11 miles – Silvia August 19, 2008

I looked down at my Garmin 405 and read 4.66. Shit! I am not even half way done! I stopped. I can’t do this. I look ahead and see my dog look back at me as if to say, why are we stopping. Damn dog with limitless energy. I keep going.

The night before I watched the women’s marathon. I was amazed and enthralled with their super lean bodies and blistering pace, despite the announcer saying they were running at a “pedestrian” 5:30. Pedestrian! He even said that one of the runners was “slogging” along. Slogging? That’s my word…that’s me. That’s not them. I was “running” at a 11 minute mile pace – not consistently either.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth I ran along the 2 mile dirt road. I was getting sick of trees, mud, and weeds. I saw a deer take off and that was cool. I heard wld turkeys and wanted my dog to chase them for fun, but he didn’t. He was too busy staying ahead of me and then looking back and thinking, come on slowpoke.

I finished the 11 miles, on one hour and 59 minutes. Sick. The marathoners were practically done by that time. How in the hell am I going to run 26.2?

I did decide in my 2 hours of thinking and running and dehydrating ( I didnt have any water…stupid I know) to go on a diet. Perhaps I was delirious. But I can’t carry around these extra 4 bowling balls anymore. It’s just too hard. The day after my 11 miles, I could barely move. My mother is taking care of her husband, who is really sick, and needs a walker to move around. Believe me, I was eying that walker with envy. That’s how sore I was. So, starting Thursday (well maybe Friday because my hubby and I have date night Thursdays) I am going to try to make some lifestyle changes in my eating habits. I will keep you posted.

One more thing.  As I was getting ready for my run, I put on my hefty armor to hold in the girls because this was going to be a long run.  I  checked my luggage and I was aghast because I forgot my Vaseline.  Uh oh!  You know what that means…major chaffing.   So, I decided to improvise and used my Adidas deodorant in all the strategic spots.  I figured the chaffing is caused by the wetness rubbing against straps.  Guess what?  It worked.  There was no chaffing in the spots where I applied the deodorant.  Yippee!  I didn’t worry about blocking sweat glands or whatever because I sweat in so many places that it more than makes up for the lack of sweat near my buxom bosom.   Speaking of sweat.  My ears sweated so much that my headphones (the kind you wear over your ears with the foam over the speakers) were soaked and I could ring them out like a sponge!  YUCK!

My Friend, Food – Silvia July 18, 2008

Did you ever have one of those days? Well I had one of those weeks. It’s not been a picnic and my answer to stress and anxiety is to call on Food.

Food has always been there for me. Friends come and go, but not Food. He’s always ready, waiting and willing to fulfill my heart’s desire. I celebrate with Food, cry with Food, get angry with Food, complain with Food. Food is always there to calm me down and make me feel happy. The problem with Food is that he has a trusty sidekick Blubber. The Lone Ranger had Tonto, Batman had Robin, and Gumby had Pokey. Whenever Food aids me through a crisis, adds to the joy of celebration or relieves me of my boredom, Blubber has to be there. He’s so annoying, Blubber. Food is long gone. But Blubber keeps hanging around. I mean Food is great; he comes; he goes. It was fun while he was around. Blubber never goes away. He’s like a guest that overstays his welcome; he’s so hard to get rid of – a free loader.

So, I have to come to terms with my relationship with Food. I can keep him as my best friend or just use him for survival. You know, eat when I’m hungry not when I’m needy. There’s a novel thought, eh? And just eat good Food. Not be influenced by bad Food. Why is it that women always go after the bad boys?

My run today was hard. The 3 miles went on and on. I watched the mileage numbers tick by, 2.34, 2.35, 2.36…It was like watching the clock on the last day of school before summer vacation. Pure torture. The Ipod didn’t help. Knowing that I am carrying 4 ten pound bowling balls didn’t help. Having the urge to go at mile 2.44 didn’t help. I realized that this will be a slow and difficult process. There will be good days and bad days. It is such a mental sport, this running business. I want it to be over already, but it’s just the beginning.

Alone with my Thoughts-Silvia July 18, 2008

I just got back from Claddagh – the Irish bar/restaurant. It’s Thursday Trivia Night where my husband and I try in vain to get the answers to questions that always seem to just evade the realms of our knowledge of useless information. I drank two beers – Shandy’s (half beer and half Seven-Up mmmm…refreshing) and gorged on the fried cabbage rolls. The calories I consumed are well over what I burned today running. That’s the pain of running. It’s only about 100 calories per mile. You sweat and struggle, drink a beer, and it’s all for naught. I read recently that rookie marathon runners are sometimes 15 pound heavier than when they first began training because they think they have a license to eat whatever they want. ( Sort of what a lot of first time pregnant mom’s think…or was that only me? I gained 60 pounds!). It seems like we are not the first cheeseburger lovers turned marathon runners.

I was alone with my thoughts today. Scary, I know. I was on my way to the gym to workout. There was no way that I was running in the heat. Hats off to Kirsten for doing it. I would die. I died getting out of my house and into the car to drive the less than 2 miles to the gym. Pathetic. Driving to the gym which is relatively close – wasting gas, adding to my carbon footprint – just to run 4 miles. I know what you’re thinking, I could have run there and back. But, it was sooooooo hot and humid. 90 degrees plus the humidty. Excuses, excuses, I’m full of them. Anyway, I get into my sticky car and was half way there when I realized I forgot my Ipod. I wasn’t turning back because I had to get my run in so that I could make happy hour at Claddagh. ( I have my priorities in order )

I got up on the treadmill and didn’t even bother warming up. I just wanted to get it over with. That’s all I thought about, finishing. Not really…a million thoughts went through my head. For example, there was a guy about 6′ 4″ walking (strolling really) on the treadmill directly in front of me blocking my lovely view of the parking lots with his backside. With nothing better to look at I saw his shape and thought his butt is the same size as mine and I am a female and much shorter. The motorcyclist was right I do have chubby cheeks (aka “fat ass”)! This got me thinking to what my ‘wise’ 18 year old son said to Kirsten and I yesterday after we ate hot dogs and chips at the park with the students. He said why are you guys filling your bodies with junk. It’s not the calories as much as the junk. He said to lose weight it’s simple, calories in must be less than calories expended. But, beyond that, you guys are asking your bodies to run a marathon but you are not giving it any energy to do it. How can it run on garbage. After I yelled at him for being so mean, I had to agree, the kid had a point there.

