Beyond a Birthday

I heard someone say once that by the time you turn 25 all of your habits are in place.  I certainly hope not.  I am now 25...

I really did not think that I would take it all that hard.  I felt it hit me 2 days before my birthday.

I am turning 25, I have some terrible habits still and I don't really know what I am doing with my life.

Commence freak out.

But I'm a little better now.  Now that it has come and gone and there is nothing I can do about it.  What I can do is thank all of the people who made it such a wonderful day.

The day before my birthday my entire family (except one brother-in-law, Dan) came together to celebrate.  Including husband and myself, it was 14 people. Glorious.

The whole gang went to a recreation of Bethlehem which was really special, but quite cold.  After we left the camels, carpenters and Roman guards, we went back to my eldest sister's house to eat dinner made by my husband. It was so nice to not have to cook or do anything. I just sat back, danced with my nephews, (check this out... he's quite the little groover) and drank wine.

After dinner came the great unveiling.  I opened cards and an amazing necklace from friend/sister, Mary Allison and her husband/brother-in-law, Ben.  Next, Jeff slid out a giant box.  I was sure that it was going to be something for photography, but the box was just a little too big.  Then I saw a plastic handle on the top.  Hmmmm...  looks more like a set of caphalon pans than anything else.  Caphalon pans would have been nice, but instead I got a honking new computer.  It is glorious.  I cried.

No seriously, I  sobbed.  I was crying so hard I was wiping snot on people and giving wet nasty kisses.  Every single member of my family pitched in, including my in laws who were not able to be there that night.  My husband organized it all and I can not tell you how much of a surprise it was, nor can I tell you how many hours I have spent on it so far.  It's embarrassing.

On the night before my actual birthday I was lucky enough to have accidentally turned off my cell phone so I got to sleep in.  Ohhh what a gift to myself!  After my mid-day awakening, Jeff and I went to get bagels... obviously.  Then I went to take my mother flowers, a little birthday tradition we have.  Think about it, what work did I do on that day?  Nothing. She's the one who deserves the gifts.

Speaking  of my mother, my Momma got tickets for us to do a candle light tour of Monticello on the night f my birthday!  It was amazing.  We even got to go into the rotunda room.  I don't think I will ever forget it.  After our dork fest we went to have dinner at my parent's house where my precious Papa had made me steak, potatoes (no sour cream) and broccoli.  Again, so many nice things done for me on my 25th.

The last gift I MUST mention was an amazing painting my good friend Kate did of my bridal portrait.  I had NO idea she was so good!  I am in awe of how much cooler she is than me. :)

In closing, thanks again to everyone who called, texted, facebooked, and visited.  I love you all.  Some more than others.



Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

You make me want to drink.

You know who does that?? Only my Hokies, and my job. You are not allowed to join those ranks.  You are not allowed to make me cry. You know who does that? The Hokies and my job.

So guess what?  Unless you are going to lose to JMU or sign my paycheck, please don't address to me for a while.

Yeah that's right, I am talking to you.  I am talking to YOU, the fellow female, the fellow bra wearing, PMSing, hip swinging female who asked me if I was pregnant.  I KNOW I'M OVERWEIGHT.  But guess what I'm not... PREGNANT. Nor am I too proud to blast you on my blog.

You know why I am blasting you on my blog? Because when you asked me if I was pregnant, my first worry was about how awkward YOU were going to feel when I said 'no'.  But sho nuff, you didn't bat and eyelash.  You simply said "well I was just betting you were since everyone else is", and by betting I was pregnant, you were betting I wouldn't slap you.


I don't want to be nasty, but where were you raised that it is EVER ok to ask someone who is overweight if they are pregnant.  You have known me long enough to know that this tummy is not from a parasitic fetus living inside of me.  It is from the second serving of manners my mother gave me growing up.  Want some?

So after calling my husband, friends and sisters, crying my mascara off, and refusing to eat dinner, I am now sitting on the couch, watching Man VS Food, because apparently I need to learn how to put my noteworthy girth to good use through competitive eating.


P.S. Hi Brian! Bye Brian!


Richmond Half-Marathon :)

The above shirt highlights my feelings exactly.

Let's start at the beginning.  Since this was my second half marathon, there was a little bit more pressure to do well time-wise.  The runs leading up to the race were not going very well. Shin splints, lack of mental focus and an overall feeling of not wanting to be running.

When the run started I paced myself behind what looked to be a a group of sorority girls. They were running a really great pace and they were quite entertaining!  However, while I was running I started to realize I was having tummy problems.  Buuuuh.

At about mile 2 (yep, only 2 miles in) I decided it would be better to puke and get it out of my system than to suffer for 2 more miles.  As I was waiting in line for the bathroom I realized the grand flaw in my plan.  Ponder this for a moment... what could be worse than being face first in a porter potty?

I wasted about 4 minutes waiting for a potty break that would end up being no more than a pee stop.  At this time, I had lost the pack of Tri-Deltas or whatever they were, so I had no more entertainment. I did however have a lingering memory of a failed attempt to puke.  Pleasant. I know.

At mile 4 I began to feel worse and worse. It felt like at any moment I was going to 'exorcist' on the runners in front of me, and depending on how far my head spun, the people behind me as well.  I was sure that it was not the running, because I was on pace with my practice runs and I didn't puke then.  It was the feeling of eating something I should not have that morning. It was the same feeling I got at the 4 miler.  The race where I puked in front of children. Not my best moment.

Eventually I saw up the straight away that I was coming up on a crowd of cheerleaders and spectators, and knew that I did not want to ruin any more childrens lives with my little show.  I decided porter potty or not I was going to have to end this feeling so I ran into the bushes and started attempting to lurch.  The woman to my left at the time looked over in surprise.  I can tell you I was mor-ti-fied, but instead of hiding in shame, I looked at her and said "this is my worst nightmare".

I wanted to stop. I wanted to puke up whatever it was that was bothering me, and curl up on the sidewalk, pondering all the while if when the sweeper comes along, maybe they would collect my limp, puny, vomitrous body.

With another failed attempt to puke on the books, I hit the pavement.  One mile later I saw Lauren and Terra! It was inspiring to see them leaving the park as I entered.  The park loop was gorgeous! I thought that it would end sooner than it did (it ended up being over 3 mile) but it was nice to be in the shade and in the leaves. :)

After leaving the park, I got to cheer for some folks who were suffering more than I was and who were 3 miles behind me, but still moving! Which was the same spot where I saw Lauren and Terra, and I am sure they were having the same thing I was. :)

"Awww... they are so ______ (insert synonym for fat, slow or about to die)."

After leaving the park I really don't remember much until mile 10.  Or what I thought was 10 miles. Yep, I was on mile 9 and I thought I was on mile 10. I looked at my pace and was ASTONISHED at how well I was doing.  I knew that I had lost many minutes living "my worst nightmare", but I must have been flying during my black out miles.

When I realized I was really not all that mad. I knew that I had not done as well as I had wanted, but how can you be mad when you realize that you only have 3 miles?  Even if you thought you only had 2.1...

The best moment was when I came up to mile 12.6 or so.  I was booking it down the hill and I hear my name, well my nick name, being yelled by three people. I looked over to my left and I saw my sister Megan, who had run the 8k, my sister Alison,  my friend Jessica (whose husband ran the marathon!) and my nephew, Duncan!  They were holding an amazing sign made by my other sister Katie. It was a real family affair. :) Needless to say I am out of breath, out of energy, flopping downhill and sobbing. Not a cute site!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Regardless, I got to the finish line and heard even more people cheering!  When you run a race there is nothing better than the sound of people cheering for you. Although at mile 2 the best sound may have been me actually vomiting.  ANY WAY...

