Still Alive

I'm alive. Just thesis-ing, working and yes, running.

So close to setting a defense date I can damn near taste it.

I'll be back on the blog-o-sphere soon, just need to finish this draft.

Keep your fingers crossed for me folks.

Rant to Highland Square

Just because I need to rant...

OK people of Highland Square, I get that you have a dog, I have a dog too. I love dogs.

I get that it's cold and snowy in Akron during the winter, and I completely understand how much it sucks to take off your gloves/mittens in order to pick up your dog's poop, BUT - guess what folks...?

That poop you left in the middle of the snowy sidewalk back in January, IT'S STILL THERE TODAY. The snow doesn't make it magically disappear, in fact the snow preserves it - so today while trying enjoy the nice weather with Dobson, I get to see (and attempt to dodge) your dog's month old poop.

Thanks. Thanks a frickn' lot.

Grace

When my mom was a young girl she walked into a parked car, the whole incident was so bad they had to call the ambulance. I, unfortunately, have inherited her grace (or lack thereof.) As a child I took dance: tap, jazz and ballet. I danced for 10 years, and I loved ballet. I loved the repetition in practice, the grace and beauty in the movements. I wanted to be a ballerina, until one day I overheard my dance teacher talking to my mother, she said "Rosalie is so dedicated to dance, but she doesn't quite possess the grace needed for a recommendation to a ballet studio." Not to mention I was a chubby curly-headed short thing. I went on to dance for a few more years after that incident, but I focused almost solely on my tap dancing. My lack of grace has always been self evident. I have never pretended to possess physical grace, I learned to just stick to what I'm good at.

But now it seems this lack of grace has presented itself in a different light. Ever heard the expression "grace under fire?" I am starting to learn that again, I am not graceful. I used to believe I was good working under a deadline. In college I pulled magnificent all-nighters, I would even wake up early to get work done. I could carry an 18 credit course load and still end up on the Dean's list. Well my friend, life isn't college. Now that I'm teaching 3 courses at the University and planning a wedding and writing a thesis and training for a half-marathon I find myself far less graceful than I ever was at the barre.

As I get older I'm staring to figure a few things out. For instance, I can pursue any activity that I want, even if I'm not that good at it. As a child I figured if my dance teacher didn't believe in my ballet ability then why should I? As a runner I wouldn't qualify myself as "good." I don't win races, I'm not fast, running doesn't come naturally to me - but I still do it. As I get older I find that I believe in myself more and more.

There is still the issue of grace, I find myself flailing as I try to juggle all of my responsibilities. Like my mother, I feel as though I might just end up walking into a parked car while trying to do it all. But in the end I will persevere. I am determined to do it all, and to do it well. And maybe with some luck, I'll even be able to pull it off with a little grace!

The Power of Poop

Attention readers, if you intend to read this post, be advised it's long, graphic and deals with poop. Seriously. Don't say I didn't warn you...

I have an abnormal colon. It's redundant. What does this mean? My transverse and sigmoid colon are too long. See, I'm such an overachiever that my colon decided to be longer than normal! Too bad this isn't a good thing.

See, this is a normal colon. Mine doesn't look like this.

Last fall I went through some testing at the Cleveland Clinic to find out exactly what was wrong with me. I had always assumed I had an undiagnosed food allergy, or IBS maybe, something along those lines. Why did I assume this? Well, because I was always constipated. (Again, don't say I didn't warn you.) My whole life I've had issues going poop. The idea of being regular was something I never understood. I pooped maybe twice a week, if I was lucky. It was always painful, even as a child. I used to have to hold my mom's hand while I was on the toilet because of the pain. As I got older I just figured it was the way my body worked, simple as that. I never really considered that this problem was affecting my quality of life.

I had gone to doctors in the past, I was always just told "more fiber," or "more water," or "just use milk of magnesia when you're constipated." WTF? I've damn near bought out the prune supply at my local grocer, I've tried powdered acacia root, I've gone through the agony that is stimulate laxatives. Most items would work for about a week, then same old, same old.

I never considered really figuring out what was wrong until I starting running. I like to run, I like the sense of accomplishment. I have never hated my colon more than I have as a runner. A scheduled run is fine, so long as my colon is clear. Imagine being so backed up that it hurts to sit in certain positions, or so constipated that you have pain in your lower back from the pressure of your full colon pressing against your kidneys? I don't have to image this: I live it. All of a sudden, as runner, my life is being seriously affected by my colon. For example, last night I was all pumped to do some hill work. By the time I got home from work I was close to doubled over in pain. It's really hard to run with a severely backed up colon.

