New Year, New Start

It's time for me to come clean.

I haven't been here in a while because I'm a bit embarrassed.

I have put pounds back on and I haven't had the courage to tell you about it. I haven't wanted to admit it to myself, number one. I haven't wanted you to silently feel sorry for me. I also haven't wanted you to cheer me on/up/forward with a "You got this, girl!"

(And I know you mean well with that last one. But truly, it makes me feel like the most lame-o, narcissistic, pathetic being. As if I'm intentionally feeling sorry for myself out loud, hoping you'll chime in and pat me on the back. I'm sure that a therapist would have a wonderful time with that.)

Here are the facts:
Most of my clothes don't fit. Those that do are tight and unflattering ... and I'm uncomfortable in them. I only have two bras that sort of fit and even my underwear is too small.

My hair and my skin look tired. My eyes are puffy. I ache and I no longer feel strong.

I am tired, moody, emotional and sort of difficult to live with. I am mad at myself. Disappointed, really. And I'm letting it get to me.

I am still running. About 16-20 miles per week. But it's getting harder and harder as I get heavier and as I let the negative talk take over my brain. I was lifting a couple of times a week, but a shoulder injury has put the kibosh on that for now. And I have not been to RIPPED in ages ... my schedule has just not lined up with available class times.

I am eating with abandon. Essentially nothing is off limits and my ratio of healthy vs. non-healthy choices is waaaaaaay off.

So, what did I do today to try and counter all of that?

I registered for a weekend class in Lake Zurich IL in April where I will become a certified running coach.

Seems obvious, right? My whole process is a shambles, so I think sitting in a room full of "real" runners and perhaps fitness professionals seems like a great idea! I can't keep my own shit in order, but I'll go find out how to tell other people how to organize theirs.

My single goal is to LEARN ... and if I'm the only one who ever uses the information, so be it. Of course, it will also give me some incentive to get back on track between now and then. That's an extra bonus.

Perhaps the best thing, though is that the mere thought of it scares me to death. I'm guessing I will likely be the most inexperienced person in the room. Or the heaviest. Or the one with the least self-confidence about being there.

I firmly believe doing something scary is a good way to get over a hump ... to shake the cobwebs out of your head and force yourself into a better place. The challenge, and the completion of it, turns up the volume on your "I can do it" meter.

The saga continues.

Forward

Hey. 

I hope you didn't forget about me. 

I didn't forget about you ... I've just been a little sideways. 

I was out for a 6-miler on Sunday, on a road I've traipsed a zillion times, lost in my head, making things far more complicated than I needed to, as usual. I was doubting my ability to finish my intended route. I was beating myself up about my failures over the past few months. Then I saw this: 

A simple blob of tar or road patch or blacktop on the pavement. Pointing forward. 

Letting me know that "forward" was where I needed to go. 

So I went. 

And I'm still going. 

I hope you are, too. 

Gears, Pedals and Seats, Oh My!

Welcome back to Part 2 of "Bikes for Beginners." Or "The Completely Non-Mechanical, Non-Scientific and Non-Expert Description of Road Bikes and Mountain Bikes." (Catchy title, right?)

Today, we'll talk about some personal preference items ... gears, pedals and seats.

GEARS: Gears mess me up.

Not because I don't know how to make them work but because I'm not great at knowing when the right time to shift is. Also, I have this caveman spot in my brain that says I should pedal for as long as possible in the hardest gear I can stand, because then I'm getting a good workout. Sweat = good. Of course that's not true. But my skull is also thick ... you know, like a caveman.

I think bikes just come with the number of gears they come with. (You're riveted by this expert commentary, aren't you?) I suppose you can modify them to be something different, but why? That being said, there is a difference between our two bikes.

The sole purpose of gears in the first place is that they allow you to keep a steady pedaling pace as you move up hills, down hills, all around town. A steady cadence helps you go farther with less effort. If you're a good shifter, you gear though inclines with ease.

I have a potential for 16 gear combinations ... my chain can move between two sprockets on the front and eight on the back. Jim has 21 total gear combinations ... three sprockets on the front and seven on the rear. In my opinion, neither one is better or worse. I'm guessing the more varied the terrain, the more gear combinations you may want to keep that effortless, steady pace going.

All I know is that I need the easy gears to get me up steep, long hills. And I'll find them wherever they are. Advice from my expert brother-in-law? Shift before you think you need to and never under strain.

When you change gears, your left hand directs the chain where to sit
on the sprockets by the pedals. I have two rings there, and Jim has
three. Your right hand moves the chain between a set of rings (sprockets)
on the rear. I have eight stacked up there and Jim has seven. 

PEDALS
This is a basic pedal, much like the one on Jim's bike and just like the one you remember on your banana-seat one speed from 1973. It's functional. It works. You already understand it.You push it down, the bike moves forward. Period.

This is a pedal with a "cage" on it It's what I have on my bike:

It's a bit smaller than the first pedal and the toe of your shoe slides into the basket-like part. What this allows is you to use some "pull" in addition to "push" when you pedal, thereby giving you a bit more umph. (That's the technical term.) On the normal pedal above, one leg is always relaxing and one is working. With the cage, both legs can be working to move you down the road.

Then there's this contraption:



They're known as "clips" because your specially-purchased-and-sort-of-expensive bike shoe literally clips ON to the pedal. Yes, your feet are attached to the bike.

They strike fear in me. I am too scared to try them. I picture myself approaching a stop sign and suddenly unable to unhook my feet from the pedals, ass over applecart as the bike falls over with me on it. I also find the noise the shoe makes when you walk into a gas station to use the bathroom a little silly. Think tap shoes.

The clip set-up gives you even MORE pull than the cage, which is why people like it. It makes you faster and gives you more bang for your pedaling buck.

Full disclosure: If you ever sign up for a bike riding event, all the cool kids will have bike shoes and clips. Some may even look at you and your pedal cages or naked pedals with little smirks. Let it roll right off of you. The amount of benefit you get from either is absolutely negligible to the average Sunday driver. If you plan on long routes, and want to work on decreasing your time, look into them. If you want to enjoy 7 or 8 miles on the bike trail, don't worry.

SEATS: And now perhaps the most important thing ... the seat. Officially it's called a saddle, so consider yourself forewarned should you get into a conversation with a purist.

My seat is on the left, Jim's on the right. Mine has essentially no padding and is flatter, narrower and overall smaller.

Prior to this week, I would have told you that all seats are so similar, it would be hard to tell the difference ... and as long as you have good padding in your shorts, it just doesn't matter that much. That's truly what I thought, in all my worldly expertise.

