81 Days to 13.1

Today's Miles: 900 miles sitting on my bum; The Ab300; 20 min tempo run; 200 weighted arm exercises; 100 weighted walking lunges; 100 weighted squats

HOLY CRAP I'm tired!!!

My arms are so tired I can barely type (obviously not).

My lunge-er is lunged out.

And I think I broke my squatter.

However, my abs are feeling pretty good!! Maybe that means I should up The 300?

Maybe not.

Did I mention in that run down above that I had to wake up at 3:30a.m. to catch a flight, and that it is now 1:30 a.m. EST, and I'm still AWAKE!!! What's up with that?

I'll tell you what's up with that - way too much exercising late in the evening. It keeps me awake, despite my overwhelming desire to be sleeping. (And an hour long nap this afternoon.)

So why exactly did I combine a tempo run day with an insano-strength training session?

Because my dears, yesterday was Day 1 of a half-marathon training session, and yesterday I was supposed to start out with strength training. However, I had way too much work yesterday (and recovering from the weekend). So strength training did not happen. Today is Day 2 - and it calls for a tempo run.

In an attempt to keep with my training plan - I combined. You know...be efficient.

I will pay for this tomorrow.

SO - I know you're just dying to know why I needed to recover from the weekend!!

Did Mark and I throw a wild party? Get drunk? Stay up until 10 p.m. like a couple of wild kids???

No. 

I started my training program to become one of those sweepers in Curling. (You know, that Olympic sport where they slide a stone across the ice and a sweeper goes all Swifter crazy on the ice ahead of the stone....In other words, another backyard, beer induced game that made it to the Olympics like badminton.)

So here's your Life Lessons for the week:
(Lessons 1-5 had to do with porta-potties on a construction site. I only mentioned 3 in the blog but some friends piped in with 2 additional lessons.)

Lesson 6
If you dig a hole in East TN during the driest part of the year during a year when 80% of the country is in a drought, and the intent of that hole is to be a pond - it will never rain. However, if that hole was dug with the intent of building a house on top of it.....it WILL rain.

AndRainAndRainAndRainAndRainAndRainSomeMore.

Farmers.....You're Welcome!

I lost count at how many times the guys literally dug mud out of the footers with shovels. Or how many times they were pumped out. Or how many times rebar was installed/uninstalled/reinstalled. But the footers finally got poured.

Then it rained. AndRainedAndRainedAndRainedAndRainedAgain.

It rained 1 1/2 inches at our house on Friday evening and NOTHING at my Dad's house....1/2 mile away!!!

But Who cares? The footers are poured!! Right? 

Well, muddy footers means block masons can't lay block on them. So - we got to clean them off with a shovel, a pressure washer and brooms.

Ever.Try.To.Sweep.Water?



This was the end result of Saturday's efforts:

Looks like I just ran a Mud Run. Guess my excuse of not wanting to ruin a pair of running shoes for a Mud Run is now gone. Guess I'll have to sign up for one.

Doesn't think that looks to bad?

Huh! What do you think of those freaky whitey's?

But in the end, I guess it was worth it (?). It was necessary. Because the mason's showed up on Monday and now it's starting to look like something!!

And then it rained.AndRainedAgain.

I really hope the rest of the week is dry!

Gotta run.....and get some sleep.

Life Lessons

Today's Miles: none

I'm a bit tired tonight. I'm a bit overwhelmed tonight. I'm a bit overworked and over-worried tonight.

I think I'm going to change the name of this blog to "How to keep your marriage intact & growing, work full time as a traveling saleswoman, train for a half-marathon, act as your own contractor and build a house, and not go completely insane."

But that seems a bit much. Don't ya think?

I actually don't start training for another 2 weeks...which by the way Megan Reid Saylors....did you catch that? We're approximately 13 weeks from our half. Get your shoes on chick!

I'm thinking that the training for the half is actually how I'm going to keep my sanity intact....or at least in the same sand box. But I'm not ready for a hard-core schedule yet. Not with my 7 week on-the-road-13-hr-day stretch. I'm in week 5. 2 more to go. Then a week home....while my dear husband goes away for a few days for work. Uh...how did that happen? I'm home - and he's gone?

So, did you catch the 'build a house' statement earlier?
Didyadidyadidyadidya?

I feel like we've been 'building a house' for 3 years now. But we've not. We've only be 'planning to build a house' for several years.

We've graduated to the actual 'building' of the house.

The ground breaking began last week while I was in Wisconsin. I was so excited, so disappointed and so scared all at the same moment when Mark sent me that picture.

Excited because FINALLY!!! We're getting started!!

Disappointed because I wasn't there. Not sure what I would have done but sit around and watch my Dad move dirt and giggle like a school girl all day? But still. I wished I was there. I feel like I missed out on something.

Scared because Holy Shit! It's really happening. We've got a lot of things to do, to decide, to buy, to think about, to plan, to commit to. What if we make the wrong decision and are disappointed? What if it costs more than what we planned? WhatifWhatifWhatifWhatif.

I could bore you with every single detail of building this house....but I'll save that for my bestestestest of friends. However from time to time, I will try to impart some wisdom....just in case you are crazy enough to want to build a house yourself.

So - here we go....Lesson #1.

Did you know that according to code, you are supposed to have a porta-potty on site throughout the construction project? That means from Day 1. The very first day. Not Day 2 or 3 or 4 or 5. But Day 1.

Want to know why that's so important??

Because Murphy's Law dictates that someone will have to take a dump ON DAY 1. And without a porta-potty, they must utilize whatever Mother Nature provides...in our case, the woods.

And you know why that's such a big deal?

Remember when I told you about my dog that eats poop?

Oh no, don't worry. Even SHE has standards on what she devours.

However, the one that likes to roll in poop?  Well, he has no standards.

So here's Lesson #2.

It will take 2 baths in scented dog shampoo, 1 bath in Pantene, a wipe down with "dog wipes" (pre-moistened wipes used for quick baths), a wipe down with clorox wipes, a wipe down with straight vinegar, and a dip in the creek and clogged sinuses to take human poop smell off a dog.

Lesson #3.

Always have those things above and rubber gloves in stock - just in case the porta-potty delivery is delayed.



Gotta run.....

Oh how the mighty fall....

Today's Miles: 4 miles along a beautiful bike path at sunrise on Lake Michigan....Perfection!

So by the title are you wondering if I face-planted this morning???

No. I did not.

Sorry to disappoint you.

I actually have nothing funny to report this week.

My post has more to do with not accepting the punishment given....The Penn State scandal and the list of sanctions from the NCAA.

I've been a bit up in arms over this entire controversy from the beginning. Since I grew up in the UT big football era....went to school there....went to games there....and then finally worked there...I've come full circle in my understanding of a big-football school.

When you attend a big-football school, you quickly realize that football is king. Literally. Recruiting top level athletes. Giving them scholarships (and not really caring if they can either read or write); giving them tutors (of course to keep their studies up since they have such a grueling schedule that actually attending all of their classes is asking too much); treating them like Gods (and neglecting to teach them how to have a job or career outside of football b/c not all of them are going to make it in the NFL).

Football is a business. Football is a money maker. Football is the center of everything.

Oh, but wait.....aren't we talking about football, at a University? At a place of EDUCATION and LEARNING? Isn't that what we should be focusing on?

Should be, but rarely is. In essence, football turns Universities into greed-machines. Protect the money maker. Protect it at all cost.

And that's precisely what Saint JoePa and the administration at Penn State tried to do. Protect it from the scandal of Jerry Sandusky.

If anyone at anytime was actually worried about his victims - something would have been done. The fine tradition of "Success with Honor" was nothing more than words on a tablet. The first moment that any one of them turned their head - is when they shamed Penn State. They are the ones that brought this punishment to Penn State.

How does a 'regulatory body' impose sanctions on an institution that are severe enough to fit the crime - this was not some simple NCAA recruiting violations. This was a cover-up of the RAPE of CHILDREN. But not so harsh as to punish the 'by-standers' or the students and the town of State College?

I've heard some people say the punishment is too harsh.

Too harsh???

Let me repeat something I stated above....this was the COVER-UP of the RAPE of CHILDREN.

Closing down the entire University may have been too harsh. But this?

We're talking about a University whose responsibility is to TEACH students how to be ADULTS and have careers. Yet, instead, the ADULTS in charge (and yes....JoePa may not have had 'President' after the comma, but rest assured, he was in charge) were nothing more than asshat cowards.

As for the fine, $60million is the equivalent to one season's revenues. Big freaking deal. That's why NCAA went further and brought the hammer down.

