tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39433628233703776902024-03-12T23:24:58.937-05:00YoRunnerMy chronicles of life as the everyday anti-supermom and average back-of-the-pack runner.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-912577758992544512015-07-26T11:34:00.002-05:002015-07-26T11:39:37.585-05:00If I'd Known Then What I Know NowThanks to a phone call from a dear friend asking for help with our local running group, I have stepped back into the role as a volunteer coach for the new running season. Prior to the call, I had no races on my calendar and no real plans to do anything significant this season. Because of another friend's wedding scheduled for race day, I won't be able to attend the Houston marathon at all. Nevertheless, since I will now be following a half marathon training schedule for the next few months, I might as well sign up for a few races so the effort doesn't go to waste. My thoughts keep drifting back to the season of my very first marathon many moons ago. The drive to get over that first finish line was nearly overshadowed by the extreme anxiety I felt. If I could go back in time and give advice to my rookie runner self, there is a lot of wisdom I would share with her to help her get over the hump. Frankly, I'd tell her just to get over herself.<br />
<br />
<i>Dear "Rookie" Akilah,</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Good for you for signing up for your first marathon. Just don't beat everyone over the head with it, especially your now-boyfriend/future-husband. Yeah it's a big deal in your world, but you are not the first human to ever run 26.2 miles. Be careful not to get all pissy with him when your carefully planned schedule gets off track. Don't turn into a complete douche by yelling at him when your race performance turns sour. Keep in mind he will be your biggest fan and support system for just about everything you attempt in your future running years, no matter how bad it gets. Even after you guys get married and have kids, keep running. There will be two younger sets of eyes watching and looking up to you every time you bring home a finishers medal. They will never know how slow you run or how ugly you look at the finish line. They will only know that you set a big goal and followed through.</i><br />
<br />
<i>If you are going to commit to the physical training, partner it with a healthy diet. You have a youthful trim figure now, but your sugar intake is going to blow up one day and you'll wonder where your waistline went. That fit figure will fade into oblivion quicker than '80s shoulder pads if you don't watch it. Give up the junk food in favor of some veggie goodness and you might actually achieve that finish time you are aiming for. You won't bonk out at mile 20, trying to make a deal with God to carry your pitiful self over the final 6.2 miles of agony. </i><i>Oh yeah, and those Friday night margaritas with the girls do not count as carb loading no matter how scientifically you break down the ingredients. The only reason you are getting away with it now is because youth is on your side. It won't last. Once you hit 30 and then 40, those margarita and wine treats will beat you over the head like a bulldozer and make your Saturday morning runs feel like a death march under a hot wet blanket. Cut back on them now so you can stop the bad habit before it grows.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>When you show up to group runs, don't be afraid to unplug by leaving the headphones and music at home. Actually talk to the other homo sapiens around you. You'll show up alone, but will make some pretty cool friends before you leave. You'll have plenty of opportunities to run solo and be to yourself, but the group runs are meant to be social. Don't worry how you measure up to the "real" runners with their Boston qualifying goals. There will be just as many regular folks that just want a running buddy and will care less about how green you are and fast you are not. The running community you are so intimidated by is large enough for all kinds and you'll fit right in. Travel to races in new locations and soak up the change of scenery. Invest in good running shoes, regular massages, and lots of sleep. Stick with the strength training once or twice a week and get your lazy tail to the track for some speed work regularly. Track workouts suck and you will never ever learn to like them, but they will give the biggest payoff of anything else you'll incorporate into your workout routine.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Lastly, remember you are not a quitter. You will fall, you will get injured and you'll even finish dead last. But not giving up and always following through on a goal will become your proudest accomplishment. You will lose count of your races and maybe gain a bunion or two. You'll have surgeries and set backs, but you will also have some great stories to share with newbies one day. This marathon thing that your family is already labeling as a passing phase will become a part of you that will get you excited at the start of every season, eager to begin another journey of countless miles on foot. Race morning will always feel magical and crossing the finish line will always feel equally miraculous. Twenty years from now, you will still be an active runner looking for the next shiny new racing adventure. You won't have the same anxiety you feel now, but you will never lose the pull of chasing a PR goal. Just keep running, moving forward and you'll surely figure it all out along the way.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>Signed,</i><br />
<i>Your Older, Wiser (Chubbier) Self</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Jr5iXSonrYY/VbUNKhBrjNI/AAAAAAAALo4/A6KEpjrqovM/s1600/IMAG0363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Jr5iXSonrYY/VbUNKhBrjNI/AAAAAAAALo4/A6KEpjrqovM/s320/IMAG0363.jpg" width="181" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WQS8ZaZiFMU/VbUNKn30ENI/AAAAAAAALo4/xGrvyNrMy7w/s1600/20150116_160620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WQS8ZaZiFMU/VbUNKn30ENI/AAAAAAAALo4/xGrvyNrMy7w/s320/20150116_160620.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TQtiirgSTOk/VbUNKpMjj7I/AAAAAAAALo4/ErGuQeBymjg/s1600/20150118_123004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TQtiirgSTOk/VbUNKpMjj7I/AAAAAAAALo4/ErGuQeBymjg/s320/20150118_123004.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-57637993893243618892015-07-18T16:25:00.002-05:002015-07-19T22:12:24.897-05:00An Exercise In ControlIn all our years together, my husband has lectured, preached and bored me with endless tips about healthy eating. He's had health issues since childhood, so I guess this was always his way to tackle the problem the best way he could. He gets this ridiculous high from eating right and working out regularly. He is freakin' annoying! However, for the first time, he said something that actually stuck with me. It goes with the whole concept that weight loss is 80% diet and 20% workout. Yes, we've heard this before. But he went on to say that even if you don't have time to dedicate to your workouts, you are still in control of your diet. You have complete <i>control</i> over everything that goes into your mouth. No one can force you to eat crappy food. You <i>control</i> the choice of what to eat every time you sit down for a meal. <br />
<br />
That one word, "control", resonated with me above and beyond everything I've ever learned about health and fitness. Over the last couple of years, I had lost control of my eating and desperately wanted it back. To do that, I had to face my dietary vices head on. One by one, I needed a plan to regain control. Here they are listed below and how I have been dealing with them for now:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><b><u>Starbucks:</u></b> My occasional Starbucks treat turned into a daily routine. I never ordered just regular brewed coffee either. My pallet craved flavors like cinnamon dolce and white mocha. Even when I held back on the whip cream and substituted soy or almond milk, I still ended up with a 300+ calorie drink, swimming in 50 grams of sugar before I touched any ounce of real food for the day. To fix this, I either have regular brewed coffee or the skinny versions of my fave Starbucks treats once a week.</li>
<li><b><u>Energy:</u></b> I wholeheartedly recommend for anyone that is going through their own slump to find a natural energy booster. For me, that is baby spinach. Within a day of adding this food into the rotation, I get my mojo back and have enough energy to maintain my early morning workout routine.</li>
<li><b><u>Snacking:</u></b> My weak time of the day is late afternoon, which begins at work and continues even after I arrive at home. Salty snacks are what I normally reach for, which includes things like popcorn or tortilla chips with guacamole. These snacks aren't 100% horrible, but they are if I eat half the bag in one sitting. Now, I plan ahead to have 2 cups of air popped popcorn with a little sea salt and it gives me the fix I need.</li>
<li><u><b>Breakfast:</b></u> It has always been my favorite meal of the day, but I wouldn't actually eat it until a good three hours after my morning workout. No doubt, this probably brought my metabolic caloric burn to screeching halt. Add on top of that, the first thing in my mouth was a sugary Starbucks drink and you can begin to see how the pounds packed on. I used to blame not having enough time in the mornings, but that was bull and I knew it. Now I simply knock back a protein shake right after working out, and it buys me a little time until I can sit down for some oatmeal a little later.</li>
<li><b><u>Protein:</u></b> I have been happily content as a vegetarian for years. However, I admit that I needed to make some changes if wanted to step up my protein content. Drinking more protein shakes and increasing my bean product intake just wasn't enough to keep me interested. So, the happy vegetarian has added fish into the diet and she hasn't died yet. No, I am still not all that interested in chicken, beef or pork. Trust me when I say that I've tried, but they just don't do it for me. Oh well.</li>
<li><b><u>Meal Prepping:</u></b> I've done the meal prep thing in various ways many times before. I would buy all my favorite healthy foods and pack my cooler the night before work. However, I never put much effort into planning an entire week in advance. Now I am going that extra step and packing each meal into its own container, so I have a full week of meals stocked in my refrigerator. It has made all the difference in the world in keeping me from reaching for other processed convenience foods.</li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p41wzoTqtJo/VarAlsv4umI/AAAAAAAALhU/eVUwoJVkiwA/s1600/20150711_103801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p41wzoTqtJo/VarAlsv4umI/AAAAAAAALhU/eVUwoJVkiwA/s320/20150711_103801.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
None of these changes are earth shattering and you surely have heard of them countless times from other weight loss stories. It just happens to be the combination of things that are working for me at the moment. In the past month, I have lost a modest 6 pounds. It is no biggie because I have lost and gained the same 5 or 6 pounds before, only to have one margarita too many and gain it right back. I don't have the usual feelings of anxiety about getting the weight off this time. Reminding myself that I am fully in control of the process has made all the difference. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Don't tell my hubby that I actually listened to him this time. All the running, all the kickboxing and all the yoga in the world will do absolutely nothing for my body if I don't fuel it properly. I am living proof of this. In spite of the fact that have a consistent workout routine, I have still managed to eat my way back up to what I weighed when I was 9 months pregnant with each of my boys. But I won't be here for long. Being back in control of my diet is an addictive feeling that I won't let go of any time soon. Looks like being a control freak finally turned into something positive this time. My hubby might agree with the control freak part of that statement.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-11848272487630473302015-06-17T17:21:00.000-05:002015-06-17T17:21:01.365-05:00The Money ManYou've heard already how much I gush over my kids. They are respectful, get good grades and are overall decent human beings. Even if they weren't all those things, I would still love them terribly. However, it doesn't stop me from wanting to throat-punch my oldest son on occasion. Too harsh? Then let me set the stage for this story and you might be inclined to agree. He starts <a href="http://yorunner.blogspot.com/2015/05/some-kids-but-not-my-kid.html" target="_blank">middle school next year</a>, which is completely uncharted territory for this family. I am scared sh*tless of all the new things he will be faced with that I probably haven't sufficiently prepared him for. My hubby and I are used to being in the loop on just about everything he does, but even we recognize that his interests and awareness are quickly slipping beyond our reach. In addition to this, his preteen attitude is about to get him booted from this house quicker than a carton of spoiled milk on a hot summer day. I'm kidding of course (not really!).<br />
<br />
Surely you are familiar with our scenario. You work hard to provide your kids with everything they need and want, because it is your way of showing how much you care about them. You don't want your kid to go without, because maybe you came from a less fortunate background and vowed your kid would never have to go without anything like you did as a child. After a few years of providing a plentiful and loving environment for your kid, you realize you have actually created a monster. The plan backfires and they develop a sense of entitlement, because you have not only given them everything they wanted, but you failed to make them understand the value of any of it. They don't know or care that you had to work for it or even show up on your sick days for it. They don't care that you had to skip buying that cool thing for yourself, so you could buy an even cooler thing for them. They just know whatever they want magically appears without any energy or effort spent on their behalf.<br />
<br />
This is my situation right now. My oldest son is a rich kid, or so he <i>thinks</i> he is a rich kid. In his mind, he can get his clothes from any high end store and can order from any side of the restaurant menu, just because he is his wonderful self. Money is no object and he deserves whatever he wants because he got a good report card. <i>*Sigh!*</i> True, he did get a great report card, but that can be his get-out-of-jail calling card only a limited number of times. We still have a lot of work to do on his attitude, his smart mouth and the fact that he is waaaay more mature than most of his school friends. "They are so immature, mom!", he says over and over again.<br />
<br />
As a result, we decided to give him a project. He and my youngest son have been sharing a room their entire existence. They are so close in age that it has never been a problem until this year. Big boy's rapid decent into his preteen years has made this year more challenging and my baby boy has been left in the dust. There is a mere 18-month difference in their ages, but it feels more like 18 years these days. Add in the fact that their interests are at opposite ends of the spectrum and you get a situation where these once very close siblings fight like dogs and bigger dogs. So now, big boy is about to get his own room. Our guest bedroom furniture will now become his and our former "music room" will become his domain. <br />
<br />
But in true "rich kid" fashion, just having his own room is not good enough. He has to go all <i>HGTV</i> on us and ask that he be allowed to decorate it, too. Once we told him he was getting his own room, he started barking out all the changes he wants to make....new paint, new linens, new rugs, etc. My first reaction was to give him a "Hell NO!", but I thought twice about it. Instead, I turned it into a learning opportunity. He will be allowed to decorate his room with anything he wants as long as he earns the money to buy it for himself. Last summer, both boys started cutting the yards of a few neighbors and their grandparents to earn a little extra cash. It was an okay experiment, but I don't know if they really learned anything from the experience. They had no real goals and no real pay off in the end. It was just something to do to relieve the summer boredom. <br />
