Bumble Bee Running

The bee is moving!

2010-07-20T22:14:00.003-04:00

I've decided to move my blog to WordPress. To continue to follow my blog, visit my WordPress blog here!

Dimethylpolysiloxane....yum?

2010-07-19T16:41:00.016-04:00

I’ve been on a big organic/natural foods kick lately, and honestly, once I started looking more closely at the ingredients in things, it really started creeping me out. I’ve been looking at calories/fat/fiber for Weight Watchers, and sugar for my hypoglycemia, but I’ve never concentrated this much on everything else. Right now I’m kinda feeling like I’d like to be able to identify the ingredients in my food in a lineup, know what I mean?

For instance, sometimes it’s really hard for me to drink enough water, and I like to put low-calorie flavor packets in them for a little fruity taste. Strawberry banana is my favorite-yum! But hold up.....what is dimethylpolysiloxane? I can barely pronounce it and have no idea what it is, but it's in my drink mix. A quick Google investigation later, and I'm disappointed to know that I have 4 boxes of this stuff that I bought on sale I will never, ever be able to drink again. Because, according to Wikipedia, dimethylpolysiloxane...

"...is the most widely used silicone-based organic polymer, and is particularly known for its unusual rheological (or flow) properties. Its applications range from contact lenses and medical devices to elastomers; it is present, also, in shampoos (as dimethicone makes hair shiny and slippery), caulking, lubricating oils, and heat-resistant tiles.....As a food additive, it has the Enumber E900 and is used as an anti-foaming agent and an anti-caking agent. This silicone can be found in many processed foods and fast food items such as McDonald's Chicken McNuggets."

Oh yeah, and it's also a main ingredient in Silly Putty. So we've got Silly Putty, caulking, lubricating oils, heat resistant tiles, McNuggets and my drink mixes....that just can't be good. In fact, it seems pretty disgusting.

It's usually always easier, quicker and cheaper to buy processed foods...but look what you're getting. I just think there has to be a better way to eat! And I'm trying to find my path to that better way.

To replace my old drink mixes, I found Flavrz drink mixes, which, while not as low calorie, are organic, low sugar, made with real fruit and have absolutely NO artificial ingredients. Brilliant! I'll take a few extra calories if it means I don't need to be a chemist to understand an ingredients listing.

Busy Bee

2010-07-19T16:41:00.012-04:00

Saturday was a wash as far as exercise goes. James’ band had a show, and then there was a late-night ER visit for a friend who had a concussion...so we didn’t get home until 7:30 am. That certainly justifies sleeping til noon. I was still very tired once I woke up, and the swim and bike ride we had planned was something I didn’t feel physically OR mentally capable of. So that just meant that Sunday suddenly became a super-active, super-busy (but great!) day. No time to slack off! James & I started off with an hour bike ride, sprinkled with a quick run and topped with a gorgeous view. There is a KILLER hill to get up here, so the fact that our bike ride was shorter than usual didn't make me feel so bad. I was still feeling really tired, and the fact that it was hot and I was incredibly thirsty didn't help the overall weak feeling I had, but James really pushed me (in a good way!) to give it my all.
Then it was off to the farmer’s market for fresh veggies and live music by a friend’s band...oh yeah, there was also fresh black raspberry ice cream and organic pizza topped with nasturtium (flowers! On pizza! How fabulous!). We shared, so I didn’t feel bad about indulging.Next up was swimming. We went to a local lake, and since we weren’t town residents it was $17 to get in. 17 dollars! It was worth it, though, because I really need the swim practice. James watched out for my form while I swam some laps. And of course we goofed off for a bit, too, because all work and no play isn’t much fun! Honestly, though, I hate swimming in lakes. It creeps me out a bit. And no one was swimming all the way out to the buoys like I was, so I started envisioning monstruous lake creatures waiting out there to eat me. The good thing about swimming with goggles on is that you can see— and the bad thing about swimming with goggles on is that you can see! Seeing long green slimy grass or even a bunch of rocks makes me think of the creatures that would love to call it home....eww! I think I have too much of an imagination sometimes :) In reality, I know that no lake creature is going to eat me...maybe!

Nine Days

2010-07-16T12:03:00.008-04:00

I know I said this already, but the triathlon has really snuck up on me this year. I can’t believe its only NINE days away! Maybe it’s a matter of knowing what I’m in for this year, but I like this relaxed feeling. I hope it carries all the way through the big day. Don’t get me wrong, when I started reading through the athlete info guide they released this week, I kinda wanted to vomit for a few seconds. But it went away quickly :)

I remember last year, I was SO SO nervous the two days leading up to the triathlon. I was a ball of nervous anticipation and excitement. It was like creaking up an old rollercoaster for days. But on the morning of the tri, which should have been the top of the rollercoaster, the height of nervous anticipation and excitement and energy, I was incredibly calm. I can honestly say I was not at all nervous on that day. I was sooooooo ready. So focused and care free. It was great. I hope I can have that same feeling again. It’s my natural tendency to worry, something I’d been working on a lot, so the fact that I was so calm and clear-headed is one of the things I’m most happy about when I think about that day.

Then there’s swimming. I survived last year’s swim, but it wasn’t pretty. I’ll never forget the feeling of choking on the lake water, of being only a few seconds in to the start of the tri and feeling panic sweep over me. It was awful. And I think it’s an experience that has only been amplified by my memory of it. Last year, I was most nervous about the swim. This year, I’m most nervous about the swim AND I have a reason to be. Eeek! But the amazing Audrey took Lola & I for a swim practice the other day, which was wonderful, went great and made me feel much better. We’re going to go again next week, and James is going to go with me this weekend, so hopefully it’ll all be enough to boost my confidence and push away my bad memories.

And since somehow, the triathlon is next weekend (oh my gosh I know I can’t stop saying this, but I still can’t believe it!) I’ve already made my packing list for the weekend of the tri, in an effort to calm any nerves that may arise next week. I just feel better when I’m organized. Although I’m sure James & I will be going through the same routine as last year--we sat in my apartment and talked out every step of the next 30 or so hours of my life and all the things necessary to be properly equipped for those hours, in order to make sure I had packed everything I would need. And I still managed to forget my balloon (although thankfully James was at the race site at 4:45am the next day, balloon in hand).

I have an interesting new outfit for the triathlon. I had ordered a new tri top--OBVIOUSLY cannot wear the same thing two years in row ;) -- but the company didn’t send me what I ordered. Instead, they sent me what I like to call my triathlon catsuit. When I pulled it out of the box, I laughed. I initially tried it on only for laughs; it’s a one-piece triathlon suit, so the shorts are attached to the top. I was figuring this would be a body-image nightmare. But when I tried it on....it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t much different from my tri shorts and top, and it was comfortable. So...I decided to stick with it! Comfort is key, and I like that since the top and shorts are attached, I won’t have to worry about my top riding up or moving around. And anyway, let’s face it, a triathlon is not the time to worry about being super cute. It’s the time to worry about...nothing :)

Be here now.

2010-07-14T19:29:00.004-04:00

Somehow, the triathlon has crept up on me. Last year it was looming large, shadowing everything I did. This year, it's quieter, a pinpoint on the map of a jam-packed summer.

I've felt bad about my lower level of intensity, constantly telling myself I need to pick it up, work harder, do more, be better. Get back to where I was. Lose 5 pounds. No, 10 pounds.

But something in my mindset has shifted yet again.

Yeah, you know what, I'd like to weigh a little less. But right now, it's ok. I honestly do feel like I could stand to lose a few pounds. But overall, I FEEL good. Being active, eating right, it's an ongoing effort that I've made a part of my life. And that's better than working to achieve a short-term goal. The transformation I went through last year, it's complete, and yet it's not complete. It's every day. And that's what I wanted, that's what I set out to achieve for myself.

And in this ongoing effort, yes, I'm going to skip the gym sometimes. And it's ok! I'm going to struggle a bit with my knee, but you know what? My 5K time actually isn't that much worse with an injury than without it. And that's ok, too! Because overall, I've made exercise a can't-live-without-it part of my life.

And food....ah, yes, food. I'm going to eat too much sometimes, or eat the wrong things. I'm ok with that. Mostly, I want eating to be about health, about energy, about properly fueling my body. But sometimes, I want it to be about enjoyment, about friendship and family and love, when sitting around a table with great people or seeking out an ice cream cone on a hot summer day is about adding to the great moments in my life, not counting the points in my meal.

Otherwise, will it ever end? At my thinnest, I still wanted to lose 5 more pounds, when everyone else was telling me to stop. I think, if I choose to focus on weight, I'll always want to lose 5 more pounds.

I want to be here now. Be. Here. Now.

I could focus on a year ago, when I was 10 pounds thinner. I could focus on last month, when I should have done more. I could focus on next month, when I'd like to weigh 5 pounds less than I do now.

Instead, I want to be here. I want to be in the right now and make good choices, but not beat myself up for the slip-ups or the lazy days. I want to love myself for who I am today. Because I love who I've become, a healthy person who is more likely to be running a 5K or climbing a mountain on a Saturday morning than sleeping in; someone who tries her best to eat naturally and organically but still can't seem to resist the occassional french fry.

News flash

2010-05-06T10:47:00.004-04:00

News flash: this year is not going as planned.

Duh.

Honestly, most of the greatest things in my life have been unexpected and outside of my envisioned “plan” for myself. I have actually been MORE successful when I set goals but don’t painstakingly plot out, point-by-point, the path I’ll take to get there.

So, when Lola and I made a 2010, prep-for-the-triathlon-5K-super-schedule, I should have known that life sometimes invades the most well-intentioned plans. And that the happiest, most successful people learn how to suck it up and move forward in whatever capacity they can. I’d like to always be one of those people, but I can’t deny that I’ve faltered a bit here.

Even so, I’ve never questioned that I will still be standing on the shores of Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg early the morning of July 25th (yes, that really is the name of the lake, and isn't it just fitting that its name isn't simple, either). If it means that I run in pain, then I’ll be running in pain. I hope not to be, but if so, oh well. I’ll deal with it. I still have 79 days from today to strengthen my knee and get better. I’m confident that I’ll be standing strong that morning.

A positive outlook, one in which I thought only about today and didn’t worry needlessly about tomorrow, is what got me so far last year. Very few things worth achieving are achieved without a struggle, and I don’t want to be the kind of person who wilts at the idea of something that won’t come easy.

I can't leave behind the lessons I've learned-- that what I want, simply and honestly, is to be happy. That I’ve found pursuing happiness rarely leads to happiness; pursue other things, and you find happiness.

And I find true happiness in running and writing....they keep me invigorated, give me energy and make me feel vibrantly alive. I need to pursue them without focusing on the obstacles that might stand in my way, because whatever personal successes come from the pursuit of those things are all that I need- no more, no less.

And don't it always seem to go....

2010-04-19T17:09:00.002-04:00

I’ve been dealing with this knee thing for a month now. In my entire 27 years, I’ve never given much thought to my knees, but now I think about them more than anything else. Or at least, I think about my right knee. The weak one, the one that’s messing with me. It makes clicking noises, every now and again, to remind me that it’s there. As if I could forget.

When I got to the orthopedic doctor’s office and sat down to fill out the paperwork, Miley’s “The Climb” was playing softly from the overhead speakers. I almost started to cry, but it also made me feel stronger, more stable. My doctor’s appointment revealed no major damage, but the doctor’s attitude towards my situation once that was discovered frustrated me. I felt like he couldn’t get me out of his office fast enough. I followed him out of the room, still asking questions. While I was relieved that nothing major was wrong, I was still concerned about the pain, what was causing it and how to get it to go away.

The first time I went running after the doctor gave me the ok (with the brace, always with the brace), I switched on my iPod shuffle and the first song to play was “The Climb”. I just don’t know if I can explain how much that song affects me, but if you’ve read these words over the past year, you have an idea. The fact that it showed up at these difficult, emotional times is amazing to me, leaves me feeling encouraged, determined.

The second time I went running I thought maybe I just needed to push past the pain. Keep running. Try harder. That was not the case. There’s no pushing past it; the pain holds strong. At this point, I can run about 3 minutes before the pain asks me, not so politely, to stop.

I don’t have to wear the knee brace on a normal day; maybe it’s a blessing in disguise, but it only hurts when I run. I wish I could tell you that my knee and I were getting along marvelously, wish I could say that my attitude has totally improved since my last post, but that wouldn’t be true. I go back and forth throughout the course of a day, between being positive and feeling down.

I started physical therapy, which came with it’s own (mostly financial and logistical) annoyances, but I’m doing my best to stay positive. I’ve decided not to sign up for the next race that Lola and I were planning on doing, since it’s this weekend and I know I’m not ready for it. I’m trying not to be too discouraged and frustrated by this, but it’s hard.

All I can do, it seems, is be patient. I have not been very good at that, to be honest. I guess I’m not good at being patient in general— I want control, I want to make things happen. I don’t want to have to sit back and wait, or stand in the physical therapist’s office 2-3 times per week for 30 minutes, making miniscule muscle movements that feel like nothing yet cause my knee to ache and cost $45 a session.

I miss running. On a bad day, just seeing someone running can overwhelm me. I’ll neither confirm nor deny that there was a day, a gorgeous blue-skyed day, when seeing too many runners in too short a time period made me start to cry quietly, a few tears almost hidden by oversized sunglasses. I miss running. I miss the feeling of a really good workout, of clearing my mind of everything. I miss races. I miss trying to be better. I miss the feeling of just running and being, nothing else. I miss writing, but what do I have to write about if I’m not running, not racing? But running, racing and writing... those are my things. My outlets. They are what I do when I want to do something for me. I miss my running self. However slow I was, however much I hated running at times, I ran freely and it made me happy.

I don’t know what else to say. I don’t want to be negative. I don’t want to throw a pity party, and to be honest I hope you wouldn’t RSVP if I did.

Buzz Buzz Blah

2010-03-19T13:40:00.002-04:00

Its hard to write a blog. Because when, on Wednesday, you write things like you’ll be “unstoppable in mind” and that you’ll “keep a positive attitude”, and then you spend the next two days after that being a totally cranky bee-otch, well, you might appear a little hypocritical.

Truth is, Wednesday feels like a long time ago. I’m annoyed by this knee brace. I’m on day four of wearing it, and it’s getting less and less comfortable. It fits invisibly under only 1 pair of jeans, which I’ve now worn for 3 days in a row. I’m not in pain all the time, but every once in the while the pain shoots through my knee like a burst of electricity- when I’m walking, or I turn the wrong way, or when I first get out of bed in the morning. The nice weather makes me want to be outside: running, biking—anything! And yet I can’t be. I can’t run in tomorrow’s race; I’m not even supposed to walk it.

It’s not the worst possible thing that could happen, and I know this. I’ve only been out of commission for less than a week. I know that wearing a knee brace is not that much of an inconvenience. I know that whatever is actually wrong with my knee is probably not a huge deal, and that I can handle a few weeks of restricted activity; at least it’s probably going to be weeks, not months. I also know that letting negativity buzz around in my brain has never gotten me anywhere I want to be.

But right now, on this day, in this moment, I’m totally bummed and I can’t seem to shake it.

Bumblee Bee...Sidelined.

2010-03-17T13:39:00.003-04:00

“The worst that could happen will almost certainly not happen. And even if it does, you’ll find a way to handle it.”

This is part of my mantra, the Ralph Marston quote that has propelled me through so many days. I’m holding strong to these two sentences in particular, now more than ever.

The words popped in my head after I got a text from James on Monday morning that said "Promise me that no matter what the doctor says, you'll stay calm--we'll get through whatever it is." I haven't let any of these words leave my mind since.

As I mentioned last week, Sunday was my first 5K of the season. Yay! I was excited to get back into running. I was excited to celebrate the one-year anniversary of our first 5K. Lola, James, and James’ brother and girlfriend were all running. It was a St. Patrick’s Day race, and we were all in the spirit with green shirts, green hair, green socks. The day was fighting against our positive attitudes with its gray skies, windy gusts and drizzly rain, a stark contrast to last year’s race, when it was warm, sunny and bright. As we were lined up, waiting for the race to start, the wind started blowing even harder. Lola turned to me and said, “I guess this might be a warning, that everything is going to be harder this year.” Her prediction turned out to be right; it foreshadowed what would come next.

I was maybe a 1/4 mile into the race when my knee started to hurt. I had experienced some knee pain in the last race I ran, back in November. But that was a longer race, I thought that the extra miles were what strained my knee, and I’ve been taking it easy since then. I was concerned about longer distances, but it never crossed my mind to be concerned about a 5K. I may not be fast, and I’ll probably never think they’re exactly “easy”, but I’ve run enough now to be comfortable with a 5K. I still get a little amped up before a race, but I’m no longer nervous because I know what I’m in for. There’s comfort in the familiar— knowing how my body will feel, knowing how to regulate my breathing, running to the beat of the music that has propelled me along so many miles.

This knee pain was familiar too. It was the same pain I felt at the end of the last race I’d run. Except I was at the beginning of this one. I had miles to go.

I slowed down considerably. James had passed me within the first few steps of the race, and now I watched Lola fade into the distance, too. I was stunned that this had happened. Still, I thought it could be simple-- mind over matter. But by the time I turned the second corner of the race, I was barely running. And now, compensating for my injured knee was causing the pain to shoot down to my ankle and up to my butt. Even so, I was determined to keep running. I thought if I stopped I wouldn’t be able to start again. I passed the first mile mark, still running. It was getting increasingly painful, and eventually I had to stop, walking when the pain got to be too much, running when the pain had eased enough.

I always feel like a race is a competition against myself, not anyone else. For me, it’s always mind versus body. When I’m running, I have to ignore my mind when it says “I’m tired. Why are you doing this to me? I want to rest.” I need to ask my body if it’s tired, if it needs to rest. Most of the time, the answer is no. This time there was a different battle raging in my head. My body was saying “Stop”. My mind was saying “Keep going”. Every time negative thoughts started to overwhelm me, I would think to myself: “If it doesn’t hurt enough to cry then you can keep on going. And you aren’t going to cry because you are not a baby.” Repeating this to myself kept me putting one foot in front of the other, even as the distance I could run without stopping became shorter and shorter. I repeated it as the firefighters on the rescue cart passed me by. Twice. In my mind, getting on that cart was never an option, neither was not finishing the race. I would have kept on going if I was the last person, if I had to walk across the finish line dragging my bum leg behind me. I wasn’t giving myself an out. I didn’t want an out. I just wanted to finish the race.

And I did. It took nearly 42 minutes. So much for beating last year’s time (although last year’s time was 39 minutes, so apparently an injury doesn't make me that much slower than I was last year!). Once I crossed the finish line I was struggling to keep the tears from flowing. I spotted James and Lola and I’m pretty sure some tears escaped at that point. Not from pain, but because I was so disappointed and frustrated. And now that the race was finally over, for just a few minutes I allowed myself to be worried.

I saw my regular doctor on Monday and he’s sending me to an orthopedic doctor. I couldn’t get an appointment for two weeks, so for now I’m armed with a bottle of anti-inflammatory pills, a knee brace and a positive attitude. While I won’t know for sure until I see the orthopedic doctor, my regular doctor said I would be lucky if in 4-6 weeks I could run again (I’m determined to be lucky). He thinks I’ll probably need a little bit of physical therapy. Then, if that doesn’t work, he said it would probably mean an MRI and possibly surgery. But that’s worst case scenario, one that I’m not even thinking about at this point— this is where the Ralph Marston quote comes in. The worst that could happen will almost certainly not happen. And even if it does, I’ll find a way to handle it.

