tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5235416790382665192024-02-21T02:58:27.790-08:00Walk of shame to 6am long runIllanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04444864520609808345noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523541679038266519.post-80426065607484308742011-12-05T11:32:00.001-08:002011-12-05T16:53:56.287-08:00Recovery: 26.2 miles equals 35 days in my world<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today I am wrapping up my "one day for every mile you ran" recovery plan hence, the 26.2 miles equals 35 days in my world, and daydreaming about all the great things I did during that time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like a good girl I followed up MCM with TWO HUGE glasses of chocolate milk. First one because they say it is good for recovery and second one just incase. Chocolate Milk may not have picked me (meaning I don't have enough friends to vote for me) but, I picked chocolate milk... happily. I take recovery seriously and I think it is just as important as preparing for the race… as do I think the six pack of beer that cames with the milk is important. Heehee. Needless to say by the end of the day I wasn’t feeling much pain. I unfortunately cannot say the same for Monday morning. It is interesting to see the different hobbles/dragging/in need of a wheelchair/crawling and/or walks people do after a big race, in fact any race. I apparently have the zombie walk. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Put left foot forward and bring right foot to meet left foot. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At some point during the day it changed to put right foot forward and bring left foot to meet right foot. </span></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">(I think I was running like that too)</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the most part I recovered pretty well. Wednesday night was the only time I was concerned. I went to bed shivering uncontrollably. The Thursday after the race was the first day I went out for a recovery run, only 2 miles, and it felt fantastic. I wish I had done it sooner. Don’t get me wrong things hurt but nothing was broken thankfully. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As for the parts I am daydreaming about:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With MCM so close to Halloween I came to terms with the idea that I would not be doing anything for Halloween... that was my first mistake. Covergirl decided for us that we were going to dress up (3in heels for me, 6in heels for her) and get our groove on. Second mistake was wearing a wig… I don’t recommend it if you plan to go buck wild on the dance floor. There are other things I wouldn’t recommend from that night but I think my father reads this. So just use your imagination… chances are you are right or close. And I am not saying almost getting arrested by a very attractive cop who wouldn't let me back in the club had anything to do our night out either. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two weeks after the race I hopped on a plane to <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Huntsville</city> <state w:st="on">AL</state></place> to be the Maid of Honor at my best friends wedding.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> <em><span style="font-size: x-small;">(There are no words to describe how much I love this girl)</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Nothing like putting a non-religious, girl that has lived most of her adult life in New York in Bible Belt southern hospitality central and tell her to be focused on getting the job done.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pretty sure I didn’t make many friends while I was there but I did however make sure the most important thing happened... come locust, hell or parted waters. D and Mgirl were going to say “I do”. And they did. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sidenote: If you are not the crying type or don’t want to be the crying type… don’t go to a wedding that is completely and utterly drowning in love. Sobbing mess the entire ceremony. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alabama</place></state> was actually a great place to go run, believe it or not. A couple of times that week I came face to face with this: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> It was glorious. Do you see how the sidewalk ends in the middle picture...its like they knew nobody would go up that hill by foot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Many folks in the house were glad I went running… apparently I am a little high strung and needed an outlet. Southerner’s don’t do high strung. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A day trip with running group that involved no running for me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During my recovery month I celebrated my birthday which was nice and low key just like I wanted it to be. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I also set out for a trail run race, Turkey Burnoff in <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Gaithersburg</city> <state w:st="on">MD</state></place>,with a fellow running buddy and dear friend. It was all on paved road in a park. </span></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">(I am back there somewhere)</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was slightly disappointed however, the rolling and rolling and rolling hills made me forget I was disappointed. This race was a loop which the 10 milers had to do twice. I would be lying if I said I didn’t consider just crossing the finish line after first loop. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"> <em><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Totally raced ahead of him so it would look like I was in the lead)</span></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I didn’t. Come 50K training, my life is going to be all about endurance so I thought I would get a head start on that mantra. </span></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Official time 1:38:08)</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Running Partner and I threw a kickass Thanksgiving party for all our friends. As you may have noticed in <a href="http://irunforthefinishline.blogspot.com/2011/11/so-you-would-think-biggest-race-of-my.html">“MCM… I didn’t do it alone”</a> we have some awesome people in our life and we wanted to share a Thxgiv dinner with them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So with good times had by all, I am now mentally preparing for Full Bloom 50K on April 21<sup>st</sup>. <place w:st="on">Marathon</place> training was 4 days a week with a long run on Saturday. Ultra training is 5 days a week with 2 long runs over the weekend. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I said on my birthday I wanted to do things that would scare me this year. I am scared. </span></div>
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<strong>Do you follow the "One day for every mile you ran" recovery plan?</strong></div>
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</div>Illanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04444864520609808345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523541679038266519.post-46249196718120766292011-11-16T08:38:00.001-08:002011-11-16T10:43:49.930-08:00MCM... I didn't do it alone.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">So you would think the biggest race of my life I would have an update the day of but no instead I wait until all the Gu packets are cleaned up along Haines Point, the professional photographer has uploaded and photo shopped Every. Single. Picture before I start writing about the <a href="http://irunforthefinishline.blogspot.com/">Biggest Race</a> of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I will still call it the biggest race of my life because it is the race that has opened my mind up to so much. At this point it is not anymore about can I do it but more so when and how can I afford to do it. (Now if I could just get my hands on a Sugar Daddy then the only thing holding me back is “when”) </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Texas, Cover Girl and I getting ready to ruin the potty.. I mean run the race. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Morning of the race, all the girls met up and we made our way to the bag check and the all important porta potty. I stood in line thinking I will just get this out of the way… maybe a little tinkle considering I left the other goods at the nice clean loo back home. Dear Mary Mother of anything unattractive and unsexy I apparently didn’t. After an almost devastating deposit we made our way to the start line. I say ‘almost’ because apparently I wasn’t done. My heart and soul was signed up for this race but anything and everything that had a way out of my body made a run for it. (pun intended). This is all before the start line. The person that put porta potties right before the start line is pretty much the smartest person alive. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">At this point I was committed to running the whole 26.2 miles by myself as I lost everyone in the group. As I started jogging slowly to the start line I heard people yelling my name… it was the rest of the group (minus <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on"><a href="http://www.gotracygo.com/">Tracy</a></place></city>). They stopped right at the line to tie shoe laces. I will use another blog to express my opinions about shoe laces and races.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">And off we go laces tied, potty destroyed and arm warmers gone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">The first 6 miles was pure torture despite the hugest smile on my face. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Somewhere in the race while still smiling</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Every fear I had regarding the last 6 miles was coming true in the first 6 miles. First pit stop took an entire SEVEN minutes of waiting in line. I have always taken pride in running my races without ever needing to stop to tie laces, adjust watches or make stops at potties so this was beyond annoying. I quickly forgot my frustrations once I lost every ounce of nutrients, carb-loading, vitamins and electrolytes accumulated over the week. I was now running the next 20 miles on just what was stored in my muscles because the idea of eating a Gu, gummy bear or anything was out of the question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Around mile 9 I kicked it in gear and took off. The entire week of holding back in running, life’s curve balls and getting dumped got left on the road from mile 9 through mile 16. There is not a therapist on this planet earth that can do for me what mile 9-16 did. