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Thursday, March 5, 2015

Dear, ITBS: I win!

Good riddance, ITBS!  It took a lot of dedication and patience, but... I win!

ITBS, better known as: 
I'm Tired of this Bull, um, Shit
It Took Beaucoup Strengthening
It's Time; Buh-bye, Suckahhh!

Here is how I beat this poophead:

  • I took a full week of rest, meaning, I sat on my couch and ate doritos.  Yes, FULL REST.
  • In between doritos, I started an aggressive strengthening routine.  When the dorito bag was empty, I went to the gym and finished the routine.  Okay, seriously, here is what I did every day (and am still doing):
    • 2x 25 clam shells, raised clam shells, and leg lifts
    • 25 weightless lunges and weightless squats
    • 2x 20 lateral band walks on each side
    • ten minutes of foam rolling
  • Three or four times each week, I completed 3x 20 leg extensions (30lbs), leg presses (50lbs), hamstring curls (20 lbs), and glute extensions (40 lbs).  Coming to theatres soon, the return of QUADZILLA, mwuhahahaha.  
  • Once running again, I cut my mileage back to the threshold of pain.  Meaning, if the pain started at three ovaahhhh!  It took over two weeks to build back to a five or six mile run.  This took the most discipline (and the most cursing).
  • I dropped A LOT of F-Bombs.  A LOTTTT.  Very therapeutic.  Try it sometime.
So, there ya have it.  I'm back, b*tches.  It was 70+ degrees in Greensboro yesterday (yep, it's March 5th), and I ran nearly 11 miles painfree.  My fitness is working its way back, but I was able to average 7:00 and click off the final mile at 6:15 just for fun.  And yes, my fingers, toes, and shoe laces are all crossed right now, and I'm knocking on some serious wood (<-- that sounds dirty :-O).  

I'm not making any definite decisions on races yet, but I'm pretty sure I'd like to see what I can do in the half-marathon and then look towards a fall marathon.  I'm weighing between going for a fast time and awesome experience at one of the world majors (Chicago!) or choosing one in which I can be competitive and go for the win.  Unless I win Chicago.  Bahahahaha.  That's funny.

Outside of running, the past month has been great.  Logan is now walking, which I LOVE.  (Over-emotional Mom Alert -->) The excitement in his eyes with every step he takes is a great lesson in celebrating all our successes, whether big or small.  He is also now saying "Mama", to which I get weak in the knees and swishy in the tummy (unless that's all the dairy?!).  Mike and I have a great routine down now, and to all first-time moms in their first year that feel constantly out of control, I can say this:  it gets soooo much better and easier!  I promise.  Trust me.  I was a hot mess.  Momzilla.  Sobfest.  I'm good now though.  Right, Mike?! 

Onward and upward!

 Whoaaaa.  Doritos are buy one, get one free at Harris Teeter this week!

 Date night!  We aren't always sweaty...

 Best buds!

Eating healthy was not part of my strength routine.  Yes, all five glasses are mine.  Try to keep up...  

 Shameless strengthening leg press selfie.  Goober.

 The snow-covered Lehigh University cross-country course.  We ventured north for our former teammate's memorial service.  Rest in peace, Steve.  

Maintaining my strength work in the Hotel Bethlehem fitness center.  ...very cruel view out the window.


Monday, February 2, 2015

Winter Whine

It's okay that I decided to forgo a spring marathon.  No, really, it is.  It's okay that I just emailed the Wrightsville Beach Marathon race director telling him I won't be on the start line.  Seriously, it's cool.  Ehhh, who am I kidding.  It f'ing sucks. 

My ITBS pain (not to be confused with IBS, which is funny, cuz ya know, that's kinda my M.O.) reached an all-time high, or perhaps I should say an all-time low, a couple of weeks ago.  When you continually try to run through something that clearly needs strength work, and you don't do it, well, whaddya expect.  <---This is purely a factual statement for your learning pleasure.  I, OF COURSE, did not partake in this!  Liar.  Anywho, after a constant stream of a few days off, run again, a few days off, run again, I am finally taking the rest and work I need to get this fixed.  

