tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69368596005444541902024-03-05T21:46:41.418-06:00Skidmarks & Push-up Bras: My Life as a Single Mom of a Little BoyBeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-70011082257234686572023-04-15T06:24:00.000-05:002023-04-15T06:24:38.706-05:0075 Hard: A Review<p>Thanks to Instagram, 75 Hard is pretty well known in the fitness world. But contrary to popular belief, it's NOT a fitness program. It's not a weight loss or diet program. It's a test of discipline, and that involves showing up and following a strict set of rules for 75 days. Do people get fit and lose weight on this program? Typically, yes. But those are just added bonuses of the other changes you are making, of showing up and following the rules.</p><p>In case you aren't super familiar with the rules, here they are:</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyR5xXfprXT7iHvkQ_EOem3pXruEFrR_RawUjM00e3alNzAv1GD0A4PTUcfii-_cRAnh5hxGDOx0njQYShslC7__z5bgYTOIG3KUZa80GbSKbCTFPV_XfGkkTiUTStvYDF7xulFOFpM5KNONYxGDT3P_i-p9gEmVSzTAThGsHtwfd4KRUAE0lleair" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="656" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyR5xXfprXT7iHvkQ_EOem3pXruEFrR_RawUjM00e3alNzAv1GD0A4PTUcfii-_cRAnh5hxGDOx0njQYShslC7__z5bgYTOIG3KUZa80GbSKbCTFPV_XfGkkTiUTStvYDF7xulFOFpM5KNONYxGDT3P_i-p9gEmVSzTAThGsHtwfd4KRUAE0lleair" width="131" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I honestly never thought I would do the program. It seemed unsustainable and way too difficult. I knew how to get healthy and fit without working out twice a day and abstaining from alcohol and following a strict diet to a T. I've done it for years. Why make it harder on myself?</p><p>The problem was that I WASN'T doing those things. I had lost my discipline. I wasn't getting healthy and fit, I wasn't working out consistently, I wasn't abstaining from alcohol, even in the slightest. In fact, in those weeks before starting 75 Hard, I was binging my favorite comfort foods like a crazy person and drinking several bottles of wine a week. Some days, I only drank coffee and alcohol. </p><p>So, I decided to look more into 75 Hard and see what exactly it entailed. That's when I realized it wasn't what I thought it was. For one, walks and runs count as a workout. I thought people were doing two 45 minute strength workouts every day for 75 days, and THAT is not sustainable. For another, I thought the "diet" had to be extreme. But it can be what you want it to be. Macros, Keto, Paleo, whatever. I like macros and have been successful with tracking since 2020, so that was doable for me.</p><p>The final piece that I had to wrap my mind around was the alcohol piece. 75 days is a long time. That meant no wine on Pizza Fridays for 10 weeks. No happy hour with friends and coworkers. Minimal or no restaurant visits due to that temptation to break the diet or alcohol rule. But I ultimately decided that I needed to at least try.</p><p>I'll break down each rule and how I managed each, my thoughts on it, what I will maintain vs what I won't now that the program is done, and if/how I would do it differently.</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="color: red;"><b><u>TWO 45 MINUTE WORKOUTS - ONE MUST BE OUTSIDE:</u></b></span></p><p>Once I realized that these could be whatever I wanted them to be, I made the choice to do 3-4 strength workouts a week using the program I wrote a couple months back. The other 45 minute workouts of the week would be walks and runs. Totally doable.</p><p>Most weeks, I did 3 strength workouts instead of 4, mainly due to being too sore to run, which was a priority for me. A typical week was a leg day, an upper body day, and a full body. Some days it was 2 upper body/ab days to spare my legs for my long runs. Many of my walks were at 4:45am with Levi. I grew to love these. I love to be outside and this program forced me out the door every day. I walked in ice, rain, humidity, and wind sometimes, but most of them were really nice as long as I dressed for the weather. Levi definitely got his share of exercise! </p><p>In total:</p><p>Walks: 214.3 miles</p><p>Runs: 100.5 miles</p><p>Steps: 1,101,852</p><p>45 minutes doesn't sound like a long time, but let me tell you, some of those walks lasted foreverrrrr. They felt never-ending. I'd think I was walking for 30 minutes and I'd look at my watch and realize it had been 15. The closer I got to day 75, the longer they felt.</p><p>No regrets about how I handled this rule. I chose something sustainable for me. I was tired and didn't always want to workout or walk, but I still had something in the tank. </p><p>Post 75 Hard plans:</p><p>* 3 Full Body workouts a week</p><p>* 2 short runs and 1 long run a week</p><p>* Continue with outdoor walks. Maybe not always 45 minutes, but definitely almost daily.</p><p><br /></p><p><b><span style="color: red;"><u>Follow a Diet:</u></span></b></p><p>This rule can be whatever diet you want, but it needed to be fairly clean, healthy, and no "cheats". I personally hate the word "cheat" when it comes to food, because you can eat whatever you want in moderation and still be healthy. Since I was already a pro with macros, I chose this route. I could eat what I wanted (e.g. no cutting of entire food groups), and since I had done it before, I could handle it.</p><p>I used Avatar because it's an awesome, accurate app. They set my macros for 1700. I wasn't mad about it at first. But when you're walking quite literally ONE MILLION steps and moving your body a minimum of 90 minutes every.single.day, 1700 starts to wear on you. By day 30, I was mildly annoyed. But you're not supposed to change your diet once you start the program. It defeats the purpose of sticking to something. So I stuck it out.</p><p>Don't get me wrong, I ate well. I just wanted MORE. Here's an example of a typical day of eating:</p><p>Breakfast: mini bagel, 1/2 an avocado, ham or chicken sausage, strawberries, coffee</p><p>Snack 1: protein pudding + a banana</p><p>Lunch: a bowl with sweet potatoes, chicken, goat cheese, dried cranberries, and strawberries</p><p>Snack 2: Built bar</p><p>Dinner: Burger and roasted potatoes</p><p>Dessert: Protein microwave cake with nut butter</p><p>I "cheated" ZERO times. Not one morsel outside of what I tracked. It was tough but I was determined. I'm already a natural rule follower, so I didn't want to half-ass it just because nobody would know. The key was eating things I liked and spreading it out so I rarely got too hungry.</p><p>I saw physical changes around day 19. I hit my lowest weight in 4 years on day 57, and I was extra EXTRA annoyed by the lack of food between days 45-55. I lost a total of 12 lbs. This was very unexpected. Not only did I not think I had 12 lbs to LOSE, but I haven't seen my current weight in a long time and I was ok with that. In fact, I've been more fit than I am now, yet 7 lbs heavier. The scale definitely doesn't tell the full story. </p><p>I missed going out to dinner, going to happy hour, and grabbing random snacks when I wanted them. I skipped cookies and queso at work, ordered the healthiest thing on the menu at a work luncheon, and didn't try little snacks that Isaac would bring home from work. </p><p>But on a positive note, I no longer turned to binge eating for comfort. My reflux was almost non-existent, I ate more slowly to savor the food, and I learned that I do in fact have self control when I choose to.</p><p>Post 75 Hard plan: Take a break from tracking my food and weighing myself. Eat mindfully and mostly healthy. After 75 days of strictness, I'm sick of weighing out my strawberries. I just wanna eat.</p><p><br /></p><p><b><u><span style="color: red;">No Alcohol or Cheat Meals</span></u></b></p><p>As I said before, the alcohol rule was the one rule that I felt would be unsustainable for me. I know that sounds terrible, but I really do enjoy having a beverage. I love wine with my pizza/pasta, I love happy hour with friends, and I love beer on the lake and at baseball games. My alcohol consumption had gotten a little out of control over the last couple years, so I knew I needed to reign it in a little. I worried that I wouldn't make it 2 weeks before I failed. But I surprised myself.</p><p>Within a few weeks, I barely thought about alcohol. I didn't crave it like I expected, and I only really thought about it if I saw it in public or on social media. I avoided restaurants to eliminate that desire. Don't get me wrong, I have no plans to be sober forever. I will return to drinking alcohol now that the program is complete. But I taught myself self-control, alternate options to enjoy, and gave my liver a break. No regrets and I'm very proud of making it 75 days.</p><p>Post 75 Hard plan: Drink socially and in moderation, not several nights a week.</p><p>Also as I mentioned before, I hate the term "cheat meal". It's food. Just eat it. So my post 75 Hard plan with that rule is to just eat. Nothing is a "cheat" anymore.</p><p><br /></p><p><b><u><span style="color: red;">Drink 1 gallon of water a day:</span></u></b></p><p>I suck at drinking water. I honestly rarely think about it. I don't really get thirsty during the day, so my days usually just consisted of morning coffee, an occasional sip of water here and there, and some wine at night. I knew a GALLON would be tough.</p><p>This was a learning curve. I realized very quickly that I needed to drink it gradually throughout the day, and earlier in the day. If I got behind, not only would I have to chug it and feel bloated, but then I would pee 6 times at night. I never really learned my lesson throughout the 75 days. I woke up a LOT to pee at night. A LOT. And I may have peed my pants twice after drinking a ton and then going on a 2 mile walk far from home.</p><p>Post 75 Hard plan: Aim for at least 64 ounces but try to get more if possible. Sleep more at night. Don't pee my pants.</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="color: red;"><b><u>Read 10 pages of Non-fiction (no audiobooks):</u></b></span></p><p>You wouldn't think this would be hard, especially since I love to read. But I do NOT love to read non-fiction. Give me a novel all day long, but non-fiction? Laaaaame. I never really grew to LOVE this rule, but I did read some semi-enjoyable books:</p><p><b>Atomic Habits by James Clear</b> - A mix of boring and interesting. Helpful information but I wouldn't say I loved it. Kinda like reading a textbook.</p><p><b>Single on Purpose by John Kim</b> - Loved it. For someone who has been "single on purpose" for 4 years, this book spoke to me, plus the author is funny.</p><p><b>Anxious in Love by Carolyn Daitch and Lissah Lorberbaum</b> - Meh. Did not like this one at all. I'm an anxious person, especially in relationships, but this book was pretty dumb. The suggestions and exercises were ridiculous. I didn't finish it.</p><p><b>Run to the Finish by Amanda Brooks</b> - Loved every page of this. I have followed Amanda on Instagram for years. This book is informative, funny, and just a great book for a middle-of-the-pack runner like myself. Highly recommended.</p><p><b><u><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></u></b></p><p><b><u><span style="color: red;">Take a progress picture:</span></u></b></p><p>This was the easiest rule to follow. Did I love seeing myself in the mirror in my underwear and morning face every single morning? Nope. But I took the picture first thing in the morning before I did anything else so I would never forget. It was slightly helpful for seeing small physical changes to give that extra motivation boost. Sometimes I hardly noticed ANY progress. But when I compare the picture from day 1 to day 75, it's huge. Plus, I'm a big fan of progress pictures. It says more than a scale ever could. I personally like different mirrors and lighting. </p><div><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDVvUGEon4EKj21UT74wrBhazCSzT9GQ-KhQDHbfy141ikBLrJGZHCAISJnmfb3Fv8nn7r2fJFVgJvur58gS7XL0z4_c6L_-ootUu-WPfx7W1eH8lPyTI12M2YWfJigK9n4RBPR1x1ZX3W6et95vSVtJtJOS6lEFzTF28k41YyrJ7r0VA3KtdgIEqv/s2880/20230414_054844.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2880" data-original-width="2880" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDVvUGEon4EKj21UT74wrBhazCSzT9GQ-KhQDHbfy141ikBLrJGZHCAISJnmfb3Fv8nn7r2fJFVgJvur58gS7XL0z4_c6L_-ootUu-WPfx7W1eH8lPyTI12M2YWfJigK9n4RBPR1x1ZX3W6et95vSVtJtJOS6lEFzTF28k41YyrJ7r0VA3KtdgIEqv/w198-h198/20230414_054844.jpg" width="198" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyKxsQFBPd7RFPWNt54HrfOPUbCehAzita0ToGLXoYNzy1Sm12F-_4-4Aas7CpKK-F3Xlpsb0Hj7kUzDhccDNXgQo_37DepJg6DnBFjwE913tUmoJdCWu619SpEsNA7LN_ijkXRQ_PTq435nxzBPOH0Zj1vXD4WzA8P9GgMrQv85lyMES0z6qMIYps/s2880/20230414_054948.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2880" data-original-width="2880" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyKxsQFBPd7RFPWNt54HrfOPUbCehAzita0ToGLXoYNzy1Sm12F-_4-4Aas7CpKK-F3Xlpsb0Hj7kUzDhccDNXgQo_37DepJg6DnBFjwE913tUmoJdCWu619SpEsNA7LN_ijkXRQ_PTq435nxzBPOH0Zj1vXD4WzA8P9GgMrQv85lyMES0z6qMIYps/w198-h198/20230414_054948.jpg" width="198" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin59W6pYLr-xC5ZKD4wRJtUcFQ_sTXrPT05iMAcECG2LaZ0HKCo1ey0KfYfk9rRK6DW3tcq1ruoM4Z_y6SNI-V-YKwoXFq-GVUxqMNl-r80nncntZ9Rdb7OBq5pvHbs01KioYLtE4pB1HgIEK8JxeoZnzSsxzZpjuPdGIHAc2BoDv3vAn7Gdnncj_6/s2880/20230414_055105.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2880" data-original-width="2880" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin59W6pYLr-xC5ZKD4wRJtUcFQ_sTXrPT05iMAcECG2LaZ0HKCo1ey0KfYfk9rRK6DW3tcq1ruoM4Z_y6SNI-V-YKwoXFq-GVUxqMNl-r80nncntZ9Rdb7OBq5pvHbs01KioYLtE4pB1HgIEK8JxeoZnzSsxzZpjuPdGIHAc2BoDv3vAn7Gdnncj_6/w201-h201/20230414_055105.jpg" width="201" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><br /></div><p><b><u>Common questions I received throughout my journey:</u></b></p><p>1. What's been the hardest part? This varied by day, depending on how I felt. I'd say most often, it was the food piece. Some days it was that 2nd 45 minute workout when I just wanted to rest. Other days, it was choking down a gallon of water. It changes throughout the 75 days.</p><p>2. Would you do it again? Probably not. It was quite the journey and I am proud to have accomplished it, but it is restrictive and I'm getting to the point in my life where I don't want restriction. I want health and happiness and I know I can have that without restrictions and strict rules. </p><p>3. What did you like most about it? I loved having an end goal. Knowing that I was doing something hard and becoming the disciplined person I used to be again, and watching the days tick away on the app. I also loved having the support of all of my Insta friends. I received many messages throughout the 75 days and I appreciate every one of them.</p><p>4. What did you hate the most? Probably the word "fail". Like, it's in the app if you make a mistake on one of your days - FAIL. Not a fan. </p><p><b><u>Advice for those who are considering it:</u></b></p><p>1. Drink your water early and use a straw.</p><p>2. Do a sustainable diet. If you can go 75 days without bread, go for it. Hard pass for me.</p><p>3. Choose a workout routine you love.</p><p>4. Take your picture first thing in the morning before you get dressed.</p><p>5. Read your 10 pages in the morning instead of accidentally forgetting at night.</p><p>6. Do the program at a time when there are very few distractions and difficulties. I did mine during a time when I had several breaks from work, no major holidays/meals (except Easter), and only two small road trips where I planned ahead with my food and walks.</p><p>7. Ask yourself why. Why do you want to do it? What's your purpose? You can absolutely do it for aesthetic reasons, but if that's the only reason you're doing it, you can achieve that without all these rules. Do it for you.</p><p>8. Plan ahead. Know what you're eating every day, pack your food, check the weather for your outdoor workout the day before, and know when you are going to get both in.</p><p><br /></p><p>I feel proud of myself for finishing the program and I can cross that off my list of hard things I have set my mind to and gotten through with some perseverance. I feel like I am finally back on track after a year of spiraling both physically and mentally. 2023 is already feeling so much more positive and happy and healthy. </p><p><br /></p><p>Dues paid! ✔</p>Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-82621431891833989242021-01-31T08:07:00.000-06:002021-01-31T08:07:07.059-06:00What I Learned From a 30-Day Shred<p><span style="font-size: 16px;">Over the last month, I have participated in a 30-day shred program that I came across on Instagram. I liked the recipes that the trainer had posted, and her before/after pictures of the program were impressive. So I decided to drop the $99 and start 2021 off with a challenge. </span></p><span style="font-size: 16px;">This particular trainer is focused on macros for nutrition, which was right up my alley since I have done macros since July. The workout program is 5 days a week, which was where the challenge came in for me. I typically work out 3 days a week on a good week, plus running. So I knew it would step it up a little for me. </span>
<br><br><span style="font-size: 16px;">You start by filling out a questionnaire where you tell her your activity level, typical calories, weight, goals, etc. She is supposed to use this questionnaire to set your macros for the program. A few days before the program started, I received an email with my set macros and I nearly cried. It was as though she had not even read the questionnaire because she set my macros at 1630. To some, that might seem like a good amount of calories. But you can eat way more than you think you can. </span><div><span style="font-size: 16px;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px;">People, particularly women, get the number '1200' in their heads when it comes to "healthy" calories and what they need to lose weight. But throughout my time doing macros, I have learned that if you are fairly active, you can eat way closer to 1800 - 2000 rather than 1200. Maybe even more, especially if you are doing cardio, which I do a LOT of with running, which I told her. But since I had paid $99 for the program, I decided to give it a shot. I am a rule follower and if I sign up for something, I tend to follow it to a tee.</span>
<br><br><span style="font-size: 16px;">Let me tell you, it only took about 5 days for me to start to lose my mind on those macros. It was just way too low for me. I had spent the last 2 months prior to the program eating close to 2100 calories and gradually losing a little bit. So going from 2100 calories and losing (which means even that was lower than my maintenance), to 1630 calories was a significant drop. I felt it physically and mentally. My mood was shit.</span> </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br><span style="font-size: 16px;">I stuck to the macros for the first 7 days. Day 8, I had a little bit of a splurge fest but still lower than I was eating before. I did 4 more days on point, followed by 4 more days of splurging because my body was begging me for food. And repeat. A few days on macros, a few going over. </span>
<br><br><span style="font-size: 16px;">By day 16, I decided I was done doing the whole restrict/splurge cycle. That's not a healthy lifestyle at all, and honestly one of the biggest issues with "dieting". From then forward, I would keep tracking, but just eat a normal amount of food, normal portions, when I was hungry. If I ended up hitting my low macros, then great. But if it was a day where I was extra hungry and I went over, oh well. I would then average everything at the end of the 30 days to see where I ended up landing. Either way, I knew I was going to be in a deficit. </span></div><div><br></div><div>
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</div><br><br><span style="font-size: 16px;">Days 20-22 were spent camping. I tracked it, but definitely ate closer to 2100-2400 than 1630. Hard to partake in Hobo pies and wine and beer and cheese on low macros. But on the flip side, when I got home, I still felt bloated so I wasn't as hungry and I ate much less. It evened out. </span>
<br><br><span style="font-size: 16px;">Final average:</span>
<br><br><span style="font-size: 16px;">Set macros: 1630</span><br>
<span style="font-size: 16px;">My final average of the 26 days (I called it quits early): 1868</span>
<br><br><span style="font-size: 16px;">See? Still a deficit from my normal 2100. But I did what I needed to do to not gnaw my arm off or murder someone. And enjoyed a camping trip with family without restricting myself. You will never see me turn down camping food, cheese, or a beverage. I'm not about that life. My parents have always had a giant Sam's Club sized block of sharp cheddar in their fridge at all times since I was little. This giant block of cheese came on that camping trip and I was there for it.</span></div><div><br></div><div>In defense of this lady and her program (which I have chosen not to mention by name on here out of respect since I'm kinda bashing her macros), it IS called a "SHRED". So her low ass calories were for a purpose - results in a short amount of time. And I DID get results. Not on the scale, but in measurements and in pictures. Nothing mind-blowing, but results nonetheless. </div><div><br></div><div>Weight loss: 0</div><div>Waist: -1.5"</div><div>Bust: -0.5"</div><div>Thighs: -0.5" each</div><div>Hips: -0.5"</div><div><br></div><div>Funny, huh? Lower calories than I was used to (even with adding some), lots of workouts, yet the scale didn't move? It moved more when I was doing 2000 calories. </div><div><br></div><div>So many factors play into the scale. One of them being that your body actually requires food. And if you restrict TOO much, you can see the reverse effect. Google "cortisol and weight loss". My body was stressed as hell. 😂</div><div><br></div><div>Here's the before and after:</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>Proof is in the pudding that a) the scale isn't everything, and b) you don't need extremely low calories on top of workouts and cardio to get some results. I'd rather eat a lot of food and workout in a way I enjoy, and gradually get sustainable results.</div><div><br><span style="font-size: 16px;">One positive of the last 30 days was the workout program. I actually did love this a lot. That first week, 5 days of strength workouts was tough because my whole body hurt. My butt muscles were like, what are we doing here? Staaaaahp!</span>
