The Need to Recommit (over and over again)

I wish I was better at sticking with things.

Especially things that work and things that make me happy.

It seems like a no brainer- BUT- for some reason all of a sudden you wake up and think - why did I stop doing ____________________(insert wonderful thing that was great) ___________?

For me, it was running.

You guys know I was never fast, and that was hard for me to do something that didn't come naturally, but I still really enjoyed it.  Or let me rephrase that.....I enjoyed what it gave me.

I felt fit, I looked better, I slept great, I was more relaxed.  I loved the way I felt after a run...or just the thought of "hey, I ran 6 miles this morning and I am doing fine today"..... those kind of things are amazing.

But two summers ago I burned out big time. I had a bad chaffing incident in places that shall not be named (laugh all you want, but I was down...I mean down for days, and I hurt for months). No details will be given on that....

Then the accident happened, and running felt frivolous and made me upset.

Then, my awesome running partner got pregnant and her health dictated no more runs.  Boo.

That equals.....hmm....a year and a half of no running.

Once my partner was up and at it ( a c-section, brave girl) we just registered for a half-marathon to get us going.

I really doubted this strategy once we started running.  We were much slower, needed to walk more, and I literally felt the extra pounds on my body with every step I took.  We loosely followed this great program that I found on Pinterest via anytimehealth.com

I appreciated that it had rest days and encouraged you to cross train (which I didn't do a ton of, sadly).  We skipped the first two weeks because we were already close to our race.  No worries- this really did get us ready. (Note- I didn't do the 12 mile run on week 8. I stopped at 11 miles. I hate feeling tired for a race, and the long runs sort of wipe me out. I hope as time goes on I can conquer this, but for now I accept it and don't fight it).

We were nervous for the race, and agreed we were just going to try and match our worst times that we had for a half-marathon.  I just wanted to beat my first race, my slowest time.  Well, the morning of the race, we felt good.  Surprisingly good.  We ran the Bryce Canyon Half, and can I say...it was gorgeous.  Lots of water stations (a must for beginners) and LOTS of porta-potties.  Really, these guys were great.

We decided to run together...and walk together. We knew we needed breaks.  We took them at the water tables.  We did great, visiting the first 4 or 5 miles, then putting in the headphones to find our groove for the rest.  

(my swiped photo from the email-  forgive me) I know it looks like we are walking- we aren't.  This is about mile 9.  We were doing good to finish better than our first race last year, and then my partner hit a wall. It was mile 11.  The strange thing was, I felt good. I felt really good.  I have never had that happen before (this was my 4th half marathon) and it really made me happy.  She told me to go ahead, and I did, with only a mile and half left.  

Here is the miracle... NO, I didn't have a fabulous time. It was my second best half yet.
 BUT....even better....I felt JOY. I felt GREAT.  My legs felt good, my breathing was good, my head was clear, and I felt so blessed to even be there.  To have the health to be running, to know my kids and husband were waiting at the finish, to know I got my fat butt up off the couch and made myself do this- in 3 MONTHS- it all just came swirling up to this great moment of happiness and peace, at mile 12.  I was so happy to finish happy.

That is why you should run.

Oh yeah, and your kids will think the medals are cool

Honestly, it was a great experience.  Much more than a runners high- just a true moment of happiness. And you don't have to be the first one done to feel it. I am living proof that slowly but surely can still bring you joy.

As we pulled away from the finishing area a young girl jumped out of a car ahead of us to puke on the side of road. My 13 year old turned to me and said, very seriously, "good job, mom."  The puking must have made it a little more real for him.  

By the way- this is my true badge of honor.

running toes

I know, it's gross....my pedicure is done for and my second toe is black.  But it didn't hurt at all while I ran, it still doesn't, but it  keeps getting blacker and blacker. I am sort of fascinated by it, so I haven't painted my toenails yet.  I can't wait to see it shed, if it does. Don't let it scare you off.  I look hard core to my kiddos.

Hopefully you can recommit to something you have let slip. 

Take it from me...it feels so good to rediscover it.

Trying my first Tri

As a group of sisters and nieces we signed up for a triathlon months ago. It has become somewhat of a tradition in my family, but this would be my first year participating.

After some spotty training, and a debate on whether or not to even go, I end up out of state ready for my first Sprint Triathlon. Late night giggles with the girls aren't exactly helping the energy levels, but we're off

It was wall to wall tires and bikes in my van.

We arrive with bikes and find our transition areas. Some sweet competitor helped me by moving her bike and making me space on the set up area. God bless you, whomever you are.

The swim leg was first, we had to swim 1/4 a mile in the fresh water.

We splashed and swam before hand to get used to the water and clam our nerves

(not sure if helped, but it was fun)

I was super jittery and super scared. I love to swim, but the warnings of flying limbs and splashing waters had me slightly terrified.

I was going to start with a sister, but seeing the way the time chips worked (age groups noted by swim cap color) I started on my own for an accurate time.

