Blue Jean Baby

This weekend was - in a word - FAN-F*#$ING-TABULOUS.  So grab your coffee, lean back, kick your feet up, and listen.  Because I wanna tell you aaaaalllll about it.

Size FOUR. 

First up - didn't workout once.  Sorry...didn't mean to make you spit out your coffee in shock.  But it's true!  Normally, not a reason for fantabulousness.  And I should rectify that statement by saying I had no formal workout.  I did, however, walk my lil' butt off.  Literally.  As Hubby and I perused the Gettysburg Outlets, I walked that lil' butt right into a pair of size four jeans.  I never thought these hips or quads would see the day!  But I was walking right out of the 6's I had on, so I figured I'd make the attempt.  Left the store with spankin' new skinny jeans AND trousers.  BOTH 4's.  And all this after a month of that nasty scale not budging.  So once again, I am proven RIGHT.  Screw the scale!  Use the jeans!

And now I'm extra energized for my back-to-back workouts today (Insanity and an easy run).  My legs feel strong, my lungs feel ready, and my enthusiasm is obnoxiously high.  Sometimes, I need a break to remind me just how much I love what I do.

Mine at last!

Second - Hubby surprised me with a chinup bar AND Selectech dumbbells!!!! Now, of course we left on our mini-vacay before I had the chance to use either piece of equipment.  And of course nothing in my training currently necessitates either piece of equipment.  But I cannot keep my sweaty paws off of 'em so I see a lifting session in my very near future (translation: Babe's naptime).  I've been dreaming lustily of this since I helped Hubby carry the weights inside on Friday.  Today, my dreams reach fruition.  *blissfulsigh*

LOVE!

Third - I discovered our favorite restaurant in Gettysburg (Gettysburg Eddie's) has added a vegetarian menu!  I was not relegated to pale lettuce leaves and lemon water!  Instead, I feasted on portabella, roasted red peppers, and an incredibly vibrant salad.  My drool is making the keyboard kind of slippery...My only regret nutrition-wise while we were out and about?  Nary a blender in sight so no Shakeology for TWO DAYS!  And I forgot to take my vitamins along, so I was feeling mildly sluggish by the time we returned to the M&M Estate last evening.  Today, however, all is good and back on track.  Shakeology has been consumed and Mama is on the verge of a workout.  Things are back to healthy!

Last (but not nearly least) - I handed out copies of my book to my sisters and my mom.  Autographed and everything!  There's something about a book that just feels good in my soul.  Those are my words and my ideas between those covers...and that's my name on the front cover.  My bucket list would be shorter if I wasn't constantly adding new goals to replace those accomplished.

It's good for your FitLife AND your soul.

Great weekend.  But it's over...and now we're movin' into a new week, a new school year, and a new challenge group.  Just because I've had an awesome three days, don't expect me to slow down and become a slug.  I've got plenty of awesome to keep going.

Can I Get A WootWoot?

Let's take a moment to truly appreciate just how far I have come, shall we?  A moment to reflect on the changes and triumphs of the last year, a nod to my goals reached and accomplishments made.  Because, well..freakin' BOOYAH, BABY!  I've busted out of so many ruts the path ahead is all smooth now.



Last summer, I was wearing a body covering black bathing suit (we all know the benefits of black), the skirt very thoughtfully covering my thighs.  This summer?  BAM.  That's a leopard print bikini, and it's one of FOUR bikinis I sported all summer long.  I have actual abs now and I really want everyone to get a good look at 'em.  On particularly good days, I find myself looking for an excuse to run errands in workout gear so strangers can be motivated by my gloriousness as well. 

Last summer, I started running and completed my first half marathon, donned in a long running skirt and tank top.  This summer, I emerged from a winter of beastly training and ran my first full marathon, donned in a sports bra and mini running skirt.  This summer, I completed my first Spartan Race and jumped over fire.   Last summer, I used walk/run intervals to train for my race. This summer, I am simply running as I train for the Runner's World Half Marathon and Festival.  (You may want to put on some sunglasses; my awesomeness is getting kinda blinding.)