When I got to the finish line, Megan, Alison, Lauren, Terra, Jessica, Duncan, My mother and father-in-law, my sister-in-law, two nephews and my husband were there.  Can you say celebration??  We even got the super cool nasa blankets.  I felt like a rockstar.  A rockstar who still had to puke.  So I did.  On the side of 95.  Better late than never?

Just like this blog. :)

Oh and here's an update for you- I have put my name in for the New York Marathon.  I find out in April if I am in or not.  Wish me luck?  Yeah, that one.


Fall Festival

Every year my family has the awesome tradition of getting together and celebrating the fall.  Some people call that Halloween, but as a collective group, we dislike Halloween imensly.  Why?

Here are a few reasons.  Family, feel free to chime in with any additions to the list.

1. Its a secular and unholy mess
2. Masks
3. Never coming up with a costume  idea until 2 weeks after Halloween every year sucks
4. I'd rather not participate in a holiday where women dressing up as things such as slutty babies, slutty hand weights or slutty hair plugs

Any which way you cut it, we are not huge fans of Halloween.  So instead we got together hung out, made cookies, ate stew, carved pumpkins and enjoyed the sweet boys!  Here are a few pictures of the gang. Enjoy!


Jazzercise... it still exsits!

In my never ending search for ways to burn calories in ways that don't feel like working out, I decided to check out one of my mother's old favorites.  Jazzercise.

That's right. I did Jazzercise. And I didn't even have to use a time machine.

My friend Jennifer's mother is aaaaaaamazing.  She is such a sweet woman and is always helping me in my fat-loss journey.  Regardless, she invited me to ride with her to jazzercise at 6am on Monday.  That's right. 6 am. If you know me AT ALL you know that I am conscious for one 6:00 a day, and only one.  So I got up at 5:30 and rode over to my friend's house. Once I got there we jetted across town to the studio.  After signing in the sweating began.

Now don't get all pius thinking that just beucase I am fat, I was sweating and you and your size 2 tush would do anything else.  No no no.  This was a great class!  Most of the music is actually on my running play list.  I was so surprised!

At the end of the club-like dance session (minus male stares and shots of sugary liquor) there was a session of weight lifting.  This is what separated the women from the senior citizens.  I'm lying. I used the same weights as the 75 year old in the corner.  It was 6:00am!  Leave me alone.

Regardless, it was a fun and a was calorie burn. I would recommend it for all ages and physical fitness levels.  The only thing I don't recommend is going at 6:00 in the morning.  In fact the only thing I recommend at 6 am involves rapid eye movement, snoring, drooling and accidental flatulation.



4 Miler Fun!

So it was time for another race.  This year would be different. I would feel great, and BE great.  Right?  Kind of.

The 4 miler started like almost any other race morning for me; at 3:45 in the morning. Once Lauren and Tara got up (a few hours later), we got on the road.  You see, the Charlottesville Woman's 4 Miler is a closed course race.  This means that you drive onto the course, they close the course, you run the course, and they open it back up.  All that to say that you have to get there crazy early.  Note the puffy faces in the picture above.

Once we arrived, we parked and started jogging around the gorgeous hillside.  At that point I started to feel yucky.  I mean throw-up yucky.  UGH.  This was supposed to be MY race. This was the race that I started my journey on, and this was to be my triumphant return!  My big reveal as a less fat runner!


As we lined up to start the race Terra and I realized we needed to use the bathroom. And also realized we needed more photos to prove we were running a race.  Terra's FIRST RACE!!!  So Lauren snapped this gem.

Needless to say, 3,000 nervous females= a LONG line.

Eventually we got in our timing corral, which is when I had to separate from Terra and Lauren. Sadness.  That is also when the loneliness set in.  Aaaaand my Ipod died.

The end of the race felt further away than the finish line of the half marathon.  How?  Not sure.

Too bad I continued my only 4 Miler tradition of puking at the finish line.  The worst part?  This year it was not an empty lane in which to puke in.  I puked right next to a grandmother and her two grand kids to my right, and two guys around my age to my left.  The kids screamed, and the grandmother covered their eyes and pulled them away.  The guys were frozen out of mutual embarrassment. After I finished gifting the world with my vom, I stood up, wiped my mouth and saluted the two fellows who were mortified to be alive.

Great news though, I finished within my goal time!  Chunks or not. :) YAH!

Congrats to Terra on her first race and congrats to Wubby for being awesome!!!


Oh Snap

Its time again for another edition of stupid things I'm doing to inflict pain and waste time.

Kidding, but it is time to start half marathon training again. This weekend marked the first weekend that Lauren and I began our ritual long runs. This weekend was 6 miles and after eating too much crab over at my mom's house the night before and lets be honest - 4 beers, the run was not awesome. But it was not terrible.

Know what is terrible? My friend's mustache.

He grew a goatee and then decided it was time to chester it up a bit, so he cut it into a mustache. After weeks of being harassed about said facial hair, we decided after church that it was high time we capitalize on the creepy nature. So the husband and I searched the goodwill for the best clothing to fit the situation.

Three words- electric blue turtleneck. Take a peak at some of the portraits that were captured during our fine outing to the park. And don't worry, the kids were (legally) 100 ft away from him at all times.


Elias James

I am happy and proud to report that my sister gave birth (on her birthday) to my sweet sweet nephew, Elias James. Mom, baby and daddy did extraordinarily well and are now at home making memories. :)

While my photo blog is not quite up and running, and since the boy is family, I thought that I would post a few picture of him here.

Note: I bought a newborn crocheted sling... this was an experiment... don't judge!

First, here is a picture of he and his beautiful momma.

Little toes peeking out of the sling!

Lucky for Elias, his cousin is spending the whole week with him!

The sling was a bit long for our purposes. Thank goodness Elias' dad is an engineer, and we were able to make it work for a few shots. :)

Oh that sweet face!

The boy did such a good job letting me take his picture, but when I saw this face- one I had seen his father give before- I knew it was time to go in and cuddle.

Thanks Ali and Van for letting me play with your sweet sweet Elias!!!


The Half Marathon

I am so sorry that I have been so long since I last blogged! It has been a CRAZY month and a half. I will not bore you with the details, just know I am sorry its been a while.

Everything went very smoothly and I had a great run! I love that I can say that several weeks after the run. :) Above is a picture of the finish line the day before the race and then the shot of Lauren, Katie and I. Notice (because I didn't) that my shirt was supposed to say "HOPE" but the "PE" is covered by my running number so it just says "HO". Charming.

So here's the run down:

The night before the race Lauren and I drove up to Fredericksburg and settled into the hotel. Katie (Lauren's friend who also ran the 10 miler), went to the wrong hotel, but eventually met us to go to one of my favorite parts of the race. The EXPO! This is where you get your number, your timing chip and best of all- free stuff! Vendors are there trying to get you to try their products so it can be a real blast.
Unfortunately this was not the case with this Expo.

(Sad trumpet plays) WAA WAAAA WAAAAA. Lauren was not pleased either.

Regardless, we had a nice enough time and we got our great shirts,and even signed the half marathon banner. Side note: I wrote 'FAT RUNNERS RULE'. Take that skinny runners. Its in writing. Now its true.

After the less than awesome expo, we went to our more than awesome dinner pick. We gorged our selves on pasta and bread and waddled back to the hotel. The fact that we were running a half marathon the next day was beginning to sink in. Or maybe it was the indigestion from the 15 spicy meat balls I ate. Regardless, soon after coming back from the restaurant we went to bed since the race started at 7:30 and we had to catch a bus, and warm up before the race.

It was a tough nights sleep, but I woke up the next day at 4:00 rearing to go. My usual race morning routine is to get up as early as I can to make the run as late in my "morning" as possible so that I am not doing a "morning" run. Its a great plan minus the waking up at 4:00 part.

