Ah, the rare and coveted sighting of the midweek workday post!

Actually, it's not such a work day because I am (*Cough, cough*) using what is known as a mental health day. I have nothing pressing scheduled for the rest of my work week and the meet weekend was physically and emotionally exhausting, so here I am, just before 10 am on a Tuesday, writing a blog post and getting prepped for a nice trail run. Next year I'll know to ask off for the Monday after, but having been a JO National meet virgin this year, I was not forewarned.

In other news, it's pushing 80 degrees already. I know I whined and complained about the endless cold spring rain, but now is the season to complain about the heat, so there it is.

Everyone is home, and I am apparently cramping their style.

I bought Little Duff this.

Kara Goucher said the marathon distance is still scary.

*Edited to add: Little Duff did not qualify, and in fact did not even PR after all. He has been assigned summer homework of 40 meter wind sprints and watching Galen Rupp on You Tube until indoor season. Now, back to your regularly scheduled, "My mom runs road races, not track and field" programming.

Today is round two of THE BIGGEST TRACK MEET EVER! Um, maybe not ever, but in the Duffy's short track career, at the very least. It ain't no Tyson Gay at the nationals, but it does result in lower back pain from sitting in the bleachers all day (note: I am old. Little Duffy did not develop any back pain. Big Duffy, though, is now sporting a mighty fine sunburn - which he obtained from under a tent. Some people are just too Irish for their own good.)

Little Duff Pr's but still came in last in his 400 semi yesterday, but he is not at all disappointed and in fact came out of it with a big sit-eating grin because he took another second off his last meet time. Today is the 800. There are only six kids in his age group, but they are all significantly faster, ie., the next slowest one qualified four seconds faster than Little Duff did. Top four go to the junior olympics in Iowa. I would never tell him this, since he's all into the sportsmanlike conduct, but I'm praying for one of the kids to have the flu or trip and fall or something disastrous. Yes, this makes me an evil person, and possibly a good candidate to be Tonya Harding's best friend. Actually, I don't wish that on anyone, because seeing a little bantam level 100 sprinter fall at about the 50 yesterday was really shocking and sad.

Anyway, here's to Little Duff running a 2:50! It won't win a spot, but it'll make him mighty happy.

Drumroll, please... (da da da da da dum) I was correct! My sad achy painful right leg was, in fact, due to my orthotic. 2 days sans orthotic = a much happier right leg. But, my foot now hurts.

Why did I pick this stupid sport?

(I mean that in the happiest of "I just avoided an injury! Hooray" ways.)

Ah...it's a leisurely, no work, sick husband (sad), child off to school, relaxing Monday...

So, I finally did bang out 8 miles yesterday. And of course, it started to pour right at the start. But I was concentrating on my foot strike and posture and blah blah blah (did I mention I've been reading Chi Running again?) and it wasn't so bad. I keep thinking this leg pain thing is in my form - it feels like maybe my ITB? - but it occurred to me this morning, as I walked Miko for almost two hours, that it could be my orthotic. It's changed my footplant so that I almost supinate now instead of pronating; there are no issues with the left leg, but on the right, the whole leg almost feels shortened when I run. I've heard about this before, so starting tomorrow, I'm experimenting with no orthotic on the run, only to walk around (they're supposed to be for my burgeoning bunions rather than the arches, but the arches feel tight when I don't wear them for prolonged periods, like flip-flop days.)

Ah. Anatomy. I know you're fascinated.

Happy father's day, dads!

Eeeesh. I haven't run since my last post. The achey-pre-injurious nature of my tired legs led me to believe I was verging on overtrained and needed a few days; that, and I'm feeling kind of lazy. Don't worry, I'm heading out the door for some in a few minutes (since it's miraculously rain-free today) and I have tomorrow off (doctor's appointmtent, woot! Don't worry, no pressing concerns, just a routine gyn exam; I'm a fan of using the old sick time to extend my weekends, natch) so there's sure to be more then. I've shamelessly led on the New York Flyer's training program only to turn right around and fall back into Bob Glover's arms, and his base week starts Tuesday. I've come to the wise conclusion that I should probably start small rather then super ambitiously.

So I'm off for that and then to make dad of the hour some yummy turkey pesto burgers (sans grill; see possible pending rain, above). My beloved dad of my child is nursing a nasty head cold, so the celebrations are somewhat muted, if not entirely stuffy (see what I did there? Ha!). Here's to a happy dad day to you, whether your daddy quotient be affiliated with some munchkins, some pets, maybe a plant... I salute you.

PS... Little Duff's junior olympic regional meet is in White Plains next weekend, thus killing my Gay Pride race, but at least it's for a good reason. He's favoring some runner's knee, but the enfored, nazi-like insistence that he ice every five seconds seems to be putting an end to it. Wish him luck!!! Or the instant ability to run an 800 in less than 2:40, whichever is most plausible. Thank you!

Argh. I'm feeling achy and pre-injury-ey. But, I'm posting on a weekday! That's something. I'm also reading Chi Running again and had my first post-refresher run today; it was pleasant, relaxing, and made weird things sore that aren't usually. Hmph. The Mets are stinkin' up the NL East and I realized today that I can't actually do my job unless I do some considerable overtime. Sigh. BUT, I have a Trader Joe's burrito waiting for me in the oven. And that makes all the difference.