I stand corrected.

And I'm standing because my mommy parts still hurt from riding Jim's bike for one ass-numbing day.

So here's what I know about seats:

1. They're adjustable three ways on a good bike. Up and down (height) is the obvious way. They also adjust forward and back (front tire to rear tire) and angle (nose to heel).

2. More padding isn't better. I liken it to a pillow top mattress, which I hate. The padding can get worn from the way your but fits the seat, causing weird pockets of pouf. What seems like a little thing  at the beginning of a ride is a very big thing after an hour.

3. It's completely personal. Your butt is shaped different than mine. Our sit bones are in different places. We weigh different amounts. Our height is different. Our rides are different. And what's comfortable to you may not feel good to me.

4. The goal is to sit light, not heavy. When you get tired or when you're not in biking shape, you tend to sit heavy in the seat. You hunker down and push your pedals. The heavier you sit, the more your butt hurts. Riding light, if that makes sense, is just easier on your butt. Put your weight in your feet. Stand up and stretch every now and then. Gear properly so you're not forced to push so hard. The seat isn't there to "ride on." It's there to support you.

5. Seats have different scoop outs, contours, some even have holes in the middle and are marketed as more comfortable for men. As you can imagine, daddy parts don't logically line up with the whole bike seat concept. Since I don't have daddy parts, I can't speak to the benefit of any of these. But I can say, with complete certainty, that Jim's seat is a torture device for mommy parts, so I can only imagine what it does to him. We're shopping for a new one this week.

Tomorrow we finish with gear. (And don't lie. You secretly laugh when you see someone on the bike trail all duded up like Lance Freaking Armstrong when you know he's only going 4 miles. It's OK. You can laugh. But I'm still going to dress that way and I'll tell you why.)

The Difference Between a Road Bike and a Mountain Bike

I am not a bike expert. As with most things mechanical, I could honestly care less about the gears and sprockets and spokes and carbon fiber this and derailleur that.

I could not tell you a single thing about the latest Trek models or why Bike A is better than Bike B. I also don't believe that someone who rides like I do really notices much of a difference between a bike that weighs 2 lbs. 2 oz. and one that weighs 2 lbs. 6 oz. ... or whatever. Can elite athletes tell when their performance is aided by a smoother gear shift or carbon fiber? Yes, probably. But I'm not that athlete.

I am a bike rider, thought, so by default I have a bit of working knowledge. And, I also have access to two bikes (three, really, but one never leaves my basement) and there are distinct differences that I thought you might be interested in ... should you be shopping for a basic bike.

I'm going to show you my road bike, a Trek Lexa S, and Jim's sport mountain bike, a Trek 3 Series 3500 ... that's been modified a little from factory stock to make it a bit more road-friendly.
---------------------------------------------------------

TIRES: First, notice the difference in tires:



A road bike has skinny tires, inflated to 100-120 psi. They're smooth (no nubby stuff) and they ride "hard" ... not a lot of give when you're rolling over uneven surfaces. My driveway is long, hilly and gravel. I always feel sorry for my tires on it, because they just don't handle it well. They almost skid across the loose rocks and ping a few out sideways every once in a while. They're made for pavement. Period.

Jim's tires are much wider. The original tires on his bike were very nubby. Nubby is good for mountain biking. There's give and grip for uneven terrain. But nubby is not as good for road/bike trail riding. So we've traded for smooth-and-wide tires, which require inflation of 40-80 psi.

Jim's bike will handle an off-road trail and the pavement ... well enough for me to get back and forth to work or for a 20-30 mile ride comfortably. To the contrary, my bike would SUCK on an off-road trail.

If the two bikes started at the top of the same hill together, with a rider of equal weight and proportion, my bike would go down the hill faster. How do I know? I've been the rider on the slower bike. In my unscientific brain, it's because the wider tires mean more contact with the road. More contact with the road equals more "drag" ... and if I'm wrong, don't tell Mr. Raasoch. He'd be as unimpressed with my grasp of high school physics now as he was then.

HANDLEBARS: The second most obvious difference between the two bikes is the handlebars.

Mine: Curled down, like the 10-speed of your youth. They sit lower, forcing your hands a bit more forward and lower. You have the option of holding onto the curly part, too, causing a tighter tuck. You must hold them on the curly part to brake. Your brakes are on the front, meaning your hands are palms-in when you brake. Since road riding doesn't generally require a lot of braking, sharp turns or precision control, this position is OK ... it allows you to stay in that tuck.

 

Jim's: Straight out, hands a bit further apart.They are also a bit higher, allowing your body to sit more upright. Because your hands are wider and your brakes are on the ends, you brake palms down, with downward pressure on the front fork. That means more control and power when you twist and turn on an off-road trail. Your more upright body position can also mean a more comfortable ride.



Now, I'm sure that there is some aerodynamic benefit to the tuck vs. non-tuck position. A wind tunnel would certainly prove that. However, the way I ride, this measurement is completely pointless. If I'm a twentieth or a tenth of a mile per hour slower because I'm riding more upright, who the hell would notice and, more importantly, who the hell would care?

FRONT FORKS: Next up, the front fork.

Mine is rigid, skinny, flat, and not all that exciting to look at. There's no give. Remember when I said my tires rode "hard?" So does the fork.

Jim's has suspension ... like a shock in your car. It's two beefy cylinders, one inside the other, to absorb bumps a bit when you go over them. When you combine this "give" with the wider, lower psi tires, you get a smoother ride on that pesky gravel in my driveway. And over the railroad tracks. Or bridges made out of old railroad ties. However, it also makes the bike heavier.

BRAKES: The other main difference between our bikes is the brakes themselves.

I have rim brakes.

Rim brakes work by simply applying pressure to the rim of the tire. The harder I squeeze my hand, the more brake I get ... it's not terribly complicated. The pads come down and apply pressure to the rim, and, voila! ... slower rotation.

Jim has a disc brake on the front.

A disc brake uses hydraulic assist to apply pressure to the rotar ... the little silver ring in the center of the tire. The benefits of a disc brake are these:

1. In wet conditions, the holes in that ring "dry" the surface out as it's turning, allowing the pressure to work faster/better. Compare that to the squeezing of the rim on my bike ... if the rim is wet, the pads just don't work as well. Or at all.

2. The hydraulic assist allows for a smoother, more controlled/constant pressure ... not dependent on how hard I am squeezing. More controlled/constant/smoother equals faster stopping.

3. In muddy conditions, like an off-road trail, that little silver ring with holes in it is farther away from the gunk on the ground and less likely to get mucked up ... allowing better, more reliable braking. If the rim on my road bike gets muddy, the brake just can't work as well because the pads can't get to the rim, perhaps.

