I like this particular race because there is actually a small chance . . . if all the fast plainview high school girls don't show up . . . that I can place in the women's division. And the prizes are magnificent:
|last year's prize|
I will run for meat.
But instead of running for meat, I spent this labor day weekend getting a big old shot in the back.
But, since my issues are affecting my exercise and that's what this blog is about (at least partially), I'm just going to put it all out there.
This is where this post turns into a pity party . . .
|Table for one please. |
The perk is that I drank that glass of wine
after I took this picture.
So, I've said before that my thutt hurts. People ask me, "What is your thutt?" It is the exact spot on the back of your leg where the thigh merges into the butt. For some people that might be five inches below the waist. For others, it might be ten.
If I had the butt of a twelve year old boy, I would have a nice line of demarcation between the two. I could point to it and take a picture for you. But, alas, I do not. I'm 37. I'm going to spare you the picture. "Butt" here's a good one:
I decided earlier this summer to seek professional help . . . not because my hiney doesn't look like hers but because the thutt thing is really cramping my style.
This story could go on and on, but let's cut to the chase, shall we? Turns out . . . after an MRI . . . it is a back problem rather than a hip or thutt problem.
Here is what a normal spinal column should look like:
And, here is mine:
I have a disc that is protruding . . . marginally . . . into the spinal column space and putting some pressure on the nerves that run through there.
I find this all very annoying. How is it that a back injury causes pain in my butt rather than my back? This is how it was explained to me:
Doctor: Imagine that there is a water hose that runs through your spinal column and then ends in your butt. If I turn the water on, where does it come out?
Jenni: My butt?
Now, there is a visual that nobody wants.
So, on Friday . . . before the holiday weekend . . . Oz played the role of dutiful husband and took me to get the first of two epidural steroid shots in my back.
First, I was shown to my bed where I laid and looked at the ceiling for an hour and a half.
After the wait, I was annoyed and exceptionally hungry. The guy next to me was snoring. I considered eating him.
I had two male nurses tending to me during the procedure. As I laid on my stomach with my bare bum up in the air, there was an elephant in the room.
Earlier in the week, we did 100 consecutive situps during our cross-training class. For me, the end result was not a flat, washboard stomach. Instead, it was a scab about the size of a half dollar just above my butt crack.
Since I was already baring it all, I really felt like someone in the room should address it, but the two male nurses didn't say anything about it. It's probably just as well. I would have said, "I swear it's from doing situps." And, they would have nodded and thought, "Sure it is, lady. Sure it is."
The whole thing was over in about three minutes. I looked around for the giant syringe because I wanted to snap a picture of it but all of the evidence had been removed. I guess big syringes freak most people out so they dispose of them pretty quickly.
I was given a diet coke and a graham cracker and sent packing.
Oz and I headed to the outlet mall where we had some lunch.
It didn't sit well on my stomach full of valium. So, while Oz shopped,
I spent the afternoon scouting for trash cans in case I needed to puke up my California Melt. It was one of those sandwiches that tastes better going down than coming back up.
All of the drug-induced naps that I took throughout the day on Friday really wreaked havoc on my sleep that night. As a result, I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed way too early on Saturday morning.
It was hard to get up and leave this behind . . .
But, rather than toss and turn, I got up and got ready to go to the Great Steaks race.
Even though I wasn't running, I couldn't stay home. I had a serious case of the FOMO's (fear of missing out), and I wanted to watch two of my favorite ladies cross the finish line:
|Emily and Elizabeth|
Emily sized up the competition and was sure that she had found someone that she could take:
Never one to suffer alone, I woke Easy-E up early to go with us. He found a friend from school.
And, while they took pictures of the finishers, I found the dessert table.
The girls both ran really great:
|That's an average pace of 7:11. Crazy fast.|
|Runners doing what runners do: stat checking.|
Though I didn't win any steak this year, Easy-E did try to catch us some dinner.
Like a bat.
And, real quick, because it's Wednesday, here is what I ate yesterday:
|Breakfast: Green Monster|
(spinach, almond milk, cashew butter,
plain greek yogurt, chia seeds)
|Lunch: Mixed Greens Salad|
topped with a diabetic crabcake,
mushrooms, grape tomatoes,
broccoli slaw, balsalmic vinegar dressing
and a side of hummus and celery
|Dinner: Snap pea stir fry with roasted red pepper|
pork loin and a dusting of nutritional yeast
|Dessert I: pear sprinkled with cinnamon|
(I thought that eating this would prevent what happened next
|Dessert II: Pumpkin pie.|
Some families have big family barbecues for Labor day.
Not us. We make pumpkin pie.
|I had several snacks throughout the day including this|
plate of strawberries and wasabi almonds.
Later, I had wasabi peas and wasabi peanuts.
I might have a wasabi problem.