If the shoe fits....buy it

Take one look at me and you clearly see that I am a no frills gal. I love being comfortable.  And just like anyone, I dress up on occasion. Or should I say for an occasion. Weddings, dinner parties and date night. I have in fact gone to some events in jeans and heels. Well, not just jeans and heels. I mean I wore a top.  As if.

Anyway, I think wearing things that make you comfortable also make you feel confident. And confidence is sexy. Amiright?! The cute skirt with the 6 inch stilettos is sexy, don't get me wrong. Comfortable? Not so much for me..  But then again, I prefer comfort to awkward. You don't want to see me in any shoe higher than 3 inches. Trust me on that.

My everyday outfit is running stuff. Shorts if it's hot and a shirt. After my run and shower I switch out of the sweaty gear and into clean gear. Much easier since it requires some effort to pick out non running clothes. Plus it's comfortable.

Man, I suck at coming up with other words besides comfortable.  But what other words are there? Hold on..lemme check. *Googles comfortable* Cozy, snug, warm agreeable, pleasant.. There you go. But still not the same. Let me try a few in a sentence. 'My shorts felt snug. These socks are pleasant. My bed is agreeable '. See what I mean?! Not the same. Different.

Moving along. I will use comfortable many more times in the next few paragraphs. That's your warning.

I am not a shoe whore.  Let me just get that out there. My journey through the soles of many shoes is cause for concern. But I make no apologies. 

To all the shoes I left behind, you are not forgotten:

Nike Shox,  Nike Vomero,  Nike Air,  Mizuno, New Balance WT1010, New Balance WT101, Adidas, Puma, Brooks pure flow, New Balance  Minimus, New Balance WT810, Asics.

Sadly, it took all these tries to finally get it right.

A little over a week before my second half marathon I was shopping on Zappos for my race outfit. My mind was NOT on shoes, I swear! But as it turns out, I got sidetracked.  By.  Shoes.   Thanks to Zappos free next day shipping, my Altra Intuitions were at my doorstep seconds before I was headed out the door for my run. I read the informational and warning booklet quickly : allow time to adjust to zero drop..yada yada yada.  Laced up ... Wow! Preposterous!!  Ridiculous!  Ridiculously preposterous. 

These shoes.

Bloody hell. The voices were back.  #1: Do not even think about wearing those new shoes for your half. #2: What half?   #1: Quit playing. Don't do it. #2: It's only 13.1 miles. You'll be fine. Trust me.  #1: Don't trust anyone who says 'trust me'. Trust me. #2: STFU!        Great. Now my voices are rambling.

Just 2 miles into my half marathon, I was cursing myself. And all the people wearing the shoes they actually trained in. Damn you people for obeying the cardinal rule of new shoes. Damn you! 

I considered quitting. I couldn't imagine going another step, let alone the thousand steps that were yet in front of me. But I did. The whole time my calves were on fire. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I finished.  And with a PR no less.  But there I was laughing, yes laughing while my calves were screaming. 

Five months have gone by and I have since bought  2 more styles of Altras. Torin and Olympus. I am so in love with my Torins I bought two pair. I rotate the Olympus in with trail runs to keep my body injury free and my feet happy and 'cozy'.

No question that I will be bringing sexy back. To where I dunno.   Comfort = confidence= sexy. (Back- as in gluteus maximus-back)

If the shoe fits, buy it.

If it doesn't, move on. 

But more important, don't wear new shoes on race day.

Thanks for reading. **Bonus. I didn't use the word comfortable again.**
You're welcome !

Next up: I'm going streaking!

Training. Schmraining

Feels awesome to have a plan. I would know cause I've never had one. Well, not never. I had a plan once. My plan was to create a plan. That counts right?

I went to a dinner party a few years ago where some db was talking about how he didn't need to train for a half marathon. 'I could go run one tomorrow, with no training'.  Well, look at you, Mister fit and fabulous. More like mister ri DICK ulous.  Get. Over. Yourself.   Bitter? Me?!  NO!! Okay.. Well, just a smidge. At the time, I thought 'yeah whatever db'. Today I think 'yeah whatever DB'. Same, but different. (Capitalization on db)

Point of my story is that I believe everyone needs a plan. He probably could have gone out and ran a half marathon the next day. Was it smart to do that? Nope. At least I don't think so. Yeah, I know what you're thinking: 'You did a triathlon with no training'  AND I ALMOST FRICKIN DIED IN THE POOL. 'You also did a half marathon with little training.' AND I FELT LIKE I WAS GONNA DIE.  That which doesn't kill me makes me stronger bs is almost right. I like to say 'That which doesn't kill me makes me a smart ass'.  You know what I learned from those near death experiences?  That you are only as good as the effort you put in.  Commit with everything you have. Don't half ass it. Unless of course you have half of an ass. No. Not even then.

