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I never thought I'd meet a girl like you

I had planned to go to the gym and lift after work today, but it was lovely and raining when I got home, so I ran instead. 2.75 miles in 32 minutes, with no intervals. Which means the next time I run, it will be 5k.

Last December I became a person who enjoyed running. At the end of January my IT band blew up. By February lack of running had made me surly and out of sorts. Luckily, I listened to the wise advice of friends and got PT and went back to interval training. Now I can run 5ks again, and am returning to January's plan of training for a half marathon.

My tentative schedule would have me up to 13 miles in 18 weeks, and January is definitely the time of year to run 13 miles in Texas. We'll see how this goes.
Bone Palace UK
This is just to say that I'm not dead, Space City Con was a very good time, and that I have my second lesson in properly punching things tomorrow. Further updates to follow.
Valkyrie Air
I quasi-accidentally acquired a new trainer today. I was as the gym, doing my usual routine, and about to spend my last ten minutes on the heavy bag. A fitness class was using the floor, so I made sure I wasn't going to get in their way. The instructor then noticed that I have no fucking clue what I'm doing didn't have wraps, and offered to show me how to wrap my hands*. He turned out to be the ex-MMA guy who installed the bag in the first place. In between making his class do hideous lateral shuffles on the treadmill, he proceeded to give me pointers on form and technique for half an hour**. I was already feeling pretty inclined to give him money at this point, when my old trainer showed up and revealed that she's moving to California. He was well placed to catch me on the rebound.

So now I have a session on Tuesday, and will begin learning how to punch things more effectively.

* It turns out my knuckles aren't bruised and sore after ten minutes if I wrap my hands. It's like magic.

** And I didn't feel mansplained at. This should not be worthy of note, and yet...
Capitol march

Marching with stina_leicht and fadethecat, and hundreds of others.

155 lb deadlift tonight, and 75 lb bench. Progress! And the heavy bag at the gym is my one true love these days, even if my knuckles are mangled, and the gloves at the gym are officially to vile to use anymore.

Glamour and bruised knuckles

Riff & Magenta
I had plans to attend a summer solstice parade last night, and most of a Green Fairy costume assembled for the occasion. Then mmaresca informed me that The Bone Palace would be featured in a Naked Girls Reading performance. Well, dear reader, parades happen several times a year in Austin. Gorgeous burlesque dancers reading my books aloud--not so often. The reader turned out to be Zaftigg von BonBon.


After the show I blushingly introduced myself and got a glittery hug, which means that I have actually found the fabled auctorial glamour. Even awards that come with tiaras are not so glamourous.

I am suddenly incredibly motivated to finish The Poison Court.

In other news, my gym recently acquired a heavy bag. It is my new best friend. I spent ten minutes on it this morning, and now my knuckles are bruised. I want to punch things forever.

Before me you rightly tremble

This is just to say that I did a pull-up today. Two of them, in fact. Sadly, there was an hour in between those two, but hey. I did a pull up. I am officially a valkyrie. I'm also running two miles at minimal intervals. With any luck next week I'll be running 2.25 miles.

In other news, Poison Court is closing fast on 20k. And we're still in the first round of plot twists. Long book may be long. I'm also watching Hannibal, because bulletproof kink. I blame Tumblr. And also bulletproof kink.

I can stare for a thousand years

Remember when I posted metrics here? I'm not sure I do either.

The Poison Court
Words today: 528
Words total: 15,832
Reason for stopping: Out of steam, and need to move furniture around before I go to bed.
Darling: Yes, but it's a bit long.
Tyop: n/a
Mean things: A letter from your ex, unsettling surprises

I'm at that awkward stage of plotting where I need to figure out who's scheming about what, and who knows about it, and how much of what Our Heroes are being told is the truth. And I'm starting to worry that it's taking too long to get some of our antags onscreen. But that's a second draft problem.

Despite an oppressive case of mope that lasted several days, this week has been pretty damn good. I climbed like a badass on Monday, deadlifted my own bodyweight* on Tuesday, danced on Wednesday**, and today not only did I make progress on a steeply overhung V2, but I also got a real massage, which has turned my neck into something other than a twisted column of hate. And, even better, when I went in for a PT session this morning, my therapist was so pleased with my progress and with my interval running strategy that he turned me loose. So I am running again. For five minute intervals and no more than 1.8 miles at a stretch yet, but sweet fishes is that better than not running at all.

* My current, still swollen with Portland evil, bodyweight, even. This means when I shed the bloat, I'll be lifting more than bodyweight. Assuming I don't put on more muscle by then.

** Walking from my car to the club, I lost the sole to one of my boots. Faced with the option of either sitting down on the sidewalk and sobbing or ripping off the other sole and dancing anyway, I chose the latter. It wasn't even the least comfortable footwear I've danced in.

