Becoming a morning person at 2.13 an hour

Runner's World published an article in their October issue designed to help us average Joes and Janes develop the right habits and routines to transition to working out in the morning. I can certainly speak to the benefits of getting a workout in before breakfast, but one thing RW failed to acknowledge is that for some of us, it's not as easy as turning in 10 minutes earlier each night until we're turning off the lights at 10:00 PM. What about us 2nd-shifters??

Besides downing several big-ass cups of coffee, I got nothing. I'm loving working out at 7:30 but when that alarm goes off thirty minutes earlier I want to throw it at the wall.

I wonder if I can enter some sort of meditative state (think "Office Space") in which I'm working, but I don't feel like I'm working, or care that I'm working, thus conserving some amount of energy for the run I have scheduled the next morning.

Although I have to say (and I'm sure I've said before) that I am certain running improves my energy and focus at work, and the work improves my stamina during a run. It's like, during a long run I'm glad I'm not working a double and scrambling to stay out of the weeds. During a hectic shift, I'm glad to be getting somewhat of a workout without completely busting my ass.

I'll tell you one thing, though: While we're all working for different reasons, it's annoying as HELL when you hear a 21-year-old complain about her feet hurting her. Especially if you spent your morning running, chasing a toddler and taking care of chores. I'm sorry? What did you do all day before work? Oh, that's right, you skipped your morning class because you were hung over, spent the entirety of your next class text and Facebook-stalking your soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend, made yourself late for work because you just HAD to catch up with the Kardashians, and now you're frazzled because you've been here for, what, 4 hours and you're tired and ready to go home? Yeah. Talk to me when you have real problems.

OK, I know it's not fair to uphold everyone to my ridiculously high standards, but I do think dragging my ass out of bed at the crack of dawn is more than just a fun way to develop an "Intervention"-worthy caffeine habit. I think it builds character. And it doesn't matter who you are or what stage of life you're in; we can all benefit from a little personality workout. Especially servers!

Take-away Wednesday

Last week little miss and I visited a teammate from Team Challenge. If you are just stumbling upon this blog or you simply haven't checked out my donation page yet (link to the right), please go look and at least check out what Team Challenge is all about.

This teammate is in the hospital right now with multiple abscesses - caused by Crohn's - awaiting possible surgery and then hopefully, if she is infection-free, treatment to help with the barrage of symptoms that can go with this disease. She is a cool, tough-looking chick complete with faux-hawk, piercings, tattoos and colorful language. We talked a lot about what she's going through, but also the importance of Team Challenge and the significance of trying to make it to Las Vegas in December.

A lot of people when sick, automatically look to celebrities or athletes in the limelight who have gone through major challenges publicly. Think about that movie that's coming out, "50/50" in which Seth Rogan says to his friend, "You're gonna be fine! Lance Armstrong keeps getting cancer and look at him," or something to that effect.

I think the problem with that, though, is that we often look at people like Lance Armstrong, or Oscar Pistorius, or Bethany Hamilton, or the dude who cut himself free from the bolder, and think, "well, I'm not a seasoned athlete, so I can't do ____." What people don't realize is that there are normal, every-day people who must juggle the demands of daily life with the complications of a chronic ailment who still find the strength to face each day. Some days are better than others, but I can imagine that if everyone went in with an all-or-nothing attitude, a lot of people would just lay down and let disease take over.

My teammate understands she will be faced with physical limitations, so she's certainly not out to PR on a Half-Marathon. Instead, she says, "If I can't run it, I'll walk it. If I can't walk it, I'll crawl it. One way or another, I'm getting across that f****** finish line!"

What I challenge you to take away from this little anecdote is to find your finish line, and f****** cross it. Sometimes we set lofty goals for ourselves, but that shouldn't stop us from accomplishing them. Set reasonable landmarks that you can reach along the way and know that maybe the way you anticipated getting there might wind up being very different from what actually happens. All it takes is one unpredictable variable to throw off even the best-laid plans, so roll with the punches and find your own detour.

Tuesday Night Spin

My playlists are essential to a successful spin class. I use them to energize my spinners and drive them to push themselves. Sometimes, though, I have to cherry-pick from other instructors' lists and workout ideas when I am lacking motivation or inspiration. So in return, I also want to share my delightfully masochistic indoor cycling workouts for anyone else who wants to put together a high-intensity, kick-ass workout. Today's class uses the same playlist I put together last week, which received a lot of positive feedback in the form of everyone spinning their little butts off.

Since I don't always instruct on bikes with monitors, I ask my spinners to gauge their resistance on a simple scale: flat road, light, light+, medium, medium+, heavy and steep. It's up to the rider to find what they determine to be "medium" or "heavy". Steep is as hard as they can set the resistance and still be able to pedal smoothly. Flat road is NOT no resistance, it's the point at which the rider first feels a hint of resistance when adding gears.

I ride in three positions which I call out during class by number: 1) Seated, hinged forward, hands resting where comfortable on the handlebars. Position 1 is for seated runs, climbs, and recovery. 2) Standing, hands light on the handlebars, hinged forward just slightly. This is mostly a recovery or transition position. 3) Standing, hinged all the way forward (flat back), hands at the end of the handlebars. This is for standing runs and climbing. The important things to note in any position is that the spine is neutral, not hunched, the knees to not come out past the toes, and the seat height is adjusted so that the legs do not lock out straight at the bottom of the pedal stroke.

Now that I've gone through my basic intro, here's my first playlist to share. Enjoy!

"You're an animal!" Playlist (55 minutes):

1. warm up --flat road, position 1 -- "Animal" Neon Trees
2. warm up continued -- light resistance, position 1 verse, 2 bridge, 3 & run on chorus -- "Are You Gonna Be My Girl" Jet
3. climb with standing bursts -- medium resistance, pos. 1 verse, 3 & "burst" on chorus -- "In The End" Linkin Park
4. endurance run -- light resistance, pos. 1, easy run for first and last minute to recover, when the music picks up speed it up and maintain a fast run (NOT a sprint -- about 85-90%) -- "Brasileiria" Veron & Praia Del Sol
5. jumps -- light+ resistance, pos. 1 and 2, jump to the count of 8, 4, and 2, repeating sequence twice during the song -- "Jump" Flo Rida featuring Nelly Furtado
6. climb with standing bursts -- medium+, climb in pos. 1, "burst" in 3 -- "Seven Nation Army" The White Stripes
7. seated climb -- increase from medium+, to heavy, to steep, standing once it's too hard to sit and pedal smoothly -- "Feeling Good" Muse8. climb down -- gradually decrease from steep back down to medium with each change in position: start in 3, take off res. and sit, take off a gear in pos. 2, take a gear off in pos. 3 and run (on chorus), repeat sequence -- "The Dog Days Are Over" Florence and the Machine
9. recovery run -- flat road with optional bursts (if you recover quickly, add a gear back in half-way through the song!) -- "I Wanna Be Sedated" The Ramones
10. hovers -- medium resistance, pos. 1 verse, pos. 3 bridge, then take your butt waaaay back over the saddle (as if you're about to sit, but don't) on the chorus -- "Mysterious Ways" U2
11. standing runs with a twist -- medium resistance, alternate between pos. 1 and pos. 3, running fast (85%); keep your momentum going! Music slows and it's time to add resistance on last time, so crank your gears and make it STEEP! You're only going to climb for a moment so make it count. As the music picks back up take off the resistance and run it out in pos. 3 -- "Lancaster Gate" Enter the Haggis
12. endurance run with sprints -- flat road (or more resistance if you need for control- no bouncing), the first minute is to recover before the music picks up, start at about 60% effort, then wind it up and get ready to GO, hold your pace at 90% until the music drops out, recover and repeat -- "Sandstorm" Darude

Always make sure you allow for at least 10 minutes at the end of your workout to recover, bring that heartrate back down, and to stretch.
 

How not to defend yourself with your face.

Once again:

My Team Challenge Fundraising Page

I have a loooooooong (+ a few more "o"s) way to go to reach my fundraising goal. Online and off, I have about $70 so far. Just $3670 to go! A little goes a long way and is greatly appreciated, but if anyone out there in the blogosphere has suggestions for generating more revenue through donations, please feel free to share! I'd love to ask Mr. Turner, but I'm pretty sure he only donates to his own fundraising organizations. I could be all like, "Really? I'm sure Captain Planet would like to rid the world of Crohn's and Colitis!" and he'd just look at me cross-eyed.

In other news:

Signed up for a free week at a martial arts gym, getting a crash course in Muay Thai in an effort to toughen up after an incident last month in Greenville. The Hubs and I were downtown on a very quiet Tuesday evening, enjoying a couple anniversary beverages together. The key detail to note here is that we had 2 drinks each. So, NOT drunk. We hung out for a while at a bar owned by a former colleague of his, talking about work, life and the company he used to work for. No big deal. We left just before midnight and the streets were dead quiet except for a few kids walking toward us. We passed each other going in opposite directions but after pausing for a few beats, the kids turned around and started following us.