Lifestyle changes come as easy as spreading cold butter on toast. Unless the butter is soft, you end up with a piece of destroyed toast. But it doesn't deter you. You either eat the mangled toast, or get the butter  soft -not melted. Either way works, especially if you're starving and don't care.  But the difference is the approach. My approach, in short was to keep running and to find a healthy balance from a nutritional standpoint.    A ha!    A plan! 

Easier said than done.

My brain needed a break from all the nutrition books I was reading,  but I crammed one last book in. 'It Starts with Food' by Melissa and Dallas Hartwig.  No dairy, no legumes, NO ALCOHOL!! Say what?!!!  OK, well I'm not an alcoholic, but 30 days without a vodka tonic??!  Cray. Zee. The book strongly encourages you to get started immediately. That whole 'I'll start my diet Monday' is probably why.

After 30+ days of Whole 30, I needed a stiff drink AND squishy bread. (That was just the compensation effect talking). I didn't actually have the bread.  Just the drink. X2!  Smooth!  Removing everything that could potentially be affecting my body and then slowly reintroducing those same foods back in was a great start for me.  Caveman/paleo was just scratching the surface. I am not a devout caveman. I switch things up frequently to meet my running demands. Speaking of which....

You can have too much of a good thing. As it happens, I got a running injury. Bleh.  Runner's knee. First rule of run club, do NOT talk about running. No silly. Don't over do it. Do not increase your mileage too quickly or... Or you'll end up on the couch, eating bon bons and watching
The Young and the Restless.  Can I just say that missing one single episode causes lots of friggin confusion. Especially if they suddenly replace an actor with a different one. Oy.

Months went by and my routine was anything but routine. Not running was turning me into a certified biotch. I did what I could do to tame the beast, push ups, core workouts and weight training. Deep down, I was craving a run. More specifically, I wanted to race!  I set my sights once again on the Rock n Roll half marathon in Phoenix. (Jan 2014) Birthday 43!

So, it began.  'It' meaning training. Training schmraining.  Very careful training. I couldn't deal with another injury. With many resources out there, I read a lot of stuff. Like a sponge I absorbed everything I could get in my noggin and set out to move mountains. Well, not quite. But that's what the workouts felt like. Intervals, tempo runs and long runs combined with rest days. Four workout days. I  seriously never knew my body was capable of such things. W. T. F!!! <------ backwards is F.T.W!! That's right: For the Win! I mean who doesn't like feeling like a total badass.??!!! Even if it's just in your own mind.

The beauty of all of this was I was on my way to a second half marathon WITH training.

My plan :  proper training with proper training nutrition.

I knew nothing could stop me now....

Next up: If the shoe fits...buy it

Only half (crazy) marathon

My new found ninja status had me feeling all ninja like. I practiced that cool hand thing they do and wound up flipping somebody off. Totally unintentional. I swear. No more ninja hand gestures for me and no more power to my uncle's comment. Bye Felicia. Adiós. 

Do you hear voices in your head? No? Just me? Never mind.  Let me share with you the conversations we have. Me: I want to eat that pizza and cookies and chips and pie. Voices: Do NOT eat that crap. It's bad for you. Me: But I really want it. It tastes so good. Voices: Okay, eat it. I'll make you feel guilty later. 

Here comes guilt. Oh and look who tagged along.... Thunder thighs.  Awesome. 

I did the best that I could to tame those voices by trying to eat better. Nothing helped. Then I went to my source. My brain. There were some serious cobwebs in there. I cleared the cobwebs and hit the restart button again and again. A few more times adda. Do. The. Trick. 

I was looking for a lifestyle change. Not a diet. For most people, cutting out everything they enjoy is the ONLY way, for me it was sabotage. (Cue Beastie Boy's song 'sabotage') If I was going to change my lifestyle for good it was going to require some compromise.  Nothing radical. So, I went with what I knew.  I ate McDonald's just not super size. I had diet soda instead of regular. I ate fried chicken and removed the delicious crispy skin. (Salivating). 