<br><br><span style="font-size: 16px;">But by week 2, I got into a good rhythm and enjoyed the extra workouts. I kept doing run sprints for my HIIT, and considered my long run the MISS (moderate intensity steady state).</span> By week 4, I ended up cutting out the running altogether because it just made me more hungry, and I was tired. Runners need to EAT!</div><div><br></div><div>In summary, these are the things I learned or re-realized on this program:</div><div><br></div><div>A) I love to eat. Shocker. </div><div>B) I really do love macros, but not in a restrictive way. They can truly transform your body if you do it correctly. But I'm not a good "dieter". Just feed me. </div><div>C) 30 days is not enough time to see major gains. I already knew this but they really get you with those progress photos. You have to be realistic and not play the comparison game. </div><div>D) I'd rather have a chubby butt than to eat 1600 calories for a month and risk losing my job with my attitude.</div><div>E) I love running. The significant decrease in running because of my decision to do this program has made me realize how much I actually love it and how much it makes my soul happy. Can't wait to get back to it, after my stupid hip stops getting in my way. </div><div><br><span style="font-size: 16px;">Now that that's over, I've decided I'm going to spend the next month and change between now and the half marathon not tracking at all. I love macros and they really helped me to get back on track in 2020, but I've always been a pretty successful intuitive eater. So I'm going to give that a go again, and see how I do. I don't like focusing so much on my food. I just want to eat and enjoy it. This program made me realize how much I want that lifestyle again. </span><br><!--/data/user/0/com.samsung.android.app.notes/files/clipdata/clipdata_bodytext_210129_155423_785.sdocx--></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px;">I may go back to macros later depending on how I do in Feb/March. It's enjoyable to me (well, before this program, it was) and I do have some fitness goals for 2021. But will play it by ear.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px;"><br></span></div><div>If you have any questions about this shred, the workouts, macros, whatever, let me know! Happy to share my thoughts on the topics.</div>Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-89677019677880094932020-12-12T07:49:00.000-06:002020-12-12T07:49:08.831-06:00The ABCs of ME - Part I<p>Since becoming more active on Instagram over the last few years, I have made a ton of friends and have felt more acceptance for all of my quirkiness than I ever have in "real life". I've never really had a ton of friends - my circle has always been small - and I'm ok with that. My true friends are the ones who know the nerdy freak I am on the inside and still like me.</p><p>One of my favorite things on Instagram that has really helped me learn about others - things you wouldn't know just by looking at their day-to-day posts - are the "About me" posts that people occasionally write. I have read some of the most random, awesome, hilarious facts about the people I follow, and I love it! We are human, after all. We're not all running and workouts and filters and macros. We're everyday people, and no matter if you want to admit it or not, we're all weirdos in some way and sometimes not what others expect.</p><p>I've posted an About Me or two over the years but decided I was overdue for another, in more detail apparently, because the amount of useless information about myself far exceeds the number of characters Instagram allows. And honestly, if you manage to get through this entire long ass post (and the next one, because who wants to read 26 paragraphs in one sitting?), you the real MVP. Because seriously, it's a lot of random BS. </p><p>So here it is, the ABCs of Becca - Part I. Enjoy!</p><p><b>A. AWKWARD</b>. Let's just go ahead and start with the main adjective for myself. I grew up shy and awkward, and it bled into adulthood. I laugh at inappropriate, uncomfortable times (i.e. if someone is ugly crying, and once even laughed during prayer at a funeral...my mom was pissed), I say stupid things in moments of nervousness, and eye contact is not my favorite. I fake it to make it daily at my job. People think I'm super outgoing. I am not.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8BnxZLtAM88iCr1MvYkxBlLCTRAzWFFwrzlODq_RvDX0SDhJ1jvbleCDK2QAnJHtWr8VUMGyuBJLdR22-Kl1tazSy_FGhNWVDyQ3cIJEO7oZtX4DvywDwLF6a4UW-gvUFNVfKdklCyI/s500/awkward+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="407" data-original-width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8BnxZLtAM88iCr1MvYkxBlLCTRAzWFFwrzlODq_RvDX0SDhJ1jvbleCDK2QAnJHtWr8VUMGyuBJLdR22-Kl1tazSy_FGhNWVDyQ3cIJEO7oZtX4DvywDwLF6a4UW-gvUFNVfKdklCyI/s320/awkward+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>B. BBG</b> - the main reason I became active on Instagram. I found out about BBG from hashtags on Insta back in 2017. And the rest is history. It has been my go-to workout program since then. I'm old-school and have always used the PDFs. It is NO JOKE and you WILL get results if you put in the work. As I sit here unable to cough or move or breathe because my abs are crying from week 2. These are a couple of my Before-After pics.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX4kcthm_L6xuMVZ5VnpKMWDshIYVb-yf7qhRhcKqfKPvwUgLc9rtDgBovKSUxHfHTWTJ7dmY3SKu3u9oP9KRgdBkC1m40gsefnNY3LiW_YbZJU9GNBrYRJgea16Xp2dEhova5nvIc-ow/s1080/Screenshot_20201211-185438_Instagram.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1080" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX4kcthm_L6xuMVZ5VnpKMWDshIYVb-yf7qhRhcKqfKPvwUgLc9rtDgBovKSUxHfHTWTJ7dmY3SKu3u9oP9KRgdBkC1m40gsefnNY3LiW_YbZJU9GNBrYRJgea16Xp2dEhova5nvIc-ow/w240-h237/Screenshot_20201211-185438_Instagram.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_QIDw9VqHywLAycBmWZiy8-TQAGKU4-vRxHW5o003-Mz6LnflPIBoLknhPi-Q9TnU5DN_XdppVOCRDeRdGUpAKxfm3CPZBCA4f9Tw6FuDSTcDWVuMeujmVOTyn8txLjkEivASt98bEc/s1078/Screenshot_20201211-185541_Instagram.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1078" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_QIDw9VqHywLAycBmWZiy8-TQAGKU4-vRxHW5o003-Mz6LnflPIBoLknhPi-Q9TnU5DN_XdppVOCRDeRdGUpAKxfm3CPZBCA4f9Tw6FuDSTcDWVuMeujmVOTyn8txLjkEivASt98bEc/w243-h241/Screenshot_20201211-185541_Instagram.jpg" width="243" /></a></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>C. Cats</b>. If you've followed me for more than 2 seconds, you know I am a cat freak. I have 3, one of which I am probably a little too obsessed with. I've had cats my entire life. I spent the majority of my childhood in my closet with my cats dressed in baby pajamas so they couldn't run away. (See A above.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqUMPKuot3Tmydbzpj8JzScTJMx7KCngRPfmGdIGYs6bsn0rikpPBgKYO0m9tWaBIQ6KkeXQ9aQDlSK2ngInzv4KJ-eh06H0oblQerkA5KutT97RlWMX_Uq37HW22Qz2SOFXvABPEKmmo/s1080/tempFileForShare_20201211-190837.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1080" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqUMPKuot3Tmydbzpj8JzScTJMx7KCngRPfmGdIGYs6bsn0rikpPBgKYO0m9tWaBIQ6KkeXQ9aQDlSK2ngInzv4KJ-eh06H0oblQerkA5KutT97RlWMX_Uq37HW22Qz2SOFXvABPEKmmo/w219-h216/tempFileForShare_20201211-190837.jpg" width="219" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>D. Donuts</b> - I freaking love donuts! One of my favorite memories from childhood was weekend donuts from either Ryke's Bakery or Wesco in Muskegon, MI. Donuts bring me joy. I had a coworker/friend who always brought Friday donuts to work, and to this day, he is my favorite former coworker. 😂 I think he did it because he knew my grumpy ass was DONE with that place by Friday morning. I'm going to need my future husband to wake me up on a Saturday morning with a dozen donuts and a hot black coffee. This is the way to my heart. There, now you know. I really am easy to please.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbmSNowD-1cwYD8h1D5QqaK4Id8Eo5Jk-aPKozsGoH-0mOwrznZz4gQ3A_hRoieiBpYChZLp5EQuJtMqjc7WcOFVCPWZHwaqzlx3sUIgYIAxsVSm9B_mw9NeHOtReAj2ml_CnCt7jeNB4/s736/donut.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="736" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbmSNowD-1cwYD8h1D5QqaK4Id8Eo5Jk-aPKozsGoH-0mOwrznZz4gQ3A_hRoieiBpYChZLp5EQuJtMqjc7WcOFVCPWZHwaqzlx3sUIgYIAxsVSm9B_mw9NeHOtReAj2ml_CnCt7jeNB4/w217-h196/donut.jpg" width="217" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>E. Enneagram 6</b> - THIS IS ME TO A T. Which Enneagram are you?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoHjEJvmCryfZXwHpuH7DrN-hezvMXk7J8aJ6KuvMKIP_ADHOGESdUlzPvN5aN4c_17eM-vHSSdRYZopu-jk3QDauDM-4_KB2EOpJ4e2qmasgmuMVLmkYymOycbCQ8zdka4Ksy9RBU4lA/s1080/20201211_192436.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1080" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoHjEJvmCryfZXwHpuH7DrN-hezvMXk7J8aJ6KuvMKIP_ADHOGESdUlzPvN5aN4c_17eM-vHSSdRYZopu-jk3QDauDM-4_KB2EOpJ4e2qmasgmuMVLmkYymOycbCQ8zdka4Ksy9RBU4lA/w201-h200/20201211_192436.jpg" width="201" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-vw7F9OI6eCgrTiAq-YZnIiWyqqJdJQ69eKJkwmwCPTBMfBbRMQ-O3gnUZl0U0f0_RJGnaMNChLiRbvHPTezrwKC5DTP6FXN-LAP4hIpHOBetE2AfmeP3Y1oIVmie9tpyKn7bjRIyqM/s1080/20201211_192418.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="981" data-original-width="1080" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-vw7F9OI6eCgrTiAq-YZnIiWyqqJdJQ69eKJkwmwCPTBMfBbRMQ-O3gnUZl0U0f0_RJGnaMNChLiRbvHPTezrwKC5DTP6FXN-LAP4hIpHOBetE2AfmeP3Y1oIVmie9tpyKn7bjRIyqM/w208-h189/20201211_192418.jpg" width="208" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>F. Food</b>. My Instagram handle literally has the word FOOD in it. I have been obsessed with food since birth. I've always been a big eater and I get overly excited about my next meal. I eat ridiculously fast and have to force myself to eat at a normal pace when eating with others. When I was in 6th grade, I got so excited for lunch every day that my teacher told me since I kept running to the door at lunchtime, I would be the last one out of the room the next day. Well, I showed him. I waited until he was standing in the hall and I booked it through the classroom...and immediately tripped over a desk leg, busted my face, and ended up covering my pink cat sweater in blood. I needed several stitches to close the gash above my eye. My sister has never let me forget this. She has also never let me forget the time I barely chewed my burrito, and then threw it up all over my bedroom floor, practically still whole. I have a problem.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYEFyzl9u8fYUK8GLoErMgwl2fQn7rcFeYpA7VOPe4-CYph4IGMcdTuUorHNSRgYMGtYMVhcLBohT5w3ORpyEuQIox0X7DJ4j_UCcno2UEl-DMuc8KKaCyS3Nul_7gQ7J-Xr70jpd_1Lo/s800/pizza.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="554" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYEFyzl9u8fYUK8GLoErMgwl2fQn7rcFeYpA7VOPe4-CYph4IGMcdTuUorHNSRgYMGtYMVhcLBohT5w3ORpyEuQIox0X7DJ4j_UCcno2UEl-DMuc8KKaCyS3Nul_7gQ7J-Xr70jpd_1Lo/w147-h213/pizza.jpg" width="147" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>G. Gassy</b>. I have no shame. I am the son my dad always wanted and the brother my sisters never did. I belched so loudly in my car today that I looked over to the car next to me to make sure they didn't hear me through 2 layers of closed windows and traffic noise. Not sorry.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq3ENxVVu3qSp_LmFGPUtTcM8Sfv8EMF4FZKNV-ZVRv9dWKXXOEYDapTGElIYwdaFAwPX2qpK9H7u19E3EIVVuAVFEXA7mLIRCHzkMv68zt2WsVY82CajZId7QH8WIa6jsa6YtpCSrLTE/s620/burp+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="620" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq3ENxVVu3qSp_LmFGPUtTcM8Sfv8EMF4FZKNV-ZVRv9dWKXXOEYDapTGElIYwdaFAwPX2qpK9H7u19E3EIVVuAVFEXA7mLIRCHzkMv68zt2WsVY82CajZId7QH8WIa6jsa6YtpCSrLTE/w261-h168/burp+%25282%2529.jpg" width="261" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>H. Humor</b>. I pretty much think everything is funny. Gross humor, sexual humor, bathroom humor, inappropriate humor. More than a handful of times a day, I read something hilarious and while laughing out loud, I say, "OMG, that's terrible!" The more terrible, the harder I am probably laughing. I am a child. I am a huge fan of memes, and will send you funny memes based on what I think you can handle. Once I determine that you won't be offended by me, the memes progress. I also think I'm hilarious, even though my friend, my sister, and my kid tell me otherwise. Whatevs... I'm a hoot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTY8o89PZjAKdqJjxYV_6ScbfkhCi5qb7_5YEY1ZHnDfCZOz1C2SFAA3_IfNrC3tJ4ZMHf7Fz9zNrwPx9JAHlFhITJjC6_CG0kYY6N_24CVFbovaP1_iFDlIqR7sCVebtoD6E3hUNubR8/s977/tempFileForShare_20201211-200853.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="842" data-original-width="977" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTY8o89PZjAKdqJjxYV_6ScbfkhCi5qb7_5YEY1ZHnDfCZOz1C2SFAA3_IfNrC3tJ4ZMHf7Fz9zNrwPx9JAHlFhITJjC6_CG0kYY6N_24CVFbovaP1_iFDlIqR7sCVebtoD6E3hUNubR8/w199-h171/tempFileForShare_20201211-200853.jpg" width="199" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>I. Independent</b>. I'm extremely independent. I've been single for a year and a half, I've gone to the movies by myself, I've taken a weekend trip alone, I'll eat in a restaurant alone. Doesn't bother me! I've been told I'm "too independent", but I don't think that's a thing. I still PREFER to do those things with someone I enjoy being around, but I honestly don't mind being alone. I think that's healthy. But on the flip side of being independent, when I'm in a true relationship with someone I really like, I'm all in. I'm not distant and avoidant of time spent with them whatsoever. But I know who I am and what I like, and I have no qualms about a Friday night spent alone in my underwear, beer/wine in hand, Hallmark movie on the tv, food I don't have to share in my lap. Not sharing my food is my favorite.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr9WB3_kWkxrwmYqb1h9fra9VnzceUY3vfNKIgFhuh4XzJKRU9o7WGnLueFo0jjdEf9QBLUW0nB-ZyXZH9EOhoeKRFdnlwV5FHEuN25mE_rQeDA3uFJKPbNl8ujMfwtMVUzuz7F8y5qQE/s612/sharing.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="500" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr9WB3_kWkxrwmYqb1h9fra9VnzceUY3vfNKIgFhuh4XzJKRU9o7WGnLueFo0jjdEf9QBLUW0nB-ZyXZH9EOhoeKRFdnlwV5FHEuN25mE_rQeDA3uFJKPbNl8ujMfwtMVUzuz7F8y5qQE/w166-h203/sharing.jpg" width="166" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>J. July</b> - my favorite month of the year. It's the middle of summer, all sunshine and no rain in Texas. Pool days, the middle of baseball season, Thirsty Thursday at the ballpark lazy river when 2020 isn't ruining the minor league baseball season, the 4th of July (my favorite holiday), cookouts, paddleboarding on the lake, flip flops, tan lines. I am truly happy in July. 💓</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFfV3oKLiTiUZrwwjdWE4RZp31yyTbYwA_a3frOzyvr1rgJJFUaD3VJGvJ2VPPOsEstoxKH_NwtijZpavZ_KCuoVbiXZ9TQdKw5SJ-oALB-9DVw03ZFYQjPL7nMLR_HxFDPOrB5rpfikA/s1287/Screenshot_20201211-203009_Instagram.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1287" data-original-width="1080" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFfV3oKLiTiUZrwwjdWE4RZp31yyTbYwA_a3frOzyvr1rgJJFUaD3VJGvJ2VPPOsEstoxKH_NwtijZpavZ_KCuoVbiXZ9TQdKw5SJ-oALB-9DVw03ZFYQjPL7nMLR_HxFDPOrB5rpfikA/w174-h207/Screenshot_20201211-203009_Instagram.jpg" width="174" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi8Lp4pPZya5_0MLqsBOwF2iuacyY0m07vAALPTyucThJgkmYp-2yLojPUx7z51oraLQdjOcpcsurIZTBdrx6NXCRnVhrHY7dLisGHZgSXBzpPLliSExpnShUCN_vKbsm_B4jHjywrTBQ/s1348/tempFileForShare_20201211-202703.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1348" data-original-width="1080" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi8Lp4pPZya5_0MLqsBOwF2iuacyY0m07vAALPTyucThJgkmYp-2yLojPUx7z51oraLQdjOcpcsurIZTBdrx6NXCRnVhrHY7dLisGHZgSXBzpPLliSExpnShUCN_vKbsm_B4jHjywrTBQ/w167-h209/tempFileForShare_20201211-202703.jpg" width="167" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>K. Kid.</b> My favorite person on the planet and a favorite amongst even the least kid-friendly adults. He's easy-going, witty, smart, sarcastic, kind, and not a parent-teacher goes by where they don't tell me how funny he is. The kid has no filter and some of the things that come out of his mouth shock me into silence before making me laugh out loud. He roasts his mom like a champ. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkXQ6GeAEWGx-OaYKb2p9DUz2Y35FQ_-dB5SBFisKHtvDPbDuhe4H60J6xzItm_Sp9LUaobQEkgNhh9zgNzNJ82KiOiruHGmtUJzXE2_ja8I9mzJK4IoNcJpqV13hHJhjgvdg0KEKWNMA/s2048/IMG_2571.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkXQ6GeAEWGx-OaYKb2p9DUz2Y35FQ_-dB5SBFisKHtvDPbDuhe4H60J6xzItm_Sp9LUaobQEkgNhh9zgNzNJ82KiOiruHGmtUJzXE2_ja8I9mzJK4IoNcJpqV13hHJhjgvdg0KEKWNMA/w235-h176/IMG_2571.JPG" width="235" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgASOmuTUjMTpWaMDHc87nZ2ihZ_uQV0LTED-EKDRjaX1oj_Kv8MIEexM9MHLlK4uuo2f2h6PzcdoTjenphSwXKrjoITGQDMXoPBOdnrF5vidCfT-qF7d5Zal4sTIk3eZTOJdqvkKh3r4/s2048/IMG_2635.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgASOmuTUjMTpWaMDHc87nZ2ihZ_uQV0LTED-EKDRjaX1oj_Kv8MIEexM9MHLlK4uuo2f2h6PzcdoTjenphSwXKrjoITGQDMXoPBOdnrF5vidCfT-qF7d5Zal4sTIk3eZTOJdqvkKh3r4/w234-h176/IMG_2635.JPG" width="234" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>L. Lake</b>. I grew up on Lake Michigan and my happy place is on any body of water. I love cruises, beaches bring me peace and calm, and I am fortunate enough to live 15 minutes from a large, clean lake that is perfect for paddleboarding. The hardest part about 2020 was cancelling our December cruise. I NEEEEEED to be on a beach or by a pool right now. Also why I am not a fan of winter. I already miss the lake and can't wait for paddleboarding days with my Sweat girls and some beers.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLYmu_CvQ4GC3Rd5Hh-leT6XiZ9wUsmrZb7LNEUBjlhlZnc40eAmRvI7wUA4ralUhFnCmYzwScPc4ajhx5GyJmFHs4vI452UBko-yNlfais0QAsjK8qvPUak5GbbJfeuCha7KLbJ0kno0/s1405/tempFileForShare_20201211-202527.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1405" data-original-width="1071" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLYmu_CvQ4GC3Rd5Hh-leT6XiZ9wUsmrZb7LNEUBjlhlZnc40eAmRvI7wUA4ralUhFnCmYzwScPc4ajhx5GyJmFHs4vI452UBko-yNlfais0QAsjK8qvPUak5GbbJfeuCha7KLbJ0kno0/w188-h247/tempFileForShare_20201211-202527.jpg" width="188" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxcqaBlaaky0QUkvE4aSNSoFR00aFXQ0T2kNpYnu1LpmFqdG08WMJ8m62r3A-G6J0z03RSPD490w5dQP75NcEh6B-q7RiL-WEAVnnvM8-NOPobdyQEHSilGp3cf7E-h7Wc9t4fVhpfUUo/s1080/tempFileForShare_20201211-210842.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxcqaBlaaky0QUkvE4aSNSoFR00aFXQ0T2kNpYnu1LpmFqdG08WMJ8m62r3A-G6J0z03RSPD490w5dQP75NcEh6B-q7RiL-WEAVnnvM8-NOPobdyQEHSilGp3cf7E-h7Wc9t4fVhpfUUo/w246-h246/tempFileForShare_20201211-210842.jpg" width="246" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <b>M. Motivated</b>. I've always been highly motivated to succeed in my life. I always loved school and tried to get the best grades. I went to college for 7 years instead of 4 so I could make more money in the long run. I worked hard to buy homes on my own for my child. Having a good, happy, comfortable life has always been my motivation. This has carried over to fitness to some extent. I'm not ALWAYS motivated on a day to day basis, and was very UNMOTIVATED in early 2020, but I always get it together eventually and remember the main goal - health and happiness. I can't be my best self and the best mom when I don't take care of me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">*****</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thank you for getting through the first half of the alphabet with me. You now know way more about me than you ever thought you wanted to know...and there's more to come! I love learning about people, especially the most random, weird facts. The weirder, the better. Tell me something interesting or super quirky about you!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-37687172925324279582020-10-04T15:29:00.002-05:002020-10-04T15:43:45.486-05:00How To Be A Runner<p>How to become a runner:</p>
Lace up. <br />
Run. <br />
<br />
That's it. Congratulations, you're a runner. <br />
<br />
But in all seriousness, it can be daunting for someone who has never done it. Scary even.<br />
<br />
I was that person in 2009. I was 185 lbs and decided I wanted to go from being 100% sedentary to training for a half marathon. And I really gave it my best shot for all of 2 months. But my lack of education on the topic of running, combined with being grossly out of shape, led to severe tendinitis in my right leg and sidelined me for another 2 years. Because after my leg and ankle healed 6 months later, I had decided I "wasn't good at" running.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to 2011. I promised my sister I would do a 5k in September 2011. I thought:<br />
<br />
1) 3.1 is way better than 13.1 so how hard could it be? <div><br />
And</div><div><br />
2) I have PLENTY of time to train. <br />
<br />
Except I didn't. I continued to sit on my couch and eat Chinese food and entire boxes of Swiss Cake Rolls.<br />
<br />
September rolled around, I was reminded of my promise, and I decided to just suck it up and do it, even if I walked the whole thing. <br />
<br />
So I did it. And it sucked. And, shockingly, I was addicted to racing at that point. I was 3 months out from my 30th birthday so I decided that I would stick with it and do a 5k every single month while I was 30, until the end of 2012. My goals were a) improve my time by ANY amount each race, and b) don't ever be last.<br />
<br />
That's when the learning curve began. Sure, I had survived that first 5k. But I wanted to do more than survive. I wanted to see my time improve and I wanted to do it injury free. I am the QUEEN of running injuries. I've had almost all of them at some point. <br />
<br />
Here's what I learned during the process of becoming a runner:<br />
<br />
1. Shoes are EVERYTHING. I wore too small shoes in the beginning, followed by shoes that were terrible for my feet. </div><div><br /></div><div>A. I always buy a size up. I wear 8.5 in regular shoes. I buy 9.5 for running.</div><div><br /></div><div>B. Running stores can be your best friend. They will help you find a shoe for your gait. I personally need stability shoes vs neutral shoes, which sucks because neutral shoes are way cuter.</div><div><br />C. More than one pair is ideal. They last longer. Aim for 300-400 miles max before you retire them.</div><div>
<br />
2. Don't over-train, especially in the beginning. Just because your Instagram runner friends can run 63 miles in a week, 5 times a week, etc, doesn't mean you have to. Start out with a couple miles a few days a week. Increase as your body tells you to. Just because an online training program you find starts you out at 3 miles doesn't mean that's right for you.<br />
<br />
3. Pain vs soreness. This one is tough for someone new to working out or running. I've had to gradually learn the difference over the years. You can be sore and not be "injured". But you can also be in pain and need to rest up to prevent something much worse. You have to learn your body. You also will learn what shin splints feel like and when you can run through shin soreness vs stop and ice.<br />
<br />
4. Cross training really helps. Building lean muscle and gaining strength helps with endurance. Don't have to do anything crazy, I didn't really "workout" other than running until 2017, but I did do some leg work like squats and lunges.<br />
<br />
5. Hydrate and fuel properly. It will be extremely difficult (and dangerous) to run on a 1000-1200 calorie diet. Food is fuel, so eat up. When I first started running, I did South Beach, which is basically zero carb. But I ate a lot to sustain myself. I was able to lose weight while not passing out while running from lack of food.<br />
<br />
6. You do not have to run your entire distance to be considered a runner. There are plenty of great programs out there (C25k, the Galloway method, etc) that encourage walk breaks in order to ease you into running. I STILL do a run/walk combo 9 years later. But I started out only running 30 seconds on, 30 seconds off. Now I do 2 miles straight through with more frequent walks after that. Progress, not perfection. <br />
<br />
7. YOUR PACE DOES NOT DEFINE YOU AS A RUNNER. Read that again and say it louder for the people in the back. My first 5k was 42:40. My PR is 32:52. Sure, I shaved off 10 minutes, but will I ever run one in 25 minutes? Likely not. And I'm ok with that. Some people are naturally fast runners. Others work hard to become faster through special training or coaching. Either way, YOU ARE A RUNNER. BE PROUD.<br />
<br />
*ALL ADVICE IS SIMPLY FROM MY EXPERIENCE OF BECOMING A RUNNER, NOT FROM A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL.*<br />
<br />
Felt like I needed to add that part in. 😂<br />
<br />
So in summary, if you've considered running and a 5k is something you've wanted to try, do it!! I promise you won't regret it. Do some research, ask questions, lace up, and get out there!<br />
<br />
Hopefully 2021 will bring lots of races to choose from. And when you cross the finish line, no matter if it takes you 20 minutes or 50 minutes, you will be so proud of yourself. And if you're just starting out and need some support or someone to be at your finish line, I will gladly fly to where you are and take that first memorable finish line picture for you. Just give me some notice. 😁</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRk4aRAFo_iLSDlNFxBfJtKnYCKrcRKVZFswHAVcKk9_nUrK5tk1ylXhHsrNtQhzOF1nrGJhFdTpl3S1fHQirVipXThLa7OfJ6rX62zpu5Of3bbgJJNE8yzcqrL67V7hbYUDP6n_VTlHQ/s480/newquotes-12-72-1544548551.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRk4aRAFo_iLSDlNFxBfJtKnYCKrcRKVZFswHAVcKk9_nUrK5tk1ylXhHsrNtQhzOF1nrGJhFdTpl3S1fHQirVipXThLa7OfJ6rX62zpu5Of3bbgJJNE8yzcqrL67V7hbYUDP6n_VTlHQ/s320/newquotes-12-72-1544548551.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-79821108575091573872020-09-06T22:19:00.008-05:002020-09-06T22:40:55.625-05:00Single AF<p> As you can see by the date of my <a href="https://skidmarksandpushupbras.blogspot.com/2018/02/the-process.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">last post</span></a>, I'm pretty terrible at being consistent with this blog like I was several years ago. </p><p>Last time I posted, I was less than a year into what ended up being a 2 year relationship. Great guy, but in the end, we wanted different things.</p>
So here I am 2.5 years after that post and almost 1.5 years after the end of that relationship, happily single but occasionally wondering if I should make an effort to open myself up to another attempt at dating.<br />
<br />
Since the end of that one, I've had a variety of first dates. Only one went beyond a first date. <br />
<br />
I watched a romantic comedy the other night where a guy sued a dating app for not finding him love after 1,000 dates. He had a "Friends"-type name for every date (The One With All The Cats, The One Who Brought Her Parents, etc), and I thought I'd give you a rundown of some of my dates, maybe make you laugh at my expense, maybe make you appreciate your significant others little more. Because it's a shitshow, folks.<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihHnwsNKYt7UegsMpdChNtFDliM82HXSn4EHkPH2zHMkKSYO9qJqxIa39Shzp1MtbJB2-zq4kL3SAp8aF40-JeV3ttjeAjIVBO-rxrR67mblW13MS8hRGJ5jv8b718YvV4re_vGDurQZY/s180/blog2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihHnwsNKYt7UegsMpdChNtFDliM82HXSn4EHkPH2zHMkKSYO9qJqxIa39Shzp1MtbJB2-zq4kL3SAp8aF40-JeV3ttjeAjIVBO-rxrR67mblW13MS8hRGJ5jv8b718YvV4re_vGDurQZY/s0/blog2.jpg" /></a></div><div><br />
<br />
1. The One Who Took My Chick-fil-A Points (aka The Bro, aka Dumbface) - This is the only one in the last year and a half to go beyond a first date. He wasn't bright, he was loud, he acted like a frat boy, and he would ask me to pay for our food at Chick-fil-A, but USE HIS APP TO GET THE POINTS. Lasted 6 weeks. Never referred to him as my boyfriend. I couldn't see myself with him long term. Intelligence is important to me. So is food. No nugs, no hugs.<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWm7N6x9RgZnPOxmxRf_RXtt8AeM1PQy3yIOHXr4VHwm6FzNJRjZoNkrojc29K011gjTSeFXtC8CedqPC1bZjaCnF6FNuFnu5Yuo_sudqVdEyRbPEk-Id1_2BuLkg92hHMLEkm4T1Ch4/s500/blog1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWm7N6x9RgZnPOxmxRf_RXtt8AeM1PQy3yIOHXr4VHwm6FzNJRjZoNkrojc29K011gjTSeFXtC8CedqPC1bZjaCnF6FNuFnu5Yuo_sudqVdEyRbPEk-Id1_2BuLkg92hHMLEkm4T1Ch4/s320/blog1.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>
