Dear Universe...

You are kind of a bitch. 
Just saying. 

Sincerely, 

RBR

How the universe has dicked me over taught me important lessons recently:

Lesson 1
Order of events: Purchased ridiculously expensive iPhone 4S for hubby as a surprise Valentines Day/Next four hundred birthdays present.  Next day,  I dropped my own ridiculously expensive Android phone onto the concrete floor of my classroom (the screen shattered and went dark, never to play Words with Friends again *sniff*). Two days after that, my computer displayed the blue screen of death.

The Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha is implied.

From this I learned... Gratitude.
These are what they call "Cadillac problems'. I remember working two jobs, going to school full time and standing in the office of the mechanic's shop, looking in my checkbook to check my balance to see if I could pay the $200 to get my car running again so I could make it to those two jobs and school. I just spent almost $2000 in a week on shit I do not need I just want. I am pretty damn fortunate.


Lesson 2
Order of events: About 2 months after my husband started to FINALLY feel like a human being again post-prostate cancer treatment his liver enzymes came back elevated and it was time to get serious about the OTHER diagnosis he got at the time of being diagnosed with prostate cancer, Hepatitis C. If it is determined that treatment is indicated it will be ONE YEAR (ok, I am exaggerating it is a mere 50 weeks. Such a drama llama I am *eyeroll*) of weekly interferon injections and twice daily ribovirin. The treatment will cause bone aching flu-like symptoms, depression, and aggressive mood changes. Plus he may lose hair and have his red blood cell count drop dangerously low. Super!

He has a liver biopsy on the 28th, hopefully it will not show evidence of scarring or cirrhosis and he will not have to start this now.

From this I learned... Appreciate today.
Waiting until something happens or something is done to live your life and appreciate all the things you have is wasteful and sometimes you do not get to end one rough chapter and skip merrily off to live happily ever after. Sometimes you enter another chapter of challenges. I am not going to put seeking happiness on hold waiting for things to be different.

Lesson 3
Order of events: My run partner of many years decided to start a family and that changed our dynamic and made scheduling time together, much less any type of consistent training next to impossible. I took this harder than I would like to admit (what kind of  insecure bitch is jealous of an infant? RBR. That is what kind of insecure bitch) So I work hard to be flexible on scheduling time to be with my best friend and her son. (I even attended baby sign language with them for 6 weeks, where it was assumed, not for the first time, that I was the lesbian lover of my best friend. The instructor taught us the signs for 'gay', 'lesbian' and 'domestic partner'. Whatever. It might come in handy. You never know.) Then I got brave and got a new run partner, the recently introduced TNT Run Buddy. She was just diagnosed with a stress fracture and will be off running for 6-8 weeks. Awesome.

Her royal cuteness is TNT Run Buddy's dog, Winky. Shown here in her best sympathetic pose.

From this I learned... I don't fucking know. Possibly I am supposed to learn that I can be okay with me and my own thoughts, but I will tell you I am currently NOT ready to accept or learn that lesson. Very fucking frustrating. 

Another blog post with more sniveling. Sorry. I started therapy. Hopefully I will be less of an emo asshat soon.

I much prefer evil. It makes me feel like less of a whiny little bitch.

And because she is so damn cute and I would rather end on a high note... Lola at agility class

 She is the smallest dog by at least 50 pounds, and looks scarily similar to the squeak toys they use to rile up the other agility dogs, but look at that laser focus.

Looking for a Repairperson

I have recently discovered that my "Give a Fuck" is broken. Anyone know someone handy with that sort of thing?

Ok, maybe I did not discover this recently, per se, but as I mentioned my Give a Fuck is broken, therefore I did not really ... well.... give a fuck. But now I have noticed this lack of interest in life has crept into my work world and, frankly, I have a Starbuck's addiction and a high maintenance chihuahua to support and getting canned from my teaching job when I lack any other marketable skills seems, let's just say, ill advised.

