You CAN Run a Marathon on Little or No Training!

Title credit: Lisa F.  (subtitle "True story, Bro")

Ah.  Grandma's Marathon.  I signed up in a fit of athletic stupidity last year.  I started training, then got a new job, and well....stopped training. 

Ok, I didn't STOP stop, I just...stopped except for long runs.  Except when I didn't feel like it.  Then I didn't do long runs either. 

I did do a 15 miler!  Sort of.  I got water belly at mile 10, so I didn't actually "run" 15 miles.  I walked/ran the last 5 miles.  Pretty much only because my car was 5 miles away.  I know.  I'm a total badass.

In June I raced 2 10ks and did a Ragnar!  And that was all.  Seriously.  Aside from one commute run I didn't run a step in June that wasn't a race.  Maybe that will become my new training philosophy: I run for t-shirts.  I will ONLY run if I'm going to get cheered at and handed a tshirt and a medal at the end.  Sounds fair.

So I ran a marathon on Saturday.  The weather was shitty.  Seriously shitty.  It rained on Thursday and was so foggy that Duluth was invisible on the hill.  Friday? Rain and invisible Duluth.  Saturday? Invisible everything.

We ate and drank beer on Thursday.  Friday we went to the aquarium and to a movie (Star Trek: Into Darkness.  See it.  Zachary Quinto is hot.), then ate and drank.  Saturday we ran.

It was so foggy that Lake Superior was invisible.  I could hear it, but couldn't see it.  The runners around me vanished in the fog rolling off the water, then reappeared only to vanish again.  It was like a bad zombie movie (especially at the back of the pack). 

My strategy was simple:  Don't breathe hard.  Keep it easy and just go as long as you can.  I felt pretty fucking phenomenal until mile 10, and even then I felt pretty good.  One bad thing?  I lost close to 20 minutes overall to port-a-john breaks.  10 of them at mile 5.  Can you say gastric emergency?  I can.  Still, aside from answering nature's call more frequently than seemed normal, I kept moving. 

This race was different than my first (failed) marathon and my do-over.  I was in a good place mentally.  I told my husband "My only goal is to finish upright and smiling" and I achieved it.  In spite of the rain, the gut busting, the fog, and my complete training fail, I felt strong at the end.  What helped?  Finding a friend in the fog!  The completely awesome Lisa F. from my 2012 Ragnar Chicago van was on the course.  She and I leap-frogged a couple of times at the port-a-johns and I thought I'd lost sight of her for good when her neon self appeared ahead of me in the shifting fog.  I picked up my pace to catch her and fell in for the last 3ish miles.  She said her hip was hurting, and I was just lonely, so we finished the last few miles together.  When the rain started I was especially glad to have a friend as that would have pretty much taken the wind out of my sails.  Instead I got to finish happy in 5:49:11.  Upright and smiling.  That's me.

Afterwards I rewarded myself with a small snack

Don't judge me.

 

 

Then a nap and a big steak dinner.  I was off to dreamland before 10pm.  Because I am old.  With all this "I'll only run if you give me a medal" I may need a new medal hanger soon.

This one will look great in my living room.

 

 

There were several awesome things about this weekend:

 

1.  Being there when my husband finished his first marathon in 5:11:01

2. Spending time with two of my best friends that I hardly ever get to see

3. Seeing my friend's husband achieve his goal of completing a marathon after rehabbing an injury

4. Seeing (and getting to finish with!) one of my Panty Raiders

5. Finishing my 2nd marathon

 

The weather was shit, but the weekend was good.  I'm done marathoning until I hit 40, though.  There just isn't time for that kind of training in my life right now.  This is the summer of CrossFit, and I'm excited to get started again. 

 

Whew.  Two blog posts in one day.  I'm exhausted.

 



 

 



Oops, I Ragnared Again...

Anyone who has ever read this blog (all 12 of you) knows that I developed a serious Ragnar sickness last year.  I've managed to reign it in a bit, but I still jumped at the chance to sign up for the inaugural Ragnar Niagara Ontario.  I even captained the team.  Team American Bacon.