Last summer, I was smack in the middle of TurboFire and it was the hardest workout I had ever managed to do.  This summer, I'm smack in the middle of Insanity and it IS the hardest workout I have ever done.  But I'm doing it and getting in even BETTER shape.  Traffic may stop by the time next summer rolls around...

Last summer, I was just beginning my road to a FitLife.  This summer, I am firmly entrenched and helping others as they begin wading in the SweatItOut pool.  I am running challenge groups, maintaining a business, and self-publishing a book.  I am on the road to certifications so I can get back to personal training and instructing.  I am headed towards even greater heights of awesomeness.  And the good news is - I'm taking YOU with me. 

All you gotta do is decide, commit, and succeed.  Three simple words.  The first two can be rough...but that last one is so terrifically sweet.  Trust me.  I know from personal experience.

My Bucket Runneth Over

Everyone's always talking, pinning, writing about their Bucket Lists.  I think I even made one myself after I saw the movie, but can't remember much of what went on it.  I vaguely recall returns to skydiving, New Orleans, and Savannah - but there had to be more to it than that, right?  I mean, where's the marathons?  The mud races? OH, RIGHT.  That was way back before my FitLife.  Looks like it's time for a revamp. 

So what's my Bucket List look like now?  Full to overflowing, I'd say.

1.  Complete the Tinkerbell Half Marathon in DisneyWorld, dressed in full costume.  Because I love that little smartass fairy.
2.  Complete the ToughMudder and the Spartan without doing any burpees, because I hate those little smartass moves.
3.  Try my hand at freelancing, because people love reading my smartass blog posts.
4.  Get my certifications in order and create a fitness empire.  (I'm done with the smartass theme now.)
5.  Turn Hubby into a fitness-lovin' machine.  I know he's got it in him somewhere.
6.  Run a 5k with my kids.  Not stroll through downtown Philly or Bethlehem, but actually run.  Without complaints.  Or whining.  Okay, this may be the most difficult item to cross off my list.
7.  Go white water rafting.
8.  Learn to ski properly and perhaps even give snowboarding a go.
9.  Take some fitness classes - hot yoga, martial arts, you name it, I wanna do it.
10.  Corral these lovely little posts into coherent essays and put 'em in a book.

And that's just a TASTE of my goals.  I sat down to write this list and thought, "What would I try if I knew I couldn't fail?"  Here's ten things.  And every one of 'em gets my blood pumpin' and my adrenal glands goin'.  Why?  Because they all involve some form of fitness - whether its mental or physical.  A year ago, I wouldn't have imagined I would be able to do the things I now do on a daily basis.  So I'm learning that there's no reason to limit myself.  What fun are limitations anyway?

The down-and-dirty of it is a simple daily to-do list.  Pick one of these, break it down into little itty bitty goals, and suddenly - the scary is not to be found.  The impossible has turned into I AM POSSIBLE.  (Would you like some cheese on your blog today? Why, yes, thank you!)  Sometimes, the focus is lacking.  I'm the first to admit day-to-day can muscle in on the lofty dreams of even this most dedicated FitGal.  I can blame the kids, the pets, the anemia, the house...but really, at the center of the blame game, it's just me.  I choose how to allot the majority of my time (some things can't be helped, like ER trips for splinters in a werewolf's butt - true and funny story, but for another time).  So if my dreams aren't getting closer, that's on me. 

I started this blog back in February, I believe.  That first post was frightening.  Putting it out there with the assumption that people would want to read anything I wrote seemed cocky, plus what if it wasn't good, wasn't entertaining?  I know.  I'm laughing at my February Self, too.  OF COURSE it was good.  OF COURSE it was entertaining.  That's why we're still here together, right?  Because I just get wittier and more motivating EVERY SINGLE DAY.  What's my point, you ask?  (As if I needed one.  It's my blog, after all.  Sheesh.)  My point is this: you forge past the intimidating and accomplish one goal, suddenly the others don't seem so far out of reach.  In fact, they downright look like nosy next-door neighbors peering in your front windows, they're so close. 