 Andy Warhol Does Diva Dog

Probably the crux of the 'not giving a fuck' issue is that hubby is facing another health problem. It is one we knew about (actually diagnosed at the same time as the prostate cancer, but since the cancer was an aggressive form that took the forefront), but now after some not so perfect blood test results it is time to start dealing with that.

To say I am not excited about starting another medical saga is akin to saying Whitney Houston had "one too many" before deciding to slip into the tub, but it is not like you can opt to reschedule these shit storms.

I am sure I will cyber-vomit all about the specifics of this at some point, but I just cannot muster the energy to do it right now.

Running (You shocked I have been running? Me too.)

Since this is purportedly a running blog, I suppose I should give an update about that. I am currently training for San Luis Obispo Marathon on April 22 with Team in Training.

I am serving as a team mentor. I won't talk about much about Team in Training here as my blogging style (or really, my entire personality-style) is not really the wholesome, Disney-esque, do-gooder type that Team in Training usually attracts and I have no desire to sully the image of an organization that raises more money annually for cancer research than even the old uni-baller himself, Lance Armstrong ($850 million to $500 million annually respectively), but nonetheless it is what that I am doing. *shrugs* It is an endeavor ol' Beelzebub and I can laugh at when the time comes.

Beelzebub: Dude! Seriously? You thought that weak ass charity shit would offset the rest of your fucked up life decisions and keep you outta here?! HOO! That is rich!

RBR: *sitting permanently posted at the front of a flame filled classroom with unending rows of iPod clad teenagers who only look up from their text conversations long enough to say repeatedly, 'when will I EVER need to know this shit?' and 'This is so gay!' The later of which makes my head spin 360's before exploding*

*after my head regenerates* Whatever, Lord of the Flies, at least my name does not mean 'pile of shit'.

I also have a new run buddy. LA Run Buddy is still my best friend in all of the world, but new babies make things different. I am 42. This is not my first rodeo. Being the childless by choice friend of new moms is, to be frank, fucked up, but she is worth it and this little guy...

 MQ at the park

..has kind of stolen my heart. I still do not feel the need to own one of my very own, but he is pretty great ... [qualifier alert] for a baby.

Yes, yes, I am an asshole. We have covered that. Moving on.

Anyhoo... In the tradition of my super distinctive monikers, I shall dub my new run buddy, TNT Run Buddy (I considered 'New Run Buddy', but that was lame even for me). She hates distance running and I hate speedwork. Her job is to help me run faster at track practice and my job is to entertain her during long runs, so that she does not want to swallow her own tongue.

So far we have run up to 13 miles together and she has not leapt in front of traffic to get away from my constant chatter, but she is continually UNimpressed with my lack of anything resembling speedwork at track practice.

Whatever. At least I am running.

A Seriously Belated Race Report: Portland Marathon - October 9, 2011

 Stats*:

Total Distance: 26.85 miles (lot's of bobbing and weaving early on. Totally my fault, but I will get to that)
Total time: 5:42: whatever...like the seconds matter at that point. (Not a personal worst and I did not actually barf up a lung, so we are taking it as a 'win')
Total text messages sent from the course: 10 or 12 (there may have also been an email or two outlining the numerous reasons why this marathon was a remarkably BAD idea, how this would be the last motherfucking one of these things I do, and finally to whom to distribute my meager belongings as I certainly would not survive this, quote, "Goddamn sufferfest.")

*short for 'statistics', which this information really does not qualify as since 'statistics' implies there is some sort of analysis of the numerical data. Alrighty then,  for the statistical purists out there, here's some analysis: if you take the total time this run took and divide it by the total distance I traveled, you get a really, really fucking slow ass pace. Voila! Statistics!


Pre-Run

Originally when I signed up to do the Portland Marathon my Run Buddy (whom I have not run with for over 3 years) said she was going to train for and run it with me. However, not super surprisingly, she decided pretty early on in the training that a marathon is, indeed, a very, long fucking way and that she did not want to do that. What can I say? I am drawn to smart people.