For those that are upset about wiping out Saint JoePa's wins.....shut it. What about the players??? Oh, wait a minute..PLAYERS. They PLAYED a sport. The only ones that are actually making a living off of what they did are now in the professional world - and I don't see the NFL firing players because their college stats are no longer "official." For those that PLAYED and like to relive their glory days on the weekends while drinking beer with their buddies - don't worry, you'll still remember that you carried the ball across the goal line more than the other team.

The NCAA had to bring down the sledge hammer. Because I guarantee you, this very same scandal could have happened at any other top-football school in the country. It is a culture on campus that football goes above all else. And that is wrong. It is wrong to put the program ahead of victims and it is wrong to put the program ahead of academics. It's about time someone made that clear. I'm just sorry it took this incredibly disgusting act to make that happen. It's not just a fine against Penn State. It's a wake-up call to the rest of the institutes out there to get their houses in order.

Some examples of Assholes that have the ability to speak to Yahoo reporters:

"I'm furious," Olson said, standing underneath rows of pennants from other Big Ten schools. "JoePa didn't deserve this. So many things are getting wiped away."

JoePa deserves so much more. I'm sorry the man is dead. But he got off easy. He should have to live through the shame of this scandal as the victims of Sandusky have had to live with their shame all of these years.

There were audible gasps in "The HUB" when the announcement came down, louder with each punishment. Dozens of students cupped their mouths with their hands, shook their heads and in some cases teared up.

"I don't know how you do that," Olson said of the sanctions. "It's ridiculous. It's not a respectable tone. It's a cheap shot."

Cheap shot?? CHEAP SHOT!!??? I'm sorry. Exactly how do you, in a respectable tone, tell an institution that you were a disgusting pig not only responsible for not reporting a sexual assault on a minor, you are responsible for the continuation of his crimes by turning the other cheek. That no moral person, no sane person, no person that has half a damn brain or heart would have reacted that way. NO one should put a program, an institute, a business, a goose that lays a golden egg before the welfare of children. Who does that???

It's almost August – almost time for a new school year, the first without Joe Paterno on campus since 1950. "I still look at him as the same guy," Olson said. "I want to go into coaching because of him. He's a mentor and a person I look up to. There's no chance of that changing."

I'm just glad you weren't part of Jerry's kids. Because JoePa would not have protected you.

Nicole Lord, a senior, questioned why Penn State's student body, and especially its athletes, should be punished "for the wrongs of three men and a monster."

We call Jerry Sandusky a monster because he committed the acts - why not call those that allowed him to commit those acts monsters as well? How is that any different than a mother knowing her boyfriend is raping her daughter....and staying in that dysfunctional relationship?

And I'm sorry if current players feel they are being punished...because in essence they are. But again...there's that word....PLAYERS. You cannot separate the institution from the athletes. You can't punish the institute harsh enough without having collateral damage. Which is why the NCAA will let them leave without penalty. It was not the fault of the student athletes. They unfortunately put their trust in people that preached Success with Honor, but had none.

Penn State will rise above this if they choose too. I believe that the acceptance of this punishment without appeal is the first step. And this is the only voice of reason I've heard in the news so far on this matter:

"Our heritage, our legacy has been tainted and damaged," said Troy Cromwell, a wide receiver on the 1986 team that won the second of Paterno's two national championships. Cromwell said he felt bad for current and incoming players, "but at the end of the day, there were still those kids, those poor kids, and those victims, and we have to think about them first in everything that we do."

If only they had done that from the beginning, so many boys could have been spared.

Gotta run...

A Whol-lot-o Gelato

Today's Miles: 4 miles (3 at tempo pace) and 100 of 300 ab exercises (wholly shit those are hard).

So if you've read the above statement and have seen my FB posts over the last couple of days, you know I'm trying out this "300 ab exercises" that are supposedly ripped off of p90x.

HOOOOLLLLYYYY MMMOOOOLLLLYYYY!!!

I didn't think I had ab muscles in these places that are still sore from 2 days ago. I only got 100 in this morning because I hadn't written down all of the exercises and was trying to follow it on my computer. And it crashed. Oh Thank God.

But it's up and running again obviously, which means I'll have to complete the other 200 before night ends. Please Pray For Me.


So why all of this exercising you wonder? Well, the running part.....Duh. You're reading a 'running' blog.

The abs? Just to get more well roundedly fit (Is that a word?).

AND......in case you didn't know....July is National Ice Cream Month. And TODAY is National Ice Cream Day!!

You should celebrate......A.LOT.


I have been.


I started at 9:30 this morning. 


A few weeks back my church had an ice cream social on a very hot day, and since I didn't have an ice cream maker at the time, I had to remedy that situation so that I could make some ice cream. So I bought an ice cream maker at JacquePennea that has a drum you freeze, rather than deal with all of the ice and salt.

Uh.Oh. Big.Mistake. Make it even easier to make the one dessert I can't get enough of! Just leave the drum in the freezer and you're ready to make ice cream any time!!! Day or night!!! Or in the middle of the night!!!

I've been more inclined to make gelato's rather than ice cream. The difference: using whole milk, eggs and less sugar versus heavy cream, half&half and lots of sugar. Gelato freezes very creamy, not so much icy like most homemade ice creams.

So far I've made

• Banana Gelato = if you're a banana fan, it's like a banana bread in ice cream form....Heaven!
• Dark Chocolate Azteca Gelato = sweet and spicy....It.Will.Change.Your.Life.Forever. I've made this a couple of times.
• Salted Caramel Cashew Gelato = inspired by a customer's ice cream parlor's famous flavor...now it's Mark's all time favorite!!

Some recipes if you're willing to put the time in and make some gelato...

Do. It. 

Dark Chocolate Azteca Gelato
 (stolen & adapted from some Italian person's recipe - Giulianohazan.com)

• 4 egg yolks
• 2/3 C (I substituted 2/3 C with 5Tbs+1tsp of Splenda Blend)
• 2 Tbs sugar (separate)
• 2 C whole milk
• 1 1/2 oz of semi sweet chocolate
• 2 oz of dark chocolate
• 1 1/2 oz of high quality unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• Pinch or two or three of cayenne pepper

1. Melt the chocolate in a double boiler. In separate pan, heat the milk until it just begins to boil
2. Use an electric mixer to whip the egg yolks and 2/3 C of sugar (or substitute) until they form creamy pale yellow ribbons.
3. Add the hot milk SLOWLY to the whipped eggs and sugar while mixing with the electric mixer.
4. Add the melted chocolate and mix it in well. Add the cocoa and mix again.
5. Add the cinnamon and cayenne. Mix well. (You may want to add a small amount at a time and taste before adding more! I like 3 pinches of cayenne!!)
6. Put the remaining 2Tbs of sugar and 2tsp of water in a small pan over High heat.
7. Transfer the chocolate mix to a saucepan and place it over low heat and stir constantly with a whisk.
8. When the sugar in the pan has turned to a dark caramel, add the caramel to the chocolate mix and mix it in thoroughly with the whisk until it dissolves. Keep on low heat and keep stirring for about 8 minutes.
9. Cool mix completely (about an hour in the refrigerator).
10. Follow ice cream maker instructions to make fabulous gelato!!

Salted Caramel Cashew Gelato
(stolen & adapted from Instructables.com)

• 1/2 C sugar (do not substitute - you need real sugar for this one!)
•  1 Tbs water
• 2 C whole milk
• 4 egg yolks
• 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
• 1/4 tsp kosher or ground sea salt
• 1/3 C crushed cashews (or more if you like it nuttier)

1.  Combine 1/2 C sugar and 1 Tbs water in a medium non-stick saucepan. Swirl sugar & water until just combined. Turn the heat on High, and allow to bubble and turn golden brown. If it goes to dark brown, you over cooked it. 
2. When the caramel turns golden, add 2 C milk and whisk. At first the caramel hardens, but will melt into the milk as it heats. Constant whisking keeps the caramel from burning.
3. Add the vanilla extract & salt. Whisk again until combined. Remove from heat.
4. Separate the egg yolks and beat until light yellow.
5. Add the hot caramel  mix to the eggs very SLOWLY while whisking swiftly.
6. Return the mix to the sauce pan and turn heat to low. (I have to turn to medium on my stove.)
7. Place a candy thermometer into the saucepan. The thermometer will read slightly higher than the actual temperature. Do not allow the mix to go above 179 F.
8. Stir CONSTANTLY, until thick. About 12 minutes. When you can draw a line across the back of the spatula, it's done.
9. Cool mix completely in the refrigerator.About 2 hours.
10. Follow ice cream maker instructions to make gelato. Add cashews during the last 3-5 minutes of ice cream making!

