Throw(further)back Thursday

I am not an easy person to surprise.


I pride myself on my observant qualities and, lacking a firm filter, I have been known to blurt "I knew it!" when faced with a "surprise" situation. (fun, huh?)

The Birthday 2003 Situation was the rare and perfect combo of awesome AND surprise. This makes for a good memory that needs to be shared.


Leading up to that particular Summer, I'd packed on a few pounds. Turns out 20 minutes, per week, of Denise Austin videos isn't a successful weapon against fast food lunches, every day. 


disclaimer 1: to avoid "those" types of comments : I'm naturally blessed with a decent metabolism and figure. "Bigger" for me, may be "smaller" for others...and vice versa. It's all relative.


I kept ignoring it until my boyfriend and I returned from a cruise, and I was checking out the pics we'd taken.

jk. this *was* actually one of the cruise photos, tho! Perfect, no?

 



this was one that gave me pause

 

I started taking walks, increased Denise and attempted to control my french fry binges. (mmmm Checkers!) I mentioned, more than once, that a treadmill would be real handy. Maybe you haven't heard, but Summertime, in Florida, is hot. It was difficult for me to motivate myself to go for long, lonely, hot walks.

 

Have you already figured out that this was me in my pre-runner days?

 

With my birthday on the horizon, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to plan a weekend getaway. My sister, her boyfriend and a couple other friends were going to join my current boyfriend and I for an overnight stay on the beach. This wasn't a common occurence, so I was a bit surprised when the parties involved were reluctant to participate. In the end, though, everyone agreed to split the cost of the hotel room and food.

 

The rest of my family joined us for dinner, before the hotel partying. It was at that time, that they revealed my birthday present:

 

They had all, including my boyfriend gone in, together, and purchased a treadmill for me! My very own exercise machine! It was a really fancy one, too. No expense was spared. As delighted as I was, I felt immediately guilty for having the expense of the weekend tacked onto all the money they'd already spent. :(

 

Nonetheless, we enjoyed ourselves (maybe a little too much?) but had all day Sunday (my actual birthday) to relax and recover, somewhat.

 

My sister and boyfriend told me we were all getting together, again, Sunday night, for a poker game at a friend's house. We generally played, once a week or so (low stakes, lots of fun) so this wasn't unusual. We do, however, have a very cool poker table, so it wasn't terribly common for us to go to a different house to play.

 

That's when the wheels started turning...

 

"There's going to be a surprise party for me, at Joe's house!" I thought. It just made sense. Everything was fitting together too perfectly for it to be anything else. I excitedly ran my errands, worked on my "GASP! For ME?!" face, and arrived back home to get ready to head to the "poker night".

 

When I walked through the living room to put down my bags, it occurred to me as  only slightly odd that every candle in my (vast) collection was burning brightly. Even when I glanced over and saw my boyfriend, one on knee, holding a small box, I thought "this is a really elaborate gesture for a pair of earrings".

 

disclaimer 2: when you've been dating the same person for five years, self-preservation kicks in and tells you that marriage may not actually ever happen, after all.

 

It should be no suprise to anyone that I said "yes" before he even got all words out.

 

In the excited aftermath, it was revealed that the Treadmill gift was just a (very expensive) decoy. He was so gung-ho about surprising me, he hadn't even told my parents what he was planning.

 

Last year, we sold The Infamous Treadmill through Craigslist. I was a little sad to part with it, due to the memories it evoked every time my feet pounded on it. However, I reminded myself that I have a much more amazing souvenir of that night.

that is actually us, in Las Vegas, where we did actually get married. But this isn't from our wedding. Long story, but another photo inclusion that was too perfect to pass up.

 

 

I'll take him, over any gift, anytime. 





 

 

 







Throw Thur

This Throwback Thursday is a recap of my first half-marathon. See how the title only contains half the words? Get it?! More examples of my enviable sense of humor...

I can vividly recall the conversation we had, while walking to my first 5k race. She and I adamantly agreed we had no desire to ever race a distance further than 3.1 miles.

"Well, maaaybe a 10k". I finally conceded.

She half-heartedly agreed, but that was it. That was the ultimate cut-off.

