I Heart Panera

I love them and their posted calorie count on the menu boards. How I wish all restaurants did this.

A full bowl of black bean soup hit the spot last night, as we met Ms. K for dinner. Perfect for a cold, rainy day. Only 270 calories for a big bowl.

Yum.

Head Games

Part of my taper is more, shorter runs than usual. Yesterday's plan was an easy five miles and today, an easy six.

Yesterday's weather kept this wuss indoors on the treadmill. And, let me tell you, it was sheer torture. I ended up walking about a mile during the five. I was convinced that I was too tired, the incline was too much, the speed was too fast ... I hated every blessed step. I punished myself for that thinking (and the walking) by cranking up the speed on the last mile.

I finished, but it wasn't pretty.

Today, after a busy day, a late night, and pizza (gasp!), I set out for the six miler--outside--with a dreadful outlook.

And it was a piece of cake. In fact, I shaved a full minute off my mile-average time from yesterday. With no issues. No worries. Best of all, had my jam-packed day allowed more time, I felt like I easily could have gone farther.

How is that possible?

Your brain is the HARDEST muscle to train. It will talk you into quitting when your body doesn't need to and it will talk you out of going farther or faster when you body is absolutely capable.

Believe it. Believe in you.

Benefit of Being Thinner #30

I can squeeze past the grocery cart while in line at the checkout lane.

Taper Week

Thus starts the taper.

The taper is the week before the big race where you're feeding your body good stuff and letting it mostly rest in preparation for race day.

I've read a few different training plans and versions of taper week. Mine started sort of by necessity because of my travel schedule. This week is going to focus on:

Good sleep
Ample complex carbohydrates and clean protein/vegetables
More water than usual
Stress avoidance
Race visualization

These last two are going to be the most difficult. I have a very busy work week and I'm horribly worried about the logistics of the race. Where to park? How will I find my cheering crew (Jim!) in the crowd? Where am I going to shower? What if I just feel like crap on race day? How early do I have to wake up?

And then there's the bridge.

We run across a big bridge. HRGirl has informed me that it's a steel grate deck. I hate bridges in a car. I hold my breath. I don't want to see the water under my feet.

But I'm going to spend my downtime watching my feet fly over that steel grate.

Buckle up kids. Here we go!

It Never Ceases to Amaze Me

So, with trepidation, I stepped on the scale this morning. Three days of no workout. (My intentions in my hotel room were good ... they just didn't materialize.) Four days of rather crappy eating: late-night heavy food, too much booth candy, not nearly enough veg, rice and bread and Tollhouse cookie bars. Too many Tollhouse cookie bars.

And guess what?

I weighed the same as I did when I left.

I love how that works.

So when you're out there, mentally cursing the exercise, remember that it will help you on the days you just can't do it. Be nice to your body and it will return the favor. It's a lot like your husband that way.

Nutrition Facts

Garrett's Cheese Popcorn = Whole Grain + Low-Fat Dairy ... right?

And that neon orange color must be extra vitamin C or something.

Thanks for the memories O'Hare and all other airports I've visited in the past four months. I won't be popping in for a while and I'm honestly not going to miss you.

So Tired of Eating

Can't wait to get home tomorrow so I can eat like a normal person. I just want some raw veggies. Lots and lots of raw veggies.

Last night's sushi was good. Tonight's Indian was truly delicious.

But I need something pure and raw and crunchy so very badly.

Charge It?

This pretending-to-be-lavish casino hotel has a fitness center. But they charge you $20/day to use it. (Gives those old people on oxygen smoking cigarettes and drinking shots of whiskey an excuse not to work out, I guess.)

I like to work out. But I'm not paying $20 for the privilege. And this neighborhood is not conducive to outdoor activity. Looks like it's going to be planks, squats, sit ups and such tonight in my room.

Or, I could just lift 12-oz. at a time with the left arm and pull the one-armed bandit with the right ...