 Enjoy!!!! And make sure you eat a ton of Ice Cream today!! And all month!!!



Gotta run....and do some crunches.

Another day, another year older!

Today's Miles: Zero!!

Saturday, June 30 was my birthday!!

How old?...you ask.

You should never ask a lady how old she is!! 

When people ask me how old I am, I have to think and do some math. It's not one of those things I just know or think about or have on hand....Let's see....I was born in 197...

That's all you get. If you don't know how old I am already - it's not important. It's just a number. You are as old as you feel....

OH.... NO....

I'm a lot older than I thought!!

For my birthday -

• I hobbled around on crutches because I'm too uncoordinated to go out jogging about like some young fool.
• I went to a church cookout instead of being selfish and doing what I wanted to do.
• I actually wanted rain for my birthday because holy crap we are so dry here.

What I got for my birthday - 

• My first grey hair - WTF!? I color my hair??!!
• Record breaking temperatures. 105F in Knoxville on Saturday. The heat index was reportedly set to...I don't know.....

Hell.

• And I have to mention that in honor of my birthday - my best friend got stung on her butt twice by a bumble bee. And now she has a third ass. That was the Best. Birthday. Present. Ever!

All jokes aside. It was a great day because I got to spend it with the one that matters most to me. He is the best present I've ever received. (And yes Babe, I'm talking about you....not the dog.)

UPDATE on my least favorite foot: It was HUGE Friday night after walking through 4 airports; being delayed & not getting home until 10pm. I broke out the crutches on Saturday morning to minimize the pressure on it. And I couldn't just "rest" and sit around all day (even if it was my birthday). I hobbled some more with them today. I've been icing a few times a day. Things are looking better. I'll see how it feels on Monday morning without the crutches and decide if I get to make a visit to my favorite foot Doctor.

As for now - no worries. If I miss out on this 10K coming up, I will be disappointed. But shit happens. As uncoordinated as I am, and as many times as I stumble and run into stuff just walking around, I'm honestly surprised it took this long for my first fall while running. It's my first. Surely won't be my last. Surely won't be my worst either.

Holy Moly!! I JUST HEARD THUNDER!!!  YAY!!!!!!

Gotta run...

Running Towards Death

Today's Miles: 0.42 miles plus some gymnastics.

What I like about being on the edge of the Central Time Zone, is that daybreak happens around 4:30 a.m. This means I can go out in any town and run before my work day starts. And it's not dark. And scary.

This morning, I decided to get a 30-45 minute tempo run under my legs.

So, what happened.

This did.....

"What?" you ask.
"An intersection?"
"A beautifully landscaped crosswalk? With benches for the weary shoppers?"

This, my friends, is the most dangerous intersection in Manitowoc, Wisconsin. Don't let the peace and tranquility of this place fool you! It's more dangerous than a packed New York City subway platform!

"What's so dangerous about it?" you ask again, because you obviously are not observant enough!

Here, try this:

Is that better? Do you get it now!?


I was jogging along (during my warm-up), getting ready to cross the street to a long straight away with level sidewalks that lead to the greenway along the lake. I thought that looking at the intersection (where the cars were) to avoid getting run over by said car was more important than looking down to see where I'm stepping. I mean it's huge, and there's nothing scary about it, right? A few benches? Some plants? 

Big. Freaking. Mistake.


Ah, geezz! Do I have to spell it out for you??

HERE!

"What's that?" you ask.


That, my friends, is a death trap! I actually think it might be the head off of a sprinkler, but I don't really care WHAT it is used for.

What it does (to the unsuspecting runner - that's merely jogging through this HUGE sidewalk/crosswalk area looking at the traffic in the intersection to determine if she can safely cross the road) is nearly kill her.


This round beauty found itself under my left foot (the one with tendonitis last year, with Plantar Fasciitis until recently, and all-around-my-least-favorite-foot). I found myself trying not to land in oncoming traffic.

I'm fairly certain had I just let myself fall, my ankle would not be sprained and hurting and swelling and propped up in my hotel room with ice on it.

However, I would have landed in the road and most likely been run over by the oncoming traffic. (Side note: Where the hell are all of these people going at 5:00a.m.???)

I'm pretty sure the guy that honked at me while passing was merely giving me a "Perfect 10" for my mad-life-saving-gymnastic skills.

So am I just pissed & embarrassed for tripping and nearly falling out all over the place in front of a ton of people?  

Puh. Leaz..

I don't get embarrassed.

I'm pissed.
I'm pissed I twisted my ankle and I'm a few weeks out from a 10K.
I'm pissed it was my left one - not my right-"I'm Soooo perfect"-foot.
I'm even MORE pissed that I broken my running sunglasses during my graceful performance. If you've ever needed no-fog glasses, you understand my irritable mood. If you've ever bought a pair, now you really get it.

This running thing is going to kill me one of these days. But I guess we all are going to die at some point. Since the day we were born we were dying. We don't typically have control over how long we'll each be on this earth. Good people die young or in agony. Bad people die old and peacefully in their sleep. There's no comprehensible reasoning to it - other than we're not in charge of when or necessarily how it will happen.

Which makes me wonder - why is it when someone dies of a heart attack while running a race (whether it's a marathon or a 5K), people tell me to "Be Careful". Like running is going to make my life shorter some how? I'm fairly certain if someone dies while running they were either 1) going to have a heart attack anyway - somewhere, someday - regardless of their fitness level; or 2) trying to get fit and it was the 40 years prior to that run that caused the heart attack.

Be Careful out there guys! I heard that someone died while driving down the interstate and crashed their car!

Oh, and Be Careful! You don't want to choke on those cheese puffs your stuffing down your throat while feed your XBox addiction.

At least if I had died while running - whether from a heart attack or getting ran over - it's what I love doing.

Death is a part of life.You need to stop worrying about when and where you'll die, and just be prepared for it.

Enough about death. Time to take a few days off (according to my coach and therapist, the great  marathoner Jennie Vee Silk). The hay is in the barn. Thanks JV. I needed the pep talk.

Gotta run......

Gotta limp & hobble....

Lord I was born a ramblin' (wo)man...

Total Miles: 4-ish?

Was it because of the heat?
Was it because of the absolutely cloudless sky and 75 degree temperatures?
Was it because the first 2 miles had no shade?
Was it because my allergies are acting up?
Was it because I woke up with a headache?
Was it because I took (expired) Allegra about an hour before my run?
Was it because I was frustrated that the people I really needed to talk to this morning weren't available?
Was it because I didn't run until 10a.m.?
Was it because my new batman shoes made my calves tired?
Was it because my new expensive shoes may not be the right new shoes for my pitiful feet after all?
Was it because I ate fast food for the first time this week last night for supper?
Was it because I ate onion rings for supper and belched onion rings all morning?
Was it because I have grease running through my veins this morning?
Was it because I ate Fiber One cereal for breakfast?
Was it because I didn't drink enough water yesterday?
Was it because I forgot to take chewing gum on my run?
Was it because I forgot to put on chapstick before my run?
Was it because I used Sport "Sweatproof" sunblock and it ran into my eyes from the sweat?
Was it because my Garmin and I had an argument this morning?
Was it because I had to wait impatiently for that damn Garmin to charge before the run?
Was it because my boss told me yesterday that I had better enjoy my vacation in a couple of weeks because after that I'll be going non-stop?
Was it because I already feel like I'm going non-stop?
Was it because I feel out-of-sorts due to my work week being totally wrecked and changed around from what I had planned?
Was it because Mark & I were out late last night?
Was it because Mark's Grandmother is in her final days and I feel helpless and feel like she's simply waiting to die?
Was it because I'm wondering what in the world she's waiting for?
Was it because I have a very slow and sad hymn stuck in my head on repeat?
Was it because I haven't run with an Ipod in a very long time and I need a "pick-me-up"?
Was it because I haven't been running on the road lately - logging most of my miles on the treadmill instead?
Was it because my Mom needs me to take her to the doctor's office this afternoon to have her eyes checked - again - after a very serious blindness scare and eye surgery a few years back - and she's having problems seeing?
Was it because Shelly called this morning to say our building permits are ready to be picked up?
Was it because I'm completely overwhelmed with all the stuff I need to get done just to build a house?
Was it because I'm somewhat frustrated that we haven't broken ground yet?
Was it because I'm wondering how the hell I'm going to be traveling non-stop, building a house, keeping my marriage together, train for a half marathon, and somehow keep my sanity all at the same time?
Was it because I was chased down by two bitchy and bitey Chihuahuas and I only had one treat to divide between them?
Was it because I keep running the same 4 mile loop around the house when I get out on the road?
Was it because my legs are on autopilot on this route?
Was it because I'm thinking about joining a running group on Saturdays which would take away from what little time I'm going to have with Mark on the weekends?
Was it because I feel guilty that I want that, but pissed because I feel guilty for wanting it?
Was it all just because of a head-game?

