Pavement Tri-fecta

I just realized I’ve ran three 5K’s in 3 different states in 2 years.  This last one was rough.  I trained for it, actually ran in the hot and humid late June and July heat and made sure I made it up the steep hill by my house without stopping and not walking it.  I continued doing my own personal training plan which included indoor intervals on the treadmill, then a long run, then just running for endurance.  The heat didn’t get to me, if anything the bugs along the path by the creek did.  I began to see more people along the path, making running after work more comfortable, seeing the same faces and cyclists and that chipmunk that my stepdad released from his imprisonment after snatching peaches off their tree.  My next goal was personal, this was one of the main reasons why I was running and why I was running this event.  Left known only to me and a choice amount of others I had to do this.  It wasn’t about beating my previous times for a personal record it was to prove a point, at least to me.  On this overcast humid day, I set out with a goal.  I had a healthy breakfast of oatmeal and berries, lunch was a spinach and feta cheese omelette, my choice of snack about 90 minutes prior was a banana.  That seemed to work well the last few weeks for me. Hydration was not an issue, I love water.

The event was not well organized, we did not line up by anticipated finish times similar to the previous races I’ve run in. I was stuck in a sea of jogging strollers, walkers and runners of all shapes and sizes.  This was a free for all.  Needless to say my usual mantra of finding someone to pass went out the window until I dodged the traffic in my way.  “Walkers to the right” I yelled before reaching the half mile marker, and I continued to yell to help fellow runners who were coming up behind me.  I was pissed, this was going to screw up my plan.  Somewhere along the way I just gave up the mantra and just ran, I had heavy tunes in my head, a good pace going and then I found my target.  I had to pass this woman in an orange tank top.  I don’t know why she became my victim but it worked, then I had to pass this old man, and so on.  Anyone that started with me I didn’t see along the way, our team was scattered.  As I reached my sprinting point my energy was almost depleted from the amount of hills we had to conquer.  After the last corner we turned I finally saw the time at the finish line and I had to hurry.  I was close to beating my time from the Albany race at least in my head but I was still unsure where I sat with my personal goal.  I kicked it up a notch and let the tank run dry as I passed the finish.  It was only then when I saw my friend that I said, “Holy $$$$, that was f-in hard!”  She was pretty sure I reached my goal, but we had to be sure and I wouldn’t know for sure until the results were in.  The only reassurance I had was a friend telling me that I had this in the bag, that my training was going to pay off.

I must say I beat the pavement hard on this one, my body aches, I’m still exhausted two days later and I do not curse the person that ever put running in my head.  I actually thank them because I am faster, I have more endurance thanks to this new found cardio and yes, I conquered my personal goal. Dad would be proud.  Who knows you may see me again next year.

Beating on the Pavement

The funny thing about running a 5K for the second time is you do not know what to expect. After training for about a year (or moreso doing real cardio for a change instead of just playing softball) and getting used to ‘running’ for more than just the time it takes to run the bases, I competed in my first 5K. The route was small and narrow, there was about 2000 other women all shapes, sizes, races, ages.  It was a sea of eggs.  It was cold that morning in October, I was freezing but my UnderArmour capris and top kept me warm.  Once I got running, the music pumping in my ears, I couldn’t stop, not even the side stitch I got after the first mile was going to stop me.  The amount of people on the narrow path made it hard to navigate around them but once I found an open spot I dashed around the slower runners and walkers and continued on my way.  About the last .5 mile I sprinted, I took off, there was enough space to just run and I mustered up enough energy to finish.  Later on I was discouraged, I didn’t like running with those unexperienced runners (even if I was one myself).  Many of them didn’t know to move to the side if they were slower or walking.  I wasn’t sure I’d do it again.

And I did, I kept running throughout the year, actually added it as cardio to my weekly workout and entered a race with my sister, the runner in the family.  No way in hell would I be able to beat her best time, so I told her she might be waiting about 8 minutes for me at the finish line.  June in Albany was not expected to be a cold and rainy day, but we were racing in the Freihofers run. Thankfully the rain was just a drizzle when we lined up and only downpoured after we finished on the way to the car.  I followed my same mantra only this time I picked out people who were ahead of me and said to myself “I have to pass that one, and that one and that one” and it worked.  Only the last stretch did I slow my sprint down in fear that I would fall flat on my ass because of the slick roadway on the hill to the finish line.  And I finished again in a sea of green and orange bibs, my purple one was the only one by itself.  A much more organized race, with Olympic athletes leading the pack is definitely my cup of tea. Only next year I’ll add more music to my mp3 and will remember to pack my foam roller (instead of using my sister’s rolling pin).  Now I have a better time to beat and a sport that I can compete alongside my sister.

