Injuries and Failures

Has anyone ever noticed that when you get hurt — more than just scraping your knee or touching something too hot — you feel like you could have cancer, are definitely going to die or will never be able to move that part of your body again? Is that just me? Maybe I should Google it to get the real answers... 

Since becoming a runner, or active in general, I've noticed I have more injuries. More than I was expecting to have anyway. When I was younger, I just assumed that if you were healthy, then you were prone to less injuries. Probably a bad way to view things. In reality, working out can easily lead to rolled ankles, shin splits, torn ligaments, bumps, bruises and everything in between. And most of it is either based on using too much weight or bad form. Understandable considering most of us just hit the gym and start doing whatever workout comes to mind. That might just be a me thing too... 

But one of the major things I have noticed is that feeling of failure that goes hand in hand with injury. Somehow you've failed your body, didn't something wrong, couldn't take care of yourself properly, etc. And maybe it's the aftermath of an injury that really gets to me. The part where you aren't necessarily healed in a few days. Because then you have to live with the reality of your injury. 

The perfect post-race photo

When I had decided to run my half marathon last year, I felt that my body was ready for it. I had run six or seven miles with comfort and ease (whatever ease there is to be had when running those distances) and I was proud that I didn't feel like dying afterward. The next logical step was the half. 

Training for it was hit and miss. At that time I wasn't actively participating in "cross activities" because all I wanted to do was run. In hindsight, this might have helped me in a myriad of ways. For a while I was running the amount of miles my 10-week routine had me run. I even ran up to 10 miles and I remember this guy who as at the gym commented about how impressed he was that I had just run that far. On a treadmill. What can I say? It's easy to run inside on a flat surface with a TV screen. 

When race day came, it had it's typical highs and lows. I ran an impressive seven miles before I stopped for my first walk break. That was a new feat. Miles 7-10 were starting to feel long, mile 11 I found myself walking a bit more and mile 12 I thought that I would die running this race. I actually cried when I crossed the finish line. Not sure if it was because I was happy to be done, happy to have completed a half marathon or just happy to not be running anymore. We celebrated with brunch afterward and I took it easy. 

Unfortunately I had made a fatal error. It never crossed my mind to stretch. A race that length takes a lot out of you. There's a lot of stress put on your leg muscles. You cause a lot of friction from pounding the pavement over and over again. There are more factors but these were my issues. I could barely walk the next day. And for months afterward, I could barely run. By not stretching, my body retaliated, leaving me with tender feet and plantar fasciitis (or something very similar to it). I was devastated. 

It would have been one thing if this had lasted for a few days or two weeks at most, but instead I couldn't run for three weeks. Then I struggled to run more than a mile or so the next month. By August I could run four miles. I had signed up for a the Twin Cities 10-miler in October and I was extremely concerned if I would even have a chance at running it. Luckily I got through it with almost no pain. I made sure to stretch and felt great. Stretching made all the difference! 

TC 10-miler Media Challenge. Favorite race so far

While it sounds like it wasn't that bad of a recovery process, let me tell you that it was. It took MONTHS to feel normal again. Every time I would attempt to run and I would feel pain in my foot, I would have a full range of emotions. Sad that it still hurt. Frustrated that whatever I was doing wasn't making it better. Worried I would gain weight and lose muscle from the lack of working out. Angry that I was trying to do good to my body and still ended up hurt. I felt like a failure. So many others ran that exact same race and I'm betting they were fine the next day. And here I was, gimping along, struggling to find my normal. 

When my foot finally healed itself, I made a mental note to stretch more and stretch longer. Previously  it was like, if I have time I'll stretch, but it's not a big deal. Now it's a ritual. You run, you stretch. You work out, you stretch. It's a must. Your muscles need that stretch so it can mend itself properly. I know this now. So now when I find myself injured, I'm once again feeling at a loss. 

The funny part is, I don't even know what I did this time. I stretch. I do several different workouts each week. I try not to run too many days in a row. I hit the sauna to let my muscles relax. All these things are like 101 etiquette for taking care of myself. And injury still rears it's ugly head. I've tried to self-diagnose (we all know how well that goes) and am still not sure what the real problem is. Which brings a whole new feeling of failing. 