4. A rim brake CAN cause wear on the actual rim, which can affect tires.

So if disc brakes are so awesome, why does my fancier road bike not have them? It doesn't need them. Road bikes don't ride in mud. Road bikes don't need to brake that much ... their job is to go fast in a straight line, not twist and turn through fancy obstacles.

(Kind of the way a good Thoroughbred race horse is different from a reliable, sure-footed trail horse. One is built to go forward fast and has very little skill in anything else, no fancy footwork, no back-up or sideways walking. The other will never win a race, but will take you over streams and rocks and up and down mountains safely.)

Disc brakes also add some weight, though, again, for the kind of riding I do, that doesn't really matter.

Tomorrow, gears, pedals and seats!

Just One Stinking Tank Top

I ran this morning. A quick 4 miles in the basement, because I'm convinced that if I run outside I will get attacked by the neighborhood cougar. 

(And I don't mean Courtney Cox, HRGirl.)

When I was done, I came upstairs and headed to my bathroom for a shower. And I caught a whiff of myself. 

O.M.G. 

Rank doesn't begin to describe it. 

I smelled like a locker room full of teenage boys after a night of hard boiled eggs and beer. With Limburger cologne. 

As I peeled off my running top, I knew what the problem was. 

It wasn't me, so much as it was the 2 years worth of me that has accumulated in this particular running top. 

Peeeeeeeeeeee-yeeeeewwwwwwwww! 

Now, just in case you're thinking, "Doesn't she WASH her workout gear?" Yes, of course I do. I generally hang it to dry before I shower and wash it at night when I get home. But my two favorites are more that two years old and they've been worn and sweated in a LOT. 

They are Energy Zone brand from Shopko. Tanks with built-in shelf bras. And I love them with all my heart. I bought them at half price or about $14.99 ... not because I remember, but because I only buy them at half price. Shopko seems to have a sale every month or so. I used to have a whole rainbow of colors. But over the years, I've had to toss them out, one at a time, as they got stinky. I'm down to my last three (my two favorites and one other one). 

So obviously, your next question is, "Why have you been wearing the same, stinky shirts for two years?"

I've been wearing the same, stinky ones for two years because apparently, they don't make tank tops with built-in shelf bras anymore. Well, at least the folks at Shopko's Energy Zone brand do not. 

I look. I look every time I go there. I even make special trips to look on occasion. I have bought the separate jogging bra and loose-fit tank and I just don't like running in that. I don't want to put two things on, take two things off and wash two things when ONE will do. I like the tight fit of the bra-included tank. So sue me. 

So tonight I took to the web to find something similar. How hard can it be? 

Apparently, It's almost flippin' impossible. 

A search for Energy Zone confirmed they no longer make my favorite kind of shirts. Next step, searches on self-bra tank, sHelf-bra tanks, running tanks with bra, running singlet. All return a few things from Sierra Trading post for brands that I've never heard of, items not in my size or brands built for yoga (read: not enough support for running), things with bad reviews or this: 

This is a cute tank, in my size, with a bra, for $84.99. Yes, I said $84.99!
It had better run FOR me for $100 after shipping! See for yourself here.

Yes, I have checked Athleta and Reebok and Brooks. (Ordered two pair of shoes there, but no tops.) Yes, I have looked at Kohl's ... I own a couple of the FILA brand they carry and don't like them. The seams under the arms are killer chafers. And they're $30+. 

Guess more than one thing about this whole scenario stinks. 

Ominous Beginnings

This was the view on my bike ride into work this morning. There was a bit of a damp chill in the air and misty evidence on my bare legs and shoulders of the dark clouds that were headed east.

It made for a nice start to the day, though.

And I like the metaphor. I chased the dark clouds away and dragged in the sun.

Grocery Day Prep

Let me start by saying,

I HATE GOING TO THE GROCERY STORE.

Especially on a weekend. Especially on a weekend at Woodman's. But go, I must, at least once a week. (For the record, I barely survived today's trip ... between the construction and the approximately 873 other people in the store, I made it out just before I flipped my lid.)

But then I got home and was happy to put all of this together:

• Carrots peeled and cut. 
• Red peppers, deseeded and sliced.
• Seedless cucumbers, one sliced for snacking and one currently in the process of becoming 24-hour refrigerator pickles. 
• Jicama, peeled and matchsticked.
• Corn on the cob, shucked for dinner this evening.
• Iceburg, washed and chillin' for BLTs Monday night.
• Green grapes, rinsed and ready. 
• Bowl full o'cherries, duds removed.
• Seedless watermelon, cut up and getting cold for tonight's snack. 

After yesterday's German Fest fun, it's back to good stuff for the week. And now that it's all ready for me, there are no excuses for not eating well.

If It Feels Good, Do It

The concept is incredibly simple. Easy, almost.

Do what makes you feel good.

The hard part is knowing what feels good. And identifying what feels bad.

I read this the other day and it has stuck in my cranium:

http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2015/07/20/rethinking-exercise-as-a-source-of-immediate-rewards/?smid=tw-share&_r=0

What is says, in a nutshell, is that perhaps it's wise to think of exercise /eating better in a new way. Perhaps we should ot think of it as means to an end ... like weight loss. But as a way to feel good. Really good. Down deep inside good. For a long time.

Or at least that's how I interpreted it.

So I started thinking about what makes me feel good. Really good.

I attack the day better, think clearer, handle stress better when I work out in the morning.

I worry and kick myself less when I eat right.

Do I like sleeping in? Yes. Do I like cake? Yes. Yes, I do. But both of those things really end up making me feel worse, not better. It's just not always the easiest thing to remember when my eyelids are heavy and there's frosting just a few feet from me in the breakroom.

When I stop and think, really think, the choice isn't as hard as it seems.

(This is Day 3 of relatively clean eating for me. The first 3-day streak in a long time.)

Efficiency

I'm still riding my bike to work a couple of times a week.

There is still no hot water.

This is how you take an ice cold shower:

1. Get washcloth, soap, shampoo and conditioner in the ready position.

2. Turn water on about half-speed and immediately jump under it, washcloth in hand. Your goal here is to get your body as wet as possible, as quickly as possible, with the water that's "in the pipes" and therefore NOT ice cold. Ignore your head at this point Your hair isn't the most important thing yet. Making sure you get the sweat and stink off is the key outcome of this step.