Today's Menu

I'm traveling again. This is what I ate today. In order. Ugh. I hate not being on a regular schedule eating at regular times ... I end up snacking too much. Sure, my snacks are healthy, but looking at the list, it's too much food and it's not balanced right. Not enough veg. Too much grain. Tomorrow will be better.

At home/in car to airport ... 3:30 a.m.ish:
Blueberry Bagel Thin with peanut butter
Handful of red grapes
Cherry Coke Zero

On plane:
Kashi shredded wheat, Island Vanilla flavor
Apple
Broken sourdough pretzel pieces
Dove dark chocolate square
Water

During show set up:
More shredded wheat
A couple of pretzel pieces
Big handful of potato chips
Turkey wrap in spinach tortilla
Diet coke

During show:
6 corkscrew noodles in tomato sauce with 1 piece of asparagus, 4 or 5 pieces of zucchini
3 corn chips and salsa
Southern Comfort and Diet Coke

In my room, 9:15 p.m. ish:
Apple
12 almonds
90 calorie Fiber One bar
Water and Advil PM

Scared to Run

As you know by now, Saturday is long run day. This morning, after a day of knee weirdness as in I-can't-put-my-full-weight-on-it-at-the-grocery-store-for-some-strange-out-of-the-blue-reason, I was supposed to hit it early. Needed to hit it early, actually, because there was a lot to get done at the ranch today.

And I was scared to run. 

I have two weeks of training and two weekends to go. After last week's 12+ miles, I'm confident I can go the distance. As a result, my brain has switched from can I do it/obsessed about getting enough miles in to fear that my knee is going to fail and I won't be able to complete the goal. 

I've been pushing pretty hard, but I've been resting more than ever before, too. Logically, I think I'm being smart. But when I get those white hot pains, prolonged stiffness, or comes-and-goes weakness, I panic. 

I putzed around the house for an hour, trying to psyche myself up. Wrestling with the decision of how far to go. Ten miles? Six? Or maybe 11. Or eight. 

When Jim started in on a project that really required my help, I knew I had to kick it in gear and get the damn thing started and let the chips fall where they may. 

It was fine. I went a little over eight. No weakness. No stiffness. 

All was right with the world. 

Just wish I'd gone farther. The good news is Jim put me to work upon my return and I toted 'dat barge and lifted 'dat bale ... so the workout continued without having to actually run. 

(You didn't know I can operate a chop saw, table saw and tin snips, did you? I only bled a little.) 

Asian Salad Obsession

Here's my new favorite combination of salad ingredients. I'm a bit preoccupied with it. Did you know there's only 60 calories in a whole, big bag of spinach? I love it. And I think my biceps are growing.

Asian Salad
Red pepper, diced
Onion, diced
Carrots, diced
Snap peas, cut in 1/2 inch pieces
Sunflower seeds
Chicken
Cilantro
Jalapeno (or any spicy pepper), finely diced
Spinach
Newman's Own Lite Sesame Ginger Dressing

And while I don't have any on hand, bean sprouts would also be good in this. And Napa cabbage. And water chestnuts.

Sweet Dreams

I had the BEST workout this morning!

It happened while I was sleeping. Do you think that counts?

Picture this: It's 4:49 a.m. and I surface for the first time. I roll over, look at the clock, and panic because it's well past my husband's normal 4 a.m. wake-up time. He's still in bed!

"Jim! It's 4:49! WAKE UP! You're late!" The words tumble out of my mouth, zipping past the foggy early morning haze.

"I don't have to be anywhere until 7," he harrumphs and roots deeper into his pillow.

"Oh," I say. With a second glance at the clock, I decide I have about an hour of precious time myself before I need to hit the treadmill. I will myself back to sleep.

Then comes the fantastic workout. Treadmill ... check. Running ... check. Sit-ups ... check. Weights routine ... check. Good sweat, endorphins flowing, all is right with the world.

But it all takes place in my dreams.