Whiner Alert --->  What sucks is that my fitness was on fire.  After Philly, I set some pretty nasty goals (nasty in the awesome sense, which really doesn't make sense, but whatever, work with me here).  I figured that if I can run a 2:58 only 11 months after expelling a mini-Mike out of my you-know-what, the sky's the limit.  I used to think I could only get so fast, but that mental block is now blocked.  I know I have a lot more in me, and it was showing over the past month.  So, could I still run Wrightsville?  Sure.  However, I don't just want to run.  I wanted to race.  I wanted to win.  So, my goals are on hold, but they aren't going anywhere.  In the meantime, I'll be here, waiting to hit the roads again, enjoying my full-of-lactose-and-dairy cheese alongside my whine.

It's probably for the best anyway.  The past two weeks in the Goff casa have gone like this:  Logan gets a cold, gives said cold to me, Logan gets the most epic of epic stomach viruses EVER, and finally (I'm hoping this is the end), I come down with a fever, ear infection, and a blown out ear drum (<--- how does that even happen?!).  If I was trying to train hard through all of this, lawwwwd, I'd be grumpcious (grumpy + vicious).    

So, while unable to train, Mike (who, mind you, has stayed healthy through all of this...what!) and I have been chatting about mini-Mike number two and when might be the best time to expand the brood.  At first I thought, well, I can't run, so now is as good a time as ever, but then I was scrolling through my phone and found this (TMV Alert --->):

Sweet jeezers, that &^$% is big!  ...and that's only 28 weeks!  Mmk, so maybe not yet.  Btw, TMV = too much visual.  ...although that probably would have helped you before the photo.  My bad.

So, that's the scoop.  Once my knee is aligned with my brain and heart, it will be all systems go on these goals.  Although, who knows, if one mini-Mike brought such success, I'm not so scared anymore of what will happen after a second.  With hard work, passion, unwillingness to settle, and a little sacrifice, anything is possible!

He may be a mini-Mike, but he is definitely my son too!  
nom nom

Happy Running!
...Oh, and Happy Groundhog's Day.  Jus' sayin'.

Saturday, January 17, 2015


What do female reindeer do on girl's night out?

Wait for it...wait for it...................they blow a few bucks.

BAHAHA.  No, I didn't make that up.  Yes, it was one of the cards for sale in Target's "naughty and nice" section.  No, that was not their raunchiest one.  Yes, I did buy three of them one.

It's kinda sad, but while Christmas shopping, I was tummy-hurts-cracking-up while reading these cards.  Perhaps my head has been stuck up my ass for too long now, but when did Target get so racy?!  Regardless, it helped me realize something:  In 2015, I want to have more fun, stress less, and c-to-the-h-to-the-ill out.  Mind you, I am not one for New Year's resolutions (I mean, why make changes in January?  What's wrong with June?  If you want to get in shape, June is warmer...jus' saying), but I guess this kind of is one?  Lawd help me.

We are 17 days into the New Year, and my early resolution report card gives me a B-.  To earn an A, I should have corrected myself as such in the following situation:

While out on a stroller run with Logan, a nasty sweet old lady honked her horn in Logan's face for what I thought was no reason, until she turned her car around and berated me for running on the wrong side of the road.  Nasty Sweet old lady obviously does not know the rules of running on the road, so instead of flipping her two birds, I should have simply educated her on them.  Or just flipped her one bird  ...a B+ ain't too shabby.

Okay, so where have I actually done well?  Let's start with work.  I made the decision to cut back about 20% of my responsibilities in favor of more time with Logan, Mike, and friends.  I'll still be working full-time but will focus primarily on coaching, which over the past few years has become my true passion.  It took me a long time to follow through on this decision; I was a little afraid of being perceived as a failure for admitting I couldn't handle everything.  However, what's liberating now is giving two shits, wait no, SIX shits, about what others think of me.  Did you know that 91% of peeps pick their nose on a daily basis?  Yep, ain't no one gots room to judge (and apparently 17% admit to doing it in their car.  Eww.  Where do they put their boogers!?  ...aaaand, we're off topic.).