At home I bought those cute 100 calorie snack packs. Sneaky marketing makes you think they're somehow 'diet'. They're not. Shocker.  (And genius)  So, if they're NOT diet..*scratches head*  what's the point!?!!   Portions, duh! My medulla oblongata was putting it all together. Finally!   My food choices didn't become healthier over night. It took a while to get there. But portions were easy to change. I ate one slice of pizza, not 3(or 5). I ate chips, not the whole bag. And so on. I started to see food in a different way. And because I saw it differently, I ate differently. Happy dance. 

Let me tell you about the word 'active'. It's way different than say 'exercise'. Just the mention of word makes me sweat. But active was gentler. Like exercise's little sister. I had to incorporate some sort of activity into my life. I knew I wasn't going to get up and start running and crazy stuff like that. I am crazy. But running?! Never. I knew I just needed to get up and MOVE. Period. Again, nothing radical. I popped in the tae bo and Pilates DVD and watched. Observed.

Then I DID something radical. I created my own workout. Called 'Tae Pilates'. Get yours today for a special price of 9.99. But WAIT there's more. For a limited time you can get my bonus DVD 'crunches, push ups and more'.  . .  Ok... The DVDs aren't real. I know you're disappointed. Sorry. 

Every single day for just 30 minutes I did my Tae Pilates workout with crunches and push ups.   'Activity'   The proof was in the puddin as I like to say. My body was transforming. Like a transformer but less obvious. But more importantly my inner being was changing. The real excitement came from knowing that I got to this point because my brain was using this formula : eat better (portions) + activity = lifestyle change.  Was this formula perfect? Nope. Far from it. I was eating less junk, but not healthier. Not yet. Small steps, Danielson. [Wax on. Wax off]

This is how it was for a long while. I tried not to change too much too quickly. At least that's what I told myself. Deep down I was missing home. My mom, my sister and all my family. But I kept to the formula. 

A year of living in the East coast was 365 days too many for me. There were positives though. We visited many tourist destinations. New York, Washington D.C., Atlantic City. Went to the ball park to watch the Phillies. And my kids met lifelong friends.  But now, we were homebound. For good. As I've shared my passion for moving in my previous post,  I'll spare you the details. 

Behold! The sight of our majestic Sandia mountains brought tears to my eyes. Home sweet home. 

After a few short weeks I had the need to visit the Dr.'s office. I got on the scale and I couldn't believe my eyes. 130 lbs! Holy crap!  I thought to myself 'what if I ate healthier AND stayed active?!' Mind blown! Honestly though, what if?

For me, the hardest part was over. Not the weight loss.  Remember that was the physical part. Mentally, I was on track. For the most part. 

Six months or so before my 40th birthday I decided I wanted to run a half marathon. Talk about crazy. Perhaps it was taking me a bit longer to adjust back to the altitude. Remember my triathlon adventure? Apparently my memory was suffering as well. I had not done any long distance running. Hell, I had barely done any walking. Yet, my mind was made up. Now all I needed to do was start running. So, I did. Wasn't easy. I managed a walk/run combo for a few weeks and gradually worked up to mostly running. But  still only managed HALF of a half marathon. What was I thinking? 13.1 miles? Yeah. Clearly in over my head. 

The months leading up to the half (crazy) marathon were November and December. Yep, holidays. Yep, food. Yep, busy times. Yep, yep and yep! Hubby took some vacation for the holidays and I in turn took a holiday from my running. Plus, I was enjoying the holiday family traditions. 

I eventually made it back outside to resume my half ass training plan. The race was fast approaching! Would I? Could I?! Should I?! I would never know unless I tried. A week before the race, when most people are tapering after a vigorous half marathon training plan, I was out to tackle 10 or so miles. Call me crazy. I would be happy to agree. 

On race day I prepared myself for the possibility of having to crawl the last few miles so I wore pants so my knees wouldn't get all scratched up. Then before I actually made it to my corral I had to pee like a hundred times. Didn't help that I drank 15 gallons of fluid the day before. Oh and the lines for the porta potty? 26k people racing and they have 10 pottys. Brilliant planning. 

Waiting in my corral I started to feel what animals might feel like in a corral.  All trapped next to other animals waiting for one thing. The signal to get the hell outta there. Who is the genius that came up with corrals for racing OR for animals anyway?  And yet there I was. Among my fellow runners. Elbow to elbow. Foot to foot. It was exhilarating, I won't lie. The lying would come later at mile 11. I kept telling myself that I wasn't going to die. That I would be OK. All lies I told myself. All lies. 