Before I know it, I'm waking up at 5:29 a.m. (what's with the 9s?) and I feel amazing. My nocturnal workout briefly flashes before my eyes and the really good feelings are quickly replaced with the sort of disappointing realization that there was no workout and I still have to rally, get downstairs and do it ...

Again.

How Do You Lose Weight?

Trick question, right?

You eat less. You learn how to eat better. You exercise more. And you do it for the rest of your life.

No tricks. No magic. No secret double handshake. A simple math problem. Feed your body what it needs and treat it right.

It's not easy. But it's also not so hard. It's absolutely doable.

Forever.

Kick Ass Burger

I have posted a variation of this before. But I think I've perfected it.

Southwest Turkey Burger
1 20-oz. pkg ground turkey
Good handful of cilantro, chopped fine
1t to 1T jalapeno, chopped fine
2T-3T red onion, chopped fine
1/2 pkg dry taco seasoning
Salt and pepper to taste
Whole wheat buns, toasted
Pepperjack cheese, reduced fat if you can find it
Sliced avacado or guacamole (see below)
Taco sauce

Mix the turkey and fixings (everything listed before buns). Make four patties. Grill burgers, toast buns. Melt cheese and top with avacado slices or guac. Dollop a little taco sauce.

OMG. It's amazing.

Guacamole
2 avacados, cubed. Red onion, chopped. Cilantro, chopped. Jalapeno or serrano, chopped. Juice of half a lime. Salt and pepper. Mix. Couldn't be easier. Or more delicious.

I Accidentally Ran 12.65 Saturday

It was "long run" day Saturday. My busy travel week had afforded only one, 5-mile workout on Tuesday, which meant I had a small conundrum on my hands. The mish-mash of training plans I'm loosely following didn't line up with the week I'd had, nor the time I had left before the race.

So my plan was to run long, but not too long, as long as everything felt good. If anything didn't feel good, I was just going to stop and walk. Max: 11.5.

I set off and everything felt pretty good for the most part. Miles 5, 6 and 7 came pretty easy. At the 8 mark, I was just about home and had what I thought was a 3.5 mile loop to go if I chose. So I ran past the house and continued on.

I walked up two short hills, for a total of about .25 miles ... mostly because I let my head talk me into it. Physically, I was feeling all right. I gave my head a few problems to work through to make the time go faster: Can I carry enough water or do I need to use the water stations on the course? (Will need a couple water station stops.) How many of the gummy energy candy things should I use and when should I take them? (Two at mile 4, two at mile 8.) Where is my life going and how will I know if all of this is right? (Still working on that one!)

So imagine my surprise when I found myself on the last downhill toward my driveway.

I came in and mapped my run (at MapMyRun.com) and learned I'd gone 12.65 miles.

Which means another half mile would put me at the 13.1 I'll need for race day and I think that's doable.

I'm stiff today. My knee was really swollen inside and hurting Sunday, but felt much better today. I wore flats to work just in case and I don't think I damaged anything. Ice and ibuprofen to be on the safe side.

Makes me wonder how far I could go with a good knee. Also makes me confident this distance is the longest I'm going to try. I'm starting to resent the training and wishing I could just go run 6 and be done.

It's enough.

Part 2: To Tell or Not To Tell?

I think I may have led you astray on the first installment of this topic. My apologies.

I appreciate the supportive responses. But I'm feeling a little guilty, because it sort of looked like I was "fishing for compliments" and I wasn't.

The point I didn't make very well was that I wonder how long it takes for my head to stop defining myself as the old me and the new me. How long before I stop worrying about the people that dismissed me when I was bigger ... real or imagined?

How long before I stop feeling guilty for being that version of me?

And how long before I stop apologizing for it or stop worrying about what others think of old me?

Part of me is embarrassed by Situation 1 where someone exposes the old me to someone who didn't know her. I'm genuinely afraid that if someone knows about my past, they will form an opinion of me that's less than flattering. Remember how my old boss declared that I got smarter as I got skinnier? (See here: http://www.carsickcaravan.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-got-smarter-as-i-got-skinnier.html)

And part of me is pissed off that I am kind of embarrassed by the old me. I should have taken control of my life long before I did.