Fast-forward six, whole months 'til I ran my first 10k :

the following month I ran my second 10k

I hate to brag, but impatience and obsession are qualities I have mastered. Why I couldn't be content to run a few 5ks, every couple of months, for a few years is beyond me. It's not even as though I was excelling at that distance and needed more. I just needed more. Now!

My incessant chatter about running and races had fueled and awakened the dormant runner in my dad. He'd run Track as a speedy youth, but had long since retired.

middle row, 3rd from left. you're welcome, dad!!

 

After racing a few 5ks, he had jumped right into the half-marathon distance just a few months later. (thanks, genetics!) While I still had a healthy respect for any distance over 6.2 miles, his excitement and successes were definitely contagious.

 

Then he talked me into trying the running group he'd joined.

 

Turns out Impatient/Obsessive Runner + Like-Minded Locals = Best Thing Ever!

 

Approximately 4 days into this new venture, for me, the half-marathon went from "no way never" to "I must do it. immediately". After a frenzied internet search, I settled on this race. It was about 12 weeks away, so I'd have the perfect amount of time to train. The race was also in the town where I'd grown up and I loved the nostalgia of that. The field wouldn't be enormous and the temperature would be cooler, in Florida. This was it. My, idyllic First Half-Marathon was staring right at me from my moniter.

 

I was sweating and giggling when I submitted the registration, but my husband's calm confidence and support settled my nerves....

 

So much so, that I instantly realized there was no way my impatient little brain could wait 12 weeks for this race. (how many of you saw that coming?)

 

With wild eyes and flying fingers, I submitted another entry for the Daytona Beach 1/2 Marathon. Who needs ridiculous things like training, waiting or common sense?

 

As I've shared, in addition to being impatient, I am also really "thrifty" as well as generally clueless so my preparation and training for the race left a LOT to be desired. However, I did somewhat follow a (free) shortened training plan, so the distance wasn't seeming as impossible to me. With my (less cheap) husband's encouragement, I also bought some calf sleeves (the day before the race) to counteract the effect of the 2 bridge crossings involved in the course. 

 

The husband and boys would be my cheering section. I didn't want to inconvenience the rest of my family for this pre-dawn, longer-than-a-5k, race experience, so I discouraged their attendance and told them all I'd give them a full recap.

 

The (very early) morning of the race, I ate some carbs, drank some gatorade, got sick about 6 times and left the house with my little family.

 

Wait. What? Getting sick so many times that you're left pale, shaking and utterly empty isn't standard race prep? whoops...

 

The race starts on the actual Daytona International Speedway. It's pretty darned cool. The boys were very excited to get to play around on the steep banks, while I tried to not vomit (again) before the start. It was still dark, the first few miles, but the Speedway was all lit up.

 

In my impatience, I went out way too fast, skipped the first few water stops, panicked and was seriously considering quitting less than three miles in. I have never had such a desperate, hopeless horrified feeling, while running.

 

Then I saw the most beautiful thing in the world. My husband, ever thoughtful, had secretly coordinated with the rest of our extended family, to have them all along the course. Every other mile or so, my weary brain recognized people I loved. People who loved me enough to wake up at an ungodly hour, navigate closed-off streets and stand in somewhat sketchy sections of town for a really long time. They held up their handmade posters and made as much noise as they possibly could. Just for me.

 

It was the one and only reason I finished that race.

 

Totally depleted of fuel (1/2 of a GU and 4 sips of water are not enough, I later learned) I crashed many, many times along the course. I found myself walking over the last bridge. Walking was never part of my training. I was so frustrated and disgusted with myself. There was nothing in the entire world that I wanted more than to be DONE with this nightmare.

 

While I should've been relieved to see the final mile marker, I had to hold back a disgusting mixture of dry heaves and tears. There was no way I could run another whole mile. This may sound ridiculously dramatic, but it was real and it was ugly.

 

Then, to my right, I saw my dad. He'd fought and wound his way, purposefully, back to that exact spot and put his running shoes on. He hopped right onto the course and ran beside me.

 

As he talked and joked to distract me, our pace picked up. The desperation tried to creep back in, but my dad's presence and strides kept it at bay. As we rounded back onto the racetrack, I told him, breathlessly, "I would have never made it that last mile, without you." He told me I absolutely would have and hopped back off the track as the finish line came into view.

one & only race photo I've ever bought

 

 

I may have some seriously annoying traits, but I am blessed enough to have a spouse and family that see past all that and love me, still.

