I DON'T SEE IT!!!!

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.

1:05:00

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.

Goodnight!

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)
-straight
-long
-unkempt
-the 'Little sister with a pair of scissors on Grandma's porch' special
-straight
-long
-unkempt
-straight
-long
-unkempt

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.