2. The One With Daddy Issues - I liked this one. Super fun to chat with before we met. Good conversation before we met, lots of laughs. At dinner, he told me all about how his dad was a famous dude who left his mom and had other kids but didn't want him. Lots of personal details for a first date. Talked the whole time, barely got a word in. Then he walked me to my car, said "Thanks for coming out", and never called again. Thanks for the autobiography, I guess? </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk1V27wVWNAUdsLYjC5Y32VJG_XJlMfdC-ULduU_iy2kzV8r5cUZHKvD4M1xDfxHqOCEsv1-BizsEFVQq0z-KxDKQN96YzkNHnmnwz3hn1-EQXcKU5GusTrgvblhJWY5VIC99-Z7eT4yM/s240/blog6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk1V27wVWNAUdsLYjC5Y32VJG_XJlMfdC-ULduU_iy2kzV8r5cUZHKvD4M1xDfxHqOCEsv1-BizsEFVQq0z-KxDKQN96YzkNHnmnwz3hn1-EQXcKU5GusTrgvblhJWY5VIC99-Z7eT4yM/s0/blog6.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>
3. The One With One Foot Out The Door - Good convo with this one beforehand, too. Super funny guy, chatty, seemed fun. He arrived at the restaurant and I could see it on his face that he wasn't happy, like when your food arrives at the table and they forgot to leave the onions off. He looked as though he was expecting Angelina Jolie and got Shrek. And my pics are recent and look like me, soooo... not sure where his disappointed look came from. But he didn't make eye contact, barely spoke, then never called again. Wasted my skinny jeans and good hair on that one. But I got free Texas Roadhouse rolls and a Dallas Blonde, so there's that.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhycNBt4ZrmIirMEp38uOLhGudSz_NulWiBbfusYPyaS1_vu5TmZeLuxLr1XhV2Hudj2gibvNc_LE6ENVMksV9wftk0vVHbSlpEUFygMFOEcimmQD-88M3ervhCqFgBMAccA1jfwHZPJug/s1080/blog3.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhycNBt4ZrmIirMEp38uOLhGudSz_NulWiBbfusYPyaS1_vu5TmZeLuxLr1XhV2Hudj2gibvNc_LE6ENVMksV9wftk0vVHbSlpEUFygMFOEcimmQD-88M3ervhCqFgBMAccA1jfwHZPJug/s320/blog3.png" /></a></div><br /><div><br />
<br />
4. The Delayed Ghoster - I had a great first date with this one. It lasted like 5 hours. He wanted to keep hanging out, so we did. Walked around, grabbed drinks and food at 3 different places, talked for hours. Heard from him the next day (that was a relief and a new feeling), and made plans for a 2nd date. Day before 2nd date, nothing. Ghosted. Just disappeared. Changed his mind and bolted. My guess is he met someone else that he clicked with better. I've been there. Still unexpected. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgABsGlNi80nq1G_nSUeZ_PnwwgxqEGktZgDJkk5wiEnTxiNjKdF2WqupinbamOKv9fihzgxKhkq5vHRChpyptZAW94NT1FoBxHHNVqRQGZ4b7ZtGgxsRHO4dJNJjc7g9Q_r1XI2KcG8hs/s340/baby-running-away-gif-5.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="270" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgABsGlNi80nq1G_nSUeZ_PnwwgxqEGktZgDJkk5wiEnTxiNjKdF2WqupinbamOKv9fihzgxKhkq5vHRChpyptZAW94NT1FoBxHHNVqRQGZ4b7ZtGgxsRHO4dJNJjc7g9Q_r1XI2KcG8hs/s320/baby-running-away-gif-5.gif" /></a></div><br /><div><br />
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5. The One Who Had Diarrhea of the Mouth - This guy had no filter and it was bad. He admitted that he had zero experience with women and it showed. He said some really dirty things to me before we met. I told him I didn't want to go out with him anymore. He sincerely apologized, so I gave it another shot. Had a great date and I was glad I had gone after all. Then 2 days later, he took his grumpiness out on me by snapping at me and being rude and sarcastic with me while trying to plan our 2nd date. Buddy, it's too soon to show your ass. Show your crazy a few months in like the rest of us.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuNFYkWiokZ5IuY97dhA-pqN7ZbumDVsdImhtMaxqMmw277mMB_PXYKe-OICjMedtX5smVXj46l1w6xciTkFC6ji1jKpNujCFUGP4DajTdMkP5xKxMy7EqlyEMIfYKD8WP07LwfFA9xCc/s1600/blog7.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuNFYkWiokZ5IuY97dhA-pqN7ZbumDVsdImhtMaxqMmw277mMB_PXYKe-OICjMedtX5smVXj46l1w6xciTkFC6ji1jKpNujCFUGP4DajTdMkP5xKxMy7EqlyEMIfYKD8WP07LwfFA9xCc/s320/blog7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br />
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That was the last one in early July, although it feels like it was 6 months ago because 2020 is never-ending. Dating apps have been paused since. Been interested in someone since, but just seems too complicated. And I don't have the energy or brain power for complicated right now.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>If this post has made you feel better about your love life, my work is complete. If you need an extra push, here's a <a href="https://skidmarksandpushupbras.blogspot.com/2013/03/guide-to-happy-dating.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">post from 2013</span></a>. Hopefully I'm not writing another in 7 years. Time will tell!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA9QUkcUikkvDo0NZvDf2T5aErjt1qCthKctvXAPA4JHHT9aJP47aNdfCSueqwXBgELH_6J7TOnYV7ISPGpYEGhIo7numzkqSKKTCpKZZtHqQzUnS30tQ3xzZ8Ikge7pTGFnOFGxJ2Vi8/s180/blog8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA9QUkcUikkvDo0NZvDf2T5aErjt1qCthKctvXAPA4JHHT9aJP47aNdfCSueqwXBgELH_6J7TOnYV7ISPGpYEGhIo7numzkqSKKTCpKZZtHqQzUnS30tQ3xzZ8Ikge7pTGFnOFGxJ2Vi8/s0/blog8.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-27758456318693354942018-02-24T20:20:00.003-06:002018-02-24T20:20:38.896-06:00The ProcessOver the years, marriage has occasionally crossed my mind. With each passing birthday, I've wondered if it would be the year that I found someone to spend my life with. Like a ticking clock. But my thoughts and feelings on the subject have changed over the years. At 30, I sat in my front room and drank wine straight from the bottle and thought for sure I was going to be the lonely old cat lady for the rest of my life. At 32, I still wanted to eventually get married, but I wasn't in a huge hurry because at that point, I had already decided that Isaac was the only child I was going to birth. He would've been 8 by the time I had another one at that point and that seemed like too much of an age difference to me. The biological clock was no longer ticking for me. I was perfectly happy with just one of my own and hopefully some future stepchildren. I remember that 34 was the year that I cared a little bit more and was really bothered by the fact that 1) every last sibling and cousin and extended cousin of mine were either married, engaged, or in a long-term relationship well on their way to marriage, and 2) that my parents may not be there if I ever DID get married. Both of my sisters had had my grandparents and parents at their weddings. As of age 30, I no longer had any living grandparents and at this rate, my parents may be 95 or dead before I walked down the aisle. This is an actual glimpse into the future:<br />
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But since turning 36, my mindset has completely shifted. I've actually done a lot of self-reflection on the topic over the last couple months. Not really sure what exactly brought it on. Maybe the fact that I am officially on the downhill slide to 40. Maybe because I am in a genuinely happy relationship again for the first time in a long time and honestly didn't know if I ever would be again. And then one day several weeks ago, my coworker got engaged. And it just kind of hit me... I could potentially never get married. Not because I don't want to, but because it suddenly seemed like this super foreign concept to me. When she announced it, I felt so far removed from the topic that I didn't even really know how to respond. I obviously managed to respond in the most socially acceptable way possible, which, of course, was excitement and congratulatory words of support. And I was genuinely happy for her. She had patiently waited long enough for that damn ring. But the whole situation got the hamster wheel turning, and as a result of being the over-thinker that I am and have always been, this blog post was born.</div>
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How do people even get to the point of marriage? I'm not talking about Vegas elopements with someone you met last night. Or marriages that come out of feelings of obligation (arranged marriages, pressure due to an unplanned pregnancy, when an ultimatum has to be given because she's waited 7 years for a ring and her uterus isn't getting any younger so come on already WTF, etc.) But the ones where you actually go through the long process of dating and mutually falling in love and realizing you want to spend your life and money and space and snacks with them, like FOREVER. I have obviously seen marriage all around me my entire life. My parents have been married for 40 years. I have friends who have been married 5, 10, 20 years. Sometimes several times. So I know it can happen. So my confusion isn't with the end game of marriage. I'm not anti-marriage by any means. I completely appreciate the marriage part. And I definitely understand the meeting aspect. I've been on more first dates than I care to admit and many have stopped there. What baffles me is the in-between. Point A to Point B. And everyone's A-B is different. Some people get married after a few months like my parents did and stay married forever. Others can date for 7 years before marriage and end up getting divorced. I guess it's all personal preference with varying outcomes. For me (and this has all changed drastically over the years), I need at least a couple years to figure out if I even want to share my food and bank account with you. How do I know you aren't crazy or jealous or pick your nose in the car or eat the last Oreo without even asking me if I want it?! It takes time to learn those important details and quirks about a person. As Aziz Ansari once said, "I see people my age getting married to people they've known for like a year and a half. A year and a half? Is that enough time to get to know someone to know you want to spend the REST of your life with them? I've had sweaters for a year and a half and I was like, 'What the f*ck was I doing with this sweater?'"<br />
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Despite the length of your A-B process, it's hard enough to get through the BEGINNING phase of dating. I have heard people say that "dating is so fun!" And I'm like....<br />
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People that are married or in long-term relationships say they miss the initial dating phase. But are they remembering those first few months? The questions and the wondering and the overthinking. Because I know I'm not the only one with these experiences. There are memes out there that support the fact that I'm not the only one who struggles with those early dating worries. Like this one:</div>
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The person who made this is my soulmate. It was probably a woman, she probably has a little bit of anxiety, and it sounds like she has had some dating experiences similar to mine based solely on this picture. And she's totes been ghosted several times. If you don't know what that means, you come from a dating era I like to call "privileged dating". Good for you. </div>
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Someone also once told me that specifically online dating is fun. Are you freaking kidding me? Then I later found out that she just swiped for her friend on the dating app, she didn't actually have to do the swiping for her own dating life. Well yeah, it's awesome fun when YOU aren't trying to find an undamaged needle in a haystack full of horse crap and garbage that's on fire. Because to me, that's the most brutal time in a relationship. Internally, of course. You aren't having blowout fights in those first few months (at least I hope not because if so, RUN. Trust me. Been there. Didn't run. Another life lesson learned by Becca. So many life lessons...) </div>
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The beginning stage of dating for me is like eating dairy. It sounds like a great idea and you're craving it and you desperately want that Blue Bell Cookie Two Step and some mac-n-cheese because in theory, it's awesome and makes your heart happy. Can't get enough of it. But it's not without risk, and for me, early dating and dairy give me similar gastrointestinal discomfort. Sure, it's great to go to dinner and cuddle and not fight and not have them fart under the blankets in the beginning. But everything else about the beginning these days is so stressful. If I could skip from date one to the moment you both admit your love for one another, that would save me so much time and stress. But I'd also have way less life lessons to blog about. </div>
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Another thing that baffles me is, how do some people and personality types find someone to marry and others don't? Almost weekly, I meet someone who is married and I try to picture their married life and how they got to their Point B. Weird, I know. I'm a freak. But it intrigues me because some of these people are so...whatever they happen to be...annoying, loud, confident, funny, negative, bipolar...that I can't help but wonder about their spouse. What made them say, "Yep, this is the one I want to spend every single day with." I know everyone has their own cup of tea and what is my cup of tea may not be someone else's cup of tea. But then there are others I come across who are NOT married and I wonder why. What's their story? Where is their person? Why is this smart, funny person single while this crazy ass narcissist over here is attached? Right?!</div>
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So then I wonder, is it something I want because that's what's "supposed to happen", the course of things because society says so? Because it seems that most of my engagements and "close calls" have been because it was just the "next step", not because they couldn't imagine life without me and vice versa. Here's a timeline of my significant failed relationships:</div>
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* My high school sweetheart was my first fiancé, but we were practically kids. We just thought that loving each other since 6th grade meant that we were meant to be forever. It was the next step. Sure, those stories happen sometimes, but it's extremely rare. Rarer than me turning down a cupcake rare. I pretty much spent my entire childhood thinking that life was set up for you on a schedule - married at 20, done having 3-4 kids before 30, grandparents at 50, live happily ever after and die at 80. Not even sure where or when this timeline developed in my head, but I truly believed it to be true until reality slapped me in the face in my early 20's. But I had been on that path with him and he was the obvious next step. But he wasn't and I wasn't and we weren't. And we're both thankful to this day that we didn't take that plunge.</div>
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* Next up is the guy who was probably the most likely candidate, the one I had a child with who never wanted to get married but then married the next girl a month after I left. Makes me chuckle now as I type this, but it was a sucker-punch to the gut 10 years ago. We were never engaged, but it was a 5-year relationship, my longest. So I had gone through this long process with him that was essentially supposed to lead to marriage, right? - fell in love, had a baby, stayed together for most of our 20's - but nothing. Through 5 years, we never completed the process. We fell in love in the first 3 months, hit our high at 6 months, then never really moved beyond that.</div>
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* Then there was the guy I dated for 4 months before we got engaged (fiancé #2). We were still in that happy, can't-get-enough-of-each-other phase and thought getting married early on would be an awesome idea. It can happen but man, that would've been disastrous. He's one big reason why my A-B got extended significantly.</div>
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* Then lastly, there was the guy I genuinely thought I'd marry, but I actually dodged the biggest, most narcissistic bullet in the universe. </div>
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So basically, I've thought on a few occasions that I was with the one I would marry. Been engaged twice, long-term a couple other times. And as I outlined above, I am thankful that those relationships didn't work out for various reasons. They weren't the right ones. Things have a way of working out for the best. Had to throw that cliché quote in there because it's true. But what was different about my A-B compared to other people's A-B's? THAT is the million dollar question. One that likely doesn't have a concrete answer. </div>
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But all of that being said, I am actually incredibly happy with my life and relationship. I can honestly say I'm the happiest almost 8 months in that I've ever been at this stage. He's all kinds of great and I feel lucky to have found this needle in that haystack. We aren't even remotely close to any engagement or marriage talk. Nope. But will it get to that point? History says no. But what's that other cliché quote? Trust the process? Yeah, that. That's what I'm trying to do. Although trust isn't my strongest quality.</div>
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There is a meme that says something along the lines of "I'll get married when a man makes me as happy as queso". And as funny as that may be (and actually kinda true), I'll get married when I feel like I'm just as special and beautiful to them and adored by them as they are to me and by me BEYOND the honeymoon phase of dating. And that takes time. Mutuality is key. Because why wake up at 50 and either look over at the empty space in your bed because you ended up in divorce or look over at your snoring spouse that you resent because you feel like you care more and do more than (s)he does? I've seen that happen so often, so the silver lining of being my 36 year old unmarried self is that I've actually had a lot of extra time to learn from other people's marriage woes. Sorry guys, but thanks I guess?</div>
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But I do think the world is changing and with that comes major changes in the way we handle relationships. The dating world has changed drastically since my grandparents met organically, fell in love, and got married. Heck, even since my sisters got married. Online dating is the #1 way to meet people and despite the cheesy commercials that make you want to vomit in your mouth while you sit at home eating ice cream in your underwear on a Friday night, it's not all fun and games. So if you are currently single and looking, or in the early awkward phase of dating, or going through a divorce or yet another dating breakup in your 30's or 40's, just know that you aren't alone. And you're not "too old" to start over or get married. And you're not "damaged". I mean, you could be but everyone is in some way. And even though your 6 year old self watched Mannequin in 1987 and developed unrealistic expectations of love and marriage and timelines and A-B processes, there's still time. Marriage is not required in order to be "normal" or happy. You create your own happiness with who you choose to have in your circle and who you choose to love.</div>
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Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-85084146524573845722017-01-02T20:39:00.001-06:002017-01-02T20:57:22.664-06:00Congratulations, it's a burger!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Anyone who has known me longer than 5 minutes knows that I have been a gassy individual since birth. I've never been particularly shy about my ability to burp louder than most men or clear a room. Sure, I keep these things under wraps with various people, such as new boyfriends, friends who aren't as disgusting as I am, my boss (most days)... But being a walking fart bubble is just who I am. Sorry not sorry. I've always teased people like my mom and middle sister that if they didn't start letting out their gas, they were going to explode one day. <br />
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In the last year, what started in 1981 as just a normal part of my day, turned into a complete nuisance when it started affecting my ability to enjoy my food. Nothing gets in the way of my food. And it wasn't so much the flatulence and belching that bothered me. I was actually still quite amused by that. It was the other symptoms that made me realize that something was wrong with me.<br />
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It started with my body's hatred for sodium almost 2 years ago. If I ate a few salty meals in too short of a time span, my feet swelled up like my sister's when she was 8 months pregnant with twins. Then came the acid reflux that only occurred at night. If I even so much as looked at a piece of food or glass of alcohol within 3 hours before bed, I woke up a few hours later drenched in sweat, knives in my stomach, burning chest, and for several days after the incident, I would have the feeling of a lump in my throat (we Speech Pathologists call this "globus"). This was an easy fix...don't eat before bed. But then the queasiness kicked in. Anytime I ate, I felt slightly nauseous. I was eating Alka Seltzer acid/gas chews like candy, going through a bottle every week or two. I took Nexium but I wasn't consistent with it and it's one of those medications that you have to take every single day for it to be effective. I was entirely too cheap for that so I mainly took it if I knew I was going to be going out for a beer or unhealthy meal.<br />
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The worst symptom, the one that bothered me the most, was the bloating. After a meal of any size, I looked as though I was 6 months pregnant or had been holding in a fart for a decade. At one point, I took a "before" picture after a meal at my sister's house. My stomach was sticking out, literally hanging over my pants. The next morning, a mere 10 hours later, I took an "after" picture of a perfectly flat, semi-toned stomach (this was over the summer when I actually had stomach muscles, before a Caribbean vacation and holiday indulgence made them disappear.) I talked to my college roommate about this because she had had similar symptoms and found out she was allergic/intolerant of a bunch of stuff. That would explain a lot so I decided to look into this as a possible cause.<br />
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I showed my doctor these pictures side by side and her diagnosis was simple and what I had already suspected: I was allergic or intolerant of one or more things. I could either get allergy testing and/or get a GI consult. The allergy testing would've settled the allergy/intolerance question right away, but my insurance sucks and I didn't want to pay for both. So I opted for the GI consult since the globus (feeling of a lump) was still present and I had this paranoid feeling that I had throat cancer or something. Wrong choice. She told me what I already knew (globus...duh, I can feel it) and recommended an endoscopy before she would diagnose me with any stomach or esophageal ailments. But like I said, terrible insurance with high deductibles. Seeing as how I'm in the process of saving money for a major life event, dropping a couple grand on an exploratory procedure wasn't an option. I asked her to do the food allergy testing but she said I'd need to go to the allergist for that. Should've gone there first... Her "in the meantime" solution was to troubleshoot and figure it out on my own: take 2 Nexium every single day (approximately $40/month versus $2000 surgery, drink a glass of prune juice with Benefiber 3 times per day, and cut out gluten/dairy/wheat/grain/sugar, so basically almost everything in life that makes me happy. Once the bloating and reflux improved, I could add things back in to test for reactions. At this point, I had gained 10 lbs since August. I knew there was no way I had consumed an extra 35,000 calories in 4 months, so I knew it had to be the bloating and I was willing to try just about anything to feel right again. Not because I felt like I needed to lose weight, but because I felt like I wasn't healthy.<br />
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Well, from the get-go, the Benefiber/prune juice cocktail wasn't going to happen 3 times per day. I had to work, I drive over 2 hours a day, I workout... I wasn't about to lose control of my intestines on the treadmill or in my car. And there are only certain levels of smells I can get away with blaming on the dirty linen cart - or the residents - at work. So I tried it twice a day for 2 days...and nothing. Except a belly that looked 6 months pregnant and a fart bubble the size of a melon that refused to pop. After googling this strange reaction to a concoction that should've cleared my body of everything I'd eaten in the last year, I discovered that some people can't tolerate a lot of fiber at once. It recommended that instead of a fiber supplement, I simply increase my fiber in my food choices by 1/2 cup. Done.<br />