Mm k, so, after the Philly Marathon, I took two weeks off before commencing with the "jackass" phase again.  ...ya know, that phase before base phase in which you run whatever the heyull you want, and hence, act like a total jackass.  Oh, you don't know?  Whatever, jackass.  Anywho, the problem now is, I'm having a slight knee, um, problem, which I'm about 87.2% sure is IT Band Syndrome.  This is undoubtedly a result of ignoring my tight hamstring while training for Philly, as my attention was primarily being given to please-don't-shit-yourself prevention.  Over the past few weeks, I was stubbornly running through the ITBS, but after a 9-mile run this past Tuesday, I knew it was time for some rest.  So, with that said, my name is Jen, and it's been four days since my last run...

Here's the thing though...I'm at peace with it.  Whoa now...this chill Jen bitch is scaring me!  With a little TLC, my knee will get better, and running will, as always, still be there.  If all goes well, you sure betcha I'll line up for another marathon this spring.  If not, no worries, the fall isn't too far away, and it looks like Chicago is my next calling.  I already have new marathon goals, in addition to some over shorter distances, and I'll attack them when healthy.  In the meantime though, on Wednesday, I rode the recliner bike (recliner bike...that's an oxymoron, right?) for 30 minutes on level wimpy seven while gossiping with a friend and checking Facebook.  HARD.  CORE.  ...but it was fun!

  As for my tummy issues, still no answer, but here's what I've determined...I'm about 79.4% sure I'm dairy intolerant as a result of pregnancy.  However, the daily pleasure I receive from drinking a 16-ounce filled-to-the-rim-with-milk white chocolate mocha outweighs the severe potential of shitting myself while running.  In fact, if that were to happen, I may even console myself by eating cheese.  On another good note, my strep throat has decided not to make its fourth appearance.  Although she's scary, that chill Jen bitch gets all the credit; it turns out that cutting yourself some slack works wonders for your immune system!

So, there ya have it.  While 2014 was amazing for so many reasons, I am looking forward to 2015, a new perspective, less stress, and more time with my two men, friends, friends' babies, and, well, me.

Christmas Eve morning with best buddy Wit

 Christmas Eve dinner with Aunt Alisha

Chillin' at home

On a final note, I returned to Target this morning.  The "naughty and nice" section has been replaced with the "sexy" lineup for Valentine's Day.  Low and behold:

 Does that really say bend over?!

Happy 2015!  

Tuesday, December 2, 2014


I did it!

And by "it", I mean I did not crap myself.  Obviously.  YAY!

In the week leading up to the Philadelphia Marathon, I found myself getting more and more nervous.  The unknowns of how my body would respond made it feel like my first marathon again.  I knew I was in decent shape, but I did not know how much the recurrent strep and tummy crud would interfere.  Five days prior, I had a GI episode after a 6-mile easy run, which led me to give up all lactose, most dairy, wine, and caffeine as a last ditch effort to save my hide and pride.  This meant that for five days, I was a bitch had no Starbucks peppermint white mocha or zinfandel.  Whoa.

Mike, Logan, Zoe, and I made the ten hour filled-to-the-roof car trek to Philly on Thursday.  We had SO much fun (<-- sarcasm).  We stayed in the burbs with Mike's parents on Thursday and Friday night before heading into the city on Saturday.  Upon arrival at the hotel, my dad was awaiting us in the lobby bar.  Yay!  He was drinking wine.  Grr.  After neurotically laying out the next morning's race attire down to the hair twistie (with four extra in case someone stole the one off my head), it was off to dinner, where Logan recommended the whole wheat penne with marinara and chicken.  Good choice, Logan.

Race morning.  4:10am.  What sick bastard set an alarm for this hour?  Oh, yeah, me.  Okay, get up, lazy ass.  Ugh.  Did you seriously just walk into the dresser?  You dumbass.  I need a light.  Must pee.  Did you seriously just trip over the toilet?  You dumbass.  I need a light.  I bet Dad is still drinking wine in the bar.  Why is Mike still sleeping?  Doesn't he know I need a light?  I wouldn't have neurotically laid out all my stuff if I knew I'd have NO LIGHT.  I'm cold.  Where are my pop tarts?  Did another alarm seriously just go off?  Why am I so OCD?  Wait, did I seriously just wake up at 4:10am to run 26.2 miles in which the threat of shitting myself exists?  You dumbass...