Hubby and I exchange glances as if to say Great, what are they gonna bug us for?

We cross quickly to the other side and they soon follow suit, calling after us, "Hey, man, got a cig? Got a smoke? HEY? You hear me??"

One guy positions himself in front of my husband, the other, in front of me. Their waify, presumably high or cracked out female friend just stood over to the side. Next thing you know I hear "Give me your fucking purse," as I take a blow to the face.

Ow! I think. Then, He's not punching right. Still, I don't have the presence of mind to hit back. Only to continue to duck my head and keep stepping back and spinning away. Nevermind that I only have $5 in cash on me, I had pictures of my baby on my phone and I was stupidly guarding my purse instead of just handing it over. Hubby was easily fighting off the retard attacking him (he is 6'4", mind you) and quickly ran over to me and threw my attacker to the ground. The first guy then started to run at me and quicker than I realize, I had my cash out of my purse, in my hand, and was throwing it at him. They took it and ran.

They got away with five bucks, bruises and a bad limp. I got away with a bruised face and neck. Apparently, at some point the guy had his arm around my neck. I don't remember this, and am even more pissed that I couldn't properly defend myself. At least I can take a hit ... the punk actually seemed surprised I didn't go down.

The moral of this story: trust your gut. I know we want to be all politically correct and non-assuming or some bullshit, but seriously, if it seems like a group of kids is up to no good, they probably aren't. The mistake we made was thinking, they're just kids, they're not gonna mess with us. I should know better; I've met 9-yr-olds bigger than me so a wanna-be thug teenager would definitely look at me and think he had a clear advantage.

Hense, Muay Thai classes.

Check out this chick, Gina Carano. Next time some asshole takes a swing at me, I want to be able to duck and come up with an uppercut to the jaw.

Team Challenge

LOOK OVER THERE ------------------------> (go to link. donate. thanks!)

It's that time of year again!

With the welcome change in temperature and humidity - however brief it may be - it's time to start thinking about my fall running and what my big race with be this year. I'm skipping the marathon until the spring because, frankly, I just won't feel like running for more than 3.5 hours. But the half-marathon, that's more than doable. In fact, I think I'll do two:

1) Atlanta Half Marathon, November 24th. I wanted to run this last year but we had just moved into our townhouse not two weeks before the event and prior to that, were busy with working and packing for said move. This race will essentially be the 1-year mark for us living in Atlanta. Considering how miserable I was in Newnan, this is a huge thing. What's really fun is that I'm still learning neighborhoods and discovering places to run / take my daughter to the playground, so this race I'm sure will give me an opportunity to learn more of this city.

2) Las Vegas Rock n Roll Half Marathon, December 4th. Now it might be a bit much to run two Halfs, two weeks apart but the 2nd one isn't my race, it's my sister's. We both signed up to raise money for Team Challenge which supports the Crohn's and Colitis Foundation. My sister has been coping with Crohn's Disease for several years how and not able to keep up a regular training regimen because of its impact on her health. Thanks to our stellar health care system (sarcasm intended), it's also very difficult for her to receive timely treatments, especially if she changes jobs and insurance providers. I hope that raising funds for the Crohn's and Colitis Foundation will help move them closer toward their goals of finding answers and providing support to help better treat these diseases, and that doing this race with my sister will create a special and lasting memory.

If you are one of the 2-3 people who already "follow" my blog, please keep coming back as in the next week or so I plan on having my fundraising page set up and will rely on this blog to get the link out there and raise money. If you're not on blogger, no worries, I'm sure I'll find/stalk you on Facebook :)

Keep coming back, too, as I update on my cross-training endeavors. The weekly spin classes continue and I think I'll start posting my playlists as well as looking for theme ideas as we move into the colder months and more people move indoors to work out. Also, I picked up a free week of Muay Thai classes starting next week. Why? Self-defense can NEVER be overrated. And if someone is ever going to say that I hit like a girl, I think it ought to be from behind their arms, covering their face and head.

Happy Running and Training!

The Dog Days Are Not Over

The Peachtree 10K on July 4th was, in a word, HOT. But in more words, it was a fun and exhilarating experience, running with so many people. To practically follow in the footsteps of champion runs (OK... maybe 15-20 minutes behind them) was inspiring. I finished in 48:43 or something like that, which I had no choice but to be satisfied with because once the mercury started to rise and the humidity started to get a hold on my lungs, I knew I wasn't going to kill myself for my sub-48 goal.

Now as we bask in the inferno glow of mid-summer, I'm struggling to develop the ambition or drive to focus on my next race. Sadly, I had to give up the idea of doing a triathlon this season when my dogs - whose combined weight exceeds my own - practically yanked my right arm off in an attempt to capture a couple of bickering squirrels as they raced out of a tree and across the lawn. That incident left me face-down in the grass with my arm in a world of hurt I don't think I've ever experienced in a joint before. I gave it a couple weeks before attempting a few strokes in the water but a few meters into a lap and the shoulder was on fire again.

For the next couple of weeks, I think I'll just enjoy these dog days of summer and allow myself the time to kick back and relax. A run here, a spin class there, sprinkle in some yoga, and I'm a happy camper. Summer here is like winter in NY: In the midst of the season, I struggle to get outdoors for anything, the weather is just too damn intense and miserable. While many still argue and debate whether one can consider himself a "real" runner if he retreats indoors on crappy days, I have no problem admitting the treadmill and I are perfect friends. Some may call it woosing out, but you know what? I'm still busting out 7:30- to 8-minute miles on an incline. So while the purists are slogging it out in 90% humidity (without an ipod, mind you, because music is a performance aid and they don't like that, either), I'm happily blowing out my eardrums and sprinting out my last mile to "Lancaster Gate." (Go, listen, enjoy.)

"Jillian Michaels wouldn't eat prime rib."

So says my coworker to me as I scarf the meal a manager bought me for helping the restaurant nearly sell out of the delicious carnivorous concoction (making it so our kitchen manager would not pitch a fit the next morning for having too much left over).

I thought, why wouldn't she eat prime rib?

I mean, that girl has got to burn the calories to justify it. Lord knows I do, between doing her workouts, running, spinning, and whatever other activity sparks my interest from one week to the next. Oh yeah, and serving, which is estimated at 400kcal/hour, or something like that. The trick is not to stop and eat the fries every time you pass by the expo.

My coworker's comment has me thinking, though, about practicing what I preach and being what I eat. I certainly don't want to LOOK like a regular to the meat n' potatoes counter at the buffet. And I CAN truthfully say that a basket of strawberries, a bunch of bananas, and whatever other fruits we have on hand barely last 3 days between the daughter and me. I love me some roasted asparagus, I can cook fish well enough to include that on the menu at home, and I tend to avoid buying crap (no Oreos, potato chips, or frozen chicken tenders here).

As I move forward with my training in the field of health and fitness, I do realize, however, that I have to be more mindful of these things. I certainly can't tell clients or students to do as I say and not as I do. Because the truth of the matter is, I AM human, I DO eat fries. So I'm a big fan of the 90/10 rule: Eat as well as you can, 90% of the time. Or, of the 10 or so times you eat over the course of two days - counting each meal and two snacks per day - one of those can be whatever you want so long as the rest are balanced.

And just so you know, I did order asparagus with my prime rib!

Burgers, boogers and bikes.

Burgers

Where I work is kinda pricy. It's downtown Atlanta and - big shocker - we make our food in house. Said priciness is noted on a menu posted outside our front door. So when people come in and are all confused by the tiny numbers next to each menu *item, I can tell that things are off to a **fantastic start.

*If I were as obnoxious and blunt as some of the people I have the pleasure of waiting on can be, the conversation would go something like this:

"What are all these numbers? Why do some things have 2 different numbers??"

"Those are our prices. Some items have a different price for the beef and the bison."

"Oh. I thought they were something else."

"Like what? What else could a number next to a menu item mean?" 

"Well, that means this burger is FIFTEEN dollars???"

"Dorothy, you're not in McDonald's anymore."

**Sarcasm. By "fantastic start," I mean, "guaranteed 5% tip."

Boogers

Colds suck. Especially seeing your little all gooped up and not able to breathe. Kids are resilient, though, and somehow bounce back a million times faster than their sissy parents. Case in point: Me. She's having me chase her down at Trader Joe's to keep her from knocking over cases of wine with her mini shopping cart, and I'm sore from head to toe because this cold has caused my workouts to take a greater toll on me. Not the best week to try to increase the frequency of my resistance and core workouts. It still hurts to laugh or cough. She's still singing along to Curious George, and I'm slouching on the sofa because it feels like I've been punched in the face.

Bikes (and feet, and cardio studios)

I powered through the cold because I still felt OK enough to get in some decent workouts. I'm really working on stepping up my game to increase strength and speed, but I need to get back to taking other instructors' classes as much as I'm in the gym teaching my own. This was a point the person instructing a seminar I attended made; something I'd forgotten about since jumping up to the front of the room to become the leader. I think back to Lisl and Nicole, two powerfully inspirational and influential women at the gym I belonged to in South Carolina, and how much I looked to them to find my own drive to dig deeper and push harder. I also thought about how exciting it was when they'd tag-team-teach, or show up to take each other's classes. While I'm looking for ways to keep people coming to my class, I need to go to the other classes they may be attending and work out with them, too. Also, I forgot how nice it is to not have to think about anything and to let someone ELSE do all the talking!

