The Big 2-0

The Gear

So today was an actual scheduled rest day.  Lettin' those leg muscles relax and repair for tomorrow's big 20-miler.  I spent the morning hunting and gathering supplies (a girl must have her Gu and recovery drinks) and even snuck a new running shirt into the purchases (feeling pretty makes me faster).  I spent the afternoon calmly cleaning, folding laundry, snuggling with a sleepy babe, and helping the older monkeys primp and dress for their Grandparents Dance this evening.  The route is mapped; the fueling is planned and procured; the proper steps have been taken.  And, after all, it's just a training run.

But...twenty miles.  TWENTY.  MILES.  That's kind of a lot.  Since I started running longer distances, one of my new OCD quirks is to reset the trip odometer and find pride in knowing I've run longer distances than I typically drive.  I know the back roads around here now, because I have run them over and over again, slowly learning their intersections and loops.  I have run past the kids' old daycare, past our church, past the lake I long to fish in, up the mountain and back down, across the Delaware River and back...but TWENTY MILES suddenly seems a ginormous number. 

Before

So let's break it down.  Anything less than ten miles feels silly anymore.  So the first half of this run is a warm up, right?  Right.  I ran my Rock N Roll Half Marathon last year in 2:37.  Now I am typically at 14.5 miles in that time, still feeling quite strong and closing in on home.  At that point tomorrow, I will be on the verge of a fuel break, replenishing my water supply and eating an energy bar left on the front porch by Cheerleader Hubby.  Once the fuel belts have been swapped out, I am off for one last loop around the daycare and back - what I have come to view as a quick and easy run that averages anywhere from 1:15 to 1:30.  Assuming I keep my past pace, I ought to be done in just over four hours, with my usual pauses for stretching and Gu-ing.  Four hours, though a freakish time to some, doesn't sound bad at all.  I can do four hours.

During

Now that we have made everything sound so reasonable, let us not speak of that other number.  At least, not until it is under my belt and I am once again Fully Awesome and Ready To Brag.  If I set off at 6:00 am as planned, I ought to be Bragging by 10:30.  Log on, little Readers, and I will regale you with each step, song, stretch, and moment of doubt (to always be quickly followed by Moments of Greatness, naturally).  I know you'll be thinking of me tomorrow as I chug through the Water Gap, and perhaps you will be motivated to lace up your own running shoes.  Which would be FABULOUS, because then we can start signing up for races together.  I need more running partners.  Currently, I have only myself and my Ego (and that chick just keeps getting bigger all the time).

After

Claiming Space

I used to exercise as a means of disappearing. That is, I wanted to shrink my body and by proxy, the space I took up in the world. Looking back, I believe it was more than living up to those gorgeous glossy photos in magazines or the slick images on television and in the movies. It was less about being noticed and more about folding into myself. I am not the only female to be cut by comments tossed my way as if the edges weren't sharp. It begins in elementary school when suddenly simply being a girl becomes a detriment both on playing fields and in social circles. In high school I was told that my cheerleading uniform made my thighs look too thick. In college I was informed that I was almost pretty enough to model...but not quite. A significant other felt I cut my long hair out of spite and stated that pregnant women should never dance, successfully halting my second trimester groove along with ABBA. It was not until I became the mother of a daughter that I started seeing these comments for what they truly were: panicked attempts to regain control. I was simply starting to shine a little too brightly and those small men were frightened by a strong woman. I wasn't looking for their approval and thus earned their disapproval. What do I want for my daughter? Certainly not for her confident stride to falter beneath such pitiful assaults. And as the mother of sons, I strive to make certain they will never use launguage so callous and lastingly hurtful. Because though the years distance me from it and perspective has altered my view, I still feel that initial sting. I yearn to transport myself back to those moments, with my thirty six years of experience and strength, and reply that actually, my thighs are muscular and strong so I can support my teammates; I am beautiful no matter my hair length, color, or style; and there is no better time in a woman's life to dance than when she is dancing with her unborn child. So now, I exercise as a means of expanding myself and my life. I take part in events and races, charity walks and classes. My presence grows every day. I look nothing like the magazine covers. I look like a busy mom of four who is often unable to find the time or inclination to apply makeup but always manages to carve out at least thirty minutes to exercise. My hair is short again, with a dash of pink. Sometimes I 'hawk it out and feel a little like a Warrior Queen with my newly ripped bi's and tri's. And the man beside me reminds me everyday that I am amazing and that as I age, I am only becoming more beautiful to him. So, ladies...train like girls. Sweat. Pant. Grunt when those last three reps or that last mile are pushing you towards (good) failure. Be proud of how far you have come. If your goal is to lean out, do it. But never ever disappear. I've been saving space for you right here.