No doubt it was one or most of those things.
No doubt my mind rambles to too many places while running.
No doubt I need to plug in some headphones on my next run to drown out my own thoughts.
No doubt I need to eat better to fuel a body that's training for a race.

No doubt my life is hectic and it's not going to get any easier.

No doubt this was a shit run.

No doubt it will happen again.

No doubt - I.Will.Not.Quit.

Gotta run...

Sex and Fruit

Today's Miles: 502 miles on my butt; 1 mile walking to/from Walmart; 2 miles of wandering aimlessly in Walmart; 3 miles running on treadmill

I'm ready for race season. Although I've thought about it, I haven't run a single race yet. But I'm itching too.

Here's the problem - in a world where there's a 5K about every weekend, there doesn't seem to be any local ones when I actually have a free weekend! That's a bit annoying.

I decided a couple of weekends ago to run a 5K on the spur of the moment. That moment came on a Friday morning and the race was early on Saturday morning. I really wanted to run that race to measure where I was and if I had improved over last year. I didn't get home until late on Friday night, and racing at 7a.m. the next morning was just not going to happen.

On that Sunday, I decided to run my own race. But it was hot. And I'm a wuss. I changed my plans and decided to run it on the treadmill.

A 5K racing history for me:
August 2010     37:29
May 2011         32:58
August 2011     32:38

The thing about running on the treadmill is I know that the calibration is off a bit, but I wonder how much? I strapped on my Garmin footpod that's supposedly calibrated for my cadence as a backup. (And I pulled the incline to 0.5% so that I wasn't running a completely flat course!)

According to the treadmill, I ran a 5K in 30:39.
According to the Garmin, I ran a 5K in 28:32.

I haven't decided if I'm bummed I didn't run a sub-30 or completely stoked that I did run a sub-30. I'm so confused. 2 minutes is a HUGE difference on a 5K. And going sub-30 has been a dream of mine. I'm not even sure if I fulfilled that dream or not. Most likely not because a week later, my footpod died. I think it might have a battery inside it, but I'm too much of a dork to figure out how to take the back off without breaking it.

What does all of this have to do with Sex & Fruit....nothing...but you're reading anyway.... you perve.

So here you go...I have an extreme aversion to Walmart. I always leave completely pissed, totally exhausted, and typically without what I went there for because I gave up looking for it. Plus, I'm really scared of Walmartians. I akin them to large, wild, carnivorous animals. I like to look at them from afar or behind a glass (like on Walmart.com), but I don't want to get close enough to be injured by them (like getting run over by a buggy).

Against my better judgement, I went to Walmart today.

I went into Walmart in Live Oak, FL for two things. If I were looking for either 1) condoms or 2) fresh peaches I would have had no problems and would have been in and out in 5 minutes flat. Seriously. The people down here must have A LOT of sex. The condoms were front and center when you walked in, and I randomly saw a half a dozen posted around the store. But Hey! At least they use protection! And they like fresh peaches, but I can't blame them on that one. I LOVE fresh peaches.

They support the sex and agriculture industries down here, but you know what they are ashamed of? Mother Nature and literacy. The two things I needed were tampons and a spiral bound notepad. So, if you ever go to the Live Oak Walmart and need these two things, let me draw you a map - you're going to need it. The tampons are stuck in the most obscure alcove possible, next to the garden center. Because doesn't everyone plug up the holes in the bottom of the clay pots with tampons as a slow release moisture trap for outdoor plants? And the notebooks are in the opposite corner next to the automotive department. Because Bubba needs highlighters and sticky notes to properly change the oil in his car?

Really Walmart? What's up with this?

Oh WAIT!! I GET IT!! I'm in FLORIDA! Full of retired people! The tampons are more useful as garden tools than anything else; they don't let the grandkids visit (unless they need their car serviced); fresh peaches are easy to gum; and well - just because you're old doesn't mean you're dead. There's hope for us all!

Gotta run...

Apples v Carrots

Today's Miles: none yet. Flipped out tired from working & driving home yesterday. Me, the A.C. and the Treadmill will make peace later.

I've got an ass.

I know. So do you. But mine's different.

Mine is cute.
Mine is white.
Mine is dirty.
Mine is wooly.
Mine does not like to be touched.

Jealous? I bet you are, except about the wooly & dirty part.

If you haven't figured it out yet, we've got donkeys. Several donkeys in fact. There's Ollie - the first (four-legged) ass on the farm. Ollie was lonely and needed a friend, mostly so he'd stop trying to bite and mount the heifers. So, then came Jennie with her little one, CrackerJack. Well. As these things happen, Ollie and Jennie went out on a date, and forgot to take protection.....

Along came:

Depending on the day of the week, and which niece/nephew you ask, his name is either Brody or Jackson. (Yes, they name them after friends or siblings of friends they like.)

I, however, named him "Little Donkey." Because I'm original like that. In our family we have Barn Cat, Yellow Dog, Pond Dog, Little Man, Black Cat. We're so creative.

The last few weeks, I've been trying to teach this little ass to trust a lady with apples. His mamma is very skiddish, and I'm the only person she'll take carrots from. (Which I've learned little asses prefer apples over carrots, and big asses prefer carrots.) She taught Little Donkey well. He's in the barn being weaned from his mamma, and I'm trying to teach him people are okay.



It takes time. It takes patience.
You just can't shove an apple into a little ass and expect a good outcome.
You must convince the little ass that he wants it.

And as of earlier this week, I finally petted this little ass! Just for a moment. He's finally letting me touch his head. He doesn't like it. But now he knows he must let me do that if he wants an apple.

Just call me the Ass Whisperer.

Gotta run...

You Only Wish You Were Like Me

Total Miles: Only about a mile or so

BUT WAIT!!!! I did over 25 flights of stairs and some lunges, squats and arm curls. That counts for something...right?

Here's a post I put on Facebook earlier today...

"I smell so bad I'm sitting next to the bathroom hoping people think that's what is smelling up the place."

I was sitting in Chick-fil-a.
In a posh Washington DC suburb in Virginia.
After spending about 2 hours at one of the neatest, but smelliest dairy barns I've ever been in. (Which was weird in itself. Clean barns are not normally smelly.)

But this wasn't just any kind of smelly. This was Stanky kind of smelly. Scccchhhmmmeeeeelly.

The kind that soaks up into your hair.
And your nose hairs.
And your pores.
The kind of Schmelly that makes you nearly fall out of the shower when you jump in with the hot water & steam running.

I normally would not go in to a restaurant and eat in this kind of condition. However:
1) I was hungry!
2) I really wanted to wash my hands.
3) I wanted a salad. I have yet to master the eating a salad while driving maneuver. And
4) I needed some WiFi to send read some emails with attachments and respond to them.

So, the poor people of Posh Chick-fil-a got a bad taste in their mouth today thanks to me - because you know taste is about half smell anyway.

To make my day complete, I had to drive about 2+ hours to my next farm visit in West Virginia. Then another 3 hrs to Mi Casa for the night in Altoona, PA. But if the story were just about driving another 5 hrs, then it wouldn't be on this blog now would it?

At some point today....after Chick-fil-a-Stank-a-thon and before West Virginia farm visit, I had a craving for peanut butter M&Ms. I blame the cashier at the gas station that took 4 minutes to take each individual banana out of the box and place into a basket - while I was staring at the M&Ms, because I didn't want to stare directly at him. Too bad he wasn't stocking the M&Ms. This day may have ended better.

What I did not realize was that at some point during the drive and me snacking on M&Ms, I dropped one in my seat. Not a green one. Not a blue one. Not red. Not yellow. But brown. It had to be brown. I realized it about 7pm when I stripped down for a shower.

So, not only have I scarred the people of Posh Chick-fil-a Virginia. There are now a group of redneck West Virginian dairy farmers, a gang of Hispanic milkers and a troop of truckers that firmly believe that I shart myself. They had the smell and the stain to prove it.

I have no shame.

Gotta run...

Peace Out Dude

Peace.

What exactly is that? Lack of war? Quiet solitude?

For me it's that feeling of a cool fog settling in like a blanket over the mountains on a crisp, cool morning.

That feeling of a warm breeze gentling massaging your skin as you lay on the beach with your toes in the sand.

It's a physical thing. It's a mental thing. It's a spiritual thing. The same feeling can come from anything. Anywhere. At anytime.

