MTXE

Lookin' like I may need to bust out a little Mental Toughness Xtra Effort for the upcoming Houston Marathon. Despite feeling pretty well prepared, I'm unfortunately finding myself challenged in more ways than the 26.2 miles that await me. In the past three weeks I've been to the doctor twice, once because I thought I might have developed a sports hernia, which I luckily discovered was just a strained ab muscle, and the second time to have my knee X-rayed following a run in with a door frame. On that one it turns out I have a bone contusion and it's not going to be getting better anytime soon. There's no bruising or swelling to show off, but my kneecap continues to be kind of sensitive (CORRECTION: I ran this morning and it's back to hurting like hell.) On top of that, twice in the past couple of weeks I've experienced pain in my IT band. Actually pain doesn't really describe it. It feels like someone's shot me in the side of my knee. The good news is that its happened on the exact same block both times. so I'm hoping it's just a result of the pitch of the road and is something I can just avoid in Houston. That said, I've been doing everything I can to prevent it from flaring up during the marathon—ice massages, ice baths, rolling it out with a foam roller—but if it does bother me, I'm going to call on the power of Good News, The Hometown Hero and The X-Man to get me through. Basically, I plan to keep going as long as I possibly can … and at least a little bit beyond that.

(UPDATE: After this morning, I'm not sure what to think about the upcoming run. I'm still gonna give it a go, but my optimism is fading a bit.)

They Snooki'd my salmon!

For years I have heard that fresh-caught salmon is better for you than the farm-raised variety and it has always confused me. How could it be possible that fish raised in a controlled environment could be worse for you than the ones that grew up swimming in the crap that's found in nature? Well, apparently, it's pretty simple. The farmers "growing" fish are actually feeding them even worse crap. So much so, that farm-raised salmon lacks the omega-3 fatty acids that gives its flesh its pink hue. That's right, it's actually white. What's that, the farm-raised salmon you buy at the grocery store is pink? Well, guess what, it's artificially colored. The crap these farmers are feeding their fish actually comes with a set of color chips allowing them to select which shade of pink they want their fish to be. While I'm sure it's all completely safe (no one cares about profits that much, right) I think we'll be doing a little more fishing around before we fire up the stove next time.

Inspiration

Earlier in the week I was turned on to the story of Vivian Maier, an amazing street photographer from the 1950s-1990s whose work was just recently discovered at an auction in Chicago. Not much is known about Ms. Maier other than the fact that she lived a very private life—spending most of it as a nanny to families in and around Chicago—and that she passed away in 2009 without ever showing a vast majority of her work to anyone. The guy who stumbled upon Ms. Maiers life's work claims he has at least 100,000 mostly medium-format negatives, thousands of prints and boxes upon boxes of unprocessed film roles which he's currently in the process of developing.

It's unbelievable stuff, breathtaking and incredibly inspiring.

So without further ado, he's a small sampling of the work of Vivian Maier.






A self portait.


To see more of Ms. Maier, go here. To watch a news story about her and the story of her work, go here.

Hoo doesn't like snow?

I thought our first big snow of the year would result in some fun memories of Park playing in the snow for the very first time in his life. I thought wrong. He wouldn't touch the snow. He wouldn't even move in the snow. He just stood there frozen like everything else in the yard ... except for making that face.

We did have two very excited dogs, however. Here's an action-packed three minutes of frozen owl boy not cooperating while two snow-loving dogs use their water bowl as a toy. Sad on so many levels. Enjoy.

Glutton for punishment

I'm not really sure why I do some of the things I do, deep down, I must just really, really enjoy punishing myself. If that's true, then I don't think I want to know what I did to deserve my most recent penance, because not only have I decided it's time to run another marathon, I have decided to run a marathon that has required me to train throughout winter. This alone would be enough for some to classify me as clinically insane but I think it's important to point out that: 1) I hate being cold and 2) I don't really like running.

That said, I think you can safely draw the conclusion that I'm an idiot.

Originally I was signed up to do a half, something I've done the last three years, but my brother's attempt to not only run his first marathon but also qualify for Boston must have inspired me, because for some reason I started following the full-marathon training schedule a couple of months ago and eventually transferred over my registration to the full on the last day possible.

So now here I am, committed to something that should have me committed. I've tried to brave the elements as much as I can, but most of my time has been spent inside on the track. The day after Christmas, when it was a brisk 16 degrees outside, I ran my 18-miler on a track in Kansas City which added up to 180 laps. (Below is the pitch counter I used to keep track just for verification.)


I've got three weeks yet to go, but this week is hell week, culminating in a 20-mile run that I really need to do outside, if for nothing else, to ensure my mental conditioning. To help, I've got myself some brand spankin'-new shoes.


To be completely honest, the training really hasn't been that bad. The most difficult thing has been trying to schedule my workouts around Park's schedule so that I would not only be able to spend time with him, but avoid putting more of a burden onto Carrie (who, by the way, is running the half and kicking ass despite being pulled in 1,001 directions).

But back to the initial question of why I'm doing this. Last night I finished reading Hal Higdon's Marathon: The Ultimate Training Guide and I was struck by a quote from a woman woman who had lost her husband to cancer who was asked the same question to which she answered "because I can."