The Photographic Evidence

It's a quick one tonight, folks.  I had a day full of fevers, vomit, and gymnastics (although the last one was blissful, as I finally got to sit and watch my Bear flip and tumble whilst perusing the latest from Runner's World) and it is off to Skinny Girl Margarita-ville I go.

Anyway - I pledged to at the very least share my meals/snacks/etc from here on out, and so I felt obligated to stop by and do just that.  I have already been a sometimes faithful user of myfitnesspal (and I highly recommend it to anyone trying to lose or gain weight - it's free and it works.  What more can you ask for?).  This week, I was particularly faithful and have eased myself back into a normal eating plan vs. the good-all-day-gorge-at-night plan I had been following in recent weeks.  I alternated that with the it's-a-special-occasion-because-it's-Bear's-birthday/we're-out-to-eat/I-just-freakin'-feel-like-it-OK?!? diet...but that one, believe it or not, did not get me the results I was after either.  So it's back to basics, as it should always be, and I have given myself the added accountability of taking photos of each morsel consumed (pre-consumption, of course) and sharing the resulting photographs with all of you.  On the edge of your seat yet? Drumming fingers anxiously on your computer desk?  Well, stop it.  That's annoying.  (I won't care in a few moments, as I mentioned previously that my good girl liquor awaits).



Is it everything you dreamed it would be?

So there it is.  Ta-DAAA!  That's my daily breakfast, although the yogurt is typically substituted with a form of fruit.  I am weaning myself off of Nutella, but that shit is made out of crack.  The peanut butter crackers - from a vending machine after gymnastics.  I was starving and about to be Sponge Mom Angry Pants if I didn't get something in my belly.  Hubby outdid himself once again, mixing leftovers with cupboard leavin's (you know those packages of stuff that you never recall buying and never seem to get used?), so we had pasta with chicken and sauce for dinner.  Perfect on a chilly and rainy day.  Lunch - I did that myself!  I used fridge leavin's (leftovers and previously cut veggies and/or fruits so I only have to put forth minimal effort) and concocted a pretty bangin' salad for myself.  And...at long last...thank you, Bethenny Frankel, for the gift of Skinny Girl.  Tastey and low-cal enough that I feel no guilt over two servings (certainly not after two servings, as I have become a total lightweight in this arena). 

There you have it.  Not every day will be this detailed (I will be back to my random rants/ravings/blatherings as of tomorrow), but if you're truly curious about what I'm ingesting, friend me on myfitnesspal.  My username is Miller343 and my diary is public.  And hey, I can use all the eyeballin' I can get to keep me on track and eating like the athlete I picture myself to be.

Let's Call It Re-Decision

So, yeah.  I've started a few workout programs in the past and not finished them.  And perhaps (in the past) this was due to laziness or boredom.  Maybe.  Now, however, I find I must change up because the program is not meeting my expectations.  As in, the sucka's too damn easy.

I figured P90X Doubles would work fabulously for me, as it is currently the only program I own that Hubby agrees to do with me (and we all want him to work out, right?).  Turns out, Cardio X ain't got nothin' on my girl Chalene and TurboFire.  So, I am creating my very own little hybrid of P90X Doubles and TurboFire and marathon training, tweaking the schedules from day to day to fit my needs.  At first, I felt like I was quitting, yet again.  But I caught myself.  I can't help that I have become this awesome and need more of achallenge than Tony offers with Cardio X.  Nor is it Mr. Horton's fault that I am such an insatiable cardio machine.  We can all get along, as I am not abandoning P90X completely - keeping the lifting sessions, Plyo, and (every now and again) Kenpo X.  But on those days when I'm not running and the schedule calls for some cardio - I am turning to Chalene and her booty-shakin' bad assedness.  (It's a word because I said so.)

