I’m Thinking Out Loud about how everyone fears the unknown, a few thoughts on what a runner’s body looks like, the mysterious workings of the canine mind, and matzo brei.

Bring on the matzo brei!

You must do the things you think you cannot do.
— Eleanor Roosevelt

Are you clinging to preconceived notions?
I let the cat out of the bag, so to speak, about running a trail half marathon. In just a couple of weeks. Gulp!

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t scare me at all. It does. What surprised me the most? The number of runners who said they could never do that because they were afraid of falling.

Sure, it’s a legitimate fear. But can’t you fall on the road? It hasn’t happened to me often, but it happens, and let me tell you, the road is a far more unforgiving surface than a trail.

I could injure myself in this race, yes. I could hate every minute of it. But what if I don’t? What if I listened to all the people over the years that have assured me that running will ruin my knees?

The assumptions people make
So an older woman who doesn’t have what looks like a runner’s body walks into a running shoe store . . . yup, that was me this week. And the salesperson just assumed that I wasn’t a runner or was a new runner.

What does a runner’s body look like? I think when we think running, we think Meb. We think Deena. The naturally thin runners with few curves, often on the shorter side.

All it takes is one visit to a race to know that runners come in all sizes and shapes. And why is it that every time they measure my foot they tell me I wear a size 8? That’s correct in regular shoes, but in running shoes, I wear a size 9 — depending on the shoe, of course — and I so far (knock on wood) have all my toenails to prove that that’s the right size for me.

Looking forward to my matzo brei
In case you missed it, it’s Passover. The biggest complaint I hear about Passover is that matzo makes you constipated. There are matzo recipes for just about anything: granola, lasagna, grilled cheese (that could make a good post-long run meal, maybe).

So how do I avoid being stopped up during Passover? Just as I don’t eat a whole lot of bread normally, I don’t eat a whole lot of matzo, either. When you just concentrate on mostly whole, unprocessed foods (and don’t worry too much about the many dietary restrictions observant Jews do), it’s really not that bad.

I do miss my popcorn, although even that is something I only eat occasionally.

My favorite thing about Passover is Matzo Brei. Matzo brei is essentially french toast made with crumbled matzo; I like mine with just salt, no maple syrup or jam — jam is the traditional way. Which is kind of odd, when you come to think of it, since I prefer sweet to savory breakfasts.

I could eat that every dang morning. Maybe then I’d know what everyone is talking about. Unfortunately I like me a big plate of matzo brei. If I ate that every morning, I’d be packing on the pounds.

Matzo brei is how I fuel my long runs during Passover and I can’t wait til Sunday!

Don’t you hate when that happens?
There I am, finally with a little time to meal prep. I’m making myself a nice salad that requites a fair amount of chopping. And I’m chopping up some red onions. And realizing I haven’t put my contacts in yet. This is gonna be painful (enough time passed so that it wasn’t, thankfully).

Or how about as I’m finishing up my salad, I look outside, see that it’s drying up from our rain this morning, and realizing Lola hasn’t been out in hours (she hates the rain).

So I go get her, and Bandit, let them out . . . and of course it has started to rain again.

Looking forward to getting my life back . . . maybe
I am still not sure whether or not I will need to work on my parents’ house this weekend, and we still actually have a piece of furniture we want to take back from it at some point, but soon, anyway, I will not have to be spending a part of every weekend down there.

It seems for a couple of years, every time I thought my life would get back to normal, something else happened to disrupt it. Like Bandit refusing to get in his crate; in the scheme of things, that is small potatoes but right now it’s just adding on to the extra work in my life.

I have a feeling that it’s going to be a while before I actually enjoy a long stretch of normalness.

Come run Utah with me
Don’t forget that code crj15 gets you 15% off of your registration for the Utah Valley Marathon (your choice of three race distances). The price goes up on March 2, so register today!

I’m running the half, and quite a few other bloggers will be racing, too.

Disclaimer: I make a small amount of money if you register using my code.

Bandit update
I do not know what’s going on, only that it has me at the end of my rapidly fraying rope, because it’s been a frustrating couple of weeks. Bandit is now refusing to go into his crate in the mornings to eat his breakfast.

I have always fed the dogs in their crates (and that includes Chester). It serves a couple of purposes:

1. It makes their crate more desirable (or so I thought).
2. It prevents any fights over food (or a food-seeking cat).

I do not know what started this behavior. He still goes in (at least as of Tuesday) happily when I go out and for dinner. He’s been known to hang out in there while we eat dinner occasionally.

I’ve manged to get him in there with a little luring until yesterday, when he flat out refused. And I lost it, which of course only makes matters worse.

Did something happen to him in his crate while we were away? The pet sitter didn’t mention a problem. Was it the morning that some device (turned out to be the carbon monoxide detector) decided to start chirping just as he was eating breakfast?

All I can say is that it’s beyond frustrating and I am not sure how to get him comfortable in there again, but he needs to be comfortable in there. By the afternoon, yesterday, he was completely back to normal, and going into his crate of his own volition to search for any missing treats.

I took the opportunity to have both dogs come in and out of their crates for treats a few times, and he was happy to do so. He was waiting in his crate for his dinner. It’s only breakfast. It’s beyond bizarre!

Talk to me. Tell me in the comments:

Are you scared of the trails?

What does scare you about running?

What little frustrations drive you bonkers (or are you totally zen)?

I’m linking up with Amanda at Running with Spoons for her: