Spread Eagle Tuesday

I had this great little fart post ready to go last night, but decided to take it down. Wasn’t sure if enough people are like me and want to indulge in lengthy reading about gas. I will say that I learned a ton from the article, What Makes a Fart? Like the fact that a mom hands down the fart smell to her kids through her bacteria during delivery. To my kids I say: You are welcome!

Go read it. You will seriously die laughing and will actually learn quite a bit (Why does coffee cause farting? Do people really have body parts reconstructed to change the noises their farts make?). It is rather graphic, however. I always wonder what motivates people to go into the field of proctology. Guess I will have to ask Dr. Jelly Fingers himself.

Lately I have gotten into the habit of spending quite a bit of time at the gym on Tuesdays. Tuesday is yoga day with Andrea at 9:15. I’ve been going early and getting in a challenging treadmill run (3-4% incline for a few miles will kick your ass unless you are much tougher than I am). I then do some strength work. As much as I want my adductors (inner thighs) to get stronger (generally this area is weak on runners, but helps stabilize your body and helps with alignment when you run – thanks, Matt), the adductor weight machine freaks me out.

This is not me

The fact is, I am not a prude, but this spread eagle thing is a bit much. I now realize why they put this particular machine in the back of the gym, facing a wall. It would be really creepy if they put the water fountain right in front of the machine and all the pervs could come over and “get water” while stealing a look at your “repetitions.” Honestly, weight machines in general freak me out a bit. Mostly because I’ve never really use them. If I do weight training, I usually use my body as the resistance (lunges, etc). Yet, the weight machine has its time and place. Just not with a lot of people watching.

Another thing I noticed on gym-Tuesdays is that there are millions of people who go to the gym to just wander around. It’s weird. My biggest pet peeve, though, is when people talk on the phone while working out. One day I had a woman get on the elliptical right beside me (even though there were others available) and scream into her phone the whole time. I wanted to pinch her head off. I egged her car instead.

Speaking of gyms, I have some Biggest Loser impressions from last night (spoiler alert):

• The food eating challenge was gross. You know that food had to have been cold and congealed. Plus, the thought of eating an entire bowl of cranberry sauce makes me gag. I honestly think I would have won that challenge because I would have gone for the cornbread first given the fact it might have been one of the lower calorie items.
• Dolvett sweats a lot during the weigh-ins. I would like to see him on the adductor machine. Naked.
• Even though Ramon returned to his beloved, Jess, for a skydive jump I could just tell by her body language she’s not into him. I might be wrong, this is just a hunch. Not like Jess and I text and go to Subway all the time together or anything.
• Ramon looks much better with short hair. But, about that argyle vest…
• John had it out for Sunny. I get why he gave her the pound disadvantage, but not sure why he also crushed her at the vote.
• Dolvett looks good in red. Dolvett looks good in flannel. Dolvett looks good in _________. The answer is: anything!
• You can tell Anna has checked out. You don’t hear much from her anymore. Except, “You can do eeeet!”
• Bob almost cried when talking about his sister. This was quite touching and heartfelt.
• I cannot wait for makeover week! But, what I really cannot wait for is the MARATHON!! I wish more of you lived closer, we could have a party on marathon night and place bets on who would win. Heck, I think I’ll do that anyway. I love to gamble.

Do you use the weight machines at the gym? No. Only sporadically.

What are your pet peeves at the gym? Mine is people who use their phones. And, yes, that is allowed at my gym. I also hate it when people use the adductor machine naked.

Who do you think will win the marathon on TBL? Right now my money is on John.

SUAR

Don’t forget the SUAR sale. Go HERE. End Monday. Lots of cool stuff including long sleeve techs.

Breaking the Barrier

I cannot stop laughing at this video. It is one of the funniest things I’ve seen in a long time. I mean, I could have STARRED in this video for fart’s sake.  Especially the  very last scene.

Do you remember when you “Broke the Barrier” in your relationship? It took Ken and I about six days. It was the best day of our lives outside of our wedding day and our kids’ births.

SUAR

Stuff People Say

“Life will suck if you are always wishing you’re doing something else.
Life will rock if you realize you’re already doing the best thing ever.” 
- Leo from Zen Habits (one of the best blogs out there!)

Is it just me, or do you go through your days having interesting little interactions with people? Some people you know, some you don’t. Some exchanges are funny, some are sad or touching, and some just leave you scratching your head. This week I’ve had some pretty precious and priceless ones come my way.

Setting: The grocery store, two days ago

Cashier: That lady who just bought groceries is going to New York City! Can you believe it? New York City!!
Me: Yeah, that’s pretty cool. (but not caring too much)
Cashier: I mean, did you hear me? She is going to New York City! That is crazy, man!
Me: (wondering if this guy has ever left the grocery store): Yeah, that’s pretty cool.
Cashier: I mean, I just don’t know if I could handle New York City with all that craziness. I have seen all of the “Home Alone” movies, so I know what it is like.
What I think in my head but don’t say: YES! Because “Home Alone” is the most accurate depiction of real life in NYC I can think of. Because everyone who lives in NYC is a ten year old boy who is mistakenly left alone by his parents and who puts on aftershave and scares away robbers with boobie traps.

Setting: My Ford Explorer, this morning (because a lot of exchanges go down in the car)

Me: God, I don’t’ know what my problem is. Running just gives me gas. I bet I farted 90 times on my run today.
Emma (daughter, 10): Really? Did you just fart? I don’t smell it.
Me: Matter of time. (locking the windows because I am that type of mom)
Emma: Oh, yeah, here it comes. Ewww. Egg salad. I had egg salad once at grandma’s. It was good. It was egg whites and yolks.
What I think in my head but don’t say: At least she smells my farts and still eats egg salad.

Setting: Wahoo’s Fish Taco with my two girlfriends, last night

Friend1: I’d like the chicken bowl
Cashier: White or black beans?
Friend1: White
Cashier: Brown or white rice?
Friend1: White (I’m beginning to think she’s racist)
Cashier: Do you like it wet?
What I think in my head but don’t say: That’s what she said.