So I got up, did my morning stuff and got my yoga mat to begin my vinyasas in the hotel gym. Too bad it was locked. I ended up doing my yoga in the hall (because Lauren and Katie would not be fans of the breathing methods employed in yoga while they tried to sleep) next to the fire exit. It was magical.

After yoga I drank my coffee and journaled. In the bathroom. In fact, besides the hall hatha I did, I spent the majority of the morning of the half marathon in the bathroom.

Once the ladies woke up I went and got them breakfast and when they were ready, we walked across the road to the catch the bus. Every where you looked there were hunky marines directing you where to go. I thought about trying to get lost, but then I remembered the hunky civilian I had at home, and decided to mind my own business.

While on the bus to the start line, I started talking to the girl sitting next to me. She was wearing a tank top with the picture of a marine on it. She informed me that it was her fiance and that he had been killed last year in Iraq. I cannot tell you how crazy it was to see some one who was my age talking about their deceased loved one. It totally changed my perspective on the race.

The next thing that changed my perspective on the race was the free beer ticket I found out was attached to my racing number. JUMP BACK!

It makes the shirt 'Will Run For Beer' all the more important for me to buy.

The race started well until the first water station. There were just so many people trying to get water that at one point I saw a stack of cups and a bottle of water and just helped myself. That's when I lost Katie and Lauren. Its not like I was planning on racing with them any way. Lets be honest.

Mile 4-6 were real buggers. I was hurting but still motivated. I decided in these miles that I COULD actually do this, but not until I went to the bathroom. So around 6 or 7 I stopped to go to the potty where I met 2 people. One girl in front of me in line, Jessica and one guy behind me in line, Matthew? Mark? I cant remember. I should have blogged weeks ago.

Regardless, they ended up being my running buddies. Jessica and I were exactly opposite in our styles for the middle miles. I run and walk, run and walk and she just runs. This made it so that she caught up and passed me during my walks and I would pass her during my runs. She was a nice little pacer and it was great to have some one to laugh with without trying to run together and learn each others favorite colors. That was Marktthew's job.

Marktthew caught back up with me around mile 10 when we both were forced to stop to let an ambulance through. He had run the Marine Corp Half a couple times before so he was able to help me during the hellacious uphills.

No joke- the hills on this run were mean. Very very mean. Mile 9 and 10 were basically straight up. RUDE.

The finish line was the best part. It was a huge structure (seen in the first photo on expo day) with tons of people and music playing. I had a much less dramatic gazelle for the half marathon that I did the ten miler, but a gazelle none the less.

My finish time was somewhere around 2:40:00. Not crazy good, but nice for a first half! :)

All in all it was a great experience that I plan on repeating in November in Richmond. Any body with me??? :)


Caution: Too Much Information

Yeah yeah yeah, I ran a half marathon, I'll come back to that later.

For now I need to rant.

Why you ask? Because its between 6-8 on a Wednesday. WHY AM I NOT AT BIBLE STUDY? Oh that's right... I was at Bible study, but then I had an 'attack'.

I have no food allergies that I am aware of. No, I'm just not that lucky. I don't know what makes my body revolt against me. What I do know is that one iota of a sour tummy + one coffee/summer berry/cranberry chutney/dune grass scented candle and BOOM, I'm screwed. WHAT does 'Dune Grass' smell like any way???

How is it that I can run a half marathon and put my body through all sorts of crazy stress, but one sniff coffee flavored candle, one whiff Pomegranate Paradise reed defuser, one nostril of Nutty for Nutmeg air freshener and I am running for the edu de toilet. I need to invest in some nose plugs or some adult diapers because having to leave places because someone decides they want their house to smell good or because I accidentally walked down the wrong aisle at Hallmark, is getting incredibly annoying.

Why am I telling you this?

No seriously... why am I telling you this.

The only reason I can figure is because thinking about the topic for this ridiculous blog and bearing down on the steering wheel, was the only thing that was keeping me from making a mocha mess on my husband's leather car seats.



Poseidon and a Dash of Hope

So it looks like we are running a half marathon on Sunday. That's cool I guess.

I can honestly say that I am more looking forward to the road trip with Lauren and Katie than I am for the race. Sunday at about 1:00pm is when I will still be totally stoked that I ran/completed a half marathon, and will still able to walk down stairs. Until then, I am a mess. I am completely emotional about this race.

It could be that I am pregnant. JUST KIDDING!!!

Its mostly because I am super uber duper burnt out. I have been training for a good 8-9 months straight and to top it off, work is a bit of a crazy mess.

What does not help my confidence was this little gem:

Lauren, Mom, Papa and I went to Richmond to help celebrate my sister, Katie's birthday. My little sister turned 24. Man I feel old. :)

While we were there we were walking around Short Pump and there was a store called C28. It stands for Colossians 2:8 which states that we are in this world but not of this world. Its a really neat store where all of the merchandise is faith based. While we were there I got a shirt that I am planning on wearing for the race. It says 'hope'.

My feelings towards this race exactly. Hopefully I won't die.

While we were checking out, the guy behind the counter who had been helping us out the whole time asked if he could pray for us. We said we would love it and that we needed prayer mostly for the race. He asked how far the race was and we told him it was a half marathon. He looked at me and asked if it was a walk/run.

I'm sorry little man, did you just judge me? Don't make me come over that counter! I am glad I had a wine buzz or else I would have erupted like Poseidon coming out of an angry sea.

We quickly told him that no, it was not a walk/run. It was a race run.

Now that I think about it, I am not too sure why I am offended. I will be walking part of it... but STILL!


Needless to say, my confidence has been shaken. But come Sunday evening I will be a half marathon COMPLETER. More than you can say, Frodo.

If I don't post before the race, I will be sure to post pictures of our half marathon adventure! Until then, please pray. Pray hard for endurance, safety and completion.

Love and peace. Oh and a dash of hope.


The Fry Urge

Tonight was the first time in a LONG time that I have come home from work and had nothing to do. Granted, I could always be cleaning my house or plucking my Brooke Sheilds-esque eyebrows, but what I mean is that I did not have class or a work out. I had originally planned on being so productive. Instead I came home, thought about doing some yard work and instead watched 30 Rock. Seems like a great trade off to me.

Not working out made me super lazy, so when my husband got home and I asked him what he wanted for dinner, I was secretly hoping he would not request one of my amazing home cooked meals. What can I say? The man can't get enough of my of chicken, canned green beans and Velveta shells and cheese. All organic, mind you.

Jeff, being the mind reader he is, decided that he wanted to go out to eat. Now, if you have ever been trying to loose weight you know that going out to eat can be the biggest pit fall of all time.

I swear I act like a 7 year old at her birthday party every time we go out to eat. I want an appetizer, and I want the chicken finger basket. And bring my crayons stat. Don't make me spill my chocolate milk.

Somehow I rationalize that it is ok- no, that I deserve to eat 2 entire portion of any thing that is fried. WHY IS THAT? It is so ridiculous, but it is something that I have had to confront about myself. And by confront, I mean write about it on my blog so that I can be embarrassed enough not to do it.

So tonight I went online before we went out to see if the restaurant had any low calorie options. When I got to there, the low cal menu options were not on the regular menu. Really? You can't put them there because you want me ask for it, don't you? You want me to get down on my double knees and grovel for your low cal menu. Is that what you want, Mark the Waiter?


So I did. Like an alcoholic asking for a virgin margarita, I asked for the menu with low calorie options. Oh... but wait, they didn't have any printed up. Fat people normally just grunt and point their sweaty fingers and the pretty pretty pictures of the pretty pretty cheeseburgers. I get it.

So Mark the waiter, who was surprisingly helpful for someone who is yet to know the pain of slowing metabolism, assisted me in putting together my own "smart eating" dish.