 

And I meant business, bitches.

 

 

I threw out a Facebook message and tagged everyone I've ever met that has ever run a mile and got 8 "YESSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!" responses almost immediately.  It was awesome.  So I registered us and we found some awesome friends of friends who would become new friends (sickening, right?) and we were set!  Here is the super kick ass part: Absolutely every single solitary person PAID ME BACK!  From what I hear that is vanishingly rare in the Ragnarverse.  I was very, very happy.

 

No Ragnar is without its hiccups.  Pretty much every one I've ever run has had something go awry.  From family emergencies to transportation difficulties to multiple runners dropping out with days to go before a race, it happens to every team.  This Ragnar hit a snag when the fabulous(ly stupid) people at Enterprise realized they ordered a fleet of vans for the wrong weekend then called all the teams a week beforehand to notify us.  Fortunately we had the vans from 2 different companies, and we were able to scramble together a Yukon XL for the missing van.  Unfortunately, one team member had to drop out the day before the race for a family emergency.  We sent out mass emails and texts, but ended up running one runner down. 

 

Still, 11 runners is a pretty good crew.  Especially when one of them is some kind of robot superhero who volunteers to run doubles AND hula hoops "to keep my hips loose."

 

Super Susan!

 

 

Once we had the runner situation squared away (and our travel woes behind us-damn thunderstorms), we were off to Canada in our supersize vehicles.  Driving a huge white van across the border was a trifle nerve wracking.

 



I pictured "the man" as somewhat more ominous.

 

I'm fairly certain the guy that checked out passports was Archie Bunker.  He also didn't appreciate my attempts at humor.  Whatever.  At least he didn't notice the birthdate on my passport is wrong.

 

We drove through driving rain and shitastic traffic to a town called Port Hope where we bunked for the night.  We found a decent restaurant to have dinner at just a couple of miles from the hotel, and were all happily snoozing by around 10pm.  I was the lone Van 2-er in a room full of Van 1-ers that had to be ready for a 7am start.  I didn't mind.  I'm pretty much incapable of sleeping past 6am.  I was dressed and ready to cheer the team at the starting arch.

 

 

Since this was an inaugural race, there were only about 120 teams.  The starting area was sparse, but there was plenty of parking, and everyone was in great spirits.  The weather was perfect, and we were ready to haul ass around Lake Ontario!  But first?  Breakfast.

 





Ain't no way I'm passing up bacon.

 

 

Then we hightailed it to Exchange 6.  Again, much more lightly inhabited than past Ragnars I've done, but that was not at all a bad thing.

 

Van 2.  Emily, Jen, Megan, Jess, Me, and Brett

 

Oh.  One more thing about Exchange 6:

 

Only slightly photoshopped.

 

 

Motherfucking elephant rides.  Now before you go all animal rights, this elephant is named Limba and she is a rescue that is unable to reside with other elephants because of the way she was raised.  The zoo in Bowmanville takes good care of her, and her human trainers are her surrogate family.  The money charged for riding her pays for her food and care.  She was adorable, and very, very gentle. 

 

So we ran.  And we ran some more.  And it was hot.  HOT, I say! Not Chicago 2012 hot, but hot.  Still, the scenery was beautiful, and we handed off to Van 1 at Exchange 12 then headed in to Toronto for some food and rest.  Only we didn't really rest.  First, we ate pork products and sampled a Canadian favorite: Poutine.

 

Yeah.  This did nothing for me at all. 

 

 

French fries with gravy and cheese curds.  No.  Just....no.

 

We took a little driving tour of Toronto and then went up the CN tower (the tallest building in North America!) and took in the sunset over Toronto and the lake.  The view was amazeballs.

 

oooooooooo.  aaaaaaaaaaaaah.