Setting: Sitting on Emma’s bed at night, two days ago

Emma: Mom, can you remember to call my piano teacher to tell her I won’t be there Saturday?
Me: Yep, I’ll do it. I’ll also let Katie know you’ll be at her house at 1 pm. tomorrow.
Emma: Mom, thank you for just taking care of everything and making things go just right.
What I think in my head but don’t say: Seriously? Did my offspring just say that? could all of these years of martyrdom and pulling my hair out really be worth it after all?

Setting: Grocery Store, five days ago

Me: (wearing Bolder Boulder 10K shirt)
Person bagging my groceries (PBMG): Did you run that race?
Me: Yep (And I’ll tell you about a time I ran with Dean or when I ran the Boston Marathon if you want, all you have to do is ask. Did I mention I’m training for a half ironman?).
PBMG: Here’s what I don’t get. Like, why would you want to do that? Why would anyone want to do that?
What I think in my head but don’t say: Why would anyone want to bag groceries?

 

What’s an interesting interaction you’ve had this week?

Would you buy a “Sneak In?” I would not simply because I do not know anyone in jail right now.

Brown or white rice? I’m brown all the way.

Do you ever think things in your head you don’t say? Yes. About 9,541 times per day.

SUAR

PS: If your ordered a Burn Out tee or men’s tech tee, they are being mailed today and should take 2-5 days (except international). The tech tees will go out next week and will also take 2-5 days to ship. I’ll let you know the day those are mailed.

Thunder in the Rockies

Fitness and Health Bloggers Conference Update:

Just FYI: later on I will be doing a “live blogging” event where I will be reviewing sponsor products live on the blog. It is like speed dating but hopefully with no unintended pregnancies.

7:00 a.m. yoga class started out peaceful enough. The cool Rocky Mountain air flowed through the Bugaboo room at the Marriot. The Flatiron mountains looked amazing through the huge picture windows. We moved easily and quietly through Warriors and down dogs and triangles. Clair was to my left, Jason behind me (he’s brave). We were about 50 minutes into a one hour class when the calm in the room was disrupted as Clair came out of three-legged dog pose and released a thunderous fart. Yes, she did. Let me tell you something about Clair. She is a proper Southern girl. It took about 18 years of being her friend before she passed gas in front of me.

I crumbled onto my mat and looked back at Jason. All I could see was his back shaking while he tried to maintain a downward dog. Quickly, the instructor took us into happy baby pose, which only made matters worse. In this special pose, you are on your back with your legs drawn up and spread open. You grab your big toes with your peace fingers, further opening your legs. “Crap,” I thought. “Is she going to let a few more fly?” No, she didn’t. We regained composure, and I told Clair later, “Thank you. My weekend is complete.”

Now, I’m sitting here in the Marriott conference room listening to A-list, influential, very successful bloggers talk about how they got to where they got to. It’s make me feel overwhelmed. I started blogging because I love to write and wanted an outlet. I love the connection blogging allows, and I love the exchange with you all. You make me laugh and inspire me everyday.

When the conversation leads to brands and sponsorships and advertising and book deals, I am not sure what to do. In all honestly, blogging has become more than a hobby for me because of the amount of time I put into it. I feel driven to write everyday. The fact is, it’s taken over a lot of my time. It feels like next steps might be in order, and that’s why I’m here – to learn about all the stuff I’m missing. Twatting and ambassadorships, book deals. It’s a different world.

Woven into all of this are the important questions: Why do you blog? What is your purpose? Where are you going? Do you care about your traffic, your numbers, your analytics?  What is the strategy for your blog, or do you have one?

I am a fly by the seat of your pants (underwear) kind of girl. I love being spontaneous. My only “rules” for my blogging is that I write authentically and I don’t force my writing. If I don’t feel inspired, I don’t write. I don’t have much structure, but there are themes that have surfaced over the course of this blog: not making excuses, doing what you said you would do, potty humor, honesty, recovery/rest, being real.

What’s your goal with your blog?

SUAR

RIP Eugene

So, I got out of the pool yesterday after drinking my share of pee water and started coughing. Thought it was the chlorine (or the piss or the hairballs or the e-coli), but as the day progressed so did my cough. Last night Sam asked what the heck was wrong with my voice. I told him I had taken up smoking copious amounts of pot. And cigarettes. It helps with my training. And, my glaucoma.

I’m not sick SICK, so when my alarm went off today at 5am for my riding group it never occurred to me to not go. I mean, training under adverse conditions is what it’s all about, right? Makes us stronger or something like that?

There is actually a pro triathlete (well, he won the Ironman World Championship in 2010), Chris McCormack, who, in an effort to learn how to deal with GI distress during race, eats nachos with super spicy hot sauce before long runs. Yes, the dude deliberately instigates cramps and farts and the need to evacuate. In his own words (I find this fascinating!):

“I always had this problem of my stomach shutting down during the marathon of an Ironman. So I thought if I could run with my stomach shutting down, I could do it in a race. So once a week I would sit down and eat nachos with really spicy hot sauce. Then I’d get my running gear on, go for a run and of course, my stomach would shut down, but I’d just keep going.”

I don't see any shit in this picture.

“They were brutal training runs. But then on race day, when my stomach would shut down I’d think, “I can deal with this.” I’d be able to keep going. Doing this paid off so many times over. I’d do this 10 weeks out from Ironman until two weeks before race day. It’d be a horrible run, but it had a huge impact on my overall race performance.”

He is hard core. But, what he doesn’t tell us is about shitting on the side of the road, what TP he used, etc. (Thanks, Jason, for putting this on your blog).

I, on the other hand, do not need to eat nachos before a run because my body already knows how to cramp and shit itself without any hand holding.  It is a built in training strategy. I could win an Ironman.

Anyway, the ride was amazingly beautiful, but I have to admit I felt like dog crap. Probably smelled like it too. I think it’s funny when you start getting sick. At first you say, “Oh, it’s probably allergies” or “Oh, I have something in my throat.” You deny the sickness for as long as possible. But then there comes a point of acceptance.  I can’t deny any more that I’ve got some respiratory crap.

But, when you're with a group, there is no wussing out or turning back early, so I sucked it up. Shut up and do not be a pussy.

We headed towards the foothills, then up Lefthand Canyon.