<br />
With the number of yards they plan to cut this summer and the amount of money they anticipate earning, we had big boy create a budget. He will use this money to purchase items for his new bedroom. He will have a grand total of around $200. He was pumped when he came to this total, confirming in his mind that he was indeed "rich". I gave him the task of making a list of items he wanted to buy and allowing him to go to any online store to price the items on his wish list. He went to Pottery Barn, Pier One and other similarly priced stores. I noticed his enthusiasm shift a little as he quickly realized that $200 wasn't going to carry his shopping adventure very far. I was tempted to swoop in and save him, by telling him I would help him if he didn't have enough money. But I didn't. I resisted. I left him alone for a few hours and waited. I was beating myself up for the bad parent I was. When he resurfaced, he had created a new shopping list with items from Walmart and Target. His spirit was quite broken, too. You hate to see that light in your kid's eyes dim. Your first reaction is to jump in and make it better. You want to give them a big hug, tell them everything will be okay and that you will handle it for them. AND...knowing my kid, he probably expected me to do this.<br />
<br />
However, I was the one with the <i>a-ha</i> moment this time. I remembered that this was the whole point of the project. He was supposed to learn the value of a dollar and I was supposed to shut up and let it happen. I was supposed to step back and let him deal with whatever was to become of his hard earned money and let him live with the consequences. I reluctantly took him to Target and watched silently as he priced items with his shopping list and calculator in hand. Twice now, we have walked out of the store empty handed, because his taste out-priced his budget. I am sure other parents have done similar things with their kids, but this is my first time in this arena. I have no clue if he will learn anything from it or not. He is after all, my first born. Everything that happens to him is our first time experiencing it as parents. With him, it is constant on the job training. If this experiment works, then I will pat myself on the back long enough to brace for the next high anxiety teachable moment to happen. He may emerge from this without a single scratch, but I will learn how to step out of the way and let him experience more ups and downs for himself. He won't always need a superhero to fly in and save the day, but he will need my love and support. Lucky for him, that will forever be available at no charge.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-6429461496860735412015-05-28T22:17:00.000-05:002015-05-28T22:32:15.238-05:00Some Kids, But Not My KidMy oldest kid is really scaring me. What is he doing that is so scary, you ask? He is growing up, a little, but growing up nevertheless. We have reached the glorious pre-teen years, but he is every bit of moody as a full blown teenager. With every passing day, a small piece of his little boy innocence falls away. His smart mouth and sarcasm are growing issues to be dealt with, but I know that is as much my fault as it is his. He is one full inch taller than me and doesn't want to hang around me as much as he used to. Nowadays, his cell phone holds all his attention and he remains engrossed in it far more than I would like. But he is a good kid. If his round-the-clock texting and selfie photography are the worst things I have to deal with, then I should be grateful.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It is because he is an overall good kid that I was forced to keep a promise to him. We made a deal that if his grades stayed up and the conduct stayed pretty good, then he could create a profile on the social media platform of his choice. Are you rolling your eyes yet and wondering what is the big deal? The big deal is that although I am a fan of social media, I never allowed my kid to use it up to this point. I simply didn't think he was mature enough to handle it responsibly. I check his text messages and his downloaded apps most days. I also check the search and browsing history on his computer. I also check how often he clears his browsing history. Too much? I think not. Call me old fashioned, but my son had to "suffer" not having an online profile while his friends had a little more freedom to roam around online. I had my reasons for taking this stance, though it might surprise you how I got to this point.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A few years ago I actually used to do some consulting work, guiding school districts on ways to deal with the growing problems of cyberbullying and internet safety. I enjoyed the work immensely, but the demand died down over time and I walked away with some great life lessons. One of those lessons being that is okay to be the uncool parent that doesn't let their kid follow every trend. <i>Some</i>times, they really are too young to do <i>some</i> things, even if <i>some</i> friends still get to do those <i>some </i>things anyway. See what I did there? <i>Some </i>kids might be ready for that type of exposure, but my kids were not. So I exercised my parental power of "no" until I felt he was ready. That doesn't mean he didn't try to slip a few things by me. There were a few covert attempts to create secret accounts without my knowledge. However, those efforts were shut down pretty well, thanks to a strong network of friends, teachers and other parents doing as much snooping as I was.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
However, over the last few months, we have tested his level of responsibility and maturity. He has indeed kept up his grades, with an upcoming all "A" report card as proof. His reward of his choosing was to finally have an Instagram account. I figured he should go ahead and activate the account now so he can share the news with his classmates before they separate for summer vacation. He was happy, and I would like to believe it was partially because he was able to successfully work towards a goal and see it realized. Maybe not, but he is my kid and a mom can hope. Right?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We set up his profile together and made sure the privacy settings were in place. When he questioned the need for being so strict with the privacy settings, I gave him a thorough lesson on the ugliness involved with having any online existence. We talked about everything from cyberbullying to cyberstalking and child predators that cruise online sites looking for impressionable young kids to connect with. Slowly I saw the excitement of having his first account dwindle to confusion, and then fear. While sharing all my reasons for parental paranoia, this conversation further stripped away his remaining childhood innocence that I was trying to protect. Now I feel like a dope for doing this to him. Maybe it was me that wasn't ready and I got a little overly zealous in justifying my reasons for holding him back a little. By unloading my fears onto him, I didn't make him more knowledgeable and competent. I just forced him to grow up even more than I wanted him to in the first place. It's all down hill from here. We start middle school next year and I am definitely not remotely ready for that. Heaven only knows what other adventures await us there. If you find me hyperventilating while curled up in a corner any time soon, you will know why. Just pass me a paper bag to breathe into and wish us luck.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-9202358830776893322015-04-26T10:52:00.001-05:002015-04-26T11:13:51.752-05:00DichotomyAs this very moment, there is a baked tilapia fillet and fresh baby spinach waiting to be my lunch. However, my mind is fantasizing about a steamy soy white mocha and all its frothy sweet goodness. I live in this constant dichotomy of what I <i>should </i>do and what I'm <i>actually</i> doing. With every move and every meal, I know exactly what I'm supposed to do. I'm not one of those hopeless individuals that needs guidance on what foods to eat to achieve a slim, well-nourished body. I know exactly what types of workouts to do in order to gain lean muscle tone and more endurance. I also know how to set the alarm clock to make it to the gym in the wee hours of the morning before the crowds arrive, so I can get my workout done before any excuses have time to formulate. But that's the "athlete" side of me. That's the super chic that enjoys being in motion and breathing in the fresh air of an early morning run. That's the girl that doesn't care what the workout is, as long she breaks a sweat everyday. <br />
<br />
But that girl has been so quiet lately, it's like she went on a long vacation and decided to never come home. She has been replaced by the "homebody" side of me. That's the girl that finds much joy in curling up on the couch in her pj's all day, doing mindless snacking and binge watching DVR'd shows for hours. She indulges in what I call "broad spectrum" eating. Yeah, that's my own made up term, thanks to the psych degree I don't have. This is when I eat something really salty or fried, which throws my taste buds out of whack and I have to balance it with a super sweet food after that. This is why an order of salty french fries is easily followed up with a chocolate milkshake, right? My taste buds swing back and forth on opposite ends of the junk food spectrum, trying to achieve balance. But the worst thing this "homebody" side of me tends to do is hide away, because the weight very quickly begins to pack onto her once active body, and she is ashamed.<br />
<br />
I went on a short 3 mile run/walk this morning by myself. I could have called my dear running buds to keep me company, but I didn't. It has been some time since I ran on a regular schedule and I knew I would be too slow to keep up with them. Instead, I went solo to keep to myself what I knew would be a less than stellar attempt at a workout. I took a break from running after my last race a few months ago, to force myself to go back to the gym and concentrate on strength training. The experiment worked for about 3 weeks and then I allowed work fatigue and processed foods to overtake me once again. The bad foods suppress my appetite for the moment, but they contain so few nutrients that they leave me feeling more tired, which keeps me from working out, which causes the weight gain, which makes it harder to move my now heavier body. I have allowed my weight to creep up to it an all time high and it physically hurts to do some of things I used to love doing, like running.<br />
<br />
You might look at me and think "she doesn't look all <i>that</i> bad", because I hide a lot of it. I might not look "all <i>that </i>bad" for a normal person, but it is pretty bad considering I know better. It <i>is</i> bad considering I once coached and trained others to workout and lose weight, but I can't seem to do it myself. How's that for a sobering fact? I could write a damn book filled with all the knowledge I've gained regarding physical fitness and nutrition, but I haven't been able to put those smarts to work for myself in a long while. It makes me feel like a big ol' fraud. However, one thing my husband says about me is that I have a trait of always trying to pick myself back up and I've never been afraid to start over. He keeps reminding me that I got in the best shape of my life exactly twice...after the births of each of my boys. He feels I was the most dedicated and focused on my fitness after they were born, when I could have been an unorganized mess getting used to the new pressures of motherhood. I think he secretly just liked the larger size of boobs while I was nursing, but that's another story. <br />
<br />
My husband has long been my biggest supporter, but also my biggest critic. Hey, before you start to think of him as some pig of man that just wants a hot wife, I have to clarify that statement. You see, he never stops seeing me as that athletic super chic that treats herself better than I do right now. He talks to me about my workouts and nutrition the way a coach talks to their star athlete. We used to workout together, but I fell off the wagon, using work/kids/schedule as the rotating excuses. But now I miss it. I miss feeling good about my nutrition. I miss feeling accomplished at the end of a hard workout. So, here I go again, in an attempt to climb back up into the saddle and regain my focus. The time is going to pass whether I make the best use of it or not. A few months from now, I want to be able to look back and feel good about what I've done and be proud of the results those efforts have yielded for me. I want to finally be able to say I took my own advice, which is to shut down the excuses and just do it. Stop whining, get to work and let the athletic super chic take her rightful place in my psyche. It's easy to say the words, but lets see if I can actually live up to my own hype. <br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-75972350045358319202014-09-06T11:56:00.001-05:002014-09-06T12:02:07.098-05:00It Still MattersMy marathon training schedule is almost two months deep and it is not going well. I have struggled on more runs than I care to admit. The heat and humidity have been brutal and I feel constantly dehydrated no matter how much water I chug. My knees can't decide if they want to hurt or just give out altogether. My legs muscles twitch and spasm when they shouldn't. Not some, but all of my long runs have been really, really ugly. Although I have covered the distance, not one of them felt like much of an accomplishment. Today's long run was a 9-miler and finally, I had a breakthrough. <br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My girlfriend G and I started this long run like many others. My alarm clock went off at a profane hour and I fumbled around in the darkness, grabbing running gear and a dry English muffin before I headed out the door. We met earlier than the butt crack of dawn, with flickering lights pinned to our clothing so oncoming cars could see us in the darkness. Filled water bottles were strapped to our fuel belts and lubricant was strategically placed in all areas that might chafe and rub our skin raw. I was all set to chatter along with her and get caught up on the happenings in both our lives since the last time we got together to run. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
However, the well laid out plan fell apart. About 2 miles in, G was feeling pretty good and keeping a decent pace while I was already struggling. My breathing was labored and my running stance was getting awkward. I wasn't going to last 7 more miles unless I made some adjustments. I asked her go ahead without me, because I hate feeling like I'm slowing someone down when they are having a really good run. My run slowed to a walk and the feeling of defeat threatened to creep in. I was only 2 miles away from my car, so turning around at this point still would have given me a respectable 4 miles for the morning. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But who was I kidding? If I would have quit at that point, I would have beat myself up for the rest of the day for not following through and wasting the morning. No matter how badly I perceived the workout was going, it still mattered that I finish it. It still meant something that I complete the task, even if my external effort seemed less than spectacular. At that point, I didn't give in to excuses. I forgave myself for not being able to live up to my original expectations. I forgave myself for not being able to keep up with my friend. As I began to fall further and further behind the pack of our running group, I resisted the urge to feel left behind. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I came to the realization that I wasn't running a race against them. They were not the target I was trying to beat. I was running against the temptation to give up. I was racing against excuses swirling in my head about why I am not yet the athlete I should be. I was running past the point of no return, where I could forget I ever set this marathon goal in the first place. It still mattered that I follow through and finish this workout, because sometimes the bad runs get you better prepared than the good runs. Bad runs remind you of your strength and your willpower to push through. Bad runs keep you grounded, reminding you that workouts are supposed to be hard. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