The great news is I didn't die. Obviously. The good news is I didn't have to crawl. But I was perfectly fine with doing it if I had to. I finished my first half marathon in 2 hours and 48 minutes.  I couldn't have been more proud of myself. Inside and out. 

The moment I crossed that finish line I knew that I would be back for more. Not to be better than anyone else, but to be a better version of me!

Next up: Training sucks

Sourpuss

First I would like to say thank you to my (expletive) uncle who remarked on my weight gain some 10 years ago. Would you have kept your rude comment to yourself, I never would have come to my own conclusion that I was 'fat'. NEVER.(sarcasm) I only have to look at my 5'1" self in the mirror daily. Birthing 2 children after all entitles me to carry some extra weight. For how long is up to me. No one is here to judge. Unless of course you're my (not so slim yourself,buddy) (expletive) uncle. He obviously is here to judge me. Obviously. 

The mirror never lies, right? I saw my reflection. My petite frame looked plump at best. Nothing wrong with it really. Yet, his words 'You got fat'. Stung. Bad. My yearly doctors appointment had me at 161 pounds and slightly high bad cholestrol levels. Dr. made her usual plea to eat better and lose a few pounds. Okay Doc. Sure thang (wink wink).  Did I believe my health was at risk from a few pounds and bad cholestrol? Not really. So, every year I made no changes to my lifestyle.    

Then that comment. Not under his breath. Not to someone else. To my face. I fumed, cursed and laughed. Again, laughing cures everything. Then,  just like lots of people I bought workout dvd's, home gym equipment and the like. Even attempted to eat healthier. I watched the videos, even got a few miles on the dreadmill and when I didn't see quick results, I quit. I quit before I gave it a chance. But more importantly, I didn't give ME a chance. It was a mental battle. One I wasn't ready to fight. Yet. 

Now with an impending move across the U.S. for my husband's job, I definitely had no time to focus on anything but moving. Can you relate to the ridiculousness of moving?! I mean packing every single thing. Not just my things, but everyone's things. There should be a rule. Leave your crap and just buy ALL new things where you're moving. If only.  
We moved from our home in the Great Southwest (and our families) to the East Coast. New Jersey. South Jersey. Exit 45.(Jersey joke). Laugh. It's funny. OK. Not really. 

But you know what IS funny? Moving across the country and having everything go wrong. Now that's funny. Funny in a 'what the hell are we thinking ?! ' sorta way. If the universe had been holding up a sign that said 'Get  the eff out of this place'  we missed it. Not like she didn't try and warn us. Housing market was inflated, hubby's job sucked and the humidity did nothing for my curls. (Ok that's not a sign really, but still) The first couple of months of hotel living wasn't so bad. We all felt like rock stars. Rockstars on the road. But without the groupies. And without fame. And money. So, yeah, nothing like a rock star. And. I'm. Rambling. Okkkkayyy.


In the end, we had two bad realtors with home deals gone bad. And the third one was a charm. Figuratively and literally. Thank goodness for him because I was on my way to crazy town. After months of living in a hotel, any home would have been thee perfect home. The day of closing was like a dream. Except for one last HUGE sign from the universe. What is that you ask?  I know you didn't ask. But I know you want to know. This crazy dumb bitch (not a female dog) ran through a red light and plowed into our car. Are you laughing yet?!  No. I know you're not. But WE were. Well not literally laughing, but I SO wanted to evil laugh right there in the middle of the road. In the rain. Did I mention it was raining?  Well played Mother Nature. Kudos universe. I hear ya.

We bummed a ride from our only friend the realtor who said 'hey guys if you don't want to go through with this (closing) I completely understand'. What a guy. He had been so patient with us after two bad realtors and he was willing to let us walk away. We should have ran.  Fast.  But instead, we stayed. For now.

What do you think all that stress did to me? If you said, 'make you an alcoholic'   You would be half correct. I'm not really a drinker. But when the dust settled, I had a few bottles of wine. In one night. For a week. Or two. KIDDING!  Only about the 2 bottle part.  No, really. Stress does a lot to your health. Some people lose weight when stressed. Me? I gain. Because I eat. A lot. At least I used to. 

After ALL that, I was in a fighting mood. If my uncle had been there, I would have for sure punched him. Or maybe just stepped on his foot. A few hundred times. 