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Still smiling</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Mile 16 through 19 was the most painful part. From my waist down everything hurt. I was too scared to stop and stretch because I was sure that would be the end of me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Not smiling as much but this is were things hurt</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">At mile 19 all kinds of beautiful things happened. My girlfriends K-Dawg and Q, frantically waving their arms, came running up behind me screaming out my name. (getting teary just remembering that moment). They were suppose to meet me at mile 20 but were running behind on their morning run resulting in jumping in at mile 18 or so and caught up with me. I know it doesn’t quiet make sense but either way it was a blessing. I was in so much pain at this point so seeing them gave me much needed strength. Without even saying hello or so glad to see you guys or why are you here and not at mile 20, all I could say was “I fucking love you guys”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Mile 20 with K-Dawg, Q and Running Partner about to join</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Around 19.5 there was this amazing beating sound and I would love to say it was my heart but no it was something even more incredible. Another girlfriend plays in a <a href="http://batalawashington.com/">drum band</a> and her band was beating those drums with everything in them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Drumming her heart out</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"> I know she said she played her heart out because she knew she was playing for so many of her friends in the race. “Beat the Bridge” is a significant point on MCM. It is the start of a 2 mile bridge and from what I had been told mile 20 is the start of the most difficult part in any marathon. It also was the start of the furthest I had ever run in my life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">If you are someone that follows my training you will know I lost Running Partner to an injured foot…well I am happy to say I did not lose her completely. Secretly I think the drum band was there purely for her entrance to racing with me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stood on the sideline cheering at the top of her lungs and with no hesitation she jumped in and took her standard place right at my side. (Now I am sobbing just remembering all this again). We took that entire bridge down, curled around into <placename w:st="on">Crystal</placename> <placename w:st="on">City</placename> and looped back through <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Crystal</placename> <placename w:st="on">City</placename></place> together like she was never gone. My favorite part was when she said to me </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">“You are running a marathon!” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I said “No, I am finishing a marathon”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Having her and the other 2 girls there was so fantastic and made it the biggest and most incredible race of my Entire. Life. We made our way through Pentagon parking lot all the while Running Partner darting ahead to get me orange pieces and water because there was no way I was going to stop now. As we came up on the homestretch the girls dropped off at mile 26 leaving me to laydown everything I had left in me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Thank you guys, I love you, bye... see you at finish line</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">A very smart ultra runner once told me “You shouldn’t be sprinting the finish cos you should leave everything on the course”…I left everything on the course and still sprinted the finish. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Finishing this marathon would go down as one of the three most challenging things I have done in my life… you damn straight I was going to finish strong. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhHwesiyapFmEsXw-oaOHg0xRTpMQ7DUmWyFXOS_TK-_FM4U0XBetW6wQ_iS2EJm3C7bKn7ruCUDR3KvjjLxYQ44JPKn2nCrfJ33Xl4Mj_ljex9llracNC91tQ5wBOjvjLlNp5ZwYhjZCi/s1600/finisher+mcm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhHwesiyapFmEsXw-oaOHg0xRTpMQ7DUmWyFXOS_TK-_FM4U0XBetW6wQ_iS2EJm3C7bKn7ruCUDR3KvjjLxYQ44JPKn2nCrfJ33Xl4Mj_ljex9llracNC91tQ5wBOjvjLlNp5ZwYhjZCi/s400/finisher+mcm.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">And I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> 5:02:01 </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank you everyone that trained with me, educated me, encouraged me, believed in me and came out to cheer for me. I am so blessed to have you in my life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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</div>Illanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04444864520609808345noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523541679038266519.post-14073774297386922442011-11-04T07:35:00.000-07:002011-11-04T07:35:27.311-07:00Pre- the biggest Race of my entire life!!!!! (For now)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">OH MY WORD the day totally came rushing at me like a bat out of hell. Friday I got a txt from one of my running buddies saying “Are you getting your bib tonight or tomorrow?” I was like Wait!!! What??? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Yes the day is upon us and I needed to start getting everything together for 36<sup>th</sup> Annual Marine Corps Marathon 2011!!!! (Ok I will stop with all the !!! but gosh darn the excitement, no words to describe the excitement). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">So after taking .05 seconds to decide that I was meeting up with him to get my bib I was out the big glass doors. It was 5pm somewhere and had my sights set on the Armory Stadium for some bib action, Marine viewing action and Expo action. All those actions were met. Good lord there are some good looking men in the service.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Couldn't decide which one to use. </span></em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWkpK-L6KAXXhW0VgfIOL3GM1n5aClnI-NirsNXoTLlRQS9BK4CxDKj-UOM9vkOEc8FkzCkBVKls7jRWUgqqvZQRI_FcKuEoGCH7pdw5yDdjlmmYDdVTucCCFj3I9FJPc4erfV3lOUGUx1/s1600/mcm+shirt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWkpK-L6KAXXhW0VgfIOL3GM1n5aClnI-NirsNXoTLlRQS9BK4CxDKj-UOM9vkOEc8FkzCkBVKls7jRWUgqqvZQRI_FcKuEoGCH7pdw5yDdjlmmYDdVTucCCFj3I9FJPc4erfV3lOUGUx1/s320/mcm+shirt.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Bib and shirt</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0w2ONCMdmNd1PfBqA21-OBHdVgJQNzR_eNQ9emSea8qv1F5B6HRTYxB4yzTxPUdv5HfuZT4ulPuSLagALL9e1z358H2U1SdLYvfvSuO3rfeb64aUaPOPkJhcyatVAFAOkqlFt9wl3-Mij/s1600/mcmsign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0w2ONCMdmNd1PfBqA21-OBHdVgJQNzR_eNQ9emSea8qv1F5B6HRTYxB4yzTxPUdv5HfuZT4ulPuSLagALL9e1z358H2U1SdLYvfvSuO3rfeb64aUaPOPkJhcyatVAFAOkqlFt9wl3-Mij/s320/mcmsign.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Yellow is such a good color on and around me </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh2RGJBrjyeujiZDdgqIAGvr_UQgu5g4yu8nj-s-8TZwQPGyK_T5vJhsn7yJ1dhckHSOyIiybbycf6ukz9A5PCfI3VpZEtGMZkHMrXZ58O45Hltu_n_HtKigRe7Du2lpdOnp5aEyRR2G2b/s1600/mcmbib.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh2RGJBrjyeujiZDdgqIAGvr_UQgu5g4yu8nj-s-8TZwQPGyK_T5vJhsn7yJ1dhckHSOyIiybbycf6ukz9A5PCfI3VpZEtGMZkHMrXZ58O45Hltu_n_HtKigRe7Du2lpdOnp5aEyRR2G2b/s320/mcmbib.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">My new fav numbers</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">At this point I was already 2 days into making every smart decision known to mankind regarding my food. If you are someone that reads most of my blogs you will know I discovered in <a href="http://irunforthefinishline.blogspot.com/2011/08/7-pounds-of-salt.html">“7 pounds of salt”</a> that eating is everything. So once I spent way too much money at the expo on water belts and magnets we headed out for a very calculated pasta dinner with minimal cheese and only a beer. Something I have done time and time again. Saturday I had a great breakfast, ate during the day, drank some water, not enough and had my soda. Again this is all things I have done in the past. If you are wondering why these observations are so important… wait for it, I will explain. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">My Saturday evening was spent getting everything together for Race Day and facebooking with anyone and everyone that wanted to talk about the race. I could lie to you and tell you it took my 3 minutes to put my things together but nope I could never lie … it took me hours to put together this masterpiece…</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBLMIUr00tohIPla1gEV5IYkxSDE-otJBA5aqRAOVYCrg9bLr3dIz6Q0g4WX-ltGh3CKpOG-BikN-NG8v8K1h_23oFv-DN5ZoFF3mp3Zh2jWeN6nwXQXmkoWjizC_6e-DDdFpwRzbKn-YU/s1600/gearing+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBLMIUr00tohIPla1gEV5IYkxSDE-otJBA5aqRAOVYCrg9bLr3dIz6Q0g4WX-ltGh3CKpOG-BikN-NG8v8K1h_23oFv-DN5ZoFF3mp3Zh2jWeN6nwXQXmkoWjizC_6e-DDdFpwRzbKn-YU/s320/gearing+up.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Sneakers check, Alka check, warmers check, sneakers check, glide check, sneakers check again.....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was so proud of myself when I stood back to see my work of art. I had everything out and ready to go including my dollar store leg warmers that I use as arm warmers (by the way, why call your store a dollar store if you have crap that is $5?). I didn’t do anything with the patch but I did use the Alka Seltzer. That is a secret I am happy to share with you… Alka Seltzer is a good idea the night before or morning of race day. With all that done I crawled into bed a 9:30pm like a good girl. 11:30pm got woken up by a lonely puppy (roommates 8 yr old pitbull that I love dearly) then awake again at 2:30am. Ugh all I wanted to do was sleep but around 3am it felt like some evil spirit took my insides, tied them into a huge knot and pulled with all its evil might. Two Alka tablets later and curled up in a ball I was able to go back to sleep. Alarm clock went off at 4:30am….I love running and races but not really sure how I feel about a 4:30am wake up. Especially when I know I did not get enough sleep. Jumped (not really) out of bed, showered and ate 2 whole wheat thin bagels with Nutella. Usually I wouldn’t care about showering but I was about to go running for 5 hours…. I needed to shower. Honestly, I wish a few people on the course did the same thing. Plan was for running partner to drop off <city w:st="on">Tracy</city> at my place, Covergirl girlfriend was walking over too and then we would do the 1.5 mile walk to Pentagon to get my <state w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Texas</place></state> girl. To <a href="http://www.gotracygo.com/"><place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Tracy</city></place> </a>from NY surprise, I am an avid follower of her blog so it was great to have her there with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Girls collected up and out the door we went…..</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Race day events will follow shortly, <em><span style="font-size: x-small;">with a side of porta potty devastation</span></em>... </span></div>