Invite 'em in, take the scary out.  They may be crazy, sure, but that's half the fun.  And I so don't want to be lying on my bed at age 99 wondering what else I could have done.  I want to be too busy pushing through to notice that my face was just plastered on the Morning Show for making it 100.

Tooting My Own Horn

Let me set the stage for you.

I was feeling ravenous from all those crazy Insanity workouts.  The kids were in bed, so I could eat whatever I chose without having to hide in a dark closet somewhere for fear of sharing.  (Don't act like you haven't learned to open candy wrappers with nary a crinkle.)  There were even full-sized Hershey bars sitting in the freezer (had to replenish the previously depleted supply). 

I chose salad.  And it was good.

Fer realz, yo.  Dead serious.  I couldn't get enough of those dark leafy greens, those crunchy organic carrots and red bell peppers, coated ever-so-lightly with Wegmans Traditional Italian dressing.  Just typing this, I swear to the gods of all that is fit, my mouth is watering.  For a freakin' salad.  And not a taco salad or a bowl of greens topped with ranch dressing and fried chicken strips.  Just a bowlful of that organic spring mix and various veggies chopped into bitesize pieces.  The cool crispness of it, the simple flavors!  How did this become more appealing than (dare I say it?!?) chocolate cake????

I have not a freakin' clue.  I just don't know.  The switch flipped AGAIN.  How many switches can one FitGal possibly have?  First the workout switch.  Then the Shakeology switch and the vegetarian switch and the nonalcoholic switch.  Now a salad-over-junk-food switch???  Sometimes, I just have to shake my head in wonderment at how far I've come and how much my awesomeness increases every day.

I was just describing this very scenario in a message with a friend who is on her own fitness journey.  She was, in her own words, "tooting her own horn" but then almost apologizing for doing so, perhaps, I believe, worried I may find her boastful.  Um...hello?  I reminded her that she was indeed speaking the Master Tooter, the Queen of Tooting, the Tooter of all Tooters...and so no need to backtrack on her own toots.

And yes, I found the irony and the humor in the language used, which is why you're reading about it now.  I get it.  Toot = fart.  And because I possess the humor level of a six-year-old, that is freakin' hysterical.  Especially because I have cleared rooms lately with all the veggie intake.  My apologies are extended if I don't get a handle on all these new gastrointestinal shenanigans before I see you out in public...but hey, it's just the result of some good ol' fashioned healthy eatin'!  Join me!  The old song is true: the more ya toot, the better ya feel.  It's my mantra for the time being anyway.

And it's bound to get worse, because I gotta add in some more beans to make up for the protein I'm not getting from meat.  I'm back on dairy for now, until I sit down and research that part too.  Mainly because I just feel better when I don't eat dairy, but right now, it's a convenient source of protein for me.  But the beans are still necessary, and I really do love 'em.  They fill me up, give me energy, and - most importantly - they're quite delicious...and good for your heart...*snort*chuckle*snort*

So I ain't ashamed to toot my horn.  Which is good, because sometimes, I just can't help myself, no matter how hard I may try.  Consider this fair warning: meet me outdoors and stand downwind until my body adapts to the new diet.  It'll adapt, just like my tastebuds adapted.  Till then, I'll consider it a trumpet of triumph over my previous malnourished ways.

Eyes Forward

An object in motion tends to stay in motion, right?  I got to keep on movin'...Eyes forward...And lots of other stuff that means "don't stop where you are."  I focused pretty deeply on that marathon, but that finish line has been crossed.  It's time to shift priorities from running to grappling, crawling, and climbing.  Time to shop for grip gloves and underarmour tank tops.  Time to train dirty.  I'm goin' Spartan.  Less than two months till my first mud race and I'm already feelin' antsy.  My legs are twitchin' and my arms are ready to climb.  I've taken a relatively easy time since Run for the Red.  Now I need to get back in the trenches...so I'm thinking Insanity is the only way to go.