Mm k, after turning on the lights and pulling myself together, Mike and I walked to the start area at 5:30am and found the elite tent.  Pretty cool stuff.  The best perk was that it was heated, but I had to laugh because...drumroll.........there was no light.  The tent was pretty packed; although not a marathon major, Philly attracts lotsa fasties.  About 20-30 minutes before the start, we stripped out of our warmups and started giving each other the I'm-sizing-you-up-while-trying-to-pretend-I'm-not-sizing-you-up stares.  I used the bathroom for the 872nd time, and then it was time to roll.  We were led to the front of the line, asked to do a run out, and this is when I let fear and doubt seep in...

The gun went off, and to my surprise, they held the entire field to give the elites and seeded runners a 15 or so second head start.  FREAK OUT!  I don't know what happened in my brain, but I felt it was necessary to, uh, wait for the rest of the field?  I mean, I started running, but I'm pretty sure I was in last place for the first 200 meters or so.  I was convincing myself that I didn't belong with the elites and kept looking back when, damn it, I should have been looking ahead.  ALWAYS LOOK AHEAD. When the first corral started catching up, I spotted a guy holding a 3:00 sign, and this was where I decided to stay.  So, I hovered.  When I look back at this race, I want to kick myself for being such a putty (<-- insert s's for the t's in this word...sorry, couldn't get myself to actually write it.  So gross!).  I always tell runners I coach that when they stop expecting failure and stop treating themselves like a second rate runner, this is when their potential will be reached.  So, yeah, I rocked that.  Go, Coach!

Mile 1.  Letting all the maroon bibs catch me.  Silly putty.

Around mile 2, some random dude starting chatting with me.  Our convo went like this:
Random Dude:  Hey, what's your goal?
Me:  I dunno.  Maybe 3 hours.
Random Dude:  Oh, me too.  Cool.  Maybe we can run together.
Me:  **silence**
Random Dude:  So, what's your name?
Me:  Jen.  Yours?
Random Dude:  Slow Mo.
Me:  Excuse me?  **choking on phlegm**
Random Dude:  Slow Mo.
Me:  Your actual name is Slow Mo?
Random Dude:  Yeah.  It's stuck since I was a kid.
Me:  Have a great run, Slow Mo.  **picks up pace**

Talk about a bad omen!  However, random dude was just the kick in the ass I needed.  Time to man up, woman!  I shed my arm warmers, stopped looking back, and promised myself no more running in slow mo.  I settled into a nice 6:50's pace groove for the next 10 miles or so, feeling extremely easy.  It felt so easy that I never even noticed the hills people warned me about around Drexel, Penn, and the zoo.  I crossed the halfway in 1:29:52, high fived Mike, Dad, and sis-in-law Lindsey, and decided it was time to GO.

Chillin' at mile 13

Miles 14-18 passed in 6:45, 6:44, 6:41, 6:38, 6:38.  I was rolling.  Weightless.  I started passing back some of the elite and seeded runners.  Hellz yeah.  See, you belong there, Jen.  You're a total badass.  You've SO got this.  Oh shit.  What the hell is that disgusting smell?  OHMIGOD IT'S HAPPENING!  Did I just shit myself without knowing it?!  No, no, no, no, please God, no.  Oh phew, it's the dude in front of me.  That sucks.  Like, REALLY sucks.  I cannot believe he is still running!  I want to give him a hug.  Because that really sucks.  But giving him a hug would be really gross.  Because he has shit all over himself...

FOCUS!  Around mile 19, we started a gradual climb into Manayunk, and it started getting a little tougher, but I was still maintaining around 6:40 pace.  It wasn't until mile 23 that my pace dropped back to 6:50's.  Luckily, I made the decision pre-race to pack an extra gel in my boobs, which helped a ton (If I look rather busty when I run, you now know my secret.  Oh, I don't look busty?  Well, I didn't ask you.  So, whatever.).  When I crossed the 26-mile mark, I could feel the emotion start to seep in.  I knew I had just crushed the 3-hour barrier, but after a year full of pregnancy, surgery, and other body crud, I was in minor shock.  In the final .2, I did not bother to kick.  After the halfway mark, I passed so many runners, but not one, single runner passed me.  However, in that final .2, I didn't care who came screaming past.  Without sounding overly cheesy, this was my one minute and 20-some seconds to relish in my accomplishment, be thankful for everything in my awesome life, and not care who the hell saw me cry.  My second half passed in 1:28:39, and I crossed the finish line in 2:58:31.