But I also know that I needed to be her then to be me now. And I believe that all things happen for a reason.

Maybe that reason is to be here now to cheer YOU on in your journey.

And cheer I will. As loudly and often as you want me to.

He Flirted with Me!

Home from a long week, on my long run, and who do I pass on the way out of town? That's right. My smoking, walking boyfriend.

You remember him? http://carsickcaravan.blogspot.com/2010/12/dedication.html

He was headed into town. Smoking. I whip out a cheerful, "Good Morning!" and he responds in kind ... with a big smile. Ooooooh! Shivers!

I complete miles four and five, and am headed back into town and who is on the opposite side of the road, on his way back out? You guessed it.

And did I mention that he's got his spring haircut rockin'?

I bat my eyelashes, through the sweat, and he says, "You sure have more energy than I do, you sexy thing!"

OK, I made up that last part. But I'm sure that's what he meant.

To Tell or Not to Tell?

Does it matter now that I used to be bigger?

Situation 1: I'm at a show. I meet some new people manning the booth next to mine. People with whom I may want to explore future opportunities. We're discussing eating. More specifically, we're discussing the not-so-good-for-you happy hour spread that's been thrown out for the conventioneers. I have a small plate of cheese, grapes and nuts. "No wonder you're so tiny," he says. "That's all you eat."

Situation 2: I'm at a supplier event. I'm in line waiting to pick up my name card with a table assignment on it. The VP of said supplier, who hasn't seen me in four years, spots my name tag and does a literal double take. Then he catches my eye and cocks his head. "Is that really you?" he asks. I get a big hug. And then later, after dinner, he swings by again as I'm talking to my new sales rep ... someone I've talked with via email, but never met face-to-face before this evening. (In other words, he only knows THIS me.) VP sits down and says, "So really, what the hell happened? You look fantastic!"

Do I tell or not tell?

Does it matter to new people in Situation 1 or new sales rep in Situation 2 that I was bigger before?

WWMDD?

Miss Daisy disclosed everything in both cases.

I'm not sure why. Maybe someday the "new" will wear off and no one will remember the old me and I won't ever be in a spot where I need to fill in the back story for the new me to make sense.

Or I'll just get tired of talking about it. And making people listen to it.

PB & Plop

Today was a travel day for me. Which meant up at 3:15 a.m. to make a 7 a.m. flight.

Some might wait until they're at the airport before they consider breakfast. But not me. Even though I'm not usually awake at 3 in the morning, my stomach starts growling when I'm getting ready ... no matter what time it actually is.

So, true to form, I toasted a bagel thin, gooped on the Reduced Fat Skippy Chunky, loaded up my travel mug with Cherry Coke Zero and headed out the door in the darkness.

After a few construction zones, one lane-blocking accident and a frantic check in because I was about 30 minutes behind schedule, I found myself in the ladies room as they were calling for my flight's priority boarding passengers.

That's when I looked in the mirror. And saw a big, ol' plop of peanut butter dried on my chin. Just out of tongue range.

Yup. I'd chatted with the lady when I got my boarding pass. I smiled at the TSA agent who took my bag. I exchanged pleasantries with the folks at security screening.

All with a schmear of peanut butter on my face.

Some would be embarrassed by this. Not me. I just scraped it directly into my mouth and enjoyed it.

It's a long time until lunch.

Parallel Universe

I had the strangest conversation today around a boardroom table.

Now, I have had more completely bizarre conversations around a boardroom table in the past three years than I care to count, mind you, as my company is going through some major upheavals. But today's takes the cake.

It was about training for a half marathon. And what you eat on the course. And how you taper. And what clothes you wear. And how a runner's high feels. (We were waiting for the real meeting to start.)

But here's the bizarre part.

I was participating in the conversation, not just listening to it.

