National Running Day

I mean, it seems like this is a good excuse for me to post a little somethin' somethin', given my love (errr...like?) for running.

2013 has been a decent year race-wise. I ran the Shamrock Shuffle faster than last year, and I finished the Soldier Field Ten Miler about five minutes slower than last year with a rather lackadaisical training effort. I'm pleased. However I think my best running experience of 2013 would have to be running a 5k with my sister-in-law.

It was a damp and chilly April morning in the northside Chicago neighborhood. I had run the Ravenswood 5k last year and found it  be very fun. Low pressure, gorgeous houses along the route, everyone was just out for a good time. I knew that this race would be the perfect choice for my sister-in-law for her very first 5k. I remember my first 5k (I wrote about it here), and it was such a fantastic and defining moment for me, I was so thrilled to be a part of that with her.

Her goals? To not be the last person and to beat 45 minutes. Her goals became my personal mission. I wasn't worried about the first one. This race aways has lots of walkers, so I knew that so long as we ran SOMETHING, we wouldn't be last. We committed to a ratio of three to one: three minutes running to one minute walking. When we crossed the start line, we were off! And...speedy. We were running at a pace that definitely felt faster than what she had told me she was running in her training. I went with it though. After about a mile, she told me that she was getting winded. I slowed it up, and we were just fine. The ratio worked out perfectly and we were plugging along just fine.

At two miles, I realized we were doing well enough that we were for sure going to beat her time goal. I think I got a little eager, and my pace crept up a little. She was great at communicating this to me, and I slowed down. I started pointing out that we were getting very close. When we got to what I knew was the home stretch, I told her to forget the last walk break, we were going to finish strong. She protested. But I wasn't having her quit on me with the finish line in sight.

"IF YOU DON'T STOP, WE NOT ONLY WILL CRUSH YOUR GOAL TIME, WE WILL FINISH IN LESS THAN 40 MINUTES."

She didn't love me at that moment, but she sucked it up and kept on running. We finished in 39:44. I felt so proud of her. It was almost like it was my first time again as I felt that sweet rush of crossing the finish line.

Running is just...well, it's changed my life. If I can share a part of that with other loved ones, you'd better believe I will. It's not abouy losing weight or getting faster (both are awesome, obviously), but it's so much fun getting up on a Sunday morning and getting fresh air and a good start to the day. So, while I might have had a personal record for the Shamrock Shuffle, the 5k with my sister-in-law was my favorite running experience of the year.

Now...about that 13.1 in two and a half weeks...I guess we will see!

Happy National Running Day to all those who love it like I do! (That is, tolerate it, like getting medals and shirts, and really are in it for post-race brunches and cheeseburgers.)

Last race of the year: Chicago's Hot Chocolate 15K.

Yesterday, I ran my final race of the year, the Chicago Hot Chocolate 15K. My training had been slightly off due to the upcoming time change. I found it increasingly difficult to get up in the mornings and run. (I'm a morning runner, and I have a really hard time running at night, so this meant I missed a lot of runs.) The weather was getting cold. Rather than get my last long run in, I cut it short by two miles.

But I sure wasn't going to sleep through the alarm when it went off. (Especially when we realized that we got an extra hour of sleep thanks to the time change that FINALLY came.)

We got up, bundled up, took our usual pre-race photo for posterity and lined up. I made us a light breakfast (scrambled egg on a bagel) to give us energy. We were ready.

Unfortunately, due to my slower-than-P.I.C. pace, I had to line up apart from him and wait. And wait. And wait. Seriously, I waited for over an hour before I even started WALKING to the start line. By the time I started running, I couldn't feel my toes, my teeth were chattering, and I had an impossible cramp in the front of my right shin. Even worse? I had to pee. Sigh. This was adding up to be my worst race ever.

Then something weird happened. I warmed up. I felt my toes, and the cramp in my shin went away. The 5K split off from the 15K and I was feeling GREAT. Then I got hot. I had to stop to walk and take off my top layer. Then I made a quick pit stop to pee. I probably lost a good 5-6 minutes getting adjusted. It was totally worth it though. Despite my necessary walk break, it was the ONLY walk break I took. When we got to the 9 mile mark, I kicked it up a notch. Seeing the walkers at this point, I knew this is where my training, although not as diligent as for my earlier races, kicked in. I was fast.