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</div>Illanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04444864520609808345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523541679038266519.post-2963334294362835842011-10-26T10:59:00.000-07:002011-10-26T11:19:58.599-07:00“SURPRISE!!!...You are doing 8 miles with me in downtown tomorrow morning, right?”<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">A couple of months ago I had the age old conversation with one of my most amazing male friends “When are you coming to <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Chicago</city></place>?” and I respond with something like “When would you like me to come? I have a trip to NY this weekend, something planned the next weekend and oh no, I can’t do that weekend either”. He will then follow that up with well we have family in town for this month and I am in this and this country this and this week. In the Indian culture family visits for MONTH… I can barely maintain a 5 min facebook conversation with my family… these people don’t leave for a month. Well low and behold we once again engage in such conversation and he suggests Oct 21<sup>st</sup>. I, panic stricken, say to him “That is the weekend before MCM. Am I complete ass for not wanting to fly before my first marathon?” He says “It’s her birthday and I want to surprise her” I say “Done! I am flying to <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Chicago</place></city> on the 21<sup>st</sup>”. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">So after many ignored IM’s, emails from his wonderful wife (I was so terrified my big mouth would have a case of verbal diarrhea) we were successful at getting me to O’Hare undetected. Little tidbit I suck at keeping my mouth shut…no really I do. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGgRX2yOZLnSetNd6e8esKFAzLxxRb5-88EHoLddDoD7FnsEpPRjLQ9wsy1aVa4nfmNm6e7bQJFKeVrAbZcnVrSdV_5G8hhV3GE7UEQVoKwaTYeQOs5dv8_y_d6n_CidHIFQMydRFbmaMr/s1600/Anna+and+I.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGgRX2yOZLnSetNd6e8esKFAzLxxRb5-88EHoLddDoD7FnsEpPRjLQ9wsy1aVa4nfmNm6e7bQJFKeVrAbZcnVrSdV_5G8hhV3GE7UEQVoKwaTYeQOs5dv8_y_d6n_CidHIFQMydRFbmaMr/s320/Anna+and+I.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">"Surprise"</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">After all the screaming and excitement subsided, the first thing out of this running addicts mouth was “You are doing 8 miles with me in downtown tomorrow morning, right?” Another tidbit… addicts stand alone in their world of madness, alone I tell you, alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">So with no alarm clock and no running group to hold me accountable I was still able to get myself up and dressed for the 8 miles. My wonderful girlfriend (not an addict) was awake and very chatty while I was getting ready. Chatty girlfriend sounds a little like this”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Are you taking your cell phone?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">“no”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">“what if you get lost?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">“I will find my way back”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">“you going like that?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">“yes”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">“you need a jacket, it’s cold”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">“I will be running, I’ll be fine”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Do you know what route you are doing?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Going out of your building and going to start running sounds like a good route”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">This is where it gets funny</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">“No! You need to turn right and then left to the elevator, take the elevator down and turn right again, then left into the lobby. When you are out of the building just run straight down <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Monroe</place></city> to the water. You must stay on Monroe and along the water”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Yes her directions involved lefts and rights to getting out of the building… anyone else see the humor in this Mother Hen? One of the main reasons I love her so incredibly much. So after much discussion she is somewhat reassured that I will be fine, however does have a search party on standby hiding in the coat closet just in case. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">It was a good discussion because it reminded me that I had not yet told her my post MCM plans that meant things like street signs would be replaced with painted patches on tree trunks,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"> and “left into the lobby” would be replaced with a small 5x8 tent that might have water, might not.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Out the lobby (thanks to her directions) and I am off to do my last long run before the big day. This is where it is blatantly clear I am one sick puppy. Downtown <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Chicago</place></city> in the middle of October is not downtown DC in the middle of October. In my ‘barely there’ hot pink running shorts and crisp white shirt I went blazing past every black cloaked local accessorized with hat, scarf and (not or) gloves huddled on the streets corners. Based on the heads I was turning I think I was clearly under dressed for the local folks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Sadly in my stubborn attempt to prove to the Mother Hen I didn’t need a phone I did not have a way to take pictures of my amazing, beautiful, exhilarating 12 mile run in downtown Chi-town. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Thank you World Wide Web for this picture</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Two more tidbits… I can be THAT annoying Type-A overachiever that makes others want to punch me and I suck at tapering. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Upon return I was blessed with a breakfast only a runner could truly appreciate. This breakfast goes by the name “Breakfast Casserole”. This potatoy, eggy, sausagey, cheesy, loved filled casserole pretty much made my life the most incredible thing ever. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Breakfast casserole</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">So with only days to Marine Corp Marathon I can say I am ready and getting excited.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong><em>Who is your Mother Hen? And what amazing things do you inhale after a long run? </em></strong><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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</div>Illanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04444864520609808345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523541679038266519.post-32451327133810661652011-09-26T11:54:00.000-07:002011-09-26T13:10:59.220-07:00Trail running, I am in a committed relationship with MCM, please stop flirting with me.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">Saturday I went up to NY for a 45 min Doctor appointment, somewhat kicking and screaming my way up there. I needed to do 18 miles and hated the idea of doing it alone in an area I don’t know but, like any other committed runner I would find a way come hell or high water. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I walked into my girlfriend’s apartment and got straight into my running clothes, filled up my badass Army camel bag with 2 parts Gatorade and 1 part water. Took a good 10 million minutes to figure out how long I should set my stop watch for (I am not fancy or rich enough to have a super cool GPS watch yet) and decided 3:30 ought to do it. Called my girlfriend to tell her my route, conversation goes as such “Hey Brower Power, I am taking a right out of your apartment building and running through White Plains, past Walmart, down to County Center where I will pick up the paved trail and head south. It will be an out and back so if I am not back in 4 hours be worried.” She said. “You should go left out the apartment and go down the hill, then up and then down the next hill and then up and you should be able to pick up the <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Bronx</placename> <placetype w:st="on">River</placetype></place> pathway there”. Clearly she wasn’t able to comprehend what running 18 miles meant because she was about to send me up and down not one but TWO Mofo hills at the start and finish of my run. Needless to say I stayed with plan A. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Although I loved that she had so much faith in my abilities. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I headed right out of her apartment and got started. The first 2 miles every step hurt. This long run was going to be the make or break moment of marathon training and things were not looking good so far. I got down to the paved trail and headed south in the direction of NYC wondering how close to the city I would get. About 3 miles in I felt my stride picking up. Pain and stiffness was gone and I was feeling pretty good about going all the way. As my mind started to drift to recent conversations about trail running post MCM, I came around a bend just to stare trail running right in the face. It was like a tall, dark, handsome mysterious man leaning against the wall pretending like he didn’t know I was coming but know full well he was going to seduce me. This mysterious trail came to me in the form of a broken up bridge. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Well, at this point I decided I had no choice but to turn back and go north on the paved trail. I looked back at the trail, and then at the broken bridge. It looked so scary and fun and forbidden and how in the world does any self respecting trail running dreamer pass up a chance to cross a dilapidated bridge where the “DANGER PATHWAY CLOSED” sign is used to cross over. I took another look behind me and decided screw it I am going for it. The rush was incredible and my blood was pumping with excitement as I scrambled my way over. I got over and looked back, smiling from ear to ear pleased at my rendezvous. Able to pull myself back together, I got back to running on the nice paved road, telling myself to stay focused on normal running as MCM is little over 1 month away and getting hurt is not an option. This internal conversation turned into me scowling at myself for acting a fool. Just as I finished up that argument with myself I came up on a sign that saids “END OF TRAIL”. Well once again I had to decide whether to go back or go exploring for more trail. A lady ran by and I asked her if the trail picks up ahead. She said “Yes just go over the train tracks and along pipeline and you will be able to pick up about a mile down the road”. Awesome I headed down the road and come up on the train tracks. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"> At this point I was thinking what sick bastard puts a set of stairs like that in my 18 mile run route. Okay apparently I am doing Bootcamp today too. Up and over the tracks I looked to the left for a pipeline. Thinking to myself apparently we are in <state w:st="on">Alaska</state> or <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Russia</place></country-region> now cos we run along pipelines. Really this is how we roll?!? (Yes there are moments where there are more than one of me in me). I saw no pipe but I did see a little road along the tracks and I decide maybe roads like that are called ‘pipeline’ in trail runner lingo. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> As I headed down this little road I wondered if I should be concerned about the area but my mind is put to ease by the slew of BMW’s, Mercedes and Audi’s driving along this road. Nice area along the tracks, go figure. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Nowhere did I find a trail but I did find myself running straight smack into <street w:st="on"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Once again I am asking myself “what now?”. I can turn back, run 55 miles an hour to the next exit or do my best to run on the 6 inch shoulder while cars are flying by me. We all know I can’t run 55 miles an hour, but again how does any self respecting trail runner dreamer not run her heart out on the side of a 55 mile/hr Parkway. About 200 yards later I made a left off the exit and crossed over the overpass and picking up the trail. At this point I was a good 6 miles into my run which usually I would be pretty tired but my heart was about ready to burst out of my chest with excitement and there was just no stopping me now. Of course the side of me that is committed to MCM and doesn’t want to get killed is yelling and screaming… yet again. This voice was barely done freaking out when I was faced with this…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">WTH!!! All I wanted to do was my 18 miles on a smooth path but at every turn I am faced with such exhilarating dilemmas. Do I stay on the straight and narrow or do completely and utterly lose myself in this forbidden adventure. At this point I don’t think I need to tell you what I did. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Feeling basically invincible I was able to run the 1hr 45 min out and it was now time to head back. And of course it wouldn’t be a trail run if I didn’t get a little lost at least once. Found my way back to the paved trail (remember the thing I was meant to be running all along). At this point I had to decide do I go back to race with 55 m/hr cars along the parkway or do I find a different way across. I found a tiny little trail that lead me to the other side of the trail. </span></div>
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Totally gave my screaming self I shit eaten grin because I didn’t do the crazy thing. That grin was short lived as this lovely little path leads me to this… </div>
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Well I do know how to swim but screaming me doesn’t want to run the remaining 8 miles in soaking wet sneakers so we had to find a different way</div>
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I climbed up over the flooded part only to find myself standing right next the train tracks.</div>
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Yes! Right! Next to the tracks. </div>
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“Mary mother of god! Can this run get anymore amazing?!?” is what I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>By the way on the way back I found the spot where the lady said the trail picks up, because apparently not everyone is trying to run 55 miles an hour along the <street w:st="on"></div>
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Bronx River Parkway</address>
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Do you see where the trail picks up? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHp74vO7mjQzDI3F7hSu2jcILWJEPefcE2SBwy-fV_-aHK36Vbk3P5vh62Fq4WBWcaMYvRrcJTqEd2leAgDElN132XLudVGD7myv7NhVupwyQL-ezlMy5Hbjdkyx4p0TGvm8akIRaHcjl/s1600/300105_2033013512993_1473835209_31789190_1545635180_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHp74vO7mjQzDI3F7hSu2jcILWJEPefcE2SBwy-fV_-aHK36Vbk3P5vh62Fq4WBWcaMYvRrcJTqEd2leAgDElN132XLudVGD7myv7NhVupwyQL-ezlMy5Hbjdkyx4p0TGvm8akIRaHcjl/s200/300105_2033013512993_1473835209_31789190_1545635180_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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Exactly! Who thinks to look for a 1.5ft opening in the guardrail?!?! </div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I made my way back to <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">White Plains</city></place> over the tracks, </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUq9o3DXQWmOoFm1HMxbKxmYTVGK9ZF1CqztMZSR-q0ZVJDopYfYwytDDrajQoAsMfbkYHJXcNRkvJ4aVUxtUXbHSI56Xl3Uc5INL3d9u9CgOCUWYBKMgX58nayuGPgimZHrmrOpGuh19a/s1600/319938_2033008832876_1473835209_31789171_781203558_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUq9o3DXQWmOoFm1HMxbKxmYTVGK9ZF1CqztMZSR-q0ZVJDopYfYwytDDrajQoAsMfbkYHJXcNRkvJ4aVUxtUXbHSI56Xl3Uc5INL3d9u9CgOCUWYBKMgX58nayuGPgimZHrmrOpGuh19a/s200/319938_2033008832876_1473835209_31789171_781203558_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">around tree roots, </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFo4_-S5feCOp6LUH6aIWgHx6ApnNYsA58qtjIy4fSCwTot3gtkgfxyLwPb-m_oDKzn1k0qaOBZaPdrkeyYGrQhA-NyTboLvoZNb3Nn9BxHeodaPwpLa1kLr8jNzlKawak0VC8GTnFhJ0/s1600/318618_2033031473442_1473835209_31789201_1493994261_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFo4_-S5feCOp6LUH6aIWgHx6ApnNYsA58qtjIy4fSCwTot3gtkgfxyLwPb-m_oDKzn1k0qaOBZaPdrkeyYGrQhA-NyTboLvoZNb3Nn9BxHeodaPwpLa1kLr8jNzlKawak0VC8GTnFhJ0/s200/318618_2033031473442_1473835209_31789201_1493994261_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">through the underwater path </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiahsRAQKwkSgGu13iku3Iprm1XaLXEIuDLxrhyerK3WtFrikD-7O7FshcPNRIz8LHmGDiaUH4q4iHZ4a1HrsI533UIf2Cvc-ahq5xEqBp5YkmHTNvIix3zEI0CEGfZh4XuNtVLW67Ya8KC/s1600/316442_2033034033506_1473835209_31789204_548762793_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiahsRAQKwkSgGu13iku3Iprm1XaLXEIuDLxrhyerK3WtFrikD-7O7FshcPNRIz8LHmGDiaUH4q4iHZ4a1HrsI533UIf2Cvc-ahq5xEqBp5YkmHTNvIix3zEI0CEGfZh4XuNtVLW67Ya8KC/s200/316442_2033034033506_1473835209_31789204_548762793_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and through another muddy path</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOQFSPBThD-Wn2VhwUjSRWTSsvS3RRVuqT99GOfWMSo4UV7GcV0GPVNgqZQ2WvhBaqy9FZTDc68kv_JCZghyphenhyphenk1MKledjVDA9KXdpXH28hBfhLOD8ldNxjk4v9OpV-BJVRm_wzKP5F2OSbb/s1600/300413_2033002552719_1473835209_31789168_1124369333_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOQFSPBThD-Wn2VhwUjSRWTSsvS3RRVuqT99GOfWMSo4UV7GcV0GPVNgqZQ2WvhBaqy9FZTDc68kv_JCZghyphenhyphenk1MKledjVDA9KXdpXH28hBfhLOD8ldNxjk4v9OpV-BJVRm_wzKP5F2OSbb/s200/300413_2033002552719_1473835209_31789168_1124369333_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">and </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">back over that incredible busted up bridge.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_V6vtsfq2xoq0VjamDjPgPBbUtwbk5BG7aqv_mMASET4MgX5ibx-6XwBPlQhzylTGwQbGVbFWzKNEdtbvRwlkMQgKEJhfC5eWYcSKv_6A9jVPKu7HL-f8R3ozqaDsR4NvT9AjSIoZ89q/s1600/302510_2032997752599_1473835209_31789161_161355845_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_V6vtsfq2xoq0VjamDjPgPBbUtwbk5BG7aqv_mMASET4MgX5ibx-6XwBPlQhzylTGwQbGVbFWzKNEdtbvRwlkMQgKEJhfC5eWYcSKv_6A9jVPKu7HL-f8R3ozqaDsR4NvT9AjSIoZ89q/s200/302510_2032997752599_1473835209_31789161_161355845_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">With thighs burning (forgot to put anti-chaff gel on), hair a mess, sweating from head to toe, draped over the entrance stairs, panting and cigarette lit I found myself saying breathlessly </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">“F#ck that was amazing”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><strong><em>Are you having an affair with other sports while training for a big race?</em></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">P.S I am aware we are missing a few weeks but this couldn't wait so I will catch up later.</span></span></div>