SIDE NOTE- Jeff and I did not go to dinner at 5:00, but there was still a shockingly high number of old foggies there. One sitting directly to my left decided that he was going to take off his shoes to at the dinner table. WHAT???? I can't wait to get old so that I can do crazy ish and get away with it. 10 bucks says he would have made a stink and yelled/whistled through his dentures about his bunions should someone have actually complained. Gross.

Any way- all in all it was a small victory for me, but I know I will always crave french fries. Even bad french fries are good french fries.

SIDE NOTE #2- for those of you (my aunt, my sisters, my mom, and NONE of my friends- topic for another time) who check this frequently, I am sorry for not posting. WORK IS CRAZY. I feel like I am scrapping by until the half marathon is over, or I until get fired.

SIDE NOTE #3- I am cutting off over 12 inches of my hair off tomorrow! No more redneck hair for me! I am donating to locks of Greene County, I mean love. Locks of Love. Check it out here. I'll post pictures tomorrow!


Fat Brackets

Today I went for a run. It was terrible. I honestly think that the stress of my job is wearing on me hard enough to affect my runs. Today, my boss might as well have been actually riding me during my run. Figuratively, he's already there.

Regardless of how my run went today I will be doing the half marathon. I will not, however, be doing the Richmond marathon in November. I need a slight, to very long break from races longer than... well, the distance to the fridge.

I must also admit that I am a bit incensed with a a certain aspect of races which has aided in my decision to skip the November race.

This certain aspect is known as the age bracket.

Most races show you your half way time, your finish time and your rank within your age bracket.

I get it... you're 85, you're running the half marathon and you want to be able to know how well you did within your grave, I mean age group. Well, listen here, Myrtle... you 1) Should not be up this late 2) Have obviously had more experience than I have 3) Will STILL most likely kick my butt, happy?

WHY do races insist on doing age brackets? All of the other 24 year old ladies that are running this race are in their prime! Well, you know what, Age Bracket? I just started running, and I happen to be carrying a little junk. Alright? There I said it. I don't like age brackets because I think they should be replaced by fat brackets.

I am much slower than you because you are skinny. You try strapping on 40 pound cankle weights and then go running. Sound fun? Welcome to hell.

Any way... all I am asking for is to know how much faster I am than the people who weigh the same as me. I know I can't beat Susie Skinny-Jeans (its hyphenated so she didn't loose her identity when she got married) who has been training her whole life and is "naturally thin". I want to know how I did against Carrie Chunkamunk (she's of Eastern European heritage). Give me that ranking! I promise, I would do more races then!

You know what I hear when people say they are Naturally thin? "Unnaturally born from the womb of the dark lord himself." Yeah... you're the spawn of Satan if you have never had a weight issue. Tell me I am wrong. Go ahead....

I don't believe you. Lucifer teaches his offspring to lie.

For those of you who are not naturally skinny and have to try, but are still a size zero, I should admit here and now that I probably have a dimply leg up on you when it comes to races. You see, I have actually eaten the night before the race, and the night before that, thereby fueling me more effectively than the hot water and cucumber gorge fest YOU had the night before the race.

So to close, here is a list of reasons being a fat runner sucks

1) more wind resistance
2) additional friction
3) it's too embarrassing to be seen in running shorts, so I you can bet I am sweating to death wearing my 'sporty capris'
4) it's no where near Christmas, but yet you can't help but think the phrase "bowl full of jelly" when you see me

So give me fat brackets and make me feel better! I want to know how much faster I am than those who are actually my competition.

(Cue the dramatic bag pipes)

Give me weight brackets or give me body glide!


Fiber Baby

Right now I have taco baby. That's right. It's not a human fetus, no no no. Its a love child of another kind. One made of corn tortilla, grade something beef, cheese, lettuce and tomato. Glory of glory.

Don't get it twisted though, food babies are not all pleasant. Most are uncomfortable. They shorten your lung span, and most kick back. Hard. Like watching Avitar in 3D, these babies can also make you nauseous. The best way to avoid unwanted food babies is to abstain from stuffing yourself. No other method other than this is 100% affective.

As I am so obviously on the cusp of non-fetus baby research, I must tell you that there has been a new species spotted. This species similarly wreaks havoc on the body, but there is no glory to be had in the art of consumption. Much like getting pregnant from a toilet seat.

I have named this, the fiber baby.

No joke- I ate ONE fiber bar and I walked around the rest of the day with a waddle and my hand on the small of my back. I have never been so bloated in my life.

So take this warning- if it has more than 8 grams of fiber and is no bigger than an egg, don't do it. Its just not worth it.


The Ten Miler

The big one.

The killer race from Hades.

The whole reason I have been training.

Holy crap.

The day before the race I was a bucket of nerves. How could I run 4 more miles than I did last weekend when I almost had to be dragged over the finish line?

Man, this sounded like a really good idea 6 months ago.

I woke up to my alarm at 4:45am on race day, WIDE awake. This had been my plan, mind you. I figured since I hate morning runs I would wake up as early as possible to make the 7:45 as late in my day as I could. Brilliant? I thought so.

I woke up, washed my face, brushed my teeth, got my running gear on, and headed downstairs. All without waking the husband. I deserve and award.

I ended up doing everything you are not supposed to do on race day. I drank coffee, I had breakfast, I worked out. I am not even kidding you, I was drinking a glass of water and reading a running book about how you should not drink water right before the race. HA. I laugh in the face of convention. Not really, I actually got pretty nervous about the repercussions.

When Lauren and her friend Katie picked me up I was running around my cul-de-sac like a hamster on a wheel. I had already been on my bike and done several sun salutations. AHH! Total freak out mode.

I started to calm down while we were driving there because there was no turning back at that point. Unless I wanted to tuck and roll. And lets be honest, I would end up only messing up my face. The money maker if you will.

When Lauren, Katie and I got to the start line we had only moments before the race started. Some of us are nervous pee-ers. :) When the gun went off we stood there for a while since we were back with the 10 minute mile folks.

I know, I know... I should not have started there. I just wanted to be with the girls for the first part of the race. I was not about to start alone. I would have plenty of alone time during the race. Miles and miles of heavy breathing, leg aching, flubber rubbing loneliness.

Over the bridge and up the first hill I began to lose sight of them. Ohhhh well. I knew this race was for me to finish, not win. In fact, I don't think I will ever run a race with winning as the goal. Unless its a kids race, at which point I will rely of my length of stride and elbows to win.

At mile 4 I passed my guidance councilor from high school yelling out the gun time. I was right on track for an 11 minute mile. I could not have been happier.

Although my ultimate goal was to run the race and finish with breath in my lungs and a beating heart, I really wanted to finish between 2 hours and 2:15:00. 11 minute mile put me ahead of that goal, so overall, I was pleased.

At mile five I ended up walking a bit. And by a bit I really mean it. I only walked for 30 seconds my first stint and after that, only accumulated about 5 minutes of walk time. Go fat girl, go fat girl, GO! :)

Speaking of fat girls... I was expecting to be surrounded by all skinny ho bags and jerks, but there were a few people who were my size. WOOT WOOT! Not all of us chubbers are lazy Cheetos eating sloths. Represent!

The worst part of the race was running down West Main. I seriously felt alone. There was one man that I was keeping pace with, but other than him I did not see many people. I don't know if that was because my vision was becoming tunneled or if I was truly alone. Either way, it was rough.

The bright point was when we were coming back up the corner, passing the chapel, crossing the bridge on McCormick and finally seeing my 'old faithful' course. This was where I hit my stride and starting going a little too fast for my own good, but I did not care.

'Old faithful' was the course that Lauren and I started running way back in October of last year. Unbeknownst to us, it was the first 2 miles and the last mile of the 10 miler. That meant, our finish line for the runs were were doing, was going to be our finish line for the 10 miler. Holy crap, it worked out perfectly.

I knew the last hill and I knew the last bridge, and then I saw it. Unlike the 10k, I could actually see the finish line.