All this psycho babble was in my head from miles 2-4, which was long enough for me to miss the chance to turn around and go home. As soon as I eased up on the self-doubt, I caught my proverbial second wind. I put on my head phones and turned on my easy country music playlist (don't judge!). The remaining 5 miles went by pleasantly and the negativity was forgotten. My pace sucked and my knees ached, but I finished the job. There was no medal waiting for me at the end because it was only a training run. But no one around me could have guessed the satisfaction I felt, knowing that this priceless moment of accomplishment almost didn't happen. Graceful or not, I did what needed to done and that feels better than a medal any day.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-79809915773045297892014-08-09T10:38:00.000-05:002014-08-09T10:38:37.236-05:00Chop Chop, AgainI have the weirdest love/hate relationship with my hair. First off, there is a lot of it. When I was a child, my mom would curse the days when she had to wash and detangle that moss because it would take a couple of hours to get it under control. It was waist-length most of my childhood and teen years and was always a chore to style on a daily basis. Being a short African American little girl with Texas-sized big hair down to the waist gave me a distinct look that I held on to until the end of my senior year of high school. Everyone says they wish they had thick wavy-curly hair, but no one ever tells you the truth about what it honestly takes to achieve a polished look with all the bush. When I got my first significant hair cut, the weight was lifted...literally. I swear I dropped five pounds when that mane was finally chopped off. <br />
<br />
Through my early adult years, I kept going shorter and shorter until I rested my style with a low maintenance pixie cut that I held on to, off and on, for a good 10 years. It worked with my active lifestyle of running and marathoning without making me look too matronly. When I decided to grow it out, I followed the trend of many black women and tried a "natural" style for the first year. No relaxers and no straightening. Once it made it to my shoulders, the natural look was more work than I wanted to admit. Of course, I have tried some alternate lengths, allowing it grow out to a bob and to shoulder length most recently. The various looks worked just fine, but the daily styling routine was for the birds. Because my hair is so thick, I resorted to the ever convenient wet ponytail most days after a workout rather than tackle my head with a blow dryer or flat iron. By the way, I always hated wearing a ponytail. What I hated even more was having to spend too much time making my head look presentable.<br />
<br />
However, now I have declared a return to all things that worked for me during my early fitness days. I have gone back to my old marathon training routine. I have gone back to the ritual of working out in the evenings and even brought my strength training back into the mix. Going back to my old hair style seemed fitting too. Yesterday I chopped off my bob-length tresses into a more updated pixie. I am not the same twenty-something year old anymore and probably couldn't rock the exact same cut I could years ago, so I opted for a look that would still be professional and much less hassle in the mornings. Luckily my husband has always been a good sport about my bipolar hair issues. When it is cut short, he compliments me. When it is long, he compliments me. If I ever go bald, I believe he would still have a kind word or two. The pictures of the big chop are posted below. The day it stops growing back, I guess I'll have something new to complain about.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5DofeUVXvzQ/U-Y_SWpRF4I/AAAAAAAAGyA/h7exxTFDunc/s1600/IMAG0241-MIX.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5DofeUVXvzQ/U-Y_SWpRF4I/AAAAAAAAGyA/h7exxTFDunc/s1600/IMAG0241-MIX.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-46303306494785501042014-07-20T15:35:00.002-05:002014-07-20T16:41:06.458-05:00That Magic HourThere used to be this one chic I liked. She wasn't a high-powered exec or a pampered celebrity. She was an overall nice person who could hold her own in most situations. She wasn't arrogant by any means, but she could recognize her strengths and weaknesses with healthy consideration. She knew how to accentuate her best assets with confidence. She kept a firm balance between work and play and never lost sight that they were equally important. She was probably someone you would have enjoyed knowing. I can say all this without hesitation because this chic was me. I used to be someone that always put herself first and allowed everything else to fall into place behind me. You think that is wrong? You think that being this selfish is a bad thing? I would argue against you. <br />
<br />
Back when I was single, all my daily decisions revolved around my needs and desires. I was mentally, physically and spiritually doing okay. When I got married, my goals included learning to compromise with a new life partner. When I became a mom, my very existence revolved around protecting and nurturing my two sons. It has been years since these men first came into my life and along the way I stopped looking after myself and made them my biggest priority. We are conditioned, not just as mothers but also as fathers, to put our families first in everything. Of course your family should be your major focus, but in my opinion, they should be your second priority. YOU should be your first. When you make taking care of yourself the first priority, you are stronger for the people you love the most when they need you most. How can you expect to support your kids and spouse if you are always broken down, tired and dragging yourself around? How can you encourage them to work towards their goals if you put your's on hold?<br />
<br />
I took so much of this for granted until my second son was born. As overweight and tired as I was after the C-section of this nearly 10-pound bundle, I forced myself to get back to running. My belly was jiggling and my boobs were swollen and sore in my too tight jog bra. My hips felt totally out of alignment with the rest of my body. I looked comical trying to do my shuffle-run-walk around the block in my neighborhood those first few weeks. My motivation to get out the door had very little to do with regaining my pre-pregnancy figure. Instead, it was my one and only time of the day when I could get back to being myself. Whether the run took 50, 30, or even as little as 15 minutes, it was time I relished because there were no demands or expectations placed upon me. I wasn't anyone's mommy or wife. I could literally run away from all of that temporarily. I could be alone with my thoughts and the quiet slip-slap of my soles hitting the pavement. Whenever I returned home to my two little boys, my head was clear, my thoughts were cleansed and my spirit was refreshed. I could be a good mother and partner that day. <br />
<br />
After the mild postpartum depression I felt after the birth of my oldest son, I believe my husband recognized these daily runs as something far more therapeutic than he originally assumed. The hour (or sometimes just minutes) I spent out running reintroduced me to that chic I used to be. My daily run was a type of nourishment I didn't realize I needed until I missed it. It was like a magic hour that pulled everything together for me, no matter how badly everything had fallen apart. My running time reminded me of the "me" I used to be when my needs came first. At first, I suffered a little because I thought the acceptable mommy model was to be a self-sacrificing martyr that we all imagined our own mothers once were. Admittedly, I have been guilty of this same self-destructive behavior lately. <br />
<br />
This time around, work demands and an overloaded schedule are to blame for my priorities being thrown off kilter. It hasn't taken me long to see what changes I needed to make to regain some balance. My boys are a little older now with their own social calendars and don't need me or my husband playing helicopter parents, hovering over them anymore. From all outward signs, they seem to be doing okay thankfully and barely notice our absence when we return from a quickie workout. I've noticed my daily schedule flows easier when I set aside that one magic hour of the day for myself. That hour can be used for a run, a massage, reading a book or whatever brings me back down to earth when other pressures try to pull me away. My own mother, well into her sixties now, is experiencing a similar rejuvenation. She recently started a daily walking routine after quitting smoking and surprisingly found herself enjoying it. She also joined a gym and who knows what will come next in her evolution. I guess mothers of ages in various stages can find themselves in need of this same medicine. I will take my medicine eagerly from now on. Its healing power is more far reaching than I'll ever try to question again.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-36930392866771329912014-06-23T17:34:00.003-05:002014-06-23T17:35:52.061-05:00Marathon MotivationIt's been a really long time since I made this kind of commitment. The last full marathon I ran was a few years back in Toronto. It was a great girls' weekend with some of my close buds, but the race itself kind of sucked. I finished poorly and swore that would be my last full marathon for a while. My energy was spent about three quarters of the way through the race and it didn't help that this Canadian race had the course marked in kilometers instead of miles. Since my GPS watch was out of whack, I spent the entire race wondering how far I was from the friggin' finish line. The more I tried not to think of the mileage, the more I obsessed over it. It was agonizing and all my best mind tricks didn't work. I'd made up my mind that Toronto would be my last full marathon for a while. <br />
<br />
Sure enough, it was indeed the last. Fast forward a few years and I have done nothing but half marathons over recent years. None of those half marathons were big accomplishments. As a matter of fact, my most recent race, which was the Woodlands half, was the piss poor worst I've ever done. I was seriously ready to quit about 2 miles into it. If the race route would have gone anywhere near where we were parked, I would have gleefully walked off the course and flopped my butt on the concrete until the rest of my crew finished. Trust me when I say I was far more concerned with looking for that parking spot than I was with following my race plan. My music player tanked, the temperatures were hot and humid and I had the constant urge to pee. This is only worth mentioning because normally when I sweat as much as I did in this race, I don't usually hold on to enough fluids to need a port-o-potty. However, as luck would have it, I would have to lose even more race time standing in line for an available spot to squat.<br />
<br />
My basic problem was that I had no goals. I signed up for those races without a clear plan to keep me focused and I crashed and burned royally. Granted, last season was interrupted by <a href="http://yorunner.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-comeback.html" target="_blank">foot surgery</a>, but I refuse to use that as an excuse. Okay sure, my foot is still stiff on random days but it is fully healed and doesn't hurt at all. My problems were more mental than physical, which is hard for me. Sometimes I can be my own worst enemy when it comes to training. I can rationalize and talk myself out of anything I really don't want to do. When I was rookie to this sport, I was annoyingly paranoid about following the rules and never deviating from the game plan. I followed the training schedule to the letter and felt guilty about missing a workout, because it would throw off my mileage for the week. I ate the same boring but nutritious lunch and dinner on Fridays in anticipation of my long runs on Saturday mornings. I stayed hydrated and went to bed early, after laying out my running gear as if I was prepping for a week-long trip. <br />
<br />
It was routine. It was boring. Guess what? It worked. Somewhere along the last several years, I became a super smart ass that believed, because I was a veteran marathoner, I could magically skip some of the grunt work involved in training and still show up on race day to perform well. I lost sight of the fact that in addition to <i>knowing</i> how to train, I still needed to actually <i>do</i> the training. I cannot tell you the last time I did hill work and just the thought of doing speed work makes me want to throw a world class tantrum. All of this down right laziness has brought my whining full circle and now I'm in search of results. Some unknown force has caused me to get motivated about racing again. I needed a big goal to keep me honest and signing up for yet another half marathon just wasn't enough. This needed to be a bigger gamble with a bigger prize. It couldn't be something I could blow off when I lost interest. <br />
<br />
So what did I do? I entered the lottery for the Houston Marathon. Just this morning I received confirmation that my registration was accepted. It was a shock to feel genuinely excited to get this news. With six months of training ahead of me, I am making a vow that I will follow the training fully and create a race plan similar to what I followed for my very first marathon. That first marathon was in San Diego, long before I was anyone's wife or mom. I treated that marathon like it was the biggest event of my life. Race weekend in Houston falls in mid-January with perfect running conditions, creating a city-wide buzz that brings out spectators by the thousands to support the local athletes. I volunteered at a water station last year because I couldn't stand not to be a part of the action in some form. Although the water station work was fun, I'd been relegated to the sidelines (literally!) and only had myself to blame. All the hard work and sweat really is worth it to be able to line up on race day and show the world that you earned a spot to run with the big boys. Sure, it will take me a good five hours to complete 26.2 miles, but the satisfaction I'll feel when I cross the finish line will carry my pride much farther. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://s3.amazonaws.com/com.basno.storage/prototype/7271_1398272498.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/com.basno.storage/prototype/7271_1398272498.png" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-1232275411656639062014-03-10T15:04:00.001-05:002014-03-10T15:05:19.985-05:00Kitchen TrustI watched my kids today. By that, I mean I really watched them, their actions, and their weird little habits. I have two boys, who act like and have the cleanliness standards of pigs. On their best days, they behave like domesticated pigs, but still pigs nonetheless. The game room upstairs was meant to be a family area, but has aptly become their man cave instead. In the game room, they shove dirty clothes under the couch, rather than place them in the hamper just a few steps away. They are careful enough to sneak food upstairs when I am not looking, but too lazy to hide the food wrappers when they are done eating. They keep regular books and comic books staked up next to the toilet because evidently that is the best place to store reading materials. I could go on, but I fear giving you too many examples like this might lead to you to assume they get these weird habits from me. I assure you they don't get it from me. Although my hubby is not a messy guy, he is a bonafide pack rat, so that appears to be where the genetic pattern originates.<br />
<br />
Ever now and again, I take a step back and just observe them for a few minutes. Their personalities amaze me because they have always been true their core traits, even in the womb. One son is high maintenance and always demanding attention, while the other son is ultra laid back and goes with the ebb and flow of any situation. They are polar opposites, and yet, completely inseparable. The fight around the clock but can't stand to be apart from each other for any amount of time. The oldest son is beginning to stake out his independence so much lately that I have to consciously take a step back and allow him to do his own thing without smothering him. The kitchen is an area where he constantly wants to prove himself. The kitchen offers a lot of life lessons and metaphors, and watching him navigate his way around the stove and oven is like watching him maneuver his way through an obstacle course of sorts. Sometimes I take my seat and call out warnings from the other side of the counter, watching and waiting for both of them to show me what they know.<br />