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Illanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04444864520609808345noreply@blogger.com0White Plains, NY, USA41.0339862 -73.762909740.9860757 -73.8418737 41.0818967 -73.6839457tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523541679038266519.post-69267125123656353202011-09-06T12:07:00.000-07:002011-09-06T12:07:31.503-07:00BLOW HORN<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">I have surrendered to 2 things in life. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><ol style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Planning every step of your life makes for good jokes for the dude that pulls the strings </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Listen to the whispers that over time become a screaming blow horn </span></li>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicN5_4M9nFo3dcHCu2LIIpIDQ8v4DSL1-jX82D-5NciVoERajulaxgJ5gV5SHxFgsAoTgsrN2pNV6YlpW2wEt4NPjNCy4MPuM-hbGKdybHe5_f1-nUeezZAHPdA81xwBzVIB4n00Z9HApM/s1600/god+laughing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicN5_4M9nFo3dcHCu2LIIpIDQ8v4DSL1-jX82D-5NciVoERajulaxgJ5gV5SHxFgsAoTgsrN2pNV6YlpW2wEt4NPjNCy4MPuM-hbGKdybHe5_f1-nUeezZAHPdA81xwBzVIB4n00Z9HApM/s200/god+laughing.jpg" width="156" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(belly laughing higher power)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Plan was to be a big fancy executive with a corner office, then a successful therapist that was going to save the world, then be a wife to a IT hotshot with all the big, fancy expensive stuff he could ever want, then marry a man with a child that had special needs and build a beautiful home… and so the plans continued each time ending with Him belly laughing and me starting again… and again. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Well after many attempts to plan every step of my life I have surrendered to the whisper that started back 2003 and is now a screaming blow horn: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">MAKE RUNNING YOUR LIFE.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">If only that whisper didn’t cost me and people involved an expensive wedding, failed marriage, failed relationships, another failed relationship and many years in a shrink’s office. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Sneakers are so much cheaper than therapy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Average cost of a therapist <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>= $480/per month</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Average cost of pair of sneakers <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span>= $120 every 4 months</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Average cost of a race <span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>= $ 45-$120 if and when you can</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVCHaBXawZOT_ZtZTBYq2HaD8kbQ3ht-lVlbLRCKiWbWmA46OwzCE7tyYHCkuGjlj5hVRnnY0pvfK6XEtP3jtklfYXLhtngWNoCaXA3WtNiDmgUgLGnxSvSHx_HgNhlemUCevBqA7wade/s1600/tony+on+couch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVCHaBXawZOT_ZtZTBYq2HaD8kbQ3ht-lVlbLRCKiWbWmA46OwzCE7tyYHCkuGjlj5hVRnnY0pvfK6XEtP3jtklfYXLhtngWNoCaXA3WtNiDmgUgLGnxSvSHx_HgNhlemUCevBqA7wade/s1600/tony+on+couch.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Therapy fun fun)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Race day is almost like a huge conference for the battered, bruised, challenged Badass’s in the world. We all stand at the start line with one foot forward, finger on the GPS watch looking straight at the challenge ahead of us and waiting for that huge blow horn to go off. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlmCKN75Ic0EaQ54RAMV8JFJ5KVsjYylMC1qMvHZQF55qexyN-P8_aedSMnjZeb3jQmbYgOVlNmH0aLC4AKuYBiITXQ9d4lwRaMgpnO9pfzJjKw-gP8kvURamzLNQshuvu1IPthSj4Ob7i/s1600/startline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="135" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlmCKN75Ic0EaQ54RAMV8JFJ5KVsjYylMC1qMvHZQF55qexyN-P8_aedSMnjZeb3jQmbYgOVlNmH0aLC4AKuYBiITXQ9d4lwRaMgpnO9pfzJjKw-gP8kvURamzLNQshuvu1IPthSj4Ob7i/s200/startline.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Along the way we see shirts that reinforce how badass we are and signs that validate our determination. These are a few mantra’s we get to see during a race. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">“Pain is weakness leaving the body” (my fav)</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">“If this was easy then EVERYONE would be doing it”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">“If you are reading this you were passed by a pregnant woman”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">“I fight cancer… what do you do?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Going into week 11 of training with a renewed sense of determination, I will be thinking about how great my runs are, how great my life is and how the blow horn is so much louder than any plan. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><strong><span style="font-size: small;">What is your fav Mantra on race day?</span></strong> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div>Illanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04444864520609808345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523541679038266519.post-9132641576183193622011-08-26T10:03:00.000-07:002011-08-26T10:09:29.447-07:007 pounds of salt….<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_yx85so="114" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Why do cows need to lick salt blocks</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">:</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">When salt intake is below that required to meet the animal’s need for <span class="yshortcutscs4-visible"><span id="lw_1314370569_0">sodium</span></span> and <span class="yshortcutscs4-visible"><span id="lw_1314370569_1">chloride</span></span>, the animal adjusts by conserving salt. Urine output of sodium and chloride nearly stops. A continuous low salt intake affects the health of <span class="yshortcutscs4-visible"><span id="lw_1314370569_2">animals</span></span> through a loss of appetite and weight. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bluh bluh something else boring and <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>bluh bluh bluh something else”. </span></i><span style="font-size: 10pt;">(Courtesy of Yahoo!Answers)<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HJff8iwOswv2iHslWDZspS0TIqkmuCSpiNhjBDLMUg2Ca0t1H5at77iFA15ViQRt4YZtvqgRCZY48OkF8pQqnNnoDWevOT566nQH5RRVE0omKlsRwLRrJXga289EyPJjOgwb_3AX7QoX/s1600/cowsaltblock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HJff8iwOswv2iHslWDZspS0TIqkmuCSpiNhjBDLMUg2Ca0t1H5at77iFA15ViQRt4YZtvqgRCZY48OkF8pQqnNnoDWevOT566nQH5RRVE0omKlsRwLRrJXga289EyPJjOgwb_3AX7QoX/s1600/cowsaltblock.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_yx85so="231" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<div closure_uid_yx85so="245"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> (<em closure_uid_yx85so="651">Where you could find me this past weekend)</em></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_yx85so="231" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span closure_uid_7huyiv="99" closure_uid_yx85so="652" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">I think the above does this cow justice when you ask why I inhaled a cheeseburger (Friday routine), only had ONE slice of pepperoni pizza all day Saturday and shamelessly pulled up to McD’s Drive thru at 10pm. Paid cash for a Angus Quarter pounder with fries like I was meeting a street hooker and didn’t want any proof on my debit card of such dirty encounters. Might be the only time in my life I didn’t care what they did with the Coco Cola. And of course the weekend would not be complete without a fried Shrimp Po’Boy and fries. In case logic and math is not your strongest quality… that is a BOATLOAD of salt and not enough food for a weekend. Now I am well aware that I need to take ownership of my behavior but Saturday was somewhat out of my control. They said there would be lunch…more like a snack before the real snacks get here. Lunch my rear-end. Does a food event organizer not know what a meal looks like? And McD’s was out of pure desperation. Oh wait there might have been an all sausage and bacon omelet the size of my head in there somewhere. All this resulted in the scale been 7 pounds heavier from last week. Needless to say Sunday’s 13 mile run… correction strong 6 miles to bootcamp, 5 painful miles after an hour of bootcamp and a 2 mile walk was by far my worst showing ever. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_yx85so="653" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">“And the Award for Worst Athlete Ever goes to…. ILLANA!” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" closure_uid_yx85so="196" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgayQyk77xG4A_1UKO3yFVw0KRjs2oZG4kN1sCHXWwzHsbDX5DaXbroStJrQvNT1L_ybDEdOC-e_bo4kWcX3rn5cV-DsPtW8bdwMW2l2uRGgVLS-4Qq91DuLwoGEEfiSKsONGMo_-PcBsbg/s1600/award+given+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgayQyk77xG4A_1UKO3yFVw0KRjs2oZG4kN1sCHXWwzHsbDX5DaXbroStJrQvNT1L_ybDEdOC-e_bo4kWcX3rn5cV-DsPtW8bdwMW2l2uRGgVLS-4Qq91DuLwoGEEfiSKsONGMo_-PcBsbg/s320/award+given+pic.JPG" width="233" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_yx85so="135" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(I have not figured out photoshop yet, don't judge)</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Monday morning Edward Cullen and I had more in common than our passion for fast cars….</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" closure_uid_yx85so="284" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbAaKA6LpzC9v4V67rRMZ3MDTRkALX-uzUW-JUK2-ER0pD6iHnfXmVTEg9qKqNkoj11g7QKF0VLiyCHV5l0Wm3zfi0Qg8GNzouoBywrWHlLcOe2o-jxBCaB4TmV7p0DKobZzXi1TlvGhoB/s1600/edward+cullen+glowing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbAaKA6LpzC9v4V67rRMZ3MDTRkALX-uzUW-JUK2-ER0pD6iHnfXmVTEg9qKqNkoj11g7QKF0VLiyCHV5l0Wm3zfi0Qg8GNzouoBywrWHlLcOe2o-jxBCaB4TmV7p0DKobZzXi1TlvGhoB/s200/edward+cullen+glowing.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_yx85so="137" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><em>(My eyes..my eyes)</em></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was glowing with salt crystals on my skin. Only because I don’t live out near a cow farm I was able to survive the day and make it to the store for REAL food. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" closure_uid_yx85so="289" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPtm2l6_U-Ep3Xw2G7vYDp-q7UiNN7zlNJPHbb60LdRWGfcvlC5yfSXFWFwBxOQokR7rsBTACW6Jl7g6vepXKSY1efWtK5U3rEEuxg0XHKM3ePsFhsiE9OX1xE2-490WbbkmMh0M5aY_L/s1600/food.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPtm2l6_U-Ep3Xw2G7vYDp-q7UiNN7zlNJPHbb60LdRWGfcvlC5yfSXFWFwBxOQokR7rsBTACW6Jl7g6vepXKSY1efWtK5U3rEEuxg0XHKM3ePsFhsiE9OX1xE2-490WbbkmMh0M5aY_L/s320/food.