As we passed the spot where Eugene Howrey, age 73, was killed on his bike on Friday, I took a moment to think of him and to send healing thoughts to his family. Here’s a guy well into his 70s just trying to stay healthy and to live an active life. To make matters worse, come to find out that the trucker who hit him was charged with reckless driving two years ago for nudging a cyclist into oncoming traffic. I know he didn’t do it on purpose, but he probably was being more aggressive or less cautious than he needed to be. 

Anyway, 1,400 feet of climbing (from about 5,000 feet to 6,400 feet) in the first 14 miles kind of kicked my ass. But it was downhill the whole way back, so I lived. I can’t tell you how much I love this group. Not just because the women are strong and amazing, but because it pushes me to whole new levels.

I call this the “tit” ride. Thanks for pointing that out Matty!

But, now it’s time to take a load off.

Are you in denial when you get sick? Do you still train? I deny it for awhile. If there is no fever, I can breathe okay and I don’t feel too run down, I still train. But, maybe a bit lighter than I would otherwise.

Ever purposefully eat crap before running just to see what happens? No, I don’t. I once, by mistake and before I was really a runner, ate beef stroganoff for lunch before a run. I think I threw up.

Are you an early morning workout-er? I love getting up and getting it done. Plus, morning is my favorite time of day. So full of possibility.

SUAR

No Excuses

If there ever was a time to Shut Up and Run, it was today.

Do you ever want to wimp out?  You plan an early morning workout and the later you stay up and the more you drink, eat, etc., the more you negotiate with yourself about why you don’t really need to get up that early, or why you don’t really need to do that workout anyway.

By the time you lay your head down to rest at midnight, stuffed and dehydrated, you move the alarm to the off position and think, “Oh well. Working out isn’t everything. I’m sure I can fit it in later in the day or next week or never. I’m just destined to {insert adjective here}: be lazy, be out of shape, not meet my goal.

Maybe it’s that you were at the Rockies game really late last night while there was a rain delay:

And maybe you had two of these:

And one of these with a mound of fries (and a few farts):

Or maybe it’s that you are tired from previous workouts this week.

Or maybe you have a really full day ahead and it makes you tired to start an hour or two earlier for your workout.

Or maybe, for just a minute, you stopped caring and lost sight of your goal.

But, in the deep dark of the night, your conscience gets to you and you know you can’t cop out. You remember you have a blog that espouses “no excuses” and “getting shit done without complaining.” You know that you need to do what you said you were going to do because …..well, only because you promised yourself you’d do it.

The thing is, no one really cares but you. Sure your friends and husband and parents want you to meet your goals, to get in shape, whatever. But when push comes to shove, it is you who has the most invested. It is you and only you who has the most to lose if you don’t stick to your plan. And, the most to gain if you do.

You have to live in your brain and heart everyday and take the brunt of not doing what you said you would do.

Back to me. This is how it went down. I woke up at 5:50 a.m., groaning. I slapped on some clothes, fed the dog and was running by 6:05 a.m. I don’t know how I did it. No coffee, no food, no iPod. I just thought, “This workout will suck and then it will be done.”

It was a tougher workout, being so tired. Plus the water fountains at the lake weren’t working and I don’t like to drink liquid e-coli, so I kept my face out of the lake. But, by mile two, as is always the case, I found my stride. 6.55 miles in 57 minutes.

I am never sorry I did it. Never. In fact, by the time I showered, stopped by Starbucks and was on my way to work at 7:30 a.m. (yes, I’m that fast. I told you I don’t like to spend time getting ready), I was on top of the world.

Here is my attempt at advice. Stop thinking so much and getting in your own way. Thinking merely allows an outlet to not do something. Just put it into action without the forethought of: it’s too hot, I’m too tired, I don’t have time, I don’t feel like it. If being in shape, losing weight, running marathons was easy, everyone would do it. It’s not supposed to be easy.

When those thoughts creep in, kick them to the curb. Then do what you said you were going to do. You’ll be glad you did.

How do you motivate yourself when the going gets tough?

SUAR

I Never Lie (Almost)

I never lie. Especially about a fart. I pride myself on that fact.  But, we were in the car with the in-laws and I was feeling self conscious.   All three rows of the Ford Explorer were in use because there are six of us. I was crammed in the back row with Emma. I let one fly. Silently.

Emma: (loud) MOM! You farted!

Me: (actually a bit embarrassed for once) No, I did not.

Emma: Yes, you did!

Mom: (deflecting) Maybe it’s the cow farm you smell. Or, someone else in the car.

Emma: Grandpa! Was that you?

Me: (snickering)

Later that night…

Me: That was me who farted in the car.

Ken: No, shit. And nice of you to blame my dad.

Me: I didn’t blame your dad. The conversation just flowed that way.

Bad daughter-in-law. BAD. You would have done the same thing.

But we did have a nice day in Estes Park visiting the Stanley Hotel (think the “Shining” movie).

This morning’s workout was 2,700 yards at the pool (that’s 108 lengths to you and me). I warmed up and did a 200/400/600/600/400/200 ladder with 5 second rest intervals. Then a cool down. Back and forth. Back and forth. Like a robot. Staring at the bottom of the pool. Trying to keep count.

The pool was teeming with pre-pubescent swim team girls. What? Is school out? Do kids like to swim? Isn’t there somewhere else for these kids to be at 7:00 a.m. on a Monday morning? Like sleeping maybe or watching Sponge Bob?

Post workout, I got out and the lifeguard said, “Since you spend so much time looking at the bottom of the pool, would you please let me know if you see hairballs or band aids that I need to clean up?”

I’m not kidding. She said that.

Sure, sister. I got your back.  Are you paying me by the hour? And, thanks for reminding me that there ARE indeed hairballs and band aids in the pool. And thanks for not mentioning turds and scabs.

Ick.

And, the goggle eyes. They really have to go.

TGO4DTF (Thank God Only 4 Days ‘Til Friday),

SUAR

Winners and Partay

57 measly entries for the Butt Shield Giveaway.

I feel let down. I thought you all liked all things ASS more than that. I also thought more of you would be invested in protecting your butts while you ran, biked, road tripped and sat on airplanes. Everyone needs a good Butt Shield. Don’t ever get so cocky so that you think your butt is exempt.