 This was my best race of the year (distance-wise). I had my best pace. I finished strong. I was smiling when I crossed the finish line. (Granted, I always smile when I cross. It's why I do it!)

Bring on 2013! I'm already signed up for two races, so let's keep active this winter, yes?

Thank you, sir, may I have another?

Yeah, I said it. I finished one half marathon at a snail's pace and immediately wondered, "When can I do it again, and do it better?" (Y'know, this thought came BEFORE I realized that my lower back was in a world of hurt.)

The race has come and gone. If I am truly honest, I am really disappointed at my finishing time. I was slower (BY FAR) than any of my training runs. It was hot and crowded, but I'm not sure how I finished with my stupid, slow pace. It bugs me, but in all honesty, I crossed that finish line fast with a huge smile on my face.

The first five miles were very tough. I just kept thinking how much farther I had to go and how many more hours and minutes I would have to run. I loved the live bands, loved the DJs, but missed out on having spectators cheer me on. I took to pretending that the signs were all for me, the slow girl plugging along near the end. It helped a little.

At one point, I could hear a spectator shouting ,"YOU CAN DO IT, YOU'RE ALMOST THERE." At mile four, that was almost enough for me to stop running and go punch her in the face. NEWSFLASH, LADY: WHEN WE ARE RUNNING 13.1 MILES, DO NOT SAY "YOU ARE ALMOST THERE" WHEN WE HAVE NINE POINT ONE MILES LEFT TO RUN. I held it together and kept on plugging along. I stopped only for sips of water for the first eight miles. But then I got tired. Everyone around me was walking/limping. I figured I could start taking some walk breaks too. So I did. This was probably my downfall.

Once I hit mile ten, I started to get excited. I WAS DOING THIS. I was walking quite often, but every time I realized I was getting too complacent, I started to run. We'd be going up a ramp on an incline and I'd think, "Oh hell no. I'm RUNNING this." And I did. Mile 11 came and went. The closer I got, the more excited and happy I got. When I saw that 13 mile marker, I knew that I was ready to end it. I started to run as fast as I could, bobbing and weaving between the others at the end. I FLEW across the finish line, my arms in the air, a huge smile on my face.

I freaking did it.

So, the important question is: When can I do it again?

And a related question: When did I become a crazy person?

It's Wednesday...you know what time it is...

TIME FOR ME TO BORE YOU WITH MORE TALES OF TRAINING. I mean, really, it's all my life is these days. Well, that, and spending time with my precious baby niece. My life is pretty terrific. No complaints.

I'd had a rough time of it the last time I attempted to run more than five miles. Since then, I have had numerous pep talks from lots of runners who reminded me that I need to stop beating myself up, that every run isn't going to be perfect, and really, what matters is getting my miles in.

So, Saturday morning, P.I.C. and I set out for our long run. Nine miles. CARA runners be damned. Those of us in Chicago are very aware that it's been HOT lately. 90 degrees plus. That is HOT. I knew that my body would have to get used to the heat. So I said..."Know what? You're going to take a little walk break after each mile, have a couple of sips, and regroup." And so I did. My walks were very brief in the beginning and probably over a minute toward the end. BUT I DID IT. Even better? I felt pretty great doing it. It was SLOW. VERY slow. I'm not going to be that upset about it.

Face it, I ran NINE miles on Saturday. Most people didn't do that. So, my attitude has been checked, my body has healed from its ailments, and I am slowly building the confidence and endurance to run 13.1.

I can do it. Right?

Training Update...it IS Wednesday.

So, I got a cold. One of those annoying, nasty summer colds that gets in the way of having fun. I actually stayed home from work for an ACTUAL sick day in which I watched streaming documentaries on netflix, drank tea, and blew my nose. It was awesome, except for the whole surplus of mucus. Blech.

I suspect part of the problem was that my body was just exhausted. I did the ten mile race, which was farther than I ever ran in my entire life, then just hopped right back on the training wagon without any sort of appreciable break. That's why my eight miles were so tough. That's why I STILL can't run three miles without having to stop to blow my nose.