 

While we were taking in the sights, Tim was dodging cruisers (I'm not talking about motorcycles, people) on a dark beach trail and Charli was getting scared out of her wits by her husband who found us on the trail and surprised her (is that cute or what?).  We made for exchange 18 and prepped Megan for her first ever midnight run.  She was lit up like a Christmas tree and armed with mace.  We honestly thought she was going to mace random runners.  "How many kills did you get?"  "ALL OF THEM!!!! I KILLED ALL OF THEM!!!"  She was also carrying a tiny teddy bear that seemed to give her confidence.  Whatever works for you...

 

We had been warned and warned and warned again to "Respect the Residents" in a particularly swank area of the western Toronto suburbs.  There were fucking road signs that the race peeps put up all over the course to remind us.  Imagine our surprise when one of the residents mugged a runner.  Tried to steal her $5 headphones.  Fortunately, there were a crapload of cops all over (you know, to manage us rowdy runners) and the incident was dealt with swiftly.  Still, having been the victim of violent crime in the past, I ran my dark leg like I was being chased.  2.4 miles, 22:57.  As a result, I had to wait at exchange 24...my runner was still in the port-a-john.  No one expected me that soon!

 

After the handoff, we went to exchange 30 and took advantage of some indoor sleeping.  It was nice of the church to open their doors for us, but I could've done without the piped in Jesus music.  It was another gorgeous day and we took the handoff from Van 1 for our final legs.  Everyone was running on a mission.  In spite of the heat they all did great.  Emily was a frakking machine on a sunny leg through a vinyard.  We barely had enough time to stop for fresh roadside strawberries.  Tragic, right?

 

When I took the hand off for my final leg (just shy of 8 miles, pretty much all uphill) I warned my team not to look for me for at least 90 minutes...probably longer.  Turns out that was pretty accurate.  I ran, and walked, and took pictures.

 

Water stop.  That's a Buddhist temple.

 

In spite of my snail like pace, I scored 2 kills on my final leg.  As we came into the finish, I was feeling pretty damn good.

 

 

There are some advantages to being the captain.  Finishing is one of them.  Especially when this is the view from the finish:

 

 

Now, the fact that the finish line was up a flight of stairs was a bit of a bummer at that point, but that view makes up for a lot.  Also there was beer at the top.  I fucking love beer.

 

The whole team gathered for a shot at the end:

Charlie, Annette, Emily, Jess, Jen, Me, Megan, Brett, Marc, Tim, and Susan

Team American Bacon!

 

 

That night we ate an obscene amount of Greek food and watched hockey while we drank.  It was a big lovefest with both vans.  The very best of Ragnar.

 

The next day we said good-bye to several team members early (after slamming a couple of bottles of wine that we couldn't carry on the plane). Then some of us went hunting for tshirts, etc for the smalls in our lives.  Niagara Falls themselves are visually stunning.  The town of Niagara Falls?  Visually sickening.  To quote Brett "It's like the Wisconsin Dells and Reno had a bastard child."  So what did we do? Played Dinosaur Putt Putt golf, of course.

 

Because nothing says "Niagara Falls" like plastic dinosaurs.

 

 

This was a great team.  We had a great time.  I would Ragnar with any one of these people again in a heartbeat.  The course was beautiful and the race was extremely well organized (especially considering its inaugural staus!!).  Staff was always available, and the atmosphere was really positive.

 

This year's medal style was a little different than last year.  So were the tech shirts.  I liked them both.  Charlie was fond of the medal.

 

Who needs a medal hanger when you can hang them on kids?

 

Of course we were already discussing our next adventure by the time we got to the airport.  Lake Tahoe trail Ragnar 2014.  Can't wait.

 

 























90 Days of Awesome

My life is about to get fucking ridiculous.

Next week? Travel to NC for the wedding of my BIL with kids in tow.  The idea of flying with a 5 year old and a pair of 3 year olds makes me twitch, but that's what we're going to do.  Because the idea of driving 20 hours one way in a car with said children makes me want to hang myself.