Now that I know what's actually wrong with me, I'm trying to make things better. For one, I was prescribed medication to help with my issues. Unfortunately, it's not really working. It helps a bit, but it always makes me feel nauseous and gives me headaches. I'm finding the side effects aren't exactly worth the nominal results. I've visited some on-line forums for people with the same issues, and it looks like a seriously restrictive diet (no red meat, no dairy, minimal gluten and easy on starchy foods) is the best recipe for my colon. That prospect is depressing as hell, but it might have to be my last resort. Certain herbal supplements work for me, but they have a very high rate of addiction - I don't want to go there. Some people swear by aloe vera latex, others take a daily spoonful of virgin coconut oil - these are options I am willing to explore.

So, why am I telling you this? For two reasons: First off, to get the word out about redundant colons. I wish I would have known sooner what was wrong with me. I felt a million times better when I realized I wasn't the only person out there dealing with this. And second, to ask for help. Have any of you dealt with an issue like this? I know it's a long shot, but it's still worth asking.

Ultimately, I want to get better. There is one other medication I can try, surgery is an option ( a colectomy) but I really don't want to go there. The thing is, when I wake up the morning of the Cleveland Half-Marathon, I don't want to have to worry about my colon getting in the way of my success.

So, dear readers, I thank you for staying with me through this post. Most people don't like to talk about poop, but just remember...

Ready to Go

This past week has been a monumental FAIL as far as scheduled runs are concerned. Last week I was hit by a string of seeming never ending colds, and just when I was feeling better the weather decided to snot all over me. I will run in snow, sure- why not? It's nice white fluffy stuff that Viper swears will make me stronger in the long run. But Ohio, being Ohio, decided that it was tired of snow, so the skies opened and gave us freezing rain. This delightful rain left a nice coating of ice on everything. I will not run on ice, I'm not that hardcore - hell, I'm just not that coordinated.

Alas, the rain/sleet/snow combo has come to an end, the skies are shining and it's a nice 7 degrees this morning. It's not supposed to break 23 degrees today, which means the ice will likely remain in most places. After work today Viper and I will hit the pavement (that will no doubt be under an inch of ice) for some hill work and a short run. I'm seriously looking forward to getting off my ass, my only fear: falling. So all of you out there, please keep your fingers crossed that I stay upright for this run!

Negative Nancy

I missed a run this morning. I had every intention of getting out there, but I got side-tracked talking to a neighbor. We let Dobson and Henry (our respective puppies) play in the snow together and I completely lost track of time. Admittedly, I could have fit in the run, it was only 3 miles. I told myself to get dressed for the run, but my ass stayed firmly planted on the couch. As the minutes ticked by I remained on said couch, fully aware that my window of time was passing.

Sometimes the gap between wanting and doing seems insurmountable.

I started getting down on myself: How am I going to run a half if I can't get my ass out the door?, How am I going to finish my editing this thesis draft by next week? How am I going to loose weight so I can look super hot for the wedding? How, how, how....??

And there she was in all her glory, Negative Nancy. Since the beginning of the year I've been thwarting all of Nancy's attempts to get into my head, and this morning I was unsuccessful. Her words stomped on my confidence and quite simply just put me in a bad mood. So now I'm in my office on campus (that I share with two other part-timers) writing this blog, listening to some Gwen Stefani trying to eradicate Nancy and her negativity.

While the bright bubbly sounds of Gwen Stefani help, I still need to find a way to get Nancy to stay away FOR-EV-ER. So fellow bloggers, I ask for your advice. How do you keep Negative Nancy away? When she does show up, how do you make sure the visit is nice and short? Any advice would be helpful, I have some hill repeats on deck and I need to kick ass!

Dobson likes the interwebs too!

Post Script:

I am aware that there are others in this blogging community who plan on running the Cleveland (Half)Marathon in May. Let me take this time to say that Viper and I would be thrilled to meet some of you folks in person! We're even thinking about brewing a special beer in honor of the event. :-D

"No, it's just pissing me off."

For those of you who have been following this blog it's no surprise that I've been training for the Cleveland Half Marathon. The Viper has been with me every step of the way, encouraging but tough- exactly what a good coach should be. I've surprised myself by being consistent and by maintaining high spirits on most of my runs. Running together has provided us with opportunities to talk about the wedding, on one such run I spent the whole first mile jabbering on and on about hydrangeas, roses, seeded eucalyptus, lisianthus and hypericum berries. The Viper was oddly quiet during that conversation, he may have perfected the art of running while sleeping. But needless to say, I really have been enjoying the company and the encouraging words - until last night.