Who da' thunk that?

Music In My Ears

The soundtrack of my early morning treadmill runs is the morning TV news. CBS Channel 3, to be more specific. I love cranky, smirky, slightly smarmy Rob Starbuck. Co-anchor Charlotte Deleste is growing on me, but I miss cheerful, yet take-no-shit Susan Siman foiling Rob's curmudgeon-ness. I also like Haddie MacClain because I think she seems like someone's sister who always remembers to bring a casserole when something bad happens.

The soundtrack of my long outdoor runs is much simpler. It's the pounding of my own feet, the rhythm of my own breath and some combination of wind, birds and passing cars, depending on the season, time of day and weather.

Until this past Saturday, that is. 

Yes, I finally caught up to 2002 and tried an iPod.  

Now, in full disclosure, I'm not a connoisseur of music in the first place. I do listen to the radio, but it's almost always NPR or Bob and Tom on my 15 minute commute. It's hardly ever music. I don't like the repeat of the same songs in the same way I don't like to read a book more than once or watch a movie for a second time. And I really just don't like much of what's playing on the airwaves. Most of it annoys me. I'm not sure if I'm fussy, uneducated or both, but much of it just doesn't hold my interest. 

In addition, while I had a Walkman once upon a time, I have never liked having noise/music pumping directly into my head. It makes me feel claustrophobic somehow and I've always figured there's so many voices and conversations going on inside my brain, I don't have room for one more. 

It occurred to me, however, that I might need some distraction during 13 miles. I might need a voice inside my head OTHER than the one that will be saying, "Your knees hurt! You are tired! This is too far! Are you nuts? You can walk at any time... no one will come arrest you. Do it. Just stop."

Hence the iPod Shuffle. And Saturday was try-out day.

I waited to plug in until I was off the roads where cars whiz by at 55 mph, in the spirit of safety. And I waited until I was on mile 7 of a 10 mile run ... right where I thought I'd need a little, ah ... inspiration. 

And it worked. 

When Journey's a capella ending to "Feelin' that way ..." faded out into Ozzy's "All Aboard ... hahaha!" of Crazy Train instead of the traditional "Ooooooh oooh" lead-in of Anytime, I had to laugh out loud. When Billy Squier started in with the familiar strains of "The Stroke," I picked up my pace to match the tempo. And when LMFAO chimed in with "Girl look at that body," I responded out loud with, "I work out!" and groovy arm/hand motions.

Thusly, I spent last night loading more music into that little bugger. I actually don't plan to use it again, however, until race day. The surprise of what will show up and in what order is half of the fun. Maybe I'll get so invigorated, I'll blow past 13 and finish the whole 26.

Or not.

I'm sexy and I know it.

Salt Lick

Ummm, yeah.

Ham is delicous. And salty.

Mashed potatoes are delicious. And salty.

Hard sourdough pretzels after a very long hiatus are delicious. And salty.

Olives are delicious. And salty.

Chex mix is delicious. And satly.

Smoked gouda is delicious. And salty.

You get the drift.

Tomorrow is going to be a puffy day.

Happy Easter!

P.S.

Ten done. I think I have enough left inside to do 11. But I'm not so sure after that. Four weeks to go.

I keep trying to remember that one-legged, blind, 80-year old man who will be there on race day telling me to buck up.

Heaven help me.

Someone Else Understands the Brain Muscle Concept

You've heard me say it a million times. (Well, a few dozen, maybe!) Your brain is the most difficult muscle to train. If you can find a way to get your brain to move to a place where it's engaged and committed to being healthy, making your ass move is not nearly as hard.

I like the way this guy describes it. In the end, I think we all have a bit of a competitive streak inside. And sometimes beating the devil within is the very best kind of victory.
http://thechart.blogs.cnn.com/2012/03/29/april-fools-day-resolution-restarting-my-restart/

Jim's in Training

I ran my first training session today. I made Jim walk two miles.

Jim doesn't like to walk.