I know Lily is a good flyer.  She's been to Phoenix and back with me on two occaisions and was a champ both times.  So good that the people around us had no idea there was a child with me.  Quiet, mouse like.  That's her.  A couple of books, a new coloring book, and a box of crayons (plus snacks) and she's a busy bee.  The twin three year olds will be a challenge. They are loud. They are rambunctious. They are 3 year old boys.  I am going to be spending the next week sacrificing farm animals and hoping that neither of them inherited their father's tendency toward motion sickness.

Oh yeah.  My husband gets airsick.  Yay. 

So we'll pack some barf bags and hope for the best.  Luckily we won't have to check luggage as my SIL will be taking our stuff and our carseats with her in their RV (praise cheeses).  When we arrive we'll be hanging out for two days and then heading back.  Lightning fast vacay. 

And I have to get a 20 miler on Friday.  Yikes.

Once we're back, its Memorial Day weekend which encompasses our 7th wedding anniversary.  Then the month of June which is going to be crazy.  I have two 10Ks a Ragnar and a marathon in June.  That's right.  A race every weekend.  I was clearly high in January when I signed up for all this stuff.  Not that it isn't all fun, awesome stuff...but holy fuckballs.  Busy busy busy.

Once the marathon is over I'm going to spend exactly one week recovering and then (drumroll)

SUMMER RUNNING HIATUS BEGINS!!!

I never took a hiatus last year, and frankly I am buuuuuuurrrrrrrnnnnnneeeeddddd out.  It's not that I don't get any pleasure from running, but I am so sick of training I could scream.  I'm not doing a good job of preparing for this marathon, but I just can't get my motivation up to do better.  When Grandma's is over, I'm done until the fall (or maybe the winter).  I've been neglecting Crossfit and I need to get back on it.  So that's what I'm going to do!

The 90 Days of Awesome refer to a 90 day challenge.  Basically to lose fat (NOT WEIGHT) and optimize my body composition.  I'll be sticking to my Paleo lifestyle with a couple of added nutritional boosts (greens smoothies, which I've never tried before!) and a return to whole food fundamentals.  I've been slipping with Paleo the last couple of weeks and I can feel the difference.  So I signed up for this challenge, got a virtual buddy, and I'm poised to take my physical fitness to the next level.  Just in time to turn 36.  I want to move serious weight by summer's end, and by that I mean weight loaded on a barbell.  At this point I could give a rat's ass about the number on the scale.  I'm approaching my 1 year Crossfit anniversary and though I've made enormous strides in strength and mobility, there are things I could do so much better if I got to the box more often and really concentrated on nourishing my body. 

So there you have it.  I'm settling into my dayjob routine and I'm ready to refocus on fitness.  I have specific goals: 
1. Master double unders
2. Deadlift 200lbs (current best is 155)
3. Clean 125lbs (current best is 100)
4. 20 in box jumps without feeling like I'm going to die.  I wanna be BOUNCY, dammit!
5. Unassisted pull-up.  Even if it's just one or two.  I want this.

Whew.  Public accountability, yo.

********

Wisconsin half marathon recap:

I was woefully, terribly, hideously undertrained.  2:30:20.  I felt mostly fine, did good with the hills, then locked up at bit at mile 11.  I was on pace for around 2:20...then...not.

Honestly, this was a fun race.  I got to hang with some internet buddies and make a couple of new friends.  The course was weird but fun, the scenery was great, the weather was great, and the post race beer was interesting.  I would absolutely do this one again...even if the cheese in the finisher's snack bag was from VERMONT.  (Seriously, WTF?)

Still, I recommend it!

Run On.