Just to show the importance of protection, I am going to wear Butt Shield on my five hour, red-eye trip to Costa Rica on Friday. They don’t call it a red-eye for nothing. I will emerge into the city of San Jose with a fresh, rash-less ass and the locals (“Ticos,” you call them) will turn their heads, noses in the air sniffing, wondering who has just entered their country and hoping she will never leave.

Funny thing I just learned. The unit of money in Costa Rica is the Colon, named after none other than Chris Columbus who discovered the country (guess he had a nice colon). No joke. I am going to keep my colons clean while I visit. My colons might be brown, but they will be shiny and hygienic. My colons will be exchanged for souvenirs of beauty.

The winners of the almighty Shield:

1. Holly (She chafes right at the base of her tail bone, where her cheeks come together)
2. Diana Tries-A-Tri (She has no ass, so chafe happens)
3. Steve Q (He’s tried everything stop chafing during ultramarathons. Nothing's worked yet including K-Y he just “happened” to have on hand, wink, wink). 
4. LaVonne (She had a chafing nightmare once and had to lay on the couch for 2 days with her legs spread apart. She then I had to wear skirts with no underwear for a week).
5. Jamoosh (Who says, “I am a poster child for inner butt cheek chafing.” Nice image).

Congrats. Email me your address at shutuprun@gmail.com.

Thanks for asking, my birthday party was fun.

Me opening gifts. No one is paying attention. You should call that number on the screen. Laurie, I’m wearing the necklace you sent!!

Me with squinty eyes and holding my special birthday glass that got refilled with Buffalo Gold beer a few times. My sis-in-law in the back looks pissed.  She is talking to my mom. You can see her half-face.

You had to be blond to come to my party. Can you find me in the dark?

Three people went home sick and I ate a lot of Buffalo wings.  When we got in the car at the end of the night, I sat between my two friends in the backseat. I let one fly and my one friend started gagging and had to open the door for some air. I’m proud of that.  The Urban Dictionary would appropriately call this a fire fart (see link for amazing details).

You might be old when… the waiter asked if I wanted a birthday shot or a dessert. I did the inconceivable and went with dessert. God, I’m old. But, I wasn’t so hung-over I couldn't do my 20 mile ride Sunday and play video poker on my iPad for three hours. So, suck it, you young’uns.

My real birthday is tomorrow. I have lots of fun things planned for myself. I like having multiple-day birthdays.

Not too old to stink up the car like a sailor,

SUAR

Quite a Full Day

Some very interesting incidents having taken place today in the life of SUAR.

1. During my 1.5 hours of hot yoga, something startling occurred. We were about 60 minutes in, dripping sweat, doing our Warrior poses. The person to my right started farting. Uncontrollably. Loud. Echoing throughout the quiet, music-less studio. One after another after another. Much like a motorcycle or an AK-47. Just when I thought they had ceased, yet another huge gaseous explosion would occur. It was like being in a torture chamber. I pursed my lips, trying not to laugh or wet myself. I thought, “Please, have mercy. Let this person stop their endless farting or I shall have to leave the room in hysterics and I will be banned from here for life.” I looked around. No one cracked a smile. No one fessed up. Who are these people? A bunch of mature adults? People who expect and accept gas with no reaction? Where I come from farts are acknowledged. Laughed at. Made a topic of conversation. Thankfully, at the very moment when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, it ended. Just like that. There is a God. And even he/she knows when enough is enough.
   
2. After yoga I came home and I had lunch. Leftovers of shrimp/spinach salad and chicken enchiladas. I went to run some errands and my stomach was quite bubbly. I felt fine, but I had gas much like the person in the yoga class. Dammit, I thought, her gas was contagious after all. I went about my way, and when I got home I made some mint tea, which always settles things down. In the midst of the tea making, I passed a bit of gas. With a chaser that may or many not have been a shart. I bowed my head in shame. Don’t roll your eyes. You’ve done it too. And if you haven’t, your day is coming.
   
3. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed and needed some relaxation. In borrowing an idea from Amanda, I asked my daughter to draw a picture with gel pens on my back. It would be like a mini massage. Here’s the result – and I didn't even have to pay her to make the picture about running. I’m not sure why my left leg is so large compared to my right (maybe it has to do with the bad hip) or why I have an afro coming out from my head. I do have nice boobs, though:
   
   
4. We went to some friends for dinner. My dear girlfriend made a  confession. She told me she blow dries her pubes after showers. Finds it to be a pleasant experience and likes that “dry feeling.” I’ve never heard of such a thing. This is entirely new territory for me. I found myself wondering if this is common. Maybe just with those who don’t trim regularly and have some extra length and volume.

I don’t know what to say. It was a day of firsts. I learned a lot. I experienced a lot. I grew a lot as a person.

Always up for new experiences,

SUAR

I Meant To Do That

Wow, all I can say about yesterday’s post is that you guys aren’t shy about nuts. In fact, you embrace them. Way to go ball-lovers!

Don’t get all fired up, but my hip is feeling so much better I might just attempt a run on Monday. 12 minutes. On land. It will not involve water or floatation devices or pussies. Just me and mother earth. I will not be texting while I run, because there is an inherent risk in doing such things. I mean, have you seen this video from earlier this week?

Apparently, this woman was texting while strolling in the mall and walked right into the fountain. Not an easy feat considering the fountain covers many square feet and has a short wall around it. I love how she gets right up and steps out of the fountain like nothing happened. As if to say, “Nothing to see here, I meant to do that.”

We have all had those I meant to do that moments. I had one last year when I fell of the treadmill. I also had one a couple years ago when my car got stuck underneath the arm that comes down when a train is coming. It kept smacking the top of my car and going back up. I couldn’t reverse because there was a car behind me. And, I couldn’t go forward because, well, duh, there was a train.

I actually have those I meant to do that moments every single day, sometimes more subtly than others. Just today I farted with my daughter’s piano partner in the car. It was silent, but horrific. (SBH). I couldn’t hide it, no matter how hard I tried. I’m sure this little pianist (best word ever because when you say it fast…well, you get it) will ask his mom to PU-LEEZ drive next time because Emma’s mom smells.