As I was running towards it, I started to get super emotional. There were a ton of people cheering and hanging out. I saw my 'running coach', Jen, and that's when it started. I passed her and I engaged the gazelle. I gazelled the mess out of that finish line.

My gazelle is just super long strides that carry me uber fast. Its my modified sprint. Its ridiculous looking but highly effective.

When I crossed the finish line I saw my family and I just started crying. LAME. I know... but I was just so happy. My husband had even brought me flowers! It was amazing. I had run the 10 miler, only had 5 minutes of walking , had very few doubts along the way, got flowers at the end and had finished in 1:53:07.

But in true ten miler tribulation form, I had a close family friend tell me that she too had trained and run a ten miler, and just didn't feel like it was worth it. Really??? Whatever. It was totally worth it to me.

I just hope the half-marathon follows the pattern of the 10 miler and NOT the 10k.

Well, off to do my long run. :)

Fat Brackets and Fiber Babies
Crystal and Steve's engagement session




Hello all!

This weekend was the 10k. For those non-runners out there, that is 6.2 miles. My goal was to run this in 65 minutes. Throughout the week it felt like there were many things "keeping" me from reaching this goal.

This past week was what I would describe as the perfect storm. 3 out of the 4 programs that I work on had major projects due on Friday. I am technically only allowed to work on these projects on 4 days of the work week. Confused? No need... just know that I had more to do this week than Ryan Seacrest and Donald Trump put together. Scratch that... bad reference. I just had a lot to do. Enough that everyday I was at work by 7:30 and ending my day around 8-8:30. I was exhausted. This made for bad sleeping, bad work outs and poor eating choices.

Pizza isn't proper fuel? Could have fooled me this past week. 65 minutes was becoming less and less likely.

As I planned and packed for this upcoming weekend I just kept praying over the race. In church right now we are talking about not putting God in a box. Let's just say, if there is one thing I need to do more with my running it is to understand that my training can only take my buddah belly as far as... probably 4 miles, then the rest is God.

So the crazy crazy week finally came to an end as I plopped my tush in my sister's car and we zoomed off to Richmond. We went to the expo which was a TON of fun! There were a bunch of great vendors there. Everything from Nip Guards (not kidding) to free Powerade.

The tee shirts were phenomenal. There were several I enjoyed:
1. Toe nails are for sissies
2. Will run for beer
3. If you find me on the ground please drag to the finish line
5. In my dreams, I am Kenyan
6. Running won't kill you, you'll pass out first
7. You don't have to go fast, you just have to go
8.This seemed like a good idea 3 months ago
9. I am only doing this for a picture on facebook
10. Does this shirt make my butt look fast?

...and the one I bought... "If it weren't for me, you would have nobody to pass". A little self deprivation on a shirt. My kind of gig. :)

All in all it was great. We even ran into Lauren's room mate from college who we were planning on starting the race with. It was great! She even told me she read my blog and thought it was funny!! I won't lie, I think my face got just about as red as the Powerade I was drinking.

After the expo we went to dinner with Ali, Van, Katie, her husband Dan, (who I still think could have taken down the five pound calzone challenge easily). We proceeded to gorged ourselves on pasta, calzones and everything Italian. Needless to say, this was not as wise of a choice as it could have been. At least I refused the ice cream at the end of the night. A good idea seeing as I have suddenly met my worst fear. Lactose intolerance.

I would not call it intolerance. I would say it is more like a lactose disapproval.

After the long night of finger swelling/finger licking good food, we went home and eventually went to bed. I slept like a baby. Like a giant chubby baby with a big crawl the next day. I woke up in the same position I had gone to bed in. Never a good sign.

We ate some breakfast, kindly provided by the Whites, and went on our way. We were dropped off one block from the indoor bathroom facility and the start line. What could be better on race day but walking as little as possible? Let's not make it annnny harder on ourselves. 65 minutes was going to be hard enough as it was.

So finally the race started and we were off! Well Lauren was. I felt like I was sucking on a lead pipe. Oh did I forget to mention that it was 30 DEGREES???? It was not a fun feeling.

Lauren acted as my pace car and she kept in front of me yelling out directions. "Breathe!" "Run!" and my favorite "No! Stop trying to sit down!"

Lauren was my saving grace. I wanted to hurt her on several occasions only because she was so chipper and nice, encouraging and wonderful. Gross.

I was just not having it. I was waiting to break through my mental wall, but instead I just sat onto of the wall. Juuuuuuust sat there swinging my cankles over the edge. Grrrrr...

Finally we got to mile 5 and I turned to Lauren and said "I am not doing the 10 miler". To me, its a feeling similar to when you are watching a scary movie. You wonder why you are doing this to yourself and are trying desperately to remember to remind yourself NEVER to do this again. I guess Lauren knew I was having some issues so she wisely shelved the issue by saying "we'll talk about that later".

Again, mile 5 proved to be tough because that was when I realized that I was going to walk. I had had it, and my legs had had it, and my lungs, well if they were there, they had had it too. 65 minutes was not going to happen and I had resigned myself to it.

All I remember was starting to walk and my legs trying to continue running, making for a strange kick step that lasted for a good 5 seconds. Soon, becuase Lauren could no longer hear my heavy labored breathing or cursing, she turned around to find me, only to see me walking. Another gem I won't soon forget is her yelling at me; "30 seconds!!!!!" She swears she said nicely. I liken the sound more to a banshee or a ring wraith. You say potato...

As we neared the six mile mark (and the angels sang) Lauren alerted me to the fact that we could see the finish line, but if we were going to hit our goal of 65 minutes we needed to pick it up. Sure enough I could see the banner in the tree line marking the finish line. I looked down at my feet to be sure that they were still in fact feet, and had not turned to 70/30 ground chuck. When I looked back up I could not see the finish line. It was no where to be found. No mark, no sign of the end. "I DON'T SEE IT!!!!" I was distraught. I had a glimpse and now I was unsure I was even as close as I had once thought.

Finally when we did cross the finish line. And no, no one had moved it as I may or may not have previously thought.

I was ecstatic. Until Lauren let me know that we had come in at 66 minutes.

I guess that's what you get when you walk, I thought to myself. I guess a silly race does not matter really, and at least I finished, right?

When the official race results came out I was a little shocked by the time.


65 minutes to the second.

God is calling me to take him out of that box. How about you? :)


No more monkies jumping on the bed

So my mom called and she said I need to be nicer to myself on my blog.

I took a deep breath preparing myself to explain to my mother about the art of comedy, but first she interrupted me and told me that I could still be nice and make it funny. Well - I guess I'm just not that good. But Momma, here goes.

I've got good news! I'm skinny and fast and AMAZING at photography.

It might be best to stop reading here, Ma. :)

Ok- in all honesty, I am getting faster! I ran 5 miles tonight in under 53 minutes. A new personal best! I am just so pleased that I had a good run before this weekend's race. THIS WEEKEND!

The Monument Ave 10k is THIS THIS THIS weekend and I cannot wait!! Can you tell? Lauren and I will be going down to the expo on Friday night and then we will be having a slumping party with my other suster, Ali in her super awesome new house. Don't be jealous that you don't know what that means. And don't be dirty either.

Ugh... I am just rull antsy about getting the race started and over with. But mostly over with.

I have been thinking... what is going to happen to my blog once I am done with the 10k, 10 miler and half marathon? This race season has come so quickly that I had not really thought ... how can this blog sustain itself without stories of packing a size small shirt and standing in the gym's changing room stretching it for 20 minutes before I could come out? Or stories of accidentally leaving my workout pants at home, rendering me stranded with only a pair of jeans to run in? Holy chafing, Batman!

Oh dear...

I guess I will just have to come up with some other ridiculous goal that chubbsters are not supposed to accomplish. How about actually fitting into the size small shirt? Or perhaps going down slides at public parks.