I can’t lie, there are moments when the disappointment rises up in me like a wave—sudden, strong, knocking my positivity off balance. It’s not fading as the days go by. I’m not sure how I’ll feel about standing on the sidelines at this weekend’s race, but I know I won’t like it. I already know that the thought of not being able to run for weeks-- just as the weather is getting nicer, the sun is shining more and the days are getting longer-- feels like a cruel punishment. Which is funny, because with my love/hate relationship with running, sometimes running itself feels like punishment, and yet not being able to run feels so much worse.

Still, I consider myself resilient. If I can’t be unstoppable in body, I can be unstoppable in mind. I’ll keep my knee brace on all day. I’ll take glucosamine & chondroitin in the hopes that it will help my healing. I’ll follow the acronym so many runners already know: RICE (rest, ice, compression & elevation). I’ll take my anti-inflammatories twice a day, as directed. I’ll flavor my dinners with garlic, ginger and red pepper, all thought to decrease inflammation. I'll take my place on the sidelines instead of in the crowd of runners ready to race (for now). And I’ll cross my fingers, keep a positive attitude, and hope that this is just a minor bump in the road, as overcomeable as any challenge I’ve faced before.

'Tis the season

2010-03-08T15:34:00.001-05:00

This Sunday marks the first 5K of the “season”. I’m sure many runners would say there’s not really a running season, but as far was winter running goes, personally I’m far too clumsy to run in the snow. Also its freaking cold out and I really hate the cold. And I go into semi-hibernation in the winter. But now, as the temperature rises, so do my hopes that spring is finally here. The sun was peeking through the blinds this Saturday morning when I woke up, and in between the slats I could also see slices of blue sky and clouds— the good kind of clouds, puffy white ones, the kind that always look like something else, that mesmerize you with their infinite possibilities.

Not only is this Sunday’s 5K the first of the year, it’s also a special one in my mind because it is the first race Lola and I ran a year ago. It is our 5K anniversary, if you will. Tradition says the gift for a one-year anniversary is paper so it’s appropriate that on Sunday we’ll be pinning on our paper race numbers, an anniversary gift to ourselves as we celebrate not only a year of struggle, success, achievement, perseverance and the happiness that has come with it, but also another wonderful running season ahead.

Those race numbers might be just paper, but they represent so much more. I have them framed in my bedroom. Seeing them hanging on the wall is a demonstration of my determination, a reminder to myself of what I can achieve, and how far I’ve come. My eye always goes to the green and orange race bib, the first one I ever pinned on.

It’s hard to believe that a year has gone by. A year ago, I was running this 5K based on Audrey’s suggestion, as a “practice” race in preparation for the triathlon. I was about halfway to my weight goal. Lola and I had recently started going to the gym together and somehow she agreed to do the 5K with me. I remember our pre-race dinner the night before, watching Run Fatboy Run and praying that neither of us would take a face plant like that poor guy did. I remember my concern over my finish line photo— that was totally warranted, as it turns out, since the tank top I wore that day turned out to be way too low cut to run in (in my official finish line photos I looked like I belonged in a Girls Gone Wild 5K). I remember my late-night safety pin run, I remember being so so SO nervous the morning of the race. I remember sitting on my parents kitchen floor later that day, after the race, in a semi-daze over the accomplishment.

I don’t think either Lola or I would have dreamed that we’d become almost addicted, running a race every chance we could, leaving us with more free race t-shirts than we can fit in our drawers. I don’t think we would have guessed that through the following months we’d recruit her husband, my boyfriend, friends and family to run with us— heck, I bet we even convinced total strangers to run a race or two. I don’t think we could have guessed that, by the end of 2009, we’d have run in ten races and be planning a similar schedule for 2010.

It’s amazing what happens in a year. Shifting slowly over time like those puffy white clouds, life changes until suddenly you see something completely different. The constant evolution can be scary, but look again, and let it look like something else— like fun, like opportunity, like another great journey ahead. Let yourself be mesmerized by the infinite possibilities.

Two Simple Words

2010-03-01T20:32:00.002-05:00

When I was in the midst of all my training, when all I did was eat, sleep and breathe running, when my goal still lay out ahead of me and I was still reaching for it, I had a secret fear. And this fear was in my mind in the form of a question, two simple words:

What's next?

This fear went against everything I was trying to teach myself- don't worry too much, don't think so much about the future, and certainly don't worry and think too much at once. But still, I couldn't help it. This fear was real. I brushed it aside, I didn't dwell on it, but it rose to the top of my mind every now and again. I couldn't help it. What WAS next? My triathlon goal had a very concrete date- on July 26th I was going to be a triathlete (I didn't allow myself to question this. It was not a question. I was going to do it). But what would July 27th be like?

I'm sure this fear is understandable. When you focus your life around one thing, and that thing is suddenly, seemingly over....what do you do? I didn't know the answer. I didn't think the triathlon defined me, but for the moment, I was defining myself by that goal. It was what I talked about when I saw people who I hadn't seen in a while. It was what I talked about with the people I saw all the time. It was the biggest thing in my life. It almost WAS me. What would I do without it?

What's funny is, while I usually tell everyone in my life everything, I never admitted this fear out loud. I don't think I wanted to let it out in the world; if it was only in my head it wasn't as real. If it was only in my head I didn't have to answer the question.

What's funny is, one day someone gently asked me this very question: "What's next?", two words that exposed all of my hidden fears and my answer: "I don't know", wasn't as scary as I'd thought.

What's funny is, as we continued on in this conversation he asked me what my biggest hope would be. And I said, I couldn't help it but even after everything my secret daydream was that my Prince Charming would be waiting for me at the finish line.

What's funny is, the person I was having this conversation with was James. I didn't know it at the time, but he was my prince. And he was indeed waiting for me at the finish line.

What's funny is, this whole experience has made me realize that the question "What's next?" is nothing to be afraid of. It works out in ways you cannot imagine. But it works out.

Something I've understood from the start was that nothing in life is predictable. You never know what's next. But what I've learned is, you've got to have faith, you've got to believe in better days ahead, in the life you can create and the life you can't, in the possibilities of the future.

I am not naive enough to think this means nothing will ever go wrong, that everything will always be perfect. No. But I believe in the magic of the every day and I can find the beauty in the life around me.

Even though there is too much stress lately and not enough hours in the day, even though there are angry clients and cranberry juice spills on beige carpet and a pile of laundry that threatens to overtake the bedroom that's only slightly larger than the pile of bills, I still look around and see so many great things happening.

Babies are growing in the bellies of three of my girlfriends-- women who are fabulous, women who will make great mothers, who will make the world a better place by raising children who will be beautiful people in every sense of the word. There are smiles on the faces of people whose smiles had been gone for far too long. There's friends, and family, there are birthday parties and engagements. Love seems to be everywhere. There is music, and dancing. There are so many great moments that none of us could ever have known were next.

And yes, throughout it all, there is running.

Welcome to my life, 2010

2009-12-31T10:21:00.002-05:00

Today we all stand at one of those interesting places in life, somewhere that is at once both the end and the beginning. While you might be able to mark a few events in the course of your life as simultaneously an ending and a beginning, it's usually only in retrospect that you recognize it. Today is rare because we all know it as it's happening.

While not one who usually believes in looking backward, only forward, the thought that came into my head early this morning was that I wasn't sure if I was ready for 2009 to end. This has been a great year. If you'll excuse me for saying so, it has been MY year. No matter what happens in the future, I know I'll always look at 2009 as an amazing 365 days. It has been a year filled with more emotion, more smiles, more laughter, struggle, triumph, determination, support, appreciation, sweat, accomplishment and love than any of the 25 years I've lived before it. Whether it was hard or easy, I've enjoyed every single day of this year (which would be more accurately defined as a journey), and even more so from this vantage point, looking back at it all. I started somewhere so much different than where I ended up. This year has given me so much. I’m not sure I really want to leave the year of Me behind.

Yet what I realized after thinking about this for a few minutes took my worries away. 2009 didn't give me anything. I took from 2009. Everything will come with me into 2010. And, like 2009, 2010 has no innate gifts to offer. It will have good moments and bad moments, too. It's up to me to take from the next 365 days everything that I want; to achieve goals, to laugh harder, smile easier, worry less, love more, run faster, be stronger. Standing at the end of a year in which I reached out and grabbed every fabulous moment I could....well, that's actually a great feeling. Will 2010 be better? I don't know, but I know that it could be, and I know that how wonderful it will be rests largely on my shoulders. And if it's up to me, then it's going to be. Plus I'll be ringing in the new year in a pair of insanely fabulous silver sequined heels, hand in hand with a guy that outshines the sparkliest of shoes, so I know I'll be off to a good start.

As ‘09 draws to a close, I’m reminded of the wise words of my dad when I told him about my blog & the tri nearly a year ago: “You can do it if you put your mind and body to it, which you are and will. It won't be easy, but what things are in life that test a person?” I know that I am capable of anything and ready to welcome what the next year has to offer.

I’m reminded of the infinite wisdom of Miley Cyrus, whose words always ring true:
“There’s always gonna be another mountain/I’m always gonna wanna make it move/Always gonna be an uphill battle/Sometimes I’m gonna have to lose/Ain’t about how fast I get there/Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side/ It’s the climb.” I know that I am ready to enjoy every great moment that will come to be in the year ahead.

I’m reminded of a Hallmark card that I love-- I don't think I could say it any better or simpler than this, or I would try: "This is the beginning of another 365 day journey around the sun. Enjoy the ride." I know that I am looking forward to the adventure.

So goodbye, 2009. I'll never forget you.
Bring it on, 2010. I am so, so, so ready for you.

Seven

2009-11-20T13:26:00.002-05:00

It's probably fitting that my first 5k since the triathlon was on a cold, windy, rainy Sunday morning in October, the kind where, if it was possible, you'd wake up, look outside, and go back to bed. I think it's fitting because it really takes determination and commitment to want to run in such weather (and to watch others run in that weather- thanks Mom, Dad & James!). And determination and commitment to running is something that's fallen a little by the wayside for me in the past few months.

I'll level with you. I've gained 7 pounds since the triathlon. Seven. Two or three I would be ok with. Seven I'm not. But guess what? I totally deserve the seven pounds. My gym visits have been sporadic, my eating habits have gotten worse. If I gain any more weight I'll be disappointing myself. The great thing is, I feel like I learned enough in the past ten months or so to know exactly how to get back on track. And getting back on track means, in part, running a 5k.

Besides that, this 5k was a significant one because it was the first one my brother and I were running together. I talked a LOT of smack all summer long about how I would leave him in the dust come race day. Even as I was saying it, I kinda knew it was baloney- my brother being a natural athlete, he has things going for him that I never will. But the smack-talking continued nonetheless. And then it dropped off somewhere around September. I'm not normally one to run my mouth, and I think I just ran out of steam. That, and I realized it was all fluff anyway. My brother said that I would probably beat him, or we could at least run together during the 5k, which was also baloney, whether he knew it or not.

'Cause let me tell you, once the horn blew and the race started, I saw my brother for about 45 seconds before he disappeared into the crowd of runners ahead. Way ahead. Waaaaaaaaay ahead. I didn’t see him again til the finish line. Not only that, but I was in this weird place within the pack where there weren’t many people I could see right ahead of me, and I could see no one behind me. Nervousness started weighing me down more than my rain-soaked clothing was. Was I last? This has always been my fear, and in this race, it was more possible than ever— the horrible weather weeded out the novice and spur-of-the-moment runners (and probably the sane ones, too) so the number of people in the race was small. And, I figured these were dedicated, good, solid runners who were RUNNERS. I still have moments where I feel like I pretend to be a runner by running, and that’s what fools people. But an ACTUAL runner? Still go back and forth on that one.

Thankfully, I was not last. By the time I got to the finish line (at 37:30, a time that’s painful for me to admit. But on the bright side, I ran the whole thing besides a quick walk at the water station, so yay for me!) my brother had already been there for seven whole minutes. He could have been in his car, headed home to take a shower, put on dry clothes, and try to forgive me for what I had just put him through. But, of course, he joined the cheering squad at the finish line that was quite enthusiastically (given the cold, rainy conditions they had just spent 37 and a half minutes standing in) waiting for me to cross the finish line.

The next day, I felt like it did after my first 5K- meaning every movement I made caused my body to ache. That’s what I get for taking so much time off. And I’m sure I’m going to be feeling it again a week from today. I’ll be running a 4.748 mile race on Thanksgiving morning with my mom, brother, Lola, James and some friends. Oh, and about 10,000 other people. It’s going to be the longest, biggest race I’ve ever done. Despite my seven pounds, you better believe I will not feel bad later that afternoon when I have an extra helping of stuffing and a super long nap on the couch.

The bee is back!

2009-09-28T16:32:00.004-04:00

I guess I couldn't stay away for too long. Writing, like running, is a cleansing thing for me. And maybe you're wondering....what happened next? And I hope I don't disappoint.

But truth is, what happened next is an unwinding. Relaxation. Rest. Recovery. I needed it. To focus so intently on a goal for so long, to be physically and mentally moving so constantly, to remove all distractions and never waver...it's exhausting. It was a phenomenal feeling of accomplishment to cross the finish line. And then I needed to not be doing it anymore. Just for a little while.

When I crossed that finish line I was a different person than the day I signed up for the race. Achieving everything you've set out to achieve is as awe-inspiring as it is humbling. Somehow, by the time I crossed that line, everything else in my life had fallen into place. Some things had changed drastically, others hadn't changed at all. But my outlook on everything had changed- so therefore, everything was different. Everything was better.

And, perhaps one of the most mystifying things of all- in the midst of all of this, in the midst of not trying, of not thinking about dating, of not wanting to date, of being happy being just me- I met the greatest guy. By the time I crossed that finish line I was falling in love. And that was the one thing I didn't really dream would actually happen. But somehow, by making other things happen- things for me happen- that happened, too.

I know that it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't gotten myself to a good place. My mom once told me that I had to focus on myself, on what I wanted, what made me happy, before I could ever hope to find a good relationship. Honestly, at the time, I thought she was missing the point- she had no idea what it felt like to be me, 26 and single for years, when she, at 26, was married and pregnant with me. Oh boy, I should have known better. As I think I've said before, my mom is smart and pretty much always right. Despite knowing that, I brushed off her comments at the time. But I never forgot the conversation we had, and I've since realized that she was right.

There are some things in life, like completing a triathlon, that you can work towards, and, through lots of hard work and effort, achieve. There are other things, like love, that you just can’t. You just have to get yourself to a place where you’ll be ready for it, should it come into your life. Without knowing it, I wasn’t ready before. And then, also without knowing it, I was. And love walked in.

Believe me, I’m well aware of how cliched and storybook-ending that sounds. And I don't care, because it's what happened. Cliches are cliches for a reason- because they're true more often than not, and there is no such thing as a storybook-ending and I'm well aware of that. (Ok, that's not quite true- I'll always hold out for the storybook ending. My version of the storybook, that is). The point is...well, there’s lots of points, aren’t there? But ultimately, it's just like I said in the beginning- it's all in how you look at things. It's that complicated, and it's that simple. It's still pretty emotional for me when I think about the past nine or so months- how far I've come, how hard I've worked, how happiness came once I stopped trying so hard to have it.

Somewhere in this period of recovery came another realization. While I needed to slow down, I really don't want to lose my momentum, I don't want to stop here. I decided I want to do the triathlon again next year- and I still don't really know if I can pinpoint why. I just do. And so I will. Isn't that how it's always worked? I know that, moving forward, I want and need more of a balance between this and everything else. Before, it consumed me, and that was a good thing. Now, making sure it doesn't consume me will also be a good thing. By focusing on that one thing for a while, I emerged with a well-rounded life, a new appreciation for every piece of it, and a fresh outlook on what's to come. And I'm going to run with that.

Part 4: The finish line

2009-08-03T17:51:00.005-04:00

And you know, that really is what I like the best about running. There's nothing else involved. You can just run. I still have a love/hate relationship with it, but how does the saying go? Better the devil you know than the one you don't? I'm most comfortable with running so it was a huge relief to reach that leg of the tri.

Even more encouraging was the fact that the run was 2.9 miles, not 3.1. That's a small difference that makes a big difference, at least in my mind. Usually at some point during a 5K my mind is fixated on the deep desire to not be running anymore. But that never happened the day of the triathlon. I honestly think I was so happy to be in the moment I was in, that I didn't want to rush it. Don't get me wrong, I didn't want it to last forever or anything. But I wanted to appreciate every step for what it was.

As I rounded the second-to-last corner, I started to get a little teary-eyed. It was the first moment I allowed myself to get overwhelmed, and I quickly stopped. I knew I couldn't get emotional yet, I wasn't done, and until I crossed the finish line I wouldn't allow myself to get distracted.

It was only a minute or so later until I was crossing the finish line but the tears that had started to well up in my eyes were long gone. Crossing the finish line. I don't know how to describe that feeling. Relief that it was over, that I did it. Pride in the fact that I was able to accomplish something that was so outside of my normal self. Happiness as I met up with the family and friends who had come to cheer me along, waving bumblebees and signs and cheering for me the whole way.

And I was also very humbled...to be surrounded by so many women whose goals were probably quite similar to mine, and to be surrounded by the people who have been so supportive and encouraging of me these past few months, who would get up early and stand around all morning just to see me for a few seconds here and there in order to see me cross the finish line.

It was also somehow humbling to realize I had done exactly what I set out to do. In the beginning I said: "For whatever reason and accumulation of circumstances, I want to complete a triathlon. So I will. I will use my energy to focus, concentrate, work hard, step outside the box. Actually, I will swim, bike and run outside the box. Why not?" And I did. And standing on the other side of that finish line, I knew there really isn't anything I can't do.

Now here's the other thing I've truly learned that I hope I never forget. Life is crazy. It doesn't happen how you expect it to. It doesn't happen when you expect it to. But if you hang on for the ride, follow your heart and keep your head up no matter how rocky your path gets, the good things in life will prevail. There will be something to catch you before you fall. When you least expect it, something so good can happen.

When I set this goal for myself, it was a big deal to me. I said "I decided to change everything", and I completely meant that. But never did I imagine how big it would get. Never did I imagine that when the goal was achieved, I would be so at peace with myself, with my life. That I would have everything, and want nothing. That I would be so entirely transformed, mentally and physically.

I never imagined that I could ask myself "What's next?" and realize that I'm okay with the fact that I don't really know for sure. But I'm incredibly excited to find out.

Part 3: Liking Biking

2009-08-03T09:17:00.000-04:00

So, I was still pretty psyched by the time I reached my bike (which I was able to find thanks to the giant bumble bee balloon tied to my place on the bike rack, that my mom bought for the occasion). I mean, at least with the bike if something goes wrong you can stop and figure it out. Swimming doesn't quite allow you that advantage. But to be honest, even before I reached my bike any negative feelings about the swim were gone. I had already mentally moved on to the next thing, which was getting to the transition area. Drying my feet, putting my socks on, putting my shoes on, putting my helmet on, grabbing my bike, and going. But I was calm. I took my time. I can't quite explain the cool, composed focus I had going on. I wasn't worried about time, I wasn't concerned with anything other than doing the next thing I needed to do. My mind was completely clear of anything extraneous, I was completely in the moment.