Things I've been doing while not blogging...

*Making 5-minute attempts to catch up on everyone else's blogs, especially this amazing woman's. You should give it a read. I suggest starting HERE and reading the next few posts that follow. In a funk? Not sure you want to work out? Let this blog cure you of your don't-wanna-go's.

*Making feeble attempts to keep up with my own running between work, spin classes, and playing house. I've got this 10K on July 4th to focus on/worry about. I can run 6 miles in my sleep, but I want - or wanted - to work on my speed and, well, I just don't know if that 45-minute mark is so feasible. Of course, there's the whole crowd thing, too. I've NEVER run around this many people before. Over 50,000 last year. Multiple, multiple start waves. Maybe I can consider it preparation for if I ever want to run Chicago or Boston.

*Work. I mentioned work, right? Still 5 shifts most weeks, which is great and all (especially in "today's economy"... aren't you sick of people saying that?), except for those pesky double shifts that occupy an entire Saturday yet for some reason, are so slow I'm barely waiting on one table an hour. And because it's so hot out, no one really wants to eat anyway, so they're all splitting salads and sharing lemonades. Ugh. The best part is before noon, when I see people running and cycling by before downtown traffic gets heavy. It's like they're going by on purpose, just to rub it in that they're out there, feeling the breeze (even if it IS an 85-degree breeze) and breaking a sweat, whereas my perspiration only comes from having a white oxford shirt buttoned up to my neck.

*Spinning. Each week is different, but I think I'm getting some regulars. Still working on getting people to respond to my attempts to light a fire under their asses to push a little harder and sweat a little more, but a few of those wheels start spinning a little faster when I get loud. I'm just trying to find that line between motivation and annoyance and make sure I don't cross it while also making sure that people are really getting a workout. I'm not gonna lie, it's a little disheartening when I look up and see people pushing at the same cadence for 50 minutes, without so much as a flicker of determination in their faces. I'll be attending an indoor cycling training seminar this months, which I hope will provide me with some new motivation tactics in addition to new exercises and training tools.

*Watching the toddler grow. 2 months until 2. TWO. Running, climbing, jumping in the pool with floaties on, starting to play pretend, obsessed with Curious George and Little Einsteins, highly opinionated; all things that I find absolutely adorable and awe-inspiring, as I watch this little person blossom before my eyes, yet all things that remind me all too clearly just how fast those baby days go by.

*Bargaining with the Hubs about a #2. Not now, not a year from now. Maybe 2 years from now, when big sister is off to preschool and hardly in need of all the attention and affections I'm still itching to bestow upon her. I'm just waiting for her dad to be on the same page. He's convinced we don't need another, and even more certain he doesn't want one more. I'm just gonna sit tight and wait for him to change his mind. I have a feeling it will be the first time he tries to move in for a hug, and she squirms away, rolling her eyes, saying, "Puhleeze, Dad. I'm pah-laying. Go. Away." Maybe then.

For now, I'm sure he doesn't need to worry about me springing another one on him. If I can't even find the time to chronicle my semi-interesting thoughts on a regular basis, I know I'm not ready to juggle multiple children on top of everything else.

oh crap

I'm way behind on this thing. Something interesting to come soon, I'm sure.

spring cleaning, cont'd

This week, I've got this to focus on. Project #1 from last week was a bit of a hassle, but I got it done... sort of. I think the writer wanted readers to start with a clean wardrobe. That didn't happen because I can never seem to get out of the laundry gutter, as I like to call it, where I always have like 3 loads of laundry to do at any given time. Readers were also instructed to take "before" and "after" pictures of our closets, but that was just asking too much from this slacker. Besides which, all you'd see in my pictures would be my complete lack of a respectable closet.

But still, I cleaned out the crap, found a ton of clothes to donate, and got my closet to the point where I can find what I'm looking for and hang things back up with ease. Yay!

So, compared to the closet, tackling paper clutter isn't that big of a deal. I actually try not to let junk mail and old bills pile up from month to month.

Fortunately, I'm kind of wiped out with a nasty cold this week, so my working out is at a minimum and I can do things like *trying* to create a neat, organized, clutter-free home. I can't imagine I'd be very good at this cleaning thing if I was out running every day. My goal is to get this house in good working order so that in a couple weeks, I can head out every day and not worry that I'm leaving a mountain of chores behind to have to deal with at the end of the day.

I don't know about anyone else, but I have a hard time even enjoying my runs when I know the Stinky Clothes Monster (or, my husband's hamper) is waiting for me when I get back. And I have yet to know what it feels like to have a day where I don't see anything that needs to be done. It's actually kind of annoying.

My husband couldn't care less. When I work on the weekends, the house all but explodes and he's just watching Speed TV after the daughter goes to bed without a care in the world. How do men do that- just turn off their peripheral vision and ignore the messes surrounding them?

Well, since I can't do that, I've got blogs instructing me on all things house-wifey.

Cleaning up my act.

I've never been an orgainized person and I've always been a procrastinator. While I always manage to get the big shit taken care of, like final reports or putting cribs together in time, it's the day-to-day I struggle with.

Keeping my kitchen and its one square foot of counterspace workably clear.

Starting laundry and actually getting clothes folded and back in my dresser or closet in the same day.

Finding a sensible location for our keys, sunglasses, wallets and various bags that we'll actually return those items to upon arriving home (so that it doesn't take half an hour to find everything the next time we go out).

Mail. Like, bothering to open it, let alone sort it and eventually, throw away the junk we don't need. If it weren't for online bill pay options, we'd be in serious trouble because seriously, who even deals with mail anymore?

Miraculously, I actually keep things clean. I dust, vacuum, wash dishes and disinfect the counters (when clear). I clean up after myself when my meal explodes in the microwave and I scrub toilets. These are NOT habits I took from my home growing up, but because I grew up in a messy house, I knew I didn't want bad habits to spill over (literally, and figuratively) into my adult years. Organizing, however, is a completely different game. It involves not throwing things on the first convenient shelf or stuffing crap into drawers, which, right now, pretty much constitutes "cleaning up" for me.

So that's why I'm going to jump on this bandwagon.

There's an element of accountability with before and after pictures, managable deadlines, plus, I work better when I actually have an assignment. I run with a goal race in mind, I plan my day around the places I need to be and when I need to be there, but when it comes to orgainzing my home... well, "eventually" just never comes. Knowing I need to get something done by Friday, though. Well that I think I can do.

What a Saturday should feel like

Don't forget to give yourself a day. This is what I learned from today, a relatively easy Saturday, for once.

Last Saturday I attended an 8:00 AM restaurant meeting, followed by a double shift with no break because, ya know, people needed to eat. No problem- I figure 14 hours on my feet counts as something toward training or fitness maintenance. But it doesn't make me miss taking advantage of my weekends for getting outdoors any less. And that kind of positive thinking about my job can only carry me so far when I work weekend after weekend after weekend of double shifts, such as what happened in the month of January and some of February, too.

So I decided, with this new gig as an indoor cycling instructor, I'd whittle down my availability at work to exclude Sundays. Money's good, but sanity is better.

Today, I got to work (just lunch), work out (just me and a bike, no class), shower (not in a rush to get clean before the gym daycare closes), AND go OUT for dinner (not scramble to put together some sort of piecemeal, random-ass meal).

And I get to sleep in tomorrow?! What??

Seriously, folks. If you don't have the time to give yourself, make it. You'll thank yourself later. Your health, happiness, and well-being are worth SO much more than any day's to-do list.

born freeeeeeeeeeeee

I took a little vay-cay from the jogger for the past couple months because I was just tired of pushing the damn thing. Also, my increasingly outspoken child went through a fun little phase where I couldn't pass anything that resembled a playground or swing set without screaming at me to stop, thus adding half an hour to an hour to our route during an already crunched time slot. Plus, gym daycare = interaction with other kiddies = sleepy toddler.

Well, spring starts in February in Georgia (gotta love that) and Atlanta was MADE for running. Sure, it's hilly, but there are so many parks, and sidewalks everywhere, and it's so beautiful and full of trees (there are laws to keep it that way, another cool thing about this city). I had to dust off the jogger after a short winter in the garage and make my child sit still for a little while so mommy could run, with the reward being - of course - the Mecca of toddler playgrounds.

There is just nothing better than setting out, leaving the watch and GPS at home, and enjoying an unusually warm and sunny day with my Mini-Me.

Sorry. And... I'm sorry. But there's just one thing I gotta say...

You know that girl who, just a few blog entries ago, was all "open your mind," and "see the silver lining" and "you have it so much better than the homeless lady?" Yeah, she's not here right now.