<br />
This morning, they wanted to make their own breakfast. I have allowed this many times before, but I assisted more than they wanted me to. This time they begged to do it by themselves and I agreed. Turkey bacon, eggs and biscuits were on the menu. I still helped them turn the fire on the stove to the appropriate levels, but for the most part I simply observed. I was curious how they would handle themselves while preparing their own meal if an adult wasn't around. Would they clown around and horseplay themselves into a dangerous situation or would they remember all the safety precautions I (yelled) spoke to them about all the previous times. I am pleased to say they did okay. Yes, they left my kitchen in a complete wreck. There were egg shells and yolk spilled on the stove. The bacon was slightly blackened. However in making this simple little meal, they reassured me they could take care of themselves on a basic level. They wouldn't starve to death if they were ever trapped in the house alone on another Houston "snow day". They would remember to turn off the oven and not blow up the house if I wasn't present to remind them. Heck, they might even remember to wash their hands at some point, but I won't get too crazy with my expectations in that department. They are pigs, after all.<br />
<br />
More than simply satisfying their growling stomachs this morning, I sensed that we quietly crossed into a new era. An era in which I would ease up a little on my hovering habits and allow them to handle themselves more. An era in which they would continue to slip and mess up a lot, but I would let them pick themselves up and solve their own problems. I also sensed that they would need me a whole lot less than I would need them. Many of my girlfriends are older than me and have children that passed this pre-pubescent phase long ago. As mothers, they have already been through what I am just starting to experience. They have already felt those first signs of independence, when your kid no longer wants to hold your hand or show affection towards you in public. They have already had to stand by when their kid made a bad decision and simply watched patiently as they tried to work out a solution for themselves. <br />
<br />
This phase almost feels as draining as cleaning up poopy diapers or running behind them as toddlers so they don't stick their fingers into electrical sockets. Even worse, I've heard that letting go doesn't get any easier. Supposedly as parents, we just get better at discreetly watching and waiting for them to need us again. I try to sneak in hugs and kisses on my baby boy these days and he hates it. It is taking time for me to understand that he doesn't hate me, he hates my smothering and babying habits. Every time I force him into a hug, he pulls away, more anxious to prove he is no longer a baby. I will get better at letting him prove himself, as long as he humors me once in a while and lets his old mom fawn over him a little. At the very least, I want them to know I trust them. Right now, I trust them to use good judgement in the kitchen, to be true to themselves in all decisions they are faced with and go after what truly makes them happy. Now that I think about it, this is probably what I want for them not just today, but for a long time to come. The watching and waiting will continue, but I believe they will be okay.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-31498068566504397852014-01-12T13:10:00.001-06:002014-01-12T13:33:39.880-06:00Sugar MamaI miss having a waistline. These words came out of my mouth the other day when I was talking to my husband and he looked at me like I'd sprouted a second head. I should have clarified the statement. I miss having a small waistline. The small waistline days were roughly 25 pounds ago, but that era still dances around in my memory every time I decide to clean up my eating habits. Yes, I love being a vegetarian but I still go through nutritional peaks and valleys just like everyone else. I have this odd dietary battle that I fight all the time, because I love eating vegetables (spinach and zucchini are my favorites), but I also equally love sugar. Tell me to cut out fried foods...easy. Tell me to cut out bread...no big deal. Tell me to cut out sugar and I will freak out. Sugar is my crack. Sugar is my achilles heel and it defeats me all the time. If you had never laid eyes on me and I told you I was a longtime vegetarian/occasional vegan and a runner, you would probably picture a super healthy person with a slender build. Nope. My body shows the damage of a lifelong sugar habit that hasn't improved one bit. I am being real here and I hope my story helps others that are fooling themselves into thinking that sugar is no big deal.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I draw the line at calling sugar addictive. It is different for everyone. For me, yes, I do believe I have some form of an addiction to sugar because I display the typical withdrawal symptoms whenever I do a dietary cleanse. Beyond my taste buds missing sugar, the headaches, phantom body aches and mental disorientation are very real indicators that some form of chemical dependency is in place when I try to flush out the white stuff. Sugar is poison for the human body. Of every food or fluid you put into your body, sugar is the only thing that has absolutely no nutritional value or benefit to sustaining your health. It may act as an aid in getting other nutrients into your bloodstream efficiently, but sugar alone is nothing your body will ever need. EVER. Ask any nutritionist, study any diet fad, follow any weight loss program and the one universal factor is that they all advise you to cut your sugar intake.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So if I know all this, why don't I follow my own advice? It is laziness, plain and simple. I have always wanted to be a writer, but never pursued it. I have always wanted to travel more, but never made time for it. I have always wanted to get rid of sugar, but never made it a priority that would stick. People always talk about having trouble losing weight. Losing weight has never been a mystery to me. I know exactly what to do, but I just don't do it. I don't eat tons of candy or desserts. My biggest problems are with sugary coffee drinks, sugary cereals and skipping meals. Surprised? You should be. You thought I was eating mounds of candy? You imagined me sitting in front of a platter of cakes and cookies? Sure, I will indulge in a dessert here and there, but the <i>daily</i> intake of cereal and lattes has a much bigger sugar impact than most people realize. For instance, my "big girl" sized cereal bowl of Cap'n Crunch and unsweetened almond milk may sound harmless, but it contains more than my entire recommended daily allowance of sugar. Add my daily latte fix and my sugar totals have gone off the charts. Multiple that by 4 or 5 times per week and you easily see how the pounds have added up over the last couple of years. Then add that to my so-called vegetarian meals and things are not as healthy as they once seemed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If I were a world class athlete or a supermodel, where my job and livelihood depended on the condition of my body, then yeah, my priorities would be different. But unfortunately, my nutritional habits have always been about two (or twelve) notches lower on my priority list. The good thing is that my hubby is currently restructuring his diet right now, so there are very few diet demons in the house. Things should be okay for a while. I expect the extra 5 or 6 pounds of holiday weight to fall off pretty easily over the next month. But then what? Will I go farther and try to get my old waistline back? I want to and plan to, but I just need to get out of my own way and stop sabotaging what could be a relatively simple resolution. Maybe I need to break up with sugar and treat it like a bad ex-boyfriend and refuse all contact with it. Don't laugh at me too hard. I am going to need all the mind tricks I can stand to battle this issue once and for all. Good luck to me.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-42044228704920630602013-12-31T17:48:00.001-06:002014-01-01T01:12:48.293-06:00LegacyThe start of a new year always causes me to pause and look back. I remember reading a quote many years ago which stated, in so many words, that the only two things that matter at the end of your life are "what you learned and who you loved". Those simple words resonate with me as I reflect on the previous twelve months, along with all the promises I made to myself and others at this same time last year. Did I keep my promises? Honor my vows? Improve on the flaws that needed fixing? These answers are light and simple as long as I did not screw up too severely in any one area. I could go easy on myself by wiping the slate clean and looking only forward to what the new year could bring. But what if this was it? What if the close of this year marked my own personal expiration? What would be left of me and my time here to warrant any noteworthy memories? What would be my legacy?<br />
<br />
I am not trying to be overly morbid by harping on my demise, but this does cross my mind from time to time. Surely I'm not the only one. Although I was raised Catholic and consider myself a Christian, I make a real effort to learn about and respect the religious principles of various groups. My own spiritual journey is still evolving and leaves me hungry to explore other viewpoints from different faiths. Beyond the walled garden of Christianity, I know that other faiths follow similar universal teachings of love, forgiveness and charitable deeds. We all appear to believe the day will eventually come where we will stand in judgement for the life we lived and the choices we made. I don't live in constant fear of that day when my judgement will come. I would be a monumental hypocrite if I made that type of declaration. However, I do wonder if today was my last day and all my second chances were used up, would my <i>goods</i> out weigh my <i>bads</i>?<br />
<br />
My point is that we really don't know when that final day or year is coming. Last year at this time, many people made heart felt resolutions, but did not live long enough to see them through. Yesterday, someone that died today, planned to still be here right now. How can I be so arrogant to think my last moments will be come at a convenient and well planned time? There most likely will not be a warning bell for me to tie up all my unfinished business neatly for a glorious Hollywood ending (complete with an emotional musical soundtrack, I might add). In true form, my final words will probably be something non-poetic like "aah crap, not now". In that moment my mind may go to my family, my friends and loads of unfulfilled promises. Will they be forgiving enough to remember me for my good intentions instead of my poor actions? Will they be left behind knowing how much I loved them, even if I never said it enough times? <br />
<br />
When I look at photos of my deceased and beloved grandparents, I am immediately filled with all the emotions and memories of the lives they led and the experiences we shared together. My hope is that my children and others will be able to look at old photos of me one day, with my smile frozen in time, and remember my impact on their existence in a positive light. I want my legacy to be more about what good I did do, instead of what I could have done. I need to believe that my work on this earth will endure and inspire someone to want to go farther than I my own journey took me. Maybe they will sense my spirit when they accomplish a personal goal or achieve a life long dream. By "they" and "someone", I mean my own children of course, but these sentiments are not limited to only them. If you want your legacy to endure beyond the span of your life, then you need to start now, on this day, in this hour, in this breath to make your best intentions real. Don't assume that another year is available or guaranteed to every one of us to make good on today's promises. If we live like this year is our last, we may work harder to make the time count for something better than just our best intentions and create a legacy we can be proud of.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Happy New Year to everyone and may this year find you happy, fulfilled and </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>blessed with all the love your heart can hold.</i></b></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-34783078033923368812013-12-23T23:17:00.001-06:002013-12-23T23:17:23.789-06:00Oh, Grow Up!My blog has been getting a lot of hits over the last month although I have not shared anything new. I swear I did not abandon it. I've just been going through some things. If you are connected to me on Facebook, you may already know that we have been doing a small kitchen face lift. This so-called small kitchen remodeling project grew a little, just shy of a high rise demolition and rebuild. It includes some new sleek toys and I am really happy with the results. The original estimated timeline was supposed to be ten days max, but three weeks later the whole thing has come to a close finally. I actually believe my husband was so agreeable in upgrading our outdated kitchen so I would cook more often. Bless his sweet little heart! Hasn't he figured out the only thing to keep me cooking at regular intervals is to actually <i>like</i> what I cook? (He always turns up his nose at my vegetarian creations.)<br />
<br />
Enduring this construction project during the holidays creates a much higher stress level than I could have ever imagined. We have always loved hosting small gatherings at our house during this time of year, but the kitchen demolition has made the party planning a little trickier. We have been eating out every night and keeping the boys out of the messy, dusty house as much as possible. During all this time of family togetherness, I have noticed a lot of changes in their behavior. There are very few signs of sweet little boy traits around here. When they made their Christmas wish lists this year, there were exactly zero toys that made the cut. We have never told them the truth about Santa, but no one seems to be very worried about him anymore. Whenever we are out in public, neither son wants to walk next to me, let alone hold my hand. My title of "mommy" was taken away months ago and now they just call me "mom". Even worse, this title is no longer said in a sweet way. It is usually yelled from upstairs whenever food supplies have run low, like "MOM, WE'RE STARVING!!". It leaves me feeling like I have been through some sort of demotion or reassignment. I used to be the queen of this household and now I am treated like an annoying fifth wheel that is sent away to make occasional food runs.<br />
<br />
Of course this is not good, so this week I tried to indulge them in a little tradition I started when they were really little. Every Christmas vacation, we load up in the car dressed in pajamas and drive around looking at Christmas decorations. When we went this year, they snoozed in the back seat and asked me to wake them up if I drove by "anything cool". I recently snooped on my big boy's internet browsing history and discovered he has been Googling "signs of puberty". He was getting dressed the other day and ran for cover when he heard me walk into the room. Really?? It's not like he's had some incredible growth spurt that produced strange new body parts overnight. Even my once cuddly baby boy acts like I am invading his turf when I walk into his mini man cave. He keeps his eyes on me when I open his drawers to put away clean laundry. We have already reached the point in our relationship where I have to ask them to explain song lyrics to me because I am no longer cool enough to speak the same language.<br />
<br />