My training plan involves running and cross training with no days off. This is not my norm, so there have been some growing pains. On Monday we ran 4 miles, and yesterday we were slotted to do a mile of hill repeats with a nice little warm up/down. The run was put off till later evening as we met with yet another photographer after work. Around 8 p.m. we finally got out the door, I went to activate my spiffy workout app on my super cool android phone, but the gps was not "initializing." Boo. I finally put the phone away, and the Viper and I took off down our street in the slushy cold mess. (We had some sweet freezing rain last night, awesome!)

We finally arrived at the bottom of the designated hilly street, the plan was to run the hill five times. Viper gave me some encouraging words and then we were off. The first time up Viper and I stood side by side, he was focusing on form and encouraged me to do the same. I tried. It was hard. We walked back down the hill and continued doing the same. My legs were on fire by the third pass. I was losing focus on form and just trying to stay upright without puking. Viper was all bouncy happy in his Vibrams going on and on about form and "picking up knees" and "blah, blah blah." By the fourth time up the hill I was really reaching for energy and motivation. I stopped at the top of the hill with my hands on my hips panting like a dog. I didn't want to do anymore. I looked at Viper, he was waving his arms expectantly, eager to do our last pass. He made it look so easy. I was getting angry. I mustered all my energy and joined him for the walk downhill. I turned to him and asked "Sweetheart, could you please not talk to me while we're running up the hill?" He replied, "OK, does it make you feel like you need to respond?" I had to be honest, "No, it's just pissing me off." He laughed.

So Viper, thank you for understanding.

Running is hard, but I'm not going to stop because of that. Even if at times, it pisses me off.

West Side

I am a West-sider. Have I ever mentioned this? Likely not. I am from a lovely southwest suburb of Cleveland called Berea. I am proud of my hometown. It was after all, the grindstone capital of the world. It also proudly boasts Baldwin-Wallace College (my alma matter) with its superior conservatory, musical theater program and overall attentiveness to the student. Not a fan of the arts, we've got football too. Ever hear of Coach Tressel? Yep, the Tressel family is from Berea. Not a Buckeyes fan? Well Berea's got this team called the Cleveland Browns. Heeeeellllllo Hillis.

Cleveland is a fine city. As stated earlier, I am from the west. It seems in Cleveland the division between east and west is pretty stated. West-siders dislike venturing into places like Lyndhurst, and east-siders wouldn't be caught dead in Rocky River. Each respective "side" disdains the other. I don't know why, I don't question it. It's just the way it is. So with this awesome logic I am always proud to tout the fact that I am from the west side. But to be fair, Cleveland as a whole is a pretty kick ass place.

So, why is Cleveland so special. Lots of reasons. I'll give you a few gems.

1.) West Side Market: This market has been doing its thing since the 1840's! You want it, they got it. A trip to the market wouldn't be complete without some pizza bagels, homemade pierogis, a poppyseed roll and some smokies.

2.) Malls: So this might not appeal to everyone, but the west-side suburbs have the sweetest shopping. Though none of the west-side malls have a Saks or a Nordstroms, ( I can't afford that stuff anyhow) they basically have everything else. Southpark, Great Northern and Crocker Park are the stuffs that shopping dreams are made of. *sigh*

3.) The Cleveland Metroparks Zoo: I LOVE the zoo. I have some amazing memories from the zoo. It's a fairly decent sized zoo that's just a good time to walk around. It's currently under some serious construction, (making way for a mighty big elephant habitat) but it's still sweet. They even has a Rainforest in it's own geodesic dome. It's 80 degrees year round in there, a nice pick me up in the middle of winter if I don't say so myself!

4.) A Christmas Story House: Interested in seeing "the soft glow of electric sex?" Yes ladies and gents, the movie A Christmas Story was indeed filmed in Cleveland. You can still see the house (as it's been restored to all its movie magic glory.) Most of the outdoor scenes were actually filmed either in downtown Cleveland at Public Square or in Cleveland's Tremont neighborhood.

5.) Beer: Yes folks, Cleveland has lots of beer. Local breweries include the GLBC, Cornerstone Brewing Co, Rocky River Brewing Co, The Brew Kettle, and Fat Head's Brewery just to name a few.

6.) Lake Erie and the Cuyahoga River: So maybe the river did catch on fire once, but seriously the lake and the river make parts of Cleveland quite picturesque. There are cruise boats (with varying degrees of kitsch) that take you around and show you a good time, like the GoodTime III and the Nautica Queen. On the lake front is Cleveland Browns Stadium (watch out kickers, the wind can be wicked), the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the Great Lakes Science Center. Not to mention, it's a great place to be proposed to. :-)

7.) CMA: Just click on the link... it really speaks for itself.