GETTING PAST THAT, THOUGH. I'm back on the horse. I'm taking it one day at a time. My goal for the half-marathon is only to run the whole damn thing, aside from walking for my water break. (Hat's off to those of you that can sip while running, but I'm just not that coordinated.) I don't care about my time so much. I just want to run the whole damn thing. And I will. Thank you so much for those of you that have dropped a kind word my way toward my struggles. Honestly, this might be the most tough physical thing I have ever put my body through over a period of time (not including the Panamanian Volcano Climb of 2010) so encouragement goes a very long way.

P.I.C. and I have decided to take our long runs separately now. He has decided he wants to run the half-marathon faster than me. I get it. He is faster, has already run one, and I tend to be surly at times. Lots of times I don't even want to run with me. Clearly, this is going to be one where I am going to have to look within for strength to finish. Therefore that starts this weekend. Nine miles solo. Eeeeeeps.

I'll do it. I will be surly. It won't be fun. But I will do it. That's all that matters.

HAPPY SUMMER, GUYS!

Worst. Run. Ever.

You guys, never have I felt so demoralized. Not even at mile eight of the Soldier Field Ten Mile race at which point I told P.I.C. rather rudely to shove his supportive comments and to refrain from speaking to me have I felt THIS bad.

Of course, having survived the ten mile race, I waiting a few days then signed up for a half marathon. Normal, right? (I guess that depends on your definition of normal.) I jumped right into training, knowing that eight weeks isn't that long to get where I want to be for an even longer race. On Saturday, I was supposed to run eight miles. I have run eight miles before without having to take walk breaks. I did the stupid ten mile race without walk breaks. Sadly, on Saturday, my attitude took a turn for the worse.

When we woke up, I just didn't feel well. My stomach was bothering me, and I just felt a little off. We left according to plan and started our run. After nearly three and a half miles, I told P.I.C. to go on ahead. I was going to turn around and do seven miles instead of eight. I walked for a short period of time, then turned around at the next mile marker. Only I couldn't hardly run. It wasn't my knees. Those felt good. My hamstring felt fine. My damn stomach just hurt a little. I was having trouble breathing. So I would run for a bit, then have to walk. Only when I got to the "have to walk" part, I would start bawling. I'm sure that was REALLY helpful for the whole troubled breathing thing. It was just a disaster.

P.I.C. caught up to me at the end  of his eight miles at while point I broke down. I started crying, feeling like an utter failure.

HOW DO I FIX MY ATTITUDE, WORLD?

I definitely need an adjustment.

Sigh. I guess seven miles, even part walking, is better than no miles, right?

EXCITING NEWS.

I am an aunt!!!! My beautiful niece was born on Tuesday. I found out early Tuesday morning that my sister-in-law was labor. Having a rather busy two days ahead of me, I knew I had to go to the office. But...it was torture. Needless to say, we rushed home from work on Tuesday and went right to the hospital.

She is perfect. Never have I loved something so small so much (well, except for Oxford, of course). Seeing my brother with his child is amazing. He is a natural. The love he has on his face is just...indescribable. My time with my niece was short, and I am counting the hours until I can see her again. (27...)

That is my happiest news for right now. I mean, I can tell you that I ran 10 miles on Saturday without stopping. But really, I just want to gush about BABY. Sorry.

Also, I signed up to run the Chicago Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon. Clearly, I've gone crazy.

This post has no structure and no theme. I'm not sorry for that. I AM A FREAKING AUNT!!!!

Training check-in.

I just couldn't check in with you all about my training yesterday due to the pellet gun incident. Shortly after that, the neighboring building's car alarm started going off. When I looked out the window, the "gentleman" across the alley started hollering at me about that.

"HEY. HEY YOU."

"Um, yeah?"

"THIS IS RIDICULOUS, I AM GOING TO CALL 311."

"Um, okay. Not my car. I don't care."

"IT IS DRIVING US ALL CRAZY."

"OKAY SO CALL, GEEZ. I DON'T CARE."

"NO DISRESPECT, BUT I AM CALLING."

"FINE."

Seriously.

