This morning we woke up later than we had planned but decided to run anyway. We didn't head out the door until after 6:30, so we were cutting our timing close.
Our morning activity list included: 4.91 mile run, 1 hopefully-not-serious calf injury (Nick), breakfast for 5, showers for 2, lunches for 4, hairstyling for 3 including 1 set of french braids for school pictures, 6 reminders to brush teeth (2x per kid), 1 trip downstairs to ensure our eldest was awake, 1 dog to feed, 2 fish to feed, 3 sets of boots to find, 2 Thursday folders to take to school, 1 tie to tie (Big C wanted to wear a tie for school pictures), 1 changing of outfits after Dinky T discovered her dress was WAY too small, 1 realization that the snow was enough to need shoveling, 1 pot of coffee made, 2 glasses of nuun, 1 phone call from a distressed boss, 1 hurried kiss, 2 cars to drive 3 kids to 2 different schools, 1 trip back into the house for 1 forgotten lunch box, popping the trunk latch 5 times to add/remove items for school, 1 reconfiguration of kids in cars, and 17 reminders to "hurry".
I'm tired.
And I don't think it was the run. Our morning schedule does beg a few questions: Where do things like boots and Thursday folders go overnight? Why don't we have an "Alice"? Why do we run for 50 minutes in the morning? Why do I love my life so much?
Time for more finger pointing.
Guilty Party #4: Nick (Yes, honey, I am blaming you.)
The essential problem with Nick is that he is perfect for me. I am not sure I have ever met anyone as crazy as I am. I feel like making lists today, so here are the top 10 reasons why Nick is to blame for my running addiction.
1. He agreed to do body for life with me.
2. He tells me frequently that he loves me exactly as I am but will help with any goal I have to be healthy. This prevents me from resenting him because he is not supportive enough, "but I like chubby bubbies", or too supportive, "put down that donut fatso".
3. He is very handsome.
4. He likes to have bragging rights as much as I do, so the marathon is appealing.
5. He makes an excellent workout partner. He makes positive comments, talks the perfect amount of time, and tolerates my crankiness.
6. He taught me how to use free weights.
7. He is willing to wake me up in the morning, which is a REALLY unpleasant task. Trust me.
8. He is in better shape than I am and he runs faster than me. I am competitive so I push myself to improve my performance because secretly I want to beat him.
9. He carries the water.
10. He will run at -20.
Showing posts with label body for life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label body for life. Show all posts
Friday, April 3, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Finger Pointing, Part II
This morning Nick and I got up at 5:30 (yes, AM) and did "hills".
It was 23 degrees when we started and the cold was shocking at first. Funny how quickly we are spoiled by 30 degrees. We ran for a mile and a half at a warm-up pace, then sprinted up a hill for 40 seconds and walked back down (which we repeated 7 times), then ran the mile and a half back home at a regular pace. The first three sprints were not so bad, I actually made it farthest up the hill on the third sprint. The fourth sprint reminded me that I am not actually a runner. The fifth and sixth sprint left me gasping for air and thinking that it would just be much faster to put a plastic bag over my head and breathe deep. I have to admit that I only walked three quarters of the way down the hill to start the seventh sprint so that I could end at the top. The run home felt like I was dragging lead legs through the snow and across the ice.
And I loved every minute of it.
On my quest to answer the question of how I became a running nut, I continue to point the finger of blame on those around me. It is much more satisfying than self exploration.
Guilty Party #3: Gale
Around the time I was exposed to Body for Life and innocently compared to an exceedingly obese woman by my daughter, my mother's friend Gale came for a visit. Gale and my mom are old school chums. This means Gale is the same age as my mom which would be too old for me to mention without permission. Gale has better legs than I do.
Gale's legs are not to blame for my running, however. I blame her slide show. She had just returned from an absolutely fabulous trek through France - thirty days of WALKING an old pilgrimage trail with some companions.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Way_of_St._James
She had lovely photos of her trip as well as a montage of photos from a rafting trip she had been on recently in the states. Her plan was to rest at my parents for a week and then head off on another outdoor adventure. I enjoyed Gale quite a bit; she has a sparkling personality and is an amusing storyteller.
When Gale left, I couldn't help but think about retirement with Nick. We have both said we would like to travel and find adventure. I realized that retirement planning was going to mean a heck of a lot more than a 401k, IRA and stocks...hang on for the cheesy analogy...I was going to have to invest in myself.
Told you it was cheesy.
It was 23 degrees when we started and the cold was shocking at first. Funny how quickly we are spoiled by 30 degrees. We ran for a mile and a half at a warm-up pace, then sprinted up a hill for 40 seconds and walked back down (which we repeated 7 times), then ran the mile and a half back home at a regular pace. The first three sprints were not so bad, I actually made it farthest up the hill on the third sprint. The fourth sprint reminded me that I am not actually a runner. The fifth and sixth sprint left me gasping for air and thinking that it would just be much faster to put a plastic bag over my head and breathe deep. I have to admit that I only walked three quarters of the way down the hill to start the seventh sprint so that I could end at the top. The run home felt like I was dragging lead legs through the snow and across the ice.
And I loved every minute of it.
On my quest to answer the question of how I became a running nut, I continue to point the finger of blame on those around me. It is much more satisfying than self exploration.
Guilty Party #3: Gale
Around the time I was exposed to Body for Life and innocently compared to an exceedingly obese woman by my daughter, my mother's friend Gale came for a visit. Gale and my mom are old school chums. This means Gale is the same age as my mom which would be too old for me to mention without permission. Gale has better legs than I do.
