Without a Rudder

Ever feel directionless?  Like you're floating?  Not in the "happy cloud" way, but in the "I don't know where I'm going and I don't have the energy to care" way?  I've kinda got that feeling right now.  Hence why the post-silence.  I don't feel drained or depressed.  I do plenty of things just fine, but it's not easy to gather motivation.  Offer me a choice and I don't really care- sometimes I'll pick one just to move forward, but I don't have a strong inclination towards... well... anything.  It's been long enough that I need to DO something to snap out of it, but what?

Have you ever been in this mood?  Any suggestions?

Seriously? SERIOUSLY?!?!

I did it again.  I broke myself.  Again.

Three weeks ago I rolled my left ankle at the Tuesday Night NHSSC Hockey finals.  It hurt, I had to walk around the track, but I was still able to finish the game.  I gave it a few days, then started taping it and was back to running and hiking.  Last Saturday, the morning of the move, My Runner, Puma Girl, and I ran in a 5K trail run hosted by EMS.  It was hard- I hadn't been training much and boy was I feeling it.  The trail was primarily uphill for the first part of the course, and it was taking the mickey out of me.  I realized I should probably slow down when my tunnel vision prevented me from seeing a root, which I then tripped on and fell flat on the ground.  No worries, brushed my self off and kept going, albeit at a slower pace.

At the top of the hill My Runner was waiting for me.  (Puma Girl was battling her own owies, so she took it slow.)  I was tired, so it was nice to have the company.  The view was beautiful at the top of the hill, and My Runner's chatting with me about training etc.  We were running downhill, and I was starting to feel better.  I had the clarity in my brain to begin thinking about a training schedule, since I have a 25K (15.5mi) trail run coming up at the end of May, not to mention the possibility of pacing My Runner at Massenutten, so I shoul-

::Insert epic fall here::

I don't know if I tripped over anything.  I think my left foot came down on an uneven surface, and I felt the ankle start to roll.  Normally I would have just gone with it and it would have been fine, but since the ankle was already hurt, I then felt the pain of tearing, my ankle rolled further, and I went all the way down, rolling into the brush on the side of the trail.  And of course I was bawling.  I was feeling intense pain, but also rage and frustration.  I knew this was a bad injury.  I wasn't going to be able to walk it off.  

It took a long time to calm down.  The longer the pain was intense, the worse I felt emotionally.  Most people were lovely and expressed concern when they passed.  The Run Director stopped and checked in on me; she was so concerned.  I hiked about a mile out, first on My Runner's shoulder, then on Puma Girl's when she caught up to us and My Runner went to get the car.  

That was last Saturday.  After the sprain, I shopped around EMS for an hour or so (what? they were having a great sale!), iced it on the way to Manch, and MOVED (with the generous help of My Runner, My Parents, and some friends).  I tried to be brave and I tried to help, but I was in a lot of pain the whole day.

It's 6 days later and I'm still in pain.  It's better.  It's healing.  But there's still a good amount of swelling.  I have bruising halfway up my calf and down into my foot.  Unpacking last night left me limping again.  I keep it wrapped most of the time and ice it on and off throughout the day.  Had to bail from a wicked fun sounding 5K this Sunday, and needless to say that training schedule I was working on when I fell has been tabled.  

Most of the time I'm level headed about it.  I realize that there's nothing I can do but do my best to help it heal.  Stay off it as much as possible, don't get back to running or hiking too soon.  Sometimes I get caught in the pit of despair, though.  I start thinking about the events I've committed to, and especially as the weather gets nicer how much I want to be outside running or hiking.  I think of how "behind" I am in training.  I feel my waistline expanding as my caloric burn reduces but my eating habits don't change.  

I fell into the downward spiral this past Monday after watching my team play hockey without me.  My Runner noticed, and quoted me to me: "Don't let something you can't change ruin a perfectly good night."  I hate it when My Runner outsmarts me with... me.  But, at least I still end up being "right."  :-)  I'm trying to heed my advice this time and not get too down about being injured.  It sucks, but why should I let that ruin my life?  It's not forever.

