Bonk, bonk, bonk...

I hate that word. Even as a word, completely disassociated with me, I hate that word. I always preferred "crash" or "hit the wall". "Bonking" just sounds too...playful, too innocent. Too easily confused for something pleasant.

"Yeah, man, I totally bonked back there."
"Really? Was it fun?"

I mean, you know, the first speaker turns and looks at the second as if they're an idiot, and the second is looking back at the first like, hey man, you're the moron who used a word that sounds like a second-grade recess game rather than the shutdown of one or more major necessary systems of your body during a workout or race. Bonk. Bleeeecccchhh!

Anyway, so I bonked today. Badly. It was not at all pleasant, though I do plan to remember what it felt like so that maybe I can get a leg up on it next time. Unfortunately, there was nothing significant about it...one minute I was rolling along, smooth as can be, all systems go, the next minute I was falling onto the sidewalk feeling as though my guts had just been wrenched from their rightful place and the world was doing cartwheels over my head. One minute I was contemplating just how far I'd run along the mesa trail and pondering the feeling I would have if I could do it start to finish and get back to Gregory's house, a full 21 miles, the next minute I was trying not to black out and feigning being fine to concerned motorists who'd pulled over to try to assist me. I eventually scrambled to my feet enough to hobble to the East Boulder Recreation Center, where, once the world stopepd spinning I was able to purchase a bagel from a machine there and sit and eat long enough to get back my legs...and my torso...and my head...and finally, nearly an hour later, was able to walk slowly back to Gregory's house where I found him not out in the car frantically looking for me, not checking his voicemail to hear I was in trouble, not trying to call me on my cell phone, but fast asleep. To his credit, I told him I'd be okay and if I really HAD been in that much trouble and had been unable to get home I would've just called repeatedly until one of the phones woke him (or, better yet, opted for a Yellow Cab), but I was too exhausted and too out of it to even give him too much crap...a few glancing blows from my overtly sarcastic tongue and then I was half-asleep cradled in his arms.

More to his credit, he was the dream boyfriend...ladies, if you're going the endurance sports route make sure that if you don't have a man who's doing them himself, you have one who can be sympathetic or at least, quiet while you're dealing with your shit. I wouldn't have wanted to come back to anyone else for sure...Gregory was concerned, curious, questioning and comforting, everything you need after a nasty workout.

The really lousy part was, it wasn't a nasty workout. It was an awesome workout, until the very end when I crashed and burned...but when that happened, it scared the hell out of me. What if that happens at Leadville? What do I do then?

Well I guess I have a good nine months or so to find out...

The Last Time I Did This...

...was wayy, wayyy back in late July or early August during my preparation for the Boulder Backroads Marathon, which I (sadly) had to skip due to a bum knee. I was in training and did a sixteen-mile run with my dad along as my domestique and then a few weeks later headed out for sixteen at the Res and ended up doing eighteen, not so bad except it pretty much defined where my knee was at...and that was, basically, not in shape to do any sort of endurance race anytime soon. I was so frustrated, especially when I saw Dr. McCarty, my orthopedic doc, and he told me my pronation wasn't so bad and that I just had patellar tendinitis and a bis of ITBS. How could something so little hurt so much? I was wincing walking downstairs, for goodness' sake. I headed into a lengthy and ill-advised bout of self-loathing that more or less culminated in my starting all over again, at least that's how it felt. Gregory gave me some exercises to do, simple leg lifts and things like that, and this weekend, after doing what seemed like a years' worth of leg lifts and short runs (<5mi each time) I set out to attempt something a bit longer.

I was going for twentyish but the wind was SO bad in Boulder I could barely breathe, and since I left late, was planning to meet Gregory at a South Boulder trailhead to finish and, oh yeah, had left the keys to both my place AND his with him, figured I'd probably better cut out a 3.5 mile loop I'd planned and head back to south Boulder, after running clear up to my hosue in north Boulder from, essentially, Gregory's doorstep. I would be down to around sixteen but would rather do a solid sixteen than be hurting on the last six, especially as I'd be running with my Ironman-in-training boyfriend, who with three weeks left before his race has somehow mutated into this superhuman with legs I would kill for and absolutely amazing form. No, really, I would. Anyway, I was stoked to be doing 10:1s by the sixth mile after dealing with straggling lungs for the past few weeks, and even more excited that when my knee hurt, I was able to modify my step to work with it, and most excited of all that it really didn't hurt all that much. Ninety leg lifts four or five times a day for the past few weeks has paid off.

I have also started to pare down my considerable gut with routine ab work and move into a better eating schedule, as well as monitor my water intake because I am the most dehydrated person on the planet. I went for a hike with the Goats today and for some 4.5 miles was really wondering if I could just start running up and down the trail. I just wanted to move. I felt really good, and I haven't felt this in a really long time. I feel more centered, more focused, and more motivated.

Because Gregory is lying in bed behind me right now giving me loads of shit about being really happy for her, I've got to put in massive congrats to Bella Comerford for her third win at IMF. It seems to have been a rough year for her and I'm really stoked that my nonchalant heroine tore it up in Panama City. Way to go Bella!!

Not only did the leg lifts and stretches I'd