Then LA Run Buddy, fresh off the endorphin rush of a 41 hour labor, said that she and her son, who would be at that point  five months old, would come up to Portland with me (For the record, I knew that was INSANE and that she was not going to be able to make it. I just let her say it. It is both cruel and futile to argue reality with a woman that just spent 41 hours of grueling labor to only end up being slashed open from stem to stern to remove the baby that obviously had NO intentions of coming out his own.)

Gratuitous picture of MQ aka the cutest baby on the planet!

Needless to say I headed up to Portland without any of my peeps. I was thinking, "This is not my first rodeo. I can run a damn marathon by myself." I was not super right about that, but fortunately I had a last minute pinch hitter that came out from Minnesota to cheer me on. That proved to be very much appreciated as this marathon has been renamed by me from the Portland Marathon to the Piss and Moan Marathon.

The Run 

The organizers of the Portland Marathon deemed that anyone that was going to take 6 hours or more to complete their course was a "Walker," which honestly I think is kind of bullshit because other than race walkers I dare anyone to walk a full marathon in 6-6:30 hours. Whatever.

Race day morning, I walked to what I am certain was Northern Seattle to join my peeps in corral W (FYI: The other corrals were labeled  A, B, C, D, and E. The  'W ' label seemed somewhat punitive and just to MAKE SURE that everyone knew you were  NOT, in the esteemed opinion of the Portland Marathon, a runner. Yeah, fuck you too, Portland) 

Helpful Marathon Tip: If you are a runner (albeit a slower than sloth snot runner) and you have been placed in the corral with the ALL of the walkers for a HUGE marathon, get your ass up to the front of the corral. I am so used to seeding myself in the back of the pack that I automatically did so and I spent at least  the first 4 miles weaving through and around bands of walkers stretched 5-6 people across, seemingly arm in arm.  *sigh* And really, I had no one to blame but myself. I was in their wave and had self-seeded in the very back.

Miles 0-5

Once our corral got in position for them to start us, it took me almost an additional 30 minutes to walk from my place in the corral to the start line. This should have been a clue to me that I was not positioned correctly in this wave, but I milled along in bovine-like bliss until I finally crossed the mat and then spent the next hour or so cursing all of humanity and internally screaming disparaging things about the size of people's asses in front of me that would have, and should have, gotten my very own fat ass summarily kicked had they been uttered aloud.

What I did not know is that this would probably be the most enjoyable part of my run.

Miles 6-11

Yawn.

Like, stab yourself in the pancreas to break the monotony type "Yawn."

Seriously, Portland, change this part of the course.  I hate to be critical of a race course, but I have to believe there are more interesting ways to carve out 26.2 miles in Portland. The HAS to be.

 This bus was stuck out in the middle of nowhere playing music trying to cheer runners up. Doesn't the man looking up stock quotes on his iPhone look "cheered" up? 

Miles 12-16

This section of the run, while not actually the most miserable, was definitely where there was the highest likelihood of  my quitting this run.

 Race walker that dropped me like a used condom at mile 14. Yeah, it stung a bit. 

I have yet to walk off a course, but I will tell you that out on the stretch between miles 13 and 16 I was texting my friend asking "Jesus Christ on a pony, I am only halfway? Just what the fuck do I have to prove? I have run 12 of these damn things!" And telling her I was almost at the point of offering passing motorists sexual favors for a ride back to the finish if she did not come get me.

She did not come get me.  

No motorists where propositioned. (To be fair, none stopped. I should have worn a cuter outfit. Lessons learned)

I kept running

well, running-ish.

Miles 17-23

Now, THIS this was the most miserable section of the run. There was a brief moment of happy at mile 17 as I got to run over a cool bridge, but for the most part this section was the type of misery most people associate with running marathons: It hurt, it was boring, I hated EVERYONE, and there was no end in sight.

 Cool bridge at Mile 17

At mile 19, there was the first on course food option. They had what appeared to be an 11 year old girl holding handfuls of pretzels out to runners. The poor little thing looked terrified as runner after starving runner practically gnawed off her fingers to get to the salty carbs.  For the record, I told her I loved her and that she was my favorite person in the universe. That did not creep her out AT ALL I assure you.

