Weekend Highlights.

Another exciting weekend in the books, people. I'm the biggest party animal in town these days. 

Seriously, how anti-social can I be? 

Check out my new friends, the leaves. They are literally turning red as we speak. That tree is going to be on fire soon.

Friday was my follow-up xray. Remember that stress fracture I had back in May? Yeah, I'm just now getting cleared to run again. 

Apparently I need more milk in my diet.

Saturday was my last day of single life so I felt that I needed to take full advantage and treat myself to pancakes. I make a damn good pancake too. Too bad TC insists on going out for breakfast every weekend morning. His loss.

It was super gross outside which kind of put a damper on all my fun plans for the day.

Instead I went all hurricane Kate on my kitchen and made a total mess. All in the name of a pumpkin loaf...

And because I'm really that cool, I organized my linen closet. Two years ago when I moved in with TC I made it perfect. TC does his own laundry, and I will be forever grateful for that, but dear Lord, how hard is it to fold a towel? How hard is it to put a beach towel with all the other beach towels? 

Until he learns to fold a towel in thirds, he's never allowed in there again. I'm sure he's crying his eyes out right now.

To relieve my linen closet stress, I went on over to the gym. I've been playing around and making up circuit workouts for myself lately, and this one was awesome. 

Get excited, you'll be seeing more of these in the future.

Finally, after ten long days of being gone, TC came home on Friday night. He's been off sailing in the World Championships in New York. They got 84th place! Or was it 85th place? Let's be real, I don't think it really matters at that level. Fact is, the boat didn't sink and he's home. 

All is well in the world.

This morning I woke up excited to go out to our usual Sunday breakfast but TC had a paper to write and bailed on me. I moped around for an hour or so until he decided that greasy food is more exciting than stupid graduate school homework. Obviously. I can't believe that was even in question.

To battle all the grease I headed back to the gym this morning for another awesome circuit. I love these things, they're short, sweet and sweaty. 

I'll love them even more if they get these extra ten pounds off me. But perhaps I should stop eating grease for breakfast first...

And then I went back to my computer for more homework. 

And then some more homework.

For a snack today I made a smoothie in the white blender. It's four years old, tops. Half way through the blending process today it died. Kaput. Toast. 

Thankfully, I have my mother's yellow blender that was her wedding present in 1978. Works like a charm. They just don't make things the way they used to.

I would like you all to take note of who is ironing his own clothes tonight. 

YES!

I am never going back to ironing. Never. never. never. 

Real men iron their own clothes.

How was your weekend? I'm sure it wasn't as rockin as mine.

Not How I Look. It's How I Feel.

On the up side, I didn't gain the 20 pounds over the summer that I feel like I have. On the down side, I did gain 8 pounds.

But here is the thing folks, its not really about the numbers. It isn't even really about how you look. It's about how you feel. Ya hear me on this one?

Summer is over. The whole three months went by without even an ounce of exercise or one iota of consideration for what I was eating. And I now feel like a mushy mashamllow. Again, its how I feel. Not how I look. Not what I weigh.

I hit a wall last week. None of my clothes were fitting and I hated the prospect of getting dressed and going anywhere. I wore the only pair of comfortable shorts I own...day after day. It was getting embarrassing.

So, I decided to do something about it. It was high time that I get off my butt and get back to the gym. Every day after work I came home, took off my miserable work clothes and put on my gym clothes. Every day. Do you know how many times I actually went to the gym last week? None. I really thought the whole gym clothes thing would give me the motivation I needed. Turns out, it just gave me something comfortable to lounge in around the house.

As of this morning, my body was angry with me. My belly was constantly full, my muscles were achy, I was grumpy and I didn't have any energy to speak of. It was time to actually go to the gym. And why not? The gym is my sanctuary. It's where no one asks me questions, its where no one needs me for anything, its where I'm completely left to my own devices. It's heaven I tell you.

So off I went tonight. No more excuses. I prepped dinner before I left. I wrote down instructions for what temperature to bake the salmon and what time to start boiling the potatoes. I kissed TC on the cheek and got my ass in gear. It wasn't nearly as hard as I thought. Turns out, I'm quite capable of getting in the car and driving myself to the gym. Who knew?!

Within three minutes of being on the elliptical I already felt better. I could feel