Confessions of a fat kid

I have a confession to make.

This is totally not related to running at all. It is related to eating, however, which is my other hobby, and since eating is nearly synonymous with nutrition, I figure we can let this one slide.

The other night I went grocery shopping and decided that I could get myself a treat. I’ve been doing pretty well with my training, and I promised myself that I would work hard that night (and I did).

I headed over to the bakery department. For those of you who don’t live in the vicinity of a Publix…my deepest regret for your loss. The Publix bakery department is amazing. We would have gotten our wedding cake there if Jae’s cousin wasn’t a master baker.

After perusing my options for a few moments, I settled on the yo-yo.

The yo-yo is a delectable treat. My friend Katey and I used to get them all the time. Then we decided that one each just wasn’t enough, so we would buy a dozen cookies and some icing and make them ourselves. Then we got old and our metabolisms slowed down. Now we drink wine and eat salads.

Anyway, I asked the baker for one, filled the rest of my cart with fruits, veggies, chicken and whole grains, and checked out.

At this point I should mention that I live literally three minutes from my local Publix. I can walk there. I have ridden my bike there on numerous occasions. So what possessed me to do the following, I’ll never know.

I unloaded all of my groceries into my trunk until only one bag remained in my cart. The bag containing that glorious hunk of sugar and chocolate.

I brought it into the car with me, turned on the engine, and popped open the lid. Immediately, my entire car filled with the deliciously sweet smell of frosting. My teeth were falling out of my gums just thinking about eating this.

Waiting was not an option.

I picked up my cookie sandwich with one hand and took a bite. It was all that I hoped it could be and more. It was gooey and satisfying, and the icing was spilling over the edge of the cookie. It was hot out, hovering near 90 degrees, and the chocolate was melting fast.

But I was eating faster.

And then it happened.

I dropped the cookie sandwich.

On my yellow dress.

Melty chocolate chips and icing fell all over my car, my hands, and my soft cotton dress. As I continued to drive, my steering wheel was covered in the sticky mess.

Ugh. This is what I get for not eating properly. Or just not being able to contain myself.

Oh well. It was totally worth it.

In other, less delicious, news, I started the 100 push-up challenge! Sort of. I did the initial test anyway. Are you ready for this totally embarrassing number?

Six.

OK, maybe that’s not so bad. But I think my form was way off. I think I could have done more, but on the last one I thought my knees hit the ground before I came back up, and I figured that counted as a disqualification.

My wedding is in a month! Exactly 30 days from today. So maybe I should stop spilling cookies all over myself and start doing more pushups.

It’s a beautiful breezy day here. A nice day for a run.

It's Gettin's Hot In Herrrre

The famous poet and scholar Nelly once said, “It’s gettin’ hot in herrre.”

Man, was he right.

This weekend, I went for a run around 3:50pm. True, this is one of the hottest parts of the day, but I run on a trail that is pretty shaded (or so I thought), and there was a nice breeze out. Besides, it’s just Florida. In April. How hot can it be, right?

Eighty-six degrees, that’s how hot.

That doesn’t sound that bad. It’s not even 90! But let me tell you, friends, 86 degrees is really freakin’ hot.

To make matters worse, about half way through the run, my iPod froze. Again. (Forget all the nice things I said about it before; I am soooo ready for a hardware update.)

So instead of focusing on the musical stylings of Me First and the Gimmie Gimmies, all I could think about was the sweltering heat. The sweat pouring down my face. The ever-approaching feeling that I was going to pass out and die from heat exhaustion, which wasn’t at all helped by the fact that I had just read an article on RunnersWorld.com about that very thing happening to someone who was in much better shape than I am.

But somehow I powered through and made it home, plopped on the floor, and begged Jae for a cold glass of water and an ice pack for the back of my neck. I cooled off quickly and felt really good; I had actually gone pretty far. Still, lesson learned: DON’T RUN WHEN IT’S HOTTER THAN 80 DEGREES.

Unfortunately, I live in the Sunshine State. It was 78 degrees on Christmas. So my window of opportunity for running in cool weather is very, very limited.

The way I see it, I have two options: early morning or late evening. The problem with early morning is…how can I put this without sounding totally lazy…OK, there’s no way, I guess I’m just lazy…on Sunday, I woke up to the sound of the ice cream truck driving through my neighborhood. Think about that. The ice cream truck doesn’t exactly make a breakfast run (although that would be glorious). As it is, I have to be at work at 8am. I love that I live 10 minutes from my job, so I can leave at 7:50am, meaning that I can get out of bed as late as 7:40 if I really want to. Usually I get up around 7:30. And even that’s a struggle. You’re telling me that you want me to try and get up at 6:15 just so I have time to eat, run, and shower? And what about later, when I’m up to 15 miles? My wake-up calls are going to be at 5am!! No way.

So last night I gave the late evening run a try. I headed out around 8pm. All was well. The air was cool and crisp, the sun was low in the sky, and I was feeling great.

Until the sun went below the horizon and the hobos started emerging from their respective hiding places all around Kapok Park. Yikes. Maybe I waited a little too long. The good news is I had to pick up the pace because the path along the rail road track isn’t lit, so I got some nice sprints in at the end of my last interval.