I will never qualify for Boston.  Well, if I can keep my current pace until I'm 85 I'll qualify.  So basically I will never qualify for Boston.  That didn't stop me from watching the live internet feed on the edge of my seat while first Caballero, then Felix, and finally Jeptoo came to the front.  I couldn't believe how fast, how light they were.  I kept growling "Come on, Shalane, come on!" as she bounced just behind the top three.  I wondered where Kara was in relation to the lead pack.  I watched a Canadian named Watson bound to the front of the men's race, only to be swallowed by the Kenyan pack.  Hartman looking like he was going to be dropped, then surging back into the front runners.  It was breath taking.  Inspiring.  I felt like I KNEW those runners, like we were old friends.

I had friends and friends of friends running Boston yesterday.  Friends who were there staffing and volunteering.  I worried about them, and I'm glad they're all okay. 

In a way, all runners are friends.  We line up together, nervous, checking out watches, wondering if our breakfast will stay down, anxious to START ALREADY.  We pep talk people who are lagging, and tell total strangers we believe in them, are proud of them, and that they can do it.  Spectators line up and shout and shout and clap and scream for people they've never seen before and will never see again.  Volunteers hand out water, get sloshed full of Gatorade, and sweep up a billion paper cups while still offering words of encouragement. Police and EMS guard intersections, block traffic, wait for a call that someone is in trouble.  Doctors and PTs and massage therapists help people limping accross finish lines get their battle wounds bound up and set them right. 

Yesterday our community was attacked when Boston was attacked.  I don't know who did it, but I hope whoever it was will be found and made to pay for what they did.  There is no way to truly protect against this kind of thing.  Running is the only sport that competes on city streets.  You can't secure every inch of a 26.2 mile course.  That's crazy.  Race officials do the best they can.  There will no doubt be talk of cancelling large, big city marathons.  That's crazy, too.  Runners are crazy.  We would never stand for that.

We have to keep running.  Remembering those people who were killed, those who were hurt.  Remembering all those who helped when the time came, who ran toward the blast and not away from it. Keeping a closer eye on our surroundings, perhaps, and as always looking out for each other.

I won't be praying for Boston, because I do not pray.  But I will run with Boston in my heart.  And next year? I'll be watching the live feed again as another 25,000 people take the streets on Marathon Monday. 

Sugar Detox Week 1: Smooth Sailing

So I'm seven days into the detox.  It's going well.  No cheating, and aside from a three day headache at the beginning (my own fault for getting positively drunk on sugar the week prior), no side effects.

After 7 days of detoxing I have dropped 5 pounds of water and my abs are back.  Such as they are.  I am also sleeping better, which is a bonus.

Detoxing can be a double edged sword when you're distance/weight training.  I can honestly say that my CrossFit abilities seem to be heightened when I'm off sugar, though that is not the norm.  I attribute that to the increased protein consumption.  I eat a lot of protein normally (hell, I eat a lot of everything normally), but when fruit is removed from the snacking realm I find myself going for jerky and boiled eggs along with some serious veg.  My protein and fiber intake skyrockets, which translates to good stuff in the gym.  From a running perspective, the reduced carbs end up meaning less gas in the tank.  For short runs and speed work this is a non-issue.  For long runs?  Trouble.

I'm going to be experimenting with a different fuel source on tomorrow's 11 miler.

I give you the Larabar.

 

Larabar.  They rock.  They are Paleo (many varieties are).  They are not strictly sugar detox approved, because the base is made from dates.  Here's the thing-I have to violate the detox to run long.  The last couple of long runs I've used ShotBlocks the way I did in the past.  This was not a good idea.  Two words:  Gastric Emergency   I'm going to give the Larabar a shot as distance fuel.  They have around 25g of sugars per bar, so I see no reason it wouldn't work.  The texture is pretty soft and at least as easy to chew as ShotBlocks, but not as sickeningly sweet.

 

 

I've also been experimenting with new snacks.

Kale chips.  Like garlic popcorn with iron.

 

 

These things are pretty damn good.  Easy to make (slice the stalks away from the leaves, tear into chip size pieces, lightly toss with olive oil until toasted, bake on foil or parchement at 350 for 12-15 min or until crips) and easy to eat.  They are very filling.  I understand that kale is a memeber of the same family as garlic, so baking them brings out the garlic flavor.  I hate steamed kale, it is bitter as fuck, but these are completely different.