I have to apologize in advance because last night, something inside me snapped, and the first words out of my mouth when I arrived home were, "I'm tired of waiting on assholes."

If you're in a hurry or want to take your time, I've got you covered. I'll rush your well-done steak or I'll put a nice long hold on your 2-minute meatloaf. If you need a vegetarian-friendly version of our "Uebermeatydeluxbaconburger" I will consult with the kitchen and put something together for you. You ask me questions about flour and cornstarch, I know to ask if you  might have a gluten allergy. You tell me you're Jewish, I know to remind you the day's soup has sausage in it before letting you order it. I'm not some dumb blonde who screwed up in some part of her life and that's why I'm waiting tables instead of walking around with a briefcase and my thumb up my ass.

To summarize, I'm tired of being a good, kind, attentive, server who will accomodate your every request, and still getting treated/tipped like shit.

So here are a few guidelines from people OTHER than me (to prove I'm not just being selfish), just in case you're out to eat and you have any doubts as to what you're actually paying for:

From essortment.com: Server at a full-service restaurant – 15% to 20% of your total bill. If you’ve used a discount or received any free items, you should tip on the amount that your bill would have come to if you’d paid full price. If your party is large or placing many special requests, you should increase your tip appropriately.

From wikihow.com (in an article titled, wait for it, "How to Tip Your Sever"!): Tipping is obligatory in North America, because the waitstaff are often paid fairly low wages.

And: The general guideline is 20% for excellent service, 15% for solid service, and 10% for bad service. On average, people tip 18%. (I wish to note, "excellent" service should not mean I'm leaning forward with a shirt unbuttoned or giving you my number. It's not bad service just because you're 65, reek of alcohol, and I am not humoring your attempts at flirtation).

From tipping.org: Waiter or Waitress -- 15% to 20% of bill. If you receive excellent service or if it is a 4 star + restaurant or large parties, a 20% or greater tip is recommended.

So, again, I know I'm being a total hypocrite today, as I think back to what I posted a couple weeks ago, but after 2 weeks of barely being able to cover the cost of my babysitter with what I've earned, I've had about enough.

If you're traveling, you owe it to the people who wait on you to consider the TOTAL cost of going out to eat. None of this sticker-shock bullshit where you stiff the people taking care of you because you spent more than you intended.

Keep in mind, we (servers) often split a portion of our tips with the bartenders and foodrunners. When you tip me $2.50 on $75.56 (yes, I'm in a petty enough mood to remember the exact total of the bill), I have to tip out %1 of the total of each check to the food runner ($.76) and %2 to the bar ($1.52). Which means, I've made a whopping TWENTY-THREE CENTS for the hour you occupied my table.

And I mean, really? $2.50? Even if the entire tip was mine to keep, that's not even acceptable by Waffle-House standards.

Here's an idea. If you don't know how to tip, DON'T GO OUT TO EAT. You and your loose change aren't helping any of us pay our bills.

Again, sorry. Really had to get that off my chest. Hopefully this will be the last time I'll gripe and groan about my line of work. It is the life I chose, after all...

(But please share away. Share a link on the FB, or just keep me in mind when you're out to eat with your grouchy uncle who still tips like it's 1954.)

let's take a ride to the Motivation Station

Indoor cycling and group aerobics, from the instructor's standpoint, is kind of a mix between personal training and coaching. You've gotta know what you're doing to help clients achieve their fitness goals but in the larger group setting, you have to keep everyone going. It's never easy when you're leading a class and they start dropping like flies.

This didn't exactly happen to me, but going into this Tuesday evening class I can't help but feel I've got a little bit of an uphill battle ahead of me. The time slot I'm filling has gone without a regular teacher for months, I'm told, so attendance is already kind of low. So when a few people leave before class is over, I feel like I'm already doing something wrong. Add to that the fact that I'm new and things are, well... awkward.

I'm goofy. I like to hoot and holler. I like to push and grunt (dirty, I know). I've been to loud, crazy spin classes where the instructor yells, "GO!" and everyone jumps out of the saddle to get on a standing run and cheers! The classes I've taught so far have been reserved to the point that one would think we'd just arrived from a funeral.

Also, it's a Tuesday night. Not even half-way through the week. People generally don't enjoy Tuesdays.

So I need a little help.

What tools do you use to motivate others?

What have others said/done to really help push you?

Any cheesy song suggestions to get my class to crack a few smiles?

Perspective

This past weekend I waited on a group of six men from Holland who were in town for a farming convention. They had absolutely NO clue about the gratuity system in the United States (as in, the company pays my taxes, about $2.20/hour) and everything else I earn comes from tips and tips alone. And they really weren't just playing dumb. Like, they barely spoke English, but we all knew enough German (a bit different from Dutch) to make it work. But still, I didn't want to offend anyone by throwing out the old, "Hey, just so ya know... you gotta tip me..." because I HAVE run into a similar situation and the people I was waiting on then just gave me that Duh kind of look and said, "Ja, Vee know."

Anyway, these gentlemen, left me nothing. Not a blank receipt, not even the change to round up to the next whole dollar. Nothing but a blank book.

Their tab was $235.00. I was a little upset.

Meanwhile, at the front of the restaurant, an old homeless woman huddled in the corner, hiding behind a sign hoping that we wouldn't kick her out into the cold (it was in the 20's that night -- yes, in Atlanta). She didn't have a bunch of crap with her and didn't bother anyway, so the staff toward the front of the restaurant just let her be. But as the hours passed and she just stood there, they decided to invite her to sit and gave her a bowl of chili.

She stayed until we had to lock the doors and company policy required that only staff be allowed in the building. Before we had to gently ask her to leave, she quietly wandered toward the back of the store, found a broom, and proceeded to sweep. She wanted to do something in return for the chili.

Unfortunately, at this point, we really needed her to leave so all we could do was thank her and hope that she wouldn't freeze that night. That maybe, she had enough wits about her to try to get somewhere warm. We weren't sure that she did.

When I learned of all this, the lost tip seemed insignificant. I cut my losses and handed her some cash as I left and pleaded, "Please try to get somewhere warm tonight!" She seemed confused by this request, and muttered something in her crackly old voice that I couldn't understand. I don't know if she ever did get on a bus or train and make it to a shelter or anything, but I can only hope she did.

The realist in me knows that I can't be responsible for everyone out there who doesn't have a job or a roof over his or her head. But I have to remember that even when we have to budget and keep track of our expenses, we at least have something to budget with. I'm not going to start giving away my earnings to every less fortunate person I see, I can't pretend to be that generous. But next time the numbers come up short when I'm cashing out at the end of the night because of an ignorant table or two, I'm going to work really hard at being less concerned.

When you have immediate gratification for your hard work with a paycheck every week or cash in your pocket at the end of each shift, it's hard to put yourself into the shoes of someone who doesn't have that, either because they have to do a shit job for shit pay, or no one will give them the chance to work to begin with. Every dollar you earn is a dollar you didn't have before. Every kind gesture you can show others is a highlight to their day that they may have otherwise gone without.

The Obligatory Christmas Post

Then...

My fat, happy lump of a baby, posing for Christmas (or, just laying there because she can't escape).

She spent more time in arms and on laps than anything else, and passed out on my shoulder that evening before I could get her to her crib.

Now...

My fat, happy, hyperactive toddler needs a good deal of coaxing and distraction to get her into any pose. She no longer falls asleep on my shoulder or lap, and I'm sure she'll stay up as late as we'll let her this year.

About 10 seconds before screaming to let me allow her to run around the tree...



My hubby is pretty ambivalent about the season but I think having a toddler who reacts to the sights and sounds of the holiday makes it so much more special than it's been any other year. Sure, I got emo/sentimental about her first Christmas but it's this year that seems even more significant.

Now, we didn't do the Santa thing (she's already met one dude with an outa-control beard and I'm pretty certain she wouldn't sit on his lap). Call me selfish, but I just didn't want to deal with the screaming, germy, kids-cracked-out-on-sugar and moms-cracked-out-on-Starbucks insanity that is the scene at most American malls this time of year.

But we have had our share of walks to check out the neighbors' decorations, she's dismanteled helped with the tree a great deal, and as much as I pretend to bemoan the request every time she makes it, I love how she'll go, "Monkey? Monkey? Monkey. Monkey. MONKEY!" until I finally cave in and sing "The Christmas Monkey Song."

I just did a search for a video with no luck. All I can tell you is it took me 5 viewings to learn it and now I have to sing it until my voice caves. It's like 3 verses and 3 choruses and she knows how long the song should be so if I cut it short because we're in public, she calls me out. I'll spare your ears and not post a video of me singing it.

But I'm sure it'll be on repeat on Christmas Day.

What's your favorite Christmas song? Someone told me something yesterday about there being one about a rhinoceros. Let the You Tubing commence...

Happy Holidays!

Me vs. Christmas

Same battles, different year.
I say, "I'm gonna send cards!" Doesn't happen.
A year later, I say, "Now that I have a cute baby, I'm DEFINITELY going to send cards!" Doesn't happen.
This year, I say, "I'm going to FINALLY, REALLY send cards so people know I and my child do exist and are, in fact, still members of the family." Nope.