What’s your favorite I-meant-to-do-that moment? (IMTDTM)

Never going to run for public office,

SUAR

P.S. Both Kovas and Chris K. have rallied for my cause to raise $25,000 so I can buy an Alter-G anti gravity treadmill. Why donate to starving kids in Africa when you can give to the SUAR recovery fund? Thanks guys.

Synching Our Cycles

See that little cabin in the middle of the picture? That’s where I slept last night with eleven other women. It did not suck. Estrogen was in abundance. I could feel our menstrual cycles synching up with each passing moment.

 

 

The drive up was long and after a stop at Costco to sample a disgusting mix of protein bars, chicken noodle soup and Brie, I had the worst gas. Poor Erika had her head hanging out the window for the better part of the drive. And, she didn’t even yell at me. In fact she shared a bed with me last night and we spooned.

The group of 12 started out with a snowshoe/cross country skiing adventure. My hip was having a fit, but I smacked it around a bit.

Don’t be jealous of my blue ski pants. They are hand me downs from 1995. I like to save a buck where I can. I will run “the Boston” in them.

Me doing the famed ski shot. I am going to confess. The ski shots never really happened. We are all 40 something lame asses with no alcohol tolerances. By 10pm everyone was dehydrated and reaching for the Motrin. This is me in the morning drinking water. It was all for the photo op.

A bit windy when we left:

Getting out of town was good for me. This was a really upbeat and positive group of women. I have been in a funk since my less than stellar running week and my doomsday meeting with the PT on Tuesday. I tried to run my 8 minutes on Friday and couldn’t. It just hurt too bad. I stopped, and went home, head down, defeated.

The good news is it didn’t hurt where the fracture was. The pain was more in the outside of my hip. But, it was that type of pain where you knew you had to be smart and back off.

I think re-introducing running and my PT exercises got everything all flared up and irritated. I tend to be a very all or nothing person. I get easily discouraged. When something goes wrong or not as planned, I go to the worst place scenario. I keep reminding myself that my body is trying to heal and I need to be patient. And smart.

I got such a cool comment last week that said,

I have this Russian friend who is dying. Really- not going to make it.  Don’t let that bum you out; it’s just a fact. She is the strongest and most determined kicking-asses (not just one ass, many “asses”) person I will ever know. She is also trained in sports therapy, and has worked with everyone from the Chicago Bulls, Cirque du Soleil, and USSR cycling teams when she lived there. I read your post, and even though she’s feeling really really bad, I called her to see what she had to say about your healing--the call made her day! She said A LOT, but, in summary she said EAT FOR YOUR BONES. Eat for healing: plant-based proteins, food-based anti-inflammatory (berries, fresh basil, omega-3), vitamins & minerals. She also said to apply indirect “vibration” in the area of injury 3x per day with a back massager or something, for about 3-5 minutes. This, I can say from experience, totally helps!! You better listen to her advice, because if you don’t, this crazy Russian woman will haunt your ass. She also said red wine helps : )

Vibration! I love vibration. What girl doesn’t? And because I seriously do not want to be haunted by this crazy Russian, I bought a hand held massager at Walgreen’s yesterday for $4.99 (because I would never already have something that vibrated in a drawer somewhere). It is top of the line. 11 a.m. and I could be found, pants down, lying on the floor massaging my hip. Ken called in the neighbors and postman to take a look.

I also love the info on the plant based proteins (soy, beans, nuts, lentils) and food-based anti-inflammatories (spinach, broccoli, blueberries, chickpeas, buckwheat noodles, etc). I’ll post more on that later.

Not to mention that fact that when you are reminded that someone is dying, you tend to back off of your self-involvement. Really, my stress fracture is just not the significant in the grand scheme.

What’d you do this weekend?

Trying anything just to get better,

SUAR

The Queue

You guys rock. Thank you from my bottom for your kind and encouraging words today on the 8 minutes. You are right. My body has to adjust to the impact. It’s like learning to walk again. I can’t get discouraged. Must persevere!!

And, now, this is why I love my husband.

Last night we’re laying in bed. He asked me to stop doing something, can’t remember what, probably eating candy or talking incessantly about my injury or Athleta. I told him I wouldn’t stop, asked what he was gonna do? He says, “Fart! I’ve got one in the queue.”

The queue! As if it’s a long line in London or something.

I love him.

And, because you asked, here is a picture of my Raynaud’s infested foot. Happy? I also have a Morton's Toe (second toe is longer than the rest – very finger like – I can do amazing things with that toe). I know it doesn’t look that bad here, but you can see how it turns white with no circulation. This can happen to my whole foot. It sucks. As Kovas says, I do have all the cool ailments.

Yay! Hood to Coast movie opens tomorrow. I have press passes through the Examiner to see the premier. I’ll probably be walking the red carpet like no one’s business. I ran the H2C back in ‘09 in the most unconventional way (like I do most things). I'll share that story and the movie review with you later this week. That was actually the year they filmed the movie, and I remember seeing the film crew and mooning them. Well, not really, but maybe I’ll be in the movie anyway.

You going to see the movie? Ever run a relay?

Going to pick my nose with that toe. Yes, I am just that flexible.

 

SUAR

Baby Jesus for Breakfast

It’s a favorite day around here. We like to call it chocolate for breakfast.

December 1st and that means advent calendars. I used to have the loser one that had pictures of angels and fireplaces when you opened the windows. Dammit, I have dedicated my life to my children having better advent calendars than I did. The ones that are devoid of meaning and full of molded cheap chocolate shaped like the baby Jesus. $1.99 at Target.

So, they get chocolate. Everyday. Before breakfast.

It’s okay. It’s just a small piece. Don’t go calling social services or anything. It’s not like I fart in the car and lock the windows or shove anyone’s head under the covers for a Dutch oven. Well, maybe once.

Yep, we’re gearing up for Christmas. Baby Jesus for breakfast and Dutch ovens. What am I wishing for? To bid the pussy posse farewell and do some land running.

I didn’t make it to the pool today. I hit the gym for 45 minutes of stationary bike action. It rocked. I really liked the part where I got to stare at a soundless television and smell the B.O. from the guy’s ass on the treadmill right in front of me. I’m not a huge treadmill fan, having once fallen off and preferring to run outdoors. But, I miss running so much I even desperately and wholeheartedly long for the treadmill. I would give my left nut (or Ken’s) to be able to do a run on that thing.