The swimming was chaotic, and I just kept thinking to myself "just get out of the clump"

which I did. My goggles fogged up, and I almost swam into a volunteers rescue canoe,

but other than that no problem. I could barely walk when I got out of the water.

I heeded my sister's advice and did not let myself sit down as I slipped on my shoes and grabbed my bike from the transition area. I ran out, hopping on my bike, thinking,

"just get going..." I was shaky and tired already. 10 miles of this???

After a few miles on the bike I started to deflate.

My body was jello and the sun was so hot, and my bike felt like it weighed a ton.

I could barely pedal. I actually started to cry- why didn't I train better? Why did I sign up for this stupid thing? I am terrible on a bike! I am riding a hybrid- it is so slow!!!! I wanted to stop.

I will confess, I muttered a few cuss words at this point.

After a few more minutes I remembered my Sports Beans (thank you caffeine boost) and dumped the bag in my mouth.

A well trained biker slowed by side and said- "Hey, you're doing good".

I snorted and asked, "how far are we???" She told me we were half way- 5 more miles, but warned me, "there are some big hills coming up, so hang in there. They say it's a flat course..." as she pedaled off she finished over her shoulder "But they lie...!"

At least I was warned.

I finished it out and got my head back together, hopping off the bike and setting off for the run.

Let's get these 3 miles done.

What's this??? Everyone is walking. They are tired too!

Their legs are marked with their age on their calf, and I start counting the ages as I shuffle past them. The run feels so comforting, all my half marathon training kicking into gear.

36. 24. 44. I pass all ages.

A few women in their 50's whiz past me. I keep going.

Finally I finish, strong and happy. (surprisingly it was 2nd best time ever for 3 miles)

We start taking photos and my sister surprises us with hand stamped necklaces she made.

I am hungry, I didn't eat much before the race...I start to falter. When times are posted I burst into tears. I am not sure what time would have made me happy in that exhausted state, but what I had wasn't enough (1 hour 30 minutes).

I actually cried the whole way to the restaurant.

I was so embarrassed and even more worn out. (Should have had chocolate and Coke at the finish line).

(Nothing like a loving sister close by with her iPhone to snap a picture,

reassuring me I would want it later)

The restaurant almost made it worse by not serving any Diet Coke...

But, as the chips and salsa (and Cherry Diet Pepsi) hit my system a miracle happened.

I start to feel euphoric.

I start to feel relief. I start to feel giddy.

I am a 40 year old non-athlete who just did her first triathlon, surrounded by sisters and a niece who all pushed themselves, too.

I DID A TRIATHLON!

When can I do my next one?

Fighting 40

Soooo..... the big day is here. I was wondering if it would feel weird, you know, old, to be turning 40. The only weird thing about it is I still feel so childish some days. Oh well.

This is how I turn 40

Get up and go running here

My favorite place to knock off 3 miles.

Order a little somethin-somethin from Hammering Redhead on ETSY

I picked my little ones initials for my own admiring. Her jewelry is the kind of stuff you see other people wear and feel jealous.. That will be ME when it arrives. (thanks Melanie for the nice correspondence, too!)

Break down and get the hair you have wanted all your life

Courtesy of REMY hair extensions.

I

LOVE

these things.

Get a thrill in Las Vegas seeing Phantom (amazing, amazing, amazing) and riding the Big Shot on the Stratosphere during my girls only weekend

Lest you think the ride is not scary, please look again. Pay attention to my horrified face.

I guess a picture is worth a thousand words (or laughs, in my case) after all.

(for the record, my pants stayed dry, so I am not as old as I sound)

And that is how I am fighting (or not so much fighting, but relishing) turning 40. Hope I am having this much fun 40 years from now, too.

They say you never forget

They say you never forget how to ride a bike.
I have not owned my own bike since I was 12......or so
Meet my Novara
I can ride it 9 miles (my furthest yet) without crying because my behind hurts.
I feel like Mary Poppins with a helmet on.

I am not good at hopping up to the side walk, as these photos will testify




And yes, it hurts as bad as it looks. On the other hand.....does this make me tough? I am one of those girls with road rash

loving the caption....
if it has tires or scratches itself, you're going to have trouble with it

accepting condolences or admiring comments about my toughness now

Poor Blog

Theater auditions and lunches with friends

Scout hikes and pinewood derby

and early morning running

and no post on the blog

Mother's Day cards and coupons from kids

Ipad and bikes and gadgets and gizmos

Clients and oils and Dr. appointments with Grandma

no time for my poor little blog

TV series and political rantings

State Delegate drama and powerful prophecies

Haunting books and book club breakfasts, another dead kitty and endless tears

no time to blog

Choir Concerts and piano lessons

Two 5-ks and a new pair of shoes

Birthday Treats and yearbook needs

poor, poor, blog

Packing and planning for a weekend away

Student Council posters (and rejection) and end of year reports

Genealogy and ancestors stories

and still no time to blog

....is anyone else finding May to be the busiest time of the year?

sometimes I wish I could slow it all down-
I enjoy this life
I just don't want to miss it

Almost like a baby picture

You know the ones.....


you have taken in your adorable toddler/grandchild/ neice and nephew/ puppy to a studio and the next thing you know you are forking out 20 bucks for a photo. ONE photo.