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_yx85so="285" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span closure_uid_yx85so="139" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> <em><span closure_uid_yx85so="290" style="font-size: xx-small;">(btw all for less than $85...who said you can't do healthy on a budget. B&J is healthy and I will fight you if you say different)</span></em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_yx85so="291" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span closure_uid_yx85so="288" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Just when I was coming to terms with my life been controlled by an 18 week Hal Higdon Marathon training schedule reality bitch slapped in the form of an 13 mile run. This running all the mileage crap is for the birds. You can run your little heart out, run your big wobbly legs off, run off 2 of your 4 ass cheeks but, none of this matters if YOU DON’T EAT RIGHT!!! My life is now run by veggies, mini bagels, and eating all the time. Prior to training I would scream and yell about how annoying the eating 3 times a day thing is. NOW it’s like 6, 7, 100 times a day. What do I do to keep myself somewhat sane during these food infested days? Soda on Thursday cos I am tired and I need to boost, a bag of potato chips on Friday as I have until Saturday morning to get it out of my system, Chocolate milk to get the calories and nutrients I need (love this one) and passionately make out with a bacon cheese burger with caramelized onions on a Friday. Aside from these little treats that make me feel human I live a life of eating healthy and eating more healthy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsZ8zs1GB5al1hPnL3OB_S0lI0EZ6HyywiRVIjkuhm_iirkvici6i7DMlnCSQOKDFkv2pHKOC1K4bjCH2L_bold19XUrGTIBKkA2d0jhfAXh_JIna0R_J7jp9SxR12ijMB3lndT3BgA3W/s1600/lunch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsZ8zs1GB5al1hPnL3OB_S0lI0EZ6HyywiRVIjkuhm_iirkvici6i7DMlnCSQOKDFkv2pHKOC1K4bjCH2L_bold19XUrGTIBKkA2d0jhfAXh_JIna0R_J7jp9SxR12ijMB3lndT3BgA3W/s320/lunch.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_yx85so="144" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Avo, Tomato on a toasted wrap made at work)</span></em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">And here I am going around calling myself a Runner… pfft. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_yx85so="293" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">As a side note because even as a rookie Runner and now apparently Eater I do make time for other fun things: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Running partner and I tired something new. We did a wine class with some oil painting. Wait I said that wrong. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We did an oil painting class with some wine. Great time, not ideal for meeting new guys but great second date place (hint for anyone that needs ideas). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_yx85so="501" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Look at how great we did.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" closure_uid_yx85so="482" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB5v1H1jaoqUg1ezea2EGr7Xp4R5XioqLG4wJrkrF1R-U7GOq9rxSHjpnWzl-DQuh7pAUfjzMpOhn7qxix7Fy9lbkDT9EBsEW_4i_pJp096fO5CLJtYaQf5yLEz54wEm7PES4vKrHXBDxv/s1600/paintnwine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB5v1H1jaoqUg1ezea2EGr7Xp4R5XioqLG4wJrkrF1R-U7GOq9rxSHjpnWzl-DQuh7pAUfjzMpOhn7qxix7Fy9lbkDT9EBsEW_4i_pJp096fO5CLJtYaQf5yLEz54wEm7PES4vKrHXBDxv/s320/paintnwine.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUl_l01PW0ERL-DKpknJjVUoCSzdGgr96XHHatHEE9D5Fl0YLRcHablKm0o8mpQu9J9FeqQ2tVMDqAbbY60j8HLTWXUK6jvKRVz5ZP1i7zEBwYlyOiyJIiU3GwlMEr_VijtZFOQJZsw-u/s1600/painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUl_l01PW0ERL-DKpknJjVUoCSzdGgr96XHHatHEE9D5Fl0YLRcHablKm0o8mpQu9J9FeqQ2tVMDqAbbY60j8HLTWXUK6jvKRVz5ZP1i7zEBwYlyOiyJIiU3GwlMEr_VijtZFOQJZsw-u/s320/painting.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span closure_uid_yx85so="606" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">So to sum up Week 8 going into 9… we got it done. Need I even mention the lesson learned? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong closure_uid_yx85so="650">What do you do to keep yourself sane during training and what non-running things did you do to make life normal? </strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Happy Friday</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" closure_uid_yx85so="166" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibIjSnoW6Wxy27pmFf3OtVnRQEGpahSjMnNLK_DrlOkvaL95YTDBFdOOjby2Ub6PZwFcDm6z4FxXepYBX5MLpUpC2O_aGPq5YjG9Xv63WpiZ0r-CYU5J3lT42JsJ0_Ww0ydffgcFgXq0GE/s1600/happy+friday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibIjSnoW6Wxy27pmFf3OtVnRQEGpahSjMnNLK_DrlOkvaL95YTDBFdOOjby2Ub6PZwFcDm6z4FxXepYBX5MLpUpC2O_aGPq5YjG9Xv63WpiZ0r-CYU5J3lT42JsJ0_Ww0ydffgcFgXq0GE/s200/happy+friday.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_yx85so="151" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div></div>Illanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04444864520609808345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523541679038266519.post-31809188591321684782011-08-19T07:34:00.000-07:002011-08-19T07:39:40.284-07:00Well I’m still trying to figure it out….<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div closure_uid_pbfv85="112"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/" name="OLE_LINK1"></a><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span closure_uid_ucsm6y="926" style="font-family: Arial;"><span closure_uid_pbfv85="140" style="color: black;">Week 7 finished out pretty uneventful with a 12 mile on Saturday morning 7am. My running partner is completely to blame for the late start and me threatening to beat people with my very cheap red patent leather high heel the night before had nothing to do with it. </span></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div closure_uid_pbfv85="139"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">I was a little disappointed that at mile 9.5 I was getting moody. </span></span></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_ucsm6y="932" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-HEfEbeOMhX_K0_9PCrNIvLqaddpi7lX2RrQPIYrypvKxlrO3no-tKzigj2kGIT-KZ9cSZ1DNOCljNvB80sFb54Mo9dCGkIqd7BSXo9_eCrgKQuXOIM_j79n5AWuAGdYSyTSmegniLFq8/s1600/CIMG1440.JPG"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f"><stroke joinstyle="miter"></stroke><formulas><f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"></f><f eqn="sum @0 1 0"></f><f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"></f><f eqn="prod @2 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @0 0 1"></f><f eqn="prod @6 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"></f></formulas><path gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect" o:extrusionok="f"></path><lock aspectratio="t" v:ext="edit"></lock></shapetype></span></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"></span></span></a><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" closure_uid_pbfv85="141" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-HEfEbeOMhX_K0_9PCrNIvLqaddpi7lX2RrQPIYrypvKxlrO3no-tKzigj2kGIT-KZ9cSZ1DNOCljNvB80sFb54Mo9dCGkIqd7BSXo9_eCrgKQuXOIM_j79n5AWuAGdYSyTSmegniLFq8/s1600/CIMG1440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-HEfEbeOMhX_K0_9PCrNIvLqaddpi7lX2RrQPIYrypvKxlrO3no-tKzigj2kGIT-KZ9cSZ1DNOCljNvB80sFb54Mo9dCGkIqd7BSXo9_eCrgKQuXOIM_j79n5AWuAGdYSyTSmegniLFq8/s320/CIMG1440.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">(I knew she was looking at my ass)</span></em></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_ucsm6y="862" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUYgsZh4UbKuLh_ceIhnwovw1s3oB5scb9MUuIitFKnIzrNMACLeSNl5SU1Bvj0TeTJudcAW0eqp95s1v1XUkqEwI3l4MkD5xkgqyayjyWQTmLOPJckz34bPUhBxD7JJYSNEn2Batl-TzW/s1600/CIMG1442.JPG"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"></span></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"></span></span></a><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUYgsZh4UbKuLh_ceIhnwovw1s3oB5scb9MUuIitFKnIzrNMACLeSNl5SU1Bvj0TeTJudcAW0eqp95s1v1XUkqEwI3l4MkD5xkgqyayjyWQTmLOPJckz34bPUhBxD7JJYSNEn2Batl-TzW/s1600/CIMG1442.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUYgsZh4UbKuLh_ceIhnwovw1s3oB5scb9MUuIitFKnIzrNMACLeSNl5SU1Bvj0TeTJudcAW0eqp95s1v1XUkqEwI3l4MkD5xkgqyayjyWQTmLOPJckz34bPUhBxD7JJYSNEn2Batl-TzW/s320/CIMG1442.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><em><span closure_uid_ucsm6y="863" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">(Trying to humor ourself)</span></em></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I was, without a doubt, in need of an attitude adjustment considering if we were on race day I would have 16.7 miles still to go. Yes I pulled out a calculator to figure that out, don’t judge. Aside from chitchatting with my running partner we did come across something really cool and no it is not the amazing breakfast I made for myself and my roommate.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcEC2UN_SUyWU70ePUCyBM4pV38QTZTa877YbsQ6aCoFn-Pp-vZ73Rx8kjtN0XrJarLciyLzOW8yi50x1aTZi5KweQcXgpqq3UO-cJohzm6DT4Y9fbYcc_GWdFurIIW8Wrc_7stpLk5EG2/s1600/bfast.jpg"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"></span></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"></span></span></a><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcEC2UN_SUyWU70ePUCyBM4pV38QTZTa877YbsQ6aCoFn-Pp-vZ73Rx8kjtN0XrJarLciyLzOW8yi50x1aTZi5KweQcXgpqq3UO-cJohzm6DT4Y9fbYcc_GWdFurIIW8Wrc_7stpLk5EG2/s1600/bfast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcEC2UN_SUyWU70ePUCyBM4pV38QTZTa877YbsQ6aCoFn-Pp-vZ73Rx8kjtN0XrJarLciyLzOW8yi50x1aTZi5KweQcXgpqq3UO-cJohzm6DT4Y9fbYcc_GWdFurIIW8Wrc_7stpLk5EG2/s320/bfast.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">(Yes that is waffle with mushed up frozen banana and chocolate sauce. I finished my Choc milk before the photo- op)</span></em></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">No, this is what we came across....</span></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jqm2AbeNPfiBMy25n5sx4GWsPxSxlWWx35kNoFibl5f9zmg2_6lR7fcD7GHv9JbPQQ2P5whTUi38Jsmo2N0Ng7HUim-Fb6CUZDtfI7-RLj7CaT2_b6kAL6QdijSWH-6VAUTV8ZrT3M6r/s1600/CIMG1446.JPG"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"></span></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"></span></span></a><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jqm2AbeNPfiBMy25n5sx4GWsPxSxlWWx35kNoFibl5f9zmg2_6lR7fcD7GHv9JbPQQ2P5whTUi38Jsmo2N0Ng7HUim-Fb6CUZDtfI7-RLj7CaT2_b6kAL6QdijSWH-6VAUTV8ZrT3M6r/s1600/CIMG1446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jqm2AbeNPfiBMy25n5sx4GWsPxSxlWWx35kNoFibl5f9zmg2_6lR7fcD7GHv9JbPQQ2P5whTUi38Jsmo2N0Ng7HUim-Fb6CUZDtfI7-RLj7CaT2_b6kAL6QdijSWH-6VAUTV8ZrT3M6r/s320/CIMG1446.