My intentions were two-fold.

1) He has committed to run a 5K on May 19. (Learn about the Habitat for Humanity Pound the Pavement Run in Janesville here: http://gazettextra.com/news/2012/apr/03/pound-pavement-habitat-humanity/) May 19 is quickly approaching and while he's in decent enough shape, I'm not sure he can just pop up and run a 5K with no preparation. He's 45 years old with three knee surgeries under his belt, for cry-eye. Though you and I both know he'd do it just to make me jealous.

2) Today was an "off" workout day for me, which means I just lifted a little this morning and did some floor work (and a full 2-minute plank!) in preparation for an attempt at 10 miles tomorrow morning. However, I took my creative team out for burgers at lunch and I really wanted fried fish for dinner. So I had to get some light cardio in to offset all that eating, even if I couldn't do a full-blown run.

So, do you think I'm a hard-ass trainer or a nice one?

Newly Brave

I have to go on a work trip by myself next week that's not a trade show.

It's an event hosted by one of my suppliers for all of their distributors, and includes a networking/reception/cocktails kind of deal and a round of golf.

The old me would have been terrified. But the new me is a little less scared.

You see, I am A-OK working a trade show all by myself. Talking "at" people as if I'm on stage is completely comfortable for me. In the booth, I'm a performer and there's not really one-on-one interaction. I don't have to get personal in any way.

But walking into a room full of people I don't know where I'll have to make chit chat and eat gives me palpitations. And good Lord, spending hours on a golf course with three strangers scares me to death.

Old me would have worried about what everyone was thinking about me or saying about the size of my butt, afraid they were snickering to each other when I was not looking. Old me would have worried about my thighs rubbing together and fat-girl sweat. Old me would have assumed people were passing judgement on me.

New me no longer has those same fears and insecurities. (Nor the same thighs.) Well, that's not true. Those feelings are still there, but they just aren't as bad. The fear that I'll be the biggest woman at the event is gone.

Now all I have to worry about is what a truly awful golfer I am. That's going to be embarrassing no matter what.

Newly Fat

So, what do you think of this Jessica Simpson thing? And how glad are you that people aren't discussing your weight on national TV?

I have to admit, she looks a little strange to me. Like she's stuffed into her skin. I'm guessing she's 4'11" or 5'0" and any weight, even if it's just baby, shows more on her tiny frame. But, for crying out loud ... she's pregnant. Maybe there's twins or triplets in there. If there's one time to not worry about putting on an extra pound or two, I think this is it.

I don't like all the attention it's getting. Mostly because talking about "fat" makes me uncomfortable, I think. And I hate the fact that the conversation allows people to bash on "fat."

Somehow, in this uber-PC world, fat is the only thing that's still OK to make fun of. To talk smack about. To look down on.

That pisses me off.

And did you see the new season of Mad Men? For those of you who don't watch, main character Don Draper's ex wife Betty has put on some pounds. Don has, of course, married his 20-year-old sexy secretary, while Betty chose a distinguished older gentleman for her second husband. I'm not a dedicated-enough viewer to delve into all the subtexts and plot twists her new "condition" will bring. But I find the web chatter about the completely fictitious weight gain so strange.

Bloggers, tweeters, Huffington Post commenters all feel perfectly justified in saying "Betty" is disgusting because she gained weight. The venom with which they chime in on the subject is alarming.

She's not real. You can't hate Betty because she doesn't exist. She's an actress named January Jones in a fat suit (and pregnant during filming).

I'm just glad I'm not January Jones. I imagine she's getting hate mail and death threats, too.

For being fake fat. A curse worse than death.

Isn't that ridiculous?

Rice Cakes Have Come a Long Way!

In my beleaguered search to find a crunch replacement for my beloved sour dough pretzels, I've been experimenting with all sorts of snack foods.

In fact, my pantry is chock full of half-eaten bags of processed foods that I have publicly proclaimed to not eat.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. And that whole "don't eat crap in bags with chemicals as primary ingredients" mandate has gone out the Lenten window, so to speak.