Back in the (Training) Saddle Again

Running Partners

With permission from my excellent PT staff, I'm back training again.  It's hard.  Sometimes to the point of being demoralizing.  The first time I did a mile and change I thought I would die on the last hill.  2.5 miles was similarly killer.  Mentally I accept that this is where my body is after taking such a long rest, but emotionally it's a very difficult pill to swallow.  I get into my head, think about how much I lost and how far I have to go....  then it's a downward spiral.  My chest gets tight, the tears sting my eyes, my teeth clench... none of which actually contributes to my running.

The other night when My Runner and I were out on a 2.5 miler, he made a good point (this happens a lot....).  He asked what I was so worried about.  Getting re-injured is my biggest fear.  "Before or after the half-marathon?"  Well, either, really.  "You have to pick one," he pushed.  Well, if I have to choose, it would be before.  I don't have any races scheduled for weeks after the half.  I don't care if I drag my mangled limbs over the finish line as long as they CROSS the finish line.  "Then focus on the smaller races.  Increase your mileage slowly.  If you have to walk to finish the races, so be it.  It beats not being able to even toe the line."  He was right.  I've been worrying so hard about the half-marathon, but I have FOUR races to complete before I even do that. 

I'm working on a new training schedule.  It's all very informal now.  It's been suggested that I track my miles here so I stay accountable, but I'm reluctant.  Partly because I PROMISE THIS ISN'T A RUNNING BLOG.  Partly because maybe I'm not ready to be accountable.  Maybe I'm afraid to really see how far behind I am in numerical form.  It will solidify my feelings of defeat. 

I'm also afraid I'll get hurt again before the next race.  In fact, I did hurt myself again on Saturday.  Luckily, it wasn't lasting and I was able to rest it and run on Sunday, but it was scary and frustrating enough that I couldn't hold back the tears.  Sure, it hurt physically (tweaked my quad when I slipped on ice), but mentally I felt so defeated.   I'm afraid I'll get so frustrated I'll want to chuck the whole thing.  I'm afraid I'll never find running fun again.  I'm afraid My Runner will get so fed up with my negative attitude he'll stop wanting to run with me.

So, as much as I need to work on my training physically, I need to work on my mental state.  I have to find the joy in running, overcome the frustration and negativity.  I found personal joy in running; that's why I invested so much time and effort in it.  I miss that joy.  The feelings of defeat can be overwhelming sometimes, but as I run, as My Runner talks me through my feelings, and as I work through my fears, I'm finding that the negativity is lessened.  I still huff like an ornery Clydesdale going up the tough hills, letting out the occasional ragey groan at how tough it is.  I still feel my chest tighten when I let the bad stuff wash over me.  But it's easier to hold the tide at bay.  Sunday, running 3.5miles for the first time since my injury, I actually found myself smiling and laughing during the run.  I felt some joy at running.  It was wonderful, and I can't wait to run again and work on finding that feeling.  My next training goal isn't distance, it's joy.

Not extatic, but moving toards joyfull....

Can and Can't

What I can't control:

• The weather and other natural forces
• The passage of time
• Gravity
• Other people's behavior and choices
• The sound of my upstairs neighbor's vacuum
• How other people drive
• My genetic makeup
• The eventual decay of food in my fridge
• The price of gas
• Mortality
• The air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow

What I can control:

• My own behavior, choices, and reactions to the list above.

Sure, one can mitigate against that which one can't control.  I own a big warm jacket because while I can't control the weather, I can make the choice to stay warm in my jacket.  I can't control how other people drive, but I can behave in a safe and alert manner on the road and wear my seatbelt.  I change my oil in my car to prevent the deterioration of the mechanical parts of my car engine.  I go to the doctor's and work out to slow the eventual breakdown of my body and organs.

Unfortunately, mitigation can often give the illusion of control.  Wash your hands, wipe down every surface with bleach, don't touch anyone, wear a mask, and you won't get sick.  But you can still get sick.  The illusion of control lulls us (ok, me) into a false sense of security: Do this and you can prevent that.  Exercise and good diet can keep a person healthy longer, but no one will live forever.  This false sense of security, placation, really, is in place to keep people from panicking on a daily basis.  Even with mitigation, people still panic.