So, I could keep going, but I'll stop. Cleveland is full of good times. The food scene is progressively getting super awesome. (Thanks Michael Symon.) There are fun neighborhoods and each suburb has a unique personality with something to offer.

Cleveland proper is a beautiful city with some fantastic examples of american architecture. There isn't a day of the year that wouldn't be a nice day to take a stroll around Cleveland, and I'll always stand by that statement.

The point: While I do like to simply exalt my hometown, there is a more specific reason for this blog. Yesterday I was lamenting my weight gain and general laziness when I did something a bit hastily. I busted out the debit card, got me to the internets and signed up for the Cleveland Half-Marathon, after all - the route does go through the west side. ;-)

I ran this morning. For the first time in a month.

Oh, and all you readers gearing up for Cleveland - hit me up as I can definitely promise to show you Cleveland's best!

Sometimes...

you just need a little pick me up.

Finding my Enthusiasm

I know I stopped posting. Why? Because I had lost my enthusiasm. How could I be the Enthusiast without it?

I didn't want to run.

I didn't want to work.

I didn't want to edit my thesis.

I was a blob of frustrations and self-deprecating behavior, I was eating McDonald's way too much and not moving at all. I stopped caring.

Without going into psychoanalytical mode, let me just say that I've had problems like this in the past, but I thought that was all behind me. I was wrong. Sometimes, when you're a type A, an overachiever, a "the best" type - you stop thinking about all the good you can do, and focus on all the other things you're not accomplishing. I was stuck thinking about the latter and it was paralyzing me. I had lost my mojo.

I had to find it. (Yes bloggers, I am an Austin Powers fan.)

With Ohio fall proving to be beautiful as always, I used nature to help get me out of my haze. (read: Thoreau) I decided that since all the encouragement from my loved ones (read: Viper) was falling on deaf ears, I had to find my mojo for myself.

Ultimately, it was a whole plethora of events that brought me back to my mojo. Lately I've been feeling that urge, that something, the drive that makes me go and today, my friends, today I found my mojo. Everything just felt right, the nagging voice in the back of my head was gone and I was ready to take on the day will full vigor, with ENTHUSIASM. Today I worked out, ran, ate right, taught the hell out of my classes. Today for the first time in a really long time I feel confident. And it feels damn good.

Moving forward I have two major goals:

1) Finish my damn thesis!

2) Get myself into great shape, I'm getting married in less than a year!

I leave you all with this little gem of Hollywood. :-D

What's black and blue... ?

and embarrassed all over? Me.

For this I have to back pedal. Last week Viper and I headed out to the bike and hike trail in the Summit Metroparks. He was aiming to log his longest/fastest run barefoot. I was aiming to be course support on the bike. We started and immediately there was a hill. I hate hills on the bike. I was ready to just walk the bike up- but then a sudden urge on inspiration came over me - I was going to own that hill. I got my momentum going, got out of the seat and went to shift when the panic set it. I totally utterly and completely forgot wether or not my left thumb or my left index finger would shift me down. Fuck. I was so out of practice with gear shifting and so overwhelmed by my enthusiasm in taking the hill I drew a blank and shifted up, more panic followed by a rookie mistake, a too quick downshift.

The result.

Me, pedaling faster than hell on the steepest part of the incline out of my seat with my chain helplessly off the gears. I don't know much about physics, but I 'm sure there's some law that could explain the inevitability of my falling. (Or is that just gravity?) My right calf slammed against the pedal as I did everything in my power to stay upright.

The result.

Two very nasty bruises on the inside of my right calf.

Wait - it gets better.

This past weekend while in Fort Wayne Dobson and I were out to enjoy a leisurely walk on the Rivergreenway. My goal was to walk from the trial head to the old fort in the city. I knew Dobson would be up to the challenge so we set out as Viper was aiming to do his 20 miler. All was well, the Dob and I passed points of interest (who knew a water treatment plant could be such a fine example of American architecture) and finally made it to the fort. I was disappointed when I got there for two reasons: 1) the bathrooms were padlocked shut and Dobson desperately needed water, 2) and there were no historical placards in sight. There's nothing worse than being in a historical sight and not being able to read up on why it was so damn important. We turned around, eager to finish the walk.