It’s been 54 days since my last run. Sad thing is, I didn’t even know it was my last. Had I known I might have done it naked or had a going away party. Or at least appreciated it more.

I think my greatest fear with all this injury stuff is that I will not heal and I will not run again. Or, that I will never run again in the same way. I know it’s a drastic and dramatic fear, but it’s not that different from hearing a noise in the night and deciding it’s someone coming to behead you and your family.  Well, I guess it is kind of different, but my point is that the mind likes to go to crazy places if you let it.

My friend, Dana, is someone I have not met in person. He began emailing me right before I got injured after having read about me in the paper. He is a local runner from Longmont and has an impressive running resume including countless marathons and seven consecutive Leadville 100s. He’s also done the Western States Ultra.

The dude has been running injury free for 40 years!  He always knows just what to say. Yesterday, he sent me these words. I want to share them with you because I think it’s good advice for all of us on the injured list (which some days feels like the majority of us). You can substitute “hip” for your injury of choice (plantar fasciitis, knee, achilles, tibia, etc.):

I am convinced that whether your hip likes it or not, it will heal out of shear mental will power. Come hell or high water, you are going to mentally force your hip to heal.

Coming back to earth, your body really does get a vote and it reminds you of that once in a while with a twinge of pain.  When you start running again, it will be difficult not to place all of your focus on your hip. It is important not to forget the rest of your body. Don't forget that everything else has not had the benefit of the demands of running for 3 months as well and will need to be reintroduced to running right along with your hip.

I have found that after taking extended breaks, you will feel like you are starting all over for about 2-3 weeks but all of a sudden everything will fall into place and you will magically be close to the level you where at before the injury. You just need to have patience in the first few weeks you are back running. During those first few weeks expect it to feel like Boston will be impossible but just have the confidence that everything in your body and mind will click at some point and overnight things will change completely.

The worst thing you can do is force your training in those early weeks. The only thing that will do is delay the magical day when everything falls into place and it will also put you at great risk of developing another injury.

In the meantime, put a new pair of running shoes on your Christmas list, you will be needing them in a few short weeks.

I hope he’s right,

SUAR

Today’s Thoughts

You guys love some stickers! Sorry to say, the *free* 150 are gone. If you emailed me before 11 a.m. MDT, yours is free. I will have more available soon for $2/piece (includes shipping). You can buy them through the blog once I figure out how to do that. I’ll let you know when I’ve got them and am all set up.

Addressing 150 envelopes takes a long time. But, I still like it better than water running. Plus, I have help. It takes a village to send out stickers. Ken is trying to act all, “Yeah, my wife makes me do this and I’m too cool for this sticker thing.” But he’s seriously all jacked up inside. Plus, you can only look so cool with a squirt of yogurt on your shirt.

Here’s what occurred to me today:

• People like free stickers.
• Just like the SNL skit, the cashiers at Target are really interested in what you’re buying. Most seem partial to children’s clothes and candle items. “Oh, well, isn’t that cute? Where did you find that? I’m going to have to pick me up one of those!”
• I might only be able to water run for 40 minutes right now, but in 152 days I will run the Boston Marathon. On land. Not in a bathing suit. And, I will be pain free.
• Most of us pay too much for insurance. I bundled (auto/home) and saved $1,200 a year just by making a phone call. Worth the time. I’ve never used “bundle” as a verb before.
• I am a runner, but I am other things too.
• The junk drawer is always a mess. It doesn’t matter what I do. Tape measures, staples, chargers, condoms. It all just accumulates into one big pile of crap.
• We should never apologize for being ourselves and for doing what is true for us.
• Children stare at you when you’re on crutches. Adults mostly look the other way.
• Being injured gives you insight into yourself and others that you would not have otherwise had.
• There is always that one asshole on the road who cuts in front of you and slows down. Why? Why?
• Ménage à Trois wine is really good. You should try it sometime. I’m talking about the wine. I’m not that experimental.
• It’s true that brussell sprouts give you gas. We had them last night. I’m still farting.
• The dishwasher and trash are always full requiring me to do something
• Most of us are way too hard on ourselves. We would never expect others to do the things we demand of ourselves.

What occurred to you today?

Licking envelopes,

SUAR

PS: I’m OFF the crutches. Like completely. There is a God.

When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Lemon Drops (video)

As far as days go, Saturday was a damn good one.

For like the 512th time in her short life, Emma, 9, was yanked prematurely from the warmth of her bed to go watch some combination of family members running a race. This ritual has become as much a part of our lives as playing “20 questions” at dinner or “fart in the round” (a fun game where each family member does their best to fart and you go in a circle. Often times this is a spontaneous game where one person starts, usually a child, and the rest join in. You should try it sometime. You know what they say about families who fart together. They smell?).

Sam, 13, and Ken were running the Turkey Trot 10K. Sam was aiming for a PR, which would be anything below 57:24. 57:23 would be fine. I did my best to park Ken’s big ass truck all crazy and sideways on the side of the road so we could catch them at the four mile mark.

The only thing I like more than watching races is running races. Being on on the sidelines ROCKS even when you are injured and wish you could be running. I get so caught up I find myself getting horse from cheering on strangers and loved ones. I fight back tears constantly. I love the spirit of the race, what can I say.

Mile four and here they come, looking strong, strong, strong. Jess from Mile High Jess left me a comment letting me know she was just behind the boys and recognized me. Hi Jess! She got a PR, so congrats!! (Oh, and whoever it was that said, “I read your blog!” when they ran by, leave me a comment and let me know who you are!)

Here’s Sam (664) and Ken (663). Okay, #450. If you even try to edge out my son or flirt with my husband, I’ll take you down with my crutch:

Here’s Ken handing something off to Emma (see her sweet little gloved pink hand?). Probably his giblet warmer: (Hey! Look! It’s Jess and her husband, right behind them, 895 and 896)

There they go. My two most  favorite clumps of testosterone in the whole world, (well, and then there’s my dad, of course).

Emma and I hauled ass in Ken’s oversized manly truck to the finish, honking and yelling like maniacs. I had to pull a u-turn at one point and it involved driving off road into a ditch. I’m convinced that driving/parking to find love ones while their running races is completely life threatening. You have no idea how many close calls I’ve had.