Had I but known, Tam Lin...

I have been moody and weepy and nearly anhedonic the past couple of days--stress and double-hormone PMS* are a winning combination--but tonight I went to the gym and sent a 5.10B and not one but two 5.10Ds. One of these was awfully easy, and I question the rating, but the other was harder, so hopefully at least one is legit. So I may have no joy in my life, but I am still a badass. Someday that might make me dangerous.

* My doctor wanted me to finish the round of pills I was in the middle of when I got my interuterine demon**. Saturday was my last dose of estrogen-based birth control. Now we'll see what the progesterone does.

** I really want to write a story about interuterine demons. I would also be happy to read other people's.

Apr. 17th, 2013

Valkyrie Air
Tonight I completed my lead climbing class at the gym, and am now lead certified. We'll see how well or quickly this translates to not being too petrified to lead outside. But it's definitely another step toward valkyriedom.

I'm no closer to a pull-up than I was a month ago, but my deadlift is up to 130 lbs. I will be deeply satisfied when I can lift my own weight.

I see the choosers of the fallen

Saturday was Warrior Dash, which I attended despite the last month of knee problems and my banged up arm. Compared to Run For Your Lives, it was both harder and easier. The WD trail was full of nasty hills, and of course December in Texas is a better time to run than March. But without the ever-present threat of zombies, you didn't have to run. And mostly I didn't after the first stretch. The WD obstacles were a bit more challenging, though I was disappointed we didn't get some of the cooler ones they show in promo photos.*

We did get tire grids and wet balance beams and over-unders with barbed wire and rope tunnels and chain ladders and several walls to climb over, including a wall with a knotted rope** and trenches that could be vaulted or climbed out of and fire pits to jump. So perhaps I need to shut up and be happy with my obstacles.

The final obstacle was a mud trench through which we had to swim. Reader, I have never been so filthy in my life. My bathroom has never been so filthy. Now I know what hippos feel like, except they don't have to sit in a car for an hour still caked in mud afterward.

After the race I think I can safely call myself a badass. After the race is also when I became a badass who makes poor decisions. You see, as soon as I got home I had to jump in the shower (see aforementioned filthy bathroom) and get ready to go to a SXSW show. I ate a small something immediately post race, and another small something when I got home, and drank some nasty Sports Beverage. This put me at around 1200 calories for the day.

Reader, 1200 calories is not enough after an obstacle course. Especially not when one plans to go stand/dance at a concert for seven hours. I was feeling pretty okay when I left to meet my friends for the show, better than I had after Run For Your Lives. I attributed this to not being soaked to the bone and chilled as I had been then. I met my friends, we went to the venue. The parking gods smiled upon us in a way that usually requires a bloody sacrifice. There was hardly any line and doors were to open in 30 minutes. All seemed well.

After twenty minutes standing in line in the sun, my vision went staticky, and the surf noise of an incipient grey out began drown out nearby conversations. I felt nauseous. I thought very clearly that I needed to sit down, but I couldn't actually do so. Then the world went away for a few seconds. It came back to find my concerned and startled companions holding me upright. I finally managed to sit down in a strip of shade. A friend got me water and carbs***. The venue opened (only half an hour late) and they poured ginger beer down me. Blood sugar being restored, I proceeded to dance through most of the night. (I sat out much of the Xeno & Oaklander set because my feet hurt too damn much, but there was no way I wasn't dancing through The Soft Moon's.)

So, crisis averted, right? But through all of 2013 I've been running on a sleep deficit, and wondering when I would hit the wall. Well, dear reader, I hit that wall on Sunday. I got four hours of sleep and shambled home to get ready for an evening shift at work. By noon I was too nauseous for lunch, so I took a quick nap instead. I felt a little better after that, and ate some toast. I went to work. I spent the next four hours being dizzy and nauseous and sitting down frequently. A coworker gave me her lunch so I wouldn't have to leave the store and I napped again on my lunch break. It didn't help. I was still dizzy when I got up. At this point multiple coworkers began telling me to go home. Which I eventually did.

Now I've had ten hours of sleep and am camped in bed with the laptop. My back is sore, as are my poor sunburned legs, but otherwise I think I'm alive again.

I would really like to declare Project Valkyrie a success, but I still can't do a pull-up.

* I'm still not sure about Spartan Race or Tough Mudder, but if I'm going to complain about lack of obstacles, I may have to try one of them. Next year.

** The rope wall was the one obstacle that multiple people ahead of me failed. I did not. I did, however, very nearly climb back down to kick the ass of the spectator who expressed surprise when I aced it. No mead horn for you, asshole.

*** My own poor decision making is not one of the reasons I keep nurses around as climbing and dancing partners, but maybe it ought to be.

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