About a half mile in a biker whizzed past us from behind and Dobson was startled, he jumped and his head hit the outside of my left calf. I felt an odd sensation at that moment. Pressure followed by intense pain. I looked down and saw a blood-filled bump on my calf about the size of a dime. I kept walking and the pain got worse, my calf felt as though it were on fire - the next time I looked down the dime sized bump has literally turned into the size of a golf ball. SHIT. I had a huge visible clot of blood on my calf. The skin around the whole calf was dotted red and the bump was growing in size. I was in the middle of a long stretch of scenic pathway and I was getting scared. I called Viper, but I knew he wouldn't answer - he only turns his phone on to call at the turnarounds. I left a panicked voicemail. I'm not a doctor. Was it a blood clot? Did a vein burst? Was this thing going to travel up my leg and kill me? ( A bit extreme, I know, but I was scared.) The bottom line, if I walked it hurt and got bigger. So I stopped walking. I called my future sister-in-law and explained the situation. Within the next 20 minutes future father-in-law and sister-in-law were at my side getting Dobson and I situated in the makeshift ambulance.

In the meantime Viper called to let me know he was at his turnaround (unaware of the voicemail) and I'm sure I gave him one hell of a shock. I knew he was too far out to be of any timely help and I didn't want him to feel helpless so I finally told him just to finish his run. In the ambulance we headed home to coffee, homemade pancakes and sausage. (Much better than any ER.)

The result.

I still don't quite know what the thing on my leg is. My mom has a history with stuff like this, she told me it was burst blood vessel and that it will eventually go down and turn into one hell of an ugly bruise. If I see red lines or if it migrates I need to haul ass to the hospital. If anyone knows better - let me know. :-)

I have to very bruised and sore legs now. I feel rather silly and embarrassed when I look down and see so much black and blue. Here's to hoping for cooler, long pants weather.

Totaled

It's been forever since I've posted. I know. Why, you ask? Life. Half-marathon training? Nope. Working? Yes. Thesis-ing? Sorta. Prepping for my now three (previously two) courses this fall? Not really. Recently finding out my Art History II courses at different campuses (at the same university) are using different books? Undoubtedly. Getting ridiculously excited for the wedding? Yes'sir.

I haven't posted because I just haven't felt all that enthusiastic about anything lately, aside from wedding plans, and who wants to read a wedding planning blog, really? This summer is almost over and I've accomplished just about nothing on my list of things to do. I am determined to graduate this fall, but with three courses on my plate and prepping for two of them as first-time courses my confidence is wavering. I stopped training for the half when it stopped being fun. I started dreading every day on the calendar that had a small circled number in the corner "to run." Anxiety would creep into my muscles when I would realize after a 10 hour work day that I was supposed to go home to work on the thesis stuff and run. The reality - it wasn't going to happen.

I beat myself up over all of it for quite a while. I didn't understand why I couldn't be more productive. Why couldn't I work, run, prep for classes and work on a thesis? I had a really hard time understanding what was wrong with me. My enthusiasm was gone and I felt defeated.

Then it happened - the unpredictable.

I was on my way into work on a Monday morning, dazed, tired and in no mood to be getting off the highway. I wasn't paying close attention the the queue of cars in front of me waiting to merge onto the exit and then - THUD. My head was looking left, my car was facing right and my front bumper had shoved itself into the rear end of a small s-10. "Shit, I just got into an accident." An old man emerged from the small truck, looked at the damage and took out a cell phone - he documented the damage. Meanwhile all I could think about was the long line of cars behind us waiting to exit the highway. The last thing I wanted was to hear about my idiocy over the radio traffic report. Finally, we pulled into the nearest gas station and assessed the situation. Not too bad, his car looked much worse than mine. I went to my folk's place (since they live closer to my work than I do) and started with the insurance stuffs.

Long story short. My car was totaled. Apparently the force of impact shoved around the inside parts of my car - a.c. was done, radiator was cracked - in the end, it would have cost more than the 2000 Hyundai Elantra was worth to fix it.

The Viper and I are just getting our bearings as a financially responsible young couple so I spent days stressing over the car, wondering how we could afford a new car, feeling silly for having gotten us in this situation. He was my rock, he reassured me we would figure things out and not to worry. I tried, but let me tell you- trying not to worry can be pretty damn stressful.

Then I let go. My family stepped in with amazing generosity and I realized that life happens. We don't have control - really. I plan, I organize, I stress and I put ridiculous amounts of pressure on myself to perform extraordinarily well. And for what? Success? Success by who's measure? Mine? Yours? My advisor's? My parent's? (See where I'm going with this....)

I wear the pollyanna hat best, I just need to don it again. My new goal. To be enthusiastic about what I pursue. Simple. Easy. Stress free.

New Slang

It's beautiful out there today, and I might add, it was a lovely day for a short run. With some perfect tunes I geared up (somewhat reluctantly) and hit the pavement in my neighborhood. My training went from awesome to non-existent last week. But this week I was hell bent on getting back out there. So far - eh, kinda good.