 

Thank you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Throwback Thursday II

Last week we took a journey back to learn what a cheap thrifty (thanks, yo momma! ) runner I am. Today's is the Clueless Edition. Sadly, though, it won't feature Alicia Silverstone.

(note to self : it's been too long since you've watched that movie. This needs to be remedied!)

After the fateful day I learned I could actually run a half-mile, without stopping (!!), it became my new, favorite form of exercise. With 2 boys at home, and one of them being an infant, my time was limited.

I know they're way cute. Rest assured, I wasn't running away from them. That would come later.

 



My obsession was strong enough to propel me out the door, each day, though. I possessed zero electronic devices and had absolutely no idea how fast or far I was running.

After the husband's prompting, I finally started driving the distances, after I'd run them, to see how far I'd gone. Sometimes I'd check the clock before I left and after I returned, too. Other than that, I was totally clueless and blissfully happy.

Fast-Forward to a couple of years later. I'd kept up with running, but it had been more sporadic. I now had 3 boys, but they were all fairly self-sufficient, so I was able to get back into it more regularly.

life before Racing Madness began

 

While at a family dinner, my brother-in-law and his wife found out I'd been running at least 3 miles, each time I went out. They'd been committing to running a 5k, each month, usually as a part of  these events. (clueless alert : I had no idea how long a 5k was). Kristi-Anne (we still haven't figured out what to call your spouse's, sibling's spouse) encouraged me to join her for the one she was doing in March 2010. Giddy and breathless at the thought, I jumped online and signed up for it.

 

(by the by, Thrifty Me was disgusted with Clueless Me when I discovered "paper registrations" and the no-fee policy associated with them.)

 

I spent the next few weeks immersing myself in calculated training, informed reading and healthy eating....HAHAHA! This is all about how I was Clueless, remember?

 

I. knew. nothing. of what to expect on race day. I'm pretty sure I ran a couple more times between registration and race morning. Still had no idea of my pace or distance, but I knew I hadn't died or vomited so I felt ready.

 

The night before, in a panic, I realized I had no clue where the race was held, what time to be there, where we should park, etc. (clueless alert : all that information was available to me, online)

 I dragged the oldest out with me to go drive around where I thought the course might be. Feeling ultra-prepared, I drove back home, gorged myself on pizza, washed it down with a beer and passed out.

 

The next morning, I may or may not have eaten, but I did have my coffee. (instinct kicks in at opportune times for me) My nerves and excitement were in full force as I met my family member who is married to my husband's brother (see, that doesn't flow very well, does it?). We parked way too far away and hoofed it over to the race.

The husband and boys (who quickly became the greatest cheering section the racing world has ever known) planned to sleep a bit longer and meet up with us.

 

Luckily, once we arrived to the packet pickup, I had my husband's brother's wife's (nope. not working) racing expertise to guide my clueless self. She taught me all about bibs, safety pins, bag drops and port-a-potties. We picked a mid-pack starting spot and agreed to just run our own race and meet up at the end.

 

I turned on my ipod, complete with big, fuzzy headphones, right at the start. GreenDay's "Welcome to Paradise" propelled my already excited feet.

 

 

 

 I was immediately head-over-heels in love with racing. It took 5 seconds to know this was an experience I wanted to repeat as many times as I possibly could for the rest of my life.

 

I remember seeing a water stop and having no clue if I was supposed to stop and take a drink, or not. Having never drank water during any of my other runs, I passed it up but felt like everyone was staring at me, knowing I was a newbie.

 

As I passed the clock at mile 2, I started to get a bit fatigued. The novelty had worn off and my poor choice of race attire was becoming an issue. (more on that, later) However, I'd set no goals other than to try to run the entire distance and to have fun. So I kept on doing both.

 

I saw my guys, on a corner, and tiredly waved. My husband was trying to rally the littler guys but there were way too many other and more exciting distractions. The oldest yelled at me to "go faster!"

 

The finish line crossing was stress-free. I glanced at the clock but had no idea what the numbers meant. I was surprised when my sweet and fast friend who is also somewhat related to me , via marriage (how about that one?) finished behind me. In her defense, she had pre-fueled the previous night, with a bottle of red wine and wasn't quite at the top of her game.