I love returning to TF after time away.  Fire 55 EZ is my benchmark workout, allowing me to truly recognize how far I have come since I first started my Beachbody journey a little over a year ago.  The first time I attempted this particular workout, I thought I might die.  I struggled through, modifying any step I could modify and thanking the gods of modification for their offerings.  Now...ha.  Now, I wear weighted gloves (which are so worn out that the velcro keeps coming undone) and am contemplating moving up from 1 lb to 2 lbs.  Because now, those extra pounds don't feel so extra.  Yes, readers...I have guns.  And they are begging for more ammunition.  I don't modify anymore.  Instead, I impress myself and my children with my amazing tuck jumps, frog jumps, and air jacks.  I look forward to the one-minute fire drills, the incredibly fast-paced and lung crunching sections of each TF video.  I am also anticipating the delivery of my brand spankin' new TF workouts later this week on the Keep On Burnin' DVD.  More Chalene? More punches/kicks/shakes/squats/speedbags?  YES, PLEASE! 

And the marathon training continues as well, with early morning runs beginning this week as the sunrise is finally on my side.  This Saturday calls for twenty miles and lots o' planning for water and fuel and route changes.  I have never run quite so far, but I find I am not nervous.  I'm freakin' EXCITED.  Seeing how far I've progressed just pumps up my confidence and inflates my ego (if you can believe there was any more room for inflation). 

My next big challenge in my training?  Backing away from the cheesecake/chocolate/nutella/crescent rolls and immersing myself in Shakeology/veggies/fruits/proteins.  I need to start fueling my body for the more intense training.  Blah blah blah.  It's the hardest part of Fit Living for this food lovin' gal, but I know in my stomach of stomachs it must be done.  To hold myself accountable, be prepared for photos and menus on a daily basis.  I am vowing to share this journey as well, whether you find it interesting or not.  (For the record, if you don't care, keep your ennui to yourself.  I prefer to pretend everyone is watching.)

So - to recap - it's not indecision, it's re-dicision.  And I will be touting the blessings of Beachbody as I start new TF workouts and increase my shake consumption.  And I don't care if you don't care.  Happy Monday!

No, seriously - happy Monday!  I just kicked 55 minutes of TF ass and will be lifting with Tony and Hubby tonight (back and biceps and ab ripper X).  That's a pretty freakin' good day, endorphin-wise.  I double dog dare you to tell me otherwise.

What Runners Don't Tell You...

It's funny because it's true.  Although I must admit, I don't have a black toenail yet.  I do, however, sport two blood blisters and multiple callouses.  Pretty feet are simply not part of being a runner.  I mourned the loss of several hard-earned callouses two weeks ago when I went for what I thought was an innocent pedicure.  No one had warned me otherwise; I felt I deserved a treat for all the hard work I've been putting in.  It was dumb.  When I returned from my 16+ mile run the following day, I had enormous and incredibly painful blood blisters that frightened my children and sent them backing out of the room, away from me and my hideous feet, looks of disgust on their precious little faces.  Lesson #1: love your nasty feet.  Do not attempt to beautify them.  Focus instead on your lovely legs.  Lesson #1.5: invest in good socks.  $12.99 may seem pricey at first, but it becomes a hell of a lot cheaper when you're trying to wedge your sore feet into any shoes other than slippers.

Good socks and better bandaids.  And they always look good in running shoes.

Lesson #2:  If you run any serious distances, you're gonna have the urge do make a number two.  It is not a pleasant topic nor one to brag about.  ("You won't believe the BM I had when I finished my run! Incredible!")  I suppose this is why nobody warned me...but I discovered it on my own last summer while training for my half.  And discovered it again while running the half and being forced into portapotties after other runners experiencing the same awful smelling issues.  My suggestion?  No fruits or veggies before a long run, and try to "drop the kids at school" before you leave the house.  That may get you down to just gas.  (Further advice: always try to be first.  Not just to win, but because it places you out of the cropdusting danger zone.)  I sometimes imagine being propelled forward by these "power bursts" and often forget that though I cannot hear them due to my headphones, anyone I happen to pass will jerk their head in my direction.  So now I wait for the lonely backroads before I set myself free.

Lesson #3:  Gu, while effective, tastes like crap and feels like insect guts inching down your throat.  Think back to your first shots, chugging 'em back as quickly as possible and trying desperately not to puke in your mouth.  This is similar.  I gag every time, but I know I need easy fuel on those long runs.  So I stock up on what I deem the most unoffensive flavors and choke it back every 30 to 45 minutes.  My body thanks me nearly instantly upon finishing its initial revolt.

