Sean got a job.


He is working at a pharmaceutical company managing the front desk and helping out on projects when necessary. He's even done a little bit of layout work after he taught himself indesign. He's picking up on design basics pretty quickly actually.

So, Sean has a job and I have a job. Well, two jobs. But I love that if I want to take a night off, I don't have to worry that I might not make rent. I don't have to tell friends that I haven't seen in a month that if we get together it has to be at PF Chang's because I get my 50% employee discount and I can't afford anywhere else. I can start signing up for races again, now that the $15 race fee won't break my bank.

I'm still waiting on my final paycheck from Baseline (which honestly I don't know if I'll ever get). But if I do get it I'm totally going out and getting something really nice for myself and not feel guilty about it.

I forgot to talk about the Boston Marathon in my last post.
The I-didn't-run-it-race report:

I decided to volunteer for the Boston marathon this year, and I was placed with the 'baggage crew' at the start in Hopkington. Most organized marathons have a baggage drop off for the runners at the start point, then pick up when they finish. I'd say at least half the runners use this service, so there are a lot of bags to bus from Hopkington to Boston. There were about 30 school busses, organized by race bib number, and 5 of us got assigned to a bus. We stayed on the bus as the runners found the bus that matched their bib number, then gave us their bags and we placed them accordingly on the bus. The windows wouldn't open enough for even a small bag to fit through (silly child safety windows), so we utilized the 2 emergency exit windows. As soon as I swung open the window I had the urge to scream 'NOBODY SEES THE WIZARD!' because I knew that if the bus was green I would look so much like the Emerald city gatekeeper from the Wizard of Oz.

I was lucky enough to be put on the bus that collected numbers 1000 to 1499. These runners are practically elite. They qualified (easily) for Boston and were assigned in the 1st corral since they all estimated their finishing time to be around 2 hours and 30 minutes. I didn't realize this until about halfway through when I noticed everyone who was coming to our bus were really gangly and muscular and had a very 'hungry' look in their eyes. And all of them were guys. Except there was one girl. I have no idea who she was, but she gets some SERIOUS PROPS and she is my new hero.

After we finished collecting bags and all the marathon had started, our busses made the way back to boston. All 30 busses had a police escort, exits were blocked off for our use only, I had attained VIP status. Even though I knew the plastic bag with someone's sweatpants were the ACTUAL reason for all this special treatment.

After we got off the bus, it was about 2 hours after the elite women had started running, and they would be finishing in about a half hour, so I found a place on Boylston street to watch the elite runners finish before I started my shift. I won't bore you with results, because anyone who cares already knows what happened. Side note: Kara Goucher has got to be the hottest runner ever.

I started my shift at PF Chang's at 1pm, and I can't verbalize how excited I was that I didn't have to deal with any customers since I was bartending the service well. I HATE waitressing marathon weekend. For 2 reasons:

1) Marathoners are snobs. They think running 26.2 miles is something so spectacular that everyone should be in awe. And they all wear their technical t-shirts or the overpriced shirts they bought at the expo of another marathon. Every single one of them looked like a fucking tool. Or even worse, they wear the 2009 Boston marathon jackets before marathon monday. Bad form. They were breaking Race Commandment No.1: Thou Shalt Not Wear the Merchandise from a Race that Thou Hast Not Finished Yet. Plus, those jackets are UGLY. In addition, most of them are from out of town and Boston is pretty expensive. So no one tips well. Even if you tell them to have a great race. They don't care. So forgive me if I judge you because you're wearing a $120 race jacket, $50 shorts and $250 special edition adidas shoes and you order a $40 meal and then tip me $5. Un-fucking-acceptable.

2) I am a snob. And I'm jealous. I haven't qualified for Boston (to be fair, I've only seriously tried once). It's like all these runners are shoving my nose in it. Not to mention they actually have the time and money to train and to send themselves on a little vacation. I'm still in serious debt and work 80 hours a week just to stay afloat. Assholes.

So I was thrilled to not have to deal with any of the stupid marathoners who were celebrating their 'victory.' Honestly, anyone could run a marathon if they wanted to. I wholeheartedly believe that. The only marathon you should celebrate after is if you completed Pikes Peak.

The rest of the evening passed as ordinary as expected. But it was a long day and I was SO glad to be unemployed so I could sleep in the next morning.