Find peace in the sauna. 

This round of failure is rearing it's ugly head. Instead of feeling like, what did I do wrong, now it's, am I not meant to run anymore? Am I old? What is wrong with me? And I don't have any good answers. I know that running is what I love and I hope it be able to do it for a long time. Plus, I signed up for the Edinburgh Half Marathon in May so it'd be nice to actually run it. The worry is I won't be able to do it. The struggle is real folks. And unfortunately I don't have any answers. I don't know how to not feel this way when something goes awry. I guess I just hope and pray that whatever is wrong will heal itself naturally and that all the precautions I'm taking will help it heal well. Who knows. 

And while some of you think I should take a trip to the doctor, from what I can tell, there isn't much they can do for me at this point. From talking to my fellow runners, most doctors will say to rest for six weeks and see what happens after that. Six weeks feels like a lifetime. It's brutal. So for these next few weeks I will have to hope and pray and pray some more that it'll all work out. And try not to assume that I'm dying. 

I guess what I really need to do is just stop and take a minute and be grateful. Grateful that I don't have any major health issues that would prevent me from running or even walking. Grateful that I've somehow gone from hating working out to loving it. Grateful that I've had the ability to train for races that are just for fun. Grateful to have support from so many people. In the end, it's a few weeks that I need to focus on me and what my body wants. The demons that tell you that you'll fall apart and be nothing, that this will be the new you, are wrong wrong wrong. So just stop. Take a minute. And be grateful. 

Stop and take a moment. 

For anyone who has felt this way, I'm with you. If you need to vent or complain, believe me, I'm all ears. Good luck my fellow injured runners. May we meet on the other side of injury. 

Always, 
A 

Lessons in Bartending

When I first started serving back in 2008, I found that the restaurant/bar life provided daily entertainment. If it wasn't the scandal between co-workers, it was the guests themselves. I found bras on cars, had cake thrown at me, had parties that broke things and businessmen that walked out on their tab in the middle of the day. I've also had the pleasure of a pure creep tell me he wanted to draw me as a sexy cowgirl. I had a blog briefly dedicated to the stories that unfolded each night at the bar and grill I worked at. 

For real, you find all the types of people at the restaurant. And there is no exception at a bar in Edinburgh. 

Now It's only been a few months (if that) that I've had the pleasure of playing barkeep. I've managed the accents, the weird names of beer and the requests for our three dozen types of whiskies. But I've also noticed that there are some dire lessons to be learned — some that are the same for whatever bar you're at, and some that seem to be more culturally-based. 

Don't Miss Pour Your Beer 

An intersting difference between pouring beer in Scotland versus America is the thickness of the head (the foam on top). Back in America, if it wasn't one inch, it was pour wrong. You better hold that glass at a 45-degree angle until just the right time. But in Scotland, the head is only supposed to be 10% of the beer. In English, minimal. And if that glass isn't basically overflowing, you've under-poured. You wouldn't think people would be that fussy about it, but trust me, they notice everything. 

This goes for the wines as well. It's remarkable how patrons at this bar know what's up. I had one guy ask me to get his beer for free because the head wasn't right. 

Lesson learned. 

Don't Cut Off the Irish 

This is obviously a generalization, but it also might be an accurate portrayal of all Irishmen. We had some cheeky fellows come in a few weeks back, celebrating after a hard day's work. The drinks were a-flowin' and they were jolly and loud. As the night went on, their jolly-ness reached critical levels — and so did their language. After my manager told them to tone it done twice, she decided to cut them off. This was a mistake of epic proportions. In particular, one of the four gentlemen found this outrageous and proceeded to yell at her, asking her on whose authority she was cutting them off and to pour them another [profanity inserted here] beer. 

Now for me, this prompted me to hide on the other side of this circular bar. But everyone else felt the need to support the manager and even give them attitude back. These co-workers seem to be given energy from people like this. I tend to cower. It's a trait they possess that I'm impressed by and hope to learn someday. 

Needless to say, the men eventually left, but they threw a fit the whole way out. I don't know if the next morning it was all a blur for them or not, but I have a good feeling they won't be back anytime soon. 