Some kind spectators (and I have to say that the neighborhoods the marathon ran through for miles 18-21 had some really kick ass spectators) were giving out candy corn. I usually hate candy corn, but at mile 18 of a miserable fucking marathon they were sweet, sweet ambrosia.

My only regret is that I had but a mere two hands with which to hold my cache of these tasty delights.

At mile 20, I texted my friend to say, "Sub 6 not going to happen. God help you if you do not have Starbuck's at the finish."

Aren't I a gem? She flew out from Minnesota for that kind of sweetness! 

Miles 23-26

If I keep moving forward eventually this damn thing will end.

At mile 25.5 ish I saw a Team in Training teammate who is possibly one of the most goodhearted people you would ever hope to meet. He had finished LONG before and was out cheering on people like my ungrateful ass.

My comment to him as he said, 'Looking strong. You are almost done..." or some such NOT helpful tripe:

"You! Standing there with your medal, all finished and shit, if you really want to help grab that balloon arch and move it closer! THAT would be helpful."

This was about the time when a, at the very least, 75 year old race walker (Yes, I said race walker. Fuckers haunted me at every turn at this damn race)  that I had been leap frogging with for the last 8 miles passed me for good. He said, "Gottcha, Girlie!" (It is not a well hidden secret that I am not above taunting and mocking people, young and old alike, in races . We had been bantering back and forth for miles now.)

I tipped my pink, Puma run hat to him and bid him adieu. There was no fight left in this dog. The septuagenarian had won. Possibly a new race low.

Wait, I was once beat by a one armed man in a triathlon swim... 75 year old race walker or one armed swimmer? Tough call.

Anyhoo.... I digress

Eventually, 5 hours and 42 minutes after I started this marathon I finally crossed the finish line. Once I was done. I was done.

 Finish line pic that a WAY bored MN Buddy took waiting FOREVER for me to finish. I think she was secretly convinced there was NO WAY it could take me more than 5 hours to finish and ended up waiting a long time. 

Usually after a marathon I feel pretty good. I am not really a "Leave it all out there on the course" kind of girl, so I was a little taken aback by the next course of events.

I kind of slept walked through the finishers corral with volunteers wrapping me in a mylar blanket, putting a medal on me, giving me a finishers shirt (nice touch), two additional medals in velvet pouches (WTF? Maybe nix the additional medal things and get some food on the course, just sayin'), I somehow had the wherewithal to grab some baby snickers off the food table (I really think that is an autonomic response for me, similar to breathing. See Snickers. Grab Snickers. Eat Snickers. No conscious control is needed) but as I meandered through the crowds I started to slow WAY down and feel somewhat not ok.

I called my Minnesota buddy and started whining about the location of my Starbucks. Then all of a sudden I had the overwhelming urge to sit down, which I did. On the curb. I was officially D.O.N.E with forward motion for a while. I realized I was bonking. Hard.

I ate the Snickers I had stuffed in my run bra. (Yes, I am the asshole that takes all the Snickers from a candy bowl leaving none for others. Sue me)

Then I felt all sparkly.

Then I was pretty sure I was going to throw up.

My buddy, getting worried, called me and I told her I was sitting on the curb at 3rd and Salmon and to please come get me (with the Starbucks of course). Fortunately, by the time she arrived I started feeling better and did not ask her to carry me back to the hotel, which frankly had crossed Princess RBR's mind. She did have coffee and I told her I loved her and asked her to marry me, which cracked up the lady who had also boycotted forward motion and was sitting next to me telling her husband on the phone where to come get her and that she would like a Starbucks. 

It was not my worst race time, nor was it the most undertrained I have gone into an event, but it was my worst attitude during a race and I was unhappy with myself about that.

I do this to have fun. I need to recapture the fun.

So what does one do after a particularly bad marathon? Well, if you are RBR,  you sign up for two more!

January 15, 2012 Redding Marathon

April 22, 2012 San Luis Obispo Marathon 

I have decided to end all posts with a Lola picture because she is fucking ADORABLE!