 

So week one went well.  Weeks 2 and 3 are always harder for me, though.  It's when the novelty wears off, the weight loss slows down, and you just want to eat Cadbury eggs.  I'll get through it, though.  I have before.  One thing that might help a bit is some Paleo bread I got today at Woodman's.  It's not like "real" bread, but it makes a dandy fried egg sandwich.  Something I have been missing deeply lately.

With bacon.  Duh.

 

 

Today at CrossFit we were doing Open WOD 13.4.  It was a ladder: 95# clean and jerk then Toes to Bar 3/3-6/6-9/9 etc.  My personal best clean before today was 85# and my best push press was 90#.  I was scared shitless of this workout.  I can do toes to bar.  I can.  I've been doing a crapload of situps since the first of the year, and my core can handle that movement now.  Problem was, I had to hit not one, not two, but THREE 95# clean/jerk before doing toes to bar.  Let's just say I spent the 7 min WOD bitterly failing at the clean portion of the clean and jerk with owner/coach Grant shouting me through it and two fellow members trying to psychicly help me up out of the squat hole.  It didn't work.  Big fat goose egg for the WOD.  However, Grant wanted me to try again after the WOD...so I did.  I failed the jerk, but I hit a 95# clean I thought was 90# and then a 100# clean I thought was 95#.  Because I can't do math.  So I walked out having failed at the WOD...but with a 15# clean PR.

 

Also?  I totally cried at CrossFit.  Because I am lame as fuck.

 

Last month I got some ink.

Yes, that is my bathroom.

 

It's symbolic.  My children's names are represented with the symbols for their saints.  On the inside of my bicep there is a wound that bleeds tears and the date 1/22/09-the day I lost what would have been our second child.  On my back is the phrase "No one else will ever understand the strength of my love for you.  Only you have heard my heartbeat from the indside."

 

I need to get musculature worthy of this tattoo. 

 

 

And finally, my little baby boys are three.  Hard to believe.  They are loud and fearless and infuriating.  Here they are at Sir Bounce A Lot with the most fun ride.  The water fountain.

 

 

 

You should try a sugar detox, even if you're already Paleo.  It's a fantastic kick start.  It's also a giant eye-opener for the hidden sugars in fucking everything.  Give it a go-even if you only make it a week.

 

 

Until next time...









Something's Got To Give

Man.  Where to start?  I haven't blogged in a million years, and it's not for lack of activities to write about.  Mostly it's because I feel out of sorts.  In fact, I don't really know how to make this flow, so why don't I just break it into parts?

Work.

I changed jobs.  I'm now a home infusion pharmacist.  The job is different enough to be interesting, but not so different as to be disorienting.  I'm starting to get the hang of it, which is good, because I've been flying fucking solo for almost 2 weeks now.  The techs I work with are fucking rock stars, which is great because I would be really screwed if they sucked. I worked with a lot of great techs at my old job, don't get me wrong, but because these two are the ONLY two? They know their jobs backwards and forwards and they can produce.  My pharmacist partner is a complete 180 from my previous work partner.  For starters he and I are the same age.  I don't meet many testosto-pharmys my age.  We are mostly of the gyno variety.  He's vain, controlling, and requires constant validation.  That said?  Clearly a great pharmacist, and super fun to work with.  As with many of my relationships, I am the dude in this one.  I used to work with his wife, who is a saint for living with him, even though the selfish bitch had the nerve to crap out a kid thereby leaving me alone in the office with a whopping 5 weeks of experience under my elasitc drawstring waist.  (Love you, Bets!)  What's really killing me is this 5 days a week garbage.

Running.