Lesson #4:  Slather yourself in BodyGlide.  I used to think myself quite special because I didn't chafe.  Turns out I just need to run farther.  Now I'm a chafin' fool.  So I got my first stick of Body Glide and have become a faithful user, applying wherever my skin touches clothing or other skin or armbands for my ipod.  I estimate I'll need another stick by the end of next week.  Chafe me once, shame on...my lack of chafing before.  Chafe me twice...Well, it's not gonna happen twice.  So there.

Lesson #5:  Always have frozen peas on hand.  They are excellent for icing sore knees upon finishing a distance run.  And it's economical and nutritious, too.  I bet you can't say that about any other ice packs.

Lesson #6:  Stretch mid-run.  I like to pause each hour and do a quick stretch while gagging on my Gu.  My legs thank me and I feel entirely refreshed when I start back up.  Stretch again for a longer time when you get home.  It's good for you and it feels delicious, too.  I call it my "poor girl's massage."  Plus, it gives me at least an extra ten minutes to excuse myself from tattling children and battles of who can do more and better math problems (no, seriously.  This happens.).

Lesson #7:  Rest before and after extra long runs.  I typically give myself one to two days beforehand and have watched my performance vastly improve.  The day after is also a rest day, but one involving as much non-workout movement as I can fit in.  Catch with the monkeys, a slow stroll, maybe another stretching session.  Just so the knees and muscles and hips and mind don't get all "We don't need no stinkin' workout" on me.  Sometimes you gotta remind those little whiners who's boss and that one day of hard work does not necessitate any lazing about.

Lesson #8:  If you're training for a half or a full marathon, you're gonna have to start blocking out some serious time.  Schedule in advance and be prepared to run in weather that doesn't involve sunlight or warmth.  Relish in being that batshit crazy person running in snow and rain or chugging along just as the sun wakes up.  Accept that sometimes life will get in the way and shorten your training sessions whether you pitch a fit about it or not (apparently, the universe does not care when I pout and make sarcastic comments).  The best way I've found to ensure I get my time in?  Schedule it the way I do anything else.  I will be busy at this time and Hubby must be present at home to prevent bloody battle wounds or playing with matches/running with scissors/etc.  Sometimes that requires asscrack of dawn pockets of time.  Deal with it.  If it's important, you'll find a way.  If it's not, you'll find an excuse.

It's Half Full, Damn It.

I so lucked out today.  Hubby decided to work from home.  God decided to make the day gorgeous.  The babe decided to willingly nap.  Three good guys working together so brilliantly made my own decision incredibly easy.  I decided to take a quick jaunt around The Loop (our little 3-4 miler) and follow that up with an hour of gettin' bendy with Tony Horton (X Stretch day).  To add to my fitness glee, I donned my brand new running skirt to start breaking it in for next month's race.  No blister pain, very little joint/shin pain, and I managed to keep a 10 min/mile pace.  Hello, Today!  I <3 you!

Now, I sit and contemplate a salad with all the fresh and fabulous produce I grabbed at Wegmans last night and find myself (FINALLY!) craving a fully healthy meal.  Feta, tuna, cherry tomatoes, organic spinach, sweet onions...mmmm!  I've already downed my Shakeology for breakfast (today's recipe was Coconut Dream, and yes, that name is totally accurate).  Thinking about tossing together some Southern Unfried Chicken ala Runner's World (an instant family classic I discovered a few months back) for dinner with some fresh green beans on the side.

 It's just one of those days.  Where everything is falling into place and doing it so easily.  And when I am so high on my Fit Life that I feel positive every day will be like this from now on.  ...right...?

Yeah.  I know.  It could be like yesterday, when I found myself in jammies and dreaming of Reese's all day until I caved and ransacked the freezer for the hidden Easter stash.  Followed by that Snickers egg.  Oh, and two glasses of Skinny Girl Cosmos (but it was White Cranberry, so that counts as a fruit, right?).  I eeked out my Kenpo X and even managed to contain my shopping while at Wegmans (i.e. no crap found its way into my cart, despite the Werewolf's many attempts to put it there).  But I just wasn't feeling it.  Still, today freakin' ROCKS.  So let's focus on that, shall we?