So many people had told me, don't forget to acknowledge the moment when you're in it. Don't forget to look around, take it in, really feel it as it's happening. And I am so thankful I was able to do that. I enjoyed the scenery during the bike ride, the people on their front lawns cheering everyone on, the homemade signs dotting the race course. I got off my bike and walked up most of the two painfully steep hills when I found I couldn't quite make it up. Ordinarily I would scold myself for doing such a thing. But this time I didn't care. I was just in a zone....happy for the women who were speeding by me and glad to see there were women like me, huffing and puffing and barely moving up the hill until they got off and walked the rest of the way. I put zero pressure on myself. It was fine either way. That's not to say I wasn't trying or putting in an effort. Of course I was. But it was a relaxed, sane, happy effort.

Before long, I rounded a corner and a volunteer called out that we had 5 miles left. Ok, I thought to myself, that means I've done 7 miles already. So I'm more than halfway through. And I feel great. So this will be a breeze....And I just continued to enjoy it.

And then it was over. Before I knew it, I was hopping off my bike and heading back into the transition area to drop my bike, grab an energy gel and pick up my race belt, thinking: This is the part I know. This is the part I have already overcome. This is the best part- just me, running.

Part 2: Swim Lessons

2009-07-30T19:26:00.003-04:00

And then suddenly I wasn't standing on the edge anymore. I was swimming.

And just as suddenly, I inhaled a huge mouthful of lake water and any ease I felt about my strength as a swimmer disappeared. I was choking. And trying to swim. With 30 other people. And they were all around me. And I was still choking. And I was tired. More than a little freaked out. And only 15 seconds into the 1/2 mile swim. Oh God.

I flipped over onto my back to get my face out of the water. I couldn't stop coughing on the water I had swallowed. Why hadn't I practiced swimming more? Twice?! In a calm, clear, seaweed-free pool?! Was I kidding myself thinking that was enough? I was suddenly so shaken and could feel exhaustion creep into my body. I looked up, saw that the first buoy I had to swim to was still incredibly far away, and realized that I needed to get. it. together. Or I would never make it. So I calmed myself down and just focused on doing what needed to be done. Which was mainly: a) staying afloat and b) moving closer to the finish.

It was ridiculously tiring. I felt like part of the time I was swimming, but mostly I was surviving. I think I invented some pretty nifty swim strokes in my effort to simply make it through. That was the longest half mile of my life. When I was finally done, I was so happy to be out of the water that despite how tired I was, I ripped off my swim cap and goggles and ran up the beach with renewed energy, waving enthusiastically to my mom when I spotted her on the sidelines. I was just so happy to be alive and on dry land, and to have the hardest part of the tri behind me that I felt like doing cartwheels. After the swim, the bike seemed like it would be an absolute breeze.

Part 1: I did it!

2009-07-30T19:04:00.005-04:00

I did it! The triathlon is over. I kicked its ass.

Friday and Saturday I was buzzing with nervous energy. I was so anxious, not nervous, but anxious, that I couldn't figure out what to do with myself. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that the tri was Sunday....it seemed so surreal. I had been preparing for so long for that day that I almost forgot the day would actually come. But suddenly, there it was. And I could barely breathe.

But once Audrey picked me up on Saturday to head to orientation and registration, the calm that I had been hoping for started to settle over me. I knew I had prepared for this, mentally and physically, every day since I made the decision to do it. I knew I was ready, not just by the fact that I now owned a triathlon suit, bike helmet and race number belt, but by the fact that I had not a shadow of a doubt that I would accomplish exactly what I set out to do.

This calmness carried throughout Saturday into Sunday. It was exactly what I was hoping I would feel. I slept well the night before, I woke up without butterflies in my stomach. I was amped up, thats for sure, but in a very determined, even-keeled way. I wasn't nervous at all. I was just ready to go. Bring it on, triathlon!

We left the hotel and headed to the race site to set up our transition areas. The number of bikes lining the rows was pretty incredible. There were so many people, and we had so much time to kill before our swim waves started. Normally these would be anxiety-inducing factors. Yet somehow I still wasn't nervous. Just ready.

At 8:15, I entered the (freezing cold!) water with my swim wave. 30 or so girls in yellow swim caps, all about my age, all about to do what I was about to do. I can't tell you what their journeys were to get to that moment. I only know mine. And I made myself think of it as I stood there waiting for the horn to blow. This is it, I thought. Here it is. You are standing on the edge of your moment.

2 Days

2009-07-24T18:28:00.002-04:00

I've been trying to write a post. I really have. And I really want to. I just don't know what to say.

This has been such a long journey with so many great moments, so many accomplishments and so much change. So much of it unexpected. So much of it beyond what I imagined. And the goal, the culmination of all my hard work, dedication and unwavering focus, is two days away. It's an overwhelming feeling. It's exciting. And I'm a big ball of nervous energy right now.

I know two things in this moment.

One. I did everything I set out to do and so, so much more. I couldn't be more amazed at how different every single thing in my life is.

And two. On Sunday I will become a triathlete.

Thank you.

2009-07-08T21:13:00.005-04:00

It's impossible to get through life without the help of those around you. Not necessarily because you couldn't, but because you just don't. Help comes, sometimes unspoken, in hundreds of large and small ways, all the time.

Maybe it's only me that takes each step when I go for a run- no one is physically helping me move my legs. Maybe my motivation comes from something inside me- no one tells me what to do. Maybe this whole thing is about me- my idea, my plan, my goal. After all, didn’t I say that the whole reason I chose this goal was that it had nothing to do with anyone else, only me?

But that does not mean that no one is helping me. Each and every step I've taken-- both literally and figuratively-- has been backed by the support of so many wonderful people. Could I have done it without them? Yes. But did they help me do it? Absolutely. I could have done it without them, but it wouldn’t have been the same. Sometimes getting help seems like a bad thing- like you can’t do something on your own. But that’s not true. When people want to help you and support you not because you asked for it, or even because you need it...it’s a wonderful thing.

So. I moved my own feet. And here’s to some of the people who made that possible.

Amelia. I have no idea how I have not mentioned you here before, because without you no one would not be reading these words. You're the one who put the blog bug in my head, and I am so thankful. Besides that, you've been one of my most positive supporters, and have listened to my crazy thoughts more times than I can count. Thank you so, so much.

Audrey, your seemingly crazy idea to do a 5K before the tri has changed my life tremendously. Thanks for patiently re-teaching me how to swim and for always having the sweetest most encouraging things to say. Thank you. Because of you, I will not drown.

Callie and Wayne, I don’t care if you hate your blog names. I love you. Thank you for running with me. And thank you for always being truly happy for me, and for believing in me and in every aspect of my future.

Lola. I cannot imagine what the past few months would have been like without you. I would have definitely puked before the first 5K (and it might have been my last), maybe even cut out of the gym early some days and would not have given myself over to the idea of dating as easily. And I would have had a lot less fun. I don't know how else to say how happy I am that you came on this journey with me....thanks for being the yin to my yang.

James....it's still beyond words. Thanks for reading this, understanding me, and then doing something amazing. You made me realize that it is possible to do something for yourself that can truly reach other people. And speaking of beyond words-- thank you for the bubble.

Piz, you believe in my words with such a conviction that I can really see myself on Oprah someday. I promise I'll figure out a way to get you on camera too :) Thanks for training with me, for coming to see me run, and oh yeah, for being the best brother in the whole wide world.

Mom & Dad, thank you for... everything. For being there. For believing in me. For laughing when I told you I was going to do a triathlon, because it reminds me how far I’ve come.

I just had to say all these thank you's now, because I'm hopping on a plane to Mexico in the morning and I know that once I get back they days will fly by and it will suddenly be the day of the triathlon. I wanted to say these thank you's before then so that when I cross the finish line each of you will know the role you played in getting me there and the gratitude I have for it. Because let's face it, I'll probably be so exhausted I won't be able to breathe or form a coherent thought to thank you then.

I can't wait! 16 days!

2009-07-01T22:39:00.002-04:00

Yesterday was a really hot day and the sun was blazing, so naturally that was the day I had to leave work to take a trip to a local historical society to get some images for a project we're working on. Whatever idea you have in your head of a historical society, I bet you're right. It was just like that. Hot, lots of stuff, old smells, and no fresh air to breathe. I didn't even have a chance to recover because when I got back to work I found out this was also the day that the air conditioner decided to break. I spent the last two hours of work trying to cool myself down. It was not just that it was hot. It was that it was stuffy. It was stifling. By the time I walked out at 5pm, I felt like I could barely breathe.

I got into my car (which was even hotter and more suffocating) and the feeling didn't go away. Even after the air conditioning kicked in. Even after I drank a bunch of water. Even once I was halfway home. The feeling seemed disproportionate to the actual temperature displayed on my dashboard. It was making me nervous. Panicky. And then I realized-- this is what I used to feel like every day.

I had to give that thought a moment. Wow. I used to feel this way all the time. In the winter, having nothing to do with the heat. On a normal day, when nothing in particular was wrong. My mind's own constant revolution would cause the elephant to creep up and sit on my chest. Or it just never left. I could never breathe.

I don't know how I got that way.

I don't know how I got this way.

But thank God.

Lucky Charms & Mr. Miyagi

2009-06-28T09:48:00.007-04:00

Since I started off this week feeling like the energy had been completely drained from my body, I figured it might be a good thing to give myself a week to take it easy with the exercising and counting points, and have some relaxed, no worries kind of fun.

I am proud to say I was tremendously successful in this endeavor. While I still worked out 4 days this week, it was also a week full of Lucky Charms, an ice cream cone, Coronas and late-night karaoke. So, it's true that I may not have figured out the balance thing by tipping the scales too far the other way (no pun intended by the way, but that's obviously a subconscious confession to the fact that I am not looking forward to stepping on the scale on Tuesday). But that's okay with me because I had a blast while I was doing it. Might as well get a little break in now, because the next month (28 days to be precise) is surely to be one in which I push myself the hardest. Might as well go into it with a re-energized state of mind.

Given that we were both not up for another killer bike ride like the one we took last week (which honestly left me exhausted for 3 days), my brother and I decided to take a quick bike ride and run. I already knew that my energy level was low so there was no real goals for this time, just to ride. Except, my brother did remind me again that I need to stop braking down hills, because I need to take advantage of the speed. Yes, I brake when I go down hills. I get scared! I don't really know why I'm such a wimp. But yesterday I did manage to not break down one big hill, so despite having low energy levels we did manage to accomplish something!

In a moment that will remind us all of how clutzy and athletically-impaired I can be, when biking up a hill earlier, the capri pants I was wearing got caught in my bike and ripped.

Thank goodness that I managed to get out of my toe cages and off my bike, because I could have just as easily tipped right over. That would not have been any fun at all. I tore off the piece of my pants that was hanging in shreds so it wouldn't get caught again, and being the resourceful guy he is, my brother fashioned it into a totally awesome sweatband a la the Karate Kid.

You see the resemblance, right?

Except he's more like Mr. Miyagi, because he's my teacher, reminding me what I need to learn, teaching me how and challenging me even without meaning to, in my effort to keep up with him. And as it turns out, the real Mr. Miyagi also has some lessons I could use:

Miyagi: What matter?
Daniel: I'm just scared. The tournament and everything.
Miyagi: You remember lesson about balance?
Daniel: Yeah.
Miyagi: Lesson not just karate only. Lesson for whole life. Whole life have a balance. Everything be better. Understand?

Testing the waters

2009-06-22T19:31:00.003-04:00

I don't know what is wrong with me, but for the past week or so I've lacked the energy and motivation that has been pretty much consistent over the past few months. Don't get me wrong-- despite this, I've still been going to the gym, running, biking, doing everything I usually do (and putting in a solid effort), it's just that at some point while I'm doing it, I feel like I'm submitting myself to some kind of torture, and after I'm done I feel completely exhausted.

I'd like to think that this is partially the weather's fault, because it's been super gloomy and rainy for what feels like 2 months but is probably more like 2 weeks— and I don’t do well without sunshine. What I don’t want to think is that I’m just tired. While in general I believe you should listen to your body when you feel like you need a rest, I find that I never practice this belief in my own life. The stubborn side of me comes out and I just tell myself to stop being such a baby, have a protein shake and deal with it. Don't I need to push myself to the point of exhaustion? Doesn't my body need to know what that feels like? Doesn't exhaustion just mean that I'm working really hard, and isn't that a good thing?

I know (because I’ve been told by Lola and Callie, who are often smarter about me than I am) that now that I’ve come this far, I need to concentrate more on finding balance and learning to allow myself to rest when I find that I haven’t allowed myself to do something fun/relaxing in a while and I need an extra coffee--with a shot of espresso-- to feel like a functional human being.

I think by “balance”, Lola means that she wants me to retract my no-dating policy, which, at her insistence, I kind of did a couple of weeks ago (I refused to call it a date, and it was quickly dubbed a “friend outing”). While it didn’t exactly work out smashingly in the end, I learned a lot of important lessons that really surprised me.

To be honest, if it wasn’t for Lola’s convincing, I wouldn’t have gone out with him. Besides the fact that I didn’t think he was my type (whatever my “type” is), I wasn’t sure I wanted to be dating again- even just one measly date. And I would have been passing up a really great date with a super nice guy without even realizing it. That’s lesson 1. Lesson 2: it’s not all or nothing. You can test the waters, dip your toes in rather than diving in headfirst. This might sound obvious, but I guess I felt like coming out of my dating coma meant that I was going to be totally thrown wide awake into the dating stratosphere. But that’s simply not true. A date can just be a date, if you let it be (or in this case, a friend outing). Lesson 3 is one I already knew but hadn’t been given in return for quite some time: honesty is key. I was really honest with him upfront about my hesitance towards dating due to my laser-like focus on myself. Not only was he okay with that, but he respected it and still wanted to go out with me. And I totally commend him for this because I think my situation is hard to explain to someone, at least without them thinking I was two steps away from crazy and might be walking a fine line now. And he was quite honest with me upfront about where he was in his life. It was so refreshing. Complete honesty right from the get go is rare in the dating realm, at least in my experience (and I do happen to have some of the most bizarre dating stories out there, so maybe my personal experience is just unlucky). But the transparency in this situation-- before we even went out-- made for a totally relaxed, completely enjoyable evening that overall started to renew my faith in the entire concept of dating.

Overall, I realized I am much more optimistic about dating in general, and—here’s the key— a hundred times more okay with the fact that I'm single than I was six months ago. And--how bizarre is this?-- I have found myself suddenly thankful that I didn't get into a relationship back then. I needed to figure myself out first, not find someone to save me.

And I realized that I don’t always have all the answers- even when it comes to myself. Sometimes I need to listen to the people around me. Sometimes I need to be more open. And sometimes I just need to take a chance.

2009-06-21T18:34:00.002-04:00

Today's bike ride kicked. my. ass. I probably wouldn't even be typing right now, except I have a laptop and can therefore stretch out on my couch while writing--that's about all the physical exertion I can handle right about now.

Let me rewind to yesterday. My brother and I went biking and I felt like I accomplished a lot.
With his help, I tackled some hills and learned how to switch gears appropriately. Might not sound like a big deal, but I'm really happy that we focused on this and that he was there to help me because I feel much more prepared. The bike ride I take in my town is great, but there are no hills, so it's a little wimpy as far as training goes.

At my brother's insistence (and also because we couldn't find a wrench in the right size), I didn't take the toe cages off my bike and instead learned how to use them. I was a little scared of them and had never managed to get both my feet in at once; I was afraid I would tip over, which when you think about it is absolutely something that would happen to me. But I learned to use them! And I didn't tip over! Not only that, but by the end of today I was getting them both in on the first try. This made me really happy. It's the small things in life sometimes. Kind of like this next accomplishment....

I managed to grab my water bottle and take a drink while riding! AND I put it back while riding. What now, biotch?! Yeah, I know. You're intimidated by my skillz. Don't worry. Today I managed to grab the water bottle but nearly dropped it, caught it by the lid, nearly lost control of the bike and rode off the path into the grass, forgot my feet were in the toe cages and almost fell off my bike. So this still needs some work.

Immediately after the ride, we ditched our bikes, tossed our helmets, and went for a run around the block. We had been warned that your legs will feel incredibly weird when you make the transition from biking to running, and those warnings were definitely justified. I felt like someone was pulling down on the front of my legs while meanwhile, I was trying to remain upright and move in a forward motion. Not to mention that we had spent the last stretch of the bike ride going all out, so I was exhausted before my feet even hit the ground. But running after the bike ride was exactly what I needed to do...since it'll be exactly what I'll need to do 35 days from now...

Today, we went for another ride. This time we went farther and were riding for about 2 hours. I am not even sure exactly where we were the entire time, but there were a lot of hills. A lot of BIG hills. As my brother was quick to remind me, it was perfect for training- exactly what I wanted. And he was right. But holy cow, I am the most exhausted girl on the planet right now. I think if, towards the end of the ride, a crazed madman had jumped out of the woods wielding a knife, I wouldn't have been able to move fast enough to get away from him. By the time we got back to the house, I had used nearly every bit of energy that I had. Which is, as odd as it sounds, a great feeling. And now, I can lie here and feel okay about being lazy and consuming a few extra calories. Because I totally earned it.

Beyond words

2009-06-15T22:06:00.003-04:00

Let me start by saying that there are few times in my life where I really feel like I don't know the words to use to describe something. At worst, I can usually string together a passable description of what I think or feel, or what I've seen or done. At best, I can write something that feels perfect even to me, my own harshest critic. At this moment I'd love to do nothing more than find the most flawless and exact words. And although I already know I'm going to fall short, it won't stop my attempt.

I write because there are always words in my head. And I decided to write here, in particular, not only because I needed an outlet, but because I needed a record. I knew that I was at the start of quite a transformation in my life, and I needed to not just live it but write it, too. Every single word I write and letter I type is straight from my heart. I hide nothing, I share everything; it's just how I am.

Along the way I have been blessed to find that my closest friends, my family and even strangers love to read what I write. Nearly 600 people from 25 countries have read my words. I've received so many kind comments on my posts, so many words of encouragement, of understanding, of support. It's been incredible.

But nothing has even come close to being as incredible as Saturday night, when I learned that the things I've gone through, the path I'm taking, the words I've written have truly been an inspiration for someone else. And I learned this in possibly the most perfect way imaginable. Actually, I take that back. It was unimaginable, even for me, who imagines everything. Every detail of what happened was extremely touching. The gesture in and of itself made me realize how much I was understood, and how much my words and outlook had made an impact. I could never have imagined a moment like that. It was one of the most sincere and beautiful things anyone has ever done for me. Ever.

Although it was a public gesture, it was also a private gesture, and in a room full of people only a handful really knew what happened and how much it meant, which made it even more wonderful. And that's why, in contrast to my usual style, I don't want to go into detail here. Maybe some moments can't be described, some things can't be explained. And maybe, sometimes, even for me... they don't need to be.

It's beyond words. Thank you.

Countdown Breakdown

2009-06-11T21:43:00.003-04:00

Saturday might possibly be my last 5K before the tri. Although I knew that, it suddenly occurred to me that that means I want it to go really, really well so that I'm as confident as possible about my progress and my potential. Although this means a slightly unnecessary increase in the pressure I feel to do well on Saturday, I am the queen of self-induced pressure. So that works out alright.