Become a Professional at Skiving 

This term is essentially the skill of slacking off at work. The bar definitely gets busy. I mean, rows and rows of people deep, kind of busy. It's chaos. This happens usually before a show starts next door, a rugby or football game is on or it's a Saturday night. But there is a lot of time when it's slow. Painfully slow. Back in America, the restaurant stayed fairly busy. Not in a run around crazy all the time sort of way, but enough to keep you moving. And if it wasn't busy, they'd let someone go home. This is rarely the case here. 

So how do you fill your time? By skiving. The best way to look busy without actually being busy is polishing wine glasses. Because of the amount of wine that is consumed in our bar, it feels like there are always wine glasses to polish. Can't have them spotty now can we? And you want to make sure they are completely bright and sparkly. This takes time. Precision. So if you need a break, this is where it's at. 

I haven't found out the other good forms of skiving, but I'm sure I will sooner than later. Folding napkins possibly. That seems to take forever. Or polishing silverware. These co-workers know what they're doing, and I will glean all I can from them. 

Make Sure Customers Eat Together — or Else

There are some really good qualities about the kitchen at the restaurant. Almost everything is made from scratch (sans dressings and so on). It's impressive. And delicious. However, when things are made this way and someone sends something back, the time until they get a new plate feels like a full 24 hours. I'm used to working at a chain restaurant where if their wings aren't hot enough, you throw them in the fryer for a good 30 seconds. Fries are cold? Throw them in the fryer (or get them fresh ones). Fryers save lives. Or time. You get the point. 

So when I had a table that their neeps and tatties (neeps are mashed turnips and tatties are mashed potatoes) were on a the chillier side of hot, I sent it back down to the kitchen to deal with. Unfortunately, this led to the couple to eating their meals separately. Whoops. And because I'm still new to how things are done here, I didn't offer them dessert or a discount. Long story short, we got a bad review. Apparently its the first bad review we've had for a long time, too. Leave it to the American to destroy all things. 

Control Your Drinking Habits

I think the managers want me to be drunk after all of my shifts. Okay, maybe they just want me to be European. I am a lightweight. Get me one margarita at the start of dinner and I'm tipsy before the main courses arrive. And that's the way I like it. But here, you get a staff drink after your shift. Or sometimes they'll give away free shots (my new favorite shot: Baby Guinness) or give you miss-pours. The list goes on. There always seems to be a reason to give you another drink. 

This, of course, could get dangerous, so I typically only take one drink a week. Queue the half pint of cider. That's my go-to. But if someone offers me one of those Baby Guinness's... 

Needless to say, make a conscious decision to NOT become a heavy drinker. 

Working on my bartending skills. At home. With a drink we don't make at the bar. 

Change The Way You Sleep 

In my professional life, I'd wake up at 5:15, get to work by 7-7:30, and be home by 5:30. Sleep happened by 10:30 (really 11, let's be real) and this was my typical Monday thru Friday. I like that life. Sure, early rising is not my thing, but this is the adult world. Everyone else is pretty much on the same schedule. You don't feel like you're missing out ever. 

The bartending world is basically the exact opposite. I'm lucky to be out of bed by 10am. I now start work while others are commuting home from a long day. I'm the place people go to to burn off steam from a workday that was busy or stressful. Most nights, I don't get off until at least 11, unless I'm closing at then it's 12:30 (or 1:30 on Fridays and Saturdays). This is not a new lifestyle for me. I lived it for 6+ years back in the States. I'm more of a night owl than an early riser. But I've grown accustomed to my professional lifestyle. I like my weekends free for adventure. My nights open for dinners and drinks. 

The silver lining: with the days becoming incredibly short (the sun sets at around 4pm currently) it's dark no matter what. And my husband is in school and working nights as well. 

Don't Take it Too Seriously 

At the end of the day, it's not life or death. It's dinner and drinks. It's making friendships from different backgrounds and experiencing life in a different culture. Definitely a quick way to learn what life in Edinburgh is like. Granted we get a lot of Americans into our bar (It's next to several hotels) but we also get people from all over Europe. 

Because our time here is short and because this isn't my professional goal, I know I can work hard, but leave it all behind at bar close. So for now, I'll live it up (in moderation of course) and live that bartending lifestyle... while still getting to bed long before my coworkers do. 

Truth

Always,

A