I got out there Tuesday with Dobson. I took him to Sand Run- that was interesting. The hills of Sand Run are usually enough to get me down within my first mile, but when you have a 70 pound ball of fur on the end of a rope zig-zagging you around the trail you don't notice the hills so much. I still don't exactly know how the run went, it was sporadic, crazy and consisted of lots of "good boy's" and "watch me's!"

I was supposed to run a recovery on on Wednesday. That didn't happen. I did it today. (So much for recovery.) I plan on picking up and not missing any miles for the week, but that means back to back days of running, something my body is not used to. Regardless, I need to get back on track. I got myself into this pickle...

The long weekend ahead thus far looks to be packed full of bbq's, family, friends, running, biking and hopefully - relaxing poolside.

Everything looks better with an engagement ring on your finger...

every outfit
every purse
every can of Coke Zero
every curling iron
every dirty dish
every pen (I am a lefty after all...)

And ultimately, every time I think about my future, it looks much better knowing I'll always have my man right there with me.

(For details, click here)

And I love you, my dear.

Murderers, Rapists and Ribena

As you all may be aware, my training has been going pretty darn well. I've had to slide some training days around to accommodate my schedule, but I'm getting the miles in and that's the most important part.

What you are not aware of is what happened this past Saturday on the towpath. Viper explains "Saturday night was a seven-miler at race pace (8:54 pace) with the Enthusiast biking." What he does not explain, is well - the whole story.

We left late to get in our respective runs/cross training. I had pooped out on a run earlier in the week and was committed to getting in the mile I lost in a not-so-awesome attempt at running mid-day. (Damn humid Ohio summers.) The plan was simple: Viper would run my first half mile with me, I would turn back to finish my full mile, jump on my bike and catch up to the Vip. As all of this was happening the sun was slowly setting. Picturesque, JMW Turner-like, right? Wrong.

After I got my bike off the car and make a quick pit stop at the latrine (smelly!) I began at a nice steady pace on the bike to meet up with my man. The sun was sinking over the corn fields of Szalay's and then - BOOM. DARKNESS. I could hear birds, feel the crushed limestone under my wheels but I COULD NOT SEE A DAMN THING. The backlight on my bike computer pooped out at some point while in storage (read: sitting in the exposed shed all winter) and I had no idea what time it was, how far I had gone or how long I had been on my bike. I began to panic. Where was Viper? I mean the woods is where all the murderers and rapists hang out. I could be dashing right past his dismembered body and not even know it. I tried to do the math of where we would meet on the path in my head but sheer panic is not conducive to figuring out math in my simple artsy head. I was surrounded by blackness and I had, honest to God, never been so afraid in my whole life. I just kept peddling faster and faster, when I would feel a twinge in my leg I would down shift my gears. I was freaked and flying on the bike.

Now, I know some of you must be thinking, "C'mon lady, it's not that scary in the park at night." And for some of you, I'm sure it's not. But I grew up fearing the park, trails and wilderness at nighttime. My mother always warned be about those murderers and rapists. But the scariest part of all was not knowing where Viper was, he was on foot and my skewed math had told me I should have met up with him long before I actually did...

Panic. Panic was consuming all of my thoughts. I think I might have actually been whimpering at one point. Then finally, finally - I found Viper. He was alive - and well. I was so relieved to see him I just lost it right then and there on my bike. We rode/ran back at a nice pace but admittedly even with the Vip there, I was still quite relieved to finally see the turn off for our trail head.

In the end I learned a few very important lessons on Saturday night.

1) I'm a big wimp when it comes to being in the dark.

2) Never go running/biking in the park when it's dark again.

3) Stop watching CSI, Unsolved Mysteries, Cold Case Files, Forensic Files, etc...

FAST FORWARD

Yesterday I did my long run. My legs were still sore from my biking frenzy on Saturday night so my coach came with me for the much needed encouragement. I did four miles with a route that introduced me to The Bastard Garman Hill. I killed the hill. Seriously. And Viper, he was always a step or two behind as I climbed to my glory. I know he could have vaporized me on that hill, but he didn't. Now that my friends - that's love.

And finally - Ribena. Much thanks to Xenia for sending me the BEST care package ever. I mellowed out last night with my Ribena, but not before sharing with Dobson. :-D

Doin' It

Well folks, I'm doing it.

My training is going really well, the running is getting a tad easier and I'm actually kinda sorta for reals enjoying it.