In any event, despite shenanigans in my alley, I have been keeping with my training. I ran my final two miles this morning before work rather anxiously because the next time I run, I'll be putting down ten. TEN FREAKING MILES.

Pray for me, guys. I have trained my tush off. I feel like I should be able to do this. I'm still scared.

Running Recap.

You like how I changed up the title? I sure do.

So, did I tell you how my prize for running the Shamrock Shuffle was to buy myself a fancy new pair of running shoes? Well, I did. Turns out, since March 28, I have put 66.9 miles on these new shoes since. That's a lot right? To put it in perspective, my last pair of running shoes, purchased in fall of 2009, just hit 330 miles in March of 2012. So yeah, I've been running a lot more.

I'm also learning that running can cause certain...stomach problems. An extensive google search has assured me that I am not alone in this issue, despite being horribly embarrassed about it. (HEY. Let's tell everyone about it in the blog. That's discreet.) Furthermore, those stomach issues allow me to reach personal record paces in running home. Heh. I'm working on it. I would appreciate any tried and true tips from more experienced runners though. Cutting back on dairy and fibrous food items seems to be my first attempt to calm things down.

This weekend? I run far. Seven miles. I might die. If I do, remember me as that girl that once ran FIFTEEN MILES IN ONE WEEK.

I probably won't die. I probably will be reduced to tears by the end. But I will do it. Standby.

Training. Ugh.

Some days are great like before work last week when I ran four miles at a pace that rivaled my best 5K without feeling like death. Some days are not so great. Two days after that fantastic four mile jaunt, I did three miles at a snail's pace, feeling pretty crappy. Some days are brutal.

Saturday morning, P.I.C. and I were up for six miles. This is the farthest I have ever run. Rather than trace a path through our 'hood, we elected to drive a bit east and run on the lakefront. Unfortunately, the weather was not cooperating. It was about 45 degrees. It was spitting out rain. It was just plain nasty. BUT NO WORRIES. We were going to run it.

We started out fine, but then got caught up in a ten mile race. We ran three, then turned around and ran back to where we had parked the car. We were IN the race, running with people at a pace that would have caused me pain for half my distance. (My strategy is to try to improve my speed on my shorter runs and basically not DIE on the longer distances.) We got out of the race and were on our final 1.25 miles. The wind was blowing directly into our bodies. I felt like I was putting one foot in front of the other and getting nowhere. I felt like I was going to puke. I nearly was hyperventilating. I started gasping for air, nearly crying out in frustration. WHY OH WHY did I think I could train for and run ten miles? I AM A TERRIBLE RUNNER. THIS IS THE WORST IDEA I EVER HAD.

P.I.C. calmly told me that we were almost done, that I could do it. So I sucked it up. It was hard. I felt terrible. It was slow. I am now terrified that I will never get past this point. But I logged the damn miles. That's what it's all about, right? Thank goodness this week is a shorter week. If I had to go out and do seven on Saturday, I don't know what I would do. Well, I'd run it. I would probably cry. I would probably hate it, but I'd do it.

Besides, we really know I'm in this for the fatty brunch afterwards, right? RIGHT?

Training: S*@t's about to get serious.

Hi guys. My obstructed internet access is really cutting into my ability to REGALE you all with stories of my running. Don't be sad. I'm right here. I'm gonna tell you about how my training schedule stopped being polite and got real.

1. Tomorrow I run 5 miles. NBD, right? Well, I have run almost five miles once. But see, I have to do that on race day. TWICE.
2. Five weeks til d-day. That means I have to run tomorrow run twice. SCURRRRY.
3. I ran four miles before work on Tuesday. I feel like I should've gotten my eggs AND some damn french toast. Alas, I just ate my eggs.
4. I have seriously started looking at the training for a half marathon. WHO AM I, AND WHAT HAVE I DONE WITH MY LAZY SELF?

Seriously, what the hell. What freaks me out the most? I'm kinda super excited about the whole thing.

Eeeeeeeep.

Wednesday update...on Thursday.

I used to enjoy the occasional writing break at work. It was a nice outlet in a world sorely lacking in creativity. Sadly, my work has reinforced its internet regulations. It no longer finds blogger an acceptable website that I may log onto at work. (It also blocks various restaurants for the reason "Restaurants and Dining" which does not make sense to me, but whatever.)