Race Report: Moo Cow Half Marathon - September 18, 2011

Yes, you read that right, I actually did a race. Of course if you have been reading this blog for more than 3 minutes you know that I do not "race" per say. I am a running purest purist (Damn you, SQ! Of course, SQ making me feel stupid is like Kate Moss making me feel fat. Meh. Does not even register)

It is not the competiton that draws this moth to the running flame it is important things like: cute t-shirts, good post race food, and pretty locales.

I rarely, if ever, "race" because when I do it becomes obvious that I will still lose to everyone and that is not good for my self esteem. 

Stats

Total Distance: 13.23 miles
Total Time: 2:48:54 (whatever)
Total Climb: According to Garmin 2100 ft (That is too much. Garmin is always wrong, but it was significant. I need to find a good GPS data cleaner. If anyone knows one, please let me know.)


Pre-Run

Thursday my buddy Penny sent out an email saying she had a registration for the Inaugural Petaluma Moo Cow Half Marathon and she would not be able to make it up from LA to run it and she asked if anyone wanted her bib. I had a 10ish mile run on the schedule this weekend that was not super jazzed about running alone and the race has a cute logo, so, yes, I was interested!

However...

Truth be told, for all my f-word slinging, trash talking, bravado I am a rule follower. I would love to say I am one of those devil may care, stand up against The Man non-conformists, but in actuality, if the sign says "Do not walk on the grass" I will not walk on the grass. It is not born of some deep moral convictions, it is because I do not like to get yelled at. Especially when I am wrong.

Anyhoo...

The race said no transfers of registration, so I would have impersonate my friend to get the bib on race day. And that is what I did.  

Apparently a cute cow logo will make me throw caution to the wind and become the rebel of my dreams.
I envisioned the woman at the packet pick up shouting IMPOSTER! and two goons clad in Moo Cow gear hauling me away from the table in shame, threatening to call my mother and tell her what a horrible, dishonest daughter she raised.

In reality, the gal handing out numbers at packet pick up could have given two shits if I said I was Oprah Winfrey at registration. As long as the name I said was on the list, she would gladly hand me a number.

 Love her. Do not speak ill of Oprah. It only makes me mad. 

The rebel high has worn off and I am worried about getting my buddy in trouble. so I am 'pinking' out the number. I am aware that may cost me some bad ass points.

The Run 

The temperature was downright perfect, the race was well organized and the town of Petaluma (while smack dab in the middle of fucking nowhere) is really cute and (barring some asshole drivers on the roads, both of the redneck and non-redneck variety) filled with really friendly folk.

 Race start. I love the cow print balloons. 

There was not as much cow spirit on this course as one would expect. I imagine that is because it was the inaugural race, but there was one group that had the cutest cow ear headbands replete with stuffed cow tails that I did not get in the picture. Boo.

So damn cute! The one dude in this picture was leap frogging with me for the first half and then dropped my ass in the second half. I LOVED seeing his shadow with his cow ears flopping as he came up behind me. It made getting passed (and eventually dropped) a lot easier.

The course was pretty, but not breath-taking, unless you count the 'bovine bouquet' Petaluma is known for.

 Horrid example of the pretty, but I find it harder to take photographs on road races. I get all self-conscious and shy. Yes, I said, 'shy.' Shut up. 

Requisite picture of cows. Most of them where too far away for any really fun photo ops.

Another fact you should know about the Petaluma Moo Cow Half is that it is hilly. Not trail run hilly, but certainly enough to get your attention.

A couple of these hurt. A lot.

I met a great gal from Santa Rosa that was faster than me, but her knees were shot so she was walking the uphills (what a coincidence! Despite the fact that my knees were fine, so was I!) I do so love that I have to depend on the injuries or abject misery of other runners to get running partners as slow as me in races, but I usually find someone to run with.  We ran the second half together and played the "races you have run" name drop game. And were able to come in at 2:48:54. Not a PR by any stretch, but for a last minute, hilly race, the weekend after a 20 miler on concrete and asphalt, and an insane work schedule, I will take it! 