Spot Checking

This is the second year I’ve gotten checked for skin cancer, or the more technical term when making an appointment at the dermatology “a full body scan”.  My previous doctor had left the practice and they were closing down, she had yet to send me a ‘change of address’ card for this year so I found someone else through my health insurance.  We pay enough for it as it is thanks to the shady healthcare plan put into place by the powers that be (of course I’m also paying for someone else to get scans as well – you know the ones without insurance).  Anyway, standard procedure is they review your medical history, its mostly a scantron form (check yes or no if you have been diagnosed with any of the following), then they put you in a room and review your forms.  You are then handed a paper robe so to speak, its similar to what they give you at the hospital and yes you have to leave the back open but can leave on your under garments.  First I met with the nurse practicianer (female) who would do the initial scan and then the doctor would come in.  She went over everything, checked in my hair, from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet.  I asked her a few questions about  the spots I already had that I was told to ‘keep an eye on’.  One spot in particular was a dark spot on the top of my hip that was just ugly but hadn’t changed in size, shape or color.   She made note of them and then called the doctor in, who also came in with another nurse.  She sat in front of the computer basically taking notes of the exam.  There are now 3 people plus me in the small exam room.  It’s a bit crowded for my liking.  Again, we review the spots, the one on my hip, the raised one on my back (which never really was an issue, it would itch me every now and then).  Then the doctor asked if I’d like the spot near my nose removed, its basically a clear beauty mark that I’ve gotten used to, so I declined.  The cut marks on my legs from years of cutting myself shaving, then cutting them again and again, which have scarred are normal (to me they are ugly, I may go back in the winter to get them taken off).  It was then decided to remove the spot on my back and the one on my hip.  So now I’m laying on my stomach as if I was sunning while the nurse practicianer measures the spots and injects me with novicaine.  They told me it would be a quick procedure that the spots would be shaved off.  OK, now I’m slightly shaking and nervous, especially since I’m light skinned and had visited a tanning booth more than twice in my lifetime (only prior to any trip to the carribean in the winter) and was a ‘baby oil’ tanner back in the 90’s. I didn’t know any better back then but after years of sunburns and money spent on aloe products I could only hope these spots weren’t cancerous.

As I laid there waiting for her to begin, I wasn’t at all prepared for this after all we don’t have a family history and crazy things starting running through my mind.  The last few years (especially after a lesson in expired sunscreen and what that can do to you) I’ve been happily using SPF30, and only 50 if I’m out in the sun all day.  Unfortunately or moreso fortunately I did not inherit the Italian skin from my dad’s side of the family where my skin would become a nice brown leather color.  I get dark but not too dark and if I want to tan then I’ll use the fake tanner sparingly.

I was told “you’d feel a little pinch” when she began, and at first it felt as if she was tracing around the spot, not at all like using a razor to remove it.  Within seconds she was done and on to the next.   Liquid bandaid was used to seal them and yes it does work, I’ve only used a bandaid when I went running and during the day on my hip to not risk opening it up or catching the scab.  When she was finished putting me back together, she said the samples would be sent out to ‘path’ for testing and they’d be in touch if they found anything.  And since I can’t use Neosporin (yes I have a freak allergy to it) I stopped at CVS stocked up on bandaids (if you checked out my first aid drawer at home you’d think I had enough) and bacitracin, I can’t imagine pouring my good old friend Peroxide on these wounds. 

I don’t have a moral of the story nor anything funny to say in conclusion. I just advise you to get checked at least once a year to have peace of mind, if you are in the high risk -light haired, light skinned category and especially if it runs in your family.   Always reapply after an hour in the sun, always date stamp your SPF if it isn’t already and buy new if after a year. 

"Fat" Freebies

After seeing the ice cream truck pull up at work a co-worker said to me ‘no wonder American’s get so fat if everything is fun to eat’. What this person neglected to add at the end of that statement was ‘and free’.  Building management brought the truck here so it wasn’t entirely the company’s idea of making us want to indulge again after a holiday weekend. I can only do so much at work to try to eat healthy, drink water, bring my own lunch, pass on the freebies of pizza, burgers, dogs, etc. Motivate our ‘active’ team that 20 minutes a day is worth something, to work up to working out more than ½ hr, that working out can be fun and enjoyable, that eating healthy is an essential part of the deal.  But I find eating healthy the hardest point to get across with these folks since some of them fill their plates up to the brim with the freebies as if they aren’t going to eat dinner at home.