I am totally half assing my marathon training.  I switched to a Run Less, Run Faster program for the 3 days a week of it all.  I'm definitely doing the "Run Less" part.  As with my last attempt at this program, I have yet to do a tempo run.  I am forced because of my schedule to do the bulk of my running on the treadmill and it is killing me.  My new treader is the bomb, don't get me wrong.  It is state of the art freaking awesome, but I HATE that I am forced to run on it almost exclusively.  Not being able to run outside makes me die a little inside.  Not getting a 5 days a week dose of sunlight in the winter months? Is making me depressed and irritable.  I didn't realize until I couldn't do it just how much of a lift outdoor winter training gave me.  I love winter training, and I've hardly done any.  That makes me sad.  I keep telling myself that )now that there are more daylight hours) running in the evening is a viable option.  Once it gets warmer I'll go out in the pre-dawn light again for runs, but with all this shitty snow then ice then dry then ice then snow we've had around here?  I can't catch a break.  Last weekend we ran the inagural Two Rivers 10-mile.  It was great.  Freezing cold and sunny, then a little snow.  I finished in 1:48:15 and felt really great.  Then I got stuck treadmill running all week.  And now I feel run down.  The treadmill is making me not want to run, and that is not okay.

Crossfit.

I am totally half assing Crossfit.  I signed up for the Open, which has been motivating, but man do I suck at things I should be better at by now.  I need to go in more than twice a week to keep improving, but I just can't get there that often AND fail at marathon training.  I need to fail at one thing at a time, I guess.  The last Open WOD I did?  12 min AMRAP of wall balls, double unders, and muscle ups.  Now, I can wall ball...but this was with a 14lb ball.  I've never used a 14lb ball.  Why?  Because I'm a damn chicken.  I did 85 wall balls before time ran out.  That is pathetic, and my quads are still spasming on the stairs after that.  Thank god for my year long challenge or I never would've been able to do all those squats.    I'm going to finish the Open and take ownership of my half-assery.  When this marathon is done (June 22!!), I am taking the running hiatus I never took last year and I'm going to make Crossfit a priority.  It makes me better, and when I'm making the effort, it makes me feel strong.  It makes me love myself, because I understand what a beautiful machine my body is.  It also drops my mile splits without speed work.  Can't argue with that.

Stress.

I am shit at handling stress.  Well, that's not true.  I've always been really, really good at handling stress.  I can work through anything, accomplish anything, and look like I'm doing fine (aside from some serious cursing).  All I have to do is get fat.  Yep.  I eat my feelings in the form of shitty carbs and I get fat.  I compulsively stuff myself with garbage as a coping mechanism.  It works, on the surface.  Then I eat a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream and feel like I'm going to fucking die.  For real.  My guts rose up against me, and when I woke up the next morning?  Let's just say I would've felt better if I'd gotten drunk.  I made it through this round of self medication without too much damage to my waistline, but only because...

Sugar.

I am detoxing again, starting today.  I have been off the Paleo wagon for about 12 days and I feel like shiiiiiiiiit.  That ends now.  Why do I keep going back into habits that make me feel so awful?  That's got to be some kind of self-loathing.  I mean, I'm like a goddamn drug addict with this shit.  It's scary.  I already feel better, honestly.  If the last two rounds repeat themselves I'll be down about 8lbs of water and sorrow by Saturday.  Damage (see Stress.) negated.  Straight and narrow rediscovered.

So there you have it.  I just laid all my shit out on the table.  I have been totally half-assing my life.  That has to stop.  I'm a grown-ass woman with responsibilities, true, but I have to do the things I love.  I have to take care of myself or I'll be stuck in this sneaky hate spiral forever. 

I'm planning to blog my detox this time around.  I promise there will be pictures instead of a series of fucked-up dissertations.

Do you every half-ass your life?  Come on, make me feel like I'm not alone :)

It's Nice to be Noticed

Did you notice I was gone?  I thought not.

Where has Amy been, you might wonder.  What has she been up to, you might ask.  I'm going to lay money you haven't wondered or asked, but you might.