I say, "I'm going to plan and budget and get everyone a nice gift." I don't plan, don't budget, and people try to act happy about their cookies and socks.
A year later, immediate family agrees, "No one will buy anything over $40 for anyone else." Then, I get so much crap I'm in a funk of guilt and shame until June.
This year, we vow to only bestow unto others functional, thoughtful gifts, so I'll make and freeze my best meat sauce for relatives and they will, in turn, spend way too much money on me again and I'll be forced to feel like I'm living on hand-outs.

Why do the holidays do this to us? Year after year, we get up our hopes and expectations for the "ideal" Christmas to come to pass and every year, it doesn't! I'm not one for getting all worked up about the holidays but one, just one year I'd like to feel like a real Mom/Wifey/Benevolent Neighbor & Relative and get shit baked, wrapped, and in the mail on time.

Not this year, I guess. I think I'll just get a bunch of oven-ready heure d'oeuvres from Trader Joe's, give people specialty bars of chocolate in make-shift gift baskets, then duck out for a run during nap & the 18th run of "A Christmas Story," and call it a day. As far as cards go.. hopefully the family I'm "friends" with on Facebook will pass the word that we are well and wish all of our other blood relatives a wondrous holiday.

Christmas, I am no match for you and all of your... Christmasyness.

peace, love, Final Fantasy and old vine zin

This post is inspired in part by the holiday - Thanksgiving - and an article I read in Runner's World several months ago. I don't remember the title or the author, but the gist of it was about changing the language of our own thought processes to have a more positive lookout on the tasks that lay before us. But not in a lame, reciting affirmations in front of the mirror, kind of way. It's just making one simple change to our internal dialogue: every time you think "I have to...", think, "I get to."

In the context of running, making this change certainly makes it easier to make it out the door. I get to wake up. I get to put on my sneakers. I get to go run. This tends to automatically make me think of the people who don't have the same opportunity I do to hit the pavement, and I naturally start to appreciate the run that much more.

But if I take it a step further and apply this thinking to other aspects of my life, well, things look pretty damn good.

For me, it's "I got to work today." On a day when people were lined up outside of soup kitchens because they're unemployed and can't afford a turkey dinner for their families, homeless, or both, I got the opportunity to pick up a busy shift. Now, I won't lie and say that by hour 6 of the non-stop Turkey frenzy, I wasn't hoping that people would eventually tire of entering the front door, but I won't soon worry about if I'll be able to afford groceries next week, or when I'll have my next hot meal. The people I took care of today took care of me, and for that, I'm extremely grateful.
And now, I get to clack away on my laptop like I've come to some sort of world-altering realization, I get to enjoy a glass (or 2) of wine, I get to watch my husband play his video game, and in the morning, I get to be the first person my daughter smiles at when I open her door. Life is good. (Hey, that's a nice little slogan. No wonder that T-shirt company makes a fortune.)

Instruction Manual: How to Master Moving Twice in Six Months, Mother's Addition

Newbie Mistake: Trying to go about all other aspects of your day-to-day as normal.

Seasoned Pro: Forget it.

Everything will take twice as long. Twice as long to get dressed because you don't know if you packed that shirt or if it's in the laundry, twice as long to prepare a meal as you deliberate questionable concoctions of random pantry items so you don't have to throw them away, and twice as long to go anywhere because every trip involves loading the car full of trash to take out or crap to donate to Good Will. (Editor's Note: My sincere apologies to Good Will for all the crap we're giving you. It's good crap, we promise.)

Newbie Mistake: Holding onto items because you're *pretty sure* you'll wear them again.

Seasoned Pro: No. No you won't.

For starters, let me clear up a few things: You're NOT going to take the time to go get those pants hemmed, you're NOT going to make it to Hobby Lobby to find the ONE button that matches the rest on that blouse, and now that you know what it feels like to have a baby where your lungs should be, you're NEVER going to wear that sexy corset top ever again. Trust me, go ahead and lighten your load and you'll be much happier when you discover your new place doesn't have as much closet space, after all.

Newbie Mistake: "Really, my kid's great. I can pack and move and take care of her at the same time, no problem.

Seasoned Pro: No. No you can't.

You might be Super Mom and you might have a Wonder Baby who'll peacefully flip through board books for hours, but as soon as the boxes come out, the desk drawers are being emptied and the newspaper is flying everywhere, she will get into E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G. Even the most careful parent will find herself chasing after a toddler gleefully running around with AAA batteries clutched in a death-grip or lunging after that child about to perform a base-jump off a box. Now is not the time for parental pride. Ask for help, lots of it.

Newbie Mistake: Worrying about not running/working out for a week.

Seasoned Pro: Save yourself from your exercise OCD, or your back will make you pay.

That's pretty self-explanatory.

Newbie Mistake: Going for hours on end, staying up late to "just get it done" and basically burning the candle at both ends.

Seasoned Pro: No matter what you do, this whole moving thing will occupy your life, period.

No use in trying to rush, multitask, or work efficiently. Life will be crazy for a couple weeks but sure enough, you'll get back to normal, I promise. Hence my blogging while my daughter naps instead of rummaging through toiletries under the bathroom sink. I'll get it done one way or another, and if I don't, well, there's always later. When it comes down to crunch time we'll get shit knocked out and be on our way. Don't spend every waking minute fussing over details. If you don't sit down and take a break, you'll go nuts, and then when you do finally ask for help no one will want to because you'll be a nerve-wracked, sleep-deprived beyotch. No one wants to help a beyotch.

*~The End~*



'da marathon

All in all, it was a pretty uneventful race, but I somehow found a way to fill a page with inconsequential details and, of course, a little TMI. Enjoy :)

The Start:

Chilly, 46 degrees, crisp and clear. I was able to warm up enough jogging and jumping around to start in shorts, a long-sleeved shirt over my T-shirt, gloves and my running cap. There was the usual bottleneck at the start but things opened up within the first few miles. I had to be careful to go out too quickly because of the cool air and the downhill start but my first 4 miles were still at an 8:00/mi. pace. Whoops.


The Single Digits / 1st Third:

Things were great through mile 8. I kept the ipod off to keep myself from getting pumped by a poorly-timed Green Day song and running too quickly. My mantra through the first third was "easy peasy." I thought about how much nicer the weather was than what I've been training in all summer. I thought about what I'd order at my old restaurant when we went out to eat later (side note: Papas Bravas, Spanish-style home fries, if you will, are FANTASTIC after a marathon). I thought a little about my race strategy and settled on deciding that whether it was fast or slow, I just wanted to be albe to keep running, so that's what I did.


The Double Digits / 2nd Third:

After mile 8 began the start of a 10-mile uphill battle. I didn't realize this until about 10 miles later; a fact I would have known if I'd simply looked at the elevation chart. Whoops. I knew about miles 8-12. I was familiar with those roads and had run them often in years past. Beyond that I figured we'd hit rolling hills, not mile after mile on non-stop, low-grade incline that would slowly eat away at my calf muscles. My pace suffered a bit too, as I struggled to maintain 9:00/mi splits through this portion of the race. The good news is, I kept running. No major GI issues and no major pains, even though the run itself was becomming a pain in the butt.


The 20's / "The 2nd Half":

We've all read about and/or experienced mile 20, the wall, and that the 6.2 miles following it are longer and harder than everything before it. What was great about yesterday is that this wasn't the case for me. By mile 19 we were back on Swamp Rabbit Trail - part of a rails-to-trails path - and heading downhill at a nice .5-1% grade. I was able to bring my pace back down a little but did struggle with the fact that my legs were starting to want to lock up and my low back was killing me. I pushed on though and started up the ipod to rock through the last portion of the race.


Mile 23:

Just as I started wondering if I might be getting close to a wall, things started feeling funny "down there" (did I mention I was surfing the crimson tide?) and I had to STOP and clench my cheeks together to keep things from, uhm, moving. I worried the immodium I took beforehand was going to completely fail me so I had to walk for half a minute until the sense of urgency went away. The combo of cramps plus running had made things suddenly rather uncomfortable. But I slowly got back into a jog and then a run just as I came up to my husband and mother a couple miles from the finish. I didn't really say anything to them, just took a swig of water from the bottle Zac handed me, and muttered, "gotta keep moving," and ran off. Later, Zac told me I had a real funny look about me but when I told him what was going on, he went, "Ahhaaaa..."


The Finish:

By mile 24 I was back at my old clip but realized the long uphill had slowed me down too much to qualify for Boston and just totally did not care. And I loved that I did not care. After all, there's always the spring. I knew I'd be proud of my time so I plodded on and conserved a little energy for a strong-looking finish, complete with devil horns and sticking out my tongue to the camera guy. (pictures later, if I can steal them from the website).


The Day After:

I'm walking like I'm 86 and my calves woke me up a few times last night, but other than that I feel good, I feel accomplished, and I'm looking forward to another couple days of lounging and pigging out before driving back to Georgia.

reluctantly crouched at the starting line

I've been giving a small bit of thought lately to what I'm running for this Saturday, and all the usual answers just aren't appeasing my self inquiry.