I pass on a lot of the freebies because during the work week I do not have a ‘cheat’ day to eat what I want and when it is its usually only one meal for me that’s a ‘cheat’ meal.  But again, one can only do so much to motivate and to get the point across.  What gets me is ‘cookie monster’ (I’ve mentioned this person before in a previous blog) wanted to take my ice cream, knowing I wasn’t having any.  Again, the self proclaimed ‘I go to the gym’ goes in my ear and out the other when I see this person poaching everything.  One could only guess this person hits the gym twice a day, but at that rate I still haven’t seen any difference (usually when someone works out the first thing you notice is their face gets thinner).  In closing we are what we eat – what we put in we need to burn off somehow.  We all cannot be perfect but we can get close to it by eating right (in and out of the workplace) and getting that best body you ever had!

My Birthday...finally some closure

Birthday’s over 30 should be properly phrased as such “We’re going out for my birthday” not ‘I’m having a birthday party!’   Anything hinting otherwise such as lavish cake, dinners, dramatic family gatherings should be avoided at all costs as to not assume that Homey the Clown will show up with a pinata and make a Shrek balloon.  With that said, family members/significant others/friends should not be limited to throwing you one as long as it’s a surprise and something that you would want (i.e. if I dream of one of my milestone birthdays to be celebrated at a rooftop bar in NYC don’t have the party at the K of C instead!)  Birthday’s are a celebration of you, not the typical political debate over the healthcare plan either by whoever was invited to celebrate with you.  Birthday’s are not for presents, at least I don’t care for them. If we go out for my birthday, I’m not expecting a gift. 

Overall, I’m not saying you shouldn’t celebrate your birthday, the day you were born, the day your parents became another extension of their adulthood, but there comes a time when you’re not ‘sweet 16 anymore’ and the balloons and cake turn into shots and martinis.

To my friends who aren’t afraid of driving to party and those who sent the snail mail cards..thank you, it means a lot.  I’m over the excuses for why my so-called friends can’t make it, I’m used to the let downs on a holiday weekend where bbqs are more important.  I just hope if you’re pregnant and due around a holiday to hold it in and not scar that kid for life, because trust me it does stick with you for life. 

So I’ve come to terms with the closure I’ve needed for my birthday, realized that true friends will make the effort to party, to bring back the traditional sleepover, peruse the Kama Sutra and add to the requirements list.  To joke about the past, to vent, to gripe, to drink more wine, to vent again and laugh some more.

I will always have one reason why I love my birthday and that makes up for all the reasons why I used to hate it.

BYOPizza? Huh?

Amazing how easily one’s body language changes when they feel threatened.  Evenmoreso when something as innocent as a group of people standing in a circle talking can provoke it.  It wasn’t my fault  “Young Eddie Murphy” ended up standing next to me in the circle jerk.  I have my own man, I don’t need “Young Eddie Murphy” plus the guy needed to use a razor.  Strike one.

(Insert for your viewing pleasure a business casual bar/lounge setting) – now I ask you, would you have pizza delivered to your table at this semi-upscale bar/lounge?  Clearly not.  I am surprised management did not saying anything since business was being taken away from purchasing any type of food at their bar/lounge. Strike two.

Thankfully, having my wits about me I decided to stand and take in the sights and obvious people watching occurring at this bar/lounge while a band comparable to Hanson played Maroon Five and the latest Top 40 hits.  Had I not been standing, Rosanne Bar minus 50 lbs would have gotten clocked for taking up more than two seats in the booth.  I can’t recall the last time I sat down while a band played at a bar/lounge – unless it was an intimate setting!  At least the sights contributed a bad sweater contest and the girl wearing a prison skirt (glad I didn’t drink the water while I was there).

Since my chariot was going to turn into a pumpkin I left after Chucky Cheese made his 300 calorie slice appearance and before the balloon making clown arrived.  Sometimes going out and witnessing these idiocies is worth it.

Underwear and Workouts

Sometimes the type of underwear, panties, jockeys, gotchies you wear can make or break your workout.  I must say unfortunately guys I can’t workout/play sports in a thong sorry, I’ve tried.  There’s just something about sliding into a base and having that dental floss ride a bit higher than its supposed to.  Not to mention having to readjust every few minutes while riding a bike or during a workout  It just doesn’t work.  I have my go-to athletic undees, those that will not ride, will not show a VPL (visible panty line), the ones that you don’t even know you have them on.  Those are not VS panties for obvious reasons.  I can’t say that VS makes ‘athletic – will not ride’ ones unless its their cotton line.  Even those leave a VPL.  The ones I have on today are a bit annoying and they are VS.  But like I said, underwear makes or breaks your workout, nothing like being in the back row taking a gym class with the wrong ones on hoping that no one sees you pick that wedgie from the wall to wall mirrors.