The fighter in me had come out in full ninja mode. I was finally ready to tackle my weight. Not for my uncle. Not for my doctor. For ME. The RIGHT reason. Not because someone said I was I was fat. Not because I thought I was fat. Although it did bother me at first. It hurt my feelings. And it was rude. But you know what? I was over it. Sorta

Continued on next blog. :)

Bloggety blog!

So this is happening. I am blogging. I need to get over it. I mean do I really have that much to say? Probably not. I'll end up babbling about something irrelevant to running anyway. So, if I go in a different direction, bare with me. Running forces me to put one foot in front of the other and I eventually get somewhere. Get my drift? I'll eventually get to my point. Just may take you to the crazy parts first. Onward with this here bloggety blog.

To give you a bit of history, I was never in any sports growing up. Unless you count walking door to door asking people if they wanted firewood. During winter. In the snow. For miles. Without shoes, or water. Or food. Honestly, that last part is my dad's story. I've heard it so many times, it's now part of the story I tell. That's it.  Well, obviously not ALL of it. But I did say 'bit' of history. Not my life history. Sheesh. Moving on.

Back in the day people referred to running as jogging. And by people, I mean my dad. He still refers to it as 'jogging'. Yeah. Dad. I'm a jogger. And now a blogger. Go me! I once caught him saying that he went for a 'run'. My smart ass reply, 'you mean you went for a jog?'  Bam! He has never questioned my status again. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter whether you run or jog. I believe they're one in the same. Period. You are moving your feet. Point is, if you feel you're a runner, than you ARE a runner. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

My husband runs.     On occasion.    He used to be an avid runner before he met me. Marriage changes everything. I changed him into an occasional runner. Go me :(  Basketball became his thing for  while. Even baseball. He broke fingers, sprained ankles and jammed thumbs. But you can't keep a great man down. The man is a beast. And my inspiration. When he came home and said that he wanted to do a triathlon, I'm like what the eff is that?? After he explained it, I said 'Why?' Great support, right?! Ya. I thought he had lost his friggin mind. Swim, bike AND run? And they're charging you to do this??!!! Out of your mind I tell you.

For the next several months I sat and watched in horror as he trained. Running, biking, laps at the local pool. Pure torture. Why would anyone do this?? So I did what any person would do, I googled the hell out of that shit. I learned WAY more than I wanted. Chafing, chamois, wet suit, tri suit, gel, lube. You name it. I went from wife to full time coach. I still sat in horror, but I understood the horror now. Go me!   Through my binoculars and while holding my breath, I watched as he swam among the other crazies. That was the only time I got to see him in action. The bike and run course were through the rugged terrain and no spectators allowed. So I basked in the sun listening to others ramble. Just as I am doing here. The sun must have fried my brain after some time or maybe the lack of oxygen from holding my breath earlier because I almost forgot where I was. And suddenly there he was. Ta da! I wanted to cry, but I was dehydrated. So, I dry cried. No. Not fake cried. Nothing fake about it. Dry cry. Leave it at that. Okie dokie.

Maybe the lack of oxygen combined with severe dehydration caused temporary insanity, but I wanted to drink the crazy koolaid! In 2009 I signed up for my very first sprint triathlon. Unlike hubby, my training consisted of a few miles on the bike trainer, a few walks around the block and some wading in a pool. My bad. Thought I could 'get by' with the doggie paddle and back stroke. But what it probably looked like was the dead mans float. No joke.  I was completely exhausted from the effort of NOT drowning that the second leg of the triathlon was excruciating. Six miles into the bike part, I shouted to hubby 'I did NOT sign up for this!!' I was dying. He shouted back 'Ummm, yes you did'  Duh! Hubby, aka coach, aka cheerleader and now motivational speaker was pointing out the obvious. Awesome! And just when I  thought I had nothing left in the tank, I thought right. Slipping through the finish in just 2 hours I had so many emotions. I wanted to cry, but laughed. Wanted to scream, but laughed.  Wanted to punch someone, but laughed. What else is there to do after that? Laugh. It's good medicine after all. After I laughed, I cried. Not from joy, but from my chafed arse. Then I sat across the table from hubby and we had a beer. And a great big cheeseburger.  And then we laughed some more and called it a day. An epic day.




There you have it folks, my first ever blog. Were you bored? I was. Hope you come around for the rest of my crazy adventures.

Next up: Only half (crazy) marathon