Don't get me wrong...I still have lots of affection for Tony, and Chalene will always be my first love.  But I need to start combining some serious cardio with intense strength training...plus, I wanna try something new and shiny.  You probably haven't noticed, but I tend to enjoy mixing up the workouts a bit.  It doesn't help that every time I am roused from my beauty sleep in the middle of the night, Shaun T is the second person I see and hear (the first, of course, being snoring hubby/scared Bear/sick Werewolf/cranky Rooster - and yes, everyone has an animal nickname.  Because we are all BEASTS).  It was informercials that got me where I am today; specifically Beachbody informercials...so I think we can all agree that this middle-of-the-night-workout-ad-extravaganza is a sign from the exercise gods.  I am supposed to start Insanity, and apparently, they want me to start it pretty soon.

In the meantime, I am stealing motivation from my very first Challenge group, an excited and ornery group I pulled together to encourage and cheer each other on while they also fight to their last breath to win a very serious points contest involving grueling daily fitness challenges and snack recipes.  Their excitement bolsters my excitement...which also makes me want to buy Insanity, and in a strange chain of enthusiasm, more bathing suits and lululemon shorts.  Hmmm...

I don't think there is any way around this.  I try to find another route, but I just keep coming back to WWSTD?  Indeed...what would Shaun T do?  Well, I mean aside from ripping off his shirt to the screams of delighted women everywhere...

Well, until I can officially plead Insanity, I suppose running and a climbing rope in the backyard will have to suffice.  Because I really do need to stay in motion...these feet are not happy unless they stink with sweat.  (Hey, fair warning just in case we should meet in public...)

Legend...Hold the Dairy...

I talk a LOT about the exercise side of fitness.  It's my love, my passion, my addiction.  And yes, it gets me results.  It makes me stronger, faster, leaner...more irresistible.  Plus, it's fun.  I get to kick, punch, run, dance...and I typically only have to do so for one to two hours a day.  Which, I feel, is pretty easy.  The nutrition side of fitness...that side which glowers upon regular chocolate cake consumption and does not condone a daily intake of Funyuns...that is not so fun.  And, until recently, it was not even remotely easy for me.  Good thing I like challenges and being told it can't be done.

I was never what anyone would label "a healthy eater."  I was more likely to fall under the category of "eternal grazer" or "garbage disposal."  I ate massive amounts of food in single sittings with constant snacking energizing me between meals.  And I ate things like Weis dessert bowls (frequently enough that my coworkers began calling them "Jen Bowls"); king size Snickers bars; 20-piece McNuggets with three different sauces so my delicate pallette would not get bored.  We frequented the diner down the street so often that we had our own booth and the waitresses knew our "usuals." 

Then I started TurboFire and started dropping pounds and inches.  I was, to put it mildly, quite pleased.  I continued to drop when I picked up running, and I started gaining muscle when I began using ChaLEAN Extreme.  But that mid-section still looked suspiciously poochy, as though it might be carrying something.  And it was.  It was carrying Big Macs, taco pizza, everything fries, and too many desserts to name (but all containing chocolate).  I took a moment to be frustrated, to feel depressed, to pout and whine and stomp my feet regarding the unfairness of it all.  Then I turned to my favorite place for change: Beachbody. 

I wanted more results and I wanted them faster.  I ordered HipHop Abs, E&E Formula, and my first round of Shakeology.  I signed up for my personalized meal plan and started using myfitnesspal again.  I returned to Body Confidence by Mark McDonald. Things began happening. 

First, I fell in lust with Shaun T and in love with E&E.  Then I made a lifelong commitment to Shakeology, which led to a lifelong commitment to (mostly) clean eating.  Because here's the thing: I have that shake in the morning, and I find it ridiculously easy to maintain healthy eating for the remainder of the day.  My body gets what it needs, so minimal (if any) cravings follow.  For a girl that used to hide candy bars in the freezer so my kids wouldn't get them, who used to stock an entire file drawer at my desk with snacks ranging from funsize chocolate bars to entire boxes of cereal...that's kind of a big deal. 

Now here came the most kickass part of all the kickass-edness (yes, it's a word!): I had ab muscles under that pooch! And a waistline!  For the first time since junior high, I saw flat abs in my future.  I don't even have to flex.  They just pop out.  It's like every day, I'm more awesome.  It's hard to believe, right?  How does one so awesome continually find more room for awesome?  Barney Stinson ain't got nothin' on this girl.  Legend...