Thanks, Penny! I owe you one!

And for your viewing pleasure...

A Lola burrito!

For lack of something better to say...

I have been at a bit of a loss for words as of late. I am not sure what to attribute that to, but the shitstorm of the last 2 years certainly has not helped. I have wanted to update anyone that cares, or anyone that does not care, but has nothing better to do than read my ramblings, where I have been lo these last 2 months (it has been pretty boring in RBR land, so I thought I would jazz it up with a dramatic interjection. And yes, I had to look up what part of speech 'lo' qualified as because I know almost no one that knows that. )

Life without Lucy

It has been even more difficult than I anticipated. I knew it would be awful and a huge void in our lives. I knew that the loss of her presence would be crushing. I just did not think I would fucking fall apart, but this is not about that.

This is about poor Lola having to step up into some pretty big shoes and, really, the little shit has fallen short on many fronts. (Didn't see that one coming, did ya? You thought ol' RBR had gone soft on you)

 She is, however, A-DOR-ABLE!

Areas Ms Lola is just not cutting the mustard:

1. Trail dog:  We have given up the ghost. She hates it. She is not suited for it and I am tired of other hikers saying, "Gosh. She looks really unhappy." She is more a 'go to the park twice a day, nap on the couch in between' dog.

Please try to ignore 1. the huge, hideous, 1984, 'dusty rose' sectional couch my parents gave me in 1995 when they could no longer stand it and  2. the fact that I am wearing frog pjs in what is clearly broad daylight.

2. Traveling dog:  This role is work in progress and while she loves to be new places, it is the actual trip in the car that is the sticking point. We have even purchased dog specific car seats for her that cost almost as much as the cars they are placed in, so that she can see out the windows.  Nevertheless, she whines, pants, and jumps out of her doggie car seat which, sadly, she is attached to, so she ends up pinned next to it by her harness, looking bug eyed, tortured, and like an ideal candidate for the next Sarah McLachlan SPCA video.

 Obviously not in the car, but sporting her very best "Save me, Sarah McLachlan" face.

Areas where Ms. Lola has been able to shine, some not so surprising and others downright shocking: 

1.  Fashionista: I do not have all of her outfits photographed (My photographer is opposed to the dressing of our dog and is passive-agressively refusing to photograph her in her duds. Hmpf!) but here are a few highlights: 

Her first sundress.

The little ruffled skirt flounces when she trots at the park. To Die. For. Cute.

One of her three hoodies. Salmon looks a little disapproving. He is a judgmental little fucker.

2.. Hangin' with the girls at the 'bucks: She is all about getting gussied up and soaking up the small dog love at the local Starbucks. 

She is a hit at Starbucks. 

3. Agility: Yes, you read that right. I signed my prissy little dog up for agility class. It is great for building confidence in shy dogs. She went to her first class last night. When we arrived she was the smallest dog BY FAR. Ms. Lola was a tad concerned and frankly so was I. I figured we would gut out one class and if she hated it we would not subject her to the terror of the wild ass dogs that are good at agility, but I sure as shit would not want living in my house.

Not so sure about this

But after we got started she was a total rockstar! She was the best at circle running and the teeter and we even got a really shitty cell phone picture of her jumping! 

She even went over it at the top rung *smug grin*

Marathon Training

Believe it or not I have been running. I did a 20 miler with TNT last weekend and I am getting ready to head to Portland on October 8th! This will not be a fast marathon, but I know I can pretty comfortably finish it. It feels good to be doing distance again, but my consistency is not really where I would like it. Seems like a meager update for a "running" blog, but there you have it.

Weight Watchers

Or as I like to call it my weekly humiliation. Eddy is, as one would have guessed, a total fucking ROCKSTAR at losing weight. I try to be gracious about it, but I tell you it makes me think very bad, very prosecutable thoughts when I step on the scale after he has lost 3 pounds in a week and I have gained after running 26 miles that week and eating my 29 measly ass points.