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Thanks to Pinterest, I learned that this "elimination" diet that the GI doctor suggested was basically Paleo, which made it a lot easier to plan my meals. I could have meat, vegetables (except potatoes, but sweet potatoes are allowed, THANK GOD!), fruit, eggs, nuts (but not peanuts because they're legumes), almond milk, coconut milk...yep, that's about it. No bread, milk, cheese, cereal, pasta, BEER!, WINE!, cookies, etc. Sounds awful, right? And the first couple days were. Breakfast options are limited to protein shakes or eggs and bacon. I'm not a huge egg fan nor do I have time in the morning to make bacon. So the first health shake of the week tasted like death. I've perfected it since then but the first day was bad. I. Was. Starving. Even though I ate all day long (ask my coworkers - "Man, you always have food in your mouth!"), my body was craving my oatmeal bar and the leftover Halloween candy in a giant bowl above my desk. But I quickly got into the Paleo groove and I learned to crave fruit and pistachios and sweet potatoes and roasted broccoli. It took a few days but I got the hang of it.<br />
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I had my first cheat meal on day 4. I decided to test out the wheat/gluten allergy by having a couple beers on a really bad date. And to emphasize how bad, you should know that my cheat meal also consisted of a Whataburger cheeseburger that I picked up on my way home from said date because...He. Didn't. Order. Food. Who doesn't order food at a restaurant on a date? Not my future husband, that's for sure. Lame sauce. Pass! So anyway, the beer and cheeseburger. No reaction at all. No significant bloating or acid reflux that night. The cheese was minimal, not enough to really test for a dairy allergy, but it was freaking delicious. Even though I passed the beer/wheat/gluten test, I wasn't ready to add those things back in completely. I wanted to do this elimination diet through December 16, my 35th birthday, before I took a break for the holidays. A good 3 weeks felt like enough time to figure things out. So I forged on.<br />
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My next semi-cheat meal was on day 6. I made a spaghetti squash marinara bake and added some mozzarella. Within 20 minutes of eating, I was bloated and crazy gassy. So was it the cheese or marinara? My gut (literally...ha!) says it was the cheese. I had a dairy intolerance as a kid that I outgrew so maybe it came back? But like the beer, I wasn't ready to say for certain after one trial that I did or didn't have an intolerance/allergy. By the 10th day, I had already lost 8 lbs and 4 inches off my stomach. 8 lbs in a week and a half is insane but I know I did it in a completely healthy way and simply cut out foods that were holding onto my insides, not to mention the excess water that my cankles were holding hostage thanks to sodium. These 10 days also included 5 workouts, so that helped the process. Like I said before, my goal wasn't weight loss, but monitoring my weight helps me to be more aware of food intolerances. Watching my weight was what made me aware that I had a problem with salt. I can gain 5 lbs in a weekend from sodium alone. After a cheat WEEKEND where I had 3 major cheat meals and beer, I gained 6 of the 8 lbs back. I lost all 6 within a few days but still, it shows how much my 35 year old body doesn't like the good stuff anymore. In those first 3 weeks that I followed that diet, I really only 100% figured out that lettuce isn't my friend. I highly suspect that dairy and wheat are also a problem, but those symptoms have been inconsistent. <br />
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So in summary, Paleo is definitely the way to go if you a) want to lose weight quickly in a healthy way, b) want to get rid of bloating, or c) have food intolerances that you can't quite figure out. I still plan on getting food allergy testing done and resuming this diet now that the holidays are over. After a few weeks of Christmas cookies, potlucks, and dinners out, I feel like crap and look like I'm with child again. I also still plan to get that endoscopy done since the globus never completely went away, even with the diet changes and Nexium. Both things will have to wait a few more months, but it's a relief to know that I found a fairly simple way to control my symptoms for the time being. <br />
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Here is a site that gives a food list if you're interested. Or just search it on Pinterest and you'll find a ton of ideas. Here's to a healthy, happy, less gassy 2017. <br />
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<a href="http://crossfitsobro.com/crossfit-sobros-2016-paleo-challenge/" target="_blank">Paleo Diet</a><br />
<br />Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-44935781247100118082016-05-17T21:01:00.000-05:002016-05-17T21:07:59.188-05:00Closure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>I read something the other day that said that, on average, it takes 3 months for every year of your previous relationship to heal and move on. If that's the case, I have a good 5 months to go before I am remotely date-worthy and no longer damaged. But I'm coming up on the 4-month mark and I'm actually pretty proud of the progress I have made in terms of healing and coming to terms with what happened. Sharing my thoughts and feelings on my blog has helped tremendously, as have my friends, family, new job, great co-workers, and plenty of self-reflection. I still have random hard times and those usually happen around the time of a "first". First trip to a favorite restaurant without that person, first anniversary without them, approaching first summer without them. You miss the good times that come with those firsts, but the key is knowing the difference between missing the good times and missing that person. During times like these, I make myself sit down and reflect on the relationship and list the cons of still having those times with that person. Not because I only want to focus on the negative, but because thinking about the pros of the relationship isn't going to help a person heal and certainly isn't going to help them to not repeat the same mistakes in a future relationship. I'd much rather keep it real and remind myself of the absolutely crap behavior on the majority of a 5-day cruise than to dwell on the ONE afternoon of happiness. (Speaking of crap behavior, I'll get to "red flags" and "things not to tolerate" in my next blog post so stay tuned! I've added to the list since my blog post from 2013 - <a href="https://skidmarksandpushupbras.blogspot.com/2013/03/guide-to-happy-dating.html" target="_blank">Guide to Happy Dating</a>. If that one was remotely helpful for you, my next one might help, too. Just doing my part...Experiencing bad relationships so you don't have to. Consider it a Public Service Announcement. :-) )</b><br />
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<b>I've also had to reflect on the meaning of that dreaded breakup word: Closure. I've always needed "closure" after a relationship ends. It means different things to different people. For me, it always meant ending on good terms. Admitting that the relationship ending was a "good" thing and mutually walking away in opposite directions with warm, fuzzy feelings of no regret or sadness. Very rarely has this ever actually happened, and it's only ever occurred after the end of a minor relationship that didn't progress. As I've grown these last few months, "closure" has become synonymous with healing and moving forward. It's no longer an ending that is nicely gift-wrapped and set on your doorstep. I was never going to have that. I wanted that, I aimed for it. But reality sets in and you come to terms with the fact that the other person doesn't want that ending and isn't going to give it to you. Some people, typically the person who caused the most damage in the relationship, don't want a nicely wrapped ending. They want anger and hostility so they feel better about it ending. So you're forced to rip the Band-aid off and form your own ending. I had to rip the Band-aid off with Isaac's dad, too, and while it took a little bit of skin off, we both survived. Ripping the most recent Band-aid off was the best decision I could've made for myself. It still stings but in 6 months, I'll be really glad I took that step. It needed to happen. </b><br />
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<b>One habit I have formed over the last couple months as a form of "me-time" is watching 80's and 90's romance movies. This has been good and bad for the healing process. On a happy note, it has brought me back to my childhood and reminded me of all of those warm, fuzzy feelings I felt as a little girl or teenager as I watched couples fall in love and live happily ever after. It made me realize I still believe in love and would love to have it again someday. But the downside to these movies is that they give you unrealistic expectations of relationships from a young age. You can't compare everyday relationships with these romantic comedies because you will be highly disappointed. The only romantic comedy my life even remotely emulates is Mannequin, and only because I've dated a lot of dummies (ok, complete dumbasses). Maybe a little bit of When Harry Met Sally, but without the same ending. Pretty In Pink, but does it count if I'm Ducky in that scenario? Luckily, at 34 and with another failed relationship under my belt, I can watch my favorite movies with a little more maturity and realistic expectations. Maybe a spoonful of bitterness for good measure. </b><br />
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<b>Aside from drowning myself in romantic comedies and wine/cheese nights, I've started focusing on my health a little more, physically and mentally. I'll go ahead and put it on here that I'm planning to do another 10k in September. When I publicly announce that I'm going to do something, the chances of me backing out are pretty slim. :-) So there it is. It gives me something to strive for and focus on. I recruited one of Isaac's baseball moms to run it with me so I can share my misery. Research has already been done on last year's race and it has been determined that HUNDREDS of people are way slower than I am, as shocking as that was to see. So I'm feeling confident and excited for it. One step at a time. </b>Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-49420724107736406282016-03-26T21:43:00.002-05:002016-04-07T22:45:36.821-05:00Acceptance - Phase 1<b>Another month has passed (2 months yesterday) and another milestone has been reached, one that I never expected to happen in the next 6 months. It hasn't been pretty; there have been good days and bad, days when I thought I was DONE followed by days when I felt just as bad as I did on Day 1, days when I was happy and content followed by days when I let my feelings get the best of me and I took 10 steps backwards in my healing process. But I can confidently say that I have officially transitioned into the next stage of grief, the stage that psychology books tell you is the final phase: Acceptance. But I somewhat disagree. During my many hours of reflection while driving around DFW, I have decided that the Acceptance stage can be split into 2 phases. Acceptance Phase 1 is the actual acceptance of the loss/situation. Coming to terms with the loss, realizing it's never coming back, letting go of what it once was. But Phase 2 takes it a step further. Phase 2 is healing, and that can take months or years. </b><br />
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<b>Making it to the Acceptance stage at all is a major step for me. For so many weeks, I just struggled to wrap my mind around the loss itself. I knew it was over, but the whole unraveling was so bizarre and unexpected that I just couldn't accept that he was no longer a part of my life, that all of the things we had done together would now be done solo or with others. I remember the moment I reached Phase 1 of Acceptance. It was about a week ago when I suddenly realized that I really WAS done. I had lost the desire to reconcile, I was no longer "in love" with this person. Sure, I loved him, I cared, I wanted him to be happy and ok. But that's where my feelings stopped. I had finally accepted that this part of my life was over and I was ok with it. I was moving forward. </b><br />
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<b>I realized that the Acceptance stage is a 2-parter when I began to reflect on other moments of grief and loss in my life. One particular circumstance involved the death of a close friend 8 years ago. That loss had a profound impact on my life. HE had had a profound impact on my life, so losing him was excruciating. It was the first major loss I had experienced in my adult life. It was also the most devastating loss of my 10 year career thus far. Kevin was my first patient ever and I spent countless hours with him; trying to save him even though he couldn't be saved; being his friend; bringing him his favorite meal of steak and potatoes from Texas Roadhouse after work hours and personally feeding him because I didn't trust anyone else to do it right; bringing Isaac to see him after work and on weekends because he loved babies; playing Bingo with him almost every afternoon and winning almost every time with our lucky number 15 since he and Isaac shared a birthday. When we lost him, it left a huge hole in my heart and intense feelings of sadness and guilt. Guilt over not being able to save him from a completely unfair disease that I never could've saved him from anyway, guilt over his medical care at the end - again, out of my control. </b><br />
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<b>For years after his death - YEARS, 6 to be exact - I never made it to Phase 2. I had accepted that he was gone and had moved on in my career - who am I kidding, I had run from my career as a way of healing, left my comfort zone in long-term care to avoid another Kevin. I thought I had completed the grief process but I hadn't. I saw this quote on Pinterest, which reminded me of Kevin and ultimately made me realize that Acceptance has 2 phases.</b><br />
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<b>You can accept something is gone, but until you can move past the sadness, you haven't reached the final phase of the final stage of grief. Crying doesn't necessarily mean you're stuck in the Depression stage, but it is definitely an indicator that you haven't healed. I COULD NOT talk about Kevin for years. I couldn't listen to a certain song that reminded me of him. The memory of him saddened me. These days I can think of him fondly and with happy memories. I can think about him throwing his head back and laughing, long talks about our favorite Nascar driver, feeding him breakfast every day, the sight of him holding my infant on his lap with a big grin on his face... When you have honestly healed, you are better able to look back on experiences clearly and with good memories. Sadness taints happy memories. Losing someone to death is obviously much worse than the end of a relationship, so I'm definitely not trying to compare my heartbreak over one to another. But thinking about Kevin this last week has helped me to gain perspective on the grief process. And that's how I know that I haven't yet reached Phase 2 in my current grief. I have accepted, I have not healed. I still carry sadness that taints my happy memories. Someday I hope to look back on my 3-year relationship and remember the moments that brought me joy, because there were a lot of them. I hope that Isaac can also one day look back on that part of his life and remember the 5/6 of the relationship that included camping trips and the building a winning Pinewood Derby car and skipping rocks at Texoma, instead of just remembering the 1/6 of unhappiness. </b></div>
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<b>I'm getting there. Closer and closer every day. Thinking of Kevin these last few weeks has brought me unexpected comfort and clarity. Not only did it make me realize that I wasn't quite done healing, and that's ok, but it also helped me to focus on something more important. If I could get through the death of a beloved friend and come out on the other side a stronger and happier person, I could get through this. </b></div>
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<b>The song that I had a hard time listening to after he died was a song by Carrie Underwood called So Small. It reminded me of him because while he was dying, I was in the process of leaving Isaac's dad and breaking apart my family. I was dealing with something that, while sad and devastating, was nothing compared to what he was dealing with. For 6 years, this song broke my heart because of the sadness and guilt I felt. But tonight as I reflected on my old friend, I listened to it again and fully appreciated the meaning behind it. Something might feel huge at the moment, unbearable even. But there are much bigger things in life than this one situation. My situation doesn't define me, it doesn't define my future. I'll get to Phase 2 when I get there, but in the meantime, I am focusing on all of the other things that make my life great.</b></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>"It's so easy to get lost inside a problem that seems so big at the time. It's like a river that's so wide, it swallows you whole. While you're sitting around thinking about what you can't change and worrying about all the wrong things, time's flying by, moving so fast. You better make it count because you can't get it back. Sometimes that mountain you've been climbing is just grain of sand." - Carrie Underwood</b></span></div>
Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-46715167111107642292016-03-01T18:09:00.000-06:002016-03-01T18:09:33.749-06:00My First Airbrush Experience<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Since making the decision to pull myself out of the sad
slump I was in and focus on happiness and healing, life has gradually improved
and I feel better than I have in months. I've been focused on upcoming events,
time with friends and family, and just trying to find my happy place. I've always been a generally happy person
(with the exception of a grumpy phase for most of 2009) and easy to please.
Little things make me happy: coffee, dark chocolate, stinky cheese, warm
weather, wearing flip flops, the smell of freshly cut grass, the smell of a
freshly run-over skunk on a warm spring day...
I've been lucky enough to have worn my sandals twice so far this year,
thanks to an unseasonably warm Texas winter and a few February days that were
over 70*. Coffee happens every day and
I'm currently eating stinky Gouda as I type this. No skunks yet. 😕</b></span></div>
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<b style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">About a week ago , I walked past the mirror on the way to
the bathroom and thought, "Ugh..."
Pale, dark circles from lack of sleep, lack of muscle tone thanks to my
2-month cold and allergies preventing a decent workout and run. So I started thinking of all of those little
things that I do for myself that make me happier. I'm not the girliest of girls
but some of the things that make me happy as I get older are: good makeup,
having a tan, having painted nails, and just feeling pretty in general. Wow that sounded girly! Yikes.
Barely a day has gone by over the last 3 years that I didn't have makeup
on. I've never been a fan of my makeup-less face. A little bit of color goes a long way with me
and boosts my self-confidence. But over the past month, I barely combed my hair
before heading to work. I just didn't care.
But when I walked past the mirror and felt disgusted with myself, I knew
that not caring wasn't doing me any favors where my happiness and self-confidence
were concerned. My self-esteem had taken a beating over the last several months
and I wasn't doing anything to make myself feel better about ME. As I looked at my pale reflection, I knew what I needed to do. I needed a tan. Badly.</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Since it's obviously too cold to get a real tan and I try to
avoid tanning booths unless I need a little color before going on a tropical
vacation, my next best option was an airbrush tan. My sister gets these every
once in a while and recommended that I try one out. I had bought a Groupon over
a year ago and never used it, but I could use the expired one for $21 off at
least. So I booked my appointment.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>I knew what to expect, thanks to my sister's warnings, but I
wasn't completely prepared for the actual experience. When I arrived, the girl who would be spraying
me down went over all of the recommendations (light-medium for my pale self)
and "rules" for after the tan (no shower for 6-8 hours, loose
clothing, etc). She walked me back to
the spray room and instructed me to undress as much as I wanted based on my
comfort level. I already knew that my
underwear was staying on. Not only was I
not going to stand completely bare-assed in front of this girl, but I also like
some tan lines. A bra wasn't an option
since I forgot to wear a black one and the dye would destroy my white one. So I'd have to get past the embarrassment of
flashing my boobs to a stranger for 10 minutes. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>She walked out so I could undress (you're going to see me naked anyway,
might as well stay!) and I stripped down to my undies. The giant mirror in front of me assaulted my
eyes. Not only was I white and soft, but the fluorescent lighting added 20
lbs. Was I going to look this gross in
front of her or was I just fatter in the mirror? Would she even care? And why did I care? I'm not trying to date her. I gave my pasty self one last look and called
her in.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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cold", nothing can really prepare you for the ice cold dye hitting your
nipples for the first time. I HATE being
cold and this felt as miserable as a swim in Lake Michigan in June, except
there was no gradual introduction of your boobs into the ice bath. She just blasted me and giggled a little when
I shrieked. I clenched my teeth and
tried not to grimace in case the spray tan somehow missed the lines in my
face. When she was done, she put powder
in places where I might sweat and looked slightly confused when I told her to
put extra in my belly button. Maybe she lacks stomach rolls when she sits down, I don't know.
She also warned me that I would look dark before my shower, "so
don't panic". I dressed in my
all-black, loose clothing and left, thankful to be warm and no longer
exposed. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>With the exception of the full-body stickiness and the
stench of the spray tan (similar to how you smell after a tanning booth), I
felt better already. I felt happy and a
little more confident. So confident that I took a makeup-free picture and
didn't hate it. That never happens. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>I drove home and started my 6-8 hours of desperately wanting
a shower. It's one of the hardest parts
about the spray tan. You're sticky,
sweaty, and stink like crazy, especially since you're free of deodorant, body
spray, lotion, everything. You have to
be aware of what you touch and whether or not your stomach rolls are sweating
and wiping off the tan. At one point I decided to clean up cat puke with a
Lysol wipe and it dripped on my arm. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Luckily the white spot disappeared after my shower. 7 hours later, I was tired of smelling like
death so I went upstairs for my much anticipated shower. I briefly forgot the girl's warning that I
would be darkest before my shower. I
panicked when I looked in the mirror and looked like the blonde sister of my
Mexican brother-in-law. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>I checked my tan lines and immediately noticed 2 things: a)
I looked 20 lbs thinner than my whiter self had looked under those horrible
fluorescent lights and b) my stretch marks were suddenly magnified x100. (They faded slightly after my shower but definitely
still more visible than with whiter skin.)
After my shower, I was able to see the true results and I was very happy
with them. Just a nice glow that I had
badly needed. I felt better already. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>The next day, I noticed bumps on my stomach. Over the next couple days, they spread to my
arms, neck, and back and were really itchy.
So I've concluded that I'm allergic to the dye in the spray tan. I make sure I use a lot of lotion so I don't
dry out and that's helped with the itchiness.
But because of this, I don't think another airbrush tan is in my future,
so I'll have to wait for bathing suit season to get another tan. As of today, I still have a good tan going
but it should start to fade in about a week.
Definitely not long enough for the price I paid. If you get an airbrush tan, definitely use a
Groupon. It ain't cheap and it lasts for
12 days max. Aside from the rash, I
recommend it. It's safer than the sun or
tanning booths and gives you a nice color.
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>It's the little things that make a big difference, so I'm
glad I took this tiny step for myself.