I'm very comfortable thinking that I can control things.  The flip side of that is how completely uncomfortable I am not being in control.  If you've ever had me as a passenger in your car, notice that I don't pay attention to the road.  Or if I am paying attention to traffic, my legs are stiff, my right hand is gripping the handle, and I'm braced for impact.  I may also (likely will) make fearful gaspy noises when you or other drivers do things I don't expect.  This is not a testament to your driving (well, it may be, but I'd never tell you that), but an example of how much I hate not being in control.

In the final death throws months of my relationship with The Boy, when I was going to therapy to learn how to be in a relationship with someone with anxiety and depression, Therapist told me something that I've found valuable in every aspect of life.  I relayed to her a particularly bad fight we'd recently had, which included some more than harsh remarks verbal abuse from him.  She was shocked to hear what he had said, and when I told her that he was going through a particularly low time in his depression cycle (basicly "excusing" him), she said "He can't control his mood, but he CAN control his behavior."  Wow.  It seemed so obvious when she said it...

In that moment I knew The Boy and I were destined to be done. I realized that if he can control his behavior, by extension I could control mine, and that my behavior had lead me to stay in an unhealthy and unhappy relationship for years.  Only by changing my behavior could I change my situation. Her statement changed my entire paradigm.  I'm sure I've heard similar things said to me over the course of my life; either I wasn't ready to hear them or I didn't fully understand it as I did in that moment.  Not only could the boy control his behavior, that's all ANYONE can really control.  Mitigation against bad things happening is behavior.  Reacting to forces beyond our control is behavior.  Inaction is behavior.

So now when I feel the world is spinning out of my control and I feel like I'm floundering in a stormy sea, I remind myself: I can't control the world, only my own behavior towards it.

Therapy of the Physical Kind

You'd think with a family of medical professionals (and some working towards it) I'd be smart when it came to physical ailments.  Turns out I'm merely sophomoric.  And there's a reason I went into the arts and not the sciences.

I misdiagnosed my injury owie.  After my evaluation with Effie, my PT, today, she pinpointed the pain better than I or my doctor did and found that the rotator muscles, the ones that keep the ball in the socket of my hip joint, are actually the problem.  After a thorough session of stretching and flexing and pushing, she determined the cause to be high flexibility in my hips (I actually saw her eyes get wider when she was rotating my legs) but weakness in the adductor and abductor muscles (the in and out ones).

Effie also found that my quads were crazy tight.  She had me lay on the table with one knee at my chest and the other leg hanging off, with the edge of the table at butt level.  Apparently, one's leg should hang at a 90* angle.  Mine was more obtuse - closer to 120*.  Whoops.  She guessed the tightness was a combination of not stretching and my glutes compensating for my hips.

I walked out with homework and hope.  I have several stretches that I have to do daily, plus strengthening exercises.  She told me I was allowed to ride a stationary bike, but I should refrain from running until the pain goes away.  Effie will be doing my overall plan, though I'll meet with her and Laura, another clinician, twice a week.  Monday is my next appointment, and I'll be doing more exercises and getting new homework.

Obviously it's too early to tell if I'll be able to train at all or even run the half marathon.  I did let her know that I signed up for it and am going to VA, regardless of progress, but I'll be advised by them on if I should attempt it.  

It's nice to finally feel something other than frustration.  I felt like Effie really heard me.  She knew that being active was important to me.  She treated me like an individual, and took the time to help find stretches that worked for me, correcting my form in some cases.  It was everything I hoped for.  

The real challenge?  I've never been one to do my homework.  Of course, I was never as motivated by trigonometry as I am now.

Doctor, Doctor, Gimme the News

I've got a bad case of.... tendinitis. 

I ran for the first time in over a week on Sunday.  2.2 miles, mostly dirt.  My hip was bothering me a bit when we were done.  Ten minutes after it was bothering me a lot.  An hour later, I was limping.  The next day, pain still.