In all reality I think I may just focus on my photography.

Oooooh speaking of photography- the engagement shoot this weekend was so fun! It was a BEA-utiful day in Hampton and I met my bride and groom outside of a coffee shop for a fun outdoor shoot. I love it when my couple shows up looking smokin' and these two were no exception. I should have a sneak peak up soon!

For now, it's off to bed to dream of the race. The finish lines, the unflattering tan lines, and back fat sweat lines.



Hope and a Prayer

The past couple of weeks have felt more like a back slide than any remote form of progress. I did not run for one whole week due to a rouge nine miler that maimed my legs. Even though I have been back to running for part of a week now I am still mentally back to where I started. The days of Mrs. Running Fatty Fat Fatness. Everything is just so sluggish.

I really had had a break through in my mental mileage barrier. When starting out, I was only able to run one mile straight. Then I went up to two, and then three, and then three and a half, four and then finally four and a half. All the while my sister is upping hers by 7 miles each week. She's actually Amelia Erharted her way around the world. We lost her in the Bermuda Triangle. Shame.

After I got over the four and a half mile mental block I lost my nerve over two terrible nine milers. One sucked because my shoes were filled with concrete, and the second sucked because of the intense pain in both my shins and my hip.

So, now I am back to running. Good timing huh? 2 weeks until the 10k and 3 weeks until the 10 miler. Craaaaaaaaaap. Some times I am so excited my knees actually get weak. Then other times, I am so nervous I want to beat up my former self for signing up for these things. Did you know races cost money?? Yeah. The fact that I both signed up and paid makes me want to beat up my former self twice.

I just hope that my mental capability comes back in time for the races. I would hate to have to ride on my sister's back during that 10k, and on a stranger's back for the 10 miler. Scratch that. I would not hate to hitch a piggy back. THEY would hate to give me one.

The only reason I would pick on a stranger for the 10 miler is because Lauren and I are not running that one together. While we are both running it, we are not going to be in the same pace. The 10k we are running together because its cute and we thought it would be fun to use it as a practice for the big ole scary 10 miler.

I have decided that perhaps I will be running these races simply on a hope and a prayer. I am always going to be able to do SO much less on my own that I can through Christ. Plus, I decided to name my legs Hope and Prayer.

Upcoming blogs: More 10 Miler Tribulations and an Engagement session shot in Hampton, Va!


Watching of the Weight

I've got news for you. I'm fat. I'm talking, buying two seats in the airplane/my wedding bands look like silver pigs in a blanket/try and pass me without giggling, fat.

I have no one to blame but my husband. He just loves me too much for who I am. I wish he would just start making disparaging remarks towards me. Start ending every hug hug by pinching the extras around my midsection. But the man is just so accepting. Straight pisses me off.

As you know (since you are a daily reader of my blog and all), I am running which is great. I am building endurance and all that crap, but the weight is just not coming off. So I joined Weight Watchers. I have seen people that I know be extremely successful with this method. When I say successful I mean loosing 100+ pounds. So when my doctor mentioned that he thought Weight Watchers was I good idea I decided to go for it. Right after I took my eye daggers out of his groin.

My company does a great thing in providing us with a meeting at work during work hours so there is really no excuse for me not to go. I mean, who doesn't want to sit around with all of the tubby tubbies from their office talking about what may or may not have been the catalyst for last Tuesday's sausage binge?

I walk through the cubes yelling "Fatty fat is going to fat class! Who's joining me???" Yeah, my meeting mates don't like me very much.

To be honest I get pissed at these meetings. There are people in there who loose weight like gang busters and openly admit that they are not working out. Yet here I am running 12-20 miles a week and not loosing anything. SAY WHAT?

So, you're telling me that 'Christi Cubeland' looses 5 pounds because she cut out soda and starting walking to the bathroom instead of using her catheter, but because I ate an extra piece of rye bread while running on the treadmill with a fully armored Marine on my back, I don't loose anything? I almost turned over the table. Wendy the weigh-in lady almost lost her life.

Joking aside I have lost some weight. Good thing because it was going to be a real show if my effort had not shown up on the scale.

Why, do you ask, am I bearing all? I hope it will inspire, but also embarrass myself enough to continue to lose. Oh but mostly to make you feel better about yourself.

You good now? :)


Nothing much...

I don't know where this blog will go. I am sitting in the guest bedroom/dump watching American Idol. I'm not impressed. Every time I mute it and sing over them, I am not impressed.

So. Since I don't have much to say I will tell you about my hair. Random? Shut up.

Chapter 1:

I am born... with a black mohawk. Years later, my hair was so blond it was white, and in the summer, my lazy (then skinny) sticky finger kid-self allowed the chlorine to turn it green. Listed below are the hair styles I've had through the ages:

-Friar Tuck
-HUGE bangs (and not the ones that are now in style)
-the 'Little sister with a pair of scissors on Grandma's porch' special

As you can see, its been all downhill since the mohawk. Since I had long boring hair most of my life, when I went to college I started dying my hair. First it was red, then brown, then black, then blond blond. I loved having it ever color under the sun and in the fashion of Gilmore Girls, my favorite show, my best friend and I dyed our hair hot pink two weeks before graduation. It was the last time we would be able to do that type of crazy things, so why not?

Before Jeff and I got married I asked him what hair color he wanted me to have for our wedding. It was totally a loaded question. I'm a jerk...

All of my sisters hair became darker and darker brown as they grew up so I have noooo clue what my hairs real color could be. To find out, I am growing it out. My hair is down to the middle of my back, half of it blond and half of it some natural hybrid which, all in all, looks like an old broom. I am super excited to be donating it to Lock of Love, thought I doubt they will take it. I don't think even the sickest, baldest, vainest chick would wear a wing made out of this straw. It looks like the strawberry shortcake doll's hair that my sister used to shove up her nose when we were kids.

Regardless, this means that soon I will be chopping of all of my hair, highlighting my huge cheeks and my killer chins. Any thing for cancer kids, right? I just hope it hightlights my sparkling uni-brow and glowing personality.


Robin and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

Does any one remember the book "Alexander and the Terrible Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day"?

Well, this week was Robin's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week.

It all started out so promising! I finished a long run and went to get a massage. What could be so terrible about that? Oh nothing except for the next following days collectively made me consider defenestrating myself.

The massage was great while it lasted, but after my massage I started to get sore. I believe I mentioned something about that in the last post. Well it got worse. I was sore, I was cramping, I was moody and a little hungry. I know that it has nothing to do with be dehydrated because I am very diligent about drinking water. Lauren and I have competitions to see who can drink the most water. In fact, the majority of my calorie burn a day comes from going to the bathroom and the subsequent bathroom activities. Regardless, I have spent all week speculating why this is. It has gotten me no where.

On Monday I thought surely it must be some sort of vitamin deficiency that was kicking my tail. Not the fact that I am a lady of size trying to run distances this body has never seen. No, no, that couldn't be it! So to beat this so called vitamin shortage, I started taking a woman's one a day. I had an early morning meeting so I brought some oatmeal with me to work to make afterward. This was a FAILURE as I was somehow able to bring the oatmeal to a roaring boil in a microwave that refuses to warm my coffee or my lean cuisine pizza all the way through! The bowl of oatmeal was less than 1/4 full after it had spilled its contents in the microwave. I was the forced to clean it up there by forced to touch other people's food particles. There is little on this earth that I hate more than touching old food particles. Especially because I know whose old marinara and meat sauce it is in there. And I know that I cant say anything to him. He scares me. But if I could I would also tell him that making decaff at 7:30 in the morning is not funny.

ANY WAY... so I ate my 1/4 a serving of oatmeal and popped my vitamin thinking that perhaps I would just run with the low cal breakfast with a smile. Whelp, there was not much smiling when about thirty minutes later when I was running through cube-land to the bathroom. The only thing worse than puking is puking at work.