To prove to myself that I can do it.
Well, already have, twice.

To prove to myself that I can do it after birthing a child.
Meh, not really an issue. If I can run around a restaurant for 14 hours, I can run 4 (hopefully less, which brings me to the next possible answer...)

To prove to myself that I can run it in 3:40 or faster after birthing a child.
I'm not sure just how much that whole childbirth thing plays into Saturday's race, considering she's now 15 months old and everything's been healed up for quite some time. I'm pretty far beyond the point where I can boast about my running abilities "just" after having a baby. Three hours and forty minutes (the cut-off for my age group for the Boston Marathon) is more about training and stamina. I think I have the stamina, even if I haven't trained as intensly as in the past.

So I know I can run it, and I think I can run it well. What is it then that drives me to do another? I mean, I don't exactly like running 26.2 miles. The fun disappears somewhere between mile 13 and mile 20, and the last 6.2, well... we all know how awesome THAT is.

My best guess is that I want to enjoy the entire thing. I want to feel like the distance and effort come naturally, and that maybe, some day, I might be able to do something even more crazy, like an Ironman, or even a 50-miler. Because as fantastic an achievement as running a marathon may be, let's face it: Oprah's not signing up for any ultras, so that level of BAMF-ness can remain firmly intact.

In the end, I don't think I'll know the answer to why I needed to run another marathon until I cross the finish line. Because then I'll be able to pinpoint the exact thing that pushed me through the race and made me keep going, and use that as my strength and focus as I move forward to see where else this crazy running thing might take me.

Two-Oh

My 20-miler wasn't the glorious laugh-in-the-marathon's-face experience I had with the 18, but it was... nice.

"Nice" is not a word most people would use to describe having to run 20 miles, but that's about the only word I can think of to sum it up. It wasn't spectacular - no land speed records this time - but the weather was absolutely gorgeous, I didn't have to guzzle water like I've had to all summer, and having a Garmin to run with allowed me to make a few wrong turns and not freak out because hey, it was all going toward the same mileage anyway.

But my run did bring me to another question: why do some people run so much when preparing for a marathon. Besides my weekly long runs (with cut-back weeks / aka weeks of working too much to attempt anything more than 6 miles at a time) I haven't been doing much of anything, yet I know I'm pretty much on track for the BQ. How is this possible with 20-30 mpw?

And what if... what if I could run more? I'm almost scared to think what some *real* training might do.

Well, I'll have most of the rest of Autumn and the beginning of Winter to decide where my running takes me. I figure after I run on the 30th (25 day! Eek!) and qualify for Boston (while we're being cocky, here), I'll take some time to x-train and focus on some shorter races before deciding if I'll actually run Boston, and how hard I'll train for it or if I'll just sit back and enjoy the race on cruise control.

18 miles

Number of marathons: 2 going on 3

Number of 18-mile runs: 2, including the one I did yesterday.

Long story short, I didn't know crap about marathon training for my first marathon. I thought it was enough that I was working doubles at Olive Garden, racing around like a headless chicken trying to keep up with never-ending soup, salad and breadsticks. My longest run pre-marathon was 14 miles, about 3 weeks out. I finished the race in 3:59:59. I was actually doing pretty well up until mile 20, when everything completely fell apart, and my limbs about fell off. My body was rejecting all attempts to refuel or rehydrate with gut-wrenching cramps. My hips felt like they had become bolted in place and would no long swing. I got out lucky with my barely-sub-4.

The second marathon went better. I had successfully completed an 18-mile run, but bonked on the 20, only doing about 16. I did track workouts every week and hill repeats every other. I cross-trained to keep my IT bands in check. I went to yoga and spin every week, biked to work, and got a few deep-tissue massages. The result was a much better marathon, my only complaint being that I, once again, was experiencing major tummy issues. Gu's still hit my stomach lining like a bag of nails so I had to wog (walk/jog) a few miles until everything sorted itself out. I crossed the line in 3:39:00.

For marathon #3, I feel like I'm somewhere between the 1st and the 2nd when it comes to preparation. I'm doing the miles, but without a gym membership my only cross-training is yoga in the living room and serving. I did speed work for the first few weeks of a running regimen until I started working again and my only option to run was with the jogging stroller most days of the week. Yet somehow, I feel stronger than ever.

Maybe it was labor, or marching up and down hills every day, several times a day with a 25-lb baby on my back and a 60-lb dog leashed to each arm, or simply the fact that after a long day or a hard run I can't just collapse because I still have a child (and husband) to tend too, but somehow, I am stronger, and maybe faster, than before.

I ran 18 in 2:34 - about 13 on a treadmill during monsoon-like conditions, and the other 5 outside during a break in the deluge (once the Falcons/Saints game got to half-time, that is). I felt good. Like crazy good. When I got outside I was practically laughing out loud to myself that it was insane how good I felt, and that surely something was wrong with me. I only listened to my ipod (a bit of a crutch for longer runs) for the last 2 miles and finished fast.

I've heard from a lot of moms that they feel like they are better runners post-baby(ies) than before. I wonder what, exactly, causes this change. Is it because we're forced into a new roll in addition to all the others we play? Is it because our days off are still days on? Is it because labor and delivery elevates us to a whole new level of endurance and pain tolerance?

Who knows? All I do know, is that I'm doing 20 next week, and I am not going to bonk.

More conversations with myself.

Thank goodness for blogs, because if I was trying to keep any kind of record of my life in an actual diary (you know, the kind with paper, and binding?) it'd probably have an inch of dust on it.

Life's been interesting. Some ups and downs as of late, mostly my own, and mostly in my own head. I've been unimaginably frustrated with life in south-metro Atlanta (which is not Atlanta at all) and my husband bringing home stress from work hasn't helped. I'm still struggling with some homesickness, and sticking to any kind of training schedule has only been semi-successful at best.

I've been methodically checking off my long runs, at least. I'm due to run 18 Sunday. I have 36 days until the marathon. I ran a respectable 5K earlier this evening (not a PR, at 23:00, but not bad after running a couple miles beforehand and it being 87 degrees out). Like a trusted old friend, Running is there for me to interact with or just hang out quietly in the same room. Sometimes there's lots to share; those are the days I bust out 8 miles in an hour then go on to work a Saturday night shift at the restaurant. Sometimes, we only flirt with the idea of getting together; the Sundays when I'm just too beat from working doubles to even consider running double-digits, and I slog through 6 miserable miles instead.

I just hate when life takes away from my running. During my pathetic 6-miler (this was last Sunday, when I was first supposed to run 18, which I postponed for this weekend) I even considered NOT doing the marathon. The whirlwind of self-doubt started to build around me until my head was a cloud thick with despondence and insecurity. What business do I have trying to attempt a marathon. What does it even mean to me, anyway? What's the point?? The tears started to rise up from somewhere deep within me and nearly choked me out, making me stop in my tracks.

Stop. I said. This is ridiculous. You're talking about one - ONE - scratched run. One tired day. What the hell would you do with yourself if you didn't run? Could you really drive up there and not run the marathon? Retard.

And with that, I was back on track.

Life's still stressful, and so is running, sometimes. But more often than not, it's still been my reprieve. With highs barely cresting 80 in the near future (!!!!!!!!) the hope of effortless runs - easy runs that are actually easy, hard runs that don't render me useless for the rest of the day - fills me with a new sense of possibility.

Also, my husband just got a job. In Atlanta. The Real Atlanta. Where there are Cuban restaurants, independent businesses, sidewalks, parks, and the Beltline.

More happiness and optimism to come, I promise.

Just a Quickie (that's what she said)

(Oh Michael Scott... I miss The Office. Are they really going to try to bring that back without Steve Carrell?)

Just a quick update on this whole running/marathon training thing.

Had 14-15 scheduled for yesterday. I'm only loosely following a Douglas-esque-type plan, and by "following" I'm really just looking at the progression of weekly mileage and trying to stick to that. I like the tempo repeats though and have been doing those. Don't think I'll do the MP repeats, however. My goal MP is 8:20/mile. I can't stand to run that pace on a TM (the only option I have right now for any kind of speed or tempo work since I don't really want to run on the local high school's black track at the end of a sunny, 90+ degree day), so I always wind up doing something quicker.

Anyway, the 14.7-mile run was really great but wound up being broken in two due to lunch plans. I ran 8.3 in the morning and bolted home to shower and get ready to go out only to get there and find out the baby really needed a nap and the husband already told his parents we weren't joining them. Whoops. So I decided I'd head back out in the evening to run a 10K loop to "finish" my run. I ran it in about 50 minutes.

Really?? After running a little over 8 miles in the morning I bust out a sub-8 pace for my second shift? No wonder I'm getting bored doing MP runs.