He has lost 23 pounds.

I have lost 9.6 pounds.

He looks amazing (granted that is a 'win' for me too, but focus people, I am on a rant here.)

I look the same.

I decided to be 100% honest about my weekly trials and tribulations of WW in this graph of my actual weight loss to date. I do this because: 1. I want to give hope to women in their 30's and above that are trying to lose weight and are struggling with the ups and downs of the scale, both deserved and not and 2. I am avoiding grading and an excel spreadsheet is an excellent way to do that. We always hear the end result and say, "wow, that is so great! Why can't I do that?"

What is inspired me to do this was a woman that talked about it taking her 2 years to lose 25 pounds and that she has kept it off for 10 years now. People may be discouraged by that, but as a chronic yo-yo dieter for over 20 years now it sounded, well,  real. I have NEVER maintained a weight. I always in the process of losing or gaining.  I am not trying to regain some mythical bikini body, I just want to fit in my clothes, be comfortable in my own skin, and stay healthy. So here it is. This annotated graph represents the last 12 weeks and  $132 on WW:

Race Report: Golden Gate Trail 1/2 Marathon - July 23, 2011

*I want to thank everyone for your heartfelt support and kindness at the passing of my beloved Lucy.  I have another post in mind to address that, so this will just be a race report. But please know I am very, very grateful to you all.*  

For those of you that have missed the old RBR that would religiously do runs that she was wholly unprepared for and had no business running, fear not, she's back.  

And yesterday you could find her fat ass huffing and puffing her way up the California coastline at  the Coastal Trail Runs' Golden Gate Trail 1/2 marathon. 

Details

Total Distance: 13.1 miles
Total time: 3:13:42 (check out the elevation profile Mr/Ms Judgey Pants!)
Total Elevation gain: 2946 ft.

Pre-run

I decided to do this run because Team in Training's scheduled long run was on The Los Gatos Creek Trail which is a very popular local trail that I happen to run or ride on almost every freaking day. The thought of running 12 miles while following the TNT no headphones rule and running alone (since I am a loser and have no friends on the team, but that is a whole number post) did not sound fun.

Especially since, all the while,  I would be dodging the nine million other trail users, their double wide baby strollers,

Full Disclosure: Pic stolen from a Stroller Striders website, which is an exercise class for new moms. They are actually very respectful of the LG Creek Trail and do their workouts very early before the crowd hits. The ones that piss me off are the random, double stroller family that usually only has one kid in the goddamn thing and weaves across the trail at the highest traffic times and if you say "on your left" to get them to move over so you can pass they look at you as if you tried to run over their precious spawn.

their dogs on flexi-leads that are stretched to their max across the trail,

 This image is actually from the WARNING insert for the Flexi-lead product itself.

and asshat cyclists in their full riding kits that think it is SUPER COOL to ride 25 mph on the fucking bike trail on a Saturday.

This was NOT taken on the Los Gatos Creek Trail and this guy is NOT, to my knowledge at least, an asshat. But I know some others that wear that same uniform in my area that are. Just saying... 

So, yes, less than appealing to do a long run there this weekend.

The Golden Gate Trail run was put on by Coastal Trail Runs which is one of my favorite race organizers. Their races are well run, organized, always held in beautiful locations with well marked courses, and they have a high tech shirt option (yes, you have to pay more for it. I am fine with that) and their shirts are cute.

Cinderella, Diablo, and Golden Gate shirts from Coastal Trail Runs

Here were my concerns about this run:

1. A half marathon was longer than my scheduled 12 mile run and, frankly, I was worried about getting the 12 miles done.

2. This is a trail run and all of my training this summer has been on flat roads. I have not run a real trail run in over 5 months.

Heh heh. I am sure it will be fine.

 

The run

The run start was at Rodeo Beach which is part of Fort Cronkhite in the Marin Headlands. It was cool, and overcast which is almost redundant to say about the Marin Headlands because it is rarely anything but. I met a gal that was running the full marathon and we chatted about local races that we had in common. She is going to do the San Francisco Marathon next weekend.