Speaking of dairy...Yeah.  I don't do that anymore, either.  At least, the occasions are few and far between.  I originally cut it out as part of the Body Confidence jump start plan, but found that not only did I not miss it, I felt better overall.  And after being dairy free for a few weeks, when I had a small glass of milk...Let's just say, things weren't the same between me and the white stuff anymore.  Which just makes decisions that much easier still.  Again with the awesome.

And again, my point behind all this rambling is THIS: if I, the bacon-loving, chocolate-cake-shoveling, fried-cheese-inhaling garbage disposal and former champion of all encased meats, can not only change my diet and garner control over my eating but am actually SATISFIED with my current intake...then so can you.  I don't wanna hear crap about healthy foods being too expensive.  I don't wanna hear "but my kids won't eat that."  I especially don't wanna hear "but that's too difficult."  I will slap that french fry right outta your mouth. 

Fact: eating right will extend your life.  It will extend your children's lives.  Less sickness equals less prescriptions and less trips to the doctor.  Fact: your kids will eat what you provide.  You're the parent and you make the rules.  When my children complain, I make them this deal: get a job, do the shopping, prepare the meals.  Then we can have cheeseburgers and potato chips every night.  Guess what?  We're still eating organic veggies and grilled fish or chicken.  Fact: the more you do it, the easier it gets.  The only difficult part is the first two or three weeks.  Once those devil toxins are cast from your body, you will crave things like cantaloupe and mixed greens and water.  And then I won't have to keep slapping you.  Which is nice for both of us.

And now that I have finished my Dwight Shrute-like diatribe, I'm going to go sip my green tea, read a little Mama Llama with the babe before he naps...and then I'm gonna rip into HIIT 15 and some ab work.  Because Shakeology gave me the energy to do so.

I Ran for the Red

Hey, did you know I've been training for a marathon? I know I haven't talked about it much, but I've done some training here and there over the past few months...

Yay!

So, Saturday was the much anticipated expo and packet pickup day.  After browsing the expos at the Rock N Roll Half and VIA, I was all set to stock up on Gu and possibly a new headband or tshirt with a catchy slogan (previous purchases include "will run for margaritas" and "will run for beer." I have a theme.).  Alas, twas not to be.  Apparently, Run for the Red is but a teeny blip on the expo radar and not a drop of Gu could be found.  I did leave, however, with a brand spanking new tech shirt (free) and a bag full of tourism brochures for Stroudsburg.  Oh - and two (count 'em!) notepads from the state representative.  On to my runner's haven, Aardvark!

Aardvark Sports Shop is my absolute fave place to shop for running gear.  Runners work there and actually know what they're talking about as they fit you for shoes and answer your questions.  (Unlike walking into Lady Foot Locker and explaining I was in need of new running shoes, whereupon I was led to the "prettiest pair.")  I grabbed my Gu, some Chomps, and chatted with the cashier who had already run Run for the Red and was running it again the next day.  She warned me not to go all out in the beginning on the downhill because there'd be plenty of uphill at the end.  I soaked it all in (and promptly forgot it once the race started, but we'll get to that in a bit), grabbed my stash, and headed home to ready the house for the post-race celebration.

Race day! It was actually race day!  Up at 5 am (actually before, because I was excited/nervous/in need of bladder emptying) to get myself and the M&M Clan out the door by 6:30 am.  Being the organized gal that I am, everything had been laid out the night before, so we nearly got out the door on time.  (I never fully expect us to leave when we plan to; this is why we usually give ourselves a 30-minute "oh my God we have four kids" window.)  I forced down some oatmeal and green tea and packed a cooler of snacks for the rest of the Clan and a bag of gear for myself.  Off we went, some of us jittery and others sleepy.

Our course of action was a drop off and immediate departure for the fam, with nary a monkey foot leaving the van.  I geared up, posed for pictures, stole last-minute hugs and kisses and waved good-bye as they chugged on to the first spectator spot.  Suddenly, I was alone with 30 minutes to spare...I had to pee.