I decided my plan for when I qualify for Boston.

Day before: I will attend the expo and oogle at everything. While wearing 4" heels, a short skirt, and a long jacket. While every other runner will look like a total tool 'Look at the marathon I ran before I ran Boston - aren't I awesome?' I will be the girl everyone is wondering if she actually is running and why the hell would she chance turning her ankle in high heels the day before the marathon? I'll tell you why, because no one else will be.

Day of: I'll run the marathon, go home and take a quick shower before heading off to work to waitress the rest of the night. I'd have to keep walking the rest of the day to prevent stiffness the next day anyway. I'll wear my metal around my neck. Then, when any snobby marathoners sit in my section, they'll know as soon as I come up to their table that I am way more hardcore than they are.

Plus, I'll get a ton of sympathy tips.

Since no one reads this blog, I'm sure I wasn't missed. But it was a rough couple of months.

The job(s)
So my contract at Baseline Development Group (BDG) ended on April 7. I knew it was coming, but contract work still sucks. Specifically because I'm trying to sell myself as a designer, yet I don't have a strong design portfolio or even an online portfolio. I've recently accepted that I just am going to have to settle for being a production monkey for awhile. I'm actually kind of ok with that. Production people are way more intelligent and, unlike most designers, aren't hung up on how awesome they think they are.

So I took a few days off before beginning my job hunt, hung out with some friends I haven't seen in forever and picked up more shifts at P F Chang's so Sean and I would still have money for food. Having all this extra time should have meant my running benefited, but that would be a lie. Sleep benefited. Sleep benefited a lot actually.

Right after I landed my next job at Houghton Mifflin (8 month contract - SCORE!), I found out that BDG folded. What happened the last few weeks at BDG deserves its own post, but I'm just going to say that shit went down. And badly. Most people are shocked when I tell the story of BDG's final week. Personally, I'm not sure how I feel about BDG closing its doors. Well, that's a lie. I'm upset. BDG is where I got my first real co-op job at Northeastern, and though I was never there as an 'employee,' I kind of was. I had my spot in production, almost everyone who had been there for more than a month knew who I was, not to say that I was totally popular or everyone's favorite, but people knew I was a solid investment. Not to mention I met most of my current friends there as well as my Captain.

The invitations
My sister is getting married in June. YAY! But, that also meant I was unacceptably late in sending off her invitations. I had to get it done by April 30th. I already had the design, the wording, and knew exactly what I needed to do. I just had to gather the materials and assemble it. Thankfully, Mom was addressing the invitations.

I had ZERO clue how long it was going to take for me to do these invitations. I basically ignored Sean for a week, sat down in front of the TV and my huge coffee table and printed, cut, punched, tied, stacked, and sealed 171 stupid invitations. It took every second of my free time to get it done by the deadline. The only thing that got me through it was the Resident Evil movies. Seriously. I must have watched each of those movies 4 times. Now I'm completely sick of them and couldn't sit down and watched it if you forced me to, but at the time that's all I wanted to watch.

So to sum up: ignoring your husband + evil zombies = beautiful invitations.

The training
It didn't happen. I gained all the weight back I had lost in my last few weeks at BDG when I was really eating healthy and running and doing pilates all the time, which I totally meant to write a post about, but I got too busy.

I think this post shall be a 2-part-er. For now, I'm off to Cottonwood Cafe to have a farewell party for BDG.

I should have known I was going to fail this morning’s workout when I set my alarm for 5:45am at 1am this morning. 4 hours and 45 minutes of sleep(at most), what was I thinking? Usually, I’m pretty good at getting up in the morning and doing my workout(most weekdays I don’t have the time to work out in the evening, so it’s morning or nothing), but this last week has been a real problem. So, I hit the snooze until 7:45am, barely enough time for me to shower and get ready before I had to catch the train.

Whenever I miss a morning workout and I know I can’t make it up later in the day, I obsess over it. I can’t just let it go. I’m too scared I’ll keep missing workouts and I’ll be the person I used to be – calling myself a runner but only running once a week (or less).

Currently, I’m not as scared of becoming that person again. Very recently I had to choose between doing some errands or going out for my long run, and I had my first moment when I realized I didn’t want to miss my run. Not just because I would have to mark another ‘rest day’ on my training schedule, but because I really truly wanted to run and get out there for an hour or two. It was really exciting to finally feel this way.