Throughout all these little observations, I have taken note that they seem to be adjusting rather smoothly. The two of them seem to be doing okay with their new found maturity and <i>coolness</i>. It's me that can't handle it. They are growing up and maturing much faster than (cough, um) me. I am still stuck in the "adorable little boy" phase, while they have obviously moved up to the "pre-pre-pre-teen" phase and left me behind. I am the one who has some growing up to do. I am the one who is afraid of what new developments tomorrow will bring. By the time I catch up with them, they will have moved on to the next level. It already takes ninja-like skills just to sneak up on them to steal a kiss on the cheek. If that is the best I can get for now, then I guess I will have to treasure it for what it is...precious and rare. My Christmas wish list will include a free hug-and-kiss-combo from each kid that will have to last me until the next gift giving holiday, like maybe Mother's Day. It's going to be really interesting growing up with these two.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-11820031625281811782013-08-31T21:48:00.000-05:002013-08-31T22:05:16.908-05:00The ComebackOver the last few weeks I had a date highlighted on my calendar: September 2nd, Labor Day. This day was significant because I planned for it to mark my triumphant return to running following my foot surgery. This day was chosen because it allowed me six weeks of recovery time for my foot to heal and for all the swelling to go away. Why six weeks? It seemed like a respectable amount of time to be down and out from my sport of choice. Besides, it is the same amount of time I have taken off after each of my previous surgical setbacks. Yes, I've had a couple. Six weeks is just long enough for me to miss my runs without going completely crazy from inactivity. I have never missed that six-week goal in the past and I had no plans to miss it this time around either.<br />
<br />
This Saturday morning I met that goal two days early. My plan was to lace up my running shoes and do a simple test run around the block. There would be no worries about pace, form or appearance. Just take some easy strides to see how my new foot would feel during repeated strikes against the road. I still have a mild limp when I walk, but it is so slight that no one stares at me with that pathetic "poor-thing-bless-her-heart" look in their eyes anymore. I figured I would last about a half mile and be totally spent from exertion, since I had not done any physical activity to this degree since the day before my painful bunion was removed. My shoes were worn and my running shorts were snug from the weight I gained while laying around with my bum foot propped up. <br />
<br />
Nevertheless, I walked out the back door and turned on my running app, as I headed down my street to put the shiny new foot to the test. Initially, it felt a little weird because I am still struggling to use a normal foot strike. Ever since I ditched the crutches, I have been walking with an under pronated foot strike, meaning the outer part of my foot touches the ground first and rolls inward. Supposedly I adopted this bad habit in a self preservation move to protect the tender ball of my foot while it was still swollen and healing. If I don't make a conscious effort to correct this soon, I might end up permanently jacking up my foot in other ways I never intended.<br />
<br />
With my bad running gait, wearing too tight shorts, I managed to surpass my initial expectation of hitting a half mile and stretched this little test run to a full two miles. It felt like I had the starring role in a short film called <i>Fat Girl Running</i>. According to my running app, my stats included an average pace of 4.0 mph, which equals a painfully slow 15-minute mile. For any non-runners reading this right now, that is equivalent to a brisk walking pace. I was breathing hard, with my lungs and quads burning, but I was out there and I was moving. That's all that mattered to me. I felt like I'd won a major prize.<br />
<br />
When I turned the final corner and hit the home stretch back towards my house, another runner was passing me on my left side. She smiled as she ran ahead of me, probably assuming I was a rookie runner because of my uneven stride and slow pace. My stupid pride forced me to straighten up a little to try to look sharper as she passed, but it didn't matter. She was already long gone and too lost in the bliss of her own morning run to notice me. That was when I was reminded that this little journey was mine alone and not meant for anyone else to care about or understand. I had to make this run, as well as all the others, for my own sense of accomplishment. <br />
<br />
There would be no medal at the end and no cheering crowd to greet me. Later in my life, it may not matter to me that there were no witnesses to see that I'd met my little goal on this average Saturday morning. But it will matter to me that it happened at all. It will matter to me that I have never let a setback permanently sideline me. It will mean something to be able to tell my kids that I got myself back in the game without any whining about how far I still have left to go. It won't matter how sore I was at the end of this little two miler, but it will matter that it took far more determination just to <i>start</i> this comeback run than it ever took to finish it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-3290447771519708712013-07-10T11:55:00.005-05:002013-07-10T11:55:56.596-05:00Superwoman Doesn't Live HereI recently changed my hair. For years, I wore it in a super short pixie cut that was easy and convenient for my runner girl lifestyle. My husband loved it and it was easy, so it remained my signature style for roughly 15 years. Sure I would grow it out from time to time, but eventually I would get tired of the upkeep and go back to my simple short look. It was cute, fast and made me feel carefree. So what the hell was I thinking by letting it grow out to shoulder length this past year? Oh yeah, I turned 40 and decided it was time for a makeover. By simply allowing my hair to grow out to a longer length, I had to double everything related to it: my hair care budget, my number of products, my blow drying time and my morning prep time. UGH! I want to go back to bed just thinking about it.<br />
<br />
So was it worth it? Sure, because my guys seem to like this look. My husband would go along with whatever 'do I choose, but it is the opinion of my boys that really gets my attention. My hair has a very thick wavy/curly hybrid and coarse texture to it. Although I occasionally wear it in it's naturally wild state, I also started straightening it most days and it's a lot of work. After washing my hair, it takes about one hour, start to finish, to completely beat my bushy wavy hair into submission. So imagine my disappointment when my baby boy walks in on me during one of my marathon hair straightening sessions and says "you look better with it curly". Huh? Did he just say that? Doesn't he realize that I do all this work in an attempt to look good? So much for that.<br />
<br />
I instantly felt defeated. He waltzed his little 8-year-old self into my bathroom and made me feel like a chump with one simple statement. How does he do that? Why does his innocent declaration feel so monumental to me? He was not being mean or disrespectful. He just stated his opinion in a nonchalant, matter-of-fact way and walked out. My kids and I have both reached an interesting point in our development. I have finally come to a point in my life where B.S. is no longer tolerated and toxic people are quickly shown the door. I feel stronger because I don't spend valuable energy trying to get people who don't matter to like me. Although all the chinks in my armor are not completely gone yet, I finally feel good in my own skin. However, the little people who do matter most to me can walk into my bathroom on any random day and say they don't like my hair and I want to crumble. I don't consider myself to be especially vain, but his brutal honesty about my disheveled appearance has caused me to check myself in the mirror a time or two. <br />
<br />
Why do I let his opinion rule me so much? Probably because I <i>do</i> want him to think highly of me. I <i>do</i> want him to feel okay standing next to me. When I show up to his school to meet his teacher and see his friends, I want to represent him well. I want him to look up to me with pride. But isn't that backwards? As the parent, shouldn't my opinion be law? Shouldn't he be on a mission to impress me? My two boys are very different. My oldest son, who is the miniature spitting image of my husband, gets all his personality traits from me. We like many of the same things (like running!) and miraculously he still chooses to hang around me without anyone having to offer bribes. He's a great kid who looks at me like I am Superwoman that gets everything right, but I get the feeling he tells me what I want to hear sometimes. My suspicion is that he will be the son to look after me when I am really old and unable to chew my own food. I know my glory time with him is limited because he will be too cool to hang with his old mom in about one year. My youngest son, however, just calls it like he sees it. He's not worried about protecting my feelings and self esteem. He just puts his opinion out there, regardless of the fall out. Not much bothers him either. Yeah he is still light years away from adulthood, but I do believe he will continue to have these personality traits later in life. He is like a little Teflon Don that couldn't care less that his socks don't match most days.<br />
<br />
Maybe that is why I value his opinion so much. It's because these are the exact qualities that I want to have one day. I want my guys to like my cooking. I want them to miss me when I'm not around. I want them to brag on me behind my back. In order to achieve my own superhero status, I would have to let the minor failures bounce off me and move on without a care. When people ask for my opinion, I would give them the honesty they deserve instead of the politeness I try to manufacture. Crap, I can hear how ridiculous that sounds: <i>When I mature, I want to be more like my 8-year old. </i>Well, maybe not exactly like him. I still have better hygiene than him and slightly more money. Nevertheless, I admire him and look forward to the day when I can have the same nonchalant attitude about petty issues that don't matter in the larger scheme of my earthly existence. This chic is a long way off from achieving that kind of feat, but my hope is that I will feel content enough with myself in another 20 years or so to finally reach that superwoman status. That means there will be a lot of screw ups and mistakes made in the meantime, but hopefully no one will be paying attention just yet.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-71933761436043170542013-07-04T16:15:00.000-05:002013-07-04T17:06:06.633-05:00If This World Were MineIf the stars and planets were aligned with the universe working in my favor, some simple changes would make my little world a much happier place. I wouldn't ask for much. Just a few minor adjustments could have a major impact on a simple gal like me. Take a look at my wishlist of how things would change if we lived in a world according to me:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li><b>Hairy's Law:</b> First and most importantly, good hair days would rewarded. Houston weather can be brutal. Although I love my hometown, I live in the most humid city in the continental United States. No matter your style or hair texture, you can probably count your really good hair days on one hand in this town. We have approximately 2 weeks of beautiful spring-like weather per year. The other 50 weeks of the year, we spend our days running from one air-conditioned spot to another, making every attempt to avoid the sticky weather with a vengeance. We spend too much money and time trying to perfect our look for nothing. Most of us fall prey to the frizzy fairy early in the day and look like dry bushy poodles by the time we get home from work. If this were my world, ladies that are able to keep their 'dos in check from sun up to sun down would be recognized for their astounding achievement. A trophy or plaque would be awarded to these mythical non-frizzy beings.</li>
<li><b>Brownie Points:</b> Sometimes making the effort to do something constructive is just as massive as the actual task. Don't you wish that earning brownie points was real? Showing up to the gym whether you actually workout or not would be worthy of a point or two. Acknowledging that you need call that old friend whether you do or not would be point worthy. The <i>intent</i> to pay down your credit card debt even if you never really do would earn you a few brownie points as well.</li>
<li><b>Hit <i>RESET</i>:</b> Raise your hand if you have ever started your day on the wrong foot and things kept going down hill with every other step you took. Sure, we have been there and probably wished like hell that there was a way to hit a <i>RESET</i> button and start the whole day over again. Aside from eternal youth and instant wealth, having the ability to start over again with a clean slate might be the most sought after alternate reality most of us would choose. </li>
<li><b>Sympathy Pounds:</b> You know how you often find yourself in situations where you spend time with an unhappy friend that needs some cheering up? We end up taking that friend to dinner, sharing a rich dessert or simply buying them drinks at happy hour in hopes that this kind gesture gives them that little pick-me-up to keep going. However, that cocktail or dinner ends up leaving us helpful and caring friends with extra pounds in the long run. If I had my say, these situations would be categorized as "sympathy pounds" and they could be dismissed and not count against our actual weight or the shape of our physique. Because these extra calories would be consumed out of genuine concern for another person's well being, we could write them off in the same methods that we write off tax deductible purchases. Sounds like a win-win to me. </li>
<li><b>Kiddie Jail:</b> The debate over corporal punishment would be nonexistent if parents had the ability to sentence their disobedient children to some form of kiddie jail. Imagine if your kids were out of control and your nerves were so fried that if you did spank them, you would probably knock them into next season. Regardless of whatever form of punishment we choose, we sometimes are left with a guilty conscience when we question our parenting methods. But what if kiddie jail existed so parents did not have figure it out for themselves? Certain offenses could automatically result in their little butts sitting in a kiddie jail cell for talking back, having a messy room or letting their grades slip. We could assign double concurrent jail sentences for bigger offenses like acting a fool in public or being ungrateful while opening gifts on Christmas morning. Even bad hygiene could be added to the list of offenses. Hopefully one day in jail would be enough to teach any child a firm lesson. </li>
</ol>
<br />
There is plenty I could go on and on about in crafting my perfect world, but they pretty much all relate to me being able to eat and drink whatever I want without consequence, while growing smarter and more youthful as they years progress. I would even invoke the power of the "evil death stare" so we could unleash on stupid drivers that need to be properly punished. When I figure out a way to make any of this a real, I promise to share the secrets immediately. Until then, I can only hope.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-11827609009871503542013-06-21T22:11:00.001-05:002013-06-22T11:30:55.100-05:00Operation Beast Mode, Minus One FootUgly Truth Moment: I have been gym-stalking someone. There is a lady at my local gym that has what I consider to be an ideal lean fit body. She is a mother about my age, looks strong, obviously follows a strict diet and remains completely focused during her workout sessions. How do I know this? Like I said, I've paid close attention. This woman and I have never met, never spoken to each other, nor have we ever exchanged a polite salutation. Yet, somehow she always seems to be at the gym at the same time I show up (no, that was not planned) and she always kicks ass in her workouts. Sometimes I think she looks good just to piss me off. For months, I have used her as my visual motivation for getting to my own fitness goals. Don't judge...we all do this but don't admit it. We all have someone we admire from afar. We think that if we followed their methods and discipline, then maybe we could get to their level of fitness. She does not know me from Adam, but one day I will walk right up to her and tell her how much she has inspired me on many occasions to get my butt in gear. Lets hope she does not run away screaming "stranger danger"!<br />
<br />
Today's workout started like many others. I hopped onto my cardio machine of choice and then moved on to the weights area. I was dragging and not feeling especially peppy when I spotted her. She was in her own world with a singular focus of perfectly executing her reps. She was not fussing with her music player like I was. She was not tugging at her ill-fitting clothes like I was. Her only interest appeared to be the free weight in front of her at that moment. So simple, yet when I am at the gym working out I let my mind wonder to so many other counterproductive thoughts. Why is it so crowded? What playlist should I choose? How much longer before I can leave? If I blocked out those thoughts, maybe my head would have more room to consider ways to get me to my dream physique.<br />