I realized this morning that I have not updated you on my training this week. Honestly, it's not been a great week for me. It's our "step-back" week which means we aren't running as many miles, but we've also had a couple later than usual evenings which impedes our ability to get up and get the gym out of the way in the morning.

So...I guess I'm just writing this to hold myself accountable? These ten miles are not going to come easily. I will suck it up and run my two miles after work tonight, throw in an extra workout tomorrow, get my run done this weekend, then move forward. I can do this. Right? Right.

Wednesday Weekly Check-in...again.

I forgot, I am training. Ya know, for the ten mile race I slightly drunkenly agreed to run. Remember last time when I updated my training progress on Wednesdays? I have decided to keep on doing just that. I feel by posting here, I at least make myself accountable. I certainly do not want to post one week and be all..."oh yeah...I wimped out." NOT ON MY WATCH.

After the Shuffle, I took one day off and started on week two of the training program. Thanks, Hal, for making your programs relatively easy to follow! (Especially for former non-runners like me!) It was manageable and I felt pretty good given that I was in decent shape following my last race.

Even better? This time, P.I.C. is joining me for all the fun activity. Honestly, I feel slightly burnt out right now. Having him there motivating me to get out there and run really helps. We are only on three miles this week (well, four this Saturday), but I'm struggling. Last night, I did NOT want to get out there and run. P.I.C. forced the issue. I'm so glad I went. I did realize one thing, however. I HAVE to do my runs in the morning during the week. I am simply just too tired and lethargic to run after work. Furthermore, the risk of me skipping workouts at night is HUGE. If I just get up and go, I have tricked my body into just letting it happen. So back to the morning workouts.

Additionally, I will take any words of wisdom from more experienced runners/athletes/trained people. This is by far the farthest distance I will attempt to run, and I am more than a little bit terrified.

Help me get to be a little bit faster. Pretty please? Oh, and for me to not die in my attempt to run ten miles. Thank you.

Until I can get myself faster, I guess logging the miles slowly will have to do. I feel like I was crazy signing up for this race. Let's try to prove that feeling wrong, shall we?

Wednesday check-in!

Another Wednesday, another week of check marks on my training schedule. (I had to print it out. There is something so very satisfying about checking things off, right?)

This week, I have started to feel my motivation waning. I am really, really tired. I don't want to get out of our warm and cozy bed in the morning to go watch the OCD guy on the treadmill next to me take fifteen minutes to wipe down his machine (including the belt) with his own towel after he has sweat out about twelve pounds of water weight. (I know people bitch about gym etiquette, but I just don't know what to say about this guy. He's so bizarre.) I don't want to have to be faced with the realization that I cannot watch Teen Mom 2 that early, that I have to watch either the news or infomercials (seriously, does anyone NOT buy the Proactiv after watching a few of those commercials?).

I ran 3.1 miles without stopping on Sunday for the first time since October. I felt damn proud of myself. Sadly, on Monday, I let my laziness get the best of me. I spent much of the day in the car after placing a long-overdue visit to a dear friend and her beautiful new baby and was exhausted when I got home. Plus, I felt a little baby crazy after seeing her tiny little hands and perfectly-shaped head. (Seriously, she's precious.) I just didn't want to work out.

Yesterday, I sucked it up. I did both Tuesday's workout (2.5 miles) and the strength training I skipped on Monday. This morning, I got up and did my workout too. I wasn't happy. But I did it. I'm rather proud of myself. P.I.C. has taken to commenting on my newer slimmer figure. (This could be an actual observation, or it could be that he finally got it that I need that external validation on a daily basis. Either way, smooth move, P.I.C.)

I'm scared, this weekend I have to run 3.5 miles. I will attempt to do it without stopping. This is something I have never done. Keep your fingers crossed, people!

A running update!

So I had all of these goals, and one of them was to report in on my training. Ooooops. I forgot last week. Sue me. Just kidding. Don't, please. I have already been sued once and it kinda sucked.

ANYHOW. Let's talk about the important stuff. My training.