Luckily, the crowd at the starting line was minimal.  This was not the chaos I was used to from previous races, but that suited me just fine.  I was able to use the portapotties TWICE before I meandered over to the starting line just behind the 4:40 pace group.  I was feeling spry and thought I would at least start out with a faster group.  To help me chillax, I listened to the Fab Four until start time and marvelled at the wide range of runners.

Two things that continuously amaze me are the diversity and the community of runners.  You may picture marathon runners as incredibly sinewy and lean, and some of them are.  But they (WE!) are a much more diverse group than most would imagine.  There was not a "type" anywhere yesterday...Cultures, races, shapes, sizes, levels of fitness - everyone was represented.  And everyone was accepted with enthusiasm.  Runners are one of the most welcoming and enthusiastic groups I have ever seen.  When we find each other, we are like dogs spotting other dogs.  I swear, I may have even waggled my rear at times.  Because no one other than a fellow runner will truly understand what it means and why we're NOT crazy to do what we do.  Also, we want to convert everyone we meet.  If we could only pause long enough in our weekend runs to knock on a few doors, we'd be eerily similar to certain religious sects.

So it was a good feeling there at the starting line.  There is always the jumbled mess at the beginning when everyone is fresh, but by mile two we began to separate.  I kept in pace with the 4:40 crowd and began taking my intervals somewhere between miles 2 and 3.  The first hour went by as it always does, in a haze of settling in to my stride and my breathing and gaining control of my thoughts (today they went something along the lines of "Holy FUCK! What did I sign up for?!?).  I always find my strength and my zen around the second hour and this day was no different.  I turned up my volume (one luxury of racing: you don't have to listen for vehicles) and zoned out, forgetting the other runners and focusing instead on me. 

That's a lie.  I didn't eliminate them from my thoughts.  That 4:40 pace sign was taunting me endlessly, bobbing up and down in its irritating, singsongy way.  I pushed harder.  I totally forgot the advice of Wise Aardvark Lady and took full advantage of the downhill and the shade and the slight coolness of the morning.  That's a partial lie, too.  I didn't forget; I ignored.  This led to a sweaty stripping down while I made use of PortaPotty stop 2.  Which in turn led to me falling far behind the pace group and pushing even harder to catch up and PASS them.  I felt fantastic.

By the time I saw the Clan at the first spectator spot, right around mile 9, I was fully in my stride.  I untied my excess clothing from my fuel belt and threw it at them as they cheered me on.  I was on pace to not only make my goal of five hours, but to come in significantly sooner.  I had no time to stop (though I did end up pausing for a kiss).  Once again, I fell into zen mode, rousing out every 30 to 45 minutes to fuel up with Gu and water.  I passed the halfway point fourteen minutes under my previous half marathon time and ran faster.  Another reunion with fam at mile 16 perked me up again...and then came the heat.

Runners began dropping like flies.  People I hadn't seen since the starting line were suddenly on the side of the road clutching bellies, removing shoes, and opting for the ambulance ride.  I saw runners falling and admitting defeat at every mile.  This was not something I had expected.  And it made the mental portion of the race that much more difficult.  Because when everyone around you is quitting, it makes quitting seem like an okay thing to do.  Even if your body is willing to keep going. 

My legs felt strong.  My cardio was on target.  But that heat...that heat.  I had not trained in heat.  I trained all winter long in layers, and in the spring when the mornings stayed cool.  Technically, it's still spring.  But yesterday felt like the dog days of summer, especially with 18 miles logged.  At points I felt viciously jealous of those caving to the sun and the road; they were done.  I was barely trudging along, focusing entirely on my "one more minute" strategy to get me through each interval.  I shifted from counting singular miles to grouping them by fives, when I knew they would be posting on Facebook for all to see.  People would know if I stopped; people would know if I failed.  I would know.  My new mantras included "failure is NOT an option" and "failure is not in my vocabulary."  Not original or thought provoking, but they worked.  I plugged on, letting my arms drop.

