Easy Street

After my first QiDANCE master class

Rest week, shmest week.  My QiDANCE DVD came in the mail today and I had to get my groove on.  I just about have the first song down, hip swivels and all.  This is probably where not having a full length mirror comes in a little handy; I can imagine I look just as sexy as I feel.  And after more than a week of jammin' out to the CD, the moves are coming pretty naturally with the music.  I have about a month left before the first class and I plan on bein' readier than ready. 

Strolling

Hey there, sheep.

Aside from my new dancing obsession, I'm taking it slow and easy (aside from a Tabat Boot Camp class on Monday, but I kept it within range).  I actually took an entire day off yesterday, leaving me feeling at loose ends and as though I was forgetting something all day.  Today, the babe and I strolled leisurely along part of my regular running route, stopping for some photos and to say hello to the sheep.  And then, of course, my QiDANCE extravaganza. 

And all the while, several times a day and sometimes several times an hour, that marathon is racing around the back of my mind.  I have created and recreated a mental checklist for the day prior and the morning of.  Both involve the camera, of course.  And the afternoon after involves Skinny Girl cocktails (after I replenish a few calories) and friends and family to celebrate.  I keep contemplating a tiara but try to convince myself that my new medal will suffice.  What I haven't been concentrating on is the actual running of the race.

Along my route

I've been training for approximately seven months with this marathon in mind.  I don't skip training and I don't quit when I feel tired.  I eeked out some runs and blasted through others.  Most importantly, I have finished each and every one.  (Well, except for the one that was interrupted by some nasty shin pain...but I made that up the next week.)  I have put my time in.  This body is ready.  The race is not the hard part; the hard part is over.  I finished seven months of the hard part.  I know I can do five hours (or less!) of the easy part. 

A view on each run

A friend and fellow runner just reminded me that I will only get one first marathon, and I don't intend to waste it worrying.  I want to relish every moment (and I will relay many, so consider yourself warned) and keep the day as special as it ought to be.  This is just the public culmination of the days, weeks, and months I've spent preparing.  But, hey...we all know I love a good public spectacle involving myself.  And the fact that I get a medal at the end of it just makes it that much better.

I Got To Keep On Movin'

Okay.  Run for the Red is ten days away.  I am still injury free, despite my cats' attempts to do me in via a stairway fall and the babe's fascination with rolling Matchbox cars my way during TurboFire.  But then, two days ago, my iPhone fell in the toilet.  (Clean bowl, thank the heavens.)  All was good - except the volume.  No sound.  A minor wrinkle, to be sure, but enough of a wrinkle to start those sneakered butterflies running laps around my belly.  For no volume = no music for 26.2 miles.  No volume = no voice reminders for my intervals.  (Hey, we're all spoiled by technology, and the lady who gently reminds me of my time has become a close friend of mine.)  A wrinkle to be sure, but I could iron this one out (and iron it far better than any shirt unlucky enough to meet my ironing board).  As of today, I am the proud and excited owner of the iPhone 4s and I have a new lady in my life.  So, see?  Crisis averted.

Oh, but wait!  Those ten miles I was scheduled to run this afternoon?  The ones Hubby and I planned our schedules around to be sure they weren't missed?  They're gonna be missed.  Apparently the engineers in Jersey did not get my training memo and Hubby has received extra work at the office.  Seriously?  Don't these people know my race is but ten days away?  I briefly toyed with the idea of pawning the older children off via playdates at someone else's home, but that still leaves me with a teething babe.  It is doubtful he (or I) would make it through ten miles with a jogging stroller.  And Mother Nature is just rubbing salt in my wounds.  The first gorgeous day in a week and my running feet are trapped in crosstrainers.

That's right.  I laced up the Asics and popped in a DVD.  I may not be assured of the time I need to meet my planned mileage, but that doesn't mean I'm sprawled out in bed trying to figure out why every female my age or older is raving about Fifty Shades of Grey (I tried, ladies...but melodramatic softcore porn will never beat out Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter).  No.  I just finished forty-five minutes of Zumba (all that listening to QiDANCE lately had me in the mood to dance) and if need be, I'll log some extra TurboFire time today.  I'm still dreaming of a quick run, but Chalene always has my back if I can't get there. 