Here's why:

You know those people who hide out in stalls waiting for everyone to leave so that they can drop the kids off? The stall stalkers? The loo lurkers? Well, when you are hovered over the toilet for multiple minutes and people don't know you are there, you hear some stuff. Really horrible stuff. Enough to make you sick.

Regardless, I had to leave work and take a nap until I felt better. Then I had to stay at work until 6:30 that night to make up the time. Needless to say I did not get my run in that night, but the next night was 8 miles. I figured with some rest and relaxation from the night before, I would be up to it. You see, since my massage I had been wearing shoes that served more of an orthopedic function than they did fashion, figuring that this might be a good way to make my legs less sore. I also thought that icing at work would help too. It was more of a nuisance when the bag popped and spilled ice cold water all over my jeans. It was also a conversations starter.

The icing nor the peasant shoes helped the situation of the dreaded right mile stroll. When the third mile of the run came around I felt as though my tibia and fibula were being flossed with electrified barbed wire. I tried pushing through the pain but it was to no avail.

I have been having this pain in my legs all week and it is only now subsiding. I am not sure what I did to my massage therapist, but I am paying for it!

Want to hear the last bad thing that happened this week? BESIDES the Canadians winning the gold in Men's hockey? Don't get me started on Canada... it gets ugly.

Any way, the last bad/sad thing was that I was going to have to run a Valentines Day couples race alone. It was supposed to be the weekend before VDay but they had to reschedule due to the weather. So when it was rescheduled my sister/partner could not do it! So I contacted the race people to see if I could possibly run alone, and they said that they prefer I run with a partner since its a couples race. Thanks. That makes me feel like even less of a loser. So after asking co workers, siblings and friends I just opted out of the whole freaking farce of a race. Jerks. I bet the tee shirt was crappy any way!

Ooh I forgot one more bad thing! And perhaps the most egregious. I was given a bagel from bodos that was cream cheese instead of chicken salad. I adore chicken salad. Look at me. But I HATE cream cheese. Its a good thing I had a co-worker who was hungry and likes devil's puss, I mean cream cheese.

SO... here's hoping that this next week does not resemble any other childhood books titles. Except maybe "Oh the Places You'll Go", or "Robin's Husband get a New Job and She Gets a Proper Massage". That one is a classic and the illustrations are dynamite.


Ten Miler Tribulations: Part 2

After officially getting out of the snow and stitches Lauren and I are back with a vengeance. In fact, we ran/completed 9 miles on Sunday! I must say that I have not been this sore in a while. In fact, the last time I was this sore I was trying out for lacrosse in high school. It's the kind of sore where you lower yourself halfway down to the toilet, then release praying the rest of the way down that:
a) the plopping sound your bare butt makes will not permanently scar some freshman/co-worker too much
b) you don't miss.

9 miles! That's only one mile less than the insane race we signed up for that sparked the majority of this blog! Now I know that I can do it. I did not die doing 9 miles, therefor I can do one more. Well, this weekend I could have done one more mile. Last weekend was a different story all together.

I was at my in-laws house and luckly they have a treadmill in front of TV. I promised myself on the trip down that I would give the 9 miles I was due a try. All the while I was thinking (quietly to myself so my other personalities did not hear) "4 miles is just as good as 9 miles, right? Make the lines a little curvier and you have a 9." No? Anyone? Jerks.

I told my in laws immediately what I had planned so they could hold me to it. And that they did! I ended up completing the mileage but it was NOT pretty. My body was just not having it, not for one second. My legs felt like there were sticky finger, ankle biting kids around them. My lungs you ask? Oh I would liken that feeling to wearing a laced up corset. A corset made for Scarlett O'Hara.

I FINALLY finished the 9 miles in the time it would take my grandmother to understand and appreciate the purpose of twitter. I am not kidding when I say it took forever! I am sure you are thinking... "well my goodness! By now, she has been training for five months. She writes ALL the time about her running triumphs, surely it was not that bad."

HA! Just ask my father-in-law. Why you ask?

Allow me to set the scene:

Sitting at the dinner table after my run, I was trying to stay on the conversational side of consciousness. At some point during the meal someone, somewhere said something about my run, to which my lovely father-in-law asked, "Oh, so you did run part of it? I thought you walked it all."

I was about to cry, laugh, and slip out of my chair under the table, all at the same time when I decided to take the less dramatic route. I said nothing to my father-in-law but rather looked at my husband and with my eyes bulging out of their fat laden eyelids I mouthed, "DID I RUN?!??!?!?!?!?"

At least this week it would be hard for him to deny that I ran 'part' of it. I finished in under 2 hours. And if you follow my blog (pretend to follow my blog... just for a minute? Thank you) you may remember that is well below 2:39:35. WOOT WOOT!

So... to end the blog, I will leave you with a bit of exciting news!

I am officially signed up for..............


Uh... double up uh uh! [rap reference, Mom]


Joshua. Oh Joshua.

If you need an introduction to my nephew Joshua, I suppose blog #2 would be a good place to start. Or you can simply feast your eyes on the pictures that I took of him over the weekend. I mean SERIOUSLY. This kid puts Gerber to shame. Duncan (the other nephew not pictured here) and Joshua are going to be dualing it out 'Zoolander' style in a couple of years, or as soon as Duncan starts to walk. Which will be in two weeks according to my calculations and the fact that he is already teething, and going to school for his masters degree.

Ok... so without further delay a sneak peak (because I am falling asleep in front of the computer) of Joshua!Yes, those are carhartt overalls.

Just like Joshua... just chilling out.

The antique fire truck was found in Joshua's great-grandmother's attic! How perfect!

The rest of us were freezing, but Joshua was having a BALL!

I love my sister in law but sometimes she is so photogenic I want to... take more pictures. :)

Alright, I must go to bed... but I can't stop!!!! So I'll end with Uncle Rico. I mean Joshua's dad.

Goodnight all!


Motivation Tips

    Since the run I did tonight was not as far as it should have been, I decided to look up some motivational tips. Here is what I found online. In black are the real tips, below them in red are my thoughts. Enjoy.

    Motivation Tips

  1. Sign up for a race as soon as you feel up to it. Don't sign up for a race because your sister says so, because you are bored, or because in your wine haze it sounds like fun. Want to know the real reason I wanted to do my first race? Besides the tee shirt and the bumper sticker, it was because I wanted to go through the water station. Judge me. I don't care.
  2. Find a committed running partner. It is much harder to skip a run when you have someone else depending on you. Especially when your partner appears to run on some sort of alternative energy source.
  3. Remember that you will have plateaus in your progress and tough days along the way. Tough days? Like when you cover up the part on the treadmill that tells you how far you have gone because you think it will help you to run further if you are not staring at it the whole time? Then you uncover the distance-o-meter, whispering "come ooooon, at least 2 miles, at least 2 miles!" and read: 0.70? Next you drop to your knees on the still spinning treadmill, get thrown off of the back into an elliptical, all while hysterically screaming "its not worth it!!!!!". You mean tough days like that?
  4. It gets easier. Pray that.
  5. Accept and appreciate the fact that not every single run can be a good one. Accepted. Thanks.
  6. Be prepared to remove the words “can’t” and “never” from your vocabulary. Replace those words with "oh dear goodness" and "the race is ___ days away"
  7. Do not compare yourself to others. Run within yourself and for yourself first. That's actually really good advice.
  8. Don’t expect every run to be better than the last one; some of them will hurt. Like the run I did tonight where my big toe nail (although cut very short) seemed to hook on the top of my shoe for all three miles making it now a deep purple? Hot.
  9. Don’t think too much about it or you won’t do it. So true. Just keep your bag in your car, and keep driving to the gym. You'll get it done when you get there. Or you will walk in, realize you left your shoes at home and walk out. Its cool.
  10. Even a bad run is better then no run at all. Hahaha, sometimes I disagree. :)
  11. If you normally run with music try skipping it and listening to your feet to hear your pace and your gait. I tried this. Not because I was being creative or trying to challenge myself but because I am forgetful. I ended up wogging 8 miles without music. BAM! The fact that I had the promise of Jimmy Johns and the movie Ms. Congeniality didn't hurt either.
  12. Don’t be discouraged if you don’t experience weight loss immediately. No comment. Mostly because my hands are full stroking both my chins.
  13. Start a running blog and read other running blogs regularly. Oh, oh! Here's an idea! Read my blog!
  14. Running is not an excuse to triple your intake of doughnuts because runners gain weight too. Lies.