Perhaps 7:45pm is the ideal time, for now at least. Once my distances improve, I’ll have to move to 7pm, but that might be too early still. Especially because by then it will be July or August and that is way hotter than April.

Who knew you had to have a meteorology degree just to be a runner?

I blame Jim Halpert.

Jim Halpert put my arms in Jello.

That's right, I said it. My favorite prankster from The Office, the ever delightful, always adorable Jim, put my arms in Jello.

There's no other explanation for it.

For those of you who are not fortunate enough to be fans of The Office (a situation I suggest you remedy immediately), here's a little background for you:



On one of my recent runs, I was adjusting the volume on my iPod when I happened to notice that my left arm was flopping up and down at a most unsavory rate. That fat sack of skin between my elbow and my armpit, which I like to call my "Hey, Sally!" waves and flaps in the breeze and with every undulation of my body.

So every time my foot hits the ground, my fat underarm bounces again. It's actually quite mesmerizing.

My only explanation is Jim Halpert. He snuck into my room in the middle of the night, knocked Jae out with a sleeper hold, and put my arms in Jello.





...OK. I have one other explanation.

I need to do some arm workouts.

As much as I love the idea of John Krasinski sneaking into my room in the middle of the night, knocking my fiance unconscious, and covering me in a surprisingly refreshing and highly underrated dessert, that is not the reason that I have such flabby arms. I just need to do some tricep extensions. Or bicep curls.

OR PUSHUPS!!

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I think I have decided to take on the 100 Push-Up Challenge!

I should admit that I've done a bit of research on this, and not very many people have actually finished the challenge. But some have, and even the ones that haven't have made it up to 50 or 60 at a time before they gave up. And considering that I can do about, oh, 15...on my knees...right now, I would say that's a pretty good goal to have. But I want to do real ones, on my toes. I haven't done my initial test, but my best guess for how many I can do is...3. Pathetic, but honest.

I think it will be good for me. Overall health and tone will help improve my stamina and make me a better runner.

Plus, with all the hypnotic undulation that's going on in my arms, I'm definitely going to run straight into a tree or a lamppost one of these days. And that wouldn't be good for anyone.

But, John, if you're reading this, please don't think that you're not welcome to come and wrap my arms in Jello any day. Because you certainly are.

Math lessons from the road

I learned an important math lesson on my run last night.

Two is twice as big as one.

So when I made the switch from one minute run, two minute walk intervals to two minute run, one minute walk intervals, I really felt the difference. It was a lot harder. But I also ran farther, so that was cool. It was also not cool, because my newfound distance put me on a path which included the only hills in Pinellas County. I’m trying to convince myself that this is a good thing, but my hips and gluts are currently telling me otherwise.

I almost didn’t go last night. I waited until 7:50 pm, when it was nearly too dark to leave. I kept thinking that I had worked harder than I needed to on Monday, so I could take a day off.

But I didn’t.

It wasn’t that I was looking forward to running; it’s that I wasn’t looking forward to not running, if that makes any sense. I didn’t want to come on here and admit defeat. I didn’t want to have to cross another day off my training schedule, knowing that I’d skipped actually skipped it. Part of me keeps thinking that these early days don’t matter. I can already run for two minute intervals. What really matters is the part when I start doing three milers, right?

Wrong. This is the part that matters most.

I also think I might be giving in and doing the Oldsmar Taphouse 5K.I really want to do it, mostly because I have two friends (see I’m A Pack Animal for more info on said friends) who are doing it, but also because it sounds like a heck of a lot of fun. But, there are two problems: one, I won’t be trained up in time, and two, it’s the weekend after my honeymoon. So not only will I have just taken a week off my training (aside from the hiking and mountain biking we plan to do in St. Lucia), but I will also have just taken two weeks off from my job at the adorable Pan y Vino in downtown Dunedin. The race is on a Friday night, and I’m just not sure if I want to give up another shift.

My other 5K race options are as follows:

The Rap River Run on June 13 in New Port Richey, FL. This poses similar problems to the Taphouse 5K, in that it’s the week after I get back from the honeymoon, so my training won’t be quite there yet. Plus I won’t have my posse with me. But the location is super convenient, just 30 minutes away. Still, it’s probably too soon, so it’s the least likely to win. We all know by know that I don’t like to fail, so I don’t want to do something I’m not ready for.

The Run Thru Hell on June 21 in Tampa, FL. Very convenient, but again still a little too early. The hurricane makeup date is July 25, though, which would be perfect. But I don't think it would be fair to the rest of the state of Florida to hope for a hurricane. Not to mention that, in the 10 years I've lived here, every time there's been a hurricane threat, it's never actually made it through Tampa.

Citrus Summer Showdown on July 11 in Inverness, FL. True, it’s nearly two hours away, but registration is free, and I’ll get to run with a bunch of hicks. It might be a small race, though.

Moss Park Forest Run on August 1 in Orlando. This is probably going to be the winner. OK, it’s two hours away. So I’d have to get up at 5am to get there on time. But the course sounds beautiful, and the timing is perfect; the schedule is a week after my 5K training would be complete. I would possibly even run a decent time.