<br />
One of the things distracting me during my workout today is my impending foot surgery. It's not by any means glamorous and I don't like admitting it, but the bunion on my right foot cannot be ignored any longer. Believe me, I have tried. That stubborn issue is more annoying than it is painful. You just can't run away from foot pain. It gets in the way of every freakin' thing I want to do. I do not want to have surgery and I am open to hearing about any other nonsurgical options that will allow me to keep running. This is happening at such an inopportune time because racing season is coming up. My podiatrist is a marathoner, so he understands the need to get my training started for the upcoming season. Normally we start with basic mileage in mid to late July and add on a little each week until we are battling 20-milers by the time the temps cool down in late fall. But six to eight weeks of post-surgery recovery is a scary thing for someone needing to ramp up their mileage during that time. Eight weeks off would set me back tremendously. If I have my foot surgery now, it will be late September before am I back out on the running trails. This means any fall races are out of the question, forcing me to chose races in January or later.<br />
<br />
The so-so good news my doctor gave me was that I could swim to my heart's content during the recovery period. At least my cardio health can remain in tact. As my foot gets better, I also plan to ease my way back into the weight room and do whatever strength training I can. Running will be out of the question, but I plan to squeeze in anything else he tells me I can do. There is no way I am going to let Miss Ideal-Gym-Body-Chic get even further ahead of me in the fitness department. Even if I have to follow the cleanest eating I have ever done, I do not intend to just lay around and lose the little bit of strength I do have. If nothing else, my internal organs will be in super shape no matter what my outer self looks like. I am going to need something to make me feel better while icky stitches are holding my foot together. Boy, I sure hope orthopedic shoes become stylish sometime soon. Looks like they might become a staple for my outfits in the near future.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-34256911889580194172013-06-16T12:24:00.001-05:002013-06-16T12:24:11.110-05:00Father's Day ReflectionThese days you hear so much about fathers being absent from the family picture for various reasons. The 3D's...divorce, death, and "dead-beat-ism"...are sometimes the reasons to blame. However, I've never been able to relate to this problem. My entire life, I have been surrounded by some wonderful fathers that continue to be a blessing in my world to this very day. My father and my stepfather both influenced me at different stages in my development, all in preparation for the day I would find myself united in marriage to yet another great father- my husband. The most amazing fact of this story is that neither of these incredible men were raised in the presence of their own biological fathers. They had no fatherly examples to learn from. Though they were raised in different towns, within different family dynamics, they all shared a common bond of being the forgotten kids, raised well in spite of the absence of their own fathers. It is at this time of the year especially that my heart breaks for the little boys they once were, wishing longingly for a paternal connection that would never be.<br />
<br />
The older I get, the more I look, act and sound like my mom. If I dig deep enough into old family photographs, surely I would find that my resemblance to her at my current 40+ age would be uncanny. Now in her 60s, I appreciate my mother for everything she is and everything she ever did for me. That being said, I am sure she would nod her head in agreement that I was always a daddy's girl. While many dads suffered missteps and inconsistencies, my dad always seemed to get it right. Although he was content as a blue collar guy, my dad was the smartest man I knew growing up. His and my mom's work schedules were staggered, so that he was the parent at home in the mornings to do the breakfast/hair combing/school drop off routine. This man took hair combing so seriously that my sister and I often had to sit through a couple of re-do sessions each morning before he felt our tight little ponytails were presentable enough to be seen in public. The next time you see a childhood photo of me, take time to notice the super straight center part in my hair and how the skin on my forehead is pulled so tight that I look like I've had a pre-teen face lift.<br />
<br />
Each morning our little girly outfits were always pressed perfectly, our hair and faces were always clean and our homework was always double-checked. It was a team effort between my dad and mom, but my dad somehow figured out his half of the parenting with mostly on the job training. Both his dad and mom were out of the picture during his formative years and he was raised by his grandmother. He was no angel and was predicted by many members of his extended family to be the one most likely to end up in jail because of his streetwise habits as a hotheaded teenager. In the 1940s and 50s, his father was a sharp dressing playboy and my dad wasn't his only child left behind as a result of his exploits<i>. </i>He often told me stories of days he would sit on his grandmother's front porch waiting for his dad to come pick him up for promised father-son fishing trips that never happened. I have one really old black and white photo of my dad when he was a bright eyed 5 year-old, and I still have trouble understanding how any parent could have left that sweet little boy behind. In spite of this rough start, my dad eventually matured into a fun-loving, yet strict and fiercely protective father of two little girls that looked up to him like a hero.<br />
<br />
My stepdad's childhood was much different because although his biological father did not raise him, he did have a stepfather. However, he mostly raised himself. I refer to my stepdad lovingly as somewhat of a brainiac. He was incredibly intelligent as a child, so he breezed through school and was off to college at a very young age. Being on your own so young, you might expect him to be lacking in understanding the sensitive needs of young children. However, this man has been the most nurturing and loving grandfather to my own kids that anyone could ever hope for. My boys are still too young to understand the complete dynamic of my parents' divorce and subsequent second marriages, so my stepdad (their "pappa") might as well be their flesh and blood grandfather. The genuine family ties bonding them together are that strong.<br />
<br />
My hubby's childhood story is similar to my dad's in the fact that his biological father was a good looking rolling stone, that romanced many women and left behind many children. We believe that my husband is the oldest known child of his, although the extent of that story many never be fully understood. My hubby's childhood was rough already because he was sickly child, whose teen mother and hardworking grandmother raised him and loved him the best they could. Because of his illness, he was forced to grow up faster than other kids and deal with mature issues that stole his innocent outlook on life at a time when he should have been more carefree. With no exaggeration or sarcasm in this declaration, my husband is hands down the best father I have ever known. I continuously scratch my head on this one, because my husband should be a very emotionally damaged individual considering some of the hurdles he's had to overcome. Yes, I am slightly biased because I am in love with the guy, but I could not dream up a more dedicated father to my sons. My boys look up to their dad like he is superhuman and I hold no jealously toward their undeniable admiration of him.<br />
<br />
How is it possible that these three men from different walks of life could survive different levels of absenteeism from their own fathers to become awesome father figures in their own right? Did God have the end result already in mind when he set each of these little boys on their fatherless journeys? How did my three fathers turn out okay when so many others continue to lose their way? If I understood the answers to these questions, I would bottle the winning formula and sell it to every family I could touch. These men have done nothing extraordinary to be outstanding fathers. They have simply been present and active in their families and shown them love unconditionally. They have recreated their legacy to be one of strength and support, leaving me hopeful that history not only won't repeat itself, but will hopefully teach important lessons about family and the ties that bond.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-27679963190059486352013-06-09T23:15:00.000-05:002013-06-09T23:15:54.633-05:00My Summer Non-Vacation VacationMy summer "vacation" is finally here, but in name only. I actually have more work to do this summer than I can remember in recent years. So far, I've had exactly one weekend off and I am staring at my calendar for the next couple of months in disbelief. When did all these deadlines pop-up on my calendar? Where did all these meetings come from? When did I agree to lead training sessions? Something is wrong with this picture when your so-called vacation is busier than your actual time on the clock. But who the heck am I to complain, because most of the stuff coming up includes projects that I begged for my school district to start for the longest time. As I have mentioned before in a previous post, we were lagging behind in the "new ideas" and "progress" departments at my job. Thankfully this is changing, and not slowly, but more rapidly than even I could have imagined. We are testing out new applications, new hardware, new methods of sharing information and it is all way cool. For once we are not watching the other guys get all the shiny new toys. We are the guys questioning and leading the way to the next big thing.<br />
<br />
Aside from the ongoing personnel additions, my first big calendar event will be the ISTE conference in two weeks. <i>ISTE</i> stands for the International Society for Technology in Education. If you are unfamiliar with ISTE, this is the big mama summer conference for all things EdTech (educational technology). I have never been because the host city is usually somewhere too expensive for me to afford even a cheap plane ticket. This year the host city is San Antonio, so a three-hour drive up the highway is nothing compared to the knowledge and exposure to new ideas I hope to gain. I also had to pay for the registration for this conference out of my own pocket. This may not sound like a big deal, but my district doles out tons of money each summer for various individuals to attend staff development conferences. You pretty much just have to find a conference worthy of attention and then very sweetly ask for your campus or district superior to foot the bill. The response is usually a quick yes on the condition that you use whatever training you receive at your chosen conference to come back to your campus and train others. <br />
<br />
Because I accepted a new position a couple of months ago, I could not ask my old boss to pay for my ISTE registration, nor could I march right up to my new boss to ask the same thing. Call it stupid pride, but I just paid for the whole damn thing myself to avoid any awkward moments. Maybe that is the reason why I have such a vested interest in this trip because it is 100% mine. It is totally for my own self improvement, very much in the same way the yoga conference, clean eating seminars and running trips have been for my own growth and enjoyment. I did those things because I intrinsically recognized something I could gain personally and not because someone else thought it would be a good fit for me. I will be able to sit in on sessions from experts in my personal learning network, as well as sit in on meetings about the latest and greatest product trends on the market.<br />
<br />
Also on the calendar is my Google certification exam. Everything I know about Google Apps for Education has been self-taught, as is everything else I know about instructional technology. Yes, I have my masters on the topic, but that degree was earned 10 years ago. Anything in regards to technology from a decade ago might as well have been a century ago because things change so quickly in this field. I have stayed up to date by following expert blogs and tech reviews and being just plain curious whenever new things hit the market. Thank goodness for the openness of information in technology these days or I would be at a loss as an educator. The training modules are online and I can study at my own pace. The overall goal is to get it done this summer, while I supposedly have more free time to do it. Yeah, right. Free time is not in the cards for me this summer. Any other free hours will be spent with my guys, kicking back for some family time. A weekend trip here and there will be squeezed in between the various home improvement projects we still have going on. An occasional trip to the neighborhood pool will be arranged just to remind my kids that, yes, it actually is summer vacation after all. Throw in a couple of popsicles and we will be alright.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-28737568889336186092013-06-04T22:35:00.000-05:002013-06-05T07:21:43.353-05:00Feeling Brand NewMy habit of apologizing for being away from this blog too long has to stop. I will be more consistent. Believe it or not, I miss it when I don't regularly connect with others through this forum. This time, like the other times, my absence was directly related to activities at work. Things have shifted tremendously at work, for the better, and I am more psyched than my nerdy girl heart can handle. First, I accepted a new position, in a new building, which has a newer design model to be better suited to a newer vision we are following. By trade, I am an instructional technology specialist in a large school district. By nature, I am an all around geek. You know those hopeless nerds that read tech reviews for fun? Yep, that's me. I have not one, but two big tech conferences coming in the next few months and I can't wait. Right now, I am loving my job, but it has not always been that way. <br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Although I got into the field because of my combined love of techie tools and working with kids, recent years kept me from enjoying both. The focus of my job was distorted by other demands that made me feel more like a 24/7 desktop repair guy instead of a certified educational specialist. That is changing rapidly because my district is adjusting it's vision to more 21st century methods of instruction. It includes such an extensive list of changes that I my fingers would be numb by the time I typed it all out here. The most gratifying of all the changes will be the addition of new personnel. Two years ago, my department suffered major cuts and several talented team members were let go as a result. Their absence was felt immediately, first because we were a very tight knit supportive group and second because others had to take up the workload that was left behind. We'd lost our friends and it hurt. We felt like chumps having to go back to our campuses and fake enthusiasm for improvements that just were not happening.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Another reason my love for my job was waning was because we were stagnant. To be the technology leaders in our district, we were not doing anything very innovative. Budget issues, "old school" thinking and fear of the unknown helped create the collective stall in which we found our department. This was the result of several interwoven undesirable factors, most of which have now been cleared from our playing field. Now it feels like we have opened our eyes from a long slumber and are energized to take on the world. We feel relevant again and being experts in our EdTech field (educational technology) is suddenly cool again. Being the nerdy computer geek in the room is now the sought after status. There are the promises of new tech toys, better applications and a vision befitting the group of innovators we hope to become. I personally plan to go after a few choice certifications and add some new skills to my own EdTech toolbox during the summer break. Doing what I do is fun again and I find myself eager to get to work to share with my staff all the new tricks I have learned.