilitarian.) and announced that I should not move, eat, or talk. Wha? But, I'm feeling better! I wanna go home! I LOVE steroids! They're fantastic! I can now swallow! My pain went from a 9 to a 4. This is a miracle---time for discharge! Time for dinner!!! (At this point, I had not eaten in over 48 hours). No, he says, we are transporting you to another hospital to see an ENT surgeon---you need surgery. Excuse me, I'm sorry, I thought you said surgery---that's funny, my ears must be clogged up still or something..... Yes, surgery. What hosptital do you want to go to? So, at 11pm, Jen gets bundled up in swaddling blankies, iv intact with 7 extensions, all meds hanging off the drip, and loaded into an ambulance and taken to GW.
Having fun yet? I sure was. Not. At. All. At GW there are real sick people. People who are dying and gonna die. Like tonight. There are people among me here who will most certainly face death and it's inevitable and it's freaking me out. I'm taked directly into a room, do not pass go, but instead I pass many gurneyed patients lying in the hallway, queued up like college kids staking out a concert venue the night before, except they are your Grandma and Grandpa and they are alone and probably cold and scared and this made me even more sad, except I was on drugs, so it was moribundly humorous, if that makes any sense at all. I saw a man on oxygen scratch at his ankle and look up at me, wide-eyed and quizzical. He looked friendly. And sick. Everybody here is sick! Get me out of here. This isn't the Bourgeois Bethesda hosptial my friends; I'm in the medical facility for the proleteriat now. From my room (and this time, it is an actual room, with a door, a surgical tray, lights, sink, scrub-in, biohazard, and cabinets of supplies, drawers of intruments...oh my GOD! Are they going to to cut my throat HERE? In this room, just inches away from the sick Grandpas? Don't they put you in a more sterile envirnoment? Shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shitballs. Ok, Van Ness, breathe, just breathe, it's cool, it's cool, it's cool. It'll be okay. And then I hear it: the scream. Feral, primal, agonizing----a man screaming in pain. And all of sudden, I am calm. Because I know that it is not me. Sounds horrible, doesn't it? But oh so true.
GW is backed-up like 66 during rush hour and so they send my a$s home with a script for a potent antibiotic and they make me promise I'll return the next morning to consult with the ENT surgeon. Funny thing is, it IS already the next morning. I get home around 130am. ENT examines me, the CAT scan, and says----I can lance this thing right now, open up. And. I. Freak. Wouldn't you? I mean, come ON? No anestetic? A knife? INSIDE my mouth hanging down my throat? Dude. You've got to be kidding. He says, we don't need to lance it. Come back after you've finished the course of antibiotics and we'll see if you want surgery to take out your tonsils. It's totally up to you. This, I like. My choice. My choice NOT to have an expensive, invasive, elective surgery. Exactly.
Somewhere between Wednesday and Friday I started to develop a whole 'nother mother of symptoms which involved a most uncomfortable tightness in my chest and shortness of breath. I felt like an old man as I padded about my tiny studio, making tea, shuffling about, clutching at my rube with one hand, opening the microwave with the other, sighing, catching my breath, making the tea, settling into the sofa, gently, gently....slowly...ahhhh. What the hell was happening to me? I looked down at my burgeoning belly; everything from the middle of my sternum down to my navel was convex! And hard. Distended, bloated grandpa belly. WTF?! So, I have.....gas? A trip to Whole Foods to replenish fluids and buy applesauce (soup was getting old by now, and plus, I didn't need to salt to bloat me any further...) One of the friendly WF folks pointed me in the direction of some homeopathic gas-relief and I forked over my $10 for some relief.
None came. :(
I was hospitalized yesterday wih pseudomembranous colitis, a severe intestinal condition which developed as a result of the heavy does of Clindamycin I've been taking for the damn peritonsillar abscess, which, by the way, I am convinced occurred de novo since my doctor's office called to inform me that I tested strep-negative. Interesting fact: apparently George Washington was believed to have died from a peritonsillar abscess. Thank God we live in the medically advanced times of 11 blades to surgically remove said abscesses.
The good news is: I am finally fever-free after 7 days, and the abscess appears to be completley gone. They flushed the Clinda in the hospital and gave me medicines to paralyze the esophagus and stomach to prevent the problem from getting any worse. I have to take a proton-pump inhibitor for a while until back to normal, but am otherwise alive and well, albieit a bit more on the tired side than usual. I am sad to be missing my soccer playoffs but oh-so grateful to be home, in bed, with a book (Nick Hornby) and a laptop. Let's hope this is the end of the road of sickness for me. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm looking forward to lacing-up my running shoes and getting out there to pound the pavement. Alive.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Playoffs--Part One
Today was game one of Spenn FC's playoffs for soccer and we squeaked by with a 4-2 win. Thankfully, I was able to get a workout in and the weather was *perfect* for soccer: 59 degrees at most, sunny and breezy. Yay! Playoffs part two are next Saturday. Stay tuned...
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