However, my work/sleep/running schedule makes for a real bitch when I’m tired, because I don’t know what to fix. I read some articles on Runners World about sleeping, how greatly it effects your performance and ‘how to sleep,’ things that I need to do to sleep more efficiently, but those articles were clearly not written for someone with my schedule. I have too many questions: Am I overtraining or just not getting enough sleep? Am I getting enough sleep or am I mentally exhausted from my jobs? Do I have the stamina to work 70 hours a week and train for marathons as well as take care of my family?

That last question always gets me. I always wonder if I’m strong enough for the goals I set for myself. And how far and how hard am I going to push myself before I can actually accept that I’m truly working hard enough? When I’m running 70 mile weeks and pushing a 7min/mi? Do I have to get sick and be unable to train or work for a few days before I realize my body is at it’s breaking point? Or worse, do I have to get injured before I can award myself with the ‘Liz is hardcore’ metal?

Is that what I need? To push my body to it’s breaking point? I know a few people who take training to their own insane level. If they don’t puke during a tempo run, they haven’t worked hard enough. If they don’t collapse and sleep for a few hours after their long runs, they didn’t go far enough. Their training is measured by how much it takes out of them.

That’s what I want. I want to leave no room for speculation, no room for doubt or questions. I want to know for sure where my ‘danger-do not cross’ line is. After that, I can back off. But I want to know my limits.

I've been considering going to see a sports nutritionist. Not because I don't know how much water I should be drinking per day, or how many grams of carbs and protein I need, because I already know a TON about nutrition. So does Sean.

But I'm a terrible judge of my own character. This has been a problem that has plagued me since I started running 3 years ago. I never feel like I'm challenging myself enough. So I run. Hard. But eventually, as we all know, if you don't take the rest days at least once and awhile, you get burnt out. And then I justify that since I work 70-80 hours/week, I'm entitled to take it slow in my training and work up to whatever my goal is. But then I feel unfulfilled. I feel lazy and weak. I picture myself being compared to a single parent who works even more than I do and can run a 2:50:00 marathon(I don't have any examples of this person, but I know he or she is out there). And then I add more miles to my training plan and don't take a day off for 2 weeks.

Rinse and repeat.

And in comes a new problem: my weight. Not out of vanity or anything, but it's a proven fact that you run faster when you have less weight to carry. And duh, I want to run fast. (I italicized the word 'fast' so you'd really understand how zippy I want to be) I want to qualify for Boston by 2010. I then want to move up to ultra marathons and complete the Spartathlon before I'm 30. After that? Who knows! I'm like a little kid. I dream big.

While I've somewhat been able to control my inner demon about training, my inner food demon is a lot more difficult to control. See, he's been there for awhile. He knows me too well. And he knows I know, so he's thinking 3 steps ahead of me. Kind of like a ninja. Or a Special Ops Delta force member.

So, I wanted to see a nutritionist so I could healthily lose weight, find out where the pitfalls in my diet are, and anything else that I might just need to fine tune.

But I've talked to a few people about this; a cyclist and runner, a sports therapy student, and a few friends who have had the same issues with food that I've had in the past, and I really can't get a straight answer. It seems like no one really cares about nutritionists one way or another. Everyone has given me a shrug of their shoulders and said, 'If you think it will help, go for it.'

This is another problem with another inner demon of mine. I don't trust myself too often. This isn't to say that I'm not stubborn beyond believe when I feel a certain way about something, but when it comes to something new I always need a ton of opinions about everything. I think this is why I was considering becoming a lawyer for awhile. You can't defend someone because you think they're innocent(or guilty). Nothing like that holds up. You need facts, expert opinions, documents and evidence. It takes me awhile to start up something new because I have to do my research on it. I have to decided if it's worth my time and investment. I don't go into projects blind and not having a set path. If I ever do anything sporadic, it's because I don't have something that I've already planned out, or the reward/consequence of doing said sporadic thing won't affect me one way or another. Heck, I usually can't even buy a CD without wondering if I could use that $12.95 in some better way.

So with everyone's opinion being totally unhelpful, I think I've decided to not see a sports nutritionist for now. What I'm going to do is keep a food journal, keep track of everything I eat (I've done this before, but actually seeing the calories written down kind of freaked me out), then sit down with Sean and have him help me with my problem spots and see where I can improve.

