the diagnosis

So the last time I blogged, I was stuck in my apartment, slowly losing my mind and potentially on the verge of unleashing an epidemic on the state of Washington.

The good news: The test results for whooping cough were negative, and I have since been allowed to return to the public sphere.

Recent adventures in the great outdoors included my first Sounders match:

(Real football is so much better than 'Merican football, largely because I'm a huge fan of watching hot guys with amazing butts sprint for 90 minutes. Also, since everyone in Seattle is nutso for sports, you run into all of your friends at games. Hi, Belle!)

There was also Halloween:

(Gee, I bet you can't guess which pumpkin is mine.)

(Bastet. Because cats. Duh.)

And now I am in the New Jersey/New York area for a combo of business and pleasure.

(My first Big Gay Ice Cream experience. That popsicle was four flavor layers of yum.)

(I really enjoy meeting cats on my travels. In case you haven't noticed.)

However, just as a glazed doughnut cannot exist without being draped with a square of Velveeta cheese that has been melted in the microwave for exactly 20 seconds (shut up, that shit is good and I will not eat glazed doughnuts any other way), so too does good news need bad.

In other words: I have a stress fracture.

I had my bone scan on Halloween (insert some kind of skeleton joke here) and pretty much knew things weren't going to go well when I found myself in an elevator, descending to the bowels of the hospital with a man sprouting devil horns.

And when I saw this ...

... my worst fear (besides being randomly vomited on by a total stranger in a public place, of course) became reality. That big white dot in the center of my left foot? That's a fractured cuboid (a.k.a. the craptacular bone that has plagued me for years).

I can't say I was surprised -- I'd been bracing myself for the worst. But I still teared up a little and posted sad panda declarations of self-pity on Facebook and Twitter. (Especially rough today because of the NYC Marathon. Dear universe: Thanks for surrounding me with 45,000 runners. You've got a great sense of humor. Bitch.)

I'm supposed to talk to my doctor tomorrow about options. It seems he wants to put me in a boot and keep me on crutches (confession: I ditched these awhile ago because it took me 30 minutes to go one block and they made my body so sore and crooked that I thought they were more trouble than they were worth), but I have so many questions about muscle atrophy and overcompensation and alignment. I want to know all avenues and potential consequences before I commit to a method of treatment.

Also: I'd like to know if the boot comes in leopard print.

still grounded

My flight was cancelled. Again. So now I'm attempting to leave for New York on Friday. And even if I do manage to get to the East Coast, I'm not even sure the race will happen.

The upside to this: There is Halloween at home. I stocked up on a ridiculous amount of candy tonight. And now I'm working on putting a costume together.

And I do have a backup plan in case I need to look for another race. I'm not letting those 20-mile training runs go to waste!

the return to running

I'm feeling a little beat up today ...

Don't worry –- this wasn't a clipless pedal accident. It's Halloween here in the office, and the PR department went with a medical theme. I'm a patient.

And the special effects makeup doesn't stop there. Tomorrow I'm running the Healdsburg Wine Country Half Marathon in full costume. I don't want to spoil the surprise, but let's just say a lot of liquid latex is involved. Fingers crossed my face stays on for all 13.1 miles.

Speaking of races, remember the other Healdsburg half a few weeks ago? And remember how I wasn't even sure I was going to do it?

Somehow I ended up with this:

This finisher's medal means the Healdsburg Half was my 15th half marathon.

And I had thought it was going to be a DNS. That changed about 10 minutes before the start. I was wearing my running clothes and I picked up my bib, so I figured I'd go for it because I needed a workout anyway. My plan was to run seven miles and then drop out.

Mile 1 9:43
Mile 2 9:09

My hip flexor was slightly achey at first, but as I kept moving, the pain faded. And the more I ran, the more it hit me: It just feels so freaking good to be running again.

Mile 3 9:03
Mile 4 9:17

I was running with my friend and neither of us were taking the race very seriously. We were chatting, complimenting people on their socks (pink argyles!) and basically just having fun.

Mile 5 9:25

And then my friend announced he had to make a pit-stop. ASAP.

Mile 6 13:26

Nice split, huh? Clearly this was port-a-potty time. While I was waiting for my friend, I saw a few other people I knew. Their comments: "Hey, we thought you weren't going to be running today!" My response: "Oh, I'm just going to drop out after one more mile."

Mile 7 9:15

And I was going to stop. I swear. But there was nowhere to go –- no aid station, nothing. So I just kept walking. I figured I would walk until I found a suitable place to wait for someone to pick me up. But my friend stuck with me, and we just kept chatting away that before we knew it, three miles had gone by.

Mile 8 14:47
Mile 9 16:31
Mile 10 15:27

At this point my friend finally took off to run in. And even though I hadn't planned it, I started running too, because I didn't want to get left out on the course, walking and walking forever. I felt a little bad because I started passing a lot of people who looked like they were struggling, while I shockingly felt just fine.

Mile 11 9:27
Mile 12 9:16
Mile 13 9:41 (slowed down to eat pretzels at an aid station)
.25 mi at 8:01 pace

And the finish! Notice how I'm laughing and moving toward the sideline because the race announcer –- also a friend of mine –- cracked me up with a little aside as I crossed the line. (Also notice the horrible time on the clock –- new personal worst!)

Official/chip: 13.1 miles at 2:26:23 (three minutes slower than my worst time – not bad, considering how much I was walking) / Garmin: 13.25 miles at 2:26:25

So yes, with that impromptu half marathon, I am running again. And I'm really excited about tomorrow's race, which I'm pretty much just considering a long fun run. With fake blood. Hint, hint.

my note for next time

So by now, we are all sick of hearing about the pumpkin ice cream I made for Halloween. (Yes, it was my first homemade ice cream. Yes, it went over fabulously.)

But I have just one last thing to say about that ice cream: I could've made it with butternut squash instead.

That's right -- according to Jeff Cox, my favorite media contact and a fantastic food and wine writer, I could've avoided the nasty canned pumpkin altogether.

I e-mailed Jeff earlier today because I was reading Bon Appétit and the recipe for "Perfect Pumpkin Pie" called for canned pumpkin. And there was even a photo of said can. I thought it was weird that a gourmet food magazine would ask you to buy canned ingredients, so I asked Jeff if using fresh pumpkin is ever an option or if people avoid it because it's a pain to obtain or something like that. And I told him about my pumpkin ice cream and how I sort of felt like I was cheating because I used canned pumpkin. (Can you say something is "from scratch" if you're using canned ingredients?)

Jeff responded to the canned pumpkin with complete horror: " ... that stuff is ug-LEE!"

And this is what he recommended as a substitution:

Go get a butternut squash and, using a cleaver or heavy knife, split it down the middle. Spoon out the seeds from the seed cavity. Place the halves, cut side up, in a 9x12 baking dish. Add an inch of water in the bottom. Place on a middle rack in the oven at 350 F. Cook for one hour or an hour and a quarter, or until a toothpick inserted in the flesh goes in easily and comes out clean. Allow to cool, then spoon the flesh into a measuring cup and use whatever amount the recipe calls for. Use this for pumpkin pies, pumpkin ice cream, whatever. Butternut squash -- like jack o' lantern pumpkins -- is a winter squash -- but a superbly flavored and fine-fleshed winter squash.

Wish I had known this earlier. I'm a huge fan of butternut squash. (And the Winemaker's family farms butternut squash. Which makes me think this is fate.)

this is halloween

And we used the pumpkin ice cream for an ice cream pie with an Oreo cookie crust. And we drank Schramsberg Crémant. And we watched "The Bad Seed." And it was a good night.

And now I am ready for bed.