I'm a fairly peaceful person. I get riled. I can get really pissed at times. But those moments thankfully do not last for long. Mostly, I am at peace.

It took a long time to get here. It was a long journey. It was a hard journey. I would draw you a map if I could, but there's no way to give you step by step directions. It's an incredibly awesome place to find yourself on a daily basis. I really wish I could get more people here because the world by far would be a better place.

But some may never find any level of peace. I find that incredibly sad.

My only advice is that the first thing you must do when searching for peace is be willing to give up control.

Oh.....that's a hard one. A REALLY hard one.

You can't control everything. You want it this way....well, guess what, someone else wants it another way. Is it really worth the struggle to get it your way? In some cases it really may be. But mostly, it's not.

I can't control airlines.
I can't control traffic.
I can't control the idiots I find myself surround by on occasion.
I can't control the decisions or lack-of that my bosses make.
I can't control the mistakes of others.
I can't control how others react to my mistakes.
I can't control the playlist on the radio.
I can't control the unthoughfulness, rudeness, or downright meanness of others.

But I can control how I react to all of this.

I read this last night from Pastor Matt Cannon's blog...

"I can’t control all of the things that have happened to me in the past and I won’t be able to control the things that happen to me in the future. But I can control how I react.  Better than this, I can allow the Holy Spirit to control how I react."

It's a message I felt that needed to be shared.

Gotta run....

3325 Inspirations in Less Than A Mile

Today's Miles: 2 miles at tempo pace

Yes. You read that right. I'm running again!! YAY!! YIPEE!! I mean REALLY running again. WOOHOO!!! I bumped my long run to 4 miles yesterday!! I'm so stupidly excited about it too.

Aren't you? Why not!? You should be!

This has been one incredible weekend!

On Friday, after flight delays (again), I made it home in time for Mark and I to close on our house loan!! WOOHOO!!!

OMGI'veneverbeeninthismuchdebt

IthinkI'mgonnapuke

But that means we get to start building soon. Well. After Dad builds a barn for a farmer whose barn burnt down over 2 years ago. 

Oh. And after the first cutting of hay comes off - because you know we're building in the middle of HIS hayfield on OUR land.

No worries. It will probably take until June to get everything ready to break ground anyway. (But bet on this, when that round baler leaves the driveway, I'll be out there with a shovel digging footers if I have to!)


Other exciting stuff....

This weekend was Knoxville Marathon weekend. No, I wasn't running. Psht. I'm just up to 4 miles!

But, my niece Robin ran in the Kids Run on Saturday evening. She was so nervous - my fearless niece that stands on the back of her horse because she thinks she's a trick pony rider - was nervous about running a mile. I'll admit, I wasn't so sure she could do it either. Our practice run a few weekends ago was.....unproductive? She's a weaver. She'll look to the left, then start weaving to the left. Look to the right, weave to the right. Mark & I were certain she'd trip someone. She also would only run for about 3 minutes, then need to walk. So, I was expecting more of the same for the Kids Run.

On the way there, she kept saying "I haven't trained for this." With a lot of anxiety in her voice.

So, how did she do? The gun went off - and so did she! I kept yelling after her, "Robin slow down." I didn't want her to sprint out at the front because she wouldn't make it to the end. Then after 1/2 a mile I'd yell "Robin Slow Down!" Simply because I couldn't keep up with her!!

She ran the ENTIRE mile! She'd slow down a bit when I'd yell for her, then she'd shoot off like a rocket again. Weaving her way through the 1300 other kids (and about 800 adults). She did great! I was so proud of her! And I'm so proud of me!! I ran my fastest mile ever!!! 9:13 minutes!  (If she runs again next year, it's ME that's going to have to do some training!)

Sunday was RACE DAY!!

I had several friends running in either the 5K, the 1/2 Marathon or the full Marathon. They all did exceptionally well!! I was lucky to be stationed where the 1/2 and the full split off. The 1/2 runners went past me down to Neyland Stadium & the finish line. The full runners went another 25 miles and passed me on their way to the finish line.

I felt like a cheerleader again! 5 hours of "Great job!" "You're doing great!" "You can do this!" "Stay strong!" and my favorite line of the day "LESS THAN A MILE!!" It was amazing to see people's spirits raise up when I said that one! Some dug deep and punched in another gear. Some were relieved that the end was near. Some were pissed that they still had further to go.

I witnessed incredible things on Sunday. Determination. Courage. Will power. Strength. Insanity.  Desperation. Hopelessness. Limpers. Bleeders (someone forgot to tell one poor fella about nipple chafing....bleedingnippleslookspainful). Draggers (one lady literally had two people - one on each side - holding her upright by the back of her shorts and her elbows while she "ran" the last mile). Beggers. Winners.

I saw incredibly talented runners take 13.1 or 26.2 miles with apparent ease and speed. I saw 400 lb men & women struggling with their will power to finish 13.1 miles - and THEY DID!! I saw an 82 year old man compete using a WALKER!! I saw a crippled man with leg braces walk 13.1 miles!

See that's the thing about running. You don't have to be in first place. Not in the race. Not in your age group. Everyone that went out there and stepped across that start line was a winner. Some didn't even finish the race. But they had trained for it. They had sacrificed. They had won.

Mark asked me why anyone would subject themselves to that kind of commitment, (pain), anxiety, (pain), exhaustion, (pain), etc. (yougetmydrift). It's nothing I can accurately describe. "A feeling of accomplishment" doesn't do it justice. It's something you have to experience to understand. And it doesn't have to be 26.2 miles. Or even 13.1 miles. It could be a 10K. Or a 5K. Or a mile. Or a trip around the block! It's whatever YOU set your mind to DO!

The best part of the weekend, was running that Less Than A Mile with my friend Amy Gibson Hammontree. This was her first full marathon. And it was a TOUGH course. I am so proud that she ran a marathon, and so proud for her courage to tackle the Knoxville Hilly Marathon. When I saw her running towards me, I was so excited...and a bit worried. So, I decided to run the last mile with her to keep her company and keep her going.

I've never before talked to someone after they've run 25+ miles - and let me tell you this...It.Ain't.Pretty. (Or coherent.)

She didn't have to say much though...or rather she just couldn't. The fact that she never stopped and kept running and made it across that finish line was AWESOME! Jumbled words and tears and all. I am SO proud of her.

Maybe one day I'll find the courage to tackle a full marathon?

Gotta run...

Living the charmed life

Today's Miles: 3 walking. 0.25 running (see below). Plus 120 lunges and 60 push-ups.

Sunday was a VERY long day of driving from TN to PA. Over 10 hours. 577 miles. With someone I just met. Who liked to talk. A. lot. I hit the sack at 12:30 a.m. Monday morning and was dead out at 12:31 a.m.

On Monday morning, I woke up early to hit the gym & make up for the lack of physical activity on Sunday.
I decided to hit the treadmill.....walk a bunch (trying to make sure I get my 10K steps a day) and run a bit after I talk to Mark on the phone. 7 a.m. = walking. Waiting on Mark to call. 7:30 a.m. = Mark finally calls. After talking to him for nearly half an hour I decide to start running. I crank up the treadmill and run for about 2 minutes. All of a sudden...........SCCCRRREEEEEEEECHH. Except, it actually stopped in less time than it took to type out screech. Most treadmills slow to a stop. This one stopped so fast I was nearly catapulted off of it.

Hmmm. That was weird. Why'd this thing stop? Maybe I hit the emergency stop button?

Let's try this again. Crank up the speed. Get into a good run. Pass the 2 minute mark...Okay, I'm good. 

SSSSCCCCRREEEECCHHH.  Seriously? What's up with this thing? 

One last try. Crank up the speed. Run for about 47 seconds.

SCCREEEECH.   What the....
 
SLAM. BAM.    Damn it that hurt!

That's why I only ran 0.25 miles. The treadmill was possessed. It was not the only demon I encountered today.....

This afternoon I was at a farm helping with an installation that involved placing somewhat sensitive electronic equipment in a barn full of curious cows. We had to run wires to hook up the equipment and mount antennas and all kinds of fun electronic guru stuff. What my computer specialist technician was not prepared for was the curiosity level of cows. Most just watched and eyed us with suspicion while they went about their business of eating. Some would come and sniff us or our equipment. But there was this one....the ButtLicker. She was ALL up in our business. Checking out absolutely EVERYTHING we did. And every time you turned your back on her...yep....right on the ass. She molested me at least a dozen times. And when you shooed her away, she'd just go to the next person. Then get shooed, and eventually come back to you. The owner's son came through once when she was fondling me as I was bent over working on something with one hand and smacking her in the head (in vain) with the other. He started laughing and said "Yeah, she can be a pain sometimes. But watch her because I think she's coming into heat." (For those non-aggies, "in heat" means she's "in the mood.") Great. Now I've got a horny cow molesting me that will likely try to mount me at some point.

ButtLicker became part of our installation crew. When all of the other cows lost interest, had eaten their lunch and were settled in bed for a bout of cud chewing....ButtLicker continued to woo each of us to see if we'd respond positively to her advances. After some time, she realized we were on to her game and she lost interest in us, but not what we were doing. Someone (I'll call her M), left a 75 ft roll of wire that was connected to two of these somewhat sensitive electronic boxes and half-way mounted to a post, casually tossed over a gate.

Here's the thing about curious cows. If it will fit in their mouth, they'll eat it. If it's something they think they can play with, they will. If they can destroy it, you shouldn't have put it in the barn in the first place.

I turn around and see ButtLicker with her head through a loop in the wire. Oh...No.

Before I could walk the 25 steps to get to her, she somehow got herself all tangled up. Ever have your dog on a leash and they get the leash wrapped around their head and legs, then sit down and look at you like "Help?"

Cows don't do that. And cows weigh 1200 lbs.

ButtLicker started to panic. Making it worse. Then she decided she wanted out of there. So I stepped in front of her to keep her from bolting and someone (I'll call him B) decided to walk up behind her to box her in..... Which suddenly turned this panicked cow into a circus performer. She managed to spin a 360 on one hoof, and I swear she ended her spinning with "TADA!"  This maneuver also revved up her spunkiness - which resulted in her bucking around a bit like she was wanting us to play with her. Now we only have about 3 foot left of wire...and remember those somewhat sensitive electronic boxes? Let's just say I'm glad we had extra. They don't respond well to being catapulted across a barn.

To keep ButtLicker still long enough to unwrap her, I volunteered M to stand at her head and be molested while me and the farmer's son untangled the beast.


As if that weren't enough for the day....
At the end of this very long day.... I had to Pee. Not one of those, I'll go up to the bathroom shortly or I'm a little uncomfortable. It was barely-make-it-to-the-toilet-and-get-your-pants-down-before-the-dam-breaks kind of pee. Somehow, I make it to the....uh....bathroom.

The bathroom was a permanently mounted port-a-potty. Luckily, it was the cleanest port-a-potty I've EVER seen in my life!

So I go running into the port-a-potty and get my pants down just in time. Ahhhhh. Niagara Falls is released!

Suddenly, my leg is wet. What the??? OH HOLY CRAP THE LID'S DOWN!! I'M PEEING ON THE LID!! (As I involuntarily start to stand a bit out of shock.) At this point, I can't stop peeing. SHIT! SHIT! I CAN'T STOP PEEING! Pee is running off the lid onto the back of my pants and undies, and I'm peeing on my own leg.

Just another normal day...

Gotta run....

Three pounds of guilt

Total Miles: Not sure...check the Fitbit stat in the morning.

Do you ever feel trapped? Feel that need to just run away?

I've been in a bit of a funk of late. Maybe a tad depressed? I've not really had a lot of energy, not cared a lot about writing my blog (sorry peeps) or much of anything important (sorry Dear Husband), work is overwhelming, house planning is overwhelming. There are days I just want to eat a HUGE carton bowl of ice cream and lay on the couch and watch TV all day.

Oh wait.... I think I did that for a few days. In case you missed the last episode, I had the mother of all a very bad head cold that had me wiped out for 2 weeks. One week of on-the-road suffering. One week of on-the-couch suffering and trying not to go Wicked-Witch-of-the-West-on-steroids-with-PMS-Postal on my husband. No worries. He survived. Barely. With a few bruises maybe.

So, what's up with me? I'm normally pretty damn cheerful (even when I'm bitching about something). But I've been such a grouch of late.

Finding balance in life is tough. We all have our thing. Some are overwhelmed parents with kids running all over the country to every after school activity imaginable. Some are overworked professionals who wouldn't know what to do with all of the extra time if they only worked a 40 hour work week. Some are struggling to make ends meet. Some are families in the middle of a major life change - moving, divorcing, getting married and blending families, building a house, retiring. We could sit and play the game of "who's got it worse," but no one really wins at that game. You just want to drink more.

It's hard to sit back and see all of the wonder in your life when you're overwhelmed and feeling trapped. I mean really - what's my problem? I've got an incredible husband who would and has done everything in the world for my happiness; a great family that is always there when you need them, and not when you don't; a great job; a roof over my head; too much food in my stomach; what's the deal? Why can't I see the blessings in all of that? Not sure why...I just didn't.

So, what do you do about it? What can you do about it?

First....get off your ass.

Next....do something that requires just a bit of physical exertion. Go for a walk. Go for a jog. Do some yoga stretches. Do some push-ups. I don't care what it is. DO SOMETHING!

Repeat daily.

Seriously. It may be that simple. Endorphins from exercise are the most powerful drug on the planet. Don't get me wrong, you might need professional help and medication - and that's okay. But you may just be in a self-inflicted funk. I'm talking about more than just the "woe is me" feeling that goes away after a day of self pity. This one lasts for a bit.

Exercise truly has a magical way of changing your outlook.

For example:

The last run I went on was at the beach in St. Petersburg, FL while at a conference. That was January 25. When we got back from there, I was tired as heck. I'd worked for 2 straight weeks without a day off (yes, being at a conference at the beach is work when your presentation to an international group isn't until the last day of the conference = STRESS!!), and I was totally stressing, and I had been working out nearly every day for weeks. So I decided to take the rest of the week off from exercising. My mind and my body needed a few days.

Then somehow with my crazy ass schedule, I wound up working super long days, then another weekend and then got sick.  So...three weeks gone in a flash... with no exercising.

By the fourth week, I was miserable. I really didn't give a shit about much of anything. My job suffered, my attitude suffered, and mostly my husband suffered. I had the intent of working out some that week, but my schedule had me working back to back 16 hr days for half of the week....more tired....more moodiness....more this-chocolate-bar-will-make-me-feel-better-even-if-only-for-a-minute episodes....which led to more self doubt, out of control feelings, self-loathing, body image issues. Seriously, I felt like I looked like a whale. My pants were too tight. I was ashamed at what I had become (in 4 weeks). Soft. Weak. Emotional.

I avoided the scale at all costs. I walked by it, and it just KNEW. I could see it just shaking it's head at me...saying "But you worked so hard for what? Nothing? You're such a failure! Go eat another candy bar then come see me you fatass." (Yes, I have a Nazi scale.)

This past Sunday I finally had a moment of mental clarity or a break through or a slap up the back of the head (Thanks Baby!) or whatever you want to call it. I needed to get over it. I needed to get up and get off my ass and get over it. So what if I'm starting over. So what if I fell off the wagon. So WHAT?

So...Monday morning, I very shamefully and very slowly with only one eye partly opened hopped on that scale...and guess what. 3 pounds. I only gained three pounds. For a month of nothing, over-eating and steroids....three pounds. I was so expecting like 10 or something. It felt like 10. It felt like 50 pounds of more than just body weight, there was some guilt-pounds in there too I'm sure of it. Guilt for letting Mark down. Guilt for not doing good enough at work. Guilt for not doing enough for me.

But those 3 pounds did a lot of damage in 4 weeks. And it has out-stayed its welcome.

I'm back on the wagon, of sorts. I pulled out the FitBit and started walking. Time to get back to my 10,000 steps a day - plantar fasciitis be damned. I'm jogging a bit, trying not to really over do it. I'm strength training a bit. I'm counting calories again. And you know what. I feel so much better.

Just getting off the couch and moving has made me feel so much better. I feel IN CONTROL. I can now see that in a few weeks I'll be running again. I'll pick out a spring race and start training. My 3 pounds will leave and I wish it would take that stubborn paunch of backfat with it. And life will go on. I'll get back my cheeriness. Mark and I will find our happy place again.

When I'm in control of myself, the rest of my world is orderly. When I'm out of control - my life reflects it, in every way. If I don't put myself first, I'm no good to others.

So what are you waiting for? Get off your ass and do something!

Gotta run...to bed. It's late!

PS - We're going to the bank tomorrow to see about a home loan. But my plan is to have a bit of a walk or jog early in the morning to combat the overwhelming "I think I'm going be sick" feeling that is building up. The irony is Mark is cool as a cucumber about this - he's been working out!!!

The alien in my head

Today's Miles: I haven't run in over 2 weeks. :(


I also haven't blogged recently. I haven't felt the inspiration. Not running does not get my writing-juices flowing so you have been missing out.

Sorry for that.

But Here Ya' Go. Though by the end you may never read my nasty blog again....

That's my CowHerdingFriendRachael.

And. That. Ain't. Mud.

Ya see....that's the thing about us girls that leave & breathe & occasionally swallow cow manure. There's not a whole lot that's going to gross us out. (I would've posted pictures of me in that kind of nastiness, but I'm too lazy to scan pictures tonight. Maybe another time. Thanks for modeling Rachael!)

Well, there are these two little things that gross me out:
1 - Vomit (I'm a sympathetic puker - even for myself)
2 - SnotRockets

So let me tell you about this week. Sunday, I drove 9 hours to PA. Got all cozy in Mi Casa Holiday Inn Express for the night. Woke up at 12am FREEZING cold. I'm talking - shaking the bed so hard the people next door thought I was throwing down for the long haul - kind of shivering! Even with the thermostat cranked above 80F, I found NO relief. An entire night of chills, freezing cold, feverish hell.

Monday morning. I'm still feverish. Throat is afire. But I manage to shower and go downstairs for bananas and waffles. After 4 bites, I realized what a big mistake this was. Still feverish, weak, dizzy, I manage to get back up to my 3rd floor room and bust through the door. I had a split second to make this decision.....

Should I:

1) throw up in the toilet - where Who-Know's-What has been sitting there doing God-Know's-What and Who Knows if it was ever cleaned? Or
2) throw up in the shower - thinking I'm going to have to take another shower in here and banana chunks won't fit down that drain cover and if I have to keep looking at it, I'll throw up some more.

The decision:  the toilet. I've never hovered so well while vomiting, but I managed. Afterward, I knew I had made the right decision because the shower would NOT have handled that well. I'll skip the part about the toilet getting stopped up and not flushing completely and I simply closed the lid, went about my day and checked out.

I spent the next hour with my feverish face plastered on the cool tile floor of the bathroom wondering if I could get athlete's foot on my face.

Then magically - I'm good. Time to go to work. Quick shower (told ya') and off we go. I don't feel great, but I'll manage.

Monday and Tuesday degraded significantly. More fevers. More painful throats. My sinuses are getting chocked full & pressurized. Thankfully no more vomiting. But by Tuesday night, I was searching for a clinic. No luck. (I seriously do not know how people in rural America survive with the closest doctor being an hour away.) So, Wednesday morning, I found myself in the pharmacy stocking up on Advil (to reduce the swelling in my nasal passages), Tylenol (to reduce my fever), Musinex (to break up this congestion) and a sinus irrigation system.

Thanks to my cousin Aubrey Maples Saus and my good friend Jason Webb (yes, you are named because this is SO your fault!), I was convinced I needed a Neil Med Sinus Rinse mostly because you don't have to be graceful like with a Neti pot, and you add a little pressure to it. (At this point, I needed a firehose.)

I was NOT properly prepared for what was about to take place. Which is silly, because it all makes perfect sense now.

By Wednesday night my head was so full of snot, I couldn't hold it up straight. My face was so puffy, I couldn't hardly see out of my right eye and my head HURT. I knew I smelled like a cow so I thought, "Well, why not shower and do a sinus rinse while you're in there. Two for one!"

Remember the SnotRocket comment from earlier. I don't know why they gross me out. But they do. Buggers don't. Blowing your nose in a tissue don't (unless you do it at the dinner table in which I will punch you in the face). You are only allowed SnotRockets while out on a long run & you're less than 1/2 way home and you forgot your snot rag. Otherwise, wipe it on your sleeve or even your arm! But just blowing out a SnotRocket on the ground makes me gag! And if you do that throat clearing, pulling snot out of the back of your throat, and spitting it out thing.....BLLLEEEEEAAAAGGGGHHH! Induce....vomiting.....

So, imagine:

Jabba the Hut eating The Blob, then pooping it out, and eating it again, and pooping it out again.

Oh, what? That wasn't enough visual for you? Here you go....

This...

Plus This.....

Equals.....

Don't worry, I'll spare you a picture of that.....


This is what I learned from a sinus rinse:

1) When your snot hole is plugged full and you use a sinus irrigation system that has some pressure to it - you can either blow out your ear drum or shoot snot across a bathtub with impressive force or both.

2) Do not use an irrigation system in a shower with a central drain. The first rinse, I was climbing the walls like drunken Spider Man (because my balance is so off from popping my ear, that I nearly fall over) trying not to step on JabbaBlob's Poop. The second rinse, I was circling the drain on the opposite side of JabbaBlob's Poop like we were doing some weird dance. Around. And Around. And Around.

3) Do NOT sneeze just after rinsing unless you have a towel to catch it in. Otherwise, you might blow it all over the side of the bathtub. Priority Club is SO going to revoke my Platinum membership after this week.

4) Did you know that your snot hole can hold about 200 ml of JabbaBlob's Poop. And it can replenish in less than 12 hours?

Repeat the above mentioned scenarios for 3 more days. But with a little more grace (or as much as you can muster while using a snot irrigator).

By Friday night, I needed an exorcist.

All of this irrigating only proved to me that I had an alien growing in my head.

Since I wasn't going to make it back in time to see my doctor, I found a Take Care Clinic in Knoxville this morning.

The wonderfully sweet RN informed me that I had a serious case of a sinus infection (ah....duh). And that she was going to put me on an antibiotic (YAY!) and in a very sweet voice, "A steroid that will give you Wicked Witch of the West PMS."

Here's hoping the antibiotic kicks in before the steroid!

Gotta Run...

Deep-fried diabetes

Today's Miles: 1.5 miles on the steady tready.

Do you have a life altering disease?

No? Good for you!

Oh wait, what was that? Oh, yes, you do? I'm sorry. But why the hell didn't you share it with the world? It's OUR business to know YOUR health so that WE can criticize YOUR choices!

I didn't tell ANYONE about my diabetes for nearly one year after my diagnosis. NO ONE. Not family. Not friends. Not the random guy I past on the street. NO ONE. Why not? Maybe it was because it was simply no one's F***ing business??? Or maybe it was just because the random guy on the street could care less.

But seriously - the reason I didn't tell anyone is because I knew that "the telling" of the disease would be followed with "the questions" about the disease. And I didn't have the answers. I had to figure it out on my terms. I had to figure out how to continue to live my life, be happy, enjoy the little things, and still eat.

Oh, that's the shitter about having type 2 diabetes.....you just can't stop eating!? You can't just eliminate sugar and be cured! Each individual with the disease has tolerance levels, triggers, & hands-off food. Each individual has to figure these things out on their terms. Having some third party (doctor, nutritionist, family member, nosy neighbor that knows all) tell you all about what you CAN'T eat does not help.

Oh, and guess what.....it's not just obesity that causes type 2 diabetes. I have obese friends that do no have diabetes....but I do! Does it put you at a higher risk factor? Yep. But your genetics have a lot to do with it. Your age has a lot to do with it. Other diseases and medications that you take also can trigger type 2 diabetes. Don't you DARE hear "so-and-so" has diabetes....and assume....Well, she must be a fat-ass. 

Call me a fat-ass and see what happens. I guarantee I'm fit enough to make you regret that statement. I've run 2 half-marathons. I've run several 5K's and 10K's. Until this latest foot injury, I ran 4 times a week for 2-6 miles a run. I'm still running 3 times a week at low mileage, but also lifting weights and strength training. My bad cholesterol is low. My good cholesterol is high. My blood pressure is on the low side of normal. My resting heart rate is 52. I'm only 10 lbs overweight according to my doctor. So....am I unhealthy? Am I an obese slob that can't walk away from a Krispy Kreme? Not hardly.


And guess what, most doctors are IGNORANT on type 2 diabetes. My doctor wanted to immediately put me on drugs and injections.....Uh....no thank you very much! I watched my Pappaw's blood sugar swing higher and lower than my nephew on the playground on a daily basis because of his medication. And I saw how that effected him....Not.Pretty. I wanted no part of that. So, against my doctor's advice, I told him to shove those drugs wherever he would like to experience the side-effects and let me figure this out on my terms. I mean, it wasn't like it was going to kill me within the next 6 months.

In fact, it took nearly a year to figure out I did not have full-blown type 2 diabetes. My doctors were SO on top of it. I have hyperinsulinemia with hypoglycemia. (Look it up if you want to get technical about it). The everyday reality is that if I eat something with super high levels of sugars/simple carbs (or a lot over a days time), my blood sugar will spike, then bottom out. It also means that I have to eat a regular intervals to keep from bottoming out as well. However, exercise is a HUGE advantage and allows me to eat those things that I probably shouldn't but living life without them is depressing....who wants to live without cake and ice cream???