I see tomorrow as a bright shiny plaything, filled with Core Synergistics and a smattering of TurboFire.  Heapings of fresh fruit.  Leftovers of tonight's amazing dinner.  I choose to believe the babe will once again be joyful and desirous of naps and whatever food I offer him on his little tray will be just what his little belly was craving.  The dogs will defecate in the yard, not in the house, and the cats will not try to trip me as I come down the stairs.  When the Bear and the Werewolf arrive home from school, they will ask what they can do to help out and they shall play peacefully together, because they treasure sibling time.  All will be light and all will be balanced.

And as the pigs fly overhead, I will rejoice in the fact that Gertrude Hawk caramel bars provide me with six pack abs.

Perhaps...perhaps I ought to just savor the moment, eh?  Bask in RIGHT NOW and get crackin' on that salad while my favorite playlist churns out great songs in the background...That, readers, sounds like a plan.  Let's get on that, shall we?

Project "Run" Way

In another life, long long ago, I followed in the high-heeled steps of Carrie Bradshaw, not only ooh-ing and aah-ing over colorful stilettos, but prancing about town in them on a daily basis, with everything from minis to jeans and t-shirts.  I longingly perused the pages of Vogue and tried in vain to recreate the gorgeousness by shopping at Target and the Salvation Army.  Fashion was a passion.  Then came baby #3 and days at home in pajamas (not from laziness - usually - but from days so busy I have no time to change).  Without a showcase, my flamboyant footwear slowly made its way to the attic for storage.  My feet would go weeks without seeing polish or a pumice stone, encased as they were in slippers and Uggs.  My minis were banished lest they remind me of toner thighs.  I reached a point when stretchy jeans became my "polished" look.  And when I began exercising once more, my workout wardrobe reflected my mentality.  Old baggy tshirts and oversize black yoga pants hid my baby fat from myself.  Hello, rut.

I am terribly happy to announce that those days are gone.  The heels remain in their attic home, but I have a new obsession: RUNNING SHOES! CROSSTRAINERS! HIKING BOOTS!  I salivate over the newest Newtons (I WILL own a pair!), lose my breath over the stark whiteness of new Asics, have heart palpitations over each and every pair of "barefoot" running shoes.  My only sadness arises from the fact that our budget cannot currently contain my lust for athletic footwear.  I am (for the time being) in monogamous relationships with my Brooks Ghosts (for running) and my Asics Gels (for TurboFire and P90X).  Someday, though...someday I will have sneakers to match every outfit for every workout...

And speaking of outfits!!!!  Have you seen lululemon???  Be still my fashionista heart!  These are clothes that look adorable enough to wear around town.  Nay - they demand to be taken outside of the gym or the living room.  Sexy little skirts for running and slouchy, skinbaring yoga tops in gorgeous palettes are up for grabs alongside trendy headbands and flatteringly fitted jackets.  I bemoan the fact that the closest retail store is 1.5 hours from me, but Hubby rejoices.  I don't think I could restrain myself if these clothes were right in front of me.  As it is, I can spend hours online lusting after the marathon skirt (7 pockets and still lovely). 

Lululemon may be the cream of the crop (in my very biased opinion), but it's not the only site out there.  Runningskirts.com offers fantastic prints, varying lengths, and matching accessories.  It was their cover on Runners magazine that opened my eyes to the possibilities of my workout wardrobe.  The flashy knee socks were right up my alley and I wanted to feast my eyes on the rest of the collection.  Chalene Johnson's site, powderblueproductions.com, offers bright neons for high octane turbo sessions and fabulous accessories like the "Do More" trucker hat.  Even Zumba has a clothing line with light cargo pants and off-the-shoulder tops.  The options are endless and incredibly enticing.

Who says you can't sweat and be gorgeously turned out at the same time?  Like a good hair day, a good fashion day can make all the difference in your mood, regardless of what you're out to accomplish.  I don't know about you, but I'm working pretty freakin' hard for these abs and that rear, and I want to show them off in the best possible gear.  No ball gown or trendy mini is going to showcase my higher tush better than fitted yoga pants or running shorts.  And these amazing shoulders look their best in slouchy tops that just refuse to sit straight but would rather slide enticingly down one arm (and often dip low enough to give a teasing glance at my inredible biceps).  So my advice today, Readers, is to do your part for the economy and SHOP AWAY!  It's your duty to your country and your reflection.