Honestly? It's going really well. I'm sticking pretty close to Hal Higdon's novice training plan, which is relatively manageable to me. I miss a day here and there, but have been pretty good about picking it back up. I make up for my missed day with extra cross training one day, or else I swap out my running for a day when I have more time. Face it, Sunday's couch plus PJs party would have lost something if I had gone to run and then showered. No way. I made up for it on Monday.

I actually have impressed myself with my tenacity. I tend to give up with a lot of things. Most "diets" I have attempted in the past don't last because I enjoy a cheeseburger on occasion. (Or white bread. DO NOT make me give up a loaf of crusty white bread. I do not eat it every day, or even often, but damn, I love it.) My fairly recent life changes (since December of last year) have been so good for me.

Exercise is a priority. This training program keeps me on task, but I still feel less me when I don't get my workout. I don't work out for hours on end. That's no fun. I get in and get out (that's what he said?) and then move on with my day. Even when we were out of town. I ran on the beach in St. Thomas. (OK, only once, but we got busy with wedding stuff.) I got up early on the morning of my brother's wedding to get my cross training done. (I had to swim short laps in the tiny pool due to a wholly insufficient hotel gym.) It wasn't a pain to do these things, they are just a part of who I am now. I really, really like it.

This morning, I tried on a pair of nice work pants I had bought probably two years ago. I have never been able to wear them. I zipped them up. They buttoned. THEY FREAKING FIT. So exciting. I have no idea what I weigh now (my bargain gym seems to have lost its scale), but I know I'm down something.

Wanna know the best part? I ate McDonald's on Sunday (hangover cure, naturally). A McDouble? Oh yes. The difference? I have already run over five miles this week.

I WIN. So far, so good. I will attempt to do a better job at reporting progress, I promise.

Big goals this year.

Alright, I have a confession to make. I DID make resolutions for the new year. I wrote them down on a yellow sheet from my legal pad and put them in my desk drawer at work. Every day I remind myself of them.

One of those goals is to run an 8K and a 10K. I have done many 5Ks. Truth be told, they aren't easy for me. Running has gotten easier, but those 5Ks still get me. In any event, for the upcoming 8K, I have decided to train. I want to do it well. I want to improve my speed. I don't fool myself into thinking that I am going to ever be a fast runner. But ya know what? I will improve because I need to keep challenging myself. NO LAZY ATTITUDES HERE. (That's actually hilarious to me because I am really quite lazy. Well, maybe not as much as I used to be. But still. Quite lazy.)

Last night I started my training for the Shamrock Shuffle. Yeah, yeah, it's a crowded race, it snows half the time, blah blah blah. I have heard all of this. I, however, am one of those people that needs goals. I need an endpoint to motivate myself.

I guess I feel the need to write about it to keep myself accountable. Here is my plan: each week I shall post once about my "training." Hold me accountable. Let me know if you're training too! We can motivate each other.

'Til then, see you on the roads. (Or the treadmill. This is winter in Chicago, after all, despite recent warm temperatures.)

My very first 5K.

For most of my life, I was not a runner. No. That doesn't put it strongly enough. I hated running. HATED it. I remember having to run around the track in P.E. class and feeling as though I was being put through torture. "Run the straights, walk the curve." Those instructions still entailed too much running for my adolescent body. That's not to say I didn't get physical activity. I was on the cheerleading/dance team and we practiced for two hours at least four times per week. We worked it. Trust me. But running? NEVER. No way.

Even when my friends played soccer or track in the off-season and encouraged me to join one of those teams, I wasn't having any of it. Seriously, do you see how much soccer players run? Not for me. And track? That was all running. Again, not my thing. I could jump, dance, lift, and twirl. But run? Nope.

So when I started running a few years ago, it was a novel thing. I had been attempting to run a bit in the spring, but when a certain bad relationship officially ended, I put my energy into running. Granted, at that time, I was running for a minute, walking for two, then eventually running for one minute and walking for a minute. My running coach? A very good friend and coworker. He was a friend that was willing to watch me break into tears as I attempted to run that last minute and felt I couldn't. He was a friend that encouraged me when I thought I couldn't go any further.