It's a fun roller-coaster to live on everyday. Is it diabetes-like? Absolutely. Will it lead to full blown diabetes? Most likely. So far, despite my doctor's initial advice, I am able to control it (for the most part) with diet and exercise. I have my days where I realize....well, maybe I shouldn't have eaten that particular Chinese dish or maybe I shouldn't have eaten that ENTIRE dessert. But for the most part, I keep my sugar in check....without drugs. Not everyone is capable of doing this. And that's okay. Medication is not right for ME at THIS time. I know there will likely come a day where in order to live a fully & happy life, medication will be necessary. But not yet, not for me.

But back to the point of this blog....if you haven't heard, The Queen of Butter, Mrs. Paula Deen has type 2 diabetes...and she's known about it for 3 years!! GASP!!! She should be battered and deep-fried for lying to her fans!!

Seriously people. It's none of your flipping business if Paula's got type 2 diabetes or gonorrhea. Does she have a cooking show that involves deep frying, batter, butter and sugar....yep. Does she say SHE eats like this every day? Nope. And really - did you REALLY think she ate like that daily? She'd weigh 700 lbs!! Does she say YOU should eat like that every day? NO. Come on people. Get off your high horse and look in the mirror.

If you eat 'clean' every day of your life....well....good for you!! I personally like eating a piece of cake or pie or biscuits and gravy and breaded and fried chicken. But I also like salads, vinaigrettes, & fresh vegetables. I cook low-calorie meals. But I also cook high-calorie meals. I'm making lasagna for dinner tonight WITH garlic breadsticks! (GASP!!!) 

Guess I should be deep fried too for promoting high-calorie meals. You want to throw someone else in for fun? You should read my friend Rachael Burkhart's blog ("Milk Cans and Cake Pans" - can't get the link to work...but look it up...Hilarious!).....you'd think that chick was F.A.T. with all that stuff she cooks, stews, bakes and fries. But guess what - she might weigh a buck10 soaking wet (or wearing 15 layers of UA and Carhartt while feeding cows during the winter). She's fit. She's trim. Just because she makes 3 dozen cookies....doesn't mean she eats them all!! (At least not in one setting) Just because she makes pies and cakes that would make Paula Deen swoon doesn't mean she eats the whole damn thing!

Sorry for the rant. But trying to bring someone down because they didn't tell YOU about THEIR health problems.... well for me today, that's the definition of being an ass.

Gotta run...

How to win in a pissing contest when you only have two legs

Today's Miles - none. I'm a lazy honey badger today.

For those of you who don't know, I work in the field of agriculture. Am I a farmer? No. Do I advise farmers? Yes. Do I advise advisers of farmers? Yes.

One thing about the field of agriculture that is a guarantee - it is a man's world.

This reality is changing a bit, but for the most part, I am surrounded by men daily. Old men; young men; intelligent men; 4-quarters-shy-of-a-full-dollar men; Yankee men; Southern men; gentlemen; brute men; egotistical men; humble men; sexist men; open-minded men; conservative men; liberal men. I've been called Honey, Sweetie, Baby, Ma'am, Little Lady, Miss, Doll, Cutie, and my all-time favorite, That Girl. (Don't you just wish your Mom & Dad named you that when you were born?)

You name it,
I've seen it.
I've heard it.
I've lived it.

Every stare. Every whistle. Every check-out-my-ass-glance. Every "innocent hug". Every joke. Every snide remark. Every rude remark. Every sexist remark. Sexual harassment - yep...to an extent. Never been pressured for sex for my job - which is good...for him anyway. Herman Cain wouldn't have survived that limo ride with me. He'd be known as Herman Can't-No-More.

Many of my lady-friends can relate as they may work in other men-dominated fields....lawyers, sports, truck-drivers, etc.

So, I've spent most of my adult-working-life, standing on a farm or sitting in a meeting or presenting at a conference, surrounded by men. When I first started down this path, I rethought my decision because I realized that for the most part, my colleagues (and those I was trying to advise) were not quick to accept this high-spirited, well-versed, knowledgeable, opinionated woman. (Gasp!!! I know you're shocked. I was too.) But my daddy taught me well.

Suck it up. Accept what you can't change. Learn to work with what you've got. Grow some balls.

So - grow some balls I did.

I learned to read men. Who really is a bigot? Or who just thinks I really find their slime charming? Who do I need on my side for future use? Who is simply an obstacle in my way?

I learned to play men. I can turn on some Southern Charm so smooth it would make Paula Deen proud. I can channel Dolly Parton's wit and care-free (but make no mistake it's oh-so-calculated) attitude like nobody's business.

But the one thing I could never do....join in a pissing contest. I'm one leg shy of having the right equipment for that game. (Ladies - you know what I'm talking about. Sitting around watching guys trying to 'one-up' each other. Who's got the biggest schlong?)

Mostly, I just sit there and want to roll my eyes back in my head far enough that it will cause me to pass out. Or, I pretend I'm sitting in front of a bunch of 4-year old boys....

Oh yeah! Well I can do this or that!

Oh Yeah!! I can do this, like that and it's better than yours!

OH YEAH!! Well, I bet you can't do THIS - but I can!!

That, at least, entertains me to a point. I have often wanted to slam my hand down on the table, or up the back side of their heads, and say - "OKAY boys! Let's put them away and actually try to solve this problem. We all have valid ideas and opinions. Let's play nice for a bit."

But I don't. Simply because I know that won't work. They'd just keep on going with their Who's-Got-The-Biggest-Schlong-Game and think - "That Girl doesn't have any idea what we're trying to accomplish here. She's just wasting valuable time."


So, what to do, what to do??? This has been the one situation that I couldn't figure out how to handle....until now.

Picture this ladies.....

You're at a conference table discussing the future of this fabulous company you work for. You've been doing some market research, and you have an innovative and guaranteed way to make your company millions. But the boys at the table are re-hashing old ideas. The ones they've used before. The tried-and-true-always-the-same-half-ass-results. But Joe's idea will make $$ and only cost $. Jack's will make $$$ and cost $. Etc., etc., etc. The way you break into the conversation with a guarantee you'll get their full attention....

Slowly, reach down into your overnight-sized-purse (this size is necessary), pull out and proudly display on the table....... a 12 inch long dildo.

Then, calmly (no giggling) and without hesitation (yes, you just produced a dildo) speak your mind.

Don't worry if they are not listening. They're not. They'll be staring at this on-demand, biggest schlong in the room. They'll also be nodding when you ask a question, in an automatic response that they aren't even aware of. Then, (within a couple of minutes before their shock-and-awe wears off) say - "Okay great, I'm glad we can agree.....we'll follow my plan! Thanks for your support, I'm sure that we'll make this the best project ever."

Then, calmly put your schlong back in it's carrying case.

Feel free to vary the use of the Super Schlong.

• Pick a bright pink one, or blue. 
• One with big balls attached. 
• Slap a Hello Kitty sticker on it like a tattoo. 
• Gold plate the sucker. 
• Hell, put a skirt and false eyelashes on it!
• Put a suction cup on the base so you can make it stand at attention for your entire speech. Or flick it one good time and watch it dance like a Hula girl. 
• Attach it to a stick so you can use it as a pointer. 
• Insert a laser pointer in the head so that when you squeeze it light shoots out the hole.
• If necessary, you may also use it as a slap stick. Nothing will get a guy's attention quicker than being smacked in the forehead with a dildo.

But be careful. The Super Schlong has great power. Do not over use it. Otherwise, they'll start to think you're a slut and getting off in the bathroom or under your desk. Use it sparingly and only when necessary.



Editorial note:
Some of my friends wonder where I come up with this stuff? Am I really that weird? Am I that twisted? Am I partially psychotic? Yep. Yep. And Possible. BUT...I've figured out at least that I'm not completely to blame. It's genetic. It's not my totally my fault!!! You can't fight your genes you know!! How do I know this? Because this blog was inspired by my hilarious cousin Aubrey's FB post:

I have decided to order a dildo and keep it in my purse for those occasions 

in life where other people who have penises start wagging them 

about in a power play. That way, I can whip mine out and 

waggle it around too. Once all the waggling is done - 

maybe we can get something accomplished.

That was the funniest damn thing I've ever read on Facebook.

BTW - I'm surrounded by women like this.....another FB post by a friend later that same day...the next funniest thing I've ever read on FB

JH: Embryo Mail cracks me up! :)
Comment: LE   What kind of music do you like? Country usually suffices but there's something about ACDC that gets sperm going:)
Comment: JH   I would argue that sperm like that too! My sperm always seemed to like Jason Aldean and Eli Young Band ;)



Gotta run....