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The home front has been going through some changes as well. The hubby and I are knee deep into a major remodeling project that may span several months. The extended time frame is due to funds, not the scale of the job. I am not ashamed to say the new floors, the new paint and the new kitchen are being added one at a time so we can afford each addition in small chunks. It feels like our house has been <i>under construction</i> for months, but I will be thrilled to see the finished results. All of these changes and improvements even inspired me to get off my butt and start back running. I took a break a couple of months ago because I was suffering from good old fashioned burnout. Running is a purely therapeutic escape for me. I am not competitive or very serious about it, but I do love it. When it stops being fun, I stop the running and take a break. The problem is, when this self-imposed break is over, I have to start over with my training as if I am a newbie runner and the process is painful. Painful yes, but not at all impossible.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've had the pleasure of sitting on the interview panel that is screening the new instructional technology specialists for my district. These individuals,young and not so young, are full of energy and fresh ideas. They are ready to start their next chapter in life and it has the old seasoned veteran in me pumped to get things underway. I am going to try my hardest to allow that enthusiasm to spill over into my running this season. If an old nerdy girl can learn a few tricks, then surely the runner inside her can learn a few as well. For one of the first times in my life, I feel that change is good and I am going to take it for all it is worth. If I make it through these changes unscathed, then maybe I can call on this experience to get myself through whatever hurdles are still yet to come. After all, I now understand that nothing lasts forever, not the bad or the good. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-63399318290851746552013-04-07T12:15:00.000-05:002013-04-07T12:59:32.179-05:00Scoreboard: Kids 1, Parents 0Lately the celebrity news headlines have been buzzing with stories about stars that are getting pregnant or adopting children well over the age of 40. There are photos of baby bumps and critiques of maternity fashions everywhere you turn. Even in interviews these folks go on and on about their cravings, their sleep habits and the weirdly unique names they plan to give these kids. Although at its core, these stories celebrate some wonderfully blessed events, I find myself staying clear of the all pregnancy hype just in case that stuff is contagious. Don't want to accidentally catch the baby fever, now do I? There is no cure when that fever hits you. Once it develops, you find yourself laid up for months in a dizzying honeymoon of sorts, daydreaming about kissable chubby cheeks and soft cooing noises. You become so delusional that you begin to believe sweet little bouncing babies actually stay that way long term. <br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
They do eventually grow and start to talk...and talk back...and develop crappy attitudes...towards everything...especially you, the parent that cleaned the poop and wiped the spit up and lost sleep every time they turned over in the night. Remember that series of pregnancy books we all read, "<i>What to Expect When You're Expecting</i>"? I have been contemplating writing my own series of advice books and calling them something like "<i>What to Expect When Your Once Cute Baby Boy Grows Into A Smart-Mouthed Slob That Constantly Wants To Go To Battle With You Over Every Little Thing</i>". Maybe I need a shorter title. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It is not that I don't love my kids with all my heart, but it seems like the game of parenting has just stepped up to the next level for us. Once we left the diapers and baby bottles behind, we felt like we had hit easy street for a while. The boys reached a stage of independence without much drama that made us believe we were doing an okay job. Our biggest headaches were making sure Santa and the Tooth Fairy showed up on schedule and that the food pantry remained stocked with marginally healthy after school snacks. However, lately things have shifted. My beautiful little tykes are growing into real people with real mood swings and real attitudes that can be a real buzz kill on an otherwise average day. We go back and forth over everything from clothing to food to TV, and sometimes just over general bad vibes in the room. <br />
<br />
I fully expected these changes to occur, but much later down the line when we reached the adolescent years. My oldest son seems to have inherited his teenage tendencies several years early and his occasional not so pleasant attitude is taking up way too much space in this household. My baby boy, a.k.a. the Caveman, is the slob that leaves his mark on every corner of the house without regard for cleanliness and hygiene. If something smells or looks like it needs a cap full of bleach, it probably belongs to him. Add to this the fact that they fight each other constantly just because they are complete polar opposites in personality, hobbies and general breathing habits. The time and attention we give to redirecting and managing these two behavioral developments is dominating our every move in this house. As a parent, you walk that fine line between being a good disciplinarian and being a domineering tyrant. You want order and obedience, but you don't want to treat them like the family dog. You want to cut out those smart-mouthed comments, but you don't want to break their spirit for speaking up for themselves. You want to foster their independence and strength, but you still want them to know whose boss in your presence. <br />
<br />
In the last few months, parenting just got really hard for us. We have been second guessing our moves and our speech around the boys, wondering if their bad habits are normal developments or a reflection of our parenting. Have we spoiled them too much? Bought too many toys? Babied them too long? Spanked them too little? Some days it feels like there is a giant scoreboard keeping an ongoing record of our back-and-forth and tit-for-tats. In a way, they are winning and we are losing. It is like there is a battle for control in this house. It started a few months ago and someone forgot to tell my husband and I that the competition was underway, allowing the kids to get an early upper hand. Can I have a timeout, so I can plan my strategy or consult a playbook? It cannot go on this way for another eight or nine years, or can it? <br />
<br />
At this point, I cannot say for sure what direction we will take in an effort to get things back on track. I might start trolling the internet for proper bolts and hinges to lock them in their rooms for a while until we gain control on the home front. Too extreme? Nope! We will slide a tray of food and water in the room once a day. Okay I am kidding (not really), but we have decided to give them more responsibility around the house in hopes that it leads to a little character building. If you fight over a toy, we take that toy away. If you cannot get your act together by the time we are ready to go somewhere, then you stay home. If your room is not clean, then you sit there in the filth until it starts to resemble a human dwelling again. <br />
<br />
Above and beyond all of this, we have vowed to no longer repeat ourselves when telling the kids to do something. We used to bark out an order and the boys would not react right away because they knew we would allow a few more chances before we took action. This probably made us look like chumps in their eyes, but it is changing for the better. No more we will stand at the foot of the stairs begging people to do anything. The hubby and I have cracked down on the discipline and have seen some improvement, but we won't rest on our laurels anymore. We have a few more tricks to try out before we resort to a full blown lock down. Stay tuned. Round 2 is still in progress. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-51721219780079642902013-02-11T22:50:00.000-06:002013-02-12T07:41:39.428-06:00As the Stomach Turns...My first post-cleanse Starbucks experience did not end well. My running buds and I were on the highway heading back to Houston after a quick girls' road trip to run the Dallas Hot Chocolate 15K. Since my <a href="http://yorunner.blogspot.com/2013/01/isnt-cleansing-for-crazies.html" target="_blank">cleanse</a> was over and I was free and clear to eat or drink whatever I wanted, naturally my taste buds led me to my java brewing sanctuary. We stopped at a Starbucks somewhere in B.F.E. Texas and I ordered one of my signature drinks, a short soy mocha. After going nearly a month without caffeine or chocolate, the taste seemed <i>really</i> strong to me. I thought I drank it slowly in an attempt to savor my first decadent item, but in hindsight I might have been struggling just to get it down. Since my diet has changed so drastically, I have become highly sensitive to flavors and smells. I have also become incredibly dependent on water. My water intake was pretty good to begin with before these changes, but now I feel wiped out if I don't keep chugging water constantly throughout the day.<br />
<br />
If that wasn't bad enough, I was wired for the rest of that day. This tiny eight ounce drink was consumed sometime around 1pm. By 11:30pm, I was still wide awake. I tossed and turned all night, sleeping in one hour increments at best. Around 5:00am, on a lazy rainy weekend morning, I finally gave up and got out of the bed in search of some house cleaning to do. My brain was on high alert and would not allow me to calm down and relax. It was a crazy jacked up feeling and I could not believe my system was still reacting to something I drank the previous afternoon. It took a full 24 hours and loads of water for my system to feel normal again. What the @#$%? Is this how it is going to be from now on? After a short hiatus away from caffeine, does this mean I "broke" my body from ever being able to enjoy another specialty coffee drink? Say it ain't so! If I can't drink my Starbucks, what ever shall I do? <br />
<br />
It does not end there. I also tried to eat some sugar-free Blue Bell ice cream. Of course I thought I was being smart by only getting a partial scoop, less than a half of a cup. The plan was to take it slow and easy since I had not digested any dairy in so long. I opted for the sugar-free version because I did not want to bounce off the walls. Sugar was off the menu as well during this cleanse. Two tiny bites into my micro serving of ice cream and my stomach started doing flip flops. It was an immediate reaction to the dairy and it lasted the rest of the night. I wanted to bang my head up against the wall for thinking my insides could survive a dairy invasion. Oh well, scratch that off the list of acceptable things to eat for now. My love for cheesy enchiladas, queso dip and buttery popcorn was fading fast. I consider myself a fairly intelligent person. It only takes one clue or two for me to get the big picture. If these first two experiences were any indicator of what was to come if I continued to to try to eat my old favorites, then I would have to hang back for a while. <br />
<br />
Under normal circumstances, I am margarita and wine lover. Do you think I am crazy enough to attempt an alcoholic beverage after the way a tiny amount of caffeine affected me? Not by a long shot. Just the mere thought of biting into a piece of meat right now makes my digestive system want to lock up and throw away the key. Although I did plan to continue with my vegan diet for a little longer after the conclusion of the cleanse, I fully expected to be able to indulge every once in a while if I cared to do so. However after these little excursions, it felt more like I was punishing myself instead indulging. Sticking with the vegan thing feels a little safer at the moment. When I went to the grocery store to stock up on lunch items for this upcoming work week, none of my old stuff appealed to me. I loaded up my shopping cart with fresh produce, beans and grains without really thinking about it. <br />
<br />
My hubby commented that my face and shape were slowly changing. Of everyone in my yoga cleanse group, it appears that I may have actually lost the least amount of weight, which is 6 pounds. After chatting with others in the group, I discovered that many of them lost about 8 or 9 pounds on average. This did not bother me, because I knew my body would continue to adjust now that I would keep up these dietary changes for a while. If I end up losing another 6 or 7 pounds, I will be happy. I also plan to get back into my weight training now that most of my racing calendar is complete for the season. It is normal for me to go through this cycle of wanting to hit the weights and tone up in time for the spring weather. The difference now is that I will have to make a concentrated effort to take in enough protein and B-12 supplements. It is going to take a little practice but I think things might turn out for the best. I suppose it can't be a bad thing that my body is rejecting the junk and the toxins. Whenever my brain catches up and gets with the program, I just might be on to something good.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-75223056089736942692013-01-31T20:23:00.002-06:002013-01-31T20:37:03.995-06:00The Cleanse: Mid Point Check-InSo right now I am roughly half way through my <a href="http://yorunner.blogspot.com/2013/01/isnt-cleansing-for-crazies.html" target="_blank">21-day yoga cleanse</a> and things have been overall positive. If you recall, the focus of the cleanse is for us to abstain from the "big five": sugar, animal products, gluten, caffeine and alcohol. In other words, I have been a very sober, sugar-free, decaffeinated vegan for the sake of this experiment. My initial anxiety was having to give up sugar, but that has been one of the two least difficult items to avoid. I thought I would be coming out of my skin by now, hopelessly yearning for sugar of some kind. The monster-sized cravings I thought would consume me simply have not happened. I am shocked. As long as I keep sweet treats out the house, I am able to avoid them quite nicely and my kids don't seem to notice the absence of their sugar laden snacks much either. If I had to name one sugary thing I have missed the most, it would have to be Tropicana orange juice. Why? I have no friggin' idea why. For some reason, when I think of sugar, that is the "delicacy" that crosses my mind first. Weird, huh?<br />
<br />
Avoiding animal products has not been hard either, simply because I have gone vegetarian several times over the years. However, it is avoiding the dairy items that takes a little more practice. Let me explain. When I was a vegetarian, I was an ovo-lacto vegetarian, which means I avoided eating meat but I still ate dairy products and eggs. This cleanse requires us to go all out as full blown vegans, meaning the dairy had to be eliminated as well. This still has not been difficult for me, but I did notice that I eat some dairy products out of habit and not always because of taste. Since I am a self-proclaimed cereal oficianado, switching from cow's milk to unsweetened almond milk sent my taste buds to no-man's land. Unsweetened almond milk is pretty bland, but it does it's job in the supportive role of moistening my gluten-free cereal just the same as cow's milk.<br />
<br />
What I surprisingly have missed the most is my morning cup o' joe. I never considered myself addicted to caffeine, but not stopping at Starbucks for my soy Americano or Mocha has been rough. I am pretty certain the baristas at my local Starbucks have put out a missing person's report on me. They have probably been combing through the obituaries expecting to see my picture, because death would be the only thing to keep me out of a coffeehouse this long. It is not really the coffee itself that I miss, but the comforting feelings I normally associate with the smell and the warmth of coffee. It relaxes me and serves as my temporary crutch in the mornings when I am not quite brave enough to face my mornings alone. Yeah I could try to drink the decaf stuff for the next few weeks, but that would feel like eating diet ice cream when the super rich full fat version is what you really want.<br />