My point is this: Murphy's Law is real.  It does exist.  Life exists.  Every day problems creep out and worm their way into your plans.  This is the point when many say they don't have the time to work out.  Well, I haven't been training for six freakin' months to let life get in the way of my goals.  I can't run?  So what?  I can still train and get my heart racin' for the two hours I planned on those ten miles taking me.  Screw you, Murphy.  I got bigger fish to fry. 

I have been called stubborn, bullheaded, and other descriptive words I choose not to share.  I'll take that.  If I wasn't, I wouldn't be meeting goals left, right, and straight on.  I'd still be in the same old rut, dreaming of being fit and wishing I had race medals hanging on my walls.  I wouldn't be sharing my love of fitness with everyone I meet (and some I haven't) or helping others get started meeting their own goals.  So, yes...I am stubborn.  I refuse to let life's annoyances interfere with my to-do list.  It's like the Bear Hunt song my kids used to sing in preschool...Can't go over it, can't go under it...You gotta go through it.  It's really the only way (plus, it's the most fun way too).

(And PS...it's this bitch got it done for six months...and now this bitch has that leopard bikini...:)  BOO. YAH.)



The Accountability Department

I like fun workout words - sweat! jump! dance! run! push!  Action words, verbs, movers and shakers are what get me going.  Words like accountability don't typically enter my vocabulary unless I'm discussing household chores with my children (for the thousandth time today).  Accountability is a word dressed in an ill-fitting brown suit and mustard-colored necktie, maybe listening to Muzak or proofreading last year's reports on the price of generic toilet paper while lecturing me about buckling down and straightening up and flying right.  *YAWN*

But, accountability does make some good points.  Not much would get done without it.  Every organization needs a stickler to make things work, so make room in your otherwise good timin' brain for an accountability department.  You need that little voice to remind you why you're waking up at a time that is perfectly good for sleeping; why you, when everyone else is snuggling deeper into pillows and blankets, are lacing up your shoes to do those action words mentioned above.

As for myself, I have found I am getting pretty good at holding myself accountable.  I know when I'm making lame excuses ("the laundry needs folding," "I'd better check Facebook one more time," or "this needs eaten before it goes bad") and when I need to kick my own ass into gear.  I have also learned that the more I broadcast my intent, the more accountable I feel.  Failure only I know about is one thing; failure everyone can witness is quite another.  Now, I am sure not everyone in my social media world is keeping track of my workouts and nutrition, but I know for certain that a few people notice a few things.  That's enough for me.  I said I was going to do P90X and HipHop Abs and train for a marathon.  So that's what I'm doing.  I log onto my networks when I press play (and it's not just for bragging rights - that's what events are for).  It is my proof.  I said I was gonna, and I am. 

Even this blog holds me accountable.  One of my Push goals (side note: get yourself a copy of Chalene Johnson's Push and do what she says) was to write every day in order to keep track of my progress and just to get back to writing.  Now that people are actually beginning to read it, I know I need to keep putting it out there.  It is part of my routine now, just as exercising is.  See, the great thing about accountability is that it takes the decision out of the equation.  You set a goal and you accomplish it.  The Dwight Schrute of your brain will tell you what to do if you just follow along.  Before you know it, you don't even need accountability.  Working out and training become as much a part of your day as brushing your teeth, getting the kids off the bus, or taking the dogs outside.  It's no longer a struggle; it just is.

So who/what is your accountability?  Why haven't you broadcasted your goals to everyone you know?  I share each one with hundreds of people on a daily basis, even though I'm pretty sure the guy I used to go to kindergarten with doesn't really care that my pushups are coming along so nicely.  But - I can certainly pretend that each and every one of my online friends - from old classmates to friends of friends I've met only virtually - are anxiously awaiting my next account of fitness miraculousness.  And I can promise you this: if you let me in on your goals, I will be watching your every workout move and counting each bead of sweat.  In a totally noncreepy, nonstalkerish way...