And even though every time I run in a race I want to do better than the time before, this time I feel like there's a little more at stake. With only 44 days until the tri, I fluctuate daily, sometimes hourly, between feeling confident and excited (like when I realize I’ve biked 30 miles and finish feeling like a freakin’ rock star) to feeling overwhelmed and underprepared (like when I am lifting weights at the gym and need to reduce the weight to the lightest possible...eek, I’m such a girl).

To compound this, I will be in Mexico in the beginning of July- I get back and there's a week and a half until the triathlon. While I fully plan on training while I'm in Mexico, I know that margaritas and lying on the beach will be a bigger draw, and those few days in Mexico will be a test of my willpower and determination. Not to mention that I want to be at my goal weight on triathlon day, which is currently 7.6 pounds away. With the tri being about 6 weeks away, I’ll have to lose about 1.3 pounds per week in order to make it. Did I mention how much I love Mexican food and margaritas? I usually like to live by the rule that there are no such thing as calories when you’re on vacation, but I don’t think I can afford that kind of logic this time. Again: unnecessary pressure, but pressure I will put on myself regardless.

Ok, so it's obvious that what’s happening here is that I’m allowing myself to stop and think too much, something I haven’t allowed myself to do lately because of its disastrous side effects. Believe me, not thinking much (for me) is much better than thinking like I normally do because a normal amount of thinking is an insane amount of thinking, to be honest. See how it started with thinking about the simple fact that this could be my last 5K before the tri and snowballed from there? Yeah. That’s nothing compared to what my thought process can be. Sometimes I exhaust myself. And what I've learned lately is that I really don't know as much as I think I do. I always think I have it all figured out, or that I could figure it out, if I think about it enough. This long-held belief of mine, however, is bullshit. It's funny to realize that you don't have things as figured out as you thought you did, and to be okay with that.

So I just headed to the gym right after work, where I hopped on the treadmill and don't remember a single thing I thought about the whole time. Besides "How many minutes do I have left on this thing?!?", of course.

Seven down!

2009-06-08T17:45:00.002-04:00

I finished my seventh 5K on Saturday. I can't believe I've done seven since March. Seven! I remember when Audrey first suggested we run a 5K to prepare for the tri; I think I simultaneously wanted to laugh, throw up and cry. To be honest, there's still a point during almost every race where I want to throw up and cry. But since the first one I've been doing them of my own free will. And liking it! Who would have thought?

And I'm glad I like it, because I know it's really helped me lose weight and prepare for the triathlon. And those are two things that have really shaped nearly everything I've done and every decision I've made since January. My focus is so much on the end goal that I don't really take the time to stop and look around to really see where I am, which is 25 pounds lighter and maybe a little bit of an athlete. Actually, scratch that, maybe I'm just a little bit of a runner, not an athlete. As my brother was quick to point out this weekend, I still cannot throw a baseball worth a damn (once, about 5 feet to the right of my dad and the next time, almost directly down to the
ground. I do not know what is wrong with me). I cannot wait to celebrate everything I've achieved, but aside from a mini-shopping spree with my mom once my clothes became too big to to wear, I'm not willing to celebrate yet. As I've mentioned, I'm afraid of losing my focus or getting too proud of what I've accomplished and having that turn into a little bit of laziness. I have, as of this moment, 47 days, 18 hours, 2 minutes and 51 seconds of hard work ahead of me, and I'm not going to truly relax until the triathlon is over.

But you better believe there will be a killer celebration once it is.

Piece of cake

2009-05-28T20:14:00.002-04:00

Here's one thing I've realized about weight loss: It's simple. Now, before an angry ban of women bearing food scales and dumbbells as weapons shows up at my door ready for a brawl, let me explain myself.

For starters please note that I didn't say it was easy. I said it was simple. People try to complicate it all the time, and they do that quite well. They subscribe to the mentality that you’ve gotta eat low carb/high protein, or that you should replace a meal with a shake, or that you have to eat only tofu and bean sprouts when you hate tofu and bean sprouts, or that you need to order the food that some plan tells you you need to eat. And maybe sometimes those things do work, but it’s complicated and leaves little room for anyone to keep it up. Once you’ve lost the weight, what do you do? Avoid carbs for life? Continue buying their food? And what have you learned?

That’s the complicated part that makes people think that they can’t do it. But that’s just noise. Here’s the simple part: Eat less. Think more. Move more. Lose weight.

I know half the people who just read that are thinking it’s oversimplified bullshit. I’d encourage you to give it a second thought, though. It really is that simple.

Eat less— you probably don’t realize what a serving size is, or how much you are truly consuming in the course of the day. You need to burn more calories than you eat in order to lose weight. Are you making that possible for yourself?

Think more about the choices you make— food is fuel for your body. What is your body running on?

Move more— getting in shape is not going to happen overnight, so just get going. It’s not an all or nothing deal— you don’t have to run a marathon tomorrow. Start small if that’s what you’re comfortable with. Nike has had it right all along. Just do it. Whatever it is.

And then, lose weight.

And this is why it’s simple but not easy. If it was easy to do all this, and to lose weight as a result, then we’d all be wearing a size 2 and one-piece bathing suits wouldn’t exist. Over the past few months I’ve lost weight some weeks only to gain part of it back the next- with no discernable difference in what I’m eating or how much I’m exercising. It’s frustrating, and some days I’ve wanted to tear my hair out. So I’m not gonna say that it will always work out exactly the way you want it too. But guess what? Keep it up, and over time your body cannot deny you the weight loss.

Don’t expect yourself to be perfect, because you won’t be, and that’s just setting yourself up for failure in your own eyes. Don’t expect it to happen overnight, because it won’t; it took you a while to gain weight, so it’s going to take you a while to lose it. Don’t make excuses for yourself— you’ll always be busy and you’ll always have obstacles— but you can always make time for something you consider a priority... aren’t you a priority to you? And don’t expect it to be easy, because it will always be a struggle, although the struggle will diminish over time. If it still feels complicated, then make it feel uncomplicated. Focus on what it really boils down too, and I think you’ll find that all that’s left is truly quite simple.

Biker chick

2009-05-26T22:07:00.005-04:00

I woke up yesterday with a massive headache, having also gone to sleep with that same headache the night before. For starters, this is totally unfair; I think 8 hours of sleep should be enough to kiss any headache goodbye. But that was unfortunately not so for me yesterday. My original plan was to get up and get out on my bike yesterday morning. But waking up feeling crummy left me feeling blah overall, which was the perfect excuse for a little Memorial Day-laziness. I could not find my motivation to get out of bed, let alone to get onto a bike. I procrastinated by letting myself stay in bed until 10-- I have not done this in FOREVER! And that made it all the more wonderful- hooray for lazy mornings! Then I got up, showered, did some grocery shopping and had lunch. At this point I had spent too much time trying to find an excuse that I could fool myself with that would get me out of getting on the bike.

I don't know why I didn't want to do it, I just didn't. But I couldn't, and wouldn't, fool myself. There was no denying it. I was going out on that bike. I had planned to do it, so therefore I had nothing else to do- no excuse there. By this point I felt fine- again, no excuse. I had a helmet and I had a bike. There were no excuses.

And I am certainly glad that I found my motivation, because it was a wonderful ride. I was glad to find that riding a bike was like, well, riding a bike. There's a great trail that runs through my town that's perfect for running and biking (no hills!). It runs through the woods, so besides being really pretty it's also shaded by all the trees, making yesterday's bright sun less of a concern for someone like me, who forgot that sunscreen is generally a good idea when you're going to be outside. It was a gorgeous day and I felt dorkily happy to be a part of it.

I looked at the trail map when I got back home, and I figured out that I probably rode around 30 miles. I was pretty happy with that, and feeling pretty kick-ass since the triathlon is 12 miles of biking, and I did the 30 with no problem. Which just goes to show you how different biking and running are, because if I had tried to run 30 miles, I would still be out there trying to finish. Scratch that, I'd be out there on the path in a ball, rocking back and forth, sucking my thumb and trying to remember my own name. The other great thing about biking is that you automatically generate a pretty nice breeze for yourself, which is quite handy on hot days. In running, forget it. If it's hot you are going to feel like you swallowed molten lava and you might as well get used to it. The thing biking really doesn't have going for it is the bug situation. I must have been in a hit-and-run with dozens of bugs that just did not know to stay out of my way. A few unsuspecting ones went in my mouth (gross) and one poor thing even found its way up my nose for a second (double gross).

Bugs aside, I am really glad I have my first bike ride (meaning, my first tri-training bike ride--my first bike ride in at least a decade) under my belt. As May draws to a close and June appears, I'm hit with the realization that July is not that far away. The triathlon, once a distant event, is now starting to appear on the horizon. The good news is that I feel more ready for it than ever.

Woohoo!

2009-05-20T22:05:00.003-04:00

These past two weeks have been filled with quite a few meaningful accomplishments, which has been just the boost I need. Sometimes over the past few weeks I've felt my headstrong, unwavering, go-hard-or-go-home attitude begin to waver slightly and it freaks me out. I don't want to lose that drive. Then I think about what I've accomplished, and I realize that I'm crazy- I'm not losing my drive at all; maybe I'm just relaxing it's grip on me a little bit.

Way back in December, when I first started Weight Watchers, I set my first weight-loss goal. I wanted to be a certain weight by May 1st. To be honest it was an arbitrary date and an arbitrary weight, except for that back then I thought it sounded like the beginning of summer and summer is a good time to be feeling thinner, and it was about a pound a week, which was realistic. Now, me being me, I don't just set a goal and forget it. This goal was on my mind every day. Even if I wasn't thinking "May 1st" I was thinking of what weight I needed to be at the next week in order to be on track for May 1st. My rollercoaster-like weight loss patterns sometimes made me think I'd be derailed somewhere along the way. But, gosh darn it, if I didn't make it then I was going to be as close as humanly possible, and I wasn't going to allow myself to be standing on the scale on May 1st thinking "Well if I hadn't had that cake/pizza/ice cream/Coca-Cola/french fries, I would have made it. If I hadn't skipped the gym/layed on the couch all day/slept in/been so lazy, I would have made it." Helllllllz no. I was beyond determined to prove to myself that I could do this; that willpower and persistence would be my keys to success. The struggle of weight loss (and no matter how much willpower and persistence you have, it is definitely a struggle) you play a constant numbers game: I ate 7 points at lunch. I ran 2 miles. I was at the gym for 60 minutes. I worked out 5 days this week. Count your points, measure your portions, time your pace. All those numbers were worth it when, on May 1st, I got on the scale and saw the exact number I wanted to see. I met my May 1st goal!

The following week was my next 5k. It was by far the largest race Lola and I have run in so far (more than 5,000 people total) which was very cool. For some reason, this was also the first race where I wasn't very nervous at the starting line. The course was great- not too hilly, yet not too flat and boring. It was through neighborhoods and the people were very excited to see the runners come through, lots of them were out on their porches cheering or blasting music. I finished mile 1 in 9:53. That was the fastest I have ever run a mile. It was also the first time during a race that I ran the entire mile without stopping. And I knew I could keep going. I ran straight through mile 2 and into 3. Shortly into 3 I had to stop, but I was okay with that. It was still the best I have ever run- race or not. And, adding to the triumph of the day, I crossed the finish line at 33:43-- my best time yet by more than 30 seconds. It was a great, great feeling.

Tonight's accomplishment was smaller but still significant. I went swimming! Phew! I've been so nervous about the fact that I haven't started training for the swim, so it felt great to finally get in the water. And I was lucky enough to have Audrey as my swim coach. She went to a swim clinic a few weekends ago, and learned lots of helpful hints that she passed along to me after analyzing my technique (or lack thereof). I am hugely thankful for that, because when I first got in the water and realized the things I was doing wrong, I was slightly freaked out that the triathlon swim might mean my demise. As with running, it's the breathing I have a problem with-- but it's even harder to think about breathing while you're swimming because there truly are some less-opportune times to take a breath (i.e., when your face is in the water). But by the time I got out of that pool I had improved quite a bit (again, thanks to Audrey!) and felt much better about swimming. I probably would have felt even better if I hadn't forgotten to bring a towel with me and didn't have to dry off with Audrey's extra sweatshirt and some paper towels. I am not joking; I was in a situation where drying my body with a sweatshirt was the best option available. And Audrey is teeny, so her sweatshirt was not very big and I didn't have very much material to work with. Although it was surprisngly absorbent. Still, forgetting a towel when you're going swimming is like forgetting socks when you're going running (meaning it's a completely doofus move). Even though drying off with a sweatshirt is not the greatest, thank goodness for Audrey and her sweatshirt. I absolutely HATE getting dressed if my body has even a drop of water still on it, so this was quite particularly torturous for me, but what would I have done if she wasn't there? Answer: I would still be there, trying to get dry so I could put my clothes on and go home.

Ain't no mountain high enough

2009-05-04T20:57:00.010-04:00

It’s funny when I think of how my idea of a great weekend has changed over the last few months. Forget bars, forget late nights, forget sleeping in. Cue early morning runs, hours at the gym and 5Ks. This past weekend was a weekend without a race. So instead of running, I climbed a mountain.

Now, when my friend P told me about this mountain he was very clear that it was a big, big mountain. I was excited. When we turned the corner and he pointed in the distance to the mountain it still seemed HUGE to me, even though I had been prepared for how huge it was, and I laughed. It just struck me as amusing that this was a really big mountain and we were about to climb it.
But still, even after realizing that this mountain was a beast, I was picturing a hike on a quiet dirt trail created for people like us who think nice hikes are a perfect way to spend a Saturday. Maybe a babbling brook or two, even. A scenic little path in the woods. I didn't even realize that I had this vision in my head until I saw the actual "path" and it looked like this:

Yes, that is a picture of the trail we were following. Can't see the trail, you say? Why that is because no element of nature was disturbed in the creation of this trail. Someone just went around with some white spray paint and randomly decided the least-lethal way for people like us to get up the mountain and back down again.

But, honestly, this didn't scare me. Bring it, Mt. Monadnock. I was totally up for it, and this ass whooping in the making was looking like a gorgeous little Saturday. While I've given myself over to the fact that I like running and like going to the gym, I have to say that there's something much more wonderful about exercising with nature as your backdrop and friends by your side. It feels less like exercise, and more like fun. And while I get pretty pumped when I run, the feeling of reaching the top of a mountain definitely wins, hands down. The sight of the finish line sometimes makes me want to cry, but the sight from the top of the mountain took my breath away...or maybe it was just the hike to get there that took my breath away...In any case, it was spectacular.

What occurred to me was that six months ago, while I would have been able to do this, I wouldn't have been able to do this well. I was beating P's ass up that mountain, something he had predicted but I wasn't so sure of. Realizing how capable I was of climbing that mountain was a great feeling. At one point during the hike up, P said "You seem like an athlete right now. You were definitely never an athlete in high school, but you're one right now." That made me smile. Having known me since we were 12, he knows as well as I do that "athlete" is for sure a word that has never, ever, ever been used to describe me during the first 26 years of my life. Neither was "thin", another adjective he used to describe me that morning. Both these things are just nice to hear. I know I'm at a point right now where my vision of myself hasn't quite caught up to the present. While I'm learning to graciously accept a compliment, my first reaction is to think that people are just being nice- I'm not actually athletic; I'm not actually thin. I don't know why this is my reaction, it just is. Except that P, probably more than most people I know, is not the type to say something he doesn't mean just to be nice. He's also well-qualified to know when I look good, having seen me at my best (all dolled up for prom, graduation, weddings and such) and at my worst (pjs, ponytail, glasses, no makeup and a tear-streaked face, drinking too much wine and crying over some stupid boy). I gave him honorary Bumble Bee status for the day--no, not just because he called me thin-- but because we had fun while totally kicking some butt and flying up and down that mountain like rock stars. Or, like bumble bees.

I'll admit that going down wasn't as smooth as going up. Actually it was a little nerve-wracking at some points. I think I said "Omigosh I almost just died" approximately 15 times after tripping/slipping/sliding on the rocks. We did get slightly off track for about a minute and would still be lost on that mountain and resorting to smoke signals to ensure our rescue if we followed my sense of direction and not his. Oh, and my nose was running like crazy and I had to give in and "borrow" his handkerchief after staunchly refusing to blow a snot rocket (I might be climbing a mountain but I'm still a girl). But it was a fabulous kind of nerve-wracking, off-track, nose-blowing experience. We weren't even back to the car before we were planning the route we would take next time, on another, new-kind-of-perfect Saturday.

Scorching sun, a phantom river and an old guy

2009-04-27T21:09:00.004-04:00

Yesterday's 5K was not as much fun as I'd hoped.

Let me explain why. First, I had to learn the hard way that running in 90-degree weather is not fun. In fact, I have to say that it would accurately be described as horrible. Yes, I know that the triathlon is in July and therefore I need to get used to the heat, but this was my first experience running in a temperature above 60 degrees and it was not pretty. There was no shade on this course at all and the race started at 1pm, so the full force of the sun was beating down on us. I spent a minute or two pondering the possibilities of spontaneous combustion, which oddly enough was a nice distraction. Thank goodness that nearly a dozen kind souls had set up sprinklers at the edge of their lawns for us runners to run through. One woman was even standing outside with a hose, and it felt like heaven. I said thank you to every single one of those people and might have even professed my undying love to a few of them.

Second, this is a run with the word "River" in its name, and a course description that says it is "run completely along the Connecticut River". So I don't think I was insane to have been envisioning myself sprinting along a path right next to the river. Right next to the river meaning a few yards away, where the view would be oh-so-pretty and perhaps a cool breeze might even lighten the burden of the race. But I just have a good imagination. This course could be considered "along" the river only if you were drunk, had no concept of distance, and are the type of person who constantly says "the other day" when you are referring to something that happened 20 years ago. For most of this course you cannot even see the river, and when you do it is easily seven football fields away and seems more like the mirage of a desperate crazy person than it does an actual body of water.

Third, besides finishing with a totally not impressive time of 37:48, I got my ass whooped by a 95-year-old man. I'd seen him before the race started and he was somewhere behind me the entire way, until the end. You see, this wonderful course ended in a steep hill, and this hill totally chewed me up and spit me out. Meanwhile, my elderly friend was gaining on me, and passed me towards the top. At this point I could barely breathe and felt like I was running sideways through quicksand while wearing footwear made of concrete, but still the thought in my head changed from "Just finish the race" to "You cannot let this old man beat you." I tried to light a fire under my own ass but all I had left in me was a small flame, and he crossed the finish line an entire 9 seconds before me. I'm awed and super impressed by this guy, but....I ran a time a solid three minutes above what I was shooting for and got beat by a man nearly four times my age, so I have to say I spent the first few seconds after the race feeling a little lame. Then I realized the torture was over and finishing is always something to celebrate. My fourth 5k. Not too shabby. I don't like to compare myself to anyone anyway!

But, as always happens post-race, the high wears off by the time I get home and I inevitably end up crashing like a limp ragdoll onto the couch/floor/bed. See, I'm always really good about making sure that I have some good pre-race food around to fuel me. Somehow, though, I always seem to forget about after the race, and end up lying around going, "Ehhhhhhh......I'm hungryyyyy.....and thirrrrrrrrsty......why don't I have any fooooooodddd.... why doesn't somebody bring me somethinggggg?!?!" until I realize that I live alone and no one is around to hear my calls of despair.