3. As soon as you are wet, turn water OFF. Use washcloth to scrub away. As soon as you are soapy ...

4. Turn water back on ... again at half speed. (You don't want to use that "in the pipes" water too fast.) Rinse as you spin quickly under the trickle. Get hair as wet as you can. Keep that washcloth under the water as much as possible.

5. Turn water off. Shampoo.

6. Turn water on to rinse hair ... but bend forward to do so, so that your butt/body is out of the water and only your head is in. The water is getting colder now.

7. Turn water off for lather #2. And curse the amount of "product" you have in your hair that requires two shampoos to get it all out.

8. Turn water back on for final rinse, again head first. Water is really cold now.

9. Turn water off and apply conditioner, the smallest amount you can. The less you use, the less you have to rinse out.

10. Rinse conditioner from hair. By now, the water is FREEZING and it hurts the back of your head as it hits.

11. Turn water off. Use washcloth to get the last bits of soap off.

12. If you need to make one more swipe of the important parts (my grandma called them the 3 Ps), use the wet washcloth you've been holding on to.

13. Done! And there is no steam to mess up the mirror or wreck your hair. If I had to guess, the water ran for less than 3 minutes.

The good news is that my boss has searched out parts to fix the innards of the faucet on Amazon. He says that I will eventually get warm water. And I'm not going to lie.

I can't wait.

I Am Strong

Today, I am loving my body.

I've been pretty down on it lately. It's too big. I'm carrying too much weight. There's too much squish and my clothes are not fitting properly. 

I'm really not fond of the muffing top that appears with my jeans. 

But you know what? 

I still love my body. 

I ran Saturday morning. Lately, every mile has been a real challenge. I've been feeling big and lethargic and heavy. 

Saturday morning I felt at home. The best way I can describe it is comfortable in my own skin. My feet hit the pavement methodically, one in front of the other. My breathing was even and steady. And I covered 5 miles after a 1-hour RIPPED workout with relative ease. 

It made me feel like a million bucks.

This body has been bigger. This body has been smaller. When it was bigger, I didn't trust it. I didn't trust that I was good enough or strong enough.

Today, I know I am good enough. I am strong enough. My body will take me where I want to go, when I want to go there. Through this whole process, and it is an ongoing process, I have learned to trust me.

It hasn't come easy. It's taken practice to believe that I can do "it" ... whatever it is.

But today, at almost 48 years old, I know I can.

I love that.

P.S. Here's one more thing I love. I got a message from our old friend New Runner today. This morning she logged a personal best distance of 6 miles!  That's SIX MILES ... that's the distance between Fort and Jefferson, y'all! What I love most about it is that I know she's feeling the same way about her body tonight. She's proud of what it can do.

Double Double

Saturday marked the second day of my week where I doubled up workouts.

If you recall, I ran and biked on Thursday. It felt pretty OK, so I thought I'd give it a whirl again to start the weekend off right.

I was up early, at RIPPED by 6:30 a.m (OK, 6:35 ... I missed the first half of the warm-up) and good and sweaty by the cool-down an hour later at 7:30. The sun was still hiding behind the clouds and the breeze was just perfect, so I grabbed my running water bottle, flipped my Map My Run app on and hit the streets of my old neighborhood.

It was fun to cruise over those once-familiar sidewalks. I always walked, even at my heaviest, and knew my old 2-mile route would serve me well. I wanted to do 4 miles, however, so I added a few blocks here and there in an attempt to avoid simply doing the loop twice.

Before I knew it, I was back at my car ... with 5.1 miles on my phone.

A nice surprise.

Best of all, it felt easy. My pace was "slow" for me ... 10:40 miles. But it was easy and it felt good. Really good. For the first time in a long time.

A change of scenery is good for everything, I guess.

Bugs, Breathing and Beads

I challenged myself Thursday.

First, I woke up before 5 a.m., ran four miles and then hopped on my bike to ride to work. 

Then, I put in a 10+ hour day.  

Then I got suited up for the ride home. I was actually looking forward to it because it's nice to have the decompression time. It's a good time to think and a good time to sort, prioritize and chill. 

But as soon as I hit the bike path, I knew I wasn't alone. 

They were there. 

Millions of them. 

Swarms of gnats. 

I took a mouthful before I knew it. They stick in the back of your throat in the most disgusting way. 

I got wise quickly ... in through the nose; out through the mouth. In through the nose; out through the mouth. In through the nose; out through the mouth. I kept repeating it over and over, in cadence with my pedaling, and tried to keep my nose/mouth pointed toward the ground to prevent an accidental bug cloud inhale . 

I didn't dare lick my lips for fear that I'd have a whole bunch of the little buggers stuck there by the time I got home. 

I could hear them pinging off my helmet and see them bouncing off my sunglasses. 

I was convinced I could even hear them as they hit the craters of my ears. Gross, right?

The good news is that the ride is only about 8 miles ... so I was home fairly quickly. I took off my helmet and gave myself a good shake to make sure there were no hangers-on. 

And that's when I noticed something that made me smile. 

You see, I had forgotten to take my earrings off when I changed from office wear into bike gear. What I thought was bugs crashing into my ears was actually some fake pearl beads clinking from my dangle earrings. 

It's a good look. Bike helmet and dangly pearl earrings, right?  

Better option than this ... 

I Keep Looking ...

I am looking for something.

I have not yet put my finger on it. Every time I think I have found it, when I swear I've found it, it turns out I haven't yet.

What am I looking for?

I'm looking for the one thing that's going to snap me back to reality.

So far, these are the things it has not been:

My smallest clothes not fitting.
My favorite clothes not fitting.
My biggest small clothes not fitting.
Walking around feeling like an uncomfortable sausage all day because my clothes don't fit.
The re-emergence of huge upper arms.
The rubbing together of the tops of my thighs.
The blob of skin that hangs over my too tight bra.
The re-appearance of a pooch in my mid-section.
The weakness of will that allows me to walk when I should be running or back off when I should be pushing.
The nearly constant bad internal conversation in my head.
The tired, defeated, hopeless feelings that creep in.

I have made myself lots of promises. I have vowed to get back on track a hundred or more times. And, as of yet, I have not actually done it. Which means I'm obviously lying to myself. I can't figure out why, either. 

But yesterday I tried on a pair of size 12 pants and stopped breathing for a minute when they fit. 

The truth is I'm working out pretty much like usual. But I'm essentially eating whatever I want. Proof that this whole deal is ALL. ABOUT. THE. EATING. 

For now, I'm going to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Keep moving forward. And maybe, just maybe, while I'm hunting for divine intervention or some equally illogical other thing, I'll do enough right to get to the place I want to be. 