Now that the majority of my looooong cold is over, I started running
again. Still hate it as much as I always
have but I know it clears my head of unhappiness and negativity, so I'll stick
with it. Summer is coming, after
all. I even ordered new Brooks for
myself, another little thing that cheered me up. The tan and running shoes weren't the
cheapest form of happiness, so hopefully a skunk comes along soon so I can get
a free burst of motivation. </b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-12454688208175807552016-02-21T19:48:00.002-06:002016-02-21T19:48:58.857-06:00HealingAlmost a month has passed since a wrench was thrown into my future plans. It's been a month of heartbreak, sadness, bargaining, sleepless nights. But I think in the last 24 hours, a page has been turned for me. I wouldn't quite say I'm entering the acceptance phase yet. That will likely take months. But I've slowly managed to start climbing out of the depression stage. I'm still sad every day and still have (sometimes embarrassing) moments of randomly breaking into tears. But I no longer feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest or that my heart is shattering inside my body. I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. <br />
<br />
This breakthrough has definitely come as a result of a lot of self-reflection and long, emotional talks with my best bud. I hit a rock-bottom moment the Friday before last. With my job, I drive a lot, and therefore have a lot of alone time to do nothing but think, which can be a dangerous thing when you're mad, sad, annoyed... I have a couple hours during every day to stew over the things that bother me, lots of time for the what-ifs, time to wallow in my own misery. Those imaginary arguments that you have with yourself in your shower...multiply that by 10. On that particular Friday, just over a week ago, I was reaching the guilt stage. Now, I never thought I'd actually go through this stage of grief. I thought I would skip right over it, because what did I have to feel guilty about? I didn't cheat, I wasn't mean; if anything, I had probably been too good of a girlfriend. Too accommodating, too agreeable. A doormat, basically. But here it was, the guilt phase slapping me in the face that morning. And it took the wind right out of me. <br />
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The feeling that I felt that morning that caught me off guard was a complete feeling of inadequacy. I suddenly felt not good enough and I hadn't allowed myself to feel that way in a very long time. I felt guilty for not being "enough" for him. If I had been "enough", he would have been ok. If I had been "enough", he wouldn't have done this or that, or said this or that. He would've fixed his issues if I had been enough. If my son had been enough. The reasonable, smart Becca knew this was absolutely ludicrous. I had been good to him. We had made great memories as a little family. I had spoiled him and made him feel special and given him so much attention and made excuses for him. But the emotional, broken Becca that had just lost a long-term partner couldn't see this. All I could see was that despite my best efforts, it had fallen apart. I hadn't been enough for him to keep it together, <br />
<br />
It took me several days of having this destructive thought process before I finally told broken Becca to shut-up. I was scrolling through Facebook one day and saw this quote on my news feed. It was probably the best timing I've experienced in a long time. <br />
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Jodi Picoult is one of my favorite authors (although I haven't yet read this particular book), and she was 100% right. I had spent my entire 3-year relationship trying to mend a broken person and naively convincing myself that it was my responsibility. I thought that by fixing his broken heart left over from his divorce, patching up those insecurities so he felt loved and wanted, and being ridiculously patient with him, that those things would make me "enough". I thought it would guarantee me a happy life with the man that I loved. I thought that by being that person, his "saving grace" so to speak, that it would make us complete, that we would complete each other. </div>
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I never thought I would want to try to "fix" another man. The last man I tried to fix was a decade ago and I learned way back then that a person has to fix himself. Nobody can do it for him. People have to grow and make their own decisions to be a good person and make good choices. But here I was again, trying to be that savior for another person and I didn't even realize it. Why? Maybe it was the fact that he had a lot of great qualities that I wasn't used to in a man. He was educated, handsome, tall, outdoorsy, liked good music... I felt like I had hit the jackpot when I started dating him. But I saw red flags and ignored them. Over time, those red flags disappeared so, looking back, I think I thought I had conquered him. I had succeeded in saving him. I was his girl and he was my future husband and everything was going to be perfect because I had been patient and accommodating. WRONG...</div>
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So many girls and women go through life and relationships with this same mentality. Some like the bad boys, they like a challenge. They like to "save" people. I honestly didn't even realize I was one of these women anymore. Maybe in my 20's, but not now. I had been single for 2 years before I met him. I didn't have the patience, time, or energy to fix someone or chase someone. Ain't nobody got time fo dat, especially a single mom. It took me 3 years, the end of a relationship, my friend shaking sense into me, and then this Jodi Picoult quote for me to see that that is exactly what I had been trying to do. It completely explained why I suddenly felt like a complete failure. I had set myself up for failure. Because... this...</div>
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Let me tell you, friends. Love is not all you need, contrary to Mr. Lennon's claims. You can love a person forever and not mend them. You can love everything about them and tell them every day, and still not make them feel secure or happy. You can only be so much for a person. And that's where I went wrong. True, I wasn't enough to fix those things, but I'm finally seeing that it's not a reflection on me. It's not my job to fix anyone other than myself and my patients (and the occasional attitude adjustment for my son). It took some reminding over the last couple weeks, but it finally sunk in yesterday. I know my worth. I know what I have to offer and someday, that will be enough for someone and I won't have to spend day after day trying to convince them (and myself) of this fact.</div>
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The healing process has begun and that brings me a sliver of relief. Baby steps... deleting my 111 pins from my wedding album on Pinterest (I'll make a new album if that special person makes an entrance into my life later on), reading novels again (I finished an entire novel this week alone), working on my blog, focusing on work, watching Isaac show off his mad baseball skills, anticipating the upcoming Rangers season. All of these things bring me joy that I haven't felt in a long time. When you finally stop the daunting task of trying to make others happy when they don't want that for themselves, you suddenly have so much more time and breathing room to enjoy what and who matters the most in your life. In closing...</div>
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Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-3665801103055419702016-02-06T20:53:00.001-06:002016-02-06T20:53:53.381-06:00Love and Loss<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>The last time I posted to my blog, I was new to the 30 Club. I had accepted that my youth was over and I had fully embraced my 30's. I was excited to be done with the drama of being a 20-something, excited to be a "real" adult. Surely crazy things wouldn't happen in my 30's. People settle down, get married, settle into family life. Men in their 30's don't play annoying games. They're grown up. They're ready for a family and ok with dating a single mom. They know what they want. Right? Yet here I am, 34 years old, sitting at home on a Saturday night, writing a blog post as a sort of therapy to heal a heart that I had naively convinced myself wouldn't get broken in my 30's. Trying to figure out how to proceed with a life that I thought I had in order years ago, and trying to accept that future plans won't ever happen now. </b></div>
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<b>People use the word "grief" when someone has died, but I've come to realize over the last several days and weeks that it can absolutely be used to describe the feeling that comes with the end of a significant relationship. And by "significant relationship", I mean any relationship that had a profound impact on your life. I don't care if it lasted 6 months, 3 years, or 20 years. I don't care if you were domestic partners or if you had a piece of paper telling you that you're legally bound to that person. I don't mean to downplay the meaning of marriage. I don't actually think of it as "a piece of paper". But over the years, married and divorced folks have downplayed my marriage-less relationships often. "A marriage is always more important than a long-term partnership." "You don't understand how a divorce feels." I've always been highly irritated by the inaccuracy of these statements. I've had 3 relationships that lasted longer than a lot of marriages I've seen. One of them lasted for half of my 20's and produced a child and, in turn, a family. That same relationship lasted longer than the dating relationship and marriage combined of my most recent ex-boyfriend. We didn't have a ceremony or rings or a paper signed by a judge. But we were a family. And the end of that relationship was heart-wrenching and took years to get past. Fast forward 8 years and that same heart-wrenching feeling is back, minus the legal proceedings to separate property and children. Is it any less significant because there wasn't a marriage? Absolutely not. I lost an entire family of people who treated me like their own, a family I so desperately wanted to be my own someday soon. My son lost a father figure that he loved whole heartedly for 3 years. Ironically, one of those divorced people who often downplayed the end of my marriage-less long-term relationships happens to be the other half of this story and sitting a few blocks away, no doubt feeling the same devastation that I am feeling tonight. So for all of you who have never been married but have lost someone significant, I understand. Your feelings are valid.<br /><br />The term "sick with grief" is so unbelievably accurate. The physical symptoms of heartbreak are sometimes more difficult to deal with than the emotional ones. They make it hard to function, get out of bed, go to work, eat, sleep. It's as though you can feel your heart breaking from the inside out. Queasiness with every meal, stomach ache, sleeplessness...I haven't slept through the night since September, when the first signs of what was to come appeared. But I'd say the worst physical symptom is the breathlessness. Feeling like someone is sitting on your chest. There are so many days, several times a day, when I can't even take a deep breath. I catch myself holding my breath because my chest is heavy with grief. I'm sure it's also anxiety. Fear of the unknown and someday starting over, fear of never seeing that person again. Wondering how you are ever going to go to all of the places that you went to with that person again. State parks, cabins, our favorite Irish pub. Wondering if you should go ahead and delete your 111 pins in your "Future Wedding" album on Pinterest.</b></div>
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<b>I also feel like the amount of anxiety you feel is directly related to the progression of the breakup. When a couple is gradually unraveling, even though the end of the relationship is just as sad, you feel more prepared. With Isaac's dad and I, we were falling apart before Isaac ever made his entrance into the world. The end of the relationship was devastating, but it was inevitable and I had almost 2 years to prepare myself. Not that we didn't try during those 2 years. But when it ended, it wasn't anything too shocking. To anybody. With my current situation, the unraveling was somewhat sudden. When it goes from good to bad in a matter of a few months after almost 3 years together, your heart doesn't have time to process the devastation. You go through the stages of grief, sometimes multiple stages in one day. I'd say the most common one right now is Bargaining. If only we hadn't taken the next step in our relationship. If only we had done this or that differently. The bargaining phase is full of regret and living in the past. I think this phase makes it harder to move on because you're still thinking of all of the things that happened prior to the switch being flipped. These things cloud your judgement. We start thinking that those good things will fix the bad things. But in all honesty, the bad things wouldn't have happened if the good things had been enough. I also try to bargain with the future. Maybe we can be friends someday. It's been known to happen. I have a pretty cordial relationship with most of the people I have dated, but some time has to pass. Sometimes it takes a couple months, sometimes it takes 6 years. Sometimes it never happens. But I know these thoughts are likely because I'm not ready to let go. I guess that will come with the Acceptance phase, which I think I am pretty far from right now.<br /><br />Anger is another common feeling. Just frustration that I'm dealing with this again at 34 years old. I have questioned God, fate, karma... Why? Am I supposed to be learning some kind of lesson again? Did I do something in a previous love life that put a curse on me? Maybe a previous ex shoved a needle through the heart of a voodoo doll like Dane Cook's scorned lover in Good Luck Chuck. That would explain why the majority of my exes end up marrying the person they date after the end of our relationship. You're welcome, guys. <br /><br />The thought of moving on is painful and it likely won't happen for a very long time. A few days ago, I fully intended to never date again. But a close friend of mine encouraged me to "leave the door open just a crack". I deserve happiness and love as much as the next girl. <br /><br />The only real comfort I've had is to just remind myself of the positives of the whole situation. There will always be a silver lining in every bad thing that happens to you. The silver lining here is that I'll be able to do things that I haven't done in a while because he didn't want to, like watching UFC, watching live music, listening to my music in the car, maybe work on my blog again, etc. I'll have time to read novels again. I can take mini trips with just Isaac like we used to. There's always a silver lining. Life will go on, the sun will come up tomorrow, and at the end of the day, I still have the biggest love of my life sitting next to me, biting his toenails and watching cartoons.</b></div>
Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-47235236517225755742013-04-23T16:56:00.001-05:002013-04-23T16:58:21.803-05:00Lazy Girl's Guide to Running"How often in life we complete a task that was beyond the capability of the person we were when we started it." ~Robert Brault<br />
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It's hard to believe that in less than 2 weeks, I will be completing my 17th race and my first 10k. It doesn't seem like that long ago that I was wishing I could run but doubting my ability to make it happen. I chose the title because, even though I have made a ton of progress in the last year and a half, I'm still very much a lazy runner. I don't "love" to run and most days I would prefer to sit on my couch and watch baseball in my underwear and eat a cupcake rather than go for a run or to the gym. You don't have to be Miss Athlete to be a runner, you just have to make the choice to do it even when your couch is calling your name. I decided to compile this list as a way to help other people who are thinking about running or have already started and may be struggling. <br />
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<strong>1. Get started</strong><br />
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Getting started is the hardest part of anything, especially where any kind of exercise is involved. How many times have you set a weight or fitness goal as a New Year's resolution only to give up by February 1? I've tried to start running several times in my life. In high school, I ran around the tennis courts before practice and hated every moment of it. I only played tennis for the cute skirt and to avoid gym class anyway, not because I was athletic. In college, I would get motivated very briefly and run around the track at my dorm, all the while thinking about the cookie I had thrown away the night before and desperately wanting to go retrieve it (I did, by the way...it was still soft and tasty. The 5 second rule doesn't apply to cookies). In 2009, I tried again to start running, this time with a running group, and ended up with tendinitis in my ankle. So I quit and ate my frustrations and developed quite the rear. In July 2011, I tried yet again and actually stuck with it for a month or so. My first 5k trek around my neighborhood took me a long 50:26. My shins hurt, my lungs were on fire and I felt every extra pound in my pants. After a month of dealing with shin pain and humid nighttime runs, I gave up yet again. It was only after my sister guilt-tripped me into registering for my first 5k that I finally decided to "get started" for the last time. That was in September of 2011, and 16 races later, I haven't looked back since. My 5k time has gone from that very slow 50:26 to my most recent personal best of 31:45. I never thought I would be this close to the 30:00 mark. My cousin, who is an awesome marathon runner, told me a long time ago, "I want to be there the first time you finish in under 30:00." At the time I just thought, "Not gonna happen...ever." But I'm already very close to that milestone. You just have to set your mind to it and do it. You have to push out every doubt you have in yourself and ignore the agony you feel after several (or two) minutes of running and remember that it'll eventually pass. And if you start to think, "I'll start again next week", just realize that when next week rolls around and you're struggling to make it around your neighborhood, you're going to be kicking yourself for not starting last week. So just do it. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_6ZCRHopU3cuZqrgpvDCK93JIQ3o6Hubzn92JP0yozlk-ZWUZZiIrN-C95FfwC_DvphyphenhyphengED3h6hntLY_pe8SsYVjDnwp5dd6H4eXIoMPp7esVLVLHRFD-bQIZrOYclWj719CKRlh659c/s1600/running2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" dua="true" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_6ZCRHopU3cuZqrgpvDCK93JIQ3o6Hubzn92JP0yozlk-ZWUZZiIrN-C95FfwC_DvphyphenhyphengED3h6hntLY_pe8SsYVjDnwp5dd6H4eXIoMPp7esVLVLHRFD-bQIZrOYclWj719CKRlh659c/s1600/running2.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in July 2011, except chubbier than these chicks.</td></tr>
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<strong>2. Plan a fun race</strong><br />
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I was kind of thrown into my first race via the guilt trip, but it changed my life. Setting a concrete goal such as a race (and paying the registration fee) will help motivate you to start and keep training. If I hadn't registered for my first race, I would've eventually given up again. But because I paid $25 and promised my sister (and probably announced it on Facebook), I felt like I HAD to complete it. Not that you should guilt trip yourself into running, that's not what I'm saying. Yes, my first race was a guilt trip race, but the 15 races after that were a way to pump myself up and get excited about running. I always made sure to choose really fun races (a glow-in-the-dark race, my hometown race, a Halloween race, etc) so that I looked forward to running it. Planning my outfit based on the race's theme was one of the most motivating things for me. See #3. <br />
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<strong>3. Shoes/outfit</strong><br />
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SHOES ARE EVERYTHING! Especially if you're as injury/accident prone as I am. It took me several running injuries before I finally realized that bad shoes were my main issue. I mean, I had a lot of other issues in the beginning (an extra 30 lbs on my butt, horrible running form that resembled Phoebe Buffay from Friends, an inability to steady my breathing, just to name a few), but my poor quality running shoes really had the biggest impact on the misery I experienced those first several running attempts. I suggest going to a running store and getting fitted for running shoes. They'll do a gait analysis, tell you if you walk/run funny (I do) and tell you what shoe you should get and what size based on that information (usually 1/2 to 1 size larger than your regular shoe size - your feet swell when you run). Don't be cheap, especially if you're prone to shin splits or joint issues. Spending about $100 is normal for good running shoes. I'd rather spend $100 every year (yes, you need to replace them eventually because they wear down) than spend $40 and have them sit in my closet because I got injured and gave up again. Now, about your outfit... This may be a woman thing, but most likely it's just a Becca thing and doesn't matter to most other people. But I'm a weirdo who is much more motivated and energetic if I look as cute as I possibly can while running. My face is pretty hideous at the end of a run, so all I can really control is the outfit. That's one reason I choose fun, themed races because the costume/outfit I get to wear gets me excited. Who wouldn't be pumped up to wear a tutu or a Batman costume or knee-high neon socks during a run? But feeling good in your running outfit doesn't just apply to races. I have found that if I like what I'm wearing during a workout or training run, I have more energy. I may be the only person who suddenly gets a burst of energy mid-run because I remember that I'm wearing my hot pink sports bra and matching underwear. Whatever works!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs37usPhAmQBdWG7IsuGxBmsz2Bypkajf_LKMMtikNG51LCng3GRg6ZG-4qmf9R8XKzxLD8nkhevpi-hae_objPos3n59swmxpcmzod1Vx1ZzcQ5i8nj_54ZvQnPCepaXoXlSrj0udlic/s1600/tutu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" dua="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs37usPhAmQBdWG7IsuGxBmsz2Bypkajf_LKMMtikNG51LCng3GRg6ZG-4qmf9R8XKzxLD8nkhevpi-hae_objPos3n59swmxpcmzod1Vx1ZzcQ5i8nj_54ZvQnPCepaXoXlSrj0udlic/s320/tutu.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See how excited my outfit made me?</td></tr>
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<strong>4. Weight</strong><br />
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Would you rather run while carrying 50 lbs worth of candy bars in your underwear or without? Weight matters where running is concerned, at least for me. I've seen heavier people run 5k's, sometimes way faster than me, but for me, I do much better and struggle less when I weigh less. When I first started running in 2011, I was 35 lbs heavier and really didn't "run". I walked with a hop and my butt bounced behind me with every hop. As I lost weight, my race times and overall endurance improved. Not to mention that races were much less swamp-assy when my thighs weren't rubbing together in my yoga pants the whole time. <br />
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<strong>5. Diet</strong><br />
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Diet obviously contributes to weight, but it also affects how you feel when you run. Even if you're the type of person who can eat chicken enchiladas and a 6-pack of beer and not gain a pound, it'll still have a negative affect on your run. Running bounces and shakes and jolts your body around. Your stomach is bouncing around in there and I'm sure your intestines are being flopped around, too, and you know what those contain. I have found that I feel best when I stick to meat, nuts, fruit and vegetables (very low carb - you need some good carbs for energy but heavy, starchy carbs weigh you down and make you feel like you might fill your pants mid-run. Never a pleasant sensation). I try to follow this diet most of the time, but your diet is especially important the day before and day of a race. Feel free to pig out after a race - post-race meals are the BEST - but I wouldn't recommend eating a stack of pancakes or a plate of Mexican food within 24 hours before a race. Do what you want but you'll be wishing you had listened to me when you're trying to push down the queasiness and/or desperately looking for a bush during mile 2. Trust me, I've been that girl. Many times. <br />
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<strong>6. Music</strong><br />
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Music is a huge motivator for me. I can't run without it. It energizes me when things get tough and puts me in a good mood when I just want to quit. My 5k playlist has changed a lot over the last year and a half. I used to think music was music. I figured if I liked the songs, they could be on my running playlist. Over time I realized that my song choices played a huge role in how well I did and how energized I was able to stay. I love slow country love songs and depressing breakup music, but that music wasn't conducive to a successful run. It made me sleepy, unmotivated and hungry for chocolate. And anything repetitive is really annoying when you're struggling to breathe and stay upright. There are songs I can sing and dance to in the car but if they suddenly start playing mid-race when I'm already angry at the world, it drives me insane. For example, Isaac put "Baby" by Justin Bieber on my playlist before my first Halloween 5k (by the way, this is an example of a repetitive song, not a song I dance to in my car...just to set that straight). It was a miserable, frigid, hilly race and I was in a tutu. The Biebs came on at the very end of the race when I was in the process of trying to stay ahead of a dad and son so I could avoid coming in last. At that moment, I had to make the choice to either slow down and turn the song off or ignore it and keep running. My fear of being last beat out my hatred for Justin Bieber and I suffered through the rest of the race with that song playing. When I crossed the finish line (not last), turning it off took precedence over yanking my shorts out of my crotch or wiping the snot off my face. After that race, I always make sure to triple check and update my playlist before each race or training run. I still have a huge variety of music (everything from Luke Bryan to Usher to Soilwork to Casting Crowns), but all of it is upbeat and motivating. Most of it is heavy metal and rock lately. I guess I like to be screamed at when I'm about to give up. :-)<br />
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<strong>7. Focal point</strong><br />
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I'll be honest, I struggle more after the 2nd mile of races than I did during childbirth. When you're in labor, they tell you to choose an object or area in the room and use it as your focal point so you can take your mind off your agony and fight through the pain. The same applies to running. I choose a focal point every time I run, whether it be a training run or a race. Sometimes I have several depending on where I am running. If I'm on the treadmill at the gym, I usually just focus on the street lamp outside and never take my eyes away from it. It takes my mind off any pain or exhaustion I may be feeling and keeps me from looking at my time and distance on the treadmill. When I run outside, I usually have several focal points that change as the scenery changes. If I'm running alone, I focus on a tree, landmark or person in the distance and tell myself that I WILL keep running and not walk until I reach that point. I do the same thing during races but mainly focus on people. Sometimes I'll watch someone's butt in front of me and enviously wonder how they manage to keep their shorts on the outside of their body. Other times I'll focus on someone ahead of me that I would be embarrassed to finish after, like a little kid or a baby in a stroller. I'll pick up speed until I pass them, think to myself, "That's right, baby. Move aside!" and then choose another person to be my new focal point. Having something to focus on helps the time to go by faster and helps you to get out of your head. Running really is (mostly) mental...see #8. <br />
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<strong>8. Mental vs physical </strong><br />
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It took me over a year and 13 1/2 races to realize that running is more mental than physical. Back in those earlier running days, I was positive that my shin splints, fat butt and Buddha belly were 90% of my issues. It wasn't until I was in the middle of my November 2012 race that I realized my self-doubt and mind games caused most of my misery. I was in decent shape for this race, was at a reasonable weight, the weather was perfect, it was a night race and I hadn't eaten tacos that day, yet I was still struggling to survive after a panic attack hit when my running app on my phone stopped working. I had obsessively used that app as a security blanket during my races so that I could track how far I was from the finish line. When I realized the app wasn't working during that race, I freaked out and started thinking that there was no way I could finish running it, I was probably far from the finish line and I was going to finish in a terrible time. Just that mental war I was having with myself made me feel exhausted and like I was going to pass out. That's when it clicked that it really was all in my head (there was no way a running app on my phone could make or break a race), and I just had to suck it up, turn up my music and keep my eye on the prize. That race ended up being my fastest race to this day. I still use my running app religiously but I'm now able to tell the difference between a mental war vs a physical struggle. I'd say it's 80-20. You still have to build your endurance and get stronger physically, but the thing that prevents us from improving over time isn't the junk in our trunks, it's the negative junk in our heads. <br />
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<strong>9. Injury awareness</strong><br />
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I am the running injury queen. You name it, I've had it: shin splints (more times than I can count), runner's knee, tendinitis, plantar fasciitis... The frequency of these injuries decreased significantly once I packed on leg muscle and got better running shoes, but they still come back on occasion. The key is knowing when you have an injury vs soreness and when you should rest vs fight through it. The best way to fight off injuries is to stretch before and after running and to ice your legs, even if they're not really sore. Stretching your calves and hamstrings is so very important. Those muscles are attached to everything - your shins, your knees, your heels. I had calf pain for a couple weeks one time and suddenly got plantar fasciitis (heel issue) that was directly related to my tight calves. If your soreness just feels like normal muscle pain from exercise, it's ok to run through it. That's how you build muscle. But if it's pain in a joint or sharp pain in your shins, rest for a few days or a week and ice it. Ice baths SUCK HARDCORE, but they allow you to ice everything all at once and it actually feels better when, you know, you can't feel anything below the waist. You just have to know your body and know when something isn't right. If you have a feeling it's an injury rather than soreness, err on the side of caution and don't run for a while. You'll make it worse and end up giving up and eating your sorrows. I've been there. And since I'm telling you to not run through injuries, I probably shouldn't tell you that I have my 2nd case of ankle tendinitis and not only am I still running, but I plan to complete my first 10k in a couple weeks. I'll suffer the consequences of my stubbornness for sure, much like I did after my December race when I ran with strep and bronchitis in 28* weather. I may not be able to walk afterwards, but the accomplishment alone will make it all worth it, as well as the copious amounts of burgers and beer that I plan to consume as my celebratory meal. But yeah, like I said before, don't run through running injuries...it's BAD. <br />
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<strong>10. Cross training</strong><br />
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I've always hated exercise. I didn't like the muscle soreness or the difficult time I had walking for the 2 days after a session of squats and lunges. But cross training will benefit you greatly when it comes to your running progress. Running requires the use of your whole body, not just your legs. Every muscle group is involved - abs, legs, even your arms. If one or more of these muscles are weak, it'll slow you down and make you feel tired a lot faster. I started incorporating cross training sessions into my gym visits about 3 months after I started running. As I built muscle, I got faster and less tired. Then for about 6 months, I got lazy and only ran. I noticed a difference right away. Without the cross training, I wasn't building the most important muscles that I needed to increase my speed, endurance or metabolism. Sure, I still had some nice calf and shin muscles, but my hamstrings and quads were weak, I still had a fat stomach and I had no upper body strength. So I started back up with these muscle groups on my non-run days several months ago and haven't stopped since. My quads and hamstrings are stronger and more muscular and I run faster as a result. Not to mention, these main muscle groups have helped me to become a champ at hovering over public toilet seats for several seconds. It's a win-win really. <br />
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I hope this list was helpful for anyone who is thinking about running or has recently started running. I subscribe to Runner's World magazine and have read hundreds of articles on "how to run" and none of them really spoke specifically to me. I felt like I was the minority, the one person who had so many issues becoming "A Runner" when it seemed so easy for others. So maybe you're just like I was and you'll read this, have extra hope and think, "Ahh ok, she struggled just like I am and has managed to pull through." Or better yet, you'll feel way better about yourself after reading about all of my problems and think, "Wow, my experience doesn't seem quite so bad anymore." Either way, I hope it gave you some encouragement and motivation to continue running. It's been a life changer for me. <br />