So on Sunday, after dragging myself off the couch and making myself a functional and productive human being again, I allowed myself back on the couch to relax later in the evening. After lying still for way too long, I turned onto my back and stretched out my cramped legs, only to hear a gross cracking noise in my left knee. Unfortunately this noise was accompanied by a minor but annoying amount of pain. My knee is still sore today, and if it's not better by Wednesday I might be forced to head to the doctor for peace of mind. For now, besides the practical remedies of a little bit of rest, ice and Advil, I'm doing my best to will the pain away. Mind over matter. Because, seriously, how is it that I can run four 5Ks in a month and a half, be at the gym nearly every day, and then get injured lying on the couch?!

"Rolling hills" actually means "Be afraid. Be very afraid."

2009-04-23T22:30:00.003-04:00

I finished another 5k on Saturday! Audrey, Lola and I ran this one--it was a gorgeous day: blue sky, sunny, warm.

The course, however, was not so fabulous. There were at least 3 HUGE hills (described as "rolling hills" in the course description, which was a big, fat, evil lie)- every time we turned a corner there was another one looming ahead. The second time we came to one I said "You've got to be kidding me." out loud. The third time I just laughed. They weren't just hills, they were small mountains, and they just kept on coming. Besides the fact that we had to deal with the mountainous hills, this was an open course. Completely open course. Meaning, as concerned as I was about making it up the hill, I was more concerned about not getting hit by one of the many cars driving towards me. At one point we were on a main route of the town, and my poor running skills were causing some poor soul in a Prius a delay in getting into the Dunkin Donuts parking lot. I felt very badly that my slow pace as I trudged across the DD driveway was keeping someone from their coffee a few seconds longer. You never know what might happen when you come between a coffee freak and their morning cup; I know I might be tempted to hit a runner if one was keeping me from my coffee on a Saturday morning.

But at the same time as I felt bad for the residents of this poor town, I also thought it was totally crummy that I had to come between a stranger and their coffee in the first place. As far as I'm concerned, races should be run on a closed or at least partially-closed course. There's enough to think about when running a race, I really don't appreciate having to add "being struck by an automobile" to the list. Also as far as I'm concerned, races should not involve significant hills; even running downhill isn't as easy as it seems, so let's just keep them out of races altogether, shall we?

I blame the hills for my 34:38 time, but I know that without them I would have done even better, which is encouraging. Audrey came in right ahead of me and Lola right behind me. We totally kicked those hills' asses while dodging traffic and keeping a good pace, but none of us will ever run this particular race again!

The Climb

2009-04-14T18:02:00.005-04:00

My second 5K was on Saturday-- I finished in 34:37, beating my first 5K time by 4.5 minutes. No wardrobe malfunctions, I wasn't last, and despite being overcast, windy and cold, the rain held off until the afternoon. All in all, it was a good day.

In fact, it was a really good day. I know it's a little cheesy, but since I don't have an amusing tale of my athletic dysfunction to tell and I don't mind being cheesy, I have to say that when I neared the end of the race and realized that I was going to finish somewhere around 34 minutes, I almost started to cry. This is mostly Miley Cyrus' fault.

Before I explain about Miley, I have to explain that running is an emotional thing for me in general, for many reasons. It's an amazing feeling to realize what you can accomplish if you put your mind to it. Never has the expression "mind over matter" seemed more real to me. If you count yourself out, then guess what? You don't stand much of a chance. But if you count yourself in, each and every day and no matter what, then you have a damn good shot at anything. I considered myself one of the most improbable runners imaginable- and to be honest I still do to some extent. But at the same time, I haven't let the fact that I don’t feel like a runner get in the way of trying to become one. Every single finish line I cross is a huge victory, regardless of what my time is. Of course, I can't lie-- the faster the better. Running makes me emotional because for me running isn't just running (although, I wonder if running is just running for anyone). It's a transformation of myself into the me I want to be. Ok, that takes the "cheesiest statement ever" award, I know, but it's true. Six months ago I was quite unhappy, lonely, bored, restless and oh yeah, 20 pounds heavier. Things weren't exactly going my way, and I was focusing all my energy on that negativity without even entirely realizing it. Now I've taken that same energy and channeled it into something that makes me feel happy, excited and strong. Nothing around me changed-- I changed. And that brings me to Miley.

When I first heard the song "The Climb", I did not know who sang it, and to be honest was a little disappointed when I found out it was Miley Cyrus, cause I liked the song a lot- but Miley, not so much (it took lots of explanation for me to understand the Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus thing and I haven't gotten over it. Also, I still don't get it). And here’s another instance where I’ve gravitated towards something meant for girls under the age of 16- what is wrong with me?! But ultimately I don’t care, because Miley’s song inspires me like none other. I think homegirl tapped into my brain to write these lyrics.

When she starts out singing “I can almost see it/That dream I am dreaming/But there's a voice inside my head saying/ ‘You'll never reach it’/Every step I'm taking/Every move I make feels/Lost with no direction/ My faith is shaking”, well, that was me a few months ago.

So imagine how emotional I get when, as I’m coming up to the finish line of Saturday’s race this very song starts playing on my iPod and my girl Miley is belting out “But I gotta keep trying/Gotta keep my head held high/ There's always gonna be another mountain/ I'm always gonna wanna make it move/ Always gonna be a uphill battle/ Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose/ Ain't about how fast I get there/ Ain't about what's waiting on the other side/ It's the climb /The struggles I'm facing/ The chances I'm taking/Sometimes might knock me down/But no, I'm not breaking/I may not know it/But these are the moments that/I'm gonna remember most, yeah/Just gotta keep going/And I, I got to be strong/Just keep pushing on." I'm sure that my near tears status is easy to understand, no? Because, as much as I hate to admit that a Disney star has written a song that touches my soul, uh, well....she has. Listen to it. Miley is right. It's what I've been saying all along, but in a top 40 hit kind of way. It's not always going to be easy, I'm not always going to get what I want, but I'll be damned if I'm not going to try my hardest and be strong every step of the way. Who knows what's waiting for me once the triathlon is done- it doesn't matter. What matters is the journey to get there.

Helmets. Ick.

2009-04-13T20:55:00.005-04:00

I am getting ever so slightly concerned about the fact that I haven't started biking or swimming yet. Bike's still leaning against the kitchen table, swimsuit's still sitting on top of my dresser. But in my own defense, I did attempt to look for a bike helmet on Friday. I wanted something plain, maybe black or silver- nothing crazy or fancy, nothing that made me look like Sonic the Hedgehog. I brought along my friends Callie and Wayne, because I knew I could not be left to my own devices when shopping for a helmet.

For starters, and this is something I'm quite honest about, I'm a huge goober. Serious dork. I knew helmet shopping would be funny, and if I was by myself I would be laughing at myself A LOT. Even if I was alone. So I'd rather have my friends laughing at me, too. Also, I needed someone there to remind me that a helmet wasn't going to make me look beautiful or win me first place in a fashion show, that the helmet is solely for protection of the head- period, end of story.

So, with their help, I tried on every. single. helmet. In the whole entire store. And I swear to you, none of them fit right. Most of them sat on top of my head leaving so much of my skull exposed that it didn't seem it could possibly be helpful should I take a tumble. Now, granted, none of us knew what we were looking for really, or how it was supposed to fit. But it just didn't seem right. I was even starting to become open to the idea of a helmet that wasn't plain and didn't match my bike or my tri outfit. Anything to get the process over with. I was laughing so much that I was getting extraordinarily hot. Callie was plunking the helmets on my head and I was standing there like a child while she adjusted the straps to fit me. Wayne seized the moment to hit me upside the head- just to be sure the helmet was sufficiently sturdy, I'm sure.

Then, just as we were about to give up, I tried one on that seemed to fit. The best part was that the helmet was white with pink and purple butterflies in a kind of abstract way. Pretty but subtle enough. And it fit. Score! Despite the fact that I had no intentions of getting a girly helmet, the helmet had found me, and I couldn't deny that we seemed meant to be.

So, helmet shopping complete, we continued to browse the store for workout gear and sports bras (yeah, Wayne must have been totally stoked about this shopping trip). Suddenly I looked down at the helmet box I was carrying, and one word stuck out at me. And that word was "Youth". It was a youth helmet. As in, for youths. As in, a 26-year-old triathlete-in-training has no business wearing this kind of helmet. Shit. Now I feel stupid because a) it's a freaking youth helmet with pink and purple butterflies and I'm kinda lame for liking it. Why don't I just get a Hannah Montana helmet and call it a day? and b) I know now that there is no way this helmet fits me properly because I know I have a big head, and certainly not a youth helmet sized head by any means.

Knowing that there is no way on earth I can purchase this helmet (both for safety and ego reasons), we decided I should definitely go to a bike store and get someone to help me- someone who knows what they're doing. I'll still need the moral support, but at least there will be a qualified professional there to help me find the right helmet, and probably stare at me oddly while I laugh at myself. So I put the helmet back on the shelf and left without it, imagining the 9-year-old girl who will be wearing it someday as she pedals to her friend's house to read Teen Beat magazine and gossip about boys.

Bye-bye Bubblemint

2009-04-08T20:02:00.003-04:00

I have a race on Saturday, and it's supposed to rain. While I don't mind rain in general, and I know that April showers bring May flowers, I'm not too excited about the fact that April showers might also bring me a slower race time and maybe even a slippery surface-induced face plant. While (knock on wood) I have avoided athletic-related injuries thus far, it seems that I have incurred my first diet-related injury. Yeah, bet you didn't even know that was possible.

Monday morning I woke up with what I thought was an earache. It hurt by my ear but also down into my jaw. It hurt to chew and was making me a little miserable. So, when I got to work yesterday morning with the "earache" still there, I called the doctor and made an appointment for late in the afternoon. In the meantime, I avoided chewing as much as possible (although
a girl still has to eat lunch!) and contemplated the possible reasons for my pain. Ear infection? Maybe, I'm really prone to them, but this didn't feel like any ear infection I've ever had. iPod ear bud-related injury? I don't really listen to my music that loud when I'm running, but you never know. Sinus problems? Dental problems? I wasn't sure, I just knew it was driving me crazy and I wanted it to go away.

And as it turns out, it was none of that. It's an issue with my temporomandibular joint. I'm saying that first so it sounds fancy and I feel less like a goober. Because essentially what it translates to is pain in my jaw. And this pain in my jaw is due to chewing too much gum.

I'm not joking. And I have to be honest, I didn't really know this was possible. I have been chewing A LOT of gum lately; it's my #1 defense against snack attacks. I never imagined that I was doing myself harm and inducing an injury. Now that I know this, I'm pretty sure gum should come with a warning label: "Dieters beware! Chewing in excess may cause temporary temporomandibular joint pain and unnecessary doctors visits."

To top it off, gum is now haunting me. Right after the doctor I went to the drugstore to get Aleve. While ringing up my items (I swear, I couldn't even make this up) the woman looked at me and said "Can I interest you in some new flavors of gum?". Since when did the people at Walgreens recommend you anything?! I think this was some kind of cosmic joke, which continued at
WW when the girl next to me turned to me and said "Want a piece of gum?" and when I got home and a friend texted me and said "I'm watching The Biggest Loser and it's making crave Extra gum and Cheerios." I had to laugh every time.

Then of course, since I had to leave work early yesterday and many of my co-workers knew about my "ear" pain, I had to explain a few times today that it was not my ear, and that I am indeed the biggest weirdo on the planet because I incurred my injury from a piece of Orbit Bubblemint. Or actually, a few too many pieces of Orbit Bubblemint.

And now, I have to be gum-free for the next 7-10 days and chew sparingly in the future. I am sad about the temporary loss of my boredom-busting, snack-stopping, perfectly-flavored friend. Bubblemint, the pain was worth it. And I will miss you dearly.

Running Away

2009-04-05T20:15:00.002-04:00

It's Sunday night around 8pm, and that means my last weekend to relax during the month of April is drawing to a close. I have a 5k each of the next 3 weekends. I do not know for sure what I was thinking, but I'll tell you that these things always seem like much better ideas the farther away they are, and therefore seem like the worst idea anyone's ever had, ever, once I'm 5 minutes into a race.

I think, to be honest, the busier I am with this training stuff, the more I forget about, well, everything else. And that is exactly how I like it. While my motivation hasn't slowed a single bit, I've kind of been feeling like I lost that intense drive and focus I had for weeks. While that might be kind of a good thing (that level of intensity was leaving me bone tired, sleep deprived and unable to lose a single ounce), I'd like to get some of it back. I found myself headed to the gym on Wednesday night at 9:00, not because I physically felt like I needed to go, but because mentally I felt like I needed to go. I made a joke this week to one of my friends about running from my problems (haha, get it?), but sometimes I think it's more true than I'd like to admit- I need to be moving, just so there's no time to stop and think.

But to be honest, I think it's a sensational solution to escape what's bugging me. These first 4 months of 2009 have been leaps and bounds better than the last 4 months of 2008, so I'd like to think I'm on the right track (get it, track? leaps and bounds? gee, I'm so witty today, and I swear I didn't do it on purpose). And I know that I have lots of other things to focus on- hello, bicycle that's still leaning against my kitchen table and new training bathing suit with the tags still on- and that should be sufficient enough to get me going in high gear again. Sometimes I know I'm too hard on myself. Sometimes I wish I wasn't. But there is no time when I have been able to figure out how not to be.

I'd like to thank the Academy!

2009-03-30T14:14:00.006-04:00

I'm taking a little time out from your regularly scheduled programming to let you know that Dani from "A Daily Dose of Dani" has given me the Kreativ Blogger Award. How awesome! :) Thanks, Dani!

The rules of the Kreativ Blogger Award are as follows:
1. Post the award on your blog, and link to the person who gave you the award.
2. List seven things you love.
3. List seven blogs you love.
4. E-mail or comment on those blogs to let the people know you've given them the award.

So, here goes!
Seven things I love (in no particular order):
1. Love. Yes, I love love. It's the best stuff on earth.
2. A good book- usually nothing can make me as content as curling up with a book and reading for hours.
3. Training for this triathlon. It's tiring, at times painful, and is consuming my life, but it makes me happy.
4. Coffee. Nothing starts my morning as beautifully as a quick stop at DunkinDonuts for a large Toasted Almond, skim milk 1 Splenda :)
5. Sunshine. I miss the feeling of the warm sun on my face. Come on, spring, let's kick it up a notch!
6. My family and friends, for loving me, believing in me, and being infinitely supportive of me--in all aspects of my life. And for being absolutely fabulous.
7. Road trips. Even just taking the long way home makes me happy.

Seven blogs I love:
1. SPITSisters For those of you who haven't been keeping up with this wonderfully written young adult novel in blog form, you've been missing out. While it might be geared towards younger audiences, believe me you will find so much that you identify with, you'll be eagerly awaiting each new update!
2. Super Fat Super Chick Aimee's weight loss journey is so honest and real that you can identify no matter how much weight you want to lose.
3. A Shirt That Races Such a fun, awesome idea.
4. Operation Skinny Bitch Because losing weight isn't easy- and everyone could use a little extra support!
5. Your Ill-Fitting Overcoat Beautifully written and beautifully honest
6. Two Birds One Blog Always witty, always funny, I love love love this blog
7. Surviving Myself Again, another one that makes me laugh out loud. I love it even though he dislikes those who walk on treadmills, and, alas, I am one of those people. But I don't care- I love it anyway.

Not waving but drowning

2009-03-29T22:27:00.003-04:00

I got the bike from Audrey today. For now, it is in my kitchen resting against my kitchen table (which I never use anyway), but I can't wait to ride it. April is almost here and I definitely need to broaden my focus, which up until now has mostly been on running. Biking, I figured, would be next. I was all settled with this idea of expanding my focus one thing at a time until a conversation with my mother on Saturday.

"Have you figured out where you're going to practice swimming yet?" my mom asked. "Uhhhh...no" I replied. I hate remembering that I haven't figured this out yet, because I know that I need to. It's just never made it's way up to the top of my radar screen for long enough to actually work out a solution. "Well, you should figure out what you're going to do. I'm most nervous about the swim part of this" she says. This is news to me. My mom is not the type to be unnecessarily nervous, and I have been feeling most comfortable with the swim part. Correction: I had been feeling most comfortable with the swim, until this very moment. Something you need to know about my mom is that she is never wrong. Ever. If she is worried, then she has a reason. And if she has a reason, well then that reason is right, whether you want it to be or not. "But swim is first..." is the only argument I can come back with. Weak response, I admit--the fact that swimming will be the first leg of the race does not speak to my ability to make it through. "I know, but with everything else you're on land. If you get tired or hurt you can rest. But when you're swimming you're in the water, it's not the same. You've always been a strong swimmer, but I don't think you've ever done any type of distance swimming in your life. It's different. I'm your mom. I can't help it if I'm worried."

Oh, no. She's right (of course). I tell her that there's "swim angels" in the water during the race, to pull you out should you start to flail about, or to talk to you if you just get a little freaked out. I can tell this makes her feel a little better, but not much. And it doesn't make me feel better at all to use this as my reason why I'll be ok-- I want to be able to happily ignore these swim angel people. I kind of liked the idea of having one aspect of the triathlon that I didn't have to worry as much about, but I realize now that I was fooling myself.

And I think the universe is trying to reinforce this realization, because a friend of mine, without knowing anything about the conversation I had with my mom, sent me a message on Facebook that says "be careful :(" and is followed by a link to an article about how triathlons pose deadly heart risks- particularly due to the swimming portion. The article goes on to describe the stress swimming can put on your heart and how scary it can be to swim with all those people around you. That training by swimming in a pool is not equivalent to training in a lake or river. And how, exactly as my mom said (see, told you she's always right) it's not easy for swimmers to slow down or signal for help and even those posted to watch them might not notice when they're in trouble. I'm reminded of the title of my favorite poem, Stevie Smith's "Not Waving But Drowning". I'm not one to overreact but we all know I'm a compulsive overthinker (and I can't imagine why my friend thought it was good idea to send me this article). This is putting a lump in my throat and I haven't even showered yet- not a good way to start the day.

So. I will try not to obsess about this swimming thing. What I will do is just take from this the understanding that I need to focus on it all equally- run, bike, swim. Just as I didn't want to be the one barely able to put one foot in front of the other during the run, I don't want to be the girl with training wheels and swimmies either. Or the one not waving but drowning.

It's like riding a bike...or is it?

2009-03-24T22:54:00.002-04:00

Something that I've noticed is that I have spent a lot of time thinking, writing and talking about running. And actually running. Yet I am running because of the triathlon. And we all know that "tri" means three, and "athlon", well, I don't know what that means but probably something to do with sports or events or something. How would I know, I'm not Greek, or Roman, or whoever invented the word triathlon (sidenote: I just looked it up and it’s actually French. Guess I’m no historian. But this might come in handy should you ever find yourself on Jeapordy). Anyway, the point is that there are 2 other events that I have yet to put any real focus on. I've been biking at the gym but I'm sure that's not the same, just how running on the treadmill is not the same as actually running outside. And swimming...to date I've been doing exactly no swimming. In fact, I have yet to determine a sufficient solution to the problem that I don't even have a place to swim. I have been joking with my pal Callie that I will be swimming in circles in her above-ground pool all summer long, but it is starting to look like that is not so much of a joke. Since they just moved in last weekend and the pool has not used for quite some time, there are currently polywogs swimming around in it. If they don’t get cleared out in time, maybe I’ll just have to plan on some polywog races this summer.