But, dammit if we weren't at the finish when they crossed it in 55:25! Sam takes a full two minutes off for a new PR. He’s looking a bit ragged, but he’s doing it. Ken, like a good dad, let’s son take the lead. (Note to self: Sam needs new shoes):

7th grade posse. All kinds of middle school greatness:

Us. Playing “Fart in the Round” and you can’t even tell:

Post race, I grabbed my vodka and PJs and headed up to mountains with Erika for some girl time. Once we hit the Continental Divide the weather got crazy bad.

And cold.

We got to the house, which is really shabby and should be condemned (note sarcasm):

And immediately started with the cocktails because nothing says happy hour like 2pm on a snowy Saturday (cue most overused phrase ever: It’s 5 o’clock somewhere).

I had decided that lemon drop martinis were in order (thanks, Kathy, for the recipe), and if you’re going to make them right, you need to use a shit ton of lemons (this was for three drinks, sorry lemon trees somewhere you are feeding girls’ weekends everywhere):

And, then obviously you need to make a video (me and Erika). Don’t look like I have no hurt hip:

What the hell was that?, is right. See, life after 40 can be fun! And insane. I probably need to be on some sort of downer medication to bring me back to earth. I swear, I hadn’t yet had even a sip of alcohol. Just lots of meth. Kidding.

We drank, ate and watched SATC2, which we thought sucked the big one. Like Aidan would really just happen to be in Abu Dabi.

Late night, once were were really dehydrated and tired, we got in the hot tub. It was about 5 degrees, snowing and windy. We farted out chicken enchiladas for awhile (but with the bubbles, it’s hard to tell, but the stench, good God). We stayed in until we saw a coyote walk by and then heard him start howling. We hauled ass inside because we are wimps like that. Camera got so cold it fogged up.

This morning, it was time to head back to reality (one eyed dog is probably hungry, dirty skid marked underwear to launder, etc.).

We bid farewell. Right here are two of the best girlfriends anyone could hope for:

Grateful for it all,

SUAR

Fruit Loops Are Not a Health Food

Do you ever find inspiration in the most random and unexpected of places? Maybe you clicked on someone's blog roll and ended up at SUAR and in the midst of tales of crapping in the weeds and farting on one’s running partner, you find a nugget of something you can hold onto, something that propels you forward.

Or, maybe not. Maybe you decide to never return to this shit-filled blog again.

In any event, sometimes motivation, inspiration and clarity can be found in the gosh darndest of spots. If you’re open to it, that is.

I told you I have a numb left hand. Still do and it’s been several weeks. I’ve been seeing a chiropractor (ex-preacher) for the problem. I try not to cuss in the ex-preacher’s presence but the other day he was doing some funky thing with a shocking device (I don’t think it was S & M) and I yelled “JESUS!!!”  Then I apologized.  I was just asking Jesus to intervene and make the doc stop the electrocution, but I felt bad taking the Lord’s name in vain in front of preacher man. Just didn’t seem right. But then again, he used the word penis in front of me and I didn’t get mad.

(Oh, and as a side, do you ever fart when you think it’s safe? Yesterday I let a huge one fly while lying on the auto massage table at the chiro office. It was silent, but so incredibly deadly. Not three seconds after I cut it, the doc walks in to ask me a question.  I wanted to explain the smell, but thought it best to leave it alone. Do you explain or refrain?).

Chiro doc thinks my hand issue is linked to some smashed discs in my neck, blah, blah, blah. As part of treatment with this guy, he requires you attend a workshop at his office. Yeah, requires. Let me get this right. I’m paying this dude to see him three times per week and he gets to make me come to a workshop? Against my will? On a Tuesday night when both Glee and the Biggest Loser are on? I wasn't too happy about it, but instead of making waves, decided to have an open mind.

Mostly the workshop was about the benefits of alternative medicine, how much of the population is overmedicated, how Fruit Loops are not a health food and how health costs are rising - *yawn*. Who’s got the Fruit Loops cause I need a snack.

Then, he started talking goals. I eat this stuff up. Just throw me some self help buzz words and I get a slight erection.

His talk of goal-setting really hit home. I set goals in my mind sometimes, but rarely write them down (with the exception of training plans). Recent research shows that the act of writing down goals makes it infinitely more likely that you will pursue and even achieve them. Goals give us direction and help us overcome confusion and conflict over our desires, actions and values. Goals can focus on anything: being a better parent, meditating or praying everyday, running a race, losing weight, deciphering your life’s calling. They are meant to make you a better person. Here are some guidelines to get started:

• Goals must be in writing. An unwritten goal is a wish.
• Goals must be specific (Instead of saying, “I want to run a race”, say “I want to run 26.2 miles in May 2011.”).
• Goals must be believable. If you don't believe you can reach them, you won’t. If you have just started running, you probably won’t place in your age group in that Turkey Trot 10K – or maybe you’re a freak of nature, who knows? The point is, set yourself up to be successful.
• Goals must be challenging. They must demand more from you. For races I like to have three goals – one I can live with, one that’s a slight stretch and one that’s a total dream.
• Goals must be adjusted to changing conditions. Lose your foot to frostbite? Might have to opt out of that race next month.
• Goals must be reviewed everyday. This is essential to staying motivated.
• Goals must have action steps and target dates for completion. Breaking your goals down into small steps (daily, monthly, weekly) makes it easier to take action toward making your goal a reality

Along with being successful at achieving goals is having a positive mental attitude. Something that helps with this is affirmations – things you tell yourself as a mini pep talk. Examples:

• I visualize myself exactly the way I want to be
• I give 100% in all that I do.
• I expect and deserve the best
• My success starts in my mind
• I am strong, capable.
• I will not fart on the massage table.

Do you have goals that you write down? Does it make a difference?

PS: Don’t forget my iPod Shuffle and iTunes gift card giveaway. Ends Saturday.

You Don’t Get These Odds In Vegas

Today’s tempo run started at 6:24 a.m. which is about the time I am usually turning over in bed to move out of my own personal pile of drool. I admit it. I am a drooler. As in I leave a perfectly round drool spot at least 3 inches in diameter on the sheet just below my pillow. I like to think it’s a sign of intelligence or at least an indication that I’m a sound sleeper.