Total Emotional Vom

In the week after the race, I did not run one step except for to the fridge.  I allowed myself all the dairy and wine I wanted, gained a couple of post-marathon gluttony pounds (Seriously, running a marathon the weekend before Thanksgiving?  ...Best.  Decision.  Ever.), caught up on work, and relaxed.  I discovered that when I am not running, I sometimes forget to shower (<-- unneccessary statement).  Unfortunately, my strep throat came back three days after the race, making this the third occurrence in seven weeks.  Therefore, I plan to take it easy this week too and already have appointments set up with an ear, nose, throat specialist (fingers crossed for no tonsillectomy!) and a post-pregnancy abdomen specialist.  Time to figure out all this mess so that I can look towards my next goal, whatever that may be.

Thanks, Philly, for an unforgettable day, and congrats to everyone that raced.  Onward and upward!

Friday, November 14, 2014

One Week Until Philly

Good riddance to last week and all the election crap!  Being the ever-enthusiastic-political-extraordinaire that I am, here were my voting strategies:  

* Kay Hagan vs. Thom Tillis.  According to tv ads, you are both mean and, um, suck?  Hey there, Sean Haugh.  I don't know what you look like or how to pronounce your last name, but mm k, VOTE!

* Someone vs. someone vs. 847 other people that I don't know for NC Court of Appeals Judge. Hey, look!  Chuck Winfree!  That dude hosted the Love Connection!  Wait, no, that was Chuck Woolery.  Whatever.  Loved that show!  VOTE!

* Oooh!  Someone named Cheri!  I have a Streaker named Cherie.  Kinda similar.  Wait, what is Cheri running for?  Cherie is running the Richmond Marathon in a couple of weeks!  Yay!  VOTE!

So, maybe politics aren't my strong suit.  That's okay though; I've got another race to think about now...

T-Minus one week until Philly!  Gulp...

Right after my previous post, I was diagnosed again with strep throat.  When I came home from urgent care, I may or may not have thrown our bucket of Halloween candy across the room.  CON:  Feeling like a loser while having to clean it up by myself.  PRO:  STILL finding mini packets of candy that I missed...SCORE!  

At what should have been the height of my training, I struggled to get the runs done, even calling it quits on my 22-miler at mile 13.  Even though I finished my second round of antibiotics five days prior, my fever still lingered above 100, and I set out for the run the pouring rain...cuz I'm reelly intelijent.  Luckily, Mike knew I was struggling, and just when I needed a pick me up, he and Logan drove by ringing a cowbell out the car window.  Little did Mike know that his pick me up ended up being just that - he picked me up, and we drove straight to Starbucks.  Peppermint white mochas in red holiday cups are known to have a healing, calming effect (<-- I made that up).  And no, I did not throw it.  I'm not that stupid.   That shit is good.

Since then, my runs have been up and down.  Some are like DUDE!'re in great shape!  Some are like DUDE! ...find a new hobby!  I'm tired and all over the place.  Plus, while the fever has subsided, all the antibiotics have ripped my tummy to shreds.  My neighbors must think I am the fastest woman alive as I sprint back to the toilet house on about 77% of my runs.  Oh, and if anyone wants to challenge me to a farting contest, you better bring your A-GAME cuz it is ON!  (<-- TMI alert.  ...I bet you wish I put this at the beginning of the sentence, eh?). 

Yesterday, I went to the doctor to get all this tummy and strep mess checked out, and after impatiently waiting for close to two hours to actually see the doc (I may or may not have gotten huffy with the front desk lady out of boredom), here were her diagnoses:  1)  I need to cut out lactose, 2)  I need to cut out gluten, and 3) I have a small, umbilical hernia in my tummy.  Here were my responses:  1)  Nope.  Peppermint white mochas have lactose,  2)  Heyull nope.  Jen runs on gluten as much as America runs on Dunkin,  and 3)  What!  WHAT!?  Do you really want to go there with me right now?  Let me guess!  You want to perform surgery!  Yeahhhh, give me that laparoscope, and I'll shove it up *%$  *^%&.  Okay, okay, I did not say that, but you damn betcha I was thinking it!          