I’ve been so focused on what I considered my biggest obstacle (running) that I haven’t focused as much on biking and swimming, and therefore don’t really have a clue as to how much of an obstacle these two things will be. Knowing me, there will be some minor technical difficulties to overcome (we all know I seem to have wardrobe issues when it comes to athletics) but besides that, who knows what I’ll be facing. And I guess now that I’ve semi-overcome the terror that running used to inspire in me, it might be a good time to hop onto a bike and see what it has in store for me. I wouldn’t want to get too over confident in my athletic abilities-- adding wheels, chains and handlebars to the mix should be interesting. I’m borrowing my friend Audrey’s bike for the triathlon and training (super big thank you to Audrey!) and I’m just hoping to return it in one piece- meaning I hope that I am in one piece when I return the bike, and hopefully the bike is in one piece, too.

The well-worn phrase “It’s like riding a bike” always pops into my head-- how hard can it be to ride a bike, if everyone refers to something that’s easy to pick up again by using this phrase? But I have a feeling that this saying vastly underestimates my personal hesitation towards a sport that involves a piece of equipment that needs steering and requires me to wear a helmet. This last concern is not solely due to the fact that I’m pretty sure no one looks cute in a helmet. It’s also because any time you have to wear protective gear to avoid brain injury, you should think twice about what you’re doing. But since thinking twice about anything isn't really my style lately, I'm just planning to put on that helmet and start pedaling.

Keeps Getting Better

2009-03-23T22:26:00.003-04:00

When I wrote that I wanted to be crossing more finish lines, I didn't realize that I would cross another one on Saturday. But I did! Instead of going for a Saturday morning run, Lola & I signed up for a local 2-mile race. With the pressure of completing our first race off, and still feeling pretty darn good about our time, neither of us took this one as seriously. Well, we took it seriously, but we weren't a jittery mass of nerves about it. In my mind, we can only get better. It can only get easier (never easy, but easier).

For example, one lesson I learned from my first race is that I ought to be wearing a turtleneck whilst running. I learned this by reviewing my official finish line photos, in which you might not notice that I crossed the finish line, but you certainly would notice that my cleavage crossed the finish line. There are about a dozen completely horrifying photos, and in nearly all of them I look more like a stripper than a runner. The only good thing is that the amount of skin I’m baring makes you notice less the bizarro facial expressions that I’m making. Now, when I was running I did feel my tank top slipping down, and I kept tugging it up, but I had no idea that the situation was as bad as it appeared on camera. The only 3 people who I allowed to see the photos literally howled with laughter. And no, I will not be posting any of those photos here; they really are that embarrassing. Lesson learned: no more tank tops for running. For Saturday’s race I wore a Nike running shirt that went right up to my neck and a Danskin zip up that zipped up to my chin. Not a chance of exposure at all. Which was a good thing, because it was freezing cold on Saturday morning and my cleavage would have ended up with frostbite.

It was so cold, in fact, that I felt like I had swallowed a fireball, which after searing my throat decided to land in my chest and smolder for a while. I literally could not take a full breath the entire time I was running. I have asthma, but just barely, and it makes me feel worse to take my inhaler than not, because it makes me shaky and I hate it. Half that time I forget I even have asthma, because it really doesn’t affect me. Except when I’m running in the cold. At first I couldn’t figure out why I felt so awful. I really didn’t think I was going to be able to run anywhere near as well as I had the weekend prior. Halfway in to the first mile, I was nearly gasping. Prior to starting the race, my confidence had led me to boast to Lola that we would finish in 24 minutes: a 12-minute mile, meaning a 34 second improvement over last weekend. Lola said 25 minutes: a 12:30 mile. We went back and forth but I stuck to my 12-minute mile prediction. Now I felt like I was eating my words. The run was through a neighborhood this time, and there were lots of hills. I wanted to run into someone’s warm cozy house and take a nap on their couch. As always happens in the first few minutes of running, I could only think of how much I hate it, and could not think of a single reason why it ever seemed like a good idea to be doing such a thing.

Then we came upon the 1 mile marker. The time was 11 minutes 10 seconds. Despite feeling completely awful, we were doing better than we anticipated. I knew I could at least keep up the “I-swallowed-a-flaming-fireball-that-is-stealing-my-oxygen” pace that I had been running at, and that if we did that, we’d finish even better than we’d hoped- again!

And we did. In the last few seconds, Lola and I turned and looked at each other and without saying a word, we each kicked it up a few notches, racing each other to the finish line. We crossed the finish line at the same time- 22:18 (actually, I think Lola was a half-second ahead of me, but let’s just say we finished at the same time, shall we?). An 11:09 mile. That may not be so great to some, but for us, it's fabulous.

Victory!

2009-03-16T22:04:00.011-04:00

I don't know the last time I was as nervous as I was before the 5k. I woke up at least 10 times the night before, once so soaked in sweat that I had to change my shirt. The race was Sunday afternoon, and let me tell you it was the longest morning in the history of time. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, the air was crisp and fresh, and I honestly thought I was going to puke at the starting line. I know sometimes runners puke at the end of the race, but leave it to me to do it backwards. From the second I woke up to the second we started running, all I could focus on was trying not to freak out.

But I didn't freak out, and I didn't puke. I was nervous as hell; that didn't go away until a minute or two into the run. I underestimated how hard it would be to dodge the people slower than me while also trying not to get knocked over by the faster people (yup, that's right, there were people slower than me!). The crowd at the start of a race isn't very fun. Lola and I had agreed that it was ok if we didn't stick together during the race; neither one of us wanted to hold the other back. But within the first few seconds of starting, I had already lost her. I didn't know if she was ahead of me or behind me or even next to me. I started to get nervous but decided not to think about it- I couldn't handle any more things to be anxious about.

Then as the crowd thinned out a bit, she was next to me. Hooray! Propelled by the excitement, the adrenaline, and the rush of the crowd we ran farther without stopping or slowing down than we ever have before. In those few moments, I think we were runners- you know, the ones who make it look easy.

Then reality set in as I realized I could barely breathe, and that we were only maybe a half mile into our 3.1 mile race. But Lola and I naturally run at pretty much the same pace overall. She has more speed where I have more endurance. Her quick pace made me move faster; the duration of my sprints made her keep running. We ran by my parents, who were proudly waving their bumble bee balloons (how cute is that!?). It was the first moment in which I felt the magnitude of what I was doing and how much it meant to me, and I started to get a little emotional (my mom would later tell me she got choked up at this point, too). But I had the rest of the race to run and hadn't earned the right to bask in the glow of accomplishment yet.I felt pretty darn good until we rounded a corner and came upon one of the race volunteers who was yelling "If this is your second lap, go left. If this is your first lap, go right." Those two sentences knocked the confidence right out of me. We were coming around for the FIRST time and people were already on their SECOND LAP? What?! Is that even possible? Are they wearing jet-propelled footwear? Are they human? Am I the most horrible runner ever? I was shaken. All those people I thought were behind us might be behind us only because they are about to lap us?
"We're doing a lot worse than I thought!!!" I said to Lola in a slightly hysterical pant. "No. No way. I don't think so." Lola replied. I am usually the one saying how awesome we will be, but in that moment I had visions of the entire crowd of spectators being home by the time we crossed the finish line, my parents the only ones standing there to see us shuffle across the line. "Ok!", I said, not entirely sure but just wanting to believe her. Besides, what could I do? I already knew that my best was not going to be as good as other people's best. I was just shocked to see how much better their best was.

We just kept on going, pushing each other along without really saying much. I don't even really remember hearing the music playing on my iPod. I was just in it, in the moment, in the race so much that I almost wasn't aware of what was happening, only of what I had to do next. Which was keep....on.....running. And then run some more.

Finally, we turned a corner and there it was. There is no feeling like seeing the Finish banner high in the air ahead of you. I turned to Lola and said "Is that it?!". All this looping around and people passing us and I wasn't sure, I didn't want to get too excited for nothing. "That's it!" she said. And we took off, faster than lightning. Ok, maybe not exactly faster than lightning. That would mean lightning was slower than us, and if lightning was slower than we are few people would ever get struck by it. Because they could outrun it. But I did feel full of electricity--I have never felt adrenaline like I felt it in that moment. We ran fast. My body couldn't move fast enough for all the sudden energy I had. I crossed that finish line at full speed and it was nothing short of glorious.

Adding to the beauty of the moment was the fact that we finished exactly how we trained: together. Oh, and we weren't last. We finished in 39 minutes 3 seconds. That's a 12 minute 34 second mile, which completely surpassed what we thought was a lofty goal of a 15 minute mile. I am immensely proud of us. I always knew we could do it, I just didn't know we could be as good as we were.

When I got to work Monday morning I had an email from my mom:
"when i woke up this morning and sat at the kitchen table there were your 4 safety pins...i felt like I shouldn't move them..that they should stay there forever marking your special accomplishment..I wondered if you wanted these safety pins even though you now have over 200..i think these pins are special ....."

I think they're special too. I'm framing those suckers. They represent the sweat, the pain, the drive, the determination, the stubborn craziness it took for me to do this. The represent my first major step towards the triathlon. They represent that maybe, at least for that day, I could actually consider myself an athlete, and a runner. I will never again cross my first finish line. But now I know for sure that I hope to be crossing many more in the future.

On pins and needles

2009-03-14T21:57:00.004-04:00

Watching Run Fatboy Run with Lola did not make either one of us less nervous. She said she is so determined not to finish last that she will push me to the ground if she has to (she's joking...a little bit). I assured her we won't be last, and even though I never thought we would be, now I know we really won't cause there's no way in hell I'm going to get into a shoving match with Lola during our last steps to the finish line. We spent too much time discussing our "finish line photo" expressions to ruin it. My finish line face will be serious, with a hint of joy and accomplishment. Ah, who am I kidding? My finish line face will not be pretty, and my finish line photo the bane of my existence as it lives on in infamy on the race website.

We went over all the details of tomorrow like the incredibly organized and apprehensive people we are. I told Lola something that has been bothering me since Friday when I picked up my race packet- I only grabbed 2 safety pins. Obviously, to securely pin on your race number you should have 4 pins- one for each corner. But when the guy said "Need some pins?", I got all flustered and almost said "No" when I really meant "Maybe, what for?" Then I realized what for so I said "Yes" but only took 2.

Two! What was I thinking? Lola assures me that we'll get there early enough to stop by the registration booth and grab some more pins. "You don't understand", I say, "If I don't have the pins tonight I will stay up all night thinking about how I need pins. I'll run to CVS later." "That's crazy!", says Lola. "Go tomorrow- don't worry about it tonight, it'll be late, you need to go to bed early. Maybe you even have some lying around." But, nope, none with my sewing kit (it's a small, travel sewing kit- I'm not that domestic), none in my desk drawers...I'm out of places to look. I don't own any safety pins. I try not to think about it as we watch the movie and I do manage to put it out of my mind. Then, towards the end of the movie, when Fatboy is running his race, there's a shot of the race crowd. "Look at all those people with their numbers properly pinned on", I sigh. "Don't worry!", says Lola. "I have 4 safety pins! We can always do 3 and 3- it'll be fine!"

A short time later, I am standing in the aisles of CVS wondering where the safety pins are. Not the office supply aisle. Not the hardware/home aisle, although they do have about 82 kinds of lightbulbs, screws, and the thing you put in your sink drain. But no safety pins. So I head down the road to Walgreens. As I walk down the brightly light aisles I start to curse the 17 types of Crazy Glue and begin envisioning a sleepless night of safety-pin hunting. Then I spot them.

I am now the proud owner of 225 brass and nickel-plated safety pins in assorted sizes. And, hopefully, I'm about to become the recipient of a great night's sleep and maybe even a fabulous finish line photo.

Tomorrow, Tomorrow, It's only a day away

2009-03-14T14:56:00.003-04:00

Today is March 14th. That means tomorrow is my first 5k! I can't believe how quickly time has gone by.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't get nervous. Or, actually, more anxious than nervous. The anticipation is always what gets me, with anything. And this is no exception. Lola's coming over tonight to have a nutritious night-before-the-big-race dinner and watch Run Fatboy Run. Knowing that we both share the same nervous excitement makes me feel less nervous and more excited.

Am I ready? Heck yeah! Oh wait, except I'm kinda not. But a secret trick of mine is to pretend that I'm confident about things and then I trick myself into actually being confident. Sound silly? Maybe, but try it- it works! Anyway, I think I'm as ready as I could be at this point. I've definitely been working hard. A few short months ago I wouldn't have dreamed that I would be doing this, so regardless of how or when I finish tomorrow's race, I'll be happy to have finished it. And I'll also be happy it's over!

But for now, it's still looming on the horizon. Yikes!

Battle Lines Drawn

2009-03-09T17:51:00.001-04:00

Another week, another weigh-in. My initial weight loss battle plan, while effective, has apparently lost its strength. The enemy (the lbs I can’t seem to lose) is on to me, so I have been forced to change tactics in a few ways. First, I am choosing to attend WW tonight, Monday, instead of my normal Tuesday. My hope is that a different WW leader will not only inspire me but also offer me some constructive advice which I can work from. My regular leader says things to me like "Well, you could be doing better" and "You need to do something to jump start your weight loss." Thanks, lady. Do they pay you to state the obvious? Because if so I'd like an application.

Second tactic change: Take some advice. I've spent the past week taking into consideration the thought of a few near & dear friends, which is: You are working your body too hard. You're tired, and maybe not eating enough, and your body is holding on to all your calories (aka energy) because it feels like it needs to in order to survive. You look good, but you also look like hell. You're exhausted-- slow down.

So, I did. I went to the gym a mere 4 times this week, and was as lax with my points counting as I've ever been. I let my mind and my body relax a bit. A mini-vacation from WW, I am hoping, will be just what I needed.

Third tactic change: Stop focusing so much on the weight loss itself. I have been beating myself up thinking "Body, you might not like me very much right now, but you can't deny that I'm working hard, so stop being such a jerk and show me the weight loss, damnit!" This was not getting me anywhere, and in fact was driving me certifiably, Britney-Spears-with-an-umbrella crazy. My mind, despite being in overdrive, was not able to outwit my body. Apparently my body has a mind of it’s own and it is unfortunately not the same mind that wants to lose weight. Then, late last week I got a text from my little bro that made me realize what my outlook should have been: "Remember two things: 1) You are an [insert my last name here]...your body will fight weight loss like it's a disease and 2) The most impressive goal is completing the tri...the losing weight thing just comes along with it." He couldn’t be more right- why didn’t I let myself think of it this way? It does feel like my body is battling against this- and I know it’s never been easy for me or anyone else in my family to lose weight, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

And the triathlon truly is the bigger goal here. If I keep focused on that, losing weight will be a by-product of my training. My body can only deny me the weight loss for so long (do you hear that, body?! You can’t deny me forever!). Not that I’m giving up on WW- I just need to remember that it’s only one piece of the metaphorical pie. Mmmm....pie. I don’t even like pie and writing that made me hungry. Even metaphorical pie sounds delish.

Anyway. Will I meet my May 1st weight loss goal? Maybe. Does it matter if I don’t? Not really. And I say that grudgingly. It’s an arbitrary goal that should have been attainable and I’ll have no excuse if I don’t meet it (besides my body’s plot against me). But here’s another thought— Who do I need to give an excuse to if I don’t? Certainly I know all my own excuses, my reasons, my hard work and my mis-steps. I don’t need to answer to anyone but myself on this one. Do I want to meet my goal? Heck yes. Will I be mad if I don’t? Uh-huh, absolutely. Nothing I can do about that, it’s the way I am. But I know that I’ve worked very hard, and that if I don’t meet my goal it was not for lack of effort. I also know that I will get there; if not May 1st, then maybe June 1st. Or maybe August 1st (but eeek, I hope not!). I won’t give up. I’ll revise my battle strategy until my body & mind call a truce, hurtling across finish lines hand-in-hand, living happily ever after.

Now I’m off to my WW meeting. Wish me luck.

Step by Step

2009-03-08T22:07:00.006-04:00

My first 5k is one week from today. One week! I can't believe it's so soon- I feel like I've only just started running, and now I'm putting myself to a major test. It feels equivalent to signing a toddler up for the high school track team.

While a 5k might be a breeze to the guy who finished first last year (with a time of 15:33) it is for sure a huge deal to me. Just to put it in perspective, I would be happy if 15:33 was my time to finish ONE MILE. It's almost beyond my comprehension that anyone can run that fast when I think about how slow I run! That guy probably finds running "fun", whereas I'm more apt to describe it as "evil torture that steals my ability to breathe." So, I guess that's one of the differences between myself and someone who can run a 5-minute mile.

Now, I am not comparing myself to this guy, by any means. Nor am I trying to place first, or even 20th or 50th for that matter. The 50th person last year finished in 20:14, at which point I could only hope to be on mile 2, with lots of people behind me (so I'm not dead last). To be honest, I just want to finish and get my free t-shirt. I also hope that I meet my 15-minute mile goal, but truly that is secondary to just crossing the finish line eventually- a lofty enough goal in and of itself. I think that, for me, finishing is something to be proud of regardless of how long it takes. I don't know if I will ever feel like I can say that I am a runner, I just know I sure don't feel like one at this point.

Yet I hope to spend next Sunday being one. A week from my first race, I still have a love/hate relationship with running. I still stand in awe of the people who can run on the treadmill for 45 minutes straight. But I am starting to feel a strange camaraderie with other runners I see out there- not so much the ones who make it look easy; not the fancy pants runners. The ones who, like me, make every step look like the struggle that it is. They make me think that maybe all you have to do to be a runner is just continue to put one foot in front of the other.

Bumblebee vs. Universe

2009-03-02T21:49:00.014-05:00

I have to admit, I've been feeling pretty good lately. I've been working out a lot and eating well. All of my clothes are noticeably looser on me. Lest I get too comfortable, the universe choose this week to deliver me a quick one-two punch.

Monday was the day my triathlon shorts decided to show up on my doorstep. Any confidence I had prior to that night flew out the window so fast that it's probably halfway to Kuala Lumpur by now, never to be seen again. Before I even put them on I knew I was in for a problem, because they looked quite... small. I double checked the tag, hoping to find that I was sent newborn triathlon shorts by accident, but no such luck.

Let me tell you, those bad boys are so tight that putting them on is like putting on a pair of nylons- pull up a little here, a little there, a little here, until somehow, eventually, you have them on. I was almost afraid that I was going to rip them with all the tugging I was doing, but apparently they're pretty resilient. By far the most horrifying thing about these shorts is that they have a tight elastic at the bottom of the legs, which falls about an inch above my knees. I understand that the elastic is so you don't have to worry about your shorts riding up while you are in the middle of a race, but it is just not an attractive look unless maybe your legs are pure muscle, which mine sure aren't.

These shorts make me look ridiculous, and upon seeing myself in them for the first time I immediately flashed back to the dance recital days of my youth. I loved dance, but never ever ever did I love the flashy spandex outfits that came with the territory. This was due to the fact that I was always the chubbiest girl in the class. But once a year on dance recital nights I had to don a tight little costume and sashay out onto stage with all of the twiggy girls. I survived, but it was traumatizing at the time, and these tri shorts are causing me to relive it in a major way. If I'm ever feeling skinny, I will definitely be sure to check myself by yanking them on. I don't know if they're totally supposed to be this way or if perhaps they're a tad small. But as I'm checking out my lumpy self in the mirror, I'm also refusing to get a larger size, because I am sure that I can make myself fit into them before July.

Or at least, I thought so until the second punch was delivered on Tuesday, when I arrived at my weekly weigh-in to find out that, yet again, the scale had not budged.