I never get up this early, let alone run. Today, however, I have to get my daughter to a camp in Boulder by 9am, so you do what you have to do. Get up and shut up and run.

I was feeling sassy in my new booty shorts and tech shirt from a marathon I have not yet run (Boston). Here I am posing for a JC Penney catalog (no, I did not run in these flip flops – I do, however, have a review coming up about them):

The SUAR schedule called for 1 mile warm up, 4 miles tempo @ 8:04, 1 mile cool down. I can’t stomach much this early, so I did an apple cinnamon Hammer gel about 15 minutes prior with water. I never do gels pre-run, but it’s what sounded good today.

On the way out I was feeling particularly gassy. Good for me I was alone and it was early. I could just let ‘em rip as they came. Smelled like apple cinnamon. I did pass an old guy who gave me a sour look. What? He doesn’t like apple cinnamon?

Here’s how it panned out:

Mile 1: 9:11
Mile 2: 8:11
Mile 3: 7:53
Mile 4: 7:54
Mile 5: 8:07
Mile 6: 9:04

Not too consistent, but I’ll take it. I’m not smart enough to figure out the average of those four miles (Steve Q? Are you there?), but I’m going to guess 8:02. Sound good?

Got speed this week? If so, what are you doing?

Don’t forget my Champion Giveaway. You didn’t hear it here, but if you are a guy you have a 100% chance of winning right now. You don’t get those odds in Vegas you know. Only on this blog.

Overflowing

Running Tip: Now that spring has sprung, dress light! Wear clothing that is suitable for about 10 degrees warmer than it is. Unless you are training to run Badwater. Then just wear your down coat in the sauna.

Okay, seriously blog world. Is that all you’ve got??? Many of you entered my giveaway, yet so few were courageous enough to send a picture of yourself looking ridiculous. So, what I take from this is that you all want free stuff, but don’t want to put yourself on the line and look stupid. That actually does make sense. Or, maybe it’s a time issue. As in, do you guys really have families and jobs and marathon training to tend to?

How am I to have a fruitful photo contest if you don’t send me your obnoxious photos? Here are the perks of taking a photo risk with me (here come the bullets):

• The odds are in you favor - especially for the guys. GUYS, send in your pics.
• You get five extra entries to the giveaway
• You have a chance (and a pretty good one) to win a really cool hydration pack worth $70
• I know modeling and talent agencies comb my site looking for potential subjects. This could be your big break.

I’m done begging and pleading. Do what you want. But just know I expected more. Don’t you wish I was your mother? I could say this to you everyday.

Today I’m going for twelve miles. I wish for many things on my longer runs. To feel strong. To be present. To see the beauty around me. To not shit. That last wish is a tough one and is usually not granted. It would be a more realistic wish if I said, “To not shit my pants.” Shitting goes without saying.

That said, did I ever tell you the story of my most embarrassing moment? Believe me, I have a laundry list of them, but this one takes the cake.

I was 18. I thought I was in love for the first time. My then boyfriend, Michael, wanted to take me to meet his grandparents in Annapolis. But prior to this blissful meeting, he wanted to take me to his favorite deli for a rich, huge, calorie laden Ruben sandwich and chocolate malt (foreshadow). This sounded good at the time.

Here’s what I remember. I ate the whole sandwich and drank the whole malt. We walked outside and it was about 95 degrees and humid. The tar on the road was steaming and stunk. You know when you feel sick, you notice all the sights, smells and sounds around you. They are vivid. In your face. They all make you feel worse.

We got to Michael’s grandparents condo. It is important to note this was a condo. Not much room to run and hide (foreshadow).

We sat around conversating (anyone watch the Biggest Loser? Anyone annoyed by Victoria who used this word, convesating, in a sentence?). Suddenly, my stomach cramps up. The pain is so severe I’m can’t carry on a conversation. I excuse myself to the little powder room off of the living room. I blow it up and flush it down. No harm no foul (NHNF). I return to my seat on the couch with Michael’s grandpa, “Poppie” and his grandma.

Not a minute later, wave two is upon me. The cramping is intense. The need to use the bathroom again is urgent. I excuse myself again. You can get away with one trip to the bathroom, but two trips in five minutes and you should probably just announce to everyone present, “I have diarrhea!”

This time when I unload, the toilet hesitates. It swirls and bubbles, but eventually agrees to ingest what I’ve put in it. I am praising the Lord, promising to only do good deeds for the rest of my life.

I head back out to the family, who by this time knows I’m sick. I vaguely remember grandma dimming the lights and telling me to lie down for a moment sweetie. I stretch out a bit, already feeling humiliated, but knowing the worst is behind me (foreshadow).

Are you kidding me? Wave three is in the house. Shrouded with shame and trepidation, I again head for the bathroom. It’s hard to believe I had anything left, but I did. With sheer relief because I felt so much better and knew I got it all out, I flushed the toilet. Only this time, the water hesitated as if to say, “Really? You really think you can drop this kind of a load and I’m just going to take it with no consequences?” I watched the water churn slowly, then it started to rise. Little whispers and pleas flew from mouth, “Just go down. Please go down. If you go down I’ll do anything. I’ll join a convent. I’ll stop having pre-martial sex. I’ll give all my savings from working at Roy Rogers to charity. Anything!” But, the toilet gods did not listen and did not care. The shit water rose and rose until it was spilling and gushing from the toilet. I pulled up the small rectangular rug on the floor and watched, horrified, as the shit water started to seep under the door and out into the hallway.

Now, stop reading for a moment, and think to yourself. WWID? What would I do? Seriously. What would you do? What could I do? It’s not like I could sneak out the back window, although I wanted to. I had to call for help. I had to call the first love of my life who I had not so much as farted in front of to help me. “Michael!” I yelped from the bathroom. Michael came over and screamed, “OH MY GOD!” He then called in Poppie, who kindly told me to step aside as he brought in the mop.

And there you have it, my friends. Don’t ever say I didn’t tell you my deepest and darkest secrets. I think since I just put this out there, the least you can do is send a damn picture.

Drinking: Kirkland coffee brewed by Starbucks