I'm not going to go messing with my time goal for the marathon just yet, but I'm realizing that with a 16-miler scheduled for next weekend and me still having 2 months until the marathon, a lot of good things might happen to my running. I really, really really can't wait for the temperatures to drop. This heat and humidity has me feeling like a bull in a cage; I just know I have an aggressive pace inside of me, it's just waiting for the right conditions to send me flying out the gates.

But, not yet. There's still ridonculous conditions to content with and I need to err on the safe side because now that I'm serving again (yipee... well, it's work, at least), I don't want to run myself ragged. So the hubby and I stocked up on 5-Hour Energy's, Gatorade, Gu's, and Bodyglide. We look like we're going home to conduct some sort of experiment with all of these miniature bottles, shiny foil packages, and brightly colored fluids. Bottom's up!

"Eat, Pray, Love" - A Runner's Version

Eat
Food = Energy
Food = Love
Food = Vice

Finding balance between my never-ending desire to consume anything and everything around me that is made up of simple sugars and my more reasonable awareness that I require a healthy diet to fuel my running is tricky.

I used to have issues with running and eating. I ran because I ate, instead of eating because I ran. I couldn't consume a single calorie without worrying about when and how I could burn it off later in the day. A couple marathons and a baby later, I'm obviously much smarter about the whole thing... usually.

My problem now is that I know all too well that every calorie will be burned and then some. So I tend to go a little overboard. Spoons in the Nutella jar, 2-for-1 Pop Tarts, buttermilk pancakes kind of overboard. It just all tastes SO good. I've been feeling a little guilty about it, but I guess I have to figure that I do typically eat some fruits and vegetables during the day, take my multivitamin, and that I feel really well overall.

I think it all comes down to common sense. You can't subsist on Nutella alone (can you?) but you can't get into the habit of depriving yourself while training for any kind of endurance event. Love yourself, but respect yourself, too.

Pray
Two of my favorite paragraphs from this book so far:

1) Flexibility is just as essential for divinity as is discipline.
Your job, then, should you choose to accept it, is to keep searching for the metaphors, rituals and teachers that will help you move ever closer to divinity. The Yogic scriptures say that God responds to the sacred prayers and efforts of human beings in any way whatsoever that mortals choose to worship-- just so long as those prayers are sincere.

2) When Gilbert has a conversation with a friend about searching for meaning for life and loss through religion, he tells her, "You don't want to go cherry-picking a religion."
Which is a sentiment I completely respect except for the fact that I totally disagree. I think you have every right to cherry-pick when it comes to moving your spirit and finding peace in God. I think you are free to search for any metaphor whatsoever which will take you across the worldly divide whenever you need to be transported or comforted.

I've been reading this book in awe of Gilbert's drive to travel the world in pursuit of her own happiness and to find balance in all areas of her life. To her credit (and to combat how the movie trailer portrays the story), she is not out there just to eat pasta and find love. She actually makes a promise to herself to remain celibate throughout *most* of her journey, and spends a great deal of time scrubbing floors at an Ashram in India where she has to wake up every day at 3:30 AM.

I do not have the desire to dedicate 18 hours a day to meditation, but this book reminded me of something I have also read somewhere else: Prayer isn't just sitting down and wishing for good things to happen or for bad things not to happen. It isn't just begging and pleading. It's opening a door and allowing your soul to mingle with the world around you, pouring yourself into your surroundings and allowing the beauty of the world to come into your heart. It's an exchange of energy - of love.

While I am not down on my knees in a pew praying every Sunday, I realized I am praying every time I run. Sometimes it is a selfish prayer ("Please let me finish this run in one piece. Please let me not die of dehydration."), other times, there are no words at all. I'm just... aware. Every footfall, heartbeat, rustling of leaves, and sunbeam through the canopy of trees is enhanced. When I find myself focusing on that I'm filled with so much amazement and energy, I sometimes forget that I'm running.

Love
This is the part where I say that I LOVE running, right?

Well, I do, but not like that.

Running makes it so that I can probably eat a bit more junk than a sedative person ought to. Running also gives me the chance to quiet my mind and connect with my surroundings. For those things, I am very grateful to have the ability to run and have a deep appreciation not just for the sport, but for the physical movement, itself. So I love running, just enough to do it as long as time and my body will allow, but not so much that it would take precedence over some major life event.

I think it takes more than a love of running to run. You need to love other things and receive a feeling of love FROM other places as well. When I run, I'm filled with the love I have for my daughter, my husband, our life as a family and our pets. I love the scenery, exchanging waves with others, the relief from finishing and the sense of accomplishment that follows. I love feeling strong, the slightly narcissistic sense that others are looking on in admiration and the way my butt looks in jeans.

Point is, it's not just the physical act of running, by itself, that I love. I don't think I could love running merely for the gross motor repetition any more than I'd love to play the piano with the sound completely muted. I don't just push keys for the sensation it provides my fingers. I need the sound, too. I need a sense of flow and the art of composition. So does my running. That's where I find the love.

at least my mileage is better than my monthly blog average

I was going to look at the previous blog to see where I left off when I remembered- Oh yeah, total Whinebitchfest. Okay well let's get this one off to a better start, shall we?

I'm running a marathon.

In 12 weeks.

WTF is wrong with me?

I was *supposed* to meet a group of lovely ladies and now very dear friends at the California International Marathon in December and run THAT 26.2 mile course, which would give me 18 weeks to train, taper and all, starting today. Well with me not working (not having found/looked hard enough for employment and not really being a certified trainer yet) the bank account will simply not allow for such an excursion.

So the only reasonably local marathon I can make it to before 2010 comes to a close that might also give me the opportunity to attempt to qualify to run Boston next year is in 12 weeks back up in Greenville. The Pros: pseudo-hometown appeal, Oma and In-laws are there to watch the baby in case I'm limping across the finish line, no hotel costs or boarding fees, and it's the day before Halloween (I'm feeling a costume). The Con: I have 12 weeks to get ready.

Despite all my complaining about how hard it's been to run here, I've still been netting about 20 miles per week on pavement and getting in some cross-training. It hasn't been comfortable, or pretty. Not even the treadmill can offer any kind of respite from the inferno because "fix the fitness room's A/C" is not a priority on the apartment complexes to-do list. Seriously, 4 miles on the machine and I'm as soaked as if I'd jumped in the pool. But instead of smelling like chlorine or bromine or whatever cancer-causing chemicals they use, I reek of kidney byproduct.

Outdoors, there is no breeze except near water, which simply means the hot air is moving, instead of hanging in the air like a moldy bath towel.

Wow I'm really rockin' the imagery today.

My point is that I've been running and I survived July. Now I just have to survive a very ambitious training program and make it to the starting line on 10/30. It all kicks off todat with some tempo work, followed with some easy runs later in the week and 10 miles on Saturday. From there, my long runs go 12, 15, 16, 18, 20, 22, 18, with a couple cut-back weeks and a 2-week taper.

On a completely different note, Alexis turns 1 this week. She made it through the first year. WE made it through the first year. And most importantly, she survived a crazy mom and all of those bumpy jogger rides. She's the most amazing little person I've ever had the pleasure to know. I often look at her doing something brilliant and clearly advanced for her age (I'm not biased much, am I?) and think that she couldn't have possibly come from me. I feel honored to be this child's mother.

Then...

Now...

c'mon ride the train

I've hesitated to update my blog for some time because every time I sat down to write anything, it turned into a bitch-fest. Now I'm back and I confess that I've been riding the pity party train, with envy at the helm and spewing a black cloud of misery out the smokestack.

What happened, I see now, is that I got burnt out after moving, and my body was simply rebelling against running. Over the past few weeks though, I've been paying too much attention to how dedicated other runners seem to their routines, thinking that something was really wrong with me that I couldn't muster the energy or drive to just commit to the miles. I mean, these are people who have several kids, organize races and run for causes, have jobs, AND train for marathons/triathlons/adventure relays. What right do I have even considering myself a part of any community with such capable people, when I struggle to drag myself out of bed before dawn to run 4 miles?

I didn't want to log on and dump all of that negativity here, but there it is.

I had to clear my head. Something wasn't right with my thinking and my husband would be the first to tell you that he'd more than had it with my self-deprecating talk. I needed to get back in the game, and I wasn't going to do it by reading fellow runners' blogs or Facebook posts and trying to compare running log notes.

I had to just run.

Thursday, July 8th. My car's thermometer stares me down with a bright red "103". My husband is watching the baby and I have a date with a 10K course that winds along the cart paths near Lake Peachtree. Still, I'm very excited. This is my first run since moving here that was:

A) Without my darling running partner.
B) Without my other darling running partner.
C) More than 5 miles.
D) More than 5 miles and not on a treadmill.

Just me, myself and I and, oh yeah, the highest temps I've ever run in.

It wasn't a great run by any means. I stopped every mile to gulp from my water bottle. I stopped at a water fountain and awkwardly positioned myself to let the water stream down my neck and back. But it did do one thing that no amount of self-affirmation in the bathroom mirror could have done. (Not that I've ever done that. Ever.) It reassured me that I was, in fact, still a runner. I mean, who else was out there? Other runners, that's who. All of them as red-faced and dripping with sweat as I was. All of us looking forward to the moment they could return to air conditioning. And I'm willing to bet, all of us as grateful to be healthy enough to withstand such an activity on this, the hottest day so far this summer, and still be crazy enough to look forward to doing it all over again tomorrow.