Not a single ounce.

TKO.

Universe, 1. Me, nada.

This seems near impossible, because I've been working super hard. I've been pushing myself every day to do my absolute best. I'm not perfect, but I know I've been doing great. I deserve to see a weight loss. And I'm willing to work even harder. But at this point I do not know what else to do. I've eaten noodles made from the root of a vegetable I've never even heard of. They taste like earthworms, in case you're wondering. I've stopped drinking anything except water and coffee (and I've been drinking A LOT of water). I'm exercising at least 5 days a week for at least 45 minutes. I write down everything I put in my mouth and can tell you off hand the points value of nearly anything. Yogurt? 2 points. Banana? 2 points. Apple? 1 point, as long as its 2.5" in diameter or smaller. If not, then 2 points. And yes, I've grabbed a ruler and measured apples to be sure I'm calculating correctly.

I would not be exaggerating if I was to say I almost lost my grip on sanity in the minutes after I stepped off that scale. For a few moments I felt sure the universe really was playing a nasty trick on me (ok, so I kinda still do). I have been working so hard, and I'm freaking exhausted. I even fell asleep in the bath tub the other night. That is a bad, bad thing, especially for someone who lives alone. My cats hate the water and are not CPR-certified. I'd have been screwed if I'd gone under.

Due to all this hard work, I feel like I need to see some downward movement on the scale. It would be my body's way of saying "Great work, my friend. You did good." Instead, it feels like my body is saying "Hahahaha!!! F*%^ you!"

I know that losing weight, or not losing weight, is not the end of the world. I know there's worse things that could happen. I know I don't have a huge amount to lose. But still, I've set a goal for myself, and I'm determined to meet it, so it makes me really cranky when I realize I might not.

After 2 days of struggling to put a positive spin on this, I knew I needed to do something different to kick my ass into gear and get over it. Something I hadn't done yet. So tonight, I did it. I ran on the treadmill! And I did not fall off- I didn't even stumble! While this might not seem like a huge accomplishment, believe me-- it was. I haven't been able to successfully run on the treadmill since...ok, I've never been able to successfully run on the treadmill. Take that, universe--I'm ready for a rematch any day.

Moh-tuh-vey-shuhn

2009-03-02T21:11:00.005-05:00

The reason I can get out of bed to go running at 7:45 on a cold, windy Saturday morning in February is motivation. Because, let me tell you, I do not enjoy cold, windy February mornings. Actually, I don't like mornings in general.

I derive this motivation from many places. First of all, I'm motivated by myself and the power of my own ambition. Ultimately, I am the reason that I work so hard. I don't want to be better than anyone else. I want to be a better version of me.

The idea of accomplishment motivates me. Often when I'm running and I start to get tired, I think about how it will feel to cross my first real finish line, and that adds a little extra pep in my step. I hope that when it happens, the moment is as great as I think it will be. And since I'd like to know for sure, it motivates me to try a little harder, run a little longer, push myself a little further.

My family and friends have motivated me. Those closest to me are so incredibly enthusiastic, supportive & encouraging about my goals that it makes me even more excited to be doing what I'm doing. Even when I'm out there running alone I can hear all of this positivity in my head and it keeps me going, like my own personal, invisible cheerleading squad.

All of this is fabulously motivating. It's wonderful. But there's one huge motivator that is a large part of what truly makes it possible, and to which I owe nearly everything.

And that's my iPod. Yes, without my iPod, I wouldn't make it through a single gym workout; my feet wouldn't move fast enough to break into even a slow jog. I need a beat to run to; a soundtrack to lay behind the sound of my feet pounding on the pavement, the swoosh swoosh sound of the elliptical, the clang of weights being dropped. Without "AwNaw" by the Nappy Roots & POD, for example, I probably would have burned 50% less calories last Tuesday alone. I owe at least 5 pounds of my weight loss solely to "No More Drama" by Mary J. Blige, and the laid-back, accomplished feeling that comes with most of my cool-downs to Janet Jackson's "Son of a Gun". I don't even want to think about what workouts would be like without "Whine Up" by Kat DeLuna.

Running requires a different soundtrack altogether, for which I need to thank The Killers for "Human", The B-52s for "Roam" and the Flobots for "Handlebars". Without these songs, I would surely be whimpering under a tree or small bush somewhere along my running route.

Which is why, as I'm sure you'll understand, I was very flustered when my iPod battery died 30 minutes into my run on Saturday morning. Once I realized what had happened, I headed straight for my car without hesitation. There would be no point in trying to run any longer without it; it would be worse than trying to run barefoot.

I will run with sneakers that cut my heels. I will run in the cold, and in the wind. I will run when my whole entire body is sore from a run the day before. I will even run in sneakers that do not match the rest of my outfit.

But I will not run without my iPod.

#1 Fan

2009-02-27T20:00:00.008-05:00

If most people had a choice between being hot & sweaty and not being hot & sweaty, I think they would choose to not be. And last night at the gym, my friend Lola & I met perhaps the only man on the planet who happens to prefer a maximum amount of heat, and therefore, sweat.

Let me preface this by saying that the gym near my work (where I meet my pal Lola a few times a week) has a temperature problem. It started off as a problem in only one room, which we quickly dubbed "The Hot Dog Breath Room" because it feels like a hot, sweaty, slobbery dog is breathing on you in the dead of summer. It's nasty, and definitely not normal. No gym I've ever been to has had such a problem. Most gyms regulate their temperatures well or at least have lots of fans to help circulate the air; whenever you have 40+ people in one room working out, it's going to get a little out of control temperature-wise if you aren't careful. Actually, the temperature itself is not the whole problem- it's not only hot but muggy. And, while I understand that working out means sweating (and I'm ok with that) if I can do something to mitigate the amount of perspiration I'm producing, I certainly will. Just makes a workout a little more enjoyable, know what I mean? But apparently not everyone knows what I mean. Enter Old Hot Sweaty Dog Man.

Picture it: Lola & I happily score two ellipticals right by the fans (the ONLY two fans in the place), a major coup since the place is pretty packed. And almost as soon as we hop on, Lola notices the fan pointing our way isn't on. She turns to me and says "You think anyone would mind if I turn the fan on?". "Definitely not," I say. "People will be silently thanking you, I'm sure. They probably just don't want to get off their machines in order to turn it on. You'd basically be a hero."

Ahhh, how wrong I was.

As she plugs the fan in, the old guy on the machine next to her says "Do you mind not pointing that thing at me? I don't need the fan blowing on me while I'm working out." Certainly shocked by not only his statement (who doesn't want the fan? Hero! She's supposed to be a hero!) but also his rude tone, Lola smiles, turns the fan away from him and says, perfectly polite to his super nasty, "Sorry! Is this better?" Apparently not. "Why do you girls want to have the fan blowing on you anyway?," he says, even ruder than before. "You're working out. You are supposed to be sweating."

Whhaaaaaat?

Why, actually sir, I want the fan blowing on me so that while I work out, my hair blows in the wind like a Hollywood starlet's. You see, the paparazzi are always hounding me, and there's a big row of windows over there through which they can take my picture. Clearly you must understand that I have to look good- I absolutely need my hair blowing in the wind in order to achieve the best photo op possible. Actually, do you mind scooching forward a bit so I can check my lip gloss in that mirror behind you? Love ya! Kisses!

What the hell?! Why does he THINK we want the fan on us? Because it's freaking HOT, that's why! Sweating less because a fan is cooling you down does not mean you are working less. Having a fan just means that you don't feel so hot & icky. This man is not only a masochist but a sadist. Plus he's a total cranky pants. I want to ask him why he has a bottle of water with him. Why does he need to drink water while working out- according to his own school of thought, shouldn't he be hot, sweaty AND thirsty?

Which is quite different from my school of thought, which is keep your pointless opinions to yourself, old man, especially if you are going to be rude about them. Fine if you don't want the fan on you, but be nice about it.

I now blame the whole Hot Dog feeling of that gym on Hot Dog Man. I bet he has gone around being rude to people so often that everyone suffers the heat & humidity out of pure fear. The two fans that exist are there only for times when Hot Dog Man isn't around to yell at people, and when he arrives they quickly yank the plugs out of the wall and suffer in silence.

It was definitely not worth a confrontation, so we said nothing. But if US Weekly publishes a photo of me and there's even a glint of perspiration on my forehead, Hot Dog Man is going down.

Driven

2009-02-24T21:36:00.008-05:00

I was so frustrated with my no-loss weigh-in last week and so afraid that I would face the same fate tonight that I spent my lunch break reviewing my weight loss. I looked back in my WW book and found successful weeks where I've lost an amount of weight that makes me happy (1 pound or more). Then, I went to those weeks in my food diary and reviewed what I had been eating. Then I compared it to the not-so-good weeks. Then I wrote a list of a few things things that I observed through all this analysis that could help me ensure future good weeks. After that, I calculated that as of last Tuesday's weigh-in, I had 11.8 pounds to lose in 10 weeks in order to meet the May 1st weight goal I set for myself (and then I want to lose 5 pounds after that, but first things first, right?). That means 1.18 pounds per week- and since my weigh-in was tonight, I realized that in the past week I would have to have lost that much in order to get back on track with my goal. And guess what- I didn't. Which set my brain spinning again, because it means I had to re-do my lunchtime calculation, and I now have 9 weeks and must now lose an average of 1.2 pounds a week to meet my first goal.

You might be thinking that I'm obsessed. And let's be honest, you'd kinda be right. Even so, I take issue with the word "obsessed". Visual Thesaurus.com shows the word "obsessed" as being about halfway between the words "possessed", and "taken up", "preoccupied", "haunted". This all seems too negative. I certainly don't feel haunted or possessed; those words bring to mind ghosts and exorcism, which are not applicable here (although in a way I feel I have exorcised a few demons from my life, now that I think of it). But "obsessed" has a negative undertone; I'd appreciate adjectives with a positive connotation, such as "driven", "focused" or "determined". After all, my "drive" is simply the opposite of laziness, my "focus" the opposite of indifference, my "determination" the opposite of hesitation. Instead of wishing I'm doing, instead of hoping I'm training. Instead of walking-- I'm running.

Does this shirt make my butt look fast?

2009-02-23T22:50:00.006-05:00

Before my sudden foray into the world of triathlon training, shopping was my cardio. My kind of shopping takes endurance, perseverance and strength. Ever walked around a store holding a big pile of clothes you want to try on? Just say no to the kind woman who asks if you want her to start a fitting room for you and it's like lifting weights, I tell ya. (Technically, it might be more beneficial than lifting weights because at the end you have a cute new something to wear). Ever been on the hunt for the perfect outfit? Walk around the mall for hours to find it, my friend, and you're burning calories without even thinking about it. Best. Workout. Ever.

Sadly enough, I have not been doing much shopping lately since I've been focusing so much on losing weight. There's no point in shopping when you're hoping the pants you'd buy now will soon be in a pile for Goodwill 'cause they're too big for your skinny ass. And since I've found some more serious (but much less fun) forms of cardiovascular workout, I can't quite justify skipping the gym to go shopping.

But what kind of clothes do I need to buy? Why, workout clothes of course! I spent a good 45 minutes browsing the running apparel section of a sporting goods store this Saturday afternoon- which was definitely a first. I usually park outside that store because there's always open spaces (guess more people prefer to park by Macy's, go figure!) and I walk right through it to get to the rest of the mall. But on Saturday I was there on purpose. Gotta be able to have some fun with the gym clothes, right? I'm not one of those over-the-top women who wears full makeup and hair along with a skimpy color-coordinated ensemble to workout. It's not a runway, and I don't need a fancy outfit to fuss with that I'm just going to end up sweating in. But I'd at least like my t-shirt to be cute!

So, while I wait for the day that I've lost all the weight I want to lose and can buy real clothes again, I can content myself with the fabulosity found in a pink Nike t-shirt with silver lettering and a witty message. In case you were wondering, I'm not sure the shirt made my butt look fast, but it made me look fab, and hopefully fast is right around the corner.

February 22, 2009

2009-02-22T07:41:00.003-05:00

The strangest thing happened during my morning run yesterday. I was jogging along, listening to my iPod and enjoying the blue sky, when suddenly it happened. I realized that I am starting to like running.

It was incredibly cold outside and very windy-- my hands (gloveless...whoops) felt chapped from the cold and my hair was whipping around my face-- but still. I was happy to be running.
Maybe it was a delusional moment caused by the euphoria I felt just to be running in sneakers that fit properly. On Monday, my mom and I went to a store for runners (yup, they let me in) and got officially fitted for a pair. They measured my feet, made me stand and bend and walk so they could watch my feet and see what kind of shoe support I needed.

I had just finished a run in my old old old sneakers from high school (since there was no way I could even walk in the newer but foot-mutilating pair) and I had dutifully bandaged my feet to protect them from the high school sneaks, just in case. But after the run and a shower, turns out the Band-Aids felt no loyalty to my feet and had migrated up to my pants. So as I'm walking away from the shoe guy so he can study my feet, just cracking a joke about how I feel like I'm on a runway, my mom tells me I have a Band-Aid stuck to my pants. How embarassing and icky (any time you find a Band-Aid any place other than covering a wound, it's gross, even if it's your own Band-Aid). Although it did add some credence to the killer-shoe story I had just finished telling the shoe guy.

I tried on a few pairs of shoes that he picked just for me. It's hard to know exactly what you're looking for, since in general sneakers are comfortable right off the bat. It's not like when you try on a pair of heels and know right away that noooooooooo, you cannot possibly wear those for more than 30 seconds without all the tendons in the bottom of your feet snapping. I have also made a promise to myself and others not to choose the new sneakers based on looks. And since I'm not shopping for a sale like I usually would be, I don't have that guideline either. I'm a little lost in running shoe land. So I decide to go with the pair that feels most comfortable and supportive. My mom makes me try them on with my new non-cotton socks (since I've recently learned that cotton socks are a no-no for runners, the cotton traps in moisture and can cause blisters) just to be sure they're comfortable. I try telling her that socks are socks, but apparently that's not so in Mom-world. To humor her, I try the socks on, and the shoes, and although the socks make no difference in how the shoes fit, it's all so comfy it almost makes me want to go for another run. Almost.

So maybe it's the comfort my feet are feeling that makes me enjoy my run. Maybe it's running in the park, which is better than running on a track because you don't have to see how far you have until you're done, in the park you're just running until you decide you don't want to be running anymore. Maybe it's just the fact that of my own free will, I got out of bed and got dressed and went running, and that makes me happy.

I'm going for another run today, and maybe this one will remind me how much I hate running. Maybe I'll love it again. Or maybe it will always be a love/hate relationship, depending on the day and time and place and the mood I'm in. But it's a relationship I'm happy to have.

February 17, 2009

2009-02-17T21:31:00.004-05:00

My calves hurt. My thighs hurt. My arms hurt. My butt hurts. Every single muscle in my body is crying out today, and each one is saying (in unison): "ouch!"

And this is because I went running for the first time yesterday. Actual running- outside, on a track. And I have to be honest. It sucked, and I am bad at it. I've been joking for so long about how much I dislike running and how horrible I have always been that I forgot how true that is. I'm awful! And I hate it!

Any confidence I had before I stepped onto the track yesterday morning vanished way before I had even finished my first lap. Remember the runner I saw on Cemetery Road the other day? Yeah, that guy was an Olympic gold medalist compared to me.

When I run I can't seem to make my breathing make sense- it becomes very chaotic and would probably disturb anyone who happened to pass me by. To remedy this I have to try really hard to breathe correctly, which fortunately is not something I have to do in the course of my normal life, so it's a little hard to figure out how to get that down. I mean, I'd like to think I'm fairly proficient at breathing in general. It's just breathing while running that I have a problem with.

So now I've realized that I have one month til my first 5k and a loooong way to go. Yup, I just said my first 5k. Maybe I'm going crazy(or crazier, depending on how you look at it) but after running my first 2 laps around the track, I realized that I was not going to be as prepared as I'd like to be for the March 5k. And being under-prepared for that would make me more nervous for the triathlon in July. So....I'll be finding another 5k to run before July. Maybe more than one. After all, I really really really don't want to finish last at the triathlon. And if running is this hard at 9am when all I've done that day is wake up and make oatmeal, well, I can't imagine running after I've been swimming and biking all morning. Apparently oatmeal is about what I can handle right now, and I've gotta be better than that.

The good news is that I'm strangely invigorated by this hatred of running. It makes the idea of accomplishing it that much sweeter. And I was sure that all my hard work (at the gym every day except one since my last weigh-in) was going to reflect in the number I saw on the scale tonight. Instead, I lost nothing. I think that my body might be angry about how hard I've made it work over the past couple of weeks and is therefore playing tricks on me again. On the bright side, at least I didn't gain anything- I think I would have ran out of the building screaming if that had happened. Or, given my current condition, hobbled out of the building with a dejected look on my face, since running and screaming are out of the question right now.

When I got home, there was a small box waiting outside my door. As soon as I saw it I knew what it was--my triathlon top. Yikes! The shorts are on backorder, so I've got to wait a few more weeks to get the full effect, but the good news about the top is that it didn't do any further damage to my ego, since it's super cute (well, as far as triathlon gear goes) and it fits. It has some mysterious slits, which at first glance I assumed were pockets but found that weird, since they don't zip or close in any way. What would you put in there? I'm wondering if it's acceptable to store a lip balm so I have one with me throughout the race. After all, I never go anywhere without a lip balm; I have one in my bag, the pockets of all my coats, the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, on my keyboard at home, next to my bed, on my desk at work, on my coffee table and in my car, and I don't see why a triathlon should be an exception.

Out of curiousity, I decided to investigate and went to the website where I ordered the top from to see if the site's description of the top mentions any such lip balm pockets. Turns out these are "patent pending 'Energy Cell' side pockets". This makes me nervous. What does it mean? Is it just marketing-speak for "useless pockets"? While I know I'll need all the energy I can get, I don't think much energy would fit in these teeny pockets, and I'd rather have my lip balm.

February 14, 2009

2009-02-14T09:31:00.001-05:00

Ahhh, Valentine's Day.

It's even the most content single girl's kryptonite. The red and pink aisles of CVS and Walgreens have been haunting me for weeks. Say all you want about it being a Hallmark holiday that means nothing. If you're saying that, I guarantee that you are in a relationship. Let me just say there's a huge difference between choosing not to celebrate and not celebrating because you have no choice. In other words, have no one to celebrate with.

Valentine's Day is especially frustrating for me because not only do I loooove holidays and excuses to celebrate (and it makes me upset just on the grounds that I can't fully participate in the day), but I'm a huge dorky romantic at heart who believes in love more than anything in this world. I love love. I think that everyone who CAN celebrate Valentine's Day should, and yet most relationship people are so blah about it. I think this mentality is kind of like how you don't want to waste food because there are starving people in the world, but yet you still don't always eat everything on your plate and occasionally let food in your fridge go to waste. You are so used to what you have that you forget that not everyone has it; you forget you are lucky to have it. But that doesn't change the fact that you are indeed lucky, that you do have something that others wish they had. And there's no excuse for not celebrating your good fortune on a day made for that celebration.