Conversation During Today's Punishment Workout

I had a fun weekend. Lots of time with friends. A couple of celebrations. And an early morning drive to Dubuque today with my mom to get her a couple of hours at the Diamond Jo Casino. 

Which meant I skipped my normal workout this morning. You see, I have this radio call-in thing for work every Sunday morning. It's at 7:30 a.m. and my choice is to work out before it or after it. Since last night's celebration was a wedding reception, getting up super early this morning wasn't that appealing. Especially since I woke up extra early yesterday to ride my bike into 6:30 a.m. RIPPED. Two weekend mornings at 5 a.m. is just not fun. 

So that means I had to do something this afternoon to make up for the skipped workout. I call it The Punishment Workout. It's got to be something awful enough to prevent me from wanting to skip again anytime soon. So I picked one of the things I hate most: Weeding.

Why do I hate weeding? Mostly because it's pointless. They just grow back. And it's hot. And sweaty. And dirty. And you have to bend over. I really hate bending over. 

This is how it went down:  

"I hate weeding," I said. "Though it's better when we do it together. It goes faster."

"Yeah," Jim says. "These clover-things suck. They're hard to pull because you can't find the source." 

We pull. And pull. And pull. There's no dilly dallying because neither one of us wants to look like the wuss. Thankfully the sun isn't blazing down and the ground is soft. But it's still a pain in the ass ... or more specifically, in the back. 

With the front done and half of the back flower beds complete, this happens:

"This is precisely why we should have had kids of our own, you know," I say. 

"Yeah, then we could tell them to get out here and take care of this shit," he laughs. "'Get out there and weed those flower beds you little bastards. If you want supper, you'd better get out there an bust a sweat,'" 

I'm giggling, knowing he'd probably not call our kids little bastards. To their face. Or maybe I'm giggling because he would. The thing is our kids would probably laugh at him doing so. 

"It's not too late. We can adopt," he suggests. 

At this point, I'll do just about anything to get out of this task. "We don't have to tell the adoption agency WHY we want to get a couple of them, right?" I ask. 

"Nope," he says. 

I'm still considering it. 

Good Genes: A.K.A. Dragging My 73-Year-Old Mother Around Chicago

So, this is an open letter to all you 30-somethings, 40-somethings, 50-somethings who think you are too out of shape, weak, hurt, malformed, injured, just plain unable to do any sort of cardio exercise:

My 73-year-old mother covered more than 7 miles at full speed in downtown Chicago on Monday.

In flip flops.

Any more excuses?
----------------------------------------
Mom and I hopped aboard the Chicago Fun Day tour of the Windy City. A luxury motorcoach dropped us off at Navy Pier and the day was ours to do what we wanted, knowing the bus would pick us up at a predetermined spot later.

Since the day was rainy and thick, we didn't stay long at Navy Pier. The big ferris wheel wasn't running, so there was very little reason to stick around. Instead, we headed to Michigan Avenue.

We started at Water Tower Place and marched all over the 7 floors. Then we headed south, stopping at the Tribune Building and the DuSable Bridge to take in a Chicago Architecture Cruise. After 75 minutes on the water, we continued our southern march to Millennium Park. She didn't know what to make of the Bean.

This is us. Yes, I have a coat tied around my waist. She insisted I take one along
on an 80-degree day. Because she's my mom, I listened. Nevermind that I'm 47.

We then trekked back north, making a few stops and side trips off of Michigan, eventually landing at the corner of Rush and Superior.

Not only did she put on the miles, in many instances, she was setting the pace. She puts her little head down and goes.

She did admit on the way home that her feet were starting to hurt.

Damn flip flops.
-----------------------------------------------
I sure hope I have inherited a few of those genes.

And while she may not know it, she has given me something even better. She's given me an example of what "growing old" should look like. She knows that you can do what you set your mind to. She knows the key to living to her target 100 is to keep moving.

Thanks, Mom.

There she is, Big City Mama. She also has a coat
tied around her waist, of course. She wore it when
we stopped for ice cream. The AC was too cold.
And you'll see I'm not lying about the flip flops. 

P.S. I took the following day off from exercise. It was my rest day. She mowed her 1-acre lawn with a push mower.

... And Then a Cold Shower

I rode my bike to work for the first time of the year today.

It was really lovely. Just a nice way to start the day. Sort of.
--------------------------------------------------
I have been fortunate enough in the past two years to have three jobs, all with showers, making the two-wheeled trek to work possible. In fact, a shower is now on my list of must-have benefits. Health insurance? Check. Vacation days? Check. Shower? Yes, sir!

In fact, it was actually one of the last questions I asked before accepting my current job. (Much as it had been at my last place of employment.) "We have one," said my soon-to-be-new-boss hesitatingly. "It's been here about 20 years and I'm not sure anyone has ever used it," he added.

"And it's in the men's bathroom."

Fast forward to last week. With high hopes that the weather would finally cooperate, I determined that it was time to check the shower.

Confidently, I marched into the men's room after 5 p.m. when most everyone was gone. I twisted the faucet and, voila ...

Water! I was good to go.

Or so I thought.
---------------------------------------------------
This morning, I stuffed my backpack full. I pedaled as fast as I could. I locked my bike up outside and I headed toward the men's room.

It's a little unnerving to disrobe in the men's room, I gotta admit. What if the lock doesn't work? Not the way I want to address my still-not-"old"-friends coworkers. But disrobe I did, stepped into my flip flops (it's still the men's room and everyone knows athlete's foot lives in places like this), and fired up the shower.

Fired up is not exactly accurate. Fire would imply warmth. And this, my friends, was a cold shower. A very cold shower. As in, no hot water. None. Zip. Nada. Bupkis.

I guess I should have tested the temperature when I tested the existence of water.

Needless to say, my shower didn't take long.

Naked by November

I got to spend the weekend with some of the people I love most in the world ... my girlfriends from home. Due to a work trip that brought Arizona to Chicago, Arizona was able to extend her stay by a couple of days and head to my house. Then Cross Plains, Neenah and Fort Atkinson x 2 also joined and it was slumber party at the ranch! 

Poor Jim. LOL

Normally, we rendezvous in the fall. This unexpected gathering was a bonus. 

We did something we'd never done on Saturday morning. I rolled everyone's ass out of bed and we went to RIPPED. 

Wait. Let me say that another way. 

Because my friends love and support me, they rolled their own asses out of bed at 5:45 a.m. on a Saturday, after a very late Friday night, and went to RIPPED with me. 

Isn't that just the coolest thing? 