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Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-30147457488819897292013-03-28T20:20:00.001-05:002013-03-28T20:38:29.178-05:00Firefly Run, 2013 EditionFirefly Run, Plano, TX - March 23, 2013<br />
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#16. It's crazy to think that I had already completed 15 races, 12 of which were all in 2012. I was ready to start 2013 off right and decided that the Firefly Run was the perfect race for my first of the year. This particular race is my favorite. The course is totally flat, it's a night race (which I LOVE) and the glow-in-the dark atmosphere makes me happy. My friend Priscilla and her boyfriend Sid decided to run it with me. I did it with my niece last year, but she's now in the Navy so I was bummed that she couldn't be there. We had a blast last year. <br />
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I had pre-race jitters like crazy before this race. I always have some anxiety before a race but usually I don't have much time to dwell on it since they're typically morning races. With this race, I had an entire 12 hours to worry about all of the crazy things that I worry about before a race. Was I ready? Had I trained enough? It had been 3 months since my last 5k so I was nervous. But I had been doing my 10k training since January so I was about as prepared as I was going to be. Shorts or pants? It was 55* but I wanted to wear glow-in-the-dark gear on my legs, so I went with shorts. What should I eat during the day? And more importantly, what had I eaten the day before that I might need to "expel"? Think I'm gross all you want (do you really expect anything less from me?) but this matters to runners, trust me. The LAST thing you want to happen to you during a race of 7,000 participants is to have crippling stomach pains and a blowout mid-race because you chose to eat tacos and beer the night before. And lastly, my most important concern (yes, even more important than filling my pants during mile 2) was that there would be a really good looking guy at the finish line this time. I recently started seeing someone and he planned to be at the race. As I've mentioned in previous blog posts, I'm not even remotely cute when I finish running. I'm sweaty, red, panting and look a little like I might stroke out. I haven't been with Hottie long enough to subject him to that image. My post-race look is a borderline deal breaker. So how was I going to cross the finish line still looking semi-cute, without my shorts lodged in my uterus? I finally had to accept that the only thing I had any control over was the shorts. I couldn't control my red face or sweaty boobs or my disheveled hair, but I could pre-plan the dislodging of the shorts prior to making the last turn before the finish line. <br />
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There were SO MANY people at this race. Thousands. There were 7,000 last year and I think there may have been more this year. Last year I had been worried about dodging so many people but had done pretty well. This year was even more nerve-wracking because of the increased number of little kids and baby strollers. Not to mention it would be DARK and the ground was wet from the earlier rain storm. I pushed my way towards the front and hoped that the parents with small children had been smart enough to stay towards the back. I knew that the combination of thousands of people, cold weather and crazy North TX winds would make this a semi-unpleasant race, so my playlist for that night consisted mainly of hard rock and heavy metal to get me through the tough moments. My goal was to beat last year's time of 36:08. <br />
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The first mile was spent dodging pint-sized runners who didn't know to stay to the right. When I'd find an open space, I'd sprint in order to make up for time I had lost while trying to get around people. Even after all these races, I have yet to learn to pace myself. I finished the first mile in 10:30 and the 2nd by 22:45. That gave me over 13 min to finish the last 1.1 mile. Problem was, the wind was killing my lungs and the blinking light bracelet I had strapped around my calf was digging into my muscle every time I flexed. I could've ripped it off but I didn't want to get trampled if I slowed down. So I sucked it up and kept going. <br />
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Hottie was supposed to text me when he arrived but my phone hadn't buzzed during the race. So I assumed he hadn't found a place to park and wasn't going to be at the finish line. But I wasn't about to risk the surprise of running towards him with my shorts several inches higher than they needed to be. So I slowed down slightly before the last turn and pulled them back down over my butt cheeks where they belonged. <br />
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As I've mentioned before, I have a rule against walking across the finish line. I always reserve enough energy at the very end to run across, even if I'm all out of steam. But at the end of this race, I completely misjudged the distance to the finish line and started running again much too soon. As a result of this misjudgment, I had just set myself up to finish the race in the most unattractive condition possible. Not only had I removed my shorts from my throat an entire 50 yards too soon, but I also had left way too much time at the end for my lungs to handle. It had been a cold, windy run so they had had it. But since I couldn't break my finish line rule, I had to deal with it and keep going and hope that I didn't vomit, pass out or look too pathetic when I crossed the finish line. By the time I reached the end, my shorts were back up so far that I could feel the cold wind in places that shouldn't have been able to feel the wind. My ears were ringing, partly from the wind and partly from the Soilwork song blaring from my earbuds. My lungs were on fire, my left calf was in pain and I'm pretty sure I had an ugly grimace on my face from the extra effort. I crossed the finish line in 35:26, beating last year's goal and making this my 2nd fastest 5k. <br />
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Lucky for me (and probably for his eyes), Hottie hadn't made it to the finish line due to the parking issue. He didn't have to witness the wheezing or the I'm-going-to-puke face or watch me walk around disoriented, looking for water. I finally found water but was too shaky and tired to open the bottle, so I asked two guys standing near me to open it for me. They looked at me like I was an alien for a few seconds until one of them asked me if I was ok. I said yes, that I was just tired and couldn't open my water. They continued to stare at me skeptically (come on guys, did you actually think I was pretending to look like I was on the verge of having a stroke just so I could hit on you and use my water as a pick-up line? Just open my fricken water already!) until finally one of them opened my bottle and handed it back to me. Semi-hydrated and now able to breathe, I called Hottie and met him for post-race beers. Unfortunately, beer was my only celebratory food/drink so I was crazy dehydrated the next day. I didn't eat my normal pig-out post-race meal or even drink much water for that matter. Just some Blue Moon while watching Comedy Central with a good lookin' dude who had unknowingly avoided seeing me at my ugliest a few hours earlier. <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPdUGk5JJsLP1uWRntNwHFNpNpodPeAIlY0J9iYhHwUe7JrHDmo-Lp064_oWDJvAy5vvXvgyvTHaHbi-IY1Zy7Yz9fm5hWgxWYrlGouF0C94qOPFfrW6O1Cd-4fZ8b6cKCq0cGHjJ5goM/s640/blogger-image--775263925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPdUGk5JJsLP1uWRntNwHFNpNpodPeAIlY0J9iYhHwUe7JrHDmo-Lp064_oWDJvAy5vvXvgyvTHaHbi-IY1Zy7Yz9fm5hWgxWYrlGouF0C94qOPFfrW6O1Cd-4fZ8b6cKCq0cGHjJ5goM/s640/blogger-image--775263925.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXEQK27Lj9A-kR8mqFUwKiwS5oOErwdwIMO09Z2iXFHpAQsUvZMcyc37nNzF-bigYBDjfXanDf1KxaizTUVcbyNLP2Ink_PcusnOK1E890BJcmHNI9LCbAS3n_aTb4NfGSHy-TpjHrOh0/s640/blogger-image-1091006457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXEQK27Lj9A-kR8mqFUwKiwS5oOErwdwIMO09Z2iXFHpAQsUvZMcyc37nNzF-bigYBDjfXanDf1KxaizTUVcbyNLP2Ink_PcusnOK1E890BJcmHNI9LCbAS3n_aTb4NfGSHy-TpjHrOh0/s640/blogger-image-1091006457.jpg" /></a></div>Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-70030858434361829072013-03-08T07:56:00.001-06:002013-03-08T07:56:13.549-06:00Guide to Happy Dating<span style="font-family: inherit;">Isaac: "Mommy, I was really mad at Kaley today." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: "Why? What did she do?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Isaac: "I said hi to her and she told me not to talk to her because I was a boy. That's mean. So I don't want any girls at my birthday party this year."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's starting already. 1st grade. I didn't have the heart to tell him that this was only the beginning of the two decades of rejection he is likely to experience at the hands of women. But while I felt sad for his sensitive heart that is sure to be broken several times throughout his life, I couldn't help but to feel grateful that I have a son instead of a daughter. Maybe I'm just biased (since I'm a girl and all), but I think the dating world is way more brutal for women than it is for men. Maybe it's because we think with our hearts. Or because we are hard-wired to over-analyze everything that is said or done, especially where relationships are concerned. Either way, dating sucks for women.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Because it sucks so much, I took an almost 2-year hiatus to just be alone. 2 years of not worrying about whether someone is into me or just looking for a good time or a time-filler for a weekend night. 2 years of not stressing over what to wear on a date or shaving my legs every Saturday night or paying a babysitter $25 to go on a mediocre date with someone who probably wouldn't call me the next day anyway. 2 years of anti-sappy-romance and closing up my heart and mind to the charming ways of the opposite sex. It was 2 years of single bliss. Then....late last year, my sister assisted in shattering that image of a happy, solitary, man-less life. I'm almost ashamed to admit how she did this, but long story short, she made me watch Twilight. I had avoided those stupid vampire movies for 4 years and never had any intention of wasting my time watching the horrible acting skills and ridiculous story line. But with much prodding, over the course of 2 days, I watched all 5 movies in the series. As much as I still feel that the concept is pretty fricken stupid, I couldn't deny that it was a beautiful love story. I could also no longer deny that I was lonely and missed feeling excited about someone. So I recently decided to re-enter the cruel dating world with the hopes that my experiences of the past would help me to sniff out the bad ones before they once again turned me into a bitter old cat lady.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">As naive and forgiving as I tend to be at times, I'd like to think that I'm pretty good at identifying red flags in someone and assigning them to a dating category. In the past 4 years that I've been in TX, I've gone out with 11 different men (some being just one date and others having turned into a dating relationship), and I've been (un)lucky enough to have experienced many different "types". So allow me to educate you on these categories and red flags.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">1. <strong>The Hoover</strong>: This isn't as inappropriate as it sounds and he is quite common. The Hoover is someone who doesn't like you enough to actively pursue you but will suck you back in the second that he senses that you're catching on to this and start backing off. I've dated several Hoovers. And given my natural instinct to assume the best in someone, the Hoover Maneuver often works. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">2. <strong>The Game Player</strong>: This guy is an expert player in "the dating game". The one who follows the dating rules and often makes up his own. Like the 72-hour rule - don't call her for 72 hours after a date. What?! So many people fall for this and it's straight up BS. If you like her, call her. If you don't, say so. One thing that I learned from watching He's Just Not That Into You is that if he's not calling you, he doesn't like you. And if he's not calling because he's playing "the game", you don't want to date that kind of guy anyway. We're in our 30's, not 18. You have a mere 10-15 years before you're that creepy old guy sitting at the bar trying to buy shots for younger women. Time is of the essence at this point, so fricken call her. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Moving on...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">3. <strong>Stage 5 Clinger</strong>: Anyone who has seen Wedding Crashers knows what this is. For those of you who haven't, a Stage 5 Clinger is someone (usually a woman, but definitely can be a guy, trust me on this) who is extremely needy and clingy. They suffocate you with their insecure neediness. My sister likes to remind me that I was once this person in my early 20's (I disagree...maybe Stage 2 but definitely not Stage 5, just sayin'.) And until recently, I was guilty of assuming this was a "woman issue". I figured it was just a term men had for women who wanted to spend time together more than they did. I never really thought that I'd ever think of a guy as being a Clinger. I like when the person I am dating pays attention to me and texts me. However, I was set straight on this in January when I met the ultimate Stage 5 Clinger. Nice guy, super cute, very sweet, very funny and had MANNERS. A true gentleman. 4 days later, flippin' nuts. "Why aren't you texting me back (within 10 minutes)? Why don't you care about me? I love you!" Yikes! It took several days of being blatantly honest with him and finally ignoring him for him to go away. The sad thing is that I totally would've fallen for that behavior several years ago. I would've assumed he was just very attentive. But having been single for the past 2 years, it was an instant red flag and I no longer wanted or needed someone who was attached to me like a hemorrhoid. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">4. <strong>The Pig</strong>: This guy is quite common, too. I've referred to several of my dates (and my friends' dates) as pigs. If someone gropes you on the first date, he's a pig. If someone says something like, "I bet you're good in the sack", he's a pig. If someone obviously stares at your boobs the whole night on your first date, he's a pig. Now, I am an open-minded person and will acknowledge that men are drawn to boobs, especially nice boobs. But a non-pig is subtle about it if he steals a peek and is able to keep the glances to a minimum. Liking boobs doesn't make you a pig. Drooling over them on the first date does. My first date after the hiatus was "The Pig". It was a set-up by a mutual friend who couldn't have known he was a pig since they had never dated. We had a lot in common and both had a crude sense of humor, therefore it should've been a match made in heaven, right? Not so much. To start, he was 17 years my senior. Our friend had thought he was in his early 40's, not late 40's. But age difference aside, the main thing that made him undateable was the fact that he did all 3 things mentioned above on the first date. Seriously... Someone who falls into The Pig category needs to learn that if he plays his cards right, he'll eventually get to see boobs, but he damn well better treat me like a lady first. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">5. <strong>The Denial Dater</strong>: This guy is the ultimate time-waster. It's one thing to waste time on a date or 2 and then realize he's not a good catch or that you're not a good match, but The Denial Dater drags it out for months. He's just attentive enough to keep you interested and squash any worries about him being The Game Player or The Hoover, but he's not in it for the long haul and knows it all along. The reason for his moniker is what he does at the end of the 3 or so month relationship. He denies that the relationship ever existed. He usually says something like, "We weren't dating. We were hanging out." Or "I never told you we were exclusive." I've dated two of these and I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or punch them in the throat. I don't typically pay a babysitter hundreds of dollars over several months to "hang out" unless it's an agreed-upon Friend Zone situation. I'm good friends with a few of my past dates and that's cool. But don't wine and dine and kiss me for 90 days and then pretend we're just buds. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">6. <strong>The Mirage</strong>: This guy is a chameleon. He can pretend to be whatever he thinks you want him to be and he pulls it off like a champ. Sometimes for several months. He's probably the most disappointing type of date because he makes you believe that you've found your perfect match, but it's all based on a lie. Then when you realize they are The Mirage, it's hard to leave because you've already developed feelings for this joker. Some Mirages fake a certain personality while others fake interests and hobbies. I've dated both, as have my friends. My good friend's serious (now-ex)boyfriend pretended to value his faith but wasn't sure he even believed in God, pretended to be divorced while still living with his wife and pretended to be social like she very much is, but never spoke more than a few words to her friends. My first Mirage was in 2009 when I dated "Steve" (ok, that's actually his real name...). This guy was a fake sports fan, particularly hockey. Not sure how long he thought he was going to keep up that charade, but it didn't last long. It all came to a screeching halt when he didn't care about the Stanley Cup playoffs and didn't want to watch it (the Wings were in the finals that year). Then he admitted to not caring about sports but wanting to have something in common with me. Don't screw with my emotions when it comes to my love of sports. A good test would've been to ask him what a "hat trick" is. *Hint: it doesn't have anything to do with the players' helmets.* Now, I don't want to sound shallow and give you the impression that I ended things because he didn't like sports. However, I DID fall for him based on that "mutual" love of sports. So finding out the truth kinda killed it for me. My second Mirage was in 2010 when I became engaged to someone who pretended to be independent, secure and a non-smoker. It took about 6 months for him to show me that none of that was true (well, I figured out the smoking part after 2 weeks). If he had kept up his charade for another 6 months, I would've married one of the most insecure and jealous men I had ever met. Major bullet dodged. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So that was a summary of the most prevalent dates you may encounter as a single man/woman in the crazy dating world. I'm sure these categories can apply to women as well, but they're obviously based on my experiences with the male species. The first step to a happy and successful dating life (other than just miraculously not coming into contact with the d-bags) is to identify who NOT to date. As you can see, I've already done the work for you. Lucky me. And you're welcome. </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">:-)</span>Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-50072567807792483672013-02-11T06:28:00.000-06:002013-02-12T16:00:42.074-06:00Run, Mommy, Run: Part IVFor Part I <a href="http://skidmarksandpushupbras.blogspot.com/2012/09/run-mommy-run-part-i.html" target="_blank">CLICK HERE</a>. Part II <a href="http://skidmarksandpushupbras.blogspot.com/2012/09/run-mommy-run-part-ii.html" target="_blank">CLICK HERE</a>. Part III<a href="http://skidmarksandpushupbras.blogspot.com/2012/09/run-mommy-run-part-iii.html" target="_blank"> CLICK HERE</a>.<br />
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October 27, 2012 - Trek-or-Treat 5k, Allen, TX<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I had finally found my groove again for the September race and was feeling good and training consistently. I was excited for my last 3 races of the year and was confident that I could PR before the end of the year. I was especially excited about the upcoming October race because it was my 2nd Halloween race, which meant another reason to wear a tutu (not that I need a reason...I'd rock a tutu at Walmart if someone dared me to.) My race costume this year (chosen by a fb vote) was going to be Batgirl and I was super pumped to wear it. </div><br />
But then a wrench was thrown into my training schedule...in the form of a 7 month old baby boy. On October 9, I temporarily became a mommy of two when Mason arrived. For the first time in 6 1/2 years, I was changing diapers and walking the halls all night with a very unhappy baby. And seeing as how I could barely manage to find the time or energy to put a bra on before walking out the door in the morning, sticking to a training schedule was pushed to the back of my mind. I was so scatterbrained and exhausted and disoriented those first several weeks that it became a joke between me and the nanny of my first patients of the day to figure out what Becca had forgotten to do before leaving home in the morning. Most days it was no makeup (not good for a pasty white girl like myself) or forgetting my coffee (dangerous). On days where I looked semi-put-together, she'd happily say, "You look refreshed today!", before I would inform her that I hadn't put deodorant on. Or brushed my teeth. By the time my days were over, running was the furthest from my mind and evenings were instead spent trying to soothe an angry baby who seemed to despise me because I wasn't his mommy. Most nights I went to bed with peas in my hair and slept in 20-30 minute spurts between screaming fits that lasted all night. <br />
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So, needless to say, I wasn't prepared for my October race. So what do I do when I'm not prepared for a race? Make up an excuse why walking it is a much better option. This time I used Mason and Isaac as my excuses. I can't run a 10:00 mile with a 21-pound baby in a stroller. Ok let's face it, I can't run a 10:00 mile anytime, but he made it particularly difficult. So I decided that we would ALL run in costume and I'd invite my friend Priscilla to run it with us. She had done a few with me in the past and had just recently come back to town. So what better way to spend some QT together and catch up? Our goal was to have no goal. Just take our time and walk. We'd get there when we got there. And that's exactly what we did. For 51 long minutes. 51:34 to be exact. My slowest 5k ever, but still one of the best. <br />
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It was the first painfully cold day of the season (35*), so I decided to wear black running pants under my tutu instead of the short shorts from last year's tutu outfit. Isaac was a ninja (with a face mask to block the cold air), Mason was an elephant and Priscilla just went as her beautiful self. Occasionally, we would run for 30 second spurts but the rest of the time we just walked, talked and took turns pushing Mason's stroller. He slept the entire time so I felt like I was getting a much needed break, even if it was while walking 3.1 miles in the freezing cold. Our slow stroll was holding Isaac back so I finally let him run ahead of us for a while. We lost track of him and when I asked a race volunteer if he had seen him, he said, "Oh, the ninja? He zoomed past here a long time ago." Isaac loves to run as it is, but he's very much like his mama in the sense that wearing a cool outfit gives him a ton more energy during a race. <br />
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</div>We finally caught sight of him and called him back so that we could run across the finish line together as we've done at every other race. Priscilla ran ahead so she could take a picture of us crossing the finish line as a family. Celebratory meal: IHOP pancakes. <br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">November 30, 2012 - Santa Scurry, Keller, TX</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I had very few options for my November race because I was going to be in Michigan for 9 days over Thanksgiving. There was one local race the weekend before my trip but it gave me all of 9 days to train for it. So I ended up deciding to cut it very close by choosing a race at 8pm on the very last day of the month and just crossed my fingers that I didn't get sick, injured or have my car break down on the way to the race. I was so close to the end of my resolution year that I didn't want to screw it up now. </div><br />
I managed to make it to the gym a few times during the week before my vacation so I was able to get a few runs in. Then, while on vacation, I decided to run at the beach, something I had always wanted to do. It was fricken cold! Not only was it Michigan winter but it's very windy at the beach. I bundled up and hoped for the best. I don't know if it was the energy I got from running at one of my favorite places or just wanting to get it over with so I could feel my numb legs and butt again, but I did very well. I broke some records in terms of speed and distance and felt awesome afterwards. If I could've felt my face, I would've been smiling from ear to ear. <br />
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When I got back from vacation, I did one last run at the gym and set my race goal at 38:00. Not my best time but definitely far from my worst. The race was in Keller, about 45 min away, so I left the boys with my friend and another friend drove me to my race to cheer me on. The Santa shirts they gave the runners were pretty sweet, but I was a little jealous of the reindeer antlers and Christmas lights some of the other runners were wearing. <br />
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This was my 2nd nighttime race and I was so excited. I don't know what it is about night races but they give me an adrenaline rush. My fastest race to date (36:08) had been a night race. Maybe it's the lights or the cooler weather, but I love every moment of it. I had also just revamped my 5k playlist on my iPod and was ready to test it out to see if it kept me motivated. Music is a key player in my runs. If I don't have any music, it's torture. If I have bad race music choices, I get tired and lazy. People say you can tell a lot about a person by their playlist, but I'm not sure what my new playlist says about me. I have everything from Drunk on You by Luke Bryan to Face the Pain by Stemm to Courageous by Casting Crowns to Scream by Usher. So I guess that makes me a little bit country, little bit hardcore, God-lovin' with a side of dirrrtay girl. (Personally, I think this makes me a great catch.) <br />
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I had a ton of energy throughout 80% of this race. I did more running than walking and when I would run, I was moving at around a 9:00 mile pace. The only downfall was that it was in an area with a poor GPS signal. I am obsessed with my Runtastic app during races because I'm able to keep track of my time and my distance. When I'm running out of steam at the end of a race, I NEED to be able to look at the app and see that I'm only a half-mile from the finish line. But as a result of the poor signal, it wasn't accurately tracking my distance or pace. For example, when I passed the 2-mile marker, the app told me I had only gone 0.9 miles and my pace was like a 17-min mile or something. So I had to take a few deep breaths and get out of my head if I wanted to finish this race. I had always been told that finishing a race was 90% mental and 10% physical (or something like that). I had always thought that was crap because I was positive my badonkadonk butt had contributed to a good 70% of my running struggles. But when my GPS wasn't working during this race and I had a brief panic attack, I realized that it really IS mental. So I turned off the app, switched my iPod to Courageous and focused on the finish line. <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">As I rounded the final turn and saw the finish line clock, I really couldn't believe what I was seeing. Not only was I going to beat the goal I had set for myself for this race, but I was also about to PR for the first time in 8 months. I crossed the finish line in 35:01, 1:07 faster than my previous fastest race. My friend was trying to talk to me and congratulate me but I just sat on the ground and held up my hand to say, "Give me a minute." I had to catch my breath, but I was also a little emotional and didn't trust myself to talk without busting into an ugly cry. Since it was so late by the time the race got done and we drove back home from Keller, my celebratory "meal" was McDonald's hot chocolate, but I was perfectly happy with that. :)</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> Isaac---------></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> (Race #5)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I did it!! :) I made it to my final race of 2012 and successfully completed my New Year's resolution to run one 5k per month for the entire year. This particular race wasn't my original plan for my final race of the year. Several months ago, I decided that I was going to compete in my first obstacle course race, so I registered for the Run For Your Lives 5k in Austin, an obstacle course race where zombies chase you the entire time and try to steal your flags. This was the plan all the way up to 20 hours before the race when I promptly changed my mind and didn't go. I had done a TON of traveling over the past month. I had driven to and from MI for Thanksgiving, I still wasn't sleeping well at night because Mason was always sick, and I had just gotten back from a 4-day cruise to Cozumel (8-hour drive to and from New Orleans). I was just drained. I had no energy left and no patience left to travel the 5 or so hours to Austin. It was only Dec 15 so I just figured that I could choose another race between then and Dec. 31. Little did I know that things would NOT go as planned and I would contract the Plague of 2012...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Around December 18, I started feeling really sick. Mason had contracted RSV at daycare and it is highly contagious. I waited about 5 days to go to the doctor, and by the time I went in, I had strep, bronchitis, laryngitis, pink eye, and impetigo (extremely painful bacterial infection that shows up as sores on your face). I was a MESS. I could barely function well enough to take care of 2 children let alone run a race, so I held out hope that I would get better by December 31. Didn't happen. This illness lasted for almost 4 weeks (I was off work from December 19 through January 8). But I wasn't about to let 11 months of a successful resolution year go down the tubes because of it, so I chose one of the last races of the year (and cheapest - $10) and just went for it. Mason was with his parents that weekend so it was just Isaac and I. We stayed in a hotel near the race the night before since it was in Arlington (45+ minutes away). Not only did I need that extra sleep, but Isaac and I desperately needed some fun QT together. We ordered pizza and watched cartoons before going to sleep early. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The next morning was FRIGID. Painfully frigid: 28*. We both bundled up as well as we could and I covered my face and head with a few layers. I had NO voice so I had to whisper to the race officials when we picked up our bibs. They looked at me like I was a crazy person when I told them that I was about to complete a race in freezing temps with strep and bronchitis. But it had to be done. Nothing was going to stop me at this point. Stubborn? Maybe a little. Obviously my only goal was to simply finish this race, preferably not last. I've never been last in any of my races. Second-to-last, yes. Last, no way, and I wasn't about to let it happen this time. This was a very small race - only about 70 people - so you were either fast or walking. I wanted to stay somewhere in the middle. We ran at a pretty good pace for the first 1/3 mile and put some distance between us and about 8 people who were walking. I quickly realized that I wasn't going to be running much. My lungs were heavy and I was wheezing. My mouth was covered so I could keep from breathing in frozen air, but it was almost just as bad to breathe in the humid air inside my neck gaiter. Isaac did a run-walk combo and I walked (unless I was passing a race photographer, at which point I would run at full speed so my race picture would look less pathetic).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb15PKDLOMRBU0NzalVgvUq9lHlTHUvFOpQgCu041ZgAd6eLA1KDRwOSZqSKI2vD4Ef8jQQvjzNaCfk1x-JWLdkgtasLliNpaAXMZlA5eAgbqEwnfvH6wxhq-3UIVW2SRR3zdmuluTRQU/s1600/Scan_Pic0040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb15PKDLOMRBU0NzalVgvUq9lHlTHUvFOpQgCu041ZgAd6eLA1KDRwOSZqSKI2vD4Ef8jQQvjzNaCfk1x-JWLdkgtasLliNpaAXMZlA5eAgbqEwnfvH6wxhq-3UIVW2SRR3zdmuluTRQU/s320/Scan_Pic0040.jpg" uea="true" width="211" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My little runner. :)</td></tr></tbody></table>It felt like the longest race ever and even Isaac (who had managed to stay healthy throughout all of the illness in our house) just wanted to be done. I tried to make it fun for him so we could just get through it without tears or arguing. I had no energy or voice for arguing and honestly, nothing is more frustrating than trying to yell at or argue with someone who can't understand you anyway. During the last mile, I turned on my iPod and we'd take turns running ahead of the other one and dancing like a weirdo to Justin Bieber (oh, what a mother will do to make her child happy) while the other person caught up. Luckily, we had no witnesses because the runners had long since crossed the finish line and the walkers were a good 30 yards behind us on the trail. I finally crossed the finish line at 47:20 (Isaac was 47:13). I had never been so happy to finish a race, partly because I was frozen and incredibly ill, but mostly because I had completed a huge goal for myself and hadn't given up. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I never stay for the awards ceremonies because, let's face it, I'm not exactly Kara Goucher. But this day, I just needed to sit and rest and rehydrate, so we stuck around. When they had gotten through about half of the awards, we started walking towards our car when I suddenly heard my name. I thought maybe I had left my license on the bib table so I turned around to see the girl holding a medal out to me. I said, "Ummm, huh? What's this for?" She said it was an age-group award. I said, "For Rebecca Macy?!" She looked at her clip board and nodded and said, "Do you want it?" Heck yeah I wanted it! I had just completed the most miserable 5k of my entire life and I won a medal?! Clearly there was a mistake but I took it and got my picture taken.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN7m9oYMLCgcFlQw3ZamP4iTItAuYUvbGWn5v7kHfYMCvwg3bbPjytzwf4SEDD_qIvknmqj99T4wWyYqHYJm-QA6U4RP3-uJ8NySLja6AuGkdYCp7DJy278tBSmudHHeZiSGTz1QN8vCg/s1600/Scan_Pic0039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN7m9oYMLCgcFlQw3ZamP4iTItAuYUvbGWn5v7kHfYMCvwg3bbPjytzwf4SEDD_qIvknmqj99T4wWyYqHYJm-QA6U4RP3-uJ8NySLja6AuGkdYCp7DJy278tBSmudHHeZiSGTz1QN8vCg/s320/Scan_Pic0039.jpg" uea="true" width="208" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;">After I got in my car, I turned the medal over and saw that I had won 3rd place in my age group. My sister was just as confused as I was. "There must've been some slow ass 30 year olds running this race." And later, "Were there 3 people in your age group??" Turns out that there WERE in fact 3 people in my age group...and I won 3rd place. HAHA!! But hey, it was a medal and it'll be a good story to tell someday. "I won 3rd place in my age group....with STREP!" I'll of course leave out the part about coming in 3rd in a group of 3. <br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">So that is the end of my 2012 journey to becoming A Runner. There were a lot of tough times but also a lot of fun times. It started out as a resolution based solely on a fitness goal, but it turned into a journey focused on determination, mental strength and learning about myself and what I am capable of. I'm very proud of my accomplishments and I loved sharing many races with family, friends and most importantly, Isaac. He is my #1 fan. :) Thanks to all of my friends who read my blog and have followed my running adventures over the past 15 races. While I don't have the same resolution this year, I do have a major goal set for 2013. My very first 10k is scheduled for May 4, 2013! The thought of running DOUBLE the distance that I am used to is terrifying, but I know I can do it with a little bit of determination, a lot of training and the suppport of my family and friends. :) </div>Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-46087327520053602872012-09-20T07:04:00.001-05:002012-09-20T07:04:21.194-05:00My Ticking ClockA little over a year ago, the urge to have more children became pretty strong. It figures that it would hit me then since I had just recently stopped dating and had no intention of starting back up again anytime soon. Isaac frequently bugs me about having more children so that he can grow up with siblings, but this urge wasn't necessarily a result of pressure from him. It was really just ME wanting to hold babies again and raise them and watch Isaac finally learn to share his toys. I'd like to think that he doesn't have "only child syndrome" - he isn't spoiled in the sense that he gets everything that he wants. But every once in a while, it is very apparent to me that he's an only child. Not only does he not like to share (his toys OR me), but he doesn't handle conflict with other children well at all because he rarely has to deal with it. Plus, he's almost 7. Ok, I don't like how old that sounds. So let's just say he's 6 1/2. I never thought he'd still be an only child at 6 1/2. (At my house anyway. He has 2 siblings from his dad but doesn't get to "grow up with them".) Or that I'd only have one child at 30. I've always wanted a whole brood of kids. 3 minimum. So here I was at almost 30, desperately wanting more babies and worrying that I was depriving Isaac of growing up with sisters and brothers, and worrying that by the time I found a man good enough to be a daddy and husband and not just a donor, my eggs would be rotten. So I started considering my options. <br />