<br />
Although I have whined too much about what I am not allowed to have on this cleanse, I tend to forget all the factors that have tipped my opinion in favor of this thing in the first place. First and foremost, I have lost a little weight while eating filling and satisfying meals all day long. By staying clear of the processed junk and loading up on the fresh whole foods, I have easily dropped the recommended two pounds per week that so many medical professionals say is the correct amount to aim for. I have been eating more than my usual amount of food and still remained well below my daily calorie count. My workout regime has shifted a little during the cleanse, because I am simultaneously doing the 30-day yoga commitment, too. My running has temporarily taken a back seat until this cleanse is over, because I wanted to keep my focus on the internal changes I was trying to make and not the sweat sessions I usually take pride in doing. So far the formula has worked. On any other diet, I would eat a "cheat treat" and then go to the gym and run my ass off on the treadmill, trying to burn off the calories I cheated with in the first place. This was definitely counter productive, because I would continue to the cycle day after day and never actually lose any weight at all.<br />
<br />
The best part of the cleanse for me by far and wide is leaving behind my regretful eating habits. By that, I mean I can honestly say I have eaten absolutely nothing on this cleanse that I regret eating. Usually, because of "cheats" and dietary slip ups I would make from week to week, I would look back on my diet and workout journals and be regretful about my awful food choices. I am such a food lover sometimes that I pig out on the good stuff and the junk in a 50/50 fashion. For the sake of this cleanse, those percentages have shifted to about 90% healthy whole foods and it feels damn good to be able to say that truthfully. My cleanse only lasts one month, but I am seriously considering keeping up the vegan portion of the program after the official <i>diet</i> is over. I will gladly add my delicious morning coffee back to my routine, as long as it is dairy free. The sugary stuff will take a back seat as well after the cleanse, now that I see I can go without it successfully. Who knows how my margarita and wine favorites will fall into my new list of priorities, but so far I haven't missed them. Is it possible that I am beginning a new healthier chapter because some funky new age dietary cleanse? Let's hope so, because this old body can use all the help it can get.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-21939845426500503822013-01-20T08:10:00.002-06:002013-01-20T08:10:53.879-06:00Isn't Cleansing For the Crazies?If I had to pick one quality that I love most about myself, it would be the fact that I am always willing to try just about anything at least once. Whether it is a new hairstyle or a new restaurant, there is always something out of my norm that catches my eye. This does not mean that I have to fall in love with everything or adopt it as anything permanent, but I do like to step outside of my little box on occasion just to get some variety from time to time. Most of my <i>try-something-new</i> adventures center around food. It is amazing that I never became a better cook because good food, not junk, has long been my preferred drug of choice. I use good food to celebrate, to soothe, to remember, to forget and sometimes just to be a glutton if I am really honest with myself. My latest new thing to give a whirl is a 21-day cleanse that starts this weekend. It goes hand in hand with a 30-day yoga commitment I am currently doing at my neighborhood gym, so the two activities are meant to support each other.<br />
<br />
As a guide for the cleanse, we are following a plan laid out by author <a href="http://www.kathyfreston.com/kathy_freston_books.html" target="_blank">Kathy Freston's book <i>Quantum Wellness Cleanse</i></a>. For 21 days, I will avoid what she calls the "big five". They include (in order of "Oh Hell No!") sugar, gluten, caffeine, alcohol and animal products. I purposely listed them in my personal order of difficulty, although others surely may have a different perspective. I amno stranger to Kathy Freston's books, so it was an added bonus that this experiment would follow a plan I was already kind of cool with. I have done similar stints like this in the past where I would eliminate animal products from my diet and was in fact a full-fledged vegetarian for two years before I got married. Why I became a carnivore again after marriage is still a bit of a blur to me. Somewhere along the way, I must have fallen into a beef brisket and never climbed back out. I still flirt with the possibility of going back to my old ways and even tried going vegan for a short while last year. Whenever I fall back into the habit of eating meat, I can never identify exactly why except to say that I become lazy and stop paying attention to what I eat. Mindless eating for convenience is going to be the death of me, literally.<br />
<br />
There are a few factors that make this cleanse different for me. First, I have never done any type of diet of any kind with a group before. I usually hate all the gooey gushy sharing that takes place in group meetings, so my method has been to suffer in solitude and do my dieting alone. Hey, but like I said, I will try anything at least once, so here goes. I signed up at the gym and we will meet for an hour and half once a week for a month to offer support and swap healthy recipes. This is all being put on by the yoga department, so we are encouraged to practice yoga daily and record our experiences in a journal that we can share with others if we choose. Throughout the cleanse, I will be encouraged to give less importance to the foods that are eliminated and embrace new things that I normally would not be willing to try. Already this sounds like it will be right up my alley. <br />
<br />
After you eliminate all added sugars, gluten and animal products, you are left with a mostly plant-based diet. The biggest pains about actually following a plant-based diet are the constant trips to the grocery store. Fresh veggies and fruits do not have a long shelf life, so you may find yourself in the store loading up every 2-3 days on average or else you will fall of the diet wagon. When I did my short vegan stint last year, I do cringe remembering the near constant trips to the store but I did enjoy the food. I remember the way I felt lighter and more clear-minded throughout my days. I remember how my weight starting to drop nicely without much change in my fitness routine. I remember my skin looking healthier and my hair being shinier. So if I remember all these good side effects from the veganism experiment, why the hell did I ever stop? Was it laziness after so many frequent store visits or having to plan and prepare meals ahead of time? Who knows.<br />
<br />
Another factor that is motivating me is that fact that I am making some huge dietary changes all at the same time. In the past when I wanted to drop weight, I would eliminate meat <i>or</i> sugar <i>or</i> alcohol. I have never eliminated all these things at the same time, so I am curious about how my body will change when I play by all the rules at once. Will my system go into shock from being too damn healthy? In my quest to achieve a slimmer figure in the past, I would eliminate sugar or processed carbs and lose about 5 pounds. After that I would get bored, change up my efforts and <i>accidentally</i> scarf down a cupcake or something. Before you know it, after a single slip-up, I would throw in the towel and slowly let my dietary vices slip their way back in. I would end up right back where I started. <br />
<br />
Also one sad thing to admit is that anytime I have cleaned up my diet in the past, I've always given myself an "out" or a Plan B, some sort of way to cheat and still claim to be on track to the outside world. I don't want to be that person this time. I want to follow the cleanse as closely as possible because I am truly curious what transformation my mind and body will go through. I actually want to be a good pupil this time and do what the teacher is requesting of me. When I seriously look at the plan through mature eyes, it does not look so scary. I mean, it is only 21 days. Come on, I've had college boyfriends that barely lasted that long. <br />
<br />
Based on my experience with no-sugar/no-caffeine eliminations in the past, I can expect the first 4 days to be pure hell. Headaches, cravings, and plain old all around bitchiness are going to be on full display. I will have to keep reminding myself that these food eliminations are temporary and I am merely giving my body a break from all the toxins. My hope is that I will be able to leave some of them out of my diet even longer because ultimately they all contribute to my overall weight gain. I am carrying around an extra layer of Thanksgiving/Christmas/birthday partying pounds that I have chosen to ignore for the last couple of months. Now it is time to face the music and dig through those extra layers of pudge to find the body I want. I haven't seen that body in a while, but I know it will not remain hidden for much longer.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3943362823370377690.post-42493411899171628672013-01-08T23:06:00.002-06:002013-01-08T23:15:34.782-06:00Lessons Learned: Looking Back at the StreakBy the time you read this, I would have completed my crazy little running streak. I made it and it actually flew by as if only a few days passed. The plan was to run a minimum of one mile every day for 40 consecutive days, but it ended up being a little more than that. This is because my Go-FAR run club girls had a group run the day<i> after</i> my streak was scheduled to be over, plus I had another run with my boys and a post-yoga class run just to sweat a little. Oh well, one extra run wasn't going to kill me after lasting this long. Make that two more, or wait, three more extra runs? I also have a 5K and a half-marathon coming within days of the streak's end. So total, this will make 46 consecutive days of running. Whew! I surely did not see that coming. I must be a little crazier than I originally thought. One day I will eventually sit down and calculate exactly how many miles I covered during this time, but that will be a day when my brain is less mushy than it is right now.<br />
<br />
So how was the streak, you might be asking? It was a learning experience in ways I did not expect. I thought I would be tired, burned out and ready to get it over with. I thought an injury might happen or my schedule would get too busy. I thought my family might grow resentful because I was too focused on a silly little promise I made to myself without any rewards to gain. None of that happened. Instead of burning out from the daily routine, the running became highly addictive. I learned that running in the morning before my schedule gets crazy really is the best option. I have normally been an evening runner because of my super early work schedule, but since I was trying desperately to keep things from getting stale during this time period, I made some adjustments. So, morning runs won most of the time over evening workouts. The only thing that could have prevented me from getting my run out the way first thing in the morning was my ability to dream up a worthy excuse. As long as I did the run in the morning, the stress of squeezing it in later was eliminated. This meant getting to the gym at 4:30am for treadmill runs some mornings because it was just too damn early to run alone in the dark by myself.<br />
<br />
Another lesson learned from the streak was to keep the running light and fun. I read once that in order to change your attitude towards a given task, you have to change the way you refer to it. Instead of saying, "I <i>have</i> to run later", you would say instead "I <i>get</i> to run later". This would make it feel like a treat is waiting for you instead another tedious item to be crossed off your to-do list. On days that I needed to do longer runs, I made it a point to take my time exploring new routes or even revisiting old ones that I seldom made time for anymore. I made my way down to Memorial Park for runs at least once per week to keep things interesting. If you are unfamiliar with my reference to Memorial Park, it is the running mecca in the Houston area and it is easy to rack up double-digit mileage exploring some of the running trails in that park and surrounding area. I trained for my first marathon doing most of my runs along the Memorial Park and Allen Parkway trails, so in a way this brought me back to my running roots, like some sort of informal homecoming. <br />
<br />
Some runs were in mild weather, some were in freezing cold temps and a few were in the rain. Normally I am not a rainy weather runner, but I got caught out there in a few showers a couple of times during the streak and survived them nonetheless. I ran alone, with old friends, with new friends, with my boys, on the treadmill, and on the trails. I ran with music, without music, sometimes without a watch, but always with a clear mind and a free spirit. It was wonderful and the deeper I got into the streak, I felt tremendously blessed to be able to walk out the door and put one foot in front of the other in good health with a sound mind. The streak slowly transformed itself into a celebration of sorts, a testimony for all the souls that ever dreamed of running, but simply did not or could not for one reason or another. <br />
<br />
My husband has always been the health nut of our family. Every family has at least one and yes, it gets annoying! He eats well, lifts weights, bikes, swims, and runs just to keep himself strong. However, when my <a href="http://yorunner.blogspot.com/2012/01/year-in-retrospect.html" target="_blank">husband was sick</a> a year and half ago due to kidney failure and in his weakest state, his weight plummeted 60 pounds. He could not walk across the room without feeling winded and needing to rest. Back then, he would have given a pirate's treasure just to be able to walk around our house with ease. My thoughts went to him and back to that time of our lives when good health was not taken for granted. Because of those memories, I would end my runs giving thanks to God for the ability to lace up my running shoes and push my body in ways that some others may not be able to do.<br />
<br />
This reminds me of a quote I read today that said, "<i>If you really want to do something, you will find a way. If you don't want to, you will find an excuse</i>." Isn't this the gospel truth? This streak taught me to prioritize the things differently so my joy was not trampled by all the "must do's" and "have to's" of my daily routine. I got to enjoy my oldest hobby at it most basic level and learned to love it again. The whole experience was so positive that I even considered extending the streak by another 20 days just to see if I could make it. That idea got squashed because it is easy to let too much of a good thing morph into a bad thing. There was no need in getting greedy. My running would always be there and the possibility of doing a repeat performance could remain a viable future option. Instead, I decided to try a streak of a different kind. For 30 consecutive days, from January 15th through February 13th, I will be participating in a yoga streak. No, this is not an original idea of mine. My gym is sponsoring this 30-day yoga commitment and it will give me a chance to further explore a hobby I have pushed to the back burner for far too long. If I can experience just some of the joy I gained from this last streak, I should be in a very happy place by the end of the next one.<br />
<br />
<b>A Side Note:</b> On days that I did run with my iPod, I had what I call my "feel good" playlist on a loop to keep my feet snappy and my mood positive. I shared it here in case you need a little "mood" music too!<br />
<br />
<u><b>My Streaking Playlist:</b></u><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>"Freedom" -Nickie Minaj</li>
<li>"Madness" -Muse</li>
<li>"32 Flavors" -Alana Davis</li>
<li>"On to the Next One" -Jay-Z</li>
<li>"Hall of Fame" -The Script</li>
<li>"Paper Cut" -Linkin Park</li>
<li>"Working Day and Night" -Michael Jackson</li>
<li>"Life is a Highway" -Rascal Flatts</li>
<li>"Are You Gonna Go My Way" -Lenny Kravitz</li>
<li>"Home" -Phillip Phillips</li>
</ul>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998033429649775399noreply@blogger.com0