Me says: Wow. That is cool.

Me thinks: *sigh* I used to be that girl. I am not that girl anymore. I am not even fit enough to run this half marathon.

We head up the trail with pretty views of the ocean

Rodeo Beach. Lots of surfers today. Foreshadowing for the wind we would encounter along the ridge.

We climbed...

Pretty Cove whose location coincided with my need to stop running and stuff my lungs back into my chest so I snapped a photo.

and we climbed...

Those little white dots waaaaaay up ahead of me are people. Current distance traveled: 0.25 mi. Gonna be a long day for RBR.

Just when we thought we could not climb any more, the good people of Marin gave us some help in the form of stairs....

Lots and lots of stairs

I sure hope I at least get to shake hands with God after all of this climbing. I am just saying...

 Another lung stuffing moment = another photo op. Not even a mile in yet. Yep, a long, long day.

Then...

Nope, not at the top yet. 

More fucking stairs....

RBR Rule: Making the stairs pretty, does not negate the fact that they are still fucking stairs

But after those stairs we were finally at the top of the first climb

Elevation profile. Hell of a first climb in less than 2 miles, don'cha think?

After that climb there was a very nice runnable (read: downhill) section. It was the kind of descent where you kind of forget you are old, fat, and out of shape. 

 Action shot. Happy to be running not hiking.

It was also one of descents where you forget that you still have over 11miles of trail to go or, you know, you might want to be able to actually walk the next day.  (Spoiler: I finished the run, but walking today is not going well)

At the end of the first long downhill we ended up in Tennessee Valley and the first aid station. I noticed some "bees" around the cliff shot blocks and then preceded to get stung. Instantly realizing it was my arch arthropod nemesis: a stupid, fucking yellowjacket! Sadly, my reaction offended one of my fellow runners:

RBR: Ouch! Fuck! 

Self-Righteous bystander: My! Such language. What would your mother say? (said in that "joking" tone, that you know means they are not really joking.)

RBR: She would probably deny knowing me (said in same faux joking tone)

Friend of self-righteous bystander: *as she gets stung by yellowjacket* Ouch! Damn! 

RBR: *smirks* What would your mother say? *laughs at faux joke number 2*

Self-righteous bystander: *fake laugh or disapproving snort, hard to tell* Well, you have to admit, yours was worse.

RBR: I don't know. I would rather be "fucked" than "damned," but maybe that is just me. *shrugs*

Apparently I took the faux joking too far. She did not want to talk to me after that, but I made an aide station volunteer laugh.  

Moral of the story: Humor is in the eye of the beholder. or Mind your own fucking business. One of the two.

Anyhoo... back to the run

Heading back out on the trail we started the second big climb of the day. It was a long, boring fire road that climbed FOREVER and crushed my will to live. But at the top, we were treated with a tree lined trail that, when coupled with the heavy fog, created a mini rainforest trail.

 The girl that looks like she is out for a Sunday stroll in this picture beat me. *sigh*

Then later, more of the dense coastal scrub with wildflowers

The fog had come in pretty heavy and the wind was whipping, but it was so beautiful.

Shortly after this picture was taken (around mile 10) I started to suffer in the "how badly do I have to injure myself to get airlifted out so I don't have to run anymore?" way and the picture taking stopped for the most part.

Overall, I am happy with how I ran (and hiked). The distance and difficulty was a stretch for me, but it was beautiful and rejuvenating. There were several miles out there that reminded me how much I really love doing this.

I even had hard earned trail dirt at the end

Don't zoom in too much or you will see my lack of shaving. I was fairly certain that I was not going to get laid on the trail today so I saw no point.

If you are ever in the area and are looking for a great trail to run on I highly recommend this one. There is some hiking involved but lots of runnable sections and the scenery is so beautiful you will almost forget how much the climb hurt. (Click to enlarge)

 Coastal Trail Runs always marks their runs really well,so I did not get lost, but I think this park is well marked and with a map you could recreate it. Well, you probably could I couldn't.