Also, I am capable of making an executive decision on some levels.

I will not be eating Chinese food again. It does not make Lizzy a happy panda. In fact, it makes her rather smelly the next day.

When Sean and I first got our rescued 65 pound pit bull, he had a TON of energy. When we adopted him, we knew how energetic this breed was. We knew we'd have a lot of work ahead of us, and I planned on taking him on most of my outdoor runs. It seemed like a great way to kill two birds with one stone. Instead of taking a morning run and walking the dog, I'd just take my dog on my run.

Plus, I had heard such wonderful stories about people who loved running with their dog. Dogs they could take on trail runs, or just have them run alongside them without a leash. Runner's World magazine published story after story of people who could run with their dogs and how much it enhanced their running and brought the dog and master closer together. I blame Runner's World for giving me such high hopes.

I took him out on the first run, and he was a pain in the ass. He didn't seem to get the concept of running. He seemed to think that outdoor time was his time to stop and smell everything. Running times be damned! And then he'd catch up and pull on his leash, as if saying 'go faster damn it! Why must you run so slow?' I laughed at it, because he was forcing me to go faster. Finally! I had a coach!

When summer rolled around and the snow let up, I quickly realized that if I cared anything about my pace, I couldn't bring my dog on a run. He overheated quickly and couldn't pace himself. He'd start off running like a bullet and I'd have to pull him back for a mile(both to save his energy and mine). Another mile would go by and we'd run just fine together, then on the third mile he'd start hanging back.
"Told you." I'd joke. Try pacing yourself next time you stupid dog.

Hanging back turned into lagging, especially in the hot summer days. I brought along a whole water bottle and a portable bowl for something as short as a 3 mile run. One day I was running and he collapsed into the shade, bringing me to an abrupt stop. He looked back at me as if to say, 'We will not run another step until I'm ready.'

Today I tried to take him on an easy, 4 mile run. There's a ton of snow around, and sidewalks suck right now. Snow(my dog) was constantly darting in front of me, and I was already dodging snow chunks and ice patches. My dog has gotten used to me kicking him in the hind legs if he can't stay on on side of me.

But this week, especially yesterday, sucked on just about every single level, and all I wanted to do was have a great run to blow off stress and have some time for myself. So the things that Snow normally does on my runs really, really bothered me today. He would hang back to smell something, I'd keep running and pull him along, then he'd surge ahead at just the wrong moment, when there'd be about 3 inches of space, forcing me to kick myself in the ankles or in worse circumstances, wrapping my feet around each other and pulling me down on the ice.

It was supposed to be a 4 mile run. I turned around after 1.2 miles taking me 13 minutes. Suddenly I realized that this run wasn't fun anymore. I wasn't enjoying it, and it was making me miserable. And I wanted to kick my dog. Repeatedly. Running was supposed to make me happy, let me relax, zone out, find my stride. Or, it should make me push myself, be competitive and have a long, hard workout that I feel completely dead after. Whatever I wanted. I couldn't do that with my dog. He was a distraction and an annoyance. And most of all, I shouldn't ever want to kick my dog. So I decided that my dog will no longer be sharing any runs with me.

Yeah, it might mean I have to wake up 20 minutes earlier in the mornings, but at least I'll have my runs back.

I've signed up for my first spring race. My first race in over 6 months. Ouch, I didn't realize how long it's been, and how out of shape I've become. Last winter, when I was training(I'm using that term VERY loosely) to run(i.e. practically walk) the P.F. Chang's Marathon, I blamed everything on work and home. My main job had me working extreme amounts of overtime, without getting paid for it. For about a month I was working overnight at the office, then catching a cab home to take a shower and a quick nap before I came back to the office to do it over again. Rinse and repeat. Did I mention during that month my cigarette habit must have gone from 5-7 cigarettes a day to almost a pack? Did I also mention that I was training for a MARATHON? This was stupid on so many levels, I'm ashamed to talk about it.