Like Alice handing out brown bag lunches on The Brady Bunch, I had a protein bar, water bottle, sweatband and gym towel ready near the back door, so they could grab what they needed before heading to the car. In the car, I had all of my extra yoga mats and hand weights preloaded. Off we went into the sunrise. 

We jumped around. Made up a few of our own moves. Groaned a little. Sweat a lot. 

And when it was over, we talked about how we all needed a little incentive. We realize that taking good care of ourselves means making sure we do all we can to eat better, breathe deeper and move more. 

I mean, let's face it. We're closer to 50 than 40 at this point and the reality of that is lost on no one. 

So we made a pact. 

When we get together in November, we're going to do a 5K. We have the time between now and then to get ready. No one is forcing anyone else to run, but I do think that will be the goal of a few. 

A quick check of calendars showed that the weekend of Nov. 13 seemed to work for our fall extravaganza. Another fast check of Google showed that we had three good options that weekend in our neighborhood: 

Echo Turkey Trot, Janesville

This is a 5-mile run/walk with a 1-mile option. The event raises money for Janesville's food pantry. 

Frosty Rock Challenge, Fort Atkinson

This is a 12K (7.4 mile) run through the trails at a county park. There's also a 5K option with money raised to go toward the Jefferson Country Cancer Coalition. 

The Nearly Naked 5K, Whitewater

This 5K is a fundraiser for the Whitewater Community Clothes Closet. The idea is that you layer up in clothes you would like to donate, and at each mile marker, you shed a few articles. By the end of the race, you should be "nearly naked." ("In November? In Wisconsin?" asked Arizona, whose blood has thinned considerably over the years.)

Can  you guess which one is the early favorite? 

Love these ladies with all my heart.
Strong and beautiful, in every way. 

Rest Days are Hard

Remember that 6-mile run I was so happy about last Wednesday? National Running Day, beautiful sunny morning, felt like I could go forever? 

In the "no good deed goes unpunished" vein, I screwed something up in my right knee and it's been hurting more than usual since. To the point of I'm limping every once in a while. 

So I've made the usual adjustments: flat shoes, upped the ibuprofen and fish oil, and substituted bike riding/weights for running. 

For four days. Four long days. My Fitbit is pissed. 

I know pain is your body's way of calling time-out and, most often, should not be ignored. 

I also know that have these periods every once in a while. It just means I have to change it up. Less running ... fewer miles per session or fewer sessions per week. Sometimes no running. And, when it's like this, even walking is too much. 

I can't help but think about all the things I did wrong in the beginning of this journey. I ran every day. I pushed through the little aches and pains. I increased distance (and intensity) more than the recommended/safe 10% per week. 

I was not informed. In fact, I was dumb. The result? I learned my lesson the hard way and I created some of the problems I have now. 

The best defense is information and patience. I keep reminding myself that this is a marathon, not a sprint. My goal is to stay healthy so I can continue to run for a very long time. 

So, here's a little information for you: 

6 Common Mistakes New Runners Make

The Exercises Physical Therapists Know Lead to Injuries

And now I'm going to see if I can find some more patience for me. It's just so not my best skill. 

Catching You Up

Hey peeps. It's been a while. I'm sorry I've been lax in the blog department. To be honest ... I kind of ran out of mojo for a while. I was afraid that anything I wrote would sound like whining or complaining, so I thought it best to just keep quiet.

And, I'm not entirely convinced my funk has left the building. So if this is a bit rough, I apologize.

My goal all along has been to use my story to show that, if by chance you were struggling with some of the same things, you are not alone. Consequently, I thought that if I couldn't be positive and uplifting, this whole thing wouldn't serve a purpose. Goodness knows in the grand scheme of things, my life is pretty freaking blessed. Complaining about having too much to eat sounds conceited, ridiculous, petty ... and horribly American.

I realize, though, that what I'm going through now might also be part of your story or your struggle. So I'm back.

I thought I'd just catch you up first and we'll see where it goes from there.

1. I have a new job. I'm almost 4 months in and some things are finally starting to feel familiar. The transition hasn't been easy for me. I've had to do some re-evaluation of who I am and what I want. I've chosen to place a different emphasis on what "work" is and how it defines me. I've met some really wonderful people, learned a lot and had quite a bit of fun.

2. I have gained weight. My guess is 20-25 lbs from my new normal low, but I'm too afraid to step on the scale to find out. Most of my summer clothes from 2 years ago do not fit. Some from last year do. I feel like a sausage ... too much goo stuffed in a too small package. The bras are the worst. They're just plain uncomfortable.

3. My workouts have been sporadic. I'm still running about 3x/week. Sometimes 4x. I'm doing between 4-6 miles an outing. I'm not lifting like I was. I'm also not biking like I did last summer. Because my weight it up, I'm putting extra stress on my joints. It seems everything hurts these days ... my hips, my shoulder, my back, my knees. Oh, my knees. However, NOT working out doesn't make any of it feel better. In fact, it usually makes things worse. Continuing to move is what feels best.

4. My eating spun wildly out of control for a while. I seriously think I might have a problem. It's not like I was eating whole packages of Oreos at one sitting or gorging on buckets of fried foods or anything. But I just couldn't stop eating. A handful of pretzels her. Ten minutes later? A little hunk of cheese. 20 minutes later? A piece of Dove Dark. Oh, good. Time for lunch. It was more like constant chewing. I've been better this week. Getting my head back in the game. I've been making better choices and have put a few of the old "limitations" (thought I hate that word) back in place.

5. My struggle is finding balance. I can't out-exercise bad eating. I can't/don't want to eat clean every minute of every day. I can't lie and say this is good enough when I know it's not. I can't say I don't care because I do. I also have to get out of my own head and understand that my emotions/internal dialogue affect my actions. I have to stop the negative thinking, the doubt and the fear.

No surprise, I'm a work in progress. Like the rest of the world.

Shortest. Bike Ride. Ever.

Got a text from my bike ridin' cousin Mary a couple of days ago with a photo attached. The pic was of her Trek 100 bib and the message said, "Ready to ride?"

Shit.

I forgot to sign up for the Trek 100 ride.

A quick glance at the website proved that A) I missed the Early Bird Discount by a mile. B) I also missed online registration altogether.

All that notwithstanding, Jim and I are going to do the 19-mile route ... his first-ever ride. As such, we made an attempt at a training run tonight.

We loaded up our bikes on my new Saris bike rack, drove to the bike trail and hit the ground rolling.

A mile in, I had a back tire going flat.

Back to the car we went.

"Think you can do that 9 more times?" I asked Jim as we were loading bikes back onto the rack.

"Yup."