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">(He is REAL)</span></em></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Not only is Santa real but HE RUNS TOO! How cool is that. You might have noticed Santa sporting pink hair</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwGSgdDYvyolZZp4S4OD6MUYsbQeXbNv4U8ClzcdDULurtRMghfsq4WYBxGhNY11R8fuZP-BJPtkixrBNnrpCsvQjcYc0Vbzo34awymBxpWo8N43Nh9ECib8z94gOKKAYEgq2BZC_2N6V1/s1600/Santa+summer+pink.jpg"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"></span></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"></span></span></a><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwGSgdDYvyolZZp4S4OD6MUYsbQeXbNv4U8ClzcdDULurtRMghfsq4WYBxGhNY11R8fuZP-BJPtkixrBNnrpCsvQjcYc0Vbzo34awymBxpWo8N43Nh9ECib8z94gOKKAYEgq2BZC_2N6V1/s1600/Santa+summer+pink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwGSgdDYvyolZZp4S4OD6MUYsbQeXbNv4U8ClzcdDULurtRMghfsq4WYBxGhNY11R8fuZP-BJPtkixrBNnrpCsvQjcYc0Vbzo34awymBxpWo8N43Nh9ECib8z94gOKKAYEgq2BZC_2N6V1/s320/Santa+summer+pink.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">(Can you tell I am now feeling like a selfconscious idiot getting my picture taken with a Santa?)</span></em></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span closure_uid_ucsm6y="897" style="font-family: Arial;">Well he is doing it for a really awesome reason <a href="http://www.splatdog.com/">http://www.splatdog.com/</a> . Once he raises $8500 he is going to shave the pink hair down into a mohawk… badass Big S. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span closure_uid_ucsm6y="901" style="font-family: Arial;">This of course reminded me of my quest for the perfect charity to latch on to and do what I love to do. Help People. For several months now it has been on my mind to combine my passions (running and helping) with an organization but there are so many out there and no one charity is more important than another. (Oh dear what do I do). This dilemma was highlighted yet again when I perused my competition in the Chocolate Milk Refuel Team Contest. Dear lord people are doing such amazing things in their life. But I am not about to let that put a stop to anything. Although I am a huge advocate for the DC Central Kitchen (Speaking of them I am all over this </span></span></span><a href="http://www.helpthehomelessdc.org/site/PageServer?pagename=11_information_walkathon_map_and_info" target="_blank"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial;">http://www.helpthehomelessdc.org</span></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"></span></span></a><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial;">) mainly because one my biggest driving forces is my fear of ending up homeless and with no food. Very possible when your family lives 10 000 miles away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span closure_uid_ucsm6y="905" style="color: black; font-family: Arial;">So aside from been reminded that there are amazing people out there, not overdoing the training (sticking to the schedule) and just having great girl talk with running partner the week has been uneventful. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16pt;">WAIT a minute!!!!!!</span></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial;">There was the ever so painful 3 mile run on a treadmill. I have decided come hell, high water or lightening I am running outside. </span></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQm-sLmdsavfIoAv8U3PUPbcMvk0qpiIIWChSbfOrdy9WsJa6TmXSdyJR4WxkOk78Co-nLWPY9j0F1OqyDnR_kNw-DxoEFO2yTPMfLYmPkCYy87zBKlcdIWCR6jdPrHAq736q6rL0E85wz/s1600/fitnessfacility2.jpg"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"></span></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"></span></span></a><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" closure_uid_ucsm6y="896" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQm-sLmdsavfIoAv8U3PUPbcMvk0qpiIIWChSbfOrdy9WsJa6TmXSdyJR4WxkOk78Co-nLWPY9j0F1OqyDnR_kNw-DxoEFO2yTPMfLYmPkCYy87zBKlcdIWCR6jdPrHAq736q6rL0E85wz/s1600/fitnessfacility2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQm-sLmdsavfIoAv8U3PUPbcMvk0qpiIIWChSbfOrdy9WsJa6TmXSdyJR4WxkOk78Co-nLWPY9j0F1OqyDnR_kNw-DxoEFO2yTPMfLYmPkCYy87zBKlcdIWCR6jdPrHAq736q6rL0E85wz/s320/fitnessfacility2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><em><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">(The treadmill that even Hell would not like)</span></em></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial;">Now looking at this picture everything looks fine, nothing out of the ordinary, right? Well look again… do you see the door on the mirrored wall? Well that door is smack in the middle of my ability to check my ass out while running. I have lost 2 of my 4 butt cheeks and since there is NOTHING else to do while on a treadmill I would like to take at least one min to critic my hard work. BUT NOOOOOOOOOO there has to be a stupid door in the way. Lesson learned rather commit suicide than run on a treadmill again. My apologies to those who are sensitive to suicide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial;">I digress</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_ucsm6y="924" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial;">Thank you everyone for voting for me. I am so grateful!!!!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_ucsm6y="924" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_ucsm6y="924" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial;">Running partner shared this with me:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_ucsm6y="924" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span id="yui_3_2_0_5_1313756500059353" style="font-weight: bold;">"There is no passion to be found playing small - in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living".</span></div><div id="yui_3_2_0_5_1313756500059355"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Nelson Mandela</span></div></div>Illanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04444864520609808345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523541679038266519.post-7230972999184333262011-08-12T05:41:00.000-07:002011-08-12T05:51:35.609-07:00Body vs Stubborn Head…Body is the reigning champion.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span closure_uid_8yo0w7="164" closure_uid_rg2l55="685" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">In an attempt to bring the two lifestyles together I thought a cocktail (notice how I said “a”) on a Friday evening should be nice, followed by a good nights rest before Saturday 6am 7 mile long run. That thought was very valiant (cough cough stupid cough) of me because a 7mile run with 3 hours of sleep and then 5.5 mile run in the evening (did we mention stupid already) all came together at 3am Sunday morning*. Nothing prettier than me sprawled out on the bathroom tile floor trying to break a spike in temperature by absorbing every ounce of cold from the tiles, occasionally mustering up the energy to expel anything and everything in my body. Problem with that is I didn’t eat very well AT ALL last week so this whole adventure just flat out sucked. Luckily I learned my lesson very quickly and now we can talk about something more awesome. By the way the lesson learned EAT FOOD while training, don't have late nights and don’t do more than the schedule says (I know I said that a couple of weeks ago and someone was kind enough to feed me my own words back… thx) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_rg2l55="119" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span closure_uid_8yo0w7="198" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Some may be wondering why I threw in an extra 5.5 miles Saturday. Well, because I got to do the coolest thing EVER. I was able to participate in a mini-Ragnar with some of my running group friends. So for those that don’t know what a Ragnar is I looked up the definition and I got “Ragnar: </span><strong><span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: normal; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Definition</span></strong><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"> </span></b><span closure_uid_rg2l55="686" lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">of Insanity”. No but really here is the link to the description of Ragnar </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://www.ragnarrelay.com/about"><span style="color: purple;">http://www.ragnarrelay.com/about</span></a>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_rg2l55="119" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_8yo0w7="172" closure_uid_rg2l55="119" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>(At check-in folding map for bra insertion)</em></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_8yo0w7="187" closure_uid_rg2l55="120" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> <a closure_uid_rg2l55="157" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi97CNmtZMM2fj0wmfulEakoO9fYm38dacJaZwdmdEGRwFG2_S48LhQKQXULzh9LG3bCueqGHx5vUIf6pa3N09dZDut6PFkmRes2BCZcz_Ww1LMX93w-7K4rM6-LUCiV4T6JabEF5Ef4C5g/s1600/ragnarstart1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi97CNmtZMM2fj0wmfulEakoO9fYm38dacJaZwdmdEGRwFG2_S48LhQKQXULzh9LG3bCueqGHx5vUIf6pa3N09dZDut6PFkmRes2BCZcz_Ww1LMX93w-7K4rM6-LUCiV4T6JabEF5Ef4C5g/s320/ragnarstart1.JPG" width="296" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" closure_uid_rg2l55="208" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_rg2l55="347" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span closure_uid_8yo0w7="171" closure_uid_rg2l55="117" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">So with little to no sleep in me, one visit to a sushi buffet all day and my superhero T-shirt, I laced up and waited anxiously at the start of the 2<sup>nd</sup> leg for the band to be snapped on my arm. </span></div><div class="separator" closure_uid_8yo0w7="170" closure_uid_rg2l55="542" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em><span closure_uid_rg2l55="556" style="font-size: x-small;">(1st leg runner coming up to snap me)</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_rg2l55="347" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span closure_uid_rg2l55="117" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a closure_uid_rg2l55="191" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSfR3_GYwOxuh6x7OZE_rUgDWXYW872uNWP8jQOYx3lxH500GuBD8TY4eiPFV4YwA1hF6etTRi5Go5skcjO2GlaEvYTY1d5_kxZQ1mqeNr29f5pme7030bAyMHDPZSAlXPrOMO5h-kDiZA/s1600/Shawn+running+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSfR3_GYwOxuh6x7OZE_rUgDWXYW872uNWP8jQOYx3lxH500GuBD8TY4eiPFV4YwA1hF6etTRi5Go5skcjO2GlaEvYTY1d5_kxZQ1mqeNr29f5pme7030bAyMHDPZSAlXPrOMO5h-kDiZA/s320/Shawn+running+up.