My runs are not funding cancer research or helping unborn children. I'm not crossing the country for anyone's benefit or memory. Let me be clear in saying that all of those things are wonderful and incredibly admirable, I'm just not there yet. Maybe once running and I have a more solid and reliable relationship, I can safely sign up for events and do great things for greater people and know that I'll always be able to put the miles in to make the effort worth it.

For now, though, I'm looking forward to running a bit more on my own. For me. Because I can. Because I'm a runner.

boxes

I love packing.

One of my favorite George Carlin routines is about our stuff. Our addiction to and accumulation of stuff. And that's the truth, if I didn't have so much ***damn stuff, I wouldn't need a house.

But we don't have a whole lot of stuff; we have more than a little but far less than most families I know. As Carlin points out, people move to have more room for more stuff. That's not us.

I've always been pretty anal about not letting our possessions get out of hand. The home I grew up in was always outrageous when it came to that. Everything we wanted to keep, things we thought we might need to keep, and everything else we were too lazy to actually sort through just sat in piles all throughout the house. These piles grew and grew and got shoved into corners, against walls, and forgotten on staircases. Watch an episode of "Hoarders." We weren't that far off from needing an intervention, ourselves.

I moved out of my house for the third the last time when I was 22 and I made a vow to myself to never, EVER, get buried in crap again.

Still, here I am with my life, my stuff, in boxes, and I know this moving process would be a whole lot easier if there weren't so many to fill. I just get endlessly annoyed at the decision-making that goes into sorting, packing, and moving. What's this? When was the last time I used/wore it? Is it my husband's? One of his exes? What the fuck is he doing still holding on to an old book of hers, anyway? And a how-to book about love?! Ha!! Obviously that wasn't of any help!

Wait, what were we talking about?

For the most part, I'm actually a thrower-away-er, sometimes to a fault. As per the nature of this blog, allow me to make another comparison between running and my life. Running: Moving quickly in one direction, not looking back (Except maybe on an out-and-back route, which I usually hate. I much prefer a loop.). You can't hold onto shit during a run. Hot spots? You can take off your sneakers and rub your feet or you can keep running. Sore legs? You can go home and pop a couple Advil or you can keep running. Hitting a wall? You can sit down and give up or keep running. Just not feeling it today? You can wallow in the reasons why or you can keep fucking running.

So when it comes to my life, I try not to hold on or hold back. Anything that conjures up sentiments I wish to retire, I throw away. Things that bear no relevance to my current situation, I toss. If it brings me back to a place I don't want to be anymore, it goes buh-bye. Whether it's two-week-old cheese that might still be OK or fifteen-year-old wrinkled and humidity-stained notebooks with song lyrics scrawled on the covers and "poetry" (read: Pre-teen Angst-ridden Lamentations) squeezed in between pages of biology notes.

Each mile is not the same as the one before it, and can not be run if you do not allow yourself to pass from one mile to the next. So go the pages of life.

a little bit about what I do... or, what I did

My last day at the restaurant was Saturday and I am proud to say I have survived being a server. Rather, the restaurant survived me. Too many dishes and pieces of glassware did not. You're welcome, Mikasa.

I was never married to being a server. Most nights, the latest I stay up is because of work, otherwise I'm in bed after the eleven-o-clock news. I suck at building a rapport because I don't remember names or faces very well. Serving has infiltrated my dreams on more than one occasion (my personal favorite: the Perpetually In the Weeds scenario, where I'm sat table after table after table and everyone is giving me their order and each time I try to go ring it in another table is sat and is whistling me over until everyone in the entire dining room is glaring at me because they have no food, no water, and no sweet tea), but for the most part, I don't carry my job around with me. Really.

But it's been one of the best jobs I've ever had. I love my coworkers, our Chef, Sous Chef, and the rest of the kitchen crew. I really like my boss, despite being certain that she had it in for me on more than one occasion (coming from the Olive Garden didn't help). The job has certainly had its ups and downs; too often would I leave hating myself because no matter what I did, I couldn't seem to make anyone happy. But just as often I'd leave with a sense of accomplishment. The best days were the ones when little old ladies would all but pinch my cheeks and tell me how fabulous everything was (even if they still think it's 1957 and tip me in change), or a little kid smiles up at me and says, "You're the BEST waitress EVER!"

When I was pregnant I pretty much rocked it, tip-wise. Except I didn't show through my work shirt until I was like 7 1/2 months. One time, I was describing some dishes to a table where a woman very engrossed in our menu when she looked up, startled, and said, "Oh my god you're pregnant!" The thing I got all the time is that not one part of me looked the least bit pregnant, except for the basketball sticking out from under my shirt. On my last day before my maternity leave, a customer asked the usual "how much longer do you have?" "Uh... like, 3 weeks and 1 day..." and she goes "WHAT are you still doing HERE? Go sit down!"

And the bad days, well, I can laugh at them all now.

Like the time I made a 6% tip for no apparent reason (3 days ago, actually). The couple was all nice and smiley whenever I was at the table, but in an intense argument when I wasn't, according to my manager.

Or the couple that our manager had to kindly ask to leave because their argument was far less discreet. There was yelling. And cursing. Very loud. On Valentine's Day. Ah... romance.

And the time I got yelled at and had a check presenter practically thrown back at me by a man who was very upset that someone else at the table had arranged payment with me before the end of the meal, because he had to pay and there would be no exception.

The numerous occasions that I had to tactfully explain (without sounding condescending) that "bruschetta" means "bread", and does not automatically signify a dish made with tomatoes, mozzarella, and basil, to a person who was already very pissed off that we didn't have "normal" bruschetta.

The people who ask to sit outside at night, only to get upset at the lack of lighting and the size font on our menus.

And my personal favorite: Waiting on a table of 20-something 20-somethings, all Latin American (before you call me a racist, my coworker Jose, who's sister had been promoted and was the reason they were all out to eat, came up to me beforehand and said, "You're waiting on them? I'm going to tell you now: I'm sorry.") Remember that serving nightmare I described. That was this table. I couldn't make it around the table to get everyone's order without the person I started with pointing at his empty beer bottle, pointing at his watch, and then throwing his hands up in a "what the fuck?" kind of gesture. Yup.

I doubt I'll be returning to serving anytime soon, except for when I come back to Greenville so the baby's grandparents can see her and I can pick up a shift to make up for the drive. Unless Kevin Gillespie's restaurant is hiring. That might be worth the commute from Newnan to Atlanta.

life is perfect, never better, distance making the heart grow fond

Immediately after completing the half marathon last month my thoughts turned to planning the next race. I looked up the national schedule for all major half and full marathon races and was disheartened to see there wouldn't be any in the southeast until fall, except for the "Twisted Ankle Trail Marathon" somewhere in Georgia in June. Me + ankles + trails has always added up to unpleasant results in the past so I don't think I'll be signing up for that one.

There's a very German-themed race one town over from where my grandmother lives in Pennsylvania (lederhosen are optional) that I thought I could try, but that too, is out of the question because of timing. The hubby and I are finally honestly for real moving to Georgia next month, about a week before this race would be taking place. So without a definite race in my near future, my running is back in "maintenance mode," if that.

I say "if that" because running doesn't really happen when it's 95, muggy, and the baby is way off her routine because of driving, weddings, and having to share a seedy hotel room with Mommy and Daddy. We logged a sweaty 3 miles today when the sun was close to setting, but that's all I've done running-wise this weekend. I have a potential date with a treadmill tomorrow though, so hopefully these legs won't rust in this humidity and I won't go insane. Because the insanity that allows me to run outdoors in this disgusting pre-summer weather (or like a hamster on its wheel at the gym) is far easier to cope with than the insanity I'd suffer if I weren't able to run at all.

PS I'm so over traveling and carseats and not seeing my husband more than 2 or 3 days a week. And why do dogs need to come down with inexplicable bouts of diarrhea as soon as I cross into another state? And why haven't I received any phone calls about showings on our house this weekend?? And I don't even know what I'm going to do for work once we are here. I keep praying the house will sell and finding a job won't be such a pressing issue, but no such luck. In the meantime, Zac already organized a sit-down at a great daycare, which is fantastic and all but shouldn't I be employed if Alexis is to go there? I don't care how cute she is pinning other babies to the floor, she's not getting enrolled 'til mommy's on someone's payroll.

And Zac wonders why I've been freaking out. Or how something as minor as missing a workout can drive me over the edge.

I'm doing the best I can to seem reasonable and in control, but really, I'm Tracy Bonham screaming "EVERYTHING'S FINE!"

Which is why I run. Because even when I have to turn around and come back, for a little while those miles provide a nice wedge between everything I don't want to deal with and my mind's current inability to cope. I'm not going to be able to make any changes to our situation. Can't make the calendar pages turn any faster.