I have recently rediscovered rice cakes and, boy, how they've changed.

My favorites?

• Quaker brand Quakes Rice Snacks, Sweet Chili flavor. They made a recent favorites list. As the name implies, they're sweet and a little hot. And thin and crispy.
  
• Popcorn Indiana's Chipins, Hot Buffalo Wing flavor. These aren't as good as the Sweet Chili deals, but they're shaped like triangular Doritos and have some fake orange color ... so they're a good fake out that makes you think you're eating something "bad" while not being too terrible.
  
• Quaker brand Multigrain Fiber Crisps, Wild Blueberry flavor. These are delicious! They're nutty and super crunchy. They're sweet enough to feel like a dessert treat and would be great crumbled up on yogurt.
  
• I also like the Quaker Caramel Corn flavor. Haven't tried the chocolate ones. Have you?

(But I'm going to be honest. Baked Cheetos are the best crunch replacement. The unfortunate thing is I can't stop after a few. So I find it better to just avoid them.)
 

Pretzel Countdown: 5 Days

I can eat pretzels on Sunday! I can eat pretzels on Sunday!

Big, crunchy, hard sourdough pretzels!

You can bet I'm gonna eat at least a half bag as soon as I kick my family out of my house after our Easter celebration.

I just hope I can be polite and not kick them out too early.

Addiction is hard.

You Think You Can't Go Farther?

Weekends = long runs as I try to get ready to kick this 13.1 in the rear. Last week was busy and the long run had to get squeezed into a very hectic Saturday morning.

We woke up early. Jim headed to his dad's to build a garden shed and my niece and I headed to town to get donuts ... a sleepover tradition. On our way to the Dunkin spot, we drove past a woman I frequently see walking on weekday mornings. This day, she was wearing a sky blue track suit and had a little ankle-biter dog with her.

We pick up the donuts, Miss O. eats three on the way back to the in-laws and we share the remaining dozen and a half with the building crew. I get her all set up with a laptop, paper and crayons and hit the road. About an hour and a half later, I'm in the home stretch and I see the same sky blue track suit walking toward me.

Now, at this point, it's been more than two hours since I saw her the first time. And it's at a point in my run where I'm looking for ANY reason to quit. My brain is trying to convince the rest of me that my knees hurt too much or my lungs hurt too much or I'm too hot or too thirsty or whatever.

But the sky blue track suit just keeps coming at me.

Surely she can't have been walking for more than two hours, can she?

As I get closer, I can see how old she is. And she's old. 70 if she's a day.

All of a sudden, I'm not so tired.

"Good morning!" I cry out as I approach her. "Didn't I see you two hours ago when I was on my way to town?" I ask.

"Yes! I was walking my dog!" she responds.

"How far do you go?" I inquire as I pull up alongside of her.

"I have a six-mile route," she divulges.

"Good for you! Have a great day!" I shout as I cruise past.

Six miles. The 70+-year-old woman walks six miles on Saturdays. Maybe every day. And 44-year-old me is bitching about running eight miles? Really?

The last half-mile suddenly wasn't so hard.

The morale of the story? Lots of people way worse-off than you do a hell of a lot more because they want to and because it's important to them. If you're ever thinking you're too tired or too sore or too "insert your favorite excuse here", think of the old lady in the sky blue track suit. If she can do it, you can do it.

You'd hate for her to kick your ass, right?

Epilogue: I'm recounting this story to a table of family at my mom's surprise bday party that afternoon. Nurse Jackie, a single mom who's training for her first marathon right now says, "Oh yeah. Just wait until you finish your 13.1 and look around and see the 80-year-old blind man with one leg who finishes 10 steps in front of you. It feels like a great accomplishment on one hand and then you get slapped back to reality."

Your BODY is capable of many, many amazing things. If your freaking BRAIN would quit talking you out of them.

You can do whatever you set your mind to, friends.