One you know would only cost 2 bucks to print at Wal-Mart and maybe even less on your home computer....


but you get sucked in.





You have to have that image...that shot, that one perfect glimpse in time.





That is how I felt when they e-mailed me this image

Because while I know that I am not perfect, this moment was.
I was afraid to run my first half marathon alone. I was afraid to run it in a different place, I was afraid to run it after laying around for 2 months with a bummer ankle and toothache.
But I did it anyway.
All by myself....
....and this photo takes me right back to the moment that I did it.

So for that, I will pay.

Do we really capture enough of the celebration moments to relish and relive?

What's more, do we give ourselves cause to celebrate?

My 1/2 Report

It came it went- and here are the gory details

2 days before. I wake up with a sore throat. Yes, I am sick. I am running sick.
Is that cramps? I am so blessed to have my ladies curse right now?
Really, universe? Oh well.

Day before- walk around Legoland all day dreaming of sleeping. Where will I find my energy?
Day of- can't sleep, so excited. Unbelievable lines for the bathrooms- I have to get in one. I am nervous- I smile for the camera (no that is not a side pony tail- that is another ladies hair behind my head). It is like a rally but everyone is athletic.....it is infectious. Can I hit my target time of under 2:45 (time predicted for my 5k pace of a 10 minute mile).

Race starts. Bands play, breeze flows, it feels great. I pass a lot of my wave and catch up with the 2:30 pacer. I get excited as I slowly pull in front of him. I feel sooo good. I go.

I run a few miles. Gotta pee, oh great.
See a small line and sweep out of the race to get in it.
Wait a few minutes..... wait a few more...there goes the 2:30 pacer past the porta-potty....
I take my squat and get back in the race, and never catch up to him.

I slosh water down, I wave at the sidelines, I want to cry for joy when I see my kids and hubby waiting to cheer and take my picture. I hit the turn around point, I shed my jacket...I run and run and run.

At mile 9 I toss my jacket to my kids and keep going. At mile 10 people start dropping. I see a girl puking. A grown man rubbing his calves, wincing in pain by the side of the road. At this point a lot of my wave starts walking. I keep running, but can tell I am slowing down.

I hit a down hill slop (thank goodness) it is mile 11.
I feel like someone is slapping the back of my legs, but keep going.
I feel good other than the leg thing...a good song comes on, I am getting blissfully emotional, I can see the last turn, and I want to cry I am so happy.

I take the turn and truck up the hill to the finish. I am so excited to grab my medal. My kids look proud as they gather around and hug and hold me.....
I did it.

After race- we walk in the nearby mall to eat. A random woman says "Hey, good job" when she sees my medal. I want to kiss her for noticing and tell her "I am not a runner! I did not run ever until 18 months ago! I did it all by myself!!!!" But I just say...."Thanks".
I go to use the restroom and fall onto the toilet. I have no strength left in my body.
Later that night- I skip on dinner to stay in bed. I have no energy to dry my hair or put on makeup. Hubby brings home dinner and chocolate cake. I feel euphoric, in spite of exhaustion.

Day after. CAN. NOT. WALK. Ouch. My legs hurt. I am suddenly proud of my 2:38 time, realizing I could not have gone faster without dying.

I moan and whine the whole drive home (10 hours). I pull myself up the stairs into bed and I am done.

Next day- I do two miles and feel good again.
Get a massage....
and I am back to normal.

Now, when can I run another one? I have to beat that lame-o time!

Gotta Run

2009 was the year I became addicted to running. I never thought it would happen.....

My relationship with running goes something like this. Mockery. Interest. Envy. Jealousy. Timid. Comfortable. Affectionate. Passionate.

This by no means indicates that I am a great runner. I waddle, I whine, and I only run outside in fair weather, but somewhere between mocking the idiots sweating on the streets and passionately craving a good day to slip on my shoes and head outside, I became a runner. Then the scale rewarded my running and I became excited.

I made a commitment and registered for a half marathon- and it is here. I will be running the course in Carlsbad along the shores and with the breeze this weekend.
I am doing it alone, which scares me more than anything, with no one to talk me out of walking and no stories to take my mind off which mile I am on.

I must have my ipod shuffle, my comfy Saucony shoes, and my pre-run puddings as part of my already well established running ritual.
I have to forget about the ankle that kept me down for a month. I must get over the ill-fitting temporary crown that attracts my tongue like a magnet. I must not worry that all of the runners I know were unable to join me.

Yes, I am scared.
but

I just gotta run.

art found at jillan tamaki