The next day Kirsten and I discussed all the extra weight we are carrying around. She’s carrying the equivalent of a ten-pound bowling ball and I am carrying the equivalent of a four of them!  I dare you to pick up a bowling ball and run with it…just one mile!  That’s what we are doing each time our feet hit the pavement.   No wonder we are slow and tired. We are filling our bodies with regular gasoline and we should be fueling it with ultra premium. So much for the cheeseburgers. But if we want to succeed with this, we have to make some lifestyle changes. I am scared that they will be harder to make than running. (Not really, I still hate every minute of running and only want to be faster so the torture is over quicker).

What is 10 pounds?-Kirsten July 17, 2008

Well, I was tempted to copy and paste the same blog from yesterday because the outcome of my run was similiar to yesterday’s run. I think if I had turned on the news I would have been advised to not run outside because of the heat, but I did not have time to go to the gym tonight, so I was stuck with either NOT completing my run or suffering in the heat. However, today we were talking about extra weight, and how our bodies are running with it. The motivation to change my eating habits lies in the fact that you can’t feel good running if your body isnt properly fueled. I have a new motivation though; I want to get my body to it’s ideal weight because I am running with 10 extra pounds on my body. Ok, 10 pounds may seem like nothing but think back to a time you had to carry 10 pounds. It is in fact a significant amount of weight, and I truly can feel my body is heavier running. My hope, and motivation is to eat better (a splurge every now and then is going to happen) and then my body will drop the extra fat I am carrying with my every time I run; I take my dog, my ipod, and can’t forget to grab the 1o pounds of fat too!!

Sick and Tired – Silvia July 16, 2008

I can’t believe that I am ready to give up after one week. Not really. But I had one of those days. I was tired, as in sleepy tired. My upper back was sore and I had stomach pain…all I wanted to do was have a ten hour massage and sip Cosmos – not teach summer school, not run 3 miles and not grout the stairs.

I went to the gym anyway and I just wanted to walk. Walking counts doesn’t it? It seems so silly that I would be too exhausted to run a measly three miles, but I was and I was hurting. I weighed myself hoping that a pound lost would boost my spirits…nada. I weighed the same. Bummer. Why bother? Because I want to run a marathon. It’s not about the weight; it’s not even about the cheeseburger. It’s about fulfilling a lifelong dream and about pushing myself above and beyond what I mentally I think I can do. Frederick Douglass said that there is power in the struggle. Every time we do something that is out of comfort zone makes us stronger…even though we may be kicking and screaming all the way.

I turned on my Ipod and the Beatles filled my ear. I heaved myself onto the treadmill and walked a few minutes to warm up. Then I cranked up the speed to 7.0 and put one foot and front of the other over and over again. It’s that simple. But it isn’t.

Under Armor – Silvia July 13, 2008

Yesterday I went sports bra shopping. This is a necessary evil if you are bouncing your girls on a regular basis. I am endowed with size D breasts. Before you become envious of my hooters, keep in mind that these are not the perky Barbie Doll breasts, like the ones that had guys drooling when they watched the Baywatch lifeguards run along the beach. Mine are more like the National Geographic kind. You know what I am talking about. The kind that hang to your knees. Yup, my boobs hang low and they wobble to and fro and I can tie them in knot and I can tie them in bow and when I run I wish I could throw them over my shoulder. Oh, not so jealous now are we?

So, I am in the running section at Dick’s Sporting Goods and I look at the colorful cute tank tops made from fabric that wisks away mositure to keep you dry and fresh. Some, even have built in support. OK – false advertising there, there’s barely enough “support” to support my nipples. I move away and gander over to the colorful sports bras. The kind you see women runners wear during races and on the streets nowadays. These are the closest things that women have to going shirtless. They are so cute – colorful patterns, sporty colors, racer backs. I remember when Brandi Chastain took her shirt off after the win in soccer to reveal her sports bra and the controversy it caused. We’ve come a long way baby. Now, Women wear them everywhere in athletic events. I tried one of those kind once. I looked like I stuck an extra large Chipotle Burrito on my chest. I move away reluctantly to the ugly bra section.

Bras for women like me are not pretty. They come in white, black, or pink. No sporty colors or designs that make you feel like an athlete. They look like maternity bras. They have huge wide straps and built in wires and seams everywhere. The bonus is that that seams are covered with extra padding to prevent chaffing. Oh joy, oh bliss. I pick out my size and buy it. A young guy is at the checkout counter and I see him struggle as he lifts the huge bra and puts it into the bag. When I get home I try it on (I know you should do that at the store, but I don’t). I strap myself into the armor and feel like I am ready for a jousting battle not a nimble foot race. Nonetheless, my girls feel supported. I put on my baggy cotton T-shirt ( I can’t wear the thin breathable shirts because all the wires and seams of my bra show through) and no one is the wiser. Don’t worry world, I won’t be pulling a Brandi after a race.