That marathon was hell. I hated every moment of it. I hated my 5:50:41 finish time (my first marathon [which was also my first race ever] I finished in 4:27:32). So to have a finish like that was just embarrassing for me. I am embarrassed because I couldn't blame anyone for my shitty finishing time. I had done it all to myself. I had skipped my long runs with TNT, time I could have spent training or sleeping or whatever were dedicated to working those overtime hours without pay, and I was smoking and drinking like a teenager who had just found Dad's Marlborough lights and Mom's secret liquor stash. I've never been one to deal with stress in a healthy or even normal fashion, and last winter was certainly no exception.

Sure, I could blame my horrible mental state on everything else that was going on in my life. I was giving my time and my sleep to this company who had completely fucked me over, my second job was punishing me for showing up late to a few shifts because of my other job, and to top it off, my husband didn't have a job. So I was the soul breadwinner, and after 18 or 22 hour days, I'd come home to a messy, foodless house and I then expected myself to go out and RUN 6 or 8 miles? The idea was laughable. Any time I found myself with free time I either fell asleep, or went out on my porch to call my parents or friends and smoked and got wasted as fast as possible.

In short, I was a fucking wreck.

I was nearing the end of my training when I met Claire. This girl is my own personal guru. She works at my office and was there the whole time during the project from hell. She was working almost as much as I was, but yet she was able to constantly be training and running and cycling. Personally, I thought she was amazing and someone I wanted to but could never be, because I couldn't seem to get my act in order.

We take the same train into work. I didn't know this until she and I bumped into each other on the way in. I was smoking. At that time, I didn't know how many events she had done, but I knew she was hardcore. Anyway, she asked me how training was going and I think I looked at her like she was crazy. Here I am, smoking, and she's asking me how my training's going? Is she serious?

"Well, considering how much time I spend here, not very well," I said. Then, acknowledging my cigarette, "You must think I'm so stupid for smoking while training for a marathon."
"No." She said flatly. "I used to drink and smoke when I trained too. I get it. I mean, it's not good for you, but right now, what you're doing, is stressful."

And she left it at that. Since I already felt like a dumb ass for ruining my training, it was nice not to have an athlete talk to me without judgment. Maybe she was secretly judging me, but I didn't notice(and I doubt it).

The day before the marathon, my friend Kelly arrived in Phoenix to meet me. I was still so stressed out and so excited to just get away from all the shit that was happening in Boston, I begged her to drive me to a CVS to pick up some cigarettes. I must have smoked a pack of cigarettes that day. If I had the opportunity, I probably would have smoked one or two before the race at 4:30am.

But, it's been a year since that horrible project, and I think I'm finally getting my shit together again. I haven't had a cigarette in a month, and to be honest, I don't crave it all that much. Only when I'm really really stressed out about something do I even consider asking someone for a cigarette. I've been cutting down my drinking too. I don't go out to drink, and besides getting laid off last month (and an embarrassing scotch incident with my family), I haven't had a drink in awhile. My training is improving, and although my pace is still painfully slow, I know it will improve. If 4 years ago I went from never running before, to being 45 minutes off a Boston marathon qualifying time; then I should be able to bounce back from all these unhealthy choices I've been making the past few years.

So, in sigining up for the Fells Trail Race, a tough as nails trail race which gains and looses 100 feet per mile and I've been told that it's difficulty cannot be overstated. It's an 8 mile race which I might actually come in dead last. My friend Wes, who tried desperately hard to get me to join the Cross Country team when I was a freshman in college, told me that I will *never* come in first or last in a race. I might just prove him wrong with this race because there's probably only going to be about 50 people participating. I told Caire about this race. She's done it twice.

This time, she told me I was crazy.

Well deserved.

In the past, whenever I've tried to make up a running schedule, it's either been to easy or insanely hard. So hard, in fact, that there's no way I could have stuck to it. Problem is, I wanted instant results. But as I am so fond of quoting, "If you focus on results you will never change. If you focus on change, you will get results."

But now, I have plans to run 4 days a week, and cross train 3. I'm focusing on pacing myself, mixing in speed workouts with tempo runs, as well as my weekend long run. 3 days of core training, 2 days of cardio cross training. At least as I still have my gym membership, which I have already canceled and will only have access to until February 20. I'm excited, I hate that gym.

I swear I will never, ever join a gym again unless it's the YMCA. If it's good enough for Claire, it must be good enough for me.

So, Sunday rundown:

Pace: 10:31/2 miles
Weight: 151 lbs