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_8yo0w7="188" closure_uid_rg2l55="347" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span closure_uid_rg2l55="117" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><em>(Ragnar band)</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_8yo0w7="190" closure_uid_rg2l55="347" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span closure_uid_rg2l55="117" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXhqW8YtCCGJAOX4Ye6SHg5SbDp7Fp3YiWPgP6KoitxUryIO0oMB-tQIOMIhjQ7ZAgWMaikg_oFFSlfqA-mUw6B0_PpdNCc25WejnsifVpdbXs7PbSU583Jk94vVNI0AlZPmuheW4KkZZH/s1600/band.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXhqW8YtCCGJAOX4Ye6SHg5SbDp7Fp3YiWPgP6KoitxUryIO0oMB-tQIOMIhjQ7ZAgWMaikg_oFFSlfqA-mUw6B0_PpdNCc25WejnsifVpdbXs7PbSU583Jk94vVNI0AlZPmuheW4KkZZH/s320/band.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_rg2l55="347" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div closure_uid_8yo0w7="191"><span closure_uid_8yo0w7="95" closure_uid_rg2l55="117" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Print out of the map folded and shoved in my sports bra and water bottle in hand I jet off from <placename w:st="on">Pentagon</placename> <placetype w:st="on">City</placetype> to <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Logan</place></city> circle. No idea where <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Logan</place></city> circle is but there I go. Less than 1 mile later a group of fellow Ragnar ladies yell out to me “Do you know where you are going” I respond “Sure I do”… I don’t think they picked up on my sarcasm. I struggled my way through the next 3 miles only needing to pull the paper map out of my soaking wet bra 3 times (note to self: paper and sweat don’t work well together).</span></div><div align="center" closure_uid_8yo0w7="191"></div><div closure_uid_8yo0w7="163"><span closure_uid_8yo0w7="95" closure_uid_rg2l55="117" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2k9D36oA5wPzLw7Aych8sg8eEsORYeL3b14msZRre0eeuv7cA6MWfZX3mamucLNTOg_XoFLovPwnrauqoTIOKS3Yx0HOOBPAYGBNzxzNUjgAMNT24zOprZFt5evljTvPLTlRTGgbj52J/s1600/map.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2k9D36oA5wPzLw7Aych8sg8eEsORYeL3b14msZRre0eeuv7cA6MWfZX3mamucLNTOg_XoFLovPwnrauqoTIOKS3Yx0HOOBPAYGBNzxzNUjgAMNT24zOprZFt5evljTvPLTlRTGgbj52J/s320/map.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div><div closure_uid_8yo0w7="163"><br />
</div><span closure_uid_8yo0w7="95" closure_uid_q8n8r3="94" closure_uid_rg2l55="117" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> Up before P St, and yes I thought gosh I would like to pee right about now, we were signaled up a hill which last I checked no one told me there were hills, but its okay I was going to take this hill and make it mine. Not only did I bitch slap the hill but apparently it was my calling to take the whole Pst and show it who is boss. I was not about to let people pass me or let little orange hand signals on the traffic lights stop me or let stupid pedestrians get in my way. The last mile the only thoughts going through my mind was “girl your feet are lined up, your hips are faced straight ahead and your heart and sights are looking Ragnars and Ultras right in the face, this is YOUR time”. Yes I have been bitten and I have been bitten hard. I gave up on planning every step my life a longtime ago and now that I have surrendered I can see that my higher power is pulling me in a certain direction and that direction involves some crazyass shenanigans. Life is good and only going to get better. </span></div><div class="separator" closure_uid_rg2l55="552" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhje7u3vVyzxSphLCQQskwV-ClxPcUCyuDZEYW6ejRu3LqqAiPTbTjCepGP5n7-so4QDJcFvOF0wBVTNCmPYuZL_ST6zY4K9Zb7oQxnlBOs0q0ir86iBslGH0AT-TXZEv7AWV2SVbjqPNEA/s1600/ragnar4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhje7u3vVyzxSphLCQQskwV-ClxPcUCyuDZEYW6ejRu3LqqAiPTbTjCepGP5n7-so4QDJcFvOF0wBVTNCmPYuZL_ST6zY4K9Zb7oQxnlBOs0q0ir86iBslGH0AT-TXZEv7AWV2SVbjqPNEA/s320/ragnar4.jpg" width="228" /></a></div><div class="separator" closure_uid_rg2l55="552" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em><strong><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Bring it on!)</span></strong></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_rg2l55="550" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div closure_uid_8yo0w7="165"><span closure_uid_rg2l55="536" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Speaking of better... I am happy to say my running partner is back on track and graced me with her presence for our Wednesday run…. Everything is how it should be again. Food is cooked and ready to be eaten often, running partner is back and life is good. Yippi. </span></div><div closure_uid_8yo0w7="165"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_8yo0w7="165"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">*No I did not puke my guts out from drinking too much. </span></div></div></div>Illanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04444864520609808345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523541679038266519.post-1093208839586445822011-08-02T11:41:00.000-07:002011-08-02T11:41:27.577-07:00Alcoholics Anonymous may have this all wrong…<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Just hand them a pair of sneakers and watch their ability/desire to drink diminish. </div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_ysx980="140" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_ysx980="141" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">What now seems like a lifetime ago, if I was doing the humiliating walk of shame at 6am I usually would not be paying attention to sunsets or views. Usually more concerned with who might see me. Week 5 of Marine Corps Marathon training ended with this view…</div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_ysx980="141" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV22VIi1yt55SoxV8z0JReAzaWYZs_VS39aIrPtW4_LaSaitWaVW8EoKUTH2nJV8ZSjDJ3o4hjir-f877MMd0Z4_GXz7zncJ6azo2jzQ8wf-GC-xc6svdBZojm85Qh8e_UArVMER4H3sWG/s1600/sunrise2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV22VIi1yt55SoxV8z0JReAzaWYZs_VS39aIrPtW4_LaSaitWaVW8EoKUTH2nJV8ZSjDJ3o4hjir-f877MMd0Z4_GXz7zncJ6azo2jzQ8wf-GC-xc6svdBZojm85Qh8e_UArVMER4H3sWG/s320/sunrise2.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_ysx980="141" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_ysx980="141" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">The prior week I might have had the same beautiful view but the evening before I was given strict instructions to yell “Wench!! Give me some Ale now!” every time I wanted my beer mug refilled. That is apparently how they roll at medieval dinners and I might have gotten a little too comfortable yelling “Wench” to some random woman (A whopping 4 times). Paid dearly for it on the 9.5 mile run the next morning. Unclear as to if I should be embarrassed that it took only 4 beers to create that mess, my mind was put to ease when a fellow runner shared his story of a drinking adventure that ended…. (We don’t know how it ended cos he is not sure how it ended). </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Moral of the story: We think we are runners with a drinking problem but quite frankly we are a bunch of light weights. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">This theory was proven yet again when I thought I would surprise my ‘cover girl stunning’ girlfriend with an unexpected visit. Now most of us know that when we go to Grandma’s house she will have treats for us or if we go to Aunties house she will have something special for us. Well, ‘cover girl stunning’ girlfriend always has champagne. Thank goodness I now live within walking distance from her because 2 glass bowls (doubt she owns flutes) later I am regretting the decision to run at 5:30am the next day. You are most likely wondering why I don’t just run in the evening. Well that’s because I was scheduled to indulge in a love affair with many many pieces of sushi at a Happy Hour the next day. 5:30am Come around and I was successful at completing the 3 mile run followed by 2 showers (“huh?” “Why 2 showers Illana?”). I might have forgotten to do everything people do in the shower because I got so wrapped up in stretching while in the shower. So now with everything done that needed to be done I was ready to dress for my post work sushi happiness. I put my sneakers away, skim over my work shoes (aka flip flops) and grab my patent red leather heels all the while asking myself out loud “So lets get this straight. You are willingly walking into a situation that involves drinking knowing full well you have to run 5 mile tomorrow?”. Most people wonder if going to a Happy hour is a good idea because they might do something they regret later that night… runners wonder how much they are going to regret it on their run the next day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div></div>Illanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04444864520609808345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523541679038266519.post-34846990373502975422011-07-28T08:16:00.001-07:002011-07-28T11:41:55.845-07:00Week 5.. with all its pains and promises<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_1rl4x0="111" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Wrapping up week 5 of <place w:st="on">Marathon</place> training and boy my feet hurt. I would kill for a foot rub…or just name your price. The worst part about an 18 week training program is trying to decide when in the 18 weeks should I use the massage sessions, reflexology sessions or call on all the men that promised me that amazing back rub from my dating days. And you thought it would be putting my sneakers on….you will learn… I have lost my mind! When you lose your mind silly things like putting your sneakers on to go run 10 miles is not that bad. Thank High Power to “happy places” in the mind. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_1rl4x0="110" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">This week is actually a little more challenging because my very important running partner (2<sup>nd</sup> one in this year…first one moved, sure he will come up on occasion in the blogs) is dealing with this annoying thing called pain so I am flying solo. Last week taught me that there is a reason an expert put together a schedule and he might just know what he is talking about. Boss doesn’t like it when on Monday morning I am an hour late and don’t know my name much less his… so no more crazy stunts like running several miles more than the schedule says. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I have never in my life been so driven to follow rules and do exactly as told. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div></div>Illanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04444864520609808345noreply@blogger.com0