Bad Blogger

Ok, so my sister keeps telling me that I am a bad blogger for not posting in a while. Maybe its because none of you repsonded to my question about what Lauren and I should put on our tee shirts for the Valentines Day 5k. I wish I felt like you were being adequately punished...

More than any thing it is because I was away on my 1 year anniversary trip with the husband-face. So to hold you over, here is a picture of said husband face and my attempt to perfect sun flair. Oh and a list of things I should be blogging about.

Things I should be blogging about but am not because I want to watch Gilmore Girls and fall asleep early to wake up early and use our new exercise bike:

1. The really annoying lady at the gym that uses the stair master wrong
2. The fact that I am running 9 miles this weekend
3. Dan and Colleen's wedding pictures... almost done!
4. The crazy snow that is coming
5. My stitches. They really itch.
6. The trip to Annapolis
7. American Idol and all its retched glory
8. The tall tale of trying to steal the remote at the gym only to be thwarted by the workers. Not what you think...
9. MY NEW NIECE/NEPHEW!!! Coming to a White near you, August 2010!!
10. Vomit tacos



Are you ready to Neti?

For the past 5 days I have been sick. Sick sick sick sick sick. It started on Tuesday and is yet to end. First I came down with one ailment and while I was actively treating that, I came down with another. Yippee! This sickness is the one that Lauren got over Christmas. The one I so strangely refer to as "shark flu". This has created quite the problem in my training program. Instead of going to the gym, I wanted to go home and curl up, suck my thumb and have my mommy scratch my back.

We're close... get over it.

With the council of my both my sister and my super savvy and in-shape friend, Jennifer, I decided I should take it easy. My take on it was that I wanted to run. I wanted to be in the gym. So yeah, there is something wrong with me mentally as well.

Regardless, I just felt I needed to run, but knowing my mental capability I was certain I would run .5 miles, feel sorry for myself, and eat the gym.

So Thursday I rode a bike and lifted weights while Friday and Saturday I did nothing. Nothing but neti pot that is. Have you ever heard of the Neti Pot? OH my goodness. What a freakish contraption. Although illegal in most states concerned with sanitation, the great state of Virginia has been selling them like hot cakes since the shark flu struck. (It's not a real illness. Don't google it, Mom).

Because the Neti Pot (not unlike children) is better seen than heard, here is a picture my also sick husband took of me using this strange yet wonderful piece of not so modern machinery.

If you look too closely you will see a drop of snot-water falling out of my nose. Yes, thats the medical term for the substance. Normally the warm salt water goes in one nostril ('noscril' if you are of the Whitlow/Barnett persuasion) and begins to come out of the other side. The first time I tried it, I blacked out. But Jeff says that I was screaming "Oh dear God... I'm drowning" in a panicky voice. I doubt that.

So- all weekend I was dreading the 8 miles I owed the treadmill and realized that with all I had "going on" it would be best to just let that worry go. So when Lauren and I hit the gym tonight, I promised myself I would do as well as I could and stop when Lauren stopped. Thankfully she sprinted 8 miles while I wogged 6. 6 is better than none and I will get better. Oh yes, I will.

And if you are reading this wondering where the pictures of Colleen and Dan are, keep scrolling. Keep scrolling and God bless.


Colleen and Dan are Married- Sneak Peak

My husband's uncle Dan got married this past weekend and I was able to be one of the photographers there! Dan's wife Colleen did all of the decorating with a few of her friends. It was impressive!

Next to the cake all night was the cake topper from Dan's parents wedding. How cute! And the cake itself... well the top layer was carrot cake, the middle was vanilla and the bottom was chocolate. Something for everyone!

Colleen and Dan's wedding ended at the beach so I stole their flowers and took them out to the sand.

At the closing of the night I got this close little moment. :) Thanks so much Colleen and Dan for the great night and letting me be a part of it all! Plenty more to come!


8 Mile without Eminem

Monday marked a monumental day in my running life! Lauren and I ran 8 miles. 8 MILES!!! Well, she ran 8 miles, I wogged 8 miles.

By the way- whatever mental picture you have of me "wogging" is 100% right.

What I learned from this run is that the way you fuel your body has a HUGE impact on how your body preforms. For example- eating fast food to nurse your hang over is not going to help you the next day during your run. Let's just say I was running rull slow.

The worst part of the run was when it was over. Sound strange? If you have ever run a race or run long distances for the first time know what I may be alluding to. The extreme aching of your joints letting you know you just did something you body wasn't supposed to. The fact that if you bang your feet together accidentally you squeal with pain. Or the insane (how to say this sweetly) the running runs. The treadmill trots. The... you get the picture. BUT I tell you the runners high is almost enough to get you through it without rendering yourself cripple from the craps.

Next week is 8.5 and its only a matter of time before we do the full 10 miles! But first Lauren and I will be doing the Valentines Day 5k. I asked the husband if he would like to do it with me. I asked to be nice... :) We plan on making shirts and need help with ideas. Lauren think "Barnetts make the best lovers" is a little crude. So help us out by leaving a comment below!




The magic number for the next twelve weeks will be 2:39:35. That is the slowest time the ten miler was completed in for the 2009 race. I REFUSE to go any slower than that. No... I take that back, I REFUSE to not finish. I don't care how my cream filled innards have to move to get over that finish line it has to happen. An added bonus would be not being last. Eeeembarassing!

So... end of '09 recap.

Birthday- 2 feet of snow. Thanks mother nature. New camera equipment. Thanks Jeff!

Christmas- So fun! We survived the first married Christmas and got to spend it with both my family and Jeff's family.

New Years- May or may not have fallen asleep around 11:00. Jeff says he kissed me at midnight. I don't think that counts as consensual. Just saying...

Brad and Katie's Wedding- Jeff looked adorable in his tux! For some reason this wedding brought back BIG time memories of our wedding- which was almost a year ago. This was good and bad. I have now had 3 (count them - 3) dreams about doing my wedding over. In the dream I am actually knowingly doing my wedding over again. This last time was because I wanted to wear my hair down. And I wondered why there were only 10 dream people at the THIRD one... Even my dream guests are sick of me.

ANY way.

We have twelve weeks until the 10 miler! I say "we" because my sister and I are recruiting like mad! So far I have recruited every smoker and person on crutches I can find to join us at the race. I did mention I was trying to NOT come in last, right?

Over the holidays Lauren and I slacked off of our strict training schedule. Lauren was hellaciously sick with something we decided to call the Shark Flu. Yeah, its time to pick on another animal. While Lauren was sick I was... stuck in the snow? Traveling? Making up excuses not to run? Yeah, the last one.

The funny thing is is that I did not run for 10 days and I felt like I had been sitting on my tush eating twinkies, watching a TV show of other people eating twinkies for a month and a half. So in reality, we did not slack too bad, but boy did I feel it today! I am glad to be back and focused on 2:39:35.

Allow me to leave you with this one bit of advice. NEVER run in boy shorts. Ther gon gitcha.

Lemon out.