So, I guess we're ready ... after we have the guys at Michael's Cycles take a look at my tire to see if it's the tire or just a tube that needs to be replaced.

Hahahahaha!

Fitbit is Funny!

I woke up yesterday with a sore throat, a full head and a sort of ornery attitude. Jim's had a couple of nasty sinus infections this spring and I was not about to put up with that crap.

So by last night, after a day filled with moving boxes for our office move, I was kind of all in by about 8:30 p.m. I set my mind, and my alarm, to get up in time to ride my bike to RIPPED this morning at 6:30 a.m.

I'm a big believer in the "kill it or cure it" approach to anything resembling a cold.

Since I hadn't been on my bike since last fall, the trip into town was a bit of a wake-up call for my quads. And it took a bit longer than I planned, but I made it, ran through RIPPED and headed home.

Curious to see how Fitbit would read the biking part of the trip, I logged in once I got there.

This is what I found:

The ride in, between 5:50-ish and 6:35-ish didn't look too strenuous. The hour of actual class usually registers shy of 4000 steps and less than 2 miles. I left class about 7:45 and then stopped to chat with some friends in our old neighborhood. I was home by 8:45 or so. But look, the ride home was considerably more active than the ride in.

Except for the part where I apparently fell asleep:

I Am Not a Gardener

Today was the annual Planting of the Flowers Day.

It's not my favorite day of the year. In fact, I kind of hate it.

I like buying the plants. I think it's great fun to mix and match the colors, textures, heights and shapes. I'm big on purples and greens. Actually, I ONLY like purples and greens, but mix in a few other things to keep it interesting.

It's the planting I don't like. It's dirty and hot and sweaty.

And it's inevitable that once I get started, I find plenty of weeds to pull, which leads to a dozen or so trips back and forth to the fence line where I toss the pullings. Then there's 40-lb. bags of potting soil to tote from the front porch to the back deck and around again. And then there's the 5-gallon buckets of water that get hauled, hoisted and poured. And the ceramic pots filled with dirt that I decide should be moved around and more artfully arranged.

Before I know it, I have a decent workout in and need yet another shower.

Maybe I should learn to like gardening.

The truth lies somewhere between this ... 

And this. 

Searching for Balance

I can't stand on one foot for very long.

At the end of RIPPED classes, during the cool-down, Peggy almost always runs us through a series of stretches that require me to stand on one foot to stretch quads, hips, glutes. I almost always have to "touch down" with the other foot to keep from falling over.

It makes me think my balance just isn't that good. Or my muscles are somehow sort of weak.

And I think it's an enormous metaphor for what's going on in my head right now.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I took last week off from exercise. Almost completely and totally off. If you're friends with me via Fitbit, you can see that my step total sort of fell off the radar.

The burnout was real. Part of it was the training for the half marathon. But not all of it.

Part of it was Spring. As in spring wardrobe. As in, my clothes from last year were not all fitting so smurfy.

You know how that thinking sprials ... I've talked about it a million times before. I feel bad, so I get down on myself. I get down on myself and start making bad choices. A few bad choices lead to a few more bad choices and pretty soon you're stuck in a dark pit and it's hard to get out.

The choices I was making? Eating pretty much whatever I wanted to and trying to out-exercise it.

This, dear readers, does not work. It cannot work. It has never worked.

So I took a reset.

No running. Only one morning of RIPPED. No weights. No biking.

In addition, no feeling guilty about eating "bad." No beating myself up for gaining weight. No crappy self talk about getting fat or having no self control. No poor me. No whining.

I wanted to give myself some grace ... to prove that the world will not end if I just chilled out for a bit to get my head back on straight.

Guess what? The world didn't end.

I didn't exactly eat well, but I ate better. I made a conscious effort to not pummel myself, and that's easier said than done for me. I tried on some clothes that I was convinced wouldn't fit and the truth was they weren't as terrible as I'd feared. (Though, don't get me wrong ... there are plenty of others that don't button.)

I thought about waiting for the urge to come to me.

It did. I woke up Saturday morning itching to do my traditional 4 miles. So with a little fear, I hit the treadmill ... and everything was fine.

I waited again for the urge to eat better to arrive. It didn't happen on Mother's Day ... I was responsible for brunch, served at my house, and things got a little out of delicious control.

But, last night, the urge to eat better hit.

And today, I did.

Burpees and Pushups Suck

I was back at RIPPED this morning. My attendance has been a little spotty these past few weeks as I was trying to find time to get my running miles in and sometimes I had to skipped class to do it.

The good news about skipping is that I got to sleep in a few extra days. The bad news is that essentially all of the sections changed while I was gone and I'm sort of lost with the new choreography.

Now, I don't mind being lost for a few classes. I eventually catch up and catch on. And, truth be told, it makes me smile, while I'm out there bouncing around erratically, to imagine myself as a fly on the wall watching how completely dorky I look as I try to figure it out. It must be hilarious.

But here's the kicker: the new sections include a shit-ton of burpees and pushups.

Ugh.

There's nothing cute about 47-year-old me, still stiff from Saturday, and 15 pounds heavier than I'm used to being, trying to pop up and down like a pogo stick. The Burpees are particularly cruel because my parts just don't bend like they need to, fast enough, for me to look remotely coordinated or fluid.

And don't even get me started on the pushups. Man, you don't do them for month or two and it's all over. It's like you're starting out with wimpy Olive Oyl arms.

The only way to make it better is to keep doing it, I guess.

So that's what I'll do.

My Favorite Wisconsin Marathon Moments

1. The anticipation in the car on the drive to the start line in the dark. It's the moment anything is possible.
   
2. The Mayfly orgy on the picnic table before the race started. (Thankfully, the breeze picked up and the swarming Mayflies were history by the time the race officially started.)
   
   
   
3. The conversation overheard at the start line about Mittens. Even in May in Wisconsin you have to think about mittens? No. The Mitten Challenge is a two races in two states in two days event shared by the Wisconsin Marathon and the Kalamazoo MI Marathon. You could run the half (called Half & Half Challenge) or the full (the Mittens Challenge) and get a cool medal for doing it. More power to 'em, but I'm pretty sure that's not me.
   
4. The thinking how nice it would be to live on the race course itself. At one point, a guy and girl behind me were discussing pulling over at his house so he could swap out his running tights for shorts and so she could use the bathroom.
   
5. The guy with the green trombone that first appeared between Miles 1 and 2, then again between Miles 3 and 4 ... and finally on Mile 10-ish. He was playing the "Go Big Red" jingle from Badger games in the beginning and some slow, sad, New Orleans-sounding thing at the end. I often wonder what possesses people to participate in an event like that.
   