Oy! This is becoming Mrs. Duffy's weekend blog. I'll have to fix that.

In the meantime, I've finally decided on a training program! That's already started! Uh, I never said I was punctual. However, the New York Times online had a marathon feature with automatic plug-ins on calendars for numerous marathons (including, of course, New York) at levels from beginner to advanced. They included the plan I was fixing to use - the so-called "Official NYRR plan," from Bob Glover, but they also had a couple of plans from the New York Flyers club that included local races, and I was instantly hooked. I'm combining two (beginner and intermediate) to make a hybrid, i.e., I'm currently running beyond the level that beginner prescribes, but I'm a little worried about keeping up with the intermediates as they crest 50 miles per week. So that's that. Plus, races like the Queens Half and the Tuneup are already accounted for, so there's no tinkering required on my part. Good times.

Work is, well, work, and the home life is broke but happy. The Junior Olympic qualifiers for Little Duff are tomorrow, and we're in full on prep mode, with the oatmeal on the counter and the team colors laid out with pins and whatnot. I bought him croakies over the week so he could train in them prior to the meet, and the effect is an endearing combination of physics dork and athlete. Endearing to the mom, anyway.

On a completely unrelated note, I went to yet another work going away shindig last night. It's that magical season when my young, ambitious co-workers flitter away to live like kings on their accumulated vacation time while relaxing in preparation for their first semester of grad school / law school / business school (not so much, these days) or the odd new job (these are not so much either, or so I'm told.) When I first started with my agency, two years ago next week, I really, really resisted these happy hour get-together things. I had just stopped drinking a few months before, and I didn't really have any interest in watching a bunch of 23 year old wanna be Iowa hipsters get trashed in some dirty dive bar. Not so fun. But lately, I've been going, downing my tonic or seltzer or what have you, and realizing I still have that weird little euphoria buzzing around in the back of my head. That little buzz wasn't ever the booze, I guess; more the social flittery twittery aspect of running around a large crowded room and cramming as much interaction as possible into a few hours. Anyway, if it hasn't come across yet, I had fun and hope next week's (at Boss Tweed's, LES, Friday - my supervisor, architectural landscaping school) is outside, in the sun. Sun is better for seltzer-sipping.

Alright. I've gotta go do my 9 miles. I'm on a plan now, after all. Sidenote: how sad is it that I need a plan to tell me what to do? I was going for 12 today, but then I got a plan, so so more. However, left to my own devices, I'd probably be injured within a month or so, so the plan thing is probably for the best.

Whew. It's been a looong running day.

First off, the Mini 10k was this morning. It was hot. Sticky. They put sprinklers out on a couple of spots on the second half, and subbed gatorade for water at the end and at the last water stop. I walked more than usual... and actually gave myself permission not to get a PR.

Permission shermission, I got one anyway! Yeah. That's right. 1:06:50... I took off 33 seconds in about 3 weeks, in the heat. Amazing what doing the right amount of training and throwing in some speed work will do. It's still a silly time that means anything only to me, but it's a big improvement in a short time - almost five minutes off my best time for the distance in about three months. I'll take it.

(One weird thing that happened on the course - it's amazing what I'll tell a bunch of strangers on the internet, but won't even tell my family because, really, they don't wanna know - I peed myself a little. Eww! I know! But I ran under a sprinkler and it felt so freaking cold and good, and then, there it went. Whoosh! I wasn't even sure what was happening for a second. That is truly gross. Just a little. In water. Ew. I guess it's like sweat, right? RIGHT? Dear God.)

SO, big event number one down... then a dash to home, the shower, and dirty Jersey for little Duff's pre-junior-olympic-qualifier meet. He ran the 800 and he was happy with himself, but for some reason he decided he didn't want to wear his glasses, which he normally does, and he was all shaky and off-balance. Odd. His track guru coach told him your vision affects your balance. He's also got an issue with passing - like, he looks like he's got the strength and the speed to pass the guy in front of him, but then he kind of get boxed in and just can't figure out how to do it. Happily for him, I am far more concerned with these things than he is. If only I hadn't been the fat sedentary kid in school - I could have rocked the strategy aspect.

So, burgers for dinner and exhaustion now. Seriously, I could go to bed right now. And I can't get over setting the new PR. Oh - I wore my Mini race shirt to the meet, and wound up meeting the winner of the 70-74 age group in the ladies room, who, of course, dusted me. At the 10k, not in the track meet bathroom. Because that would just be weird.

Sad. Today is sad.

Well.

More accurately, today is disappointed to the verge of tears then keeping your shit together, already. That promotion I mentioned? They made the decisions, and I was apparently ranked 5 out of 13. Which is great! But not when there are only 4 slots. Sad, sad, sad. The better news is that should the budget become available for the next slots within a pre-determined time frame - 3 months is what I hear - then I get it, automatically, without going through the managerial gauntlet again. Thank God.

OK, so I was sad, I cried, and then I got over it. Hooray!

This Sunday is the biggest running day ever.

9 am: Mini 10k.

1pm: Track meet in Hackensack

6pm: Pass the hell out

I'm not allowed to run for the next 2 days until the Mini (Hal Higdon said so) but dear God do I need it. Therapy in sneakers. I'm not sure if the bike or the elliptical's going to cut it, but these sad alternatives will have to do.