There’s no saying I can’t do more than one, though…I know I want to run a few races before the marathon. I have plans to run the Turkey Trot 10K on Thanksgiving. It’ll be my excuse to eat as much food as I want that day.

RunLikeA-Girl is invading the Internet!!!

In my effort to be Internet famous (aka get my reader numbers above 15), I’ve decided to give in and join Twitter…because, let’s face it, this blog is a waste of my time, and yours, if no one reads it. And everyone should read it, because it is fabulously entertaining.

Follow me!

I'm a pack animal

Last night I went for a long run/walk with these two lovely ladies (I had threatened to take sweaty post-workout pictures, but fortunately for them, forgot my camera):

Me, Jasmine, and Elizabeth

We ended up going about 3 miles, and it took us a little over 45 minutes. We did a lot of chatting, and some untimed running in between our walks. I meant to bring my watch and make it serious, you know, be the drill-sergeant of the group, but I forgot. My training calendar was a 30-minute walk anyway, so I did more than I had to. It was kind of nice to go with other people. Here are some of the highlights of our conversation:

Elizabeth asked how long I had to run the marathon. I told her I had to finish in less than 7 hours otherwise THE SWEEPER would come to get me (yes, that really is what it’s called). She said, “Yeah, but you could do it in under 2 hours, right? People can do that.” I replied, “Sure, if I was from Kenya. But I’m not. I’m from Jersey.”

Jasmine is a way better runner than Elizabeth and I. And she just started. Although I guess I did too.

Elizabeth mentioned the Krispy Kreme run, where you run a mile and a half to your local KK, stuff a dozen glazed down your throat, then run a mile and a half back. Then puke your guts out, I’m sure. Wow. Impressive.

We debated over how far we ran. Jasmine said it was 3 miles. Elizabeth agreed. I said it was probably 4, maybe further. They politely said nothing, but exchanged glances that clearly said, “This crazy girl can’t measure distances to save her life!” I used my car to figure out our mileage on my drive home. As it turns out, they were right. Once my mileage training starts, I’ll have to buy a pedometer, or use mapmyrun.com to figure out my distances.

In other news, I haven’t reached the point in my training where I look forward to running. I’m still dragging my feet, even just thinking about running doesn’t excite me. I’m hoping to cross that hurdle soon, and hit my runner’s high. That’s right, I like to get high. (I can totally see that quote coming back to haunt me in the future.) I still make it out when I’m supposed to, minus that one day last week. But it’s hard to motivate myself. Hopefully I’ll hit my stride soon.

I’m thinking that buying new running shoes will help get me motivated. My current pair has a giant hole in not one but BOTH toes! Classy. But my fiancé was laid off and we’ve got a wedding coming up, so I’m probably looking at another month or two before I can invest in a new pair. It’s cool, though. I just wear brightly colored socks and it really cheers up my run. I’m considering painting smiley faces and/or motivational quotes on the toes of my socks. That way, whenever I hit a wall, I can just look down for a little pick-me-up.

Sometimes I think I’m a genius.

I ain't no holla back girl

I got whistled at today.

And since my iPod froze about three minutes into my run, I heard it, and rolled my eyes.

Big mistake.

In rolling my eyes, I acknowledged that this guy had whistled at me in the first place. Then, he looked me up and down, and said something to the effect of, “Hey there, sweet thang, whatcha doin?”

Really? What am I doing? Really?? I’m sorry, do the running shoes, sports bra, and look of ever-approaching exhaustion on my face not give that away?

Even in real life – on the street, or at a bar – I never understood what kind of woman responded to a cat call. Are there really women in the world who reach into their purses and pull out a pen and a piece of paper to write down their numbers for such winning lines as, “Yo, you lookin’ fine, girl!”? I can only assume there must be, because men continue to try and pick me up this way.

I wonder if this guy actually thought that I would stop and talk to him. Maybe if I had responded with more than my obligatory annoyed expression he wouldn’t have known what to do next. Perhaps this man is so shy that he can only cat-call at women as they run by, because he knows no serious runner (and, let’s face it, one week in I’m obviously a serious runner) would actually stop to chat. And if any woman ever stopped to chat, I don’t know what he’d do. I don’t think he could handle it.

Anyway, it’s a good thing I’m getting married. Otherwise I might have needed a date, and I might have stopped, and then my whole training schedule would have been thrown off.

On another note, I want to take a moment here to thank you, dear readers. Most, if not all, of the traffic driven to this blog comes from my Facebook profile, and my last post seemed to drive a lot of traffic. I posted the status update “Heather is a failure at www.RunLikeA-Girl.blogspot.com” and I got a ton of comments. Apparently, you people like it when I fail. In real life, multiple people commented to me about how much they enjoyed my blog. In any case, knowing that people are actually reading this makes me feel more committed to success. I don’t want to let you down.

Week two starts tomorrow. I have plans to run with two lovely ladies. Generally I’m against running with others because I’m afraid that, after seeing what I look like when I’m exercising, people will stop being my friend. But according to Runner’s World magazine, people who run with others are more successful. And I’m ready to be successful. So ladies, do your worst.