We were gearing up for an annual fundraising race in which our firm participated. I wanted to run it. I needed to run it. I am not sure if I was proving something to myself, or just that I wanted to not be seen as unathletic by my other coworkers (let's face it, I wasn't then, and I'm not really now), but I wanted to run this 5K. So I got a running buddy. I would take the el to his house on lovely Saturdays and Sundays for our "training." Slowly, but surely, we would run together. Eventually, I could run three minutes at a time. I was so proud.

When it came time for the race, I was ready. Granted, I knew I wasn't going to run the entire thing non-stop. But I had my watch set to go on intermittent timing. I was going to do it. My very first 5K.

Of course, I was very slow. I ran alone, well, me and my pink running watch and hundreds of other huffing and puffing legal professionals. I ran for SEVEN minutes without stopping at the beginning, then resumed my pattern of running for 3:30, walking for a minute, for the rest of the race. When it came time for the last couple hundred meters, I was feeling victorious. I knew I was almost done. Then I saw him. My coworker jumped back into the course, a big smile on his face. Of course, he'd already finished, but he wanted to be there for me as I finished my very first race. I crossed the finish line with a HUGE smile on my face, feeling as though I had accomplished something rather big. For me, it was an accomplishment. The non-runner just ran a race.

Now? I can run an entire 5K with no walk breaks. I try to do that several times a year. I'm not hardly any faster, but the feeling I get when I cross the finish line? It is always exhileration. It took me three years to get here. And that coworker? Well, in thirty-seven days, I will marry him. Turns out he was the best running buddy a girl I could have ever wanted.

Who wants me to go viral with MY running plan? Move over Hal Higdon.

Running in the snow

"...I was ruuuuunnnning in the SNOOOOOW..." Y'know, like singing in the rain? Get it???

Whatever. I thought I was being rather clever.

With vacation looming, I have abandoned all ideas of dropping poundage before we leave. There just isn't enough time and I would rather not live the next week on carrots and hard boiled eggs. Don't get me wrong, I like both of those things, but when I limit my diet to minimal carbs and low-calories, my usual mega-bitch lurking below comes out with a vengeance. While others might be amused by my angry and ranting blog postings, much of the time I write those when I really feel crappy about the world. So, in conclusion, I'm going to have my wine, eat my carbs, and have some chocolate. RIGHT BEFORE VACATION. Deal with it. Only P.I.C. has to deal with seeing me in my swim suit, so who cares, right?

All that being said, my concern runs to this hike on which P.I.C. and I will be embarking. Honestly, I just want to avoid keeling over on the side of the volcano. I am not the most regular exerciser. That is not to say that I don't enjoy it. Well, truthfully, I don't. I do know that I feel better when I have been working out regularly. I sleep better, I have more energy. You know, all that crap they tell you to get you to join a gym? It's actually pretty true about exercise. Rather than beating myself up for continually failing to get up early enough to hit the gym before work, I decided I was going to just FIT IT IN SOMETIME TODAY. So today, I fit in a quick run. Outside. In the snow.

My legs? They are very upset with me.

Legs: "Um, really? You're gonna run for a week then NOT run for two weeks and just expect us to be happy about it? We are NOT OK with that. For the rest of today, we will be achy. That achiness will likely feel like someone is ramming a fist into your hamstring tomorrow. ENJOY."

Me: "SHUT UP LEGS. I'm preparing you for the volcano. Stop being little bitches."

(Doesn't everyone talk to their body parts?)

So I bundled up with my two sweatshirts on, my hat and P.I.C.'s shuffle (he makes the best running mixes) and set off for a little run. Sadly, a song and a half later, the shuffle died. It was just me and my thoughts for the duration. It was actually very nice. The snow was the powdery sort. Big flakes, yes, but they merely floated through the air lazily, as if to say, "Welcome to December, Chicago." Thankfully, it wasn't sticking around otherwise I would have feared for my own safety. Not only have I not run in two weeks, but I also seem to have a problem with tripping and falling. I am a klutz.

So me and my thoughts? We were just fine. I didn't fall down. I ran without walk breaks. I did NOT sing. Remember, the shuffle died? I absolutely CANNOT sing without my back-up music. Now, aside from my legs being jerks, I feel pretty good.

BRING ON THE VOLCANO!