I'm still having issues finding the best way to cover my bottom half. I am pear shaped and I cannot wear running shorts unless I want them to ride up my crotch the whole time. My New Balance Bonita Run Skirt has seriously been a life saver, as it covers my ass wonderfully. The only downer, I need to wear capri tights under it, or else the shorts underneath ride up. The issue: it's HOT in Ohio right now, and super humid. My goal: A pair of running tight shorts, knee length or so, to wear under the skirt. (Could this get any more complicated?) I'm a girlie girl, I like skirts and cute tank tops and bright colors - can I help it if I want to look super cute when I'm out there sweating my ass off? ;-)

In other news, the job is settling down which means I need to get my ass in gear prepping for next semester. I'm teaching a new course in the fall and have yet to get that ball rolling. Now that I've literally got my ass in gear I need figuratively shift it into an art history gear, and fast.

Oh yeah, and that thesis thing. Need to finish that. Right.

Inner Monologue

A trip into my head during a run... it's not too scary, I promise.

(For those readers in foreign lands that can't access youtube links, this is No Doubt's In My Head, from their Rocksteady album.)

"Damn, It's already 7:00 pm and I have to run 3 miles today.
The Viper will get all bad ass coach on me if I don't get my run in before he gets home from the banjo jam.
Oh, I'll wear my new capris. I hope they don't suck.
I wonder if all girls have as many issues as I do finding running shorts/skirts/capri's that work?
I have such wide hips it's ridiculous.
I lost 2.2 pounds at my weigh in this week, so that's good.
But I gained 1.8 the week before, so really I only lost .4 - hell, that's still good. It's something.

Will I get faster as I get slimmer?

I hope I do at least a bit.


Out the door. I usually feel more motivated once I get going.
I'm going.
I'm not motivated.
Damn, my right ankle is twitching funny.
Will I have to stop? (That would be kinda nice though, not having to do this today...)
But no, the ankle is fine - just adjusting.

Shit. These capris SUCK.
Holy wedgie and camel toe.

Dammit, I have to run down Merriman like this.
All the rich people will point and laugh at my massive wedgie issue from their gigantic home windows.
They'll think to themselves 'Poor girl, she can't afford a trainer, personal chef and liposuction.'
They'll pity me.

I can't wait to turn down a side street.
Thank you God, side street is here.
Why is this run so hard today? This whole week has been hard.
My coach has worked me.

Tuesday I ran, Thursday I ran and did strength, Saturday I biked for 30 minutes.
The bike ride was tough. Been since September or so since I've been on the bike.
My ass hurt and my thighs burned.

No wonder my legs feel like lead.
I haven't been this active since I trained for my first 5k in Nov of 2008.
I was so motivated then. I remember the first time I ran over 2 miles, I was on vacation with Viper in Cooperstown, NY.
I ran along Lake Otsego.
Damn, I could go for some Cooley's wings.
That was such a beautiful morning, the sun rising over the lake, smoke on the water, rolling hills - it was marvelous and I was so excited.

I need that kind of enthusiasm again.
This is hard.
Running is hard for me.
When will it get easier?
Will it get easier?
I've taken so many walk breaks this is crazy.
I suck.
No, you don't suck. You're out here - that's all that matters.

SHIT - TURKEY SAMMICH COMING BACK UP!!!
That was close, I honestly didn't know if that was burp or barf coming up.

Lame, only 2.5 miles in and I almost yack.
Quit getting down on yourself! This is your first week of training in forever!

Almost home.

Just dig deep, finish strong.

Damn, is it 'walk your family down the street day' in our neighborhood.

Stupid wedgie pants.

Oh well.

Home is in sight.

Kick it in.

Done.

Damn.

That felt good."

I Don't Like Running

Well, I may have done something very stupid the other day. This being said - here's the back story...

I got inspired at my last Weight Watcher's meeting. The topic of "activity" came up. (WW doesn't like the word exercise for some reason.) My meeting leader basically said we become active for one of two reasons. Reason 1: We actually like the activity we do, i.e., dancing with some Zumba, relaxing with some yoga, hitting the trails on your bike, etc. Reason 2: We don't necessarily like the activity, but we like the reward. I guess I never really thought about it that way. I realized the reason I bike: I like it. The reason I run: I like the reward.

The other integral event in this story, the Tallmadge 5-K Memorial Run. I'm used to going to races to watch the Viper run. But this run was different, a friend of mine who popped out a baby less than a year ago ran. She wasn't a runner, she hadn't run before her pregnancy, she just did a couch to 5k program. She ran, she finished and she was very happy. It reminded me of how I felt when I started running - the sense of immense accomplishment from hitting one mile for the first time, then TWO and so on... Something inside of me was stirring, my word - was it MOTIVATION?

After all this my head was wondering, "Could I run a half-marathon?" I never thought I could run a 5-K, but I did. I bounced this idea off Viper, he had nothing but the utmost confidence in me. That's when I realized - "If he thinks I'm so damn able, then let him be in charge of this whole endeavor!" Hence, a coach is born.