But that HEAT.  It was unbearable.  I pictured blue waters, cool swimming pools, even my ice bath.  I longed for my ice bath.  I grew irritable that the water stations had no cold offerings.  I didn't want  warm Gatorade!  I wanted ICE COLD WATER.  It was my only clear thought.  And then...

The heavens parted.  A choir of angels began to sing.  And if I'd had a tear to shed, I would have cried.  I saw the most beautiful handwritten sign on the side of a cooler I had ever seen: "ICE."  I dove in with two hands, splashing one clump into an outstretched cup of water and sending the rest into the front of my sports bra.  Relief.  From that point on, we were strictly in residential areas and apparently, the most wonderful people on the face of the planet live right on the Run for the Red route.  They sprayed us down with icy garden hoses, offered us plastic cups full of ice and cool water, all the while cheering us on.  I opened my arms wide and blessed their dear, sweet little souls.  Children squirted us with water guns and supersoakers - all of it FREEZING.  Bliss.  Pure bliss.  I gathered my remaining energy and realized I was in the home stretch now - only three more miles to go.

The closer I got to the finish line, the more finishers I saw walking back to their cars and to restaurants along Main Street.  Once again, I was jealous: not only were they done, they were done faster.  I pushed harder.  Upon entering the school grounds, I heard my big sister yelling "Go, BEAR!"  I looked up to see her and my daughter waving from the top of the bleachers.  I could not walk now...I had to finish running.  No more intervals.

I hit the track and knew it was less than a full lap.  I have never wanted to stop moving so badly in my life.  I desperately needed to walk, to just stand still...and then Crazy Train started playing.  It was my son's theme song all wrestling season, and I was reminded of his tenacity even when we all knew he wanted to give up.  I was reminded of our many talks about following through to reach goals, about not giving in or giving up...and all the moments I watched his jaw set and his eyes narrow...and I started sprinting for the finish line.  I knew I was already over five hours, but not by much.  I could still make this a goal reached.

I crossed the finish line at 5:02:44.  (Upon checking my results, my official chip time was 5:01:04.  I'll take it.)  I grabbed up my precious medal and stumbled into the open arms of Hubby, who literally swept me off my feet in the best hug EVER. 

I did it.  "Decide.  Commit.  Succeed."  That is the Beachbody slogan I see at the end of every TurboFire, ChaLEAN Extreme, and P90X workout I have ever done.  And though a simple formula, it works.  I am proof.  And now I have a marathon PR...which I will beat in the VIA this September.  I just need to start training.

I've Come A Long Way, Baby...

As I sit here and pretend not to be thinking over the looming miles, I can't help but think back over my sporadic running career.  I believe the first time I ran for fitness' sake was in college with my roommate Nes, when I would "reward" myself for a job well done and two miles run with a P-Funk and a handful of Oreos.  I've come a long way, baby...

At the end of my first race

My first actual race experience was the VIA Relay when I logged 5.5 miles in 55 minutes as the first leg for our team.  I walked A LOT of that race, but at no particular interval pace.  I recall an obvious marathoner slowing beside me, his fuel belt seeming, to me at that time, to be a tad excessive (I knew little!).  He asked if I was doing 1:1 intervals, as he was.  My reply?  "Nope.  I'm on the uphill/downhill system.  Walk uphill, run downhill."  I eked my way to Hubby, tapped out to the next runner, and slowly recovered from what I thought was a grueling and terribly long run.  I've come a long way, baby...

After my first Komen

From the VIA, I progressed to my very first Komen 5k.  It took us about 35 minutes to finish and I remember thinking that running made me fill really ill and excessively tired.  Regardless of how many times and ways I attempted to explain my nausea and exhaustion to Hubby, he claimed he, too, was tired from the race.  Little did we know that the babe was blossoming in my belly and I really was far more tired than Hubby.  Well, I knew how much worse I felt, he just didn't want to let me win.  We've come a long way, baby...

Seeing as how my belly was growing and I was slowing, I left running behind for prenatal workouts.  Post-babe, I discovered TurboFire (HOOORAAAAYYY!) and felt that was my soul mate workout.  What could be better?  I loved the intensity, the music, the quickness.  Nothing could be better!  I was about to come a long way, baby...