Mm k, no matter what, when I get to Philly, I am there to RACE!  I have been given a seeded bib number, which means I get to start in front behind the pros/elites.  And I think we get special bathrooms?  Yeah, they should probably give me my own bathroom.  Like, at every mile marker.  K, thanks.  I am excited, with a side of nutty, but like I tell the runners I do the best you can do on any given day.  Three weeks ago, while at my worst, I contemplated dropping out of the race.  Then I told myself to suck it up; you are healthy and able, and you will finish what you started.  ...unless you shit yourself.  Then stop. Seriously, just stop running. 

I have learned a lot over these past few months.  I know now that when we have another baby, I will not train for a race in the first year.  Too many unknowns and unforeseen setbacks, which if you are Type-A like me (Wait, me?  Type A?  Nooooo.) can drive ya to drink (Wait, me?  Drink?  Nooooo.).  Seriously though, I am continually trying to better myself at living in the "gray" instead of the "black and white".  I'm an awesome planner, but when plans get derailed, I don't always handle it so well.  Okay, okay, so I suck at it.  Regardless, I do know one thing...I cannot wait to see Logan's face when I cross the finish line next Sunday and to plant a big, sweaty smooch on those chubby cheeks.  No matter what the race brings, that face is guaranteed to make me smile!

Happy running and racing to everyone in Philly! 

   Spectators need to carbo-load too!
(this is kinda how I feel about gels, buddy...)

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Four Weeks Until Philly

Do you ever notice that people with those "wag more, bark less" stickers on their cars are the ones that make you wanna bark the most?  I mean, seriously, I wouldn't bark if you weren't driving 10 mph UNDER the speed limit or didn't just cut me off and pretend to not notice that you cut me off. 

Don't mind me.  I'm a fresh batch of grumpy cakes right now.  After being derailed last week by strep throat, Logan has now been diagnosed with the hand, foot, and mouth virus, which means this week is heading down the shitter as well.  Work and running are suffering, and sleeping is...wait, what is sleeping again?! 

In my exhausted state, I've reached a few, new lows this week:

*  After my run on Friday, I didn't have time to take a shower AND eat before getting to work.  So, I ate in the bath tub.  I dropped a dorito in the water.  I still ate it.

*  I'm pretty sure I've seen 742 attack ads from Kay Hagan on television this past week alone.  I'm so OVER them.  When I saw her face come across the screen on Sunday, I threw my half-eaten pumpkin pop tart across the room at her.  Then I finished eating it.

*  I told the pediatrician yesterday that the hand, foot, and mouth virus is like a designer coffee.  Hand, foot, and mouth is basically a long way of saying blisters just like a venti, soy, three pump, skinny, gluten free, extra shot, your-barista-is-never-going-to-get-this-right-so-stop-talking latte is basically a long way of saying espresso with fat free candy.  She stared at me blankly for about five seconds and then left the room.  I felt like a loser.  Then I went to Starbucks.

*  When Logan and I got home from the pediatrician, I noticed our front door was unlocked.   I convinced myself there was an intruder inside, saw a man come out from a room upstairs, screamed, spilled my designer coffee on Logan's car seat (which he was still sitting in), realized the man was Mike, started crying in the front yard because I am an idiot, and pretended not to notice my neighbor staring at me.  

So, yeah, it's time to reevaluate.  When I started running again after tummy surgery and preggo-life, I told myself that the Philly Marathon was merely a comeback race, and I'd go for something faster again in the spring.  I would get my legs back underneath me, give myself time to return to form, settle into the mom-work-marathon balance, yadda yadda.  I surprised myself though when I started running a little better than expected earlier than expected...a 19:30 5K, a 3 x 2-mile workout at 6:16 pace, some good tempos.  Nothing outrageous, but hey, perhaps if I kept going at this rate, I could gear towards PR shape for Philly!  This is where I lost site of perspective.  No matter what, whether it be getting sick, Logan having a rough night, a crazy work week; etc., I started expecting results from myself regardless.  This wasn't how it was supposed to be, and I need to get back on track with cutting myself some slack.  