But I'll end my rant there. What is Valentine's Day, really? A day to celebrate love. And this year, I'd like to think of it as just that, because it allows me to participate a little bit more. Let's just say that, for me, romantic love has been dead for so long that it could be considered extinct, but there is still a lot of love in my life. I have a wonderful family who loves me and sends me VDay cards. I have friends who love me enough to try to persuade me that everyone hates Valentine's Day so I don't feel so bad (even thought that rationality backfires with me, I appreciate the effort). I have co-workers who love me enough to not let me order red velvet cake at our girls-only pre-Valentine's Day dinner, when my willpower starts to fade in the face of everyone else's desserts on the table.

Don't get me wrong, it definitely sucks to be single on Valentine's Day, while everyone else I know gets to spend it with people they love. No amount of positive thinking will get me to the point where I don't think that it's a total bummer. But I'm happy that the people I love have people that they love.

And, hey, maybe the gym will be pretty empty today because everyone is doing VDay stuff and I won't have to park a million miles away. I've decided to ditch my original Valentine's Day plan of hibernation (stay on the couch all day to avoid having to realize what day it is) by going to see "He's Just Not That Into You" tonight, so either I'll be surrounded by girls just like me (it's so not a good date movie) or no one (since everyone is at date movies). Which means no crowds. No one's bringing me chocolates or taking me out to a dinner that will ultimately just ruin my diet. An honestly, if I was in a relationship right now I wouldn't want chocolates or a fancy dinner anyway. I'd want new sneakers.

February 12, 2009

2009-02-12T20:59:00.004-05:00

I have obtained my first sports-related injury. Since this injury was obtained while running (ok, I lie, it was obtained while fast-walking. Ok, maybe semi-fast-walking) I feel that this makes me a little more official as a runner (fast-walker).

Before anybody gets nervous, don't worry. The doctor said I'll be fine. Ok, just kidding again, my injury didn't warrant a trip to the doctor (although that would have been a bonus if he was handsome). And ok, so it was a minor cut that was induced by my sock slipping down below my sneaker, causing my sneaker to cut into my skin. BUT I was on the treadmill when it happened, so therefore, it's my first sports-related injury. And although the treadmill is not a sport, I was on the treadmill due to the triathlon which is a sport, so... sports-related inury.

I wasn't a baby about it or anything; perhaps I learned my "tough it out" mentality from my little bro, who once played a season of football with a broken wrist. Maybe it's not fair to compare playing football with a broken bone to fast-walking on the treadmill with a cut, but....you see my point. Anyway, at the time he didn't know his wrist was broken, kinda like I didn't know that blood was seeping through my sock and onto my sneaker. I think the blood-stained sneaker might be the mark of a true runner...er, walker. Or maybe it's just the mark of someone with poor footwear. But in any case, I snapped a photo of the carnage to mark the occasion, and to help give me street cred with the actual runners of the world. See that dark spot on the shoe on the right? That's the price you pay to be a triathlete-in-training.

February 10, 2009

2009-02-10T22:20:00.007-05:00

It's official! I am now registered for both the 5k and triathlon. It's also official because I bought the triathlon outfit. There's no going back now (since God knows I won't ever be wearing a triathlon outfit anywhere else but a triathlon)! And...drumroll, please......here it is!
No psychedlic bathing suit for me- only a tri top and tri shorts- designed to function well for all 3 sports- swimming, biking and running. Cute and functional. Fashion disaster averted.

I realize I'm months away from the triathlon, but in a weird way, I almost want it to happen now. Only, if it happened now I would definitely have some... issues. For instance, I would struggle to meet my first goal, which is: Finish the race! And to further quantify that goal, I would like to shoot for the stars and plan on finishing the race on my feet, not, say, crossing the finish line on a stretcher, in a wheelchair, or being carried over the shoulder of some kind soulwho takes pity on me.

And, if I don't meet that first goal, it would be hard to meet my second goal which is: Don't be last! And just to do some clarification here as well, it wouldn't count if I wasn't last but any type of assistance was required to propel me over the finish line. Even if I am struggling, even if I think I might be dead last, I won't be the equivalent of the woman who hopped the T in order to finish the Boston Marathon "first". Although I hear they give free massages to people who complete the Boston Marathon, so maybe she had a good idea going there, since I'm sure the line gets pretty long after a while. (Kidding!- I would never do something so lame just to get a massage*.)

So if the race was today, I fear I'd be toast. I will confess that this is in part due to the fact that I haven't even been running outside yet, still have not even touched an actual bicycle or gotten my feet wet anywhere except the shower. The good news is that my treadmill skills are steadily improving- besides accidentally hitting the emergency stop button twice on Saturday, I have managed to hold my own. Well, as far as walking goes. Alas, I have not yet advanced to running. Yesterday the guy next to me on the treadmill was running so fast and at such a steep incline that it almost made me fall off the treadmill. I do not understand how people do this. Imagine walking directly up a wall, but instead of walking you're running. That is what this guy was essentially doing. He was also holding on for dear life and had his body tilted at such an angle that I was nervous that even if I wasn't going to fall over, he sure was.

I don't know if I aspire to be one of these crazy treadmill people. Right now I'm just aiming for a slow, no-hands jog at a moderate incline, sustained for 30 minutes without hitting the emergency stop. That will be a big day for me.

*Unless the massage was being given by John Krasinski. Then all bets are off. I feel compelled to include this asterisk in case the circumstance should arise. I like to be a woman of my word.

February 8, 2009

2009-02-08T22:13:00.002-05:00

I spent way too long yesterday browsing online for a cute triathlon outfit. It's months away but I want to have an idea of what I'm in for from every angle, and that includes fashion. For instance, I will not be wearing one of those bathing suits that look like a 90's electric light show on a 70's acid trip. Why do all the serious bathing suits (ones designed for athletic function, not tanning, tropical drinks and cabana boys) look so incredibly un-serious? These suits seem to be saying "Hey- I may not be lounging poolside, but I'm a ton of fun. Honest! Just look at my geometric patterns of fluorescent wonder!" Blech. I will not be wearing on of those. Personally, I will need my bathing suit to be one that says "Hey-I'm a functional bathing suit, designed to keep you sufficiently covered and, most importantly, to help prevent you from drowning. Oh, and I'm super cute." Ok, so maybe no bathing suit will prevent me from drowning (unless it's one of those kids bathing suits with a life preserver built in, but a) I don't think they make those in adult sizes and b) that might not be that great for a race) but I think I can count on one to be cute yet properly modest; this is not a time to wonder if one quick movement might mean over exposure. And, while I assure you I won't be worrying about how I look that day (hmm, I wonder even as I write this if that's a little white lie), I see nothing wrong with wanting to prepare myself with some basics that meet my aesthetic criteria. It may seem a little silly to put this much thought into the style aspect of a triathlon- you probably didn't even know there was a style aspect to a triathlon, and maybe there usually isn't, and I just invented it. But I don't care. If I am going to do something, I'm going to do it with at least a little bit of fabulosity, even if it just means reigning in the bathing suit craziness... and perhaps matching my ensemble to my bike.

February 6, 2009

2009-02-06T19:10:00.002-05:00

Driving home from the gym the other night, I passed a man who was out running. This disturbed me greatly because it was the day after a snow storm, and I was using that (and the winter in general) as a really great excuse to avoid any outdoor running. This man was ruining my entire convenient little theory.

Also disturbing was that he was running down Cemetery Road IN THE DARK. I can assure you, I will never be running on Cemetery Road and especially not in the dark. It’s just as creepy a road as it sounds like it would be: heavily wooded on one side, with an open field on the other. I have an unwritten promise with myself to never even drive down that road after 8pm.

It was dark out, and he was wearing a florescent orange reflective vest that made him look like a construction-zone escapee. I understand that it is important to wear reflective clothing when jogging at night, but does it have to be so ugly? I don’t really plan on running at night but if the mood strikes me, I truly hope I can find some appropriate clothing that’s not reminiscent of a traffic cone.

Not that this guy was, or should have been, trying to be stylish. In fact, I was pretty glad he was wearing that vest, because he was running with such a lackluster gait that until I noticed his vest I thought he was injured and slowly running for help, like a horror-movie victim. Runners usually have such a purposeful, composed look about them as they sprint along. This guy was running begrudgingly, like he was just trying to get somewhere so he could not be running anymore. Now that I think of it, I should have pulled over and asked him to be my new running buddy. I think his horror movie victim running style is something I could aspire to.

Truth be told, I’ve always admired runners, and found myself slightly in awe of them. What type of people are these, I think to myself, that could be doing anything they want right now yet choose to go running?

For a very short while when I was in high school my mom and I would try to go running in the morning. Very early, like 5am. I think it was my idea, but every day when she would come upstairs to wake me up I’d yell (or what passed for yelling in my near comatose state) and more often than not, refuse to go. I can’t imagine getting out of bed that early of my own accord and then having to go outside and put one foot in front of the other.

And like I dragged my mom along on my morning running attempts when I was in high school, I’m dragging as many willing souls as I can find along with me on my quest to get in shape for the triathlon. It’s so much more fun to work out with a friend than to trudge along by yourself. At least then I'll have someone there to laugh at me when I go flying off the treadmill. That hasn’t happened yet but I fear the time is near, and I know strangers would be too nice to laugh. The treadmill makes me feel so uncoordinated, which is scary because its pretty close to actual running, something I think I miiiiight need to be able to do in order to complete a triathlon.

February 4, 2009

2009-02-04T20:27:00.003-05:00

It snowed last night, and what should have been a 30 minute drive home from work took nearly 2 hours. Before heading home, I stopped at my weekly Weight Watchers (WW) meeting to weigh in (classes were cancelled, it was a mess on the road, but they were letting people stop by to weigh in- woohoo!). I got there right after they had locked the door; luckily, the woman behind the desk saw me and let me in.

When I say luckily, I'm saying it from a perspective of that "consciously trying to be positive" thing I've been talking about. "Luckily", because after driving in the snow for so long, (and almost killing myself in the parking lot because I do not pay attention to weather reports, did not realize it was going to snow that much and was therefore wearing 3" heels) I would have been pissed if I went out of my way to get there and they had closed early. So, "luckily" I made it just in the nick of time. "Luckily" she allowed me to step on the scale. And that's about where my luck ended, and the trying to be positive thing kicked in.

I stepped on that scale only to find out I'd gained .8 pounds. The first reaction that ran through my head involves inappropriate words I will not write here, because my mom reads my blog. But when you spend your days consciously trying to lose weight, and instead you gain nearly a pound, well, that is completely unfair. It should be simple math. Eat less + exercise= lose weight! But my body decided to go with a more complicated equation that didn't quite add up to me. Or rather, it did add up. It added .8 up.

Upon hearing the news, both my WW partner-in-crime, Callie, and my mom asked the same question: Did you pee before you weighed in? Well, I had been stuck in the car for 2 hours, so no, I hadn't had the opportunity. But this idea caused me to start accounting for all the possible variables. For instance, I always wear the same pants on Tuesdays (specifically because of the weigh-in, not because I have Tuesday pants normally or anything) and take off my shoes, so that couldn't be it. But I usually DO pee right before weighing in. And, usually I wear a cardigan and take that off but this time I wasn't so I had a long-sleeve button-up shirt on, and that shirt has pearl buttons instead of regular ones, so maybe those weigh more, and I was wearing a different necklace than I usually wear so maybe THAT weighs more. So we've got shirt, pearl buttons and necklace. Oh, and urine. And honestly, this is when I realized that if I can account for a .8 pound weight gain in urine and buttons, then it's really not a big deal.

But I was still agitated, so I did what any rational girl would do. I stopped stressing, used the rest of my WW points left for the day on cookie dough, took a bath and went to bed early, without working out. While I do not recommend this particular tactic as a way to lose .8 pounds should you happen to gain them, or as a surefire way to get triathlon ready, I have to say that the cookie dough sure was yummy.

February 3, 2009

2009-02-03T12:41:00.001-05:00

And the answer is, I have no idea.

But I feel compelled to provide a better answer than that, so I'll attempt to break it down a bit, dig in and provide as much insight as possible.

First, the idea came to me while watching MTV. While MTV is not normally a source of inspiration for me, or anyone for that matter, I happened to catch the end of an episode of MADE, where an overweight and clearly non-athletic high school kid was struggling his way through a triathlon. At the end of the race, he was crying, his mom was crying, his trainer was crying. Against all odds, he had finished the race. Something about it touched me more than I would have guessed a show like MADE could, and I said to my brother "I would like to run a triathlon someday. That would be really cool." Operative word here is of course "someday"- meaning you can get away with not ever doing it because the future is, well, always in the future.

But the idea stuck with me, and while it didn't necessarily make sense (for the reasons I described in my first post), I realized that I meant what I said. I wanted to do it. And thinking about it more, what would be my reason to NOT do it? I could come up with no viable excuse (and believe me, I tried realllly hard to find one). If I wanted to do it and didn’t, I would just be lazy. That would be the only reason. And who wants to be lazy?

Reasons to do it? Many. Reasons to not do it? None. Even a mathematically and athletically challenged person like myself realized that was a very clear score. Triathlon beats laziness in an upset no one saw coming. So there was really no choice; I had made up my mind before I even realized it.

Also, I had been suffering through a kind of quarter-life crisis that was in large part self-induced. It’s a little hard to explain unless you’ve been there, or if you know me. While I’m an overall positive and happy person, my mind is naturally like a slow-cooker— things stay in there and marinate, slowly dissolving, until I have completely dissected the smallest minutiae of my life. It’s an exhausting, vicious, anxiety-inducing habit. And I knew that there are much worse things in life than the things I was dealing with, and that I needed to focus my energy on positive things, not negative ones. I am a single 26-year-old who lives alone with 2 cats and hasn’t been in a serious relationship since before I could legally drink, yes. But looking at it in a different light, I am independent, support myself, and can decorate however I want to. The toilet seat is never left up. No one leaves shoes or dirty clothes lying around my apartment but me. I am surrounded by wonderful friends and family. And my cats rock.

It’s all in how you look at it, and before I was allowing myself to wallow in the negativity, instead of brushing it off and moving forward. There’s not much I can do about not being single; actually, I have done all the things you can actively do to try not to be single, and those unfortunate experiences did not help me feel any better. In fact, they made me feel worse and are stories for another time, because they should only be told over many glasses of wine. Complaining about still being in Connecticut after all these years wasn’t getting me out of Connecticut, it was just making me more discontent, and I wasn’t making moves to go anywhere even with all that bitching I was doing. I was at the end of my rope with myself. But I love me, so I decided it was time for a major overhaul.

And I decided to change everything. It’s that complicated, and it’s that simple. I don’t even allow myself to think about my single status, for example. For the first time in a long time, I don’t even want to date. For real. (I used to cover my eyes and say “I’m not looking...I’m not looking” when people would tell me I’d find him when I wasn’t looking for him, so those who know me might be initially skeptical upon hearing this. But I swear, guys, it's true.). I want to put that energy--because it took a LOT of energy--towards something new. I live in an apartment, and a house seems so far away from my reach, but you know what? Either I’ll have a house someday or I won’t, and there’s only so much I can do about that. So I need to do what I can and move on. It’s all very self-help book sounding at this point, I know, but go with me on this. Negativity breeds negativity. I need positivity, for the big things and for the every day things. It’s a conscious effort. For example, maybe I left the house late and spilled coffee on my shirt and sat in traffic because it was snowing (and I hate snow) and was late to work and inhaled fuzz from my glove and couldn’t stop coughing for 20 minutes. You could definitely allow a series of annoying things like that to be the start of a bad, grouchy day, and you might even feel justified for feeling that way. Or, you could realize there’s nothing to be done about those things, so they don’t really matter. After all, fuzz is digestible. Don’t focus on it. Instead, focus on having a good day. MAKE yourself be happy. And you can be.

From that I realized I had to pick the bigger things I could change in my life that were worthy of attention, and change them. I started Weight Watchers on December 9th and have lost 11 pounds to date (and I weigh in tonight, yikes, wish me luck!). I was skeptical of it at first, but now when I talk about it I sound like a paid spokesperson (I'm not, but Weight Watchers, if you're reading this, have your people call my people). I feel great. My goal is 12.2 more pounds by May 1st, and then 4 more after that, which will happen because it’s up to me, and I see success as the only option.

And here, we come full circle back to the triathlon idea. For whatever reason and accumulation of circumstances, I want to complete a triathlon. So I will. I will use my energy to focus, concentrate, work hard, step outside the box. Actually, I will swim, bike and run outside the box. Why not?

February 2, 2009

2009-02-02T20:10:00.001-05:00

With any luck (ok, luck and lots of hard work and dedication) in a mere 5 months and 24 days from now, I will have completed my first triathlon. If you know me, there's about a 80% chance that you're laughing right now. That's just a rough percentage, but of all the people I've told, only three of them haven't laughed. One of them was my co-worker Audrey, who, God bless her, is going to be my guide throughout this journey to triathlete status. She does not think it's funny, is excited to help me train, and scares me daily by saying things like "We'll definitely have to practice our transitions" and "Let's run a 5k to see what we need to work on". I know what I need to work on- everything- and think a 5k will just scare me, so I have picked a St. Patrick's Day run that ends at a bar.

Conversely, the people who thought it was funniest were my parents. Now, before I say anything else I have to say that my parents are very loving and supportive people who have always been behind me 100% and always will be. And, to give their laughter credit, I do see the humor in it. I probably haven't run since my gym teacher forced me to in school (where, by the way, I once failed the physical fitness test because I ran the mile too slow, and had to re-run it. I'm not sure if I passed the second time or if they just didn't want to watch me try to do it again). The last time I rode a bike I was 12, and even then I was taking a leisurely ride on my teal and pink bike through the neighborhood to hang out with friends. While I'm a comfortable swimmer, my aquatic history features mostly games of Marco Polo, creating whirlpools and lying on a raft with a book.

By my own admission, I am not an athlete and have taken to telling everyone that the athletic genes passed down from my parents skipped me and all went to my brother, a former Division 2 football player and member of the track team who has won more awards than I can remember, meaning he doesn't just play but he's good. While looking through our childhood scrapbooks one day not too long ago, we came across numerous field day awards in my brother's book- all first place awards, naturally. Maybe he once finished 2nd in the potato sack race, but that doesn't really mean anything since you're inhibited by a giant burlap sack. After flipping through my book for a bit, I finally spotted an award ribbon. Triumphantly pulling it out with a loud proclamation "Aha! I did win an award!", I flipped it over and realized it was a participation award. You know, the ones they give to kids so they don't feel bad about not actually winning anything.

Growing up, I hated gym class so much that remembering the feeling makes me a little panicky even right now. You do not want me on your team for any type of sport, unless it is badminton, the only "sport" in which I can pretty much hold my own. In high school they started a girls field hockey team- I went to the first meeting and realized I wasn't fooling anyone and never went back. Organized sports make me nervous. Running makes me feel like I have suddenly forgotten how to breathe and am not sure how to consciously make the effort. Biking for non-social reasons is foreign to me. Swimming in a lake makes me think of the fish at the summer camp I used to go to that bit everyone's toes, and that totally creeps me out.

So, now you see why my parent's laughter when they hear I'm going to be in a triathlon is not uncalled for. They just know me really well. After chuckling softly for a few seconds, my dad looked at me and said very seriously "You do know there's running involved in that, right?" I responded that yes, I knew what I was in for. He thought for a second and said "But we hate running." And it's true- neither my dad nor I are the type to go for a morning run, unless it's a coffee run, which of course doesn't actually involve running. And ultimately, my parents are just thinking what everyone else who knows me is thinking- why in the world did you decide to do a triathlon?