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There was the one-night stand option. Not really my thing, and given a choice between no baby vs. a raging case of herpes, I'd go with no baby. Option #2 is the sperm bank option. I will confess that this was a very strong possibility for a long time. When I was 27, I told my mom that I wanted to go to a sperm bank if I didn't have more babies by 30. I don't think she took me seriously because her only response was, "Try to get Asian sperm so I can have a cute little Asian grandbaby." This option ended up being a very likely Plan B there for a while. I had my list of pros and cons...<br />
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Pro: Wouldn't have to shave my legs or brush my teeth in order to get knocked up. <br />
Con: Wouldn't have any of the fun that comes along with baby making and I'd never look at a turkey baster in the same way again. <br />
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Pro: No baby daddy issues. Not only would I never meet the father, but I wouldn't have to fight him over visitation and child support.<br />
Con: Being pregnant alone....again. If I have to be pregnant again, I want someone at my beck and call, getting me ice cream and pizza. <br />
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...I bought several books on the topic (this one was my favorite, SO funny): <br />
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...and I talked to my very closest friends and family about it. All of them supported me 100% but were probably thinking I was nuts and hoping it was simply a phase I was going through. It wasn't necessarly a phase because I was seriously considering it, but I did eventually decide that it wasn't the right choice for me or Isaac.<br />
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The third option was adoption. I spent weeks researching agencies and international versus domestic adoptions. The main issues were 1) the cost (25% of your income up to $25,000 for most adoptions) and 2) my single status. Most domestic adoption agencies required that I be married. There were a few countries that didn't require this but the cost was insane. I didn't feel right "buying" a child. I understand legal fees and travel expenses, but to spend money equaling the cost of Isaac's first year of college seemed unreasonable for me as a single mom. <br />
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Around the time that I was considering adoption, I started getting a lot of foster children on my speech therapy caseload. They were sweet little kids who stole my heart and they had wonderful foster families. I got to see them grow and change as they were cared for by their amazing temporary families. I also got to see the pain involved in sending them back to the homes they were removed from. But the happiness that these children brought to their foster families during the time they were with them is what convinced me to make the choice to be a foster parent with the end goal of adoption (adoption via this route is free).<br />
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I started the long, daunting, invasive process back in April of this year. It started with an 18-page application that I decided to type out instead of write. Then I proceeded to close the file without saving it (and no prompt was given to save it!) so I actually did the application TWICE. Next came the 38 hours of training sessions in the armpit of South Dallas (2 hours from my house with traffic), every Tuesday and Thursday nights for 3 weeks, plus two 9-hour sessions on two different Saturdays. Training was eye-opening for many reasons. I took these classes with people who I hope didn't make it through the home study portion, for the sake of future Texas foster children. When we were informed that we couldn't spank foster children, one guy jokingly said, "Just use a bag of oranges! They don't leave a mark!" What?! Who says that in front of people who are in charge of placing kids with you? Crazy fool... And then there was the woman who asked if she was allowed to shower with her foster kids since she had always bathed with her biological children. The room was silent and the trainer's face was priceless when he slowly said, "Umm, no..." Along with the crazies in the classes, we had to watch horrific videos and hear traumatic true stories about children being removed from their homes. I often left class with a lump in my throat from the things I saw and heard. But it just confirmed to me that this was something I needed to do. <br />
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Once the training was done, next came the enormous list of documentation that was required. Check stubs to confirm you met minimum income requirements, home owner's insurance, car insurance, birth certificates, floor plan, pictures of every inch of my house, rabies vaccines for my cats, TB tests for both of us (Isaac was NOT happy), etc, etc... You name it and they needed it. After this was about 90% completed, I had my 2-part home study. The first part was for me and the 2nd part was for Isaac. For my part, the home study lady asked me very invasive, embarassing questions about my personal life. "How often do you have sex? How often do you allow men to spend the night?" I answered them honestly (and considering that I've been single for quite some time, my answers weren't anything close to being scandalous). Unfortunately, I usually have some sort of sarcastic and inappropriate answer in my head when people ask me questions, so I had to control the urge to say them aloud or start cracking up laughing. She didn't appear to be someone who would find humor in my disgusting immaturity. With the interview done and house inspection passed with flying colors, my part of the home study was done. Isaac's part was pretty quick and simple. Just lots of questions like, "Is your mom a good person?" "Does she play with you?" (He had the nerve to say no! Little punk...) But he passed his part, too, and she told me that we were a wonderful family. :)<br />
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It was a very stressful and emotional process, so I chose not to share it with my friends on facebook until I was done with everything. So, SURPRISE! I'm a foster mommy. :) I was officially licensed on Tuesday morning and now it's just a matter of waiting for my first placement (ages 6 weeks to 4 years old, any gender, any ethnicity). I know that I will probably fall in love with the child(ren) placed with us and then have to send them back home, but one day, if it's meant to be, we will get a child who gets to stay and we will be their forever home. <br />
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When I've told various people what I planned to do, I got a lot of "That's awesome!" and "Wow! Congratulations!" responses. But occasionally (from people I didn't know well) I got "Aren't you single though?" Yes, yes I am. And I've spent the last 6 1/2 years raising a little boy almost 100% on my own. Being a single parent is what I know. It's what I do. He's one of the sweetest, smartest, most well-behaved kids I know, so I don't think of this as being a "single parent all over again". I think of it as being a temporary mom to someone who needs me. I'm excited to meet our first foster child and Isaac is excited to be a big brother and, depending on how old the child is, have someone to play with. <br />
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I will probably blog about the child(ren) we get and the whole foster parent experience. Unfortunately, I won't be able to post pictures of him/her on the blog or facebook for safety reasons. But I will gladly email you a picture if you'd like to see whichever cutie we get. It's a new chapter in our lives and I'm nervous and beyond excited! <br />
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Thanks for reading. :)Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-23782905627687729392012-09-18T07:04:00.002-05:002012-09-18T07:04:46.292-05:00Run, Mommy, Run: Part IIIClick<a href="http://skidmarksandpushupbras.blogspot.com/2012/09/run-mommy-run-part-i.html" target="_blank"> <span style="color: red;">HERE</span> </a>for Part I. Click <a href="http://skidmarksandpushupbras.blogspot.com/2012/09/run-mommy-run-part-ii.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">HERE</span></a> for Part II.<br />
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September 15, 2012 - Heroes for Children 5k, Plano, TX<br />
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I have officially been A Runner for a year. This race was a special one for me. This month last year, I was reluctantly registering for the Heroes for Children 5k 2011 and fully expecting to drop dead a mile into the race. I never dreamed that in a year's time, I would be completing my 12th race in as many months. But here I was, back to the HFC race on my favorite flat course for the 2nd year in a row! As you read in Parts I and II, I had hit a wall with my running. I wasn't training consistently, I was indulging in way too many cupcakes and, as a result, it had been 4 months since I had finished a race in under 40:00. I was determined to bust out of my slump for my 12th race. My goals for this race were to 1) beat last year's time (41:56) and 2) finish in under 40:00. <br />
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It was a nice, cool morning and I decided to break my rule of never wearing running shorts again during a race. My thighs like to consume butt-hugger running shorts and I end up finishing the race with my shorts lodged in my uterus. But I decided to give loose running shorts a try and see if they would stay in place. Add in some new polka-dot running socks and I was rarin' to go. My niece ran it with me and she's one of the few people who can pull off the polka-dot-sock-fanny-pack look.<br />
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This race started out much like my best race, the Firefly Run back in March when I finished in 36:08. I had a ton of energy in the beginning and I managed to not only run the first 4 minutes straight without walking (MAJOR for me), but I also finished the first mile in exactly 10:00. There are pros and cons to this. The pro was that I now had an entire 30:00 to finish 2 more miles and still meet both goals. I could practically WALK that! The con was that by finishing that first mile in 10:00, I was almost out of steam. I have a very hard time pacing myself when I run. It's all or nothing with me and I really need to work on this flaw of mine. By mile 2 (23:30), I was slowing down and walking more than running. My legs were REALLY heavy and I had to give myself an angry pep talk ("That baby in the stroller just passed your fat a$$, so get moving!") in order to encourage myself to start running. I checked my RunKeeper app every minute or so to check my time and pace. <br />
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By the 3-mile marker, I had nothing left so I knew I had to save up just enough energy to run across the finish line. I have a rule that it's not ok to walk across the finish line at a race. So no matter how tired I am, I WILL run the last 100 feet or so of every race. I saw my niece waiting for me at the finish line, camera ready, so I mustered up every ounce of energy I had left and started running, fake smile plastered on my face for my finish line picture. <br />
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For the most part, my running shorts behaved. I don't recall having to pick them out of my rear during this race like I did my other running shorts. In fact, I didn't even realize they had crept up until I saw the not-so-flattering 'after' picture.<br />
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Overall, the race was a big success. I met both goals and finished in 38:52! Back under 40:00 and well on my way to climbing completely out of my running slump. Next month: HALLOWEEN RACE!! I let my friends vote on my race costume and, while I would've LOVED to dress up as Troy Polamalu and run with a football, the vote was for Bat Girl! :) See you next time!Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-78595214132269455092012-09-06T16:22:00.003-05:002012-12-12T19:09:35.185-06:00Run, Mommy, Run: Part IIHere is Part II. To go back to Part I, <a href="http://skidmarksandpushupbras.blogspot.com/2012/09/run-mommy-run-part-i.html" target="_blank">click here</a>.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><u><strong>April 21, 2012 – Thrill of the Grill 5k, Plano, TX</strong></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After seeing me cross the finish line at the previous races, Isaac caught the running bug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He begged me for a couple months to let him run a race with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was reluctant at first because he’s so little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worried that he would get trampled or that I’d have to carry him for 3 miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Considering I was having a hard enough time carrying MYSELF across the finish line, the thought of carrying a crying, 40 lb little boy several miles made me nauseous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then my lazy inner self came to the realization that I could fulfill my monthly 5k obligation but take it easy for once, no pressure to beat a time or to run past the cheering sidelines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, if I have a 5 year old with me, of course it’s ok to walk more than half of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I invited my niece to walk/run it with us as an extra motivator for Isaac (and an extra pair of arms to carry him in the event that he got tired.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The morning of the race, he was so excited and I still love to look at the pictures I took that day before and during the race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And much to my surprise, he was a trooper for 2 ½ miles!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He ran, jumped hurdles over the orange cones and chatted away the entire time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Talking and running simultaneously just doesn’t happen with me, so I was impressed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s all I can do to preserve enough oxygen to stay alive, but he didn't seem to struggle at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We probably walked half and ran half.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the 2 ½ mile mark (which was UPHILL), he decided he was done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I carried him about 20 steps and then my niece took over for an entire ½ mile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we got to the last leg before the finish line, he was ready to get down and he took off running.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We finished the race together in 45:52, not too shabby for a 5 year old’s first 5k.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was a proud mommy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>May 12, 2012 – Head for the Cure 5k, Plano, TX<o:p></o:p></u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, between my awesome March race and this one, I got lazy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t train much for the April race because I knew I would be walking most of it with Isaac and I used that as an excuse not to run before work or go to the gym.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or eat healthy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pretty much fell off the wagon in those 6 or so weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think my March PR (personal record) was due to 1) consistent training and 2) weight loss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a whole lot easier to lift yourself off the ground and gain speed when your butt isn’t weighing you down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which explains my awful run times in the beginning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As my sister told me once, I thought I was running back in those early running days but in reality, I basically walked with a hop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was booty-licious, minus the –licious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So anyway, this May morning was ridiculously humid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could feel it sticking in my lungs long before the race started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was tired from lack of training and I had probably gained 5 lbs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Due to these things, my goal wasn’t to beat my fastest time (36:08) but come close to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So 36:-something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if it was 36:59.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This race sucked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The air was thick and my legs felt like lead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was one of those days when I wished I could pull off wearing loose running shorts or even some bun huggers with a sports bra.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’m far from the point of running without jiggling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So instead I ran in my typical running gear of a race-issued t-shirt and yoga capris.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best word I can give you for a humid 5k without providing a TMI description is…swampy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, that about sums it up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Super swampy and uncomfortable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was pretty mad at myself the entire race because I knew I had let myself lose the progress I had made.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I reached the last 20 yards of the race, I saw familiar faces on the sidelines cheering me on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before the race, I had seen my former Team In Training coaches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had attempted to train with TNT for a half-marathon in late 2009 but ended up with a severe case of tendinitis in my ankle and could barely walk for 2 months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I had quit TNT and hadn’t seen them since.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They recognized me when I said hi and had talked to me (tried anyway) during the first part of the race, but I still had yet to conquer the task of running-breathing-talking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So at the finish line, they cheered for me and I (surprisingly) survived the race and finished in 37:45.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not horrible, but the first race since I started that I hadn’t met a goal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blueberry pancakes and bacon ended up being my eat-my-emotions meal rather than a celebratory one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>June 23, 2012 – Seaway Run, Muskegon, MI<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My hometown race!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had wanted to run this race for years but was never a runner until now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I planned my vacation to MI around this race and was so excited to run it as a family – me, mom, dad, little brother Hunter and of course Isaac (his SECOND race!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since the last race, I had continued to be lazy with lazy-fat-girl mentality and told myself, “It’ll be cold there in the morning so no hot and humid run to worry about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You got this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plus, why diet now when you know you’ll be eating like a hog during vacation anyway?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, this conversation actually played in my head often during those weeks before my vacation so I could justify my laziness to myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My goal was again to get in the 36:00 range.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had missed it by 46 seconds in May and it was crazy humid, so surely I could cut those 46 seconds in 55* temps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I told my parents (who had never done a race and don’t run at all) that I was going to run ahead and try to beat my time, so keep an eye on Isaac and I’ll wait for them at the finish line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ha!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hahaha!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did NOT go as planned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First off, ¼ mile into the race was a steep hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can handle a short hill here and there, especially if I encounter it once I’ve found my groove, but not at the BEGINNING of the race!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used up all of my energy by the time I got to the top of that miserable thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had very little left to go on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then the stomach cramps started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dreaded runners cramps, the kind where you know you’re a matter of minutes away from finding a bush and dropping trou. At one point I started sprinting out of pure desperation, but then felt a sharp pain in my groin area so I had to walk again. I needed something to take my mind off the pain so I texted back and forth with Isaac’s dad, who had come to the race to see Isaac cross the finish line. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He was also the designated picture-taker so I needed to update him on where I was so he was ready with my camera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like to have a finish-line picture at each race, even though I rarely share them with others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not cute in a full sprint, particularly at the end of a race when I look like I’m either going to vomit or stroke out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After I realized how totally far off I was going to be from meeting my goal, my new goal became simple: beat my parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My 55 year old mother who had probably never run before and my 60 year old dad who probably hadn’t run since Air Force boot camp 42 years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I lost to them, I’d never live it down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So at the risk of further pulling my groin and/or filling my pants, I took off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finished in 41:17, not far off my time from my VERY FIRST race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ugh, I was so disappointed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And to add serious insult to injury, my little munchkin (6) and little brother (10) finished in 42:12, less than a minute behind me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My parents?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>7 seconds after that…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank goodness for post-race Toast n’ Jams, one of the best eat-my-emotions breakfasts I’ve ever had.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>July 21, 2012 – Christmas in July 5k, McKinney, TX</u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This was my post-vacation race, so I had very little motivation, an extra 5-8 lbs added onto my butt from all of the ice cream I had consumed on vacation and very little training (ok, none) on vacation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only time I ran during my vacation to MI was during the June race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Isaac wanted to run another one (I think he’s hooked!) so I decided to give myself yet another break and have another leisurely race with my munchkin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, it was in the middle of a heat wave, so by the time the race began at 8am, it was 92*.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a lot of crying and whimpering and complaining going on for the entire 3.1 miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Isaac wasn’t very happy either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted to be carried but I convinced him to just walk as slow as he needed to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every once in a while he’d get a second wind and take off running far ahead of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was about the time that I realized that he shares his mom’s poor running form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poor kid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We finished a lot faster than I expected: 43:29, which was 2 ½ minutes faster than his first race with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the race, we both won Chick-fil-A gift cards and I let him believe it was because we had won.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hey, whatever makes him happy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>August 25, 2012 – Hustle for Health 5k, Sherman, TX</u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At this point, it had been 5 months since I had met a goal and 3 m</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">onths since I had finished in under 40:00, so I had high hopes for this one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had just joined a new health club and had been doing treadmill runs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love treadmills because they’re so much easier for me than running outside, but they definitely don’t prepare you fully for an outdoor race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I figured a few treadmill runs were better than nothing at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember the huge hill from the beginning of my June race?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Multiply that by 3 and that is what the beginning of THIS race looked like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Row.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who chose this course?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it was humid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t believe that I once complained about running in cold air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After running this spring and summer in TX humidity and heat, I can’t WAIT for cold weather races again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After I managed to climb the 3 mountains, I set my sights on a semi-slow guy running near me and decided that I’d just try to keep up with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked about my age and in decent shape but he was pretty slow (about my speed) so at least if I finished near him, I wouldn’t feel quite so bad about myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a hard time with my 1:1 plan (walk 1 minute, run 1 minute).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Experienced runners or non-runners may think, “1 minute?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s nothing!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when you’re already tired and the humidity is weighing you down, 1 minute of running feels like an hour. I dream of the the day when I can run several minutes in a row.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t meet my sub-40:00 goal; I finished in 41:32.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank goodness Cracker Barrel was on my post-race agenda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Due to the ongoing heat wave and ridiculous humidity, I decided not to let Isaac run this one with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, I signed him up to run the 1k fun run with my niece.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did awesome!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had started raining right before they started so that helped a little with the heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Out of about 25 or so kids, Isaac finished 5<sup>th</sup> or 6<sup>th</sup>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so proud of him!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope running becomes something that he loves to do and that he continues to do it so that he never has to struggle like his mom did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, those have been my races so far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This month, I will run my 12<sup>th</sup> race, the 9<sup>th</sup> of 2012, when I run the Heroes for Children 5k for my 2<sup>nd</sup> year in a row.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m starting to get back on track in terms of how I eat and getting some training runs in, but it’s hard to say how well I’ll do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think my goal will probably be to simply beat last years’ time, which I’m positive I can do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As much as I love to eat my emotions, I’d rather eat my pancakes and bacon in celebration of another successfully completed race. </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for reading about my journey thus far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s been exciting, exhausting, painful, liberating and just awesome, even on not-so-awesome days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll update you on the 4 remaining races of 2012 as they happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p><a href="http://skidmarksandpushupbras.blogspot.com/2012/09/run-mommy-run-part-iii.html" target="_blank">Click here to go to Part III</a></o:p></span></div>
Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-525211945368078392012-09-06T16:19:00.001-05:002012-09-06T18:45:06.924-05:00Run, Mommy, Run: Part I<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hard to believe I’m almost ¾ of the way through my<span style="color: red;"> </span><a href="http://skidmarksandpushupbras.blogspot.com/2011/11/big-3-0.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">‘30’ year</span></a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seems like just yesterday that I was mourning the loss of my youth, <a href="http://skidmarksandpushupbras.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2012-01-01T00:00:00-06:00&updated-max=2013-01-01T00:00:00-06:00&max-results=1" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">drinking wine at 2pm</span></a> to numb the dread I was feeling about my impending birthday and preparing myself for fat pants and plummeting boobs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remarkably, it hasn’t been so bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It really just feels like every other year, except I DO feel slightly wiser, although some would disagree that I actually am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the most part, 2012 has been good to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been content in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve made important decisions for ME and for Isaac without worrying so much about the opinions of others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And best of all, I’ve relaxed, physically and mentally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve read novels, spent entire days in my pajamas on the couch with Isaac, watching Transformers marathons and Rangers games, and I've gone to bed at 7pm just because I wanted to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some may call this being anti-social or a “hermit”, as I’ve been called before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I call it prioritizing the little things in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve also managed, for the first time EVER, to stick to my New Years/’30’ year resolution which was to run a race every month for all of 2012.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has been quite the journey and I wanted to document my experience so I’d always remember it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For any of you following my races on fb, you’ve been able to see some pictures and read some brief summaries of the races so far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But here is the inside scoop on each race. I've split it between 2 different posts because it ended up being super long. This is Part I:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>September 25, 2011 – Heroes for Children 5k, Plano, TX<o:p></o:p></u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My first race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something I had always dreamed about doing but never had the courage to actually register for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I HATED running.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was torture for me due to my Phoebe Buffay running form that plagued me with running injuries from debilitating shin splints to tendinitis to runner’s knee. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So why, do you ask, did I register for this race?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two words: guilt trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turns out, 12 months prior to this, while attending this same race to watch my sister run it, I had made a promise that I would train for the next one and run it with her and her family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the time, I thought, “Sure, why not?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hate to run but I have 12 long months to train.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah…..that year FLEW by and I ran maybe three times during that year, each time resulting in collapsed lungs (well, not really but it sure felt like it), leg pain and utter exhaustion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It probably didn’t help that it was 92* outside at 10pm when I would run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So anyway, 2 weeks before the 2011 race, my sister calls me and asks if I’ve registered for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tell her no, that I can’t run it because I didn’t train enough and I won’t survive it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said, “Well, you told me last year that you would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You never will if you don’t register for this one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So hang up the phone and do it.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well ok…what do I say to that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed to get off my extra-wide bottom and make an effort or I never would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That gave me 2 weeks to mentally prepare myself for the race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew I wasn’t going to run much of it, if any.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So my goal for the first race was simple: Survive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was brutal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was painful and I was exhausted after the first half mile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt like I was hauling bricks for 3.1 miles (it was actually my heavy bottom).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every moment of this race sucked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I take that back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I enjoyed the water stations because it gave me an excuse to stop without looking like I was giving up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the best part about it was the finish line, and not just because it was the light at the end of the dark, sweaty, nauseous, miserable tunnel that was the 5k.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the adrenaline rush I got by seeing the finish line and hearing the screams of the people who cheer for you for the last 0.1 mile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank goodness for those wonderful people and the people who cheer you on from the sidelines throughout the race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My pride wouldn’t allow me to walk past a lot of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to run to avoid looking pitiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If not for them, it may have taken me an hour to finish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But instead, it took me 41:56, significantly faster than I ever imagined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From then, I was hooked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>October 30, 2011 – Halloween Hustle 5k, McKinney, TX<o:p></o:p></u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After the Heroes for Children race, I wanted more of the adrenaline rush.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t wait to run my next race, try to beat my time and become “a runner”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt like I couldn’t really claim that title as A Runner until I did another (100% voluntary) race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I registered for the Halloween Hustle because it was soon after the HFC race and I didn’t want to have time to get lazier and change my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One way I pumped myself up for it was by deciding to run the race in costume.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What better way to get excited for a race than to make my own orange tutu and run as “candy corn”?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, if I have to spend 40+ minutes in pure hell, gasping for air and feeling sweat drip down my legs, I might as well look cute doing it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not going to lie, this one was tough, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was 40* and windy that morning so my legs were numb beneath my tutu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was also on a miserable course with a lot of hills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My goal: beat my previous time of 41:56.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And survive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was my first experience with running in the cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of my other runs had been miserably hot so I didn’t know what to expect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To give you a visual, have you ever accidentally swallowed an ice cube whole and, unable to do anything about it, had to feel it in your esophagus while it slooooowly melts?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, that about sums it up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Painful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While running this race, I spent all of my time adjusting my tutu so it didn’t fall off, pulling my shorts out of my crotch and trying to pull my shirt up over my mouth so I could thaw my lungs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I finally crossed the finish line at 41:51 (I beat my time by 5 seconds!), I was frozen and could barely talk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best part about finishing THIS race was what Isaac said to me when I crossed the finish line: “Mom, you did so good!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re the LAST ONE!!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the record, I was the second to last one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only person who finished after me was a guy running the race with his little boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So thanks to that kid for slowing down daddy so I didn’t have to be last!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>December 10, 2011 – Great Santa Run, Plano TX</u></strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What’s better than running a race in a Santa suit?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anything…..seriously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t get me wrong, the group of therapists who ran the race were rockin’ those Santa suits and had a great time taking pictures before the race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But running in them was a different story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The runners who registered early got the traditional suits that are made of soft, roomy material.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rest of us got suits made of scratchy felt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ghetto Santas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I moved, the material pulled apart and left an open space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lucky for me (and anyone running behind me), I wore my black running shorts under the pants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Otherwise, I would’ve looked like I was wearing Santa chaps by the end of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This race was tough (are you sensing a theme?)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only was it cold and difficult to run in Santa suits, I also experienced shin pain from the get-go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was before I bought decent running shoes, so I had been running in too-small New Balance shoes since before my first race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The wear and tear on my legs decided to catch up to me when I started this race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dodged 2,000 Santas and tried to keep up with my friend Julie (who finished 13:00 before me! HA!) and tried to ignore my screaming legs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Goal for this race: beat my time again and limit the amount of frigid air I inhaled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finished in approximately 40:23 (beating another record!) and managed to breath in much less icy air this time around thanks to my Santa beard that was pulled over my mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That night, as I sat at my friend’s house with bags of ice on my shins and a cup of strong coffee, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>3 months prior to this, I was avoiding races (and running in general) like the plague.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I had just completed my THIRD race!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That feeling made the shin splints much more bearable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was around this time that I decided that I would continue running these races and hold myself accountable by making it my New Year’s resolution: One race per month for all of 2012.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>January 22, 2012 – Resolution Run, McKinney TX</u></strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Back to the dreaded hilly course in McKinney.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this time I was armed with the coolest neon argyle socks and my brand new Brooks PureCadence shoes that I had bought myself as a 30<sup>th</sup> birthday gift.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like I said before, misery is much more tolerable when you look cute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weather was still cool but not so frigid that ice crystals were forming in my nose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was 55*, which is now my favorite running temperature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it was WINDY!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Running in wind is almost as bad as running in freezing temps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I honestly don’t recall much of this race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I mentally checked out after the first of several hills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My only goal was to beat my last race time, which I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finished my first sub-40:00 race in 39:16.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was shocked that I finished in under 40:00 because again, I had spent a lot of running time pulling my shorts out of my rear as well as fighting 30mph wind gusts that were attempting to blow me back to the starting line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This race would be the last time I would wear my running shorts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just don’t have the skinny thighs that allow my shorts to stay in place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mine try to eat them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>February 18, 2012 – Generational Equality Cupid Dash, Plano, TX</u></strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This was a cold, rainy morning but I had finally discovered, thanks to my sister, a lifesaver (or lung-saver) – a neck gaiter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s this wonderful, fleece contraption that goes around your neck and can be pulled up over your face as you run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Way easier than trying to keep your t-shirt over your nose as you run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, neck gaiter in place, I arrived at the race super excited to try to beat yet another personal best time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then….I saw my niece and friend arrive in the best Valentine’s race outfits that they failed to tell me about ahead of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seriously?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While they were running the race in awesome socks and pink tutus (tutus!), I was running in boring yoga pants and a t-shirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although, the t-shirt was one I had custom made and was pretty clever, I must say. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Since this was a Valentine’s race, what better way to start the race than to watch a marriage proposal happen live?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a single, former 2-time proposee (is that a word?), I had finally found the ONE thing that made me think, “I’d rather be running 3.1 miles than be standing here right now.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There should be a marriage proposal before every race…it would pump me up to get the thing started so I can get out of there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I unintentionally said aloud, “Ugh, really?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Come on….”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My niece looked at me, smiled and said, “Bitter?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, after the crying girl said yes to her new fiancé (*gag*), the race began.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did very well (for me anyway) during this race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t get me wrong, I was still miserable after the first mile, but it was on my favorite, mostly flat course and I had good music to get me through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I beat my time by a landslide: 37:40, an entire 1:36 faster than my previous race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We celebrated with blueberry pancakes and bacon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a good day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>March 31, 2012 – Firefly Run, Plano, TX</u></strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Best.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only was it a nighttime race, which meant not having to get up at 5:30am like most races, it was a glow-in-the-dark race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I LOVE themed races and this one took the cake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My niece ran it with me and we decorated ourselves with glow-in-the dark paint, glow sticks and glow-in-the dark tape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was 82* that night but not humid yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before the race, the participants hung out on the lawn, dancing and just hanging out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> For the first time, I didn't have race jitters.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There were 5 THOUSAND people at this race due to its popularity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought for sure I would have a very slow finish time because of having to dodge people left and right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the adrenaline was pumping like crazy during this race and I finished my first mile in 10:00.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t completed a 10:00 mile since I was, like, 12!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to walk every couple of minutes, but when I would run, I could tell I was booking it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks to my RunKeeper app on my phone, I was able to see that I was running an 8-minute mile when I was at full speed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Crazy fast for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I got close to the finish line and could see the clock in the distance, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It said 35:30.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seeing that time made me forget all about my lungs on the verge of collapse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ran as fast I could for the last part of the race and finished in 36:08!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another 1:32 off my personal best, which meant another celebratory post-race meal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://skidmarksandpushupbras.blogspot.com/2012/09/run-mommy-run-part-ii.html" target="_blank">Click here for Part II.</a></div>
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Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-29976946086348538842012-02-05T23:06:00.002-06:002012-02-05T23:12:31.769-06:00ContentmentThe big 3-0 has arrived and I've gotta say, it's not nearly as bad as I was anticipating. The days leading up to The Big Day were tough. I had my final breakdown on December 14 at approximately 2:00 in the afternoon when I drove home from work, opened a bottle of sweet red wine and drank half of it (straight from the bottle) as I sat alone in my front room. I vaguely recall texting my friend and asking her if this was "rock bottom". An hour later, I corked my wine bottle, put my big girl pants on and came to terms with the end of my 20s. <br />
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In my blog from November about my feelings on <a href="http://skidmarksandpushupbras.blogspot.com/2011/11/big-3-0.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">turning 30</span></a>, you may recall my ridiculous fears I had about that huge milestone: uterus and other various parts drying up and falling out, mom jeans, 50 lb weight gain... Turns out that when I woke up on my birthday (and every day since), my boobs were still in place and if anything, my muffin top is shrinking, so my jeans can remain below my belly button for now. Whew!<br />
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That said, something interesting DID in fact happen once I entered my 30s. I became perfectly content with my life as it is. I suppose the process of becoming content began about 6 months prior to my birthday. I had put dating on hold, deleted my online dating profile for good, and felt good about just being single for a while. And I had accepted that, although I wasn't married, I had accomplished a lot in my 20s, including having a little boy who changed my life, starting a darn good career, and buying our first home - on my own! <br />
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So what's the problem with being 100% content, you ask? I've become set in my ways and completely comfortable with my life as a single woman and mom to the point that the thought of changing anything causes a feeling of dread to wash over me. And the thought of making an effort to be dateable just makes me sleepy. My thought patterns regarding a dating life have changed significantly since last year, as demonstrated below:<br />
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29: I wish I had a date.<br />
30: Ugh, I don't want to pay a babysitter $20 so I can go have a mediocre conversation with someone who will end up being a waste of $20. Unless I get Red Lobster. And dessert....the kind that doesn't require me to shave anything.<br />
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29: I wish I had someone to cuddle with.<br />
30: I don't want to shave anything.<br />
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29: Drinking wine alone just isn't the same.<br />
30: I'm glad I don't have to share this with anyone.<br />
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29: I wish I had someone to look sexy for.<br />
30: Fuzzy socks are awesome! And I don't want to shave anything.<br />
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I'm sure now you probably have this image in your mind of a smelly, hairy, bitter woman, but I'm really not any of the above. Don't get me wrong, I still love "love" and romance. I still watch John Cusack movies and secretly wish that he was holding his boom box up to my window, or that I was Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal was my best friend who falls in love with me (say what you want.....that man was a fox in 1989). I just lack the motivation to make a conscious effort to be date-worthy or go out and meet a potential date. I feel like I owe it to any man that I date to be well-groomed, interesting, and selfless. Unfortunately, all of those qualities seem to have slowly disappeared in the past few months. As I told a friend of mine who is just as set in his ways as I am, I don't have the energy or patience to fairly share myself with another person right now or in the near future, aside from Isaac. My worry is that this feeling won't pass. Before, I worried that I'd involuntarily become a lonely cat lady. Now, I worry that I'll not only become that person, but I'll be content even THEN. <br />
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And what a waste of a runner's butt when I'm the only one who will get to see it.Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-4981334740145276332011-11-17T10:32:00.000-06:002011-11-17T10:32:22.952-06:00The Not-So-Glamorous Dating Life of a Single MomWell, I'll admit that my dating life has never been "glamorous", before or after Isaac came along. Before Isaac, I dated my high school sweetheart (and had a short-lived engagement) before we realized that we had nothing in common, except for the fact that we had known each other since before puberty. Then I dated the Marine who got discharged because he did Ecstasy with some Japanese girls in Okinawa. Then came the schmuck who loved himself more than anyone else. And last but not least, Isaac's daddy. Don't even get me started on that. So, even in my early 20's, before pregnancy gave me a muffin top, before diapers and skidmarks and snot, I was a dating failure. <br />
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Fast forward to 5 years later. I'm still terrible at it. Blond-haired, blue-eyed baggage or not. I've done the online dating thing more times than I care to admit in the last 4 or so years. After several "relationships" that stemmed from online dating, including one disastrous engagement (yup, I've been engaged TWICE), I finally gave up and deleted my profile and haven't looked back since. Even when my friend (who shall remain nameless) highly recommended that I try out sugardaddy.com. "You'll be taken care of, and all you have to do is be his arm candy!" Classy. <br />
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Some people have had a lot of success with online dating, like those sickening people on the eHarmony commercials. But I have NOT had that kind of success. Most dating profiles contain at least one piece of information that you will later find out is a flat-out lie. Not all of them; I've dated some honest people and my profile was completely truthful (at least, as far as I recall). But there's the guy who claimed to be a sports fan to woo me, but never wanted to watch hockey.....during the PLAYOFFS! What kind of hockey fan doesn't watch the Stanley Cup Playoffs? Pretend fans who are trying to date hockey fans, that's who. Another guy claimed to be "single" (as in never married), but it turns out I would've been #3. I dodged that bullet! Not to say that all online daters lie, or even that people you meet OFFline always tell the truth. You'll find dishonest people anywhere. I just decided that online dating wasn't the best route for me. <br />
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So where else would a single mom without a social life meet a potential significant other? Work? I work with kids and women. The grocery store? Unless I'm looking smokin' hot that day (which is unlikely since I tend to shop in sweats on a Sunday morning), they'll change their minds and go to the next aisle as soon as they hear my child scream, "YOU NEVER GET ME ANYTHING!!" Starbucks? I gotta say, there are some fine specimen that have been in line in front of me at Starbucks, particularly men in uniform....and they're ALL married. I check. Every time. So instead of bothering to make eye contact with them, I just gaze at their butts and pretend that my sexy, imaginary, police officer hubby is buying me a latte. <br />
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One place that has been suggested to me by many people is the gym. "Hey, at least you'll know they're semi-healthy." This crossed my mind as I pulled up to the gym on Monday. Not that I was man-hunting that day. I was most definitely not on the lookout, but I decided to consider it as an option during my visit. It didn't take me long to realize that if I'm going to attract someone at the gym, I have a 90-second window. That is how long it takes me to walk in the front door, check in, and walk up the stairs to the treadmill. Once I'm on the treadmill, all bets are off. <br />
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Within a few minutes of beginning my 3.1 mile run, I'm no longer even remotely irresistible or date-worthy. I'm panting like a dog in labor, my face is as red as a tomato, and I'm sweating in places I'VE never even seen. Add that to the fact that I've been told that I run like Phoebe Buffay from Friends, I'm pretty sure there is nobody behind me waiting for the opportunity to ask for my number. And if they happen to be able to hear Fresh Beat Band blaring from my headphones (What? It's a catchy song!), I lose another 10 points. At the end of my 5k run, I VERY slowly step off the treadmill so as not to fall on my face. Then I walk to the stationary bike. Not to ride it, but to sit on it for 10 minutes until I can safely walk down the steps to leave. When I stand up, as if I haven't already given you an image of the utmost sexiness, I leave a butt-print of sweat on the bike. Hot. I shakily descend the staircase and walk across the gym towards the front door. I look around at the men working out. Some of them glance in my direction, but in more of a "I hope that girl doesn't have a stroke in front of me" kind of way rather than a "Oooh, she's hot and I want to ask her out" kind of way. My 90-second window has long since passed. <br />
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I guess I'll just have to hope that my sister has another disabling episode of vertigo so that I can escort her to see her handsome ENT. Take one for the team, sis!Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-2836907582997144602011-11-13T20:42:00.000-06:002011-11-13T20:42:10.959-06:00My 17 KidsOnly one is biologically mine. The other 16 belong to other moms and dads but have had such a profound impact on my life that I can't help but to call them "my kids". I never even realized that I called them mine until my actual child pointed it out to me. If he takes my work games out of my car, I say, "Make sure you put that back when you're done. I need it for my kids tomorrow." Or "I'll see my kids until 4:00, then I'll come pick you up at school." On Friday, he said, "Why do you call them your kids? Don't they have moms?" Part of me felt a little guilty. I'd never want him to think that he's not my #1. But I explained to him that they're just kids that I see for work and they're not actually "mine". They do have moms, but I care for them, too.<br />
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While they're not biologically mine, they're not "just a job" to me. They make me smile, they make me laugh, they make my heart break when they're sad or when they struggle. Most of them have brought tears to my eyes at least once. I worry about them when I'm not with them. I worry about them when they're sick. And they also have a tendency to drive me nuts when they don't behave. My child or not, each and every one of them has gotten "the look". <br />
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I have a wide range of kids who are all very unique, and all are special to me for different reasons. There's the 3 year old girl who was born with a laundry list of diagnoses and couldn't say more than one word a little over a year ago, but now tells me she loves me every day before I leave. And her 4 year old brother who has me wrapped around his finger, especially when he serenades me with his little guitar (while wearing only underwear and a cowboy hat). There's the 11 year old girl with cerebral palsy who used to slap me and throw tantrums (and still does on occasion), but more and more often, kisses my arm in apology for her behavior. There are the twin girls who remind me of my sweet nephews and make me laugh when they speak to each other (and fight with each other) in their own 2 year old language. Then there's the 4 year old, beautiful little girl who first came to me as a foster child with an amazing foster family. She's now back with her biological parents, but I still see her every week and worry about her daily. If she's clean and smiling, I tell myself she's OK and try to ignore the urge to grill her about whether or not she's being taken care of. You know the saying, "Don't take your work home with you"? Completely impossible in my line of work. At least for me. <br />
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Kids are literally "my life". They are my focus at work and at home. The sick and disabled children that I see every day make me extremely grateful for my perfectly healthy, smart boy. They teach me to not take anything for granted and to find joy in the little things. This is, by far, the best job I've ever had. Not just because I have an awesome schedule that allows me to work only 3 days a week, but because it's incredibly fun and rewarding. I get to wear comfy clothes, play games, color, have tea parties, get kisses and hugs from sweet kids who love me, and help them to conquer one of the most important skills in their lives: communication. It can't get much better than that. Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6936859600544454190.post-59198935570166524232011-11-10T21:21:00.000-06:002011-11-10T21:21:08.168-06:00The Big 3-0.......one decade closer to middle age, Dirty Thirty, Doomsday, however you prefer to describe the 30-year milestone. Point is, mine is looming in the very near future and I haven't completely prepared myself for it. I'm not quite in crisis mode as I was from age 27 until age 29 1/2, but I'm definitely not buying into the whole "your 30's will be the best decade of your life!" BS, either. How is that even possible? In your 20's, you're young, have great metabolism, and your uterus is still in top working order. Not to mention, it's much more acceptable to be single. At 28, "you still have time". At 30+, it becomes "what's wrong with them?" I'm actually guilty of the latter myself. There have been many times that I've gone on a date with a man over the age of 30 and wondered what disgusting flaw they possess that has prevented them from snagging a wife long before now. Or I make the assumption that they have commitment issues. Now that I am staring 30 in the face, I've questioned the cause(s) of my own single status. Is it my obsessive love of sports and the fact that I can throw out baseball and football terms and stats without missing a beat? Or maybe it's the fact that I'm not the most feminine chick in the world. I've been known to exhibit very un-ladylike behavior, much to my mother's dismay. And the most likely cause of my current single status is the blond-haired, blue-eyed, so-called "baggage" sleeping in the next room. The one who reminds me almost weekly that 1) I'm not married ("Everyone's married....well, except you, mom", and 2) he's waited long enough for a sibling (or a puppy). He prefers a sibling and has made the (very good) argument that with a baby, I wouldn't have to clean up poop in the yard. <br />
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All of that said, I've actually gotten to a place in my life where I'm not stressing over my lack of a husband. Sure, it enters my mind from time to time, mostly after my son reminds me that I'm some kind of lonely cat lady. But the impending doom of my 30th birthday has mostly gotten me all rattled because of the loss of my youth, fear of my 40's a mere decade away, and a ridiculous fear that my health and appearance is suddenly going to plummet on December 16. Is everything going to dry up and fall out? Am I going to gain 50 pounds and wear mom jeans from now on? Maybe I'll buy yet another cat to add to our growing collection. <br />
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These crazy fears of mine (and yes, I do admit that they are absurd) may actually benefit me in the long run. My fear of my whole body falling apart has motivated me to eat better and become more active this year, particularly in the last few months. My goal for age 30 and 2012 is to drop the final 15 pounds and run one race per month. My next race is December 10 and I will be documenting them on the "Run, Mommy, Run" page on this blog. Until then, here's to the last 5 weeks of my 20's. :)Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03133128257176396741noreply@blogger.com1