Well, I was Crossfitting and not running.  Then I was sort of, well, eating all the things.  Then I was running and not Crossfitting.  Now I'm getting ready to do both.  It's time to get serious about health and fitness up in here. 

In the meantime, I've been dealing with these two goobers.  The wrapped box on the table?  Contained a drum set.  A drum set. Because our friends hate us.

And apparently so does Blogger, because I can't upload the photo.

I also knitted 2 sweaters. (Again, no photos because Blogger is stupid.)

And gave myself a manicure.

Oh.  And I got a new job.

What was wrong with the old job, you might ask?  Absolutely nothing, at the moment.  In fact, I've been at said job for 5 years and have often credited it with saving my sanity after jumping ship at Giant-corpo-I-hate-my-life-and-every-person-around-me-shoot-me-now pharmacy (aka Walgreens).  I heart my job so hard that it felt a little wrong to look for a new position.  But... (there's always a but), the powers that be have decided to restructure the department...and I really, really don't want to do the restructured job.  So I applied for an opening in another division of the company.  And I got it.  Yay me.

The reaction to my departure was not what I expected.  My boss did the hands-on-head exhale "This is going to be a huge blow to the department" thing.  He was super supportive, but clearly not happy I was going.  It feels a little good to know the boss-man will miss you.  My co-workers were all "How can you leave us!?!?" which made me feel alternately pretty guilty and kind of good that they feel like I make a difference.  I even got a couple of hugs, which was odd, because I'm not a touchy-feely type at all.   But even that made me feel a little warm and fuzzy.

My future partner wants me to start pronto, but I still have 2 weeks at my old position before I transition to the new one.  It's nice to be wanted.  I'm excited to start, but I'm sure it will be bittersweet.  As long as there is copious coffee and a place to store my cream, I'll get through the first week.  The new job is a 9-5, and I'm not accustomed to being lucid before noon!

In the midst of all this, Crossfit fell by the wayside.  I had kind of a cold, kind of a desire to run, and kind of a lack of motivation.  It's been a couple weeks since I was at the box, and I got an email from Grant on Tuesday.  It read "Do you hate me?" to which I responded "Yes."  His answer?  "That warms my heart.  Get your ass to the gym."

He noticed I was gone.  Awwwww.

So now, It's time to buckle down and get at it.  I've been mostly adherent to a Paleo diet the last three weeks after my December sugar detox (which went so well that I almost had abs at the end of it-almost).  I have my training plan mapped out for Grandma's marathon and the following Chicago marathon.  I have my spring races pretty much planned out and registered for.  I went out for a 5 miler today and finished in under 50 minutes in spite of the brutual wind (I wasn't wearing a watch-I walked in the door a little less than 50 min after leaving home), which felt good. 

I got 100lbs of bumper plates for Christmas from the hubs (how awesome is he?!?) so I've been doing some presses and weighted sit ups.  I need to get my bar downstairs and start working on my cleans, is what I need to do.  The light of my life and I have also embarked on a 1 year squat/sit-up/push-up challenge.  It's progressive, starting with 1 of each on 1/1 and ending with 365 of each on 12/31.  It probably won't start to suck until the end of March.  Then it's going to suck balls until the end of the year.  That said, if I don't have well defined arms, a six pack, and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of after all that?  I am clearly meant to be fluffy and will revert to eating my weight in cheesecake every Saturday night. 

So.  2013.  Here's what I've got so far.
March
Point Bock
Two Rivers 10-mile
April
Trailblazer half (possibly tied to Amy Z from Running is Cheaper than Therapy ?)
Oshkosh half (I always say I'm going to do this one...it's on a day my calendar says "20")
May
Wisconsin half (with the Panty Raiders!  Woo! Falon, Kim, Rachel, Linda, Amy G, the aforementioned Amy Z, Kim N, Lisa, Jamie, Jen, Marcia (who's links I can't make work))
June
Hog Wild 10k
The Bellin Run
Ragnar Ontario
Grandma's Marathon

It's going to be a good spring.  Bring it on.