 

Hugs and waters were passed around between all of us and then it was time to take the antsy boys home.

 

(clueless alert: I had no idea they posted results OR gave out awards for these things)

 

Much later, I discovered I'd actually placed 2nd in my division. In my very first race. (In case the numbers obsessed people are wondering, it was an 8:09/mi avg pace.)

 

I now wish, with all my heart, my first marathon could be like this. (minus the zero training part)

 

Alas, I have read too much :

 



just a small sample, of course

 

Seen too much :

 



 

if you haven't seen this, you must (after you watch "Clueless, of course)

 

And exposed myself to way  too many amazing running peers to have this truly be a "first race" experience.

 

However, as much as I'll always treasure the truly Clueless experience I had with my first race, I wouldn't have changed the way things unfolded, in the years that followed, for the world.

 



my first race. No, no..not the one who has a clue. I'm the one in sweatpants, cotton shirt 80's headphones and cross-trainers. Notice my smile, though! This is right around mile 3.

 

 

 

 



Throwback Thursday

Today's trip down memory lane is about The Time I Ran a Half-Marathon While Carrying a Vodka Bottle. You're probably thinking to yourself "Hmm. What sort of fun riddle is involved with that title?!"
Nope.
This story could not possibly be named anything else.

When I first started running, it was completely solo. My husband has always been athletic, but dislikes running. (ALOT) . We had a few friends and family members that ran, sporadically, at that time. I shudder to think of the clothes and shoes I wore in my early running days. (I'll save those stellar choice stories for another Thursday.)

Why do my shins hurt SO bad?!

For the most part, this was due to a complete lack of knowledge or research, on my part. When I did finally start stalking other runners looking into gear options, the overwhelmingly Cheap-O part of me was horrified. No thank you very much. I will never be spending all of those dollars on my hobby. My husband picked out and bought me my very first, actual running shirt and shorts. Probably he was tired of the "sad for you" looks our neighbors gave us as I ran, cheerily, by. (and he's very generous to me) Questioning my Cheap-Ness? I still posses AND wear those shorts he bought me SEVEN years ago.

Anyway, one day, I learned folks were actually drinking fluids while they ran. You'd think, after running in Florida for long enough, this concept would've occurred to me sooner. I just chalked up my dry cracked lips, dizzy spells and dry heaves to "the joys of running".

After googling "hand-held water bottles" I disgustedly turned off the PC and weighed my hydrating options.

I tried carrying a plastic Zephyrhills water bottle on my next run. I threw it, in utter disgust about 42 seconds in. Carrying a water bottle was definitely not for me.

Next, I tried another option that's too embarrassing to admit. I tried typing it and was unable to finish.

Then, while shopping at the Liquor store, I had my moment of brilliance. There, attached to a giant bottle of vodka, was a teensy, fits-in-the-palm-of-your-hand, matching bottle of vodka! I snatched those beauties off the shelf, hopefully? paid for them, and drove home.

I could. not. WAIT to try out my new water flask! To keep this blog family-friendly, we'll say I dumped the vodka from the tiny bottle down the drain. I'm also mostly sure I rinsed it out, too. Either way, I re-filled it with a shot of water and scurried out the door for a test run.

Fast-forward to my 1st and 2nd half-marathons. While laying out my race gear, the night before, the tiny vodka bottle was lain carefully atop my bibs. Sad, right? Worse, still, is that there are professional photos of me, running a half-marathon, carrying a vodka bottle. Wanna see? (or maybe you just want to feel better about your race photos) Feel free to visit www.marathonfoto.com . Enter bib # 1103 for the Women's Half Marathon St Petersburg 2011.

Sidenote : I know everyone complains about their race photos. Mine are truly, truly frightening. View at your own risk. Also, notice my beet-red face. I was freaking dehydrated!

Soon after this race, my husband bought me a very comfy, very wonderful hand-held water bottle.

Notice a trend?

 

Moral : don't get photographed while racing with your vodka bottle.

 

Additional Moral: don't be cheap.

 

Still thinking my cheapiness might fall under the "somewhat normal" category? Here's a pic I took. Tonight. Yes, it's the original.