Gale's legs are not to blame for my running, however. I blame her slide show. She had just returned from an absolutely fabulous trek through France - thirty days of WALKING an old pilgrimage trail with some companions.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Way_of_St._James
She had lovely photos of her trip as well as a montage of photos from a rafting trip she had been on recently in the states. Her plan was to rest at my parents for a week and then head off on another outdoor adventure. I enjoyed Gale quite a bit; she has a sparkling personality and is an amusing storyteller.
When Gale left, I couldn't help but think about retirement with Nick. We have both said we would like to travel and find adventure. I realized that retirement planning was going to mean a heck of a lot more than a 401k, IRA and stocks...hang on for the cheesy analogy...I was going to have to invest in myself.
Told you it was cheesy.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Finger Pointing
I think I should rewind and explain why and how Nick and I are currently running as much/as far/as fast as we are. If you are already a runner, our much/far/fast numbers are not that impressive...but if you are anything like the real me, the me that I was just over six months ago...then our numbers are insane, impossible, unrealistic and deserve some illumination.
Six months ago I would have told you that you had suffered a psychotic break and that you were living in an alternate world if you had even suggested that I would soon be training for a marathon, running 12 miles at a time, and averaging an 11 minute mile. I may have even jokingly asked you to put down/pass me your crack pipe. I was a chubby bubby who loved good food and good wine. I was dating a wonderful man who loved me exactly as I was. I enjoyed being active, but did not like exercise. I had no reason to change.
So why did I change? How did I become a running addicted, marathon obsessed, exercise loving nut case? A simple chain of events, some well meaning but still very guilty friends & family, and my competitive ego formed the perfect transformation cocktail.
Let's review who is to blame for the bizarre metamorphoses Nick and I have experienced.
Guilty Party #1: Gia
Before I point the first finger of blame for my current running addiction on Gia, I would like to say that I really like her. Gia and I became friends a year and a half ago, after I started dating Nick. She had been the best friend of Nick's first wife, Michelle (who died from cancer). The fact that Gia was nice to me and that we became friends says a LOT for Gia's character - I can't help but think I wouldn't be so nice if my best friend Denece died and her husband George brought over a new girlfriend. Generally speaking, Gia is a better person than I am. It's not hard.
Anyhoodle. So I am up at Gia's house and she has this book "Body for Life" by Bill Phillips. The book explains a 12 week food and exercise plan designed to dramatically improve your body. Gia is showing it to me because she is going to follow the program. I try to shield my confusion, because I think that Gia already has a fabulous figure...but who am I to judge? http://bodyforlife.com/
Guilty Party #2: Dinky-T
My youngest daughter wants to look at the book. Mr. Phillips is pretty slick, his book smacks of an infomercial. The inside cover is chock-full of before and after pictures. Testimonial after testimonial of how everyday fat people transformed their body into rock hard, muscle-bound, you-can't-find-any-cellulite superstars. And my sweet little baby looks up at me with those big brown six year old eyes and says, "Look mommy," as she points to an extremely obese woman's before and after photos, "she's a chubby bubby, and if she can do it, so can you, because you're a chubby bubby."
Ouch.
I swore I could feel my abnormally high self esteem wither and die like a salt soaked slug in a matter of seconds. Why is it that when I am fat I don't really realize the full extent of my girth and when I am thin I still see fat? Does anyone else have the same dually warped body image issues? Mirrors that lie in both directions?
Six months ago I would have told you that you had suffered a psychotic break and that you were living in an alternate world if you had even suggested that I would soon be training for a marathon, running 12 miles at a time, and averaging an 11 minute mile. I may have even jokingly asked you to put down/pass me your crack pipe. I was a chubby bubby who loved good food and good wine. I was dating a wonderful man who loved me exactly as I was. I enjoyed being active, but did not like exercise. I had no reason to change.
So why did I change? How did I become a running addicted, marathon obsessed, exercise loving nut case? A simple chain of events, some well meaning but still very guilty friends & family, and my competitive ego formed the perfect transformation cocktail.
Let's review who is to blame for the bizarre metamorphoses Nick and I have experienced.
Guilty Party #1: Gia
Before I point the first finger of blame for my current running addiction on Gia, I would like to say that I really like her. Gia and I became friends a year and a half ago, after I started dating Nick. She had been the best friend of Nick's first wife, Michelle (who died from cancer). The fact that Gia was nice to me and that we became friends says a LOT for Gia's character - I can't help but think I wouldn't be so nice if my best friend Denece died and her husband George brought over a new girlfriend. Generally speaking, Gia is a better person than I am. It's not hard.
Anyhoodle. So I am up at Gia's house and she has this book "Body for Life" by Bill Phillips. The book explains a 12 week food and exercise plan designed to dramatically improve your body. Gia is showing it to me because she is going to follow the program. I try to shield my confusion, because I think that Gia already has a fabulous figure...but who am I to judge? http://bodyforlife.com/
Guilty Party #2: Dinky-T
My youngest daughter wants to look at the book. Mr. Phillips is pretty slick, his book smacks of an infomercial. The inside cover is chock-full of before and after pictures. Testimonial after testimonial of how everyday fat people transformed their body into rock hard, muscle-bound, you-can't-find-any-cellulite superstars. And my sweet little baby looks up at me with those big brown six year old eyes and says, "Look mommy," as she points to an extremely obese woman's before and after photos, "she's a chubby bubby, and if she can do it, so can you, because you're a chubby bubby."
Ouch.
I swore I could feel my abnormally high self esteem wither and die like a salt soaked slug in a matter of seconds. Why is it that when I am fat I don't really realize the full extent of my girth and when I am thin I still see fat? Does anyone else have the same dually warped body image issues? Mirrors that lie in both directions?
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