The worst part about being injured is the total lack of control I have over it.  Sure, I can keep from injuring it further, mostly, but really I can't do anything to help.  And I hate it.  I hate that it slows me down.  I hate that I walk like an old lady if I've been sitting on it too long.  I hate that I think about it when I'm playing hockey or want to go running or snow shoeing.  I hate that it makes me cry, not from the pain but from the frustration.  Mostly I hate that it's keeping me from spending time with My Runner doing what we love. 


So I did the only thing I have control over.  I called my doctor on Monday to follow up.  A week of rest, ibuprofen, and ice and/or heat had not improved anything.  My pain was mostly gone during that week, but it often felt stiff or sore.  And obviously running aggravated it again.  The answering service took my information (yeah, they were open, they just screen calls with a service - how bureaucratic of them...) and I started looking for Physical Therapy offices. 


My Dad had a great suggestion - call a local running club for suggestions.  My Runner, taking it a step further, suggested I contact the local running store, as the local running club operates through them.  His suggestion was spot-on; they had several referrals for me.  Ultimately I chose a place that was relatively close by, and one of the staff is acquainted with My Runner.  Hopefully I won't feel as anonymous as I do at my doctor's office.  I called to ask if I needed a referral or prescription from my doctor (I did), and asked them to fax over any new patient forms I'd need to fill out (they did).  The nurse from my doctor's office called in as I was finishing that conversation.


She confirmed what I had told the answering service (seriously?  why bother?), and I spoke to her about PT.  She said, "Sounds like tendinitis to me.  There's no cure for that."  ::pause::  Yeah, ok, well I'd like to keep it from recurring.  "Well, it's not like we can perform surgery on it.  It doesn't go away."  ::more pause::  Yes, I understand, but I lead an active life style and I would like to work with a Physical Therapist so I can learn to keep this in check and avoid the pain.  "Oh.  Well, I'll have to go talk with the doctor."


Really?  Jeeze... ok.  Already diagnosed it as tendinitis (coulda told you that a week and a half ago when you said ibuprofen and ice, but ok), and now we need to "talk" to the doctor to see if it's ok if I go to PT?  Fine. 


"The doctor wants to see you before she gives you a prescription for PT.  Would you like an appointment next week?"  No, I want your next available appointment.  "Ah.  Tomorrow, 9:15am?"  Yes.  See you then.


Tuesday morning I arrive at the office at 9:10am, wait the customary 15 minutes, am ushered into an exam room where the medical assistant takes my pulse (51 bpm, not bad) and blood pressure (82/174 - is that good?  I don't even know....), and asks AGAIN what's wrong.  As she's writing it into the computer I wonder how many other entries they have with the EXACT SAME information.  You know, what I've told the answering service twice, the nurse twice, and now the medical assistant?  She leaves, the doc comes in, and asks me THE SAME DAMNED QUESTIONS.  And guess what?  She types them into the computer.  ::sigh::  I feel like some sort of typing test - who can type my complaint the fastest with the least amount of missed keystrokes?


She has me take off my pants (hottt, yeahh) and pushes around my hip a bit asking where it hurts.  I know this is a formality, but seriously, I pointed to my hip flexor tendon, and said, "It hurts here."  Guess what?  That's the only place she found where it hurt.  Then she had me push my leg around in different directions, I suppose to see WHICH hip tendon hurt when I was using it.  Ready for the big surprise?  Yeah, there's not one.  Same result.  Good job doc.  I'm sure she just had me in to collect the fees from Anthem.  Awesome.  Way to be a part of the big machine.


She tells me she's gonna send me to PT (duh - would have walked out and taken my insurance card to another office right then and there if she hadn't), and that they would help build up the muscle in my legs and lower torso to take some of the strain off my tendon.  Sure, whatevs, hon.  Just get the script and let me put my pants back on. 


At checkout I tell the nurse what PT office I had chosen.  She assures me she'll fax them my info and they'll contact me.  I'm an impatient sort - I ended up calling them that afternoon and set up an appointment for tomorrow.  I faxed in my patient information forms, and hopefully, starting Thursday, I'll be on the road to recovery.