Meh, who the hell am I kidding.  I don't think it's in my blood to cut myself some slack, so hey, with only a month to go until Philly, let's see what this mushy brain and tired, albeit eager, legs can do.  Bring it on, Philly!
**Cue Rocky theme song**

For now though, the number one priority is getting Hulk Logan healthy.  Despite having blisters, eh hem, hand, foot, and mouth sores, all over his body, he is smiling, laughing, playing, and well, just being his awesome self.  Last week when I had strep, I was convinced I was dying, sulking under a blanket, and cursing everyone on the tv screen.  We can learn a lot from babies.  Oh, and dogs.  Cats not so much.

Happy Barking!  ...and running of course.  :)

Coaching advice:  Ice baths go by faster with company!

Warren Rives 5K - First race in over 18 months! 

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Living Life to the Nines

This week has been pretty epic.  Mike and I celebrated nine years of marriage, and Logan celebrated nine months of, um, being alive. This week is also a down week in mileage (my longest run will be nine miles to keep with the theme), and then this happened:

Lawwwd, someone smack me!  ...homemade ice cream cake surrounded by homemade chocolate chip cookies and hot fudge.  Would it be excessively cheesy to say we are on cloud nine this week?  Too late.  I said it.  I'm a loser.  Shut up!  You weren't supposed to agree.  

Once the jiggle wears off from the cake, I anticipate my training will continue kicking ass.  I've been back at it for three and a half months now, and other than having a pet lizard living in my stomach, I feel awesome.  I rejoined a gym to hit the weights again, added tempo/speed workouts back in, and I'm not in as bad of shape as I anticipated after pregnancy and all that stomach surgery vomit.  My long run will reach 18 miles again next weekend, and I dropped two miles at 6:17 pace at the end of a seven miler the other day.  I start to hit the wall as I get close to the end of my long runs, but I know that is my endurance still rebuilding.  I am getting the itch to race and might enter a 5K for fun sometime soon.  Granted, the 5K is not my cup of Starbucks, but as a good friend said to me, I just need to "rip off the band-aid" and do it.  It's gonna hurt, and it might not be pretty to look at afterwards, but it's the only way to know where I am and move forward.  Seriously though, 5Ks kinda blow, dude.

So, yeah, this pet lizard thing. When you look at your stomach, does your belly button continually contract out and sink back in, even if you hold your breath?  Do you randomly see a bulge on one side that if you look five minutes later, might have either completely disappeared or moved to the other side?  Do you feel like you are being inflated like a hot air balloon the farther you run?  No?  That's because you don't have a lizard living in your stomach like I do.  It's the only thing that makes sense. So, I named her Lizzy.  Lizzy used to bite, but I keep her on a leash now, and her temperament is therefore well under control.  For reals though, abnormal abs have become my new normal, and as long as I am not in crazy pain or doing further damage, I am a-ok with that!

Life right now is all-around awesome.  Logan is growing up so fast (too fast!), and I fall more in love with him everyday.  He is standing up, has three teeth, and is so perfectly FAT!  Fat babies RULE!  He loves margaritas (proof he is my son) and wants to let all the single ladies know that he is on the market and ready to mingle.  

Disclaimer:  not allowed to date until age 35
I have become the master of efficiency lately.  It took me a while to figure out how to fit all the pieces of my life puzzle together, but it CAN be done.  When I am working, I am working; no random chit chatting with the nice lady sitting next to me at the coffee shop.  When I am lifting, I am lifting; less time in between sets, and less judging of those that take too long in between theirs.  What?  Me do that?  Nooooooo.  When I am done running, I move right on with the day; no more hoovering a bag of gummy bears, except for on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, because I earned it, and no more over-analyzing my run stats.  Ultimately, when I pick Logan up at the end of each day, I want all the other pieces to be in place so that he and Mike are my sole focus.  After all, they are the most important and beautiful piece!

Happy running!  
Only NINE weeks left until the Philadelphia Marathon!