Smokin'

I haven't felt like writing, which is odd after a race in which I, for the first time ever, paced myself. I mean, I've had other races where I "paced" myself at basically my slow long-run pace. I've done triathlons where I ran the run portion in what I expected to run. I have never run a race like I did 3M. I did it by myself (my pacer fell ill), and I did it 2 minutes faster than my goal.

But I just didn't want to blog this week. Elation lasted into Monday, and still I had no desire to blog. Every time I thought about this blog, I got itchy and irritated. Sunday afternoon I was excited to list my split times and talk about the race. I will write about it later to preserve my memories before they fade into grocery store runs, school activities, spelling words, 100th day projects, Jane Austen novels, appointments for this and that, flu virus, fever virus...

Fevers. Maybe my peevishness sprouted from my children and David being very sick for days and days. Somehow, I escaped it. I erected a 3M shield to block any germs or negative thoughts of germs and said the shield could collapse at noon on Sunday. Well, shields are holding even through a week of serious illness at the preschool I work at. Children and teachers galore are out sick with Type A Flu (of course the flu that can get you even if you got the flu shot). In fact, our school is closed today due to so many teachers having the flu. There simply aren't enough of us healthy to fill the classrooms. Somehow, my shields are still holding. I wonder if vertigo sends out a barrier bubble or something?

So my kids were sick. David was really sick. I've never seen him that sick. It was very strange going to a race and never once seeing him or my kids. I knew I wouldn't see them, but it was still odd. There was no one to take a picture of me on the course (other than crappy Sport-Photo people). The only candid shots I have are the ones Sundeep took of me, Gayatri and Barb before and after the race. Ah, but after seeing the Sport-Photo ones, I probably don't want a candid shot afterall.

Fevers are gone. Family is healthy...mostly. I'm not sure David is healthy, but he's getting there. I think Familyvance is looking forward to Spring. Blessed Texas is sure to deliver.

Smoking. I have been wanting to write about smoking. I grew up with parents who smoked. In fact, my mom may have smoked while pregnant. I disliked the smoke growing up, but I've grown to despise it. I can smell cigarette smoke a mile away. I smell it in my car if the person driving in front of me is smoking. That startles me as I'm wondering where it's coming from. I hate going to my mom's house now even though she has tried so very hard to cut back on smoking in the house (and cut back in general). The smoke hangs on everything. Everything reeks of old, dank smoke. If you walk in her house even for a few minutes, your hair and clothes will smell like smoke - and she doesn't even have to be smoking at the time.

I need to say here that she has gone to great lengths to remedy that b/c Familyvance stopped visiting. She washed curtains and smoked outside, etc. It's much better now, honestly. Although, I still can't stand the smoke.

Gayatri and I smelled smoke on the trail Wednesday during our 4-mile easy-effort tempo (or recovery run, whatever you want to call it). I looked everywhere, craning to see who the f-dash-dash-dash was smoking on the hike-and-bike trail. I could not see the person, so I don't know how far away the culprit was. It fired up my peevishness, and I ranted for a good half-mile about smoking. Poor Gayatri.

Here's an interesting thing I heard Dr. Oz of Oprah fame say the other day: Children growing up with smokers basically are "smoking" 1 in every 4 cigarettes their parents smoke. Hmm...if that is true, I grew up "smoking" since I was born - maybe 1/2 a pack a day? Isn't that a staggering statistic? I don't know how he got that number. We've always heard that second-hand smoke is horrible, and I've inhaled tons of it.

I've often wondered why I have trouble breathing when I run "fast." Sometimes it's due to being out-of-shape. Other times perhaps I'm pushing too much. But over time, it's consistent. No matter how much I've been running and training and doing speed-work, I still have trouble breathing...more so than it seems my counterparts. I watch runners excel doing the same amount of running that I do. I know genetics plays a huge role, and I know I'm not genetically inclined to be a runner (made for comfort!). I just wonder if all that smoke for 18+ years affected me. I know really fast runners who grew up with smokers, too. So who knows.

I look forward to the day when smokeless cigarettes are invented. If people want to smoke, good for them. I just don't want to smoke with them.