Nerd Herd Season 5 Playoff Game

Last night was the playoff games for NHSSC hockey. Nerd Herd was 2nd seed in the league - pretty impressive considering not two seasons ago we were happy to have ANY wins.

The previous game saw a change in officiants. Not only was "Skip," the ref for most of the season, not there, but we had TWO refs, one of which was an old highschool/hockey buddy of Mop's. The calls were very different from Skip's, whose style is akin to "Penalty! by... um... eenie-meenie-miney-moe...." It was a fun game with a lot of play, and after winning we were psyched and ready to take on playoffs.

My spirits personally fell when I saw Skip was officiating again. I mean, he seems like a nice enough guy, but he really doesn't know hockey well, and he doesn't know how to control the game. He's not confident in his calls. The worst is that our team dynamic sinks dramatically every time we feel like we get a BS call. I play on this team for fun, not to get pissed. I can't say I blame my teammates - I'm rarely a victim of a bad call. But I knew our play would suffer for the bad attitude.

Still - pre-game milling was good. Team seemed in high spirits as we watched the first playoff game finish up between Seed 1 team and Seed 4 team. It was a tight game (with traditionally bad calls by Skip), but both teams were battling hard. My Runner and I did our pre-game laps around the track; I was trying to work out a little nag in my left calf that's been hanging in there since last Friday.

(Recap penned by El Capitan at the end of the post, for those of you who are stat-minded)

We start the game out feeling great. Herd's really cheerful (and CHEERING!). My Runner gets the first goal in our first shift. It was great. Unfortunately the other team brings it back and scores two on us. We get some weird whistles - calls that don't make much sense, but their warnings, so ok. Moral starts to drop a bit. I miss some passes, and an opportunity to shoot.

I'm getting frustrated at myself. I'm not really contributing to the offense. I'll crash the net and not be able to get open, or get open and miss the pass, or get the ball stolen 'cause I'm not looking. I'm covering other players when they're in our zone, and I'm able to slow down or steal the ball sometimes, but overall I've become a defensive player. Not really what a winger should be. Not in a playoffs game.

I keep coming off the rink mad. This isn't really like me. Sure I know when I'm playing better and when I'm worse, but usually I can keep my head in the game. This time I had to leave the rink, take deep breaths, not sob. My Runner, bless him, keeps coming to check on me. The nicer he is the harder it is to pull my self together. I do my best to ask him to go away without being a douche - difficult to articulate when you know you'll sob if you open your mouth. He seems to get it. I breath deep a few times, wipe my face, and get back in to support my team.

When I take a high stick penalty (and I hate this because I know as my stick is coming up to my wast to catch the ball that I'm gonna get called, but I can't stop it), I'm furious with myself. The team is down by one, now *I'm* making them play three-on-four. My stupidity has caused us to be down a man at a playoffs game. As soon as the whistle blew I knew it was my penalty, I spun around and practically ran off the rink. It took everything I had not to hurl my stick in frustration but a) that would get me kicked out of the game and b) my lovely teammates were all in the way - no need to cause more harm.

This time the sobs won't stay down. Again My Runner comes to check on me. Again I send him packing; he exacts a kiss before he goes. I know I need to calm down. I have at least one more shift on the rink and I have to play fully. I'm mad at my penalty and mad that I can't get my head in the game and mostly I'm mad that I'm so freakin' mad! This game is supposed to be fun and I've preached it AT THIS VERY MATCH that we need to calm down and play our game. Way to listen to my own advice.

The rest of the game passes as I hold it all in and do my best to be present for the team. We don't win, the team is upset, and the bad calls (which robbed us of possibly two goals) has pissed of Cap'n Mop to a level I have rarely seen. However, MiniMcL's boyfriend is there from CT with his kickass camera - that means team photo time! Everyone shakes it off, congratulates each other on a great season, and smiles are (hopefully) genuine.