6. Which brings me to my two favorite spectators. The first I'll call FrankenShe. She was a very tall (as in sideshow tall) woman and had gray hair, glasses, and that "giantess" look about her. She must have been walking on the beach because she was sporting two walking poles. I passed by her just after Mile 5. She was cheering from the sidelines ... her hands raised up in the air, fists pumping. "You are all amazing! I am so proud of each and every one of you! You did the work! You trained so hard! You are doing it! Good job! You look strong!" She was yelling at the top of her voice, and she kept on yelling as everyone passed.
   
7. The second, Coach Clapper. He was mid to late 50s, I'd guess. Fit, tidy, shorts and a windbreaker.  His voice was HUGE and he was stationed on the downtown stretch, around Mile 3. I heard him before I saw him, pacing the "sidelines" like a coach at the Final Four, clapping and shouting. "Looking good. Looking strong. Good job! That's it!" He was still standing in that spot ... which become Mile 11 on the out-and-back route ... when I had just wrapped up a miserably slow Mile 10. The woman in front of me was walking. I was, too. "NO ONE WALKS IN FRONT OF ME!" he said. "NO ONE! You've got this. You can do this! You've got something left in the tank, I can see it!" And she started running. So did I. Miserable or not, I wanted to please him because he genuinely seemed to care. He showed up again at the 26-mile mark ... or .2 from the finish line for me. There he was, clapping and cheering, like the best high school coach you ever had. "Only .2 to go, kick it in! You got this! Finish strong! Good job! Good job!" By now we were old friends, or so it seemed, and I kind of wanted to hug him because I needed to hear those words at that moment. I couldn't tell if he had someone in the race, if he was part of the volunteer race crew or just a guy who liked cheering people on.
   
8. The signs made by spectators, designed to inspire runners. Or make them giggle:
   "Run faster ... I just farted!"
   "Pain is temporary. Internet results are forever."
   
9. The Polkaholics. Yes, that's right a rock/polka band. They were pretty amazing. I imagine it's weird to play a gig at 7 a.m. on a Saturday. They were wearing purple sequined vests ... I mean, what else would you expect?
   
10. The guy who said, "Lisa Sympson! Looking good!" I was just approaching Mile 6 and he had already hit the turn around, so he was a good 3 or 4 miles ahead of me. I turned to look to see who it was, responded with a "HEY!" and a smile. But I have no earthly idea who it was. I searched the race results for someone from Janesville or Beloit or Fort Atkinson and found no one I knew. It's a mystery.
    
11. The soft-spoken runner in the yellow and white striped running skirt who came up behind me at Mile 10 and barely whispered, "You're doing great. Keep going." She caught me off guard. "I'm pissed at myself," I blurted out before I could edit ... as if she wanted to hear my internal dialogue. "We're almost there," she said. "Only a 5K to go. You can do it." And off she went. It was nice of her. And it reminded me that that's the person on the course I want to be.
    
12. The sun coming up over the lake and this patient, kind, brave, strong, handsome man there with me to watch it. (His favorite part of the day was not this one. It was watching a guy take off his shoe at the finish line to reveal a completely bloody soaked sock. Which, honestly, makes me love him even more. 

Half ... Fast! Or Half-Assed?

I considered so many titles for this post. Among the contenders:

A Bad Day to Have a Bad Day
A Beautiful Day for a Jog
Here's My List of Excuses Justifications
The Training 101 Lesson I Forgot
Get Over Yourself
13.1 is 13.1, No Matter How You Look At It

I waited until today to write this, hoping something poetic would come over me and I could find a way to put into words what I was feeling about my run yesterday.

The day had a beautiful and promising start. They all do, right? 

Since divine intervention has not come, I'm just going to give you a quick rundown of the facts first:

1. The weather was picture perfect. Sunny enough. Cool enough. Breezy enough but not too much.
2. The course was really wonderful ... we ran along the lake for much of the time. And when we weren't in the park alongside the lake, we were in some truly beautiful neighborhoods of Kenosha with grand, old-money homes or on the charming streets of the historic downtown. It was also very flat with just a couple of low rolls. 
3. The race was really well-organized for such a big event ... 4000 runners. Parking was a little complicated, but that's to be expected with such a big group. 
4. I started strong ... maybe too fast. The first 5 miles flew by. Note to self: Buy a running watch.
5. My most important muscle started giving me trouble at Mile 6. My brain, that is. My hips started hurting around Mile 10. 
6. I stopped to pee, which I've never done in a race before. Not once. Not twice. Not three times. No, I had to pee FOUR times on the course. Or thought I did. 
7. I walked all of Mile 11. I walked because I had to pee so badly that I was afraid to run. And when I got to the port-a-potty at Mile 12 (which was out of hand sanitizer by the way), essentially nothing happened. I couldn't go. The only water I was making, so to speak, were a few frustrated tears. 
8. I had another thee-quarters of a mile of walking throughout miles 6-11, too. 
9. I was beyond pissed off at myself for apparently not training right. 
10. I finished 27 seconds ahead of my "if you go over this time, you have failed miserably" time at 2:29:33. That's 20 minutes behind my first half and a whopping 6 minutes ahead of my half walk/half run effort in 2013. 

I'm struggling with how to process this. The day didn't go like I wanted it to and I finished about 15 full minutes behind where I thought I would. I'm mad at myself for letting my head get in my way. I am disappointed that I put all that time in to train, but didn't do it right. So was it a waste of time altogether?

It sucks to be disappointed in yourself.

On the other hand, I had a bad day. Bad days happen. I still finished 13.1 miles and that's nothing to sneeze at. The real lesson in this is what I do from this point. Where do I go from here? I can feel sorry for myself or I can chalk it up as experience and move on. I know now how important training my brain is. I also know now that I can't, apparently, train only on a treadmill for a big event.

Maybe that's the lesson I'm supposed to take from this. The lesson of how to NOT let my finish time or the walking get to me. The lesson of how to find my mental toughness again and keep going.

Because the funny thing is that never once on the course did I feel like I wouldn't finish. Never once did I doubt crossing that line. In fact, at the turnaround point for the Half, where the Full marathoners kept going straight, I had the thought that I knew I could walk another 13 if I really wanted to.

I'm stiff today. (More proof that I didn't train right.) But I'm feeling better about it all. Part of me is eyeing up future races because I want to prove to myself that this was a fluke.

So, this story might not be over yet.

I think this might be me. Or at least it's the me I want to be.
Standing tall. Strong. Ready to take on whatever the day brings.
(The park where the race started/finished was full of interesting art.)