Crossing the finish line

My darling niece challenged me to a half marathon.  So what if it was a mere five weeks away?  If TurboFire was really that faboo, I ought to be in optimal condition.  Challenge accepted!  And guess what?  This time, I fell in love!  I loved waking up at the asscrack of dawn and running longer and longer routes before anyone else woke up.  I loved my race, the Rock N Roll Half Marathon in Providence, RI.  Live bands every mile?  Free Gu?  A gentle cooling rain?  Yes, please, and THANK YA!  I really had come a long way, baby.

And now...on the eve of the eve of my very first and very anticipated first marathon...I look back at my peppered race record and chuckle.  At what I thought was too difficult, too long, too steep...knowing now that the more difficult it is, the more fun it is to accomplish...the longer it takes, the more zen time I get...the steeper the climb, the more satisfication I get from climbing it.  (Somehow, the last part of the sentence suddenly seems perverted...oh well...)  So I am very much looking forward to Sunday morning, though I know pre-race will see a flustered Queen who must empty her bladder at least fifteen times before stepping across the starting line.  I just need to hold on to the knowledge that once running, all will be good.  These legs know what to do.  We're gonna go a long way, baby...

It's The Climb

 This is where I am at the end of the first interval of 99% of my training runs.  Within five minutes, I am far enough away from the main road to not hear traffic and far enough into my session to begin realizing how blessed I am to live where I do.  We may not have Starbucks or malls and we may have to drive more than 20 minutes to get anywhere...but look what we do have.  It's not a fair trade; we certainly claimed the long end of the stick.  At this point, I am more likely to run past fishermen than cars and am more likely to be alone than in the presence of fishermen.  It's a quiet beginning to a quiet run, just the way I prefer it.  If anything is going to throw me off on Sunday, it will be the chaos that accompanies every starting line.  Because from here, I move on to this:

More tranquility, more beauty, and even less signs of progress.  My usual company here consists of geese (although, those geese aren't always tranquil...) and the occasional farmer on his tractor.  If the stream is high enough and rapid enough, I like to lower the volume on my iPod so I can listen to the water rush by.  By the time I get here...

I am already feeling the zen of sneakers hitting asphalt, the evenness of my breathing, the energy pushing my legs faster.  To the right is the lake, where I'm likely to see more fishing enthusiasts and runners like myself.  This is when the rest of my world begins to fall away, when I forget about the laundry, any temper tantrums or bills to pay, and my mind shifts instead to what lies ahead.  Because from here, it's only a few miles to get to my favorite spot...

This is my treat, one I only get when I do distance training.  It's about ten miles out and if I want to go through here, I have to plan on at least two to three hours of run time.  I've previously described the "veggie portion" of my runs.  This is my double chocolate fudge cake, fresh out of the oven.  It's worth busting through any tiredness that tries to creep in to hear the gravel crunch under my feet and know that I have a good two miles to be snug in this trail before I re-enter the real world of painted lines and fast cars.  I swear, the best songs always play here and I do some of my clearest thinking along this path.  Many a blog entry has been formulated between these trees and many a problem solved.  If my race has any spots like this, I'll be golden come Sunday.

No matter how far I run or which route I take, I always start and finish on the same road, with the same hill.  Setting out, the downhill is a great warm up and spur to get my feet movin'.  Coming home...it is the bane of my existence.  There was a time, seven or so months ago, that I was barely able to walk back up.  It required everything I had to breathlessly climb this hill.  Now...I run it.  Slowly.  Awkwardly.  But I'm running.  This hill may not be the steepest I've encountered during my months of training, but it is the most symbolic.  I can't get around it.  This is the way home and the last few minutes of my run.  I can either make it count or I can decide my run is over at the base.  I decided long ago to make it count.  So while this picture may not seem impressive or beautiful to you...to me, it is a turning point not only in my physical strength, but my mental determination as well.  If I can conquer this hill after a 21+ mile run, I can certainly finish that marathon.