Unfortunately, my crankiness extends to the after-party (the waiter being a total 'tard didn't help either). I feel awful about my behavior that night... Lovely MiniMcL singing her love for me and all I could say was, "please stop." I couldn't explain that I didn't want to burst into tears at Margaritas. Face and Smarty looking at me with concern, then *getting* that that was the problem, instantly turned things around to cheer me up. I love those girls.

Despite my own personal horribleness, it's been a great Nerd Herd season. I love my team, its awesomeness and its faults. I love playing hockey. I want to work to be better. If the team can't work together to get practices organized, I've got to find a way to practice on my own. I think that's the only way I'm ever going to be satisfied (or at least have a chance of satisfaction) with my game.

OFFICIAL TEAM UNOFFICIAL RECAP:

The Nerd Herd entered the NHSSCHL playoffs riding a wave of confidence

following the most successful season in franchise history. They met a

familiar foe in the opening round, the Road Runners.

The game opened with a fired up Nerd herd squad taking advantage of an

odd man rush. Phil "Cowboy" Turbe sent Mike "Cap'n Mop" Grages running

free up the boards, and he centered it to Josh "The Cat" Robert, who

collected it and fired it home for an early 1-0 lead. Unperturbed by

the fast start of the Nerd Herd, the Roadrunners fired back, scoring 2

goals before the end of the first period to take a 2-1 lead into the

second. The Nerd Herd battled back, appearing to score the tying goal,

but it was waived off, as the referee had "intended to blow" the whistle

before the goal was scored.

The second period began with the Roadrunners expanding their lead to 3-1

before the Nerd Herd could answer back. Phil again fed the ball down

the boards to Matt "TTT" Tetrault, who was able to find Jon "Turbo"

Turcotte who took advantage and narrowed the gap to 3-2. The Herd

continued the charge as Keith "Classy" Chasse got the ball deep in the

zone, Mop collected it and found Josh for his second of the game,

knotting the score at 3. The Roadrunners again surged back, scoring two

more quick goals before Josh finished off his hattrick. Katie "Killer"

McLaughlin chipped the puck down deep to Mop, and he found Josh in the

slot. Josh rifled it home and again brought the Nerd Herd to within 1

at 5-4 at the end of the second period. The Nerd Herd again thought

they tied the game, but The officials waived it off, saying the ball hit

the post. Video review seemed to support the Nerd Herd side, but it was

not counted.

Unfortunately, that was as close as the Nerd Herd got. The Roadrunners

scored to open the lead to 6-4, and then capitalized on another

powerplay to close out scoring at 7-4. Despite their frantic efforts,

the Nerd Herd couldn't get on the board in the third period.

Too Young for a Midlife Crisis?

Ok, maybe not a "crisis," but certainly a huge but quiet shift in my life.

I've decided to take a break from theatre. Not a mini-break, not a "let's be friends" break, but a clean and hard "break me off a piece of that" kind of break. (guillotine swoosh) No more theatre.

I haven't been doing much of it lately anyways, and when I do it always feels like more of a chore than I want it to. I feel like it's taking away from other parts of my life. I like the results, I like being a part of it, but I don't want to make it a priority anymore, and I'd rather not half-ass my chosen art form.

This was a really difficult decision for me to come to. I'd been feeling mopey about my theatre projects for a while, though every now and then some new life and energy would get injected. Theatre is how I define myself... or how I did. I think that's the hardest part - now I'm not sure what defines me.

I'm not sure how long this break will last, but I can guess it would be a while. I've been accepting jobs from YTP when they're offered because I do always like SOME aspect of working with that company (namely: spending time with Pocket) but now Pockets moving to bigger and better things and YTP is closing its doors. Nothing is compelling me to be a part of this art form right now, and the prospect of having more time to spend on my personal projects, with friends and family, training, and playing hockey fills me with joy.

That being said - if you're in the area please come see what my be my last project for a long while. YTP is producing an evening of short plays from playwrights we love - Lowell Williams (playwright in residence), Brian Dykstra (I'm directing his show - it's pretty awesome and I'm glad I love the script), and Neil LaBute. The shows are 12/12 at 8pm and 12/13 at 6pm. If you're interested and want more info, let me know.