So, this is where I am. I am in Akron, with my man, coach, Viper (Note: We are not married, we live in sin. Hopefully, this will change. ;-o ) I have no real idea why I'm doing this but I just feel like I need to do this. I will run the Akron Half Marathon and I will finish. Damn skippy.

I leave you all (and myself) with some happy words of motivation from Marathoning for Mortals.

Who you can be doesn't depend on who you have been.

And a cute pic of Dobson.

Jiggles

Erm...

Yeah....

So... um.... right.

I don't really know where to begin. I got a new job to supplement the teaching and it's been taking up a LOT of my time. Life has been, well- life. It's been crazy and a bit overwhelming. My enthusiasm for any kind of activity has seriously waned.

So what now? I purge. (Not barf.) And look to you (the blogging community) for support and advice.

First off. Feeling jiggly. (Not as in Jell-O Jigglers) I've always been a curvy lady. Usually my curves are just right, nice and feminine and I feel good swinging my hips in a well fitting pair of jeans. Not so much of late. My most recent runs have taken a toll on my ankles and admittedly - when I get out there I just feel jiggly. I feel like I'm moving in slow motion (I'm slow - but not that slow), and it's like my my body is just a mass a rippling fat rolls. Now, I know I'm exaggerating, but ladies I know some of you can back me up on this - sometimes it really does feel like that. Ya know? A recent trip to the scale and a panic attack over an ill fitting pair of jeans induced me to take some serious action. I am now enrolled in Weight Watchers (I've done it before, so I know it works) and I've lost 6 lbs. to date! :-D I am ready to attack the beast that is hunger and emotional eating. I want the jiggles to go away.

Secondly. I don't really want to run. I feel big and slow, I feel like I need some other form of activity to hold my interest for now. I have history with my super awesome mountain bike and a well worn tennis racket, but my motivation is - ZERO. I need help, I need to find my enthusiasm. Someone please challenge me, give me some great motivational speech, threaten my, call me names - ANYTHING!

I thank you in advance for all of your help.

Seriously. I need help.

Thanks!

"Ouch, my ass hurts."

So, where have I been? Working 2 1/2 jobs. I am still teaching two art history courses, but I recently have been hired by the US Census Bureau as an enumerator. To add to that hot mess, I just recently did some intensive interviewing for an office manager/reception position. I got the job, wooohooo, and that starts full time on Friday. So, needless to say between teaching, enumerating (gotta love the gov't - why can't they just say "counting?") and interviewing, things have been kinda nuts.

But this weekend I finally managed to get a run in - and for some crazy reason I thought trail running sounded like a good idea. The Viper, Martini and I hit up O'Neil woods on Sunday.

Now, I have to preface all of this by admitting that I got my woods/trails mixed up. There are so many different woods and trails in our area, I honestly though we were going to a trail that I had hiked before -- I was wrong. It wasn't until The Viper informed me that we were driving with Martini, since he didn't know where the trail was, that I realized, "Oh shit - I've never been to this trail before." And about a half a second after that realization The Viper continues to inform me that "Martini says this trail is really hilly." If Martini thinks it's hard - then damn - I'm screwed. This is the guy who actually places in races and stuff. I was already worried about slowing the boys down, but now it was inevitable. But being quick on my toes, I decided that Dobson would want to come. I could blame my ridiculous pace on the dog! :-D

We got out there, Martini lights years ahead, and The Viper, Dobson and I began to run. I like the feel of the dirt under my shoes, so much nicer than pavement. The trail seemed nice enough at first, then - THE STAIRS. You try holding onto an eager 60 lb puppy while running down a seeming never ending series of staircases. I did not like this portion of the trail - running down stairs sucks. But then things leveled out, the scenery was nice with a babbling brook to boot. I had to seriously pace myself and walk when I needed to, but I was determined not to flake out, I had to really try. Going back uphill was a bitch. The hills were steep and at times gravity really pissed me off, but I ran up every hill (though the last being so steep you're practically forced to walk near the summit.)

I did one loop, was grateful for The Viper and his encouraging words. After some much needed hydration I sat in the grass with the Dob and relaxed. After another loop with Martini, The Viper joined me in the cool grass. We waited for Martini.

I felt good about myself, I got out there and really worked hard. The entire car ride home was I was reveling in my accomplishment until I started feeling twinges of pain near my ass. Odd, I thought. I got out of the car once home and the first words out of my mouth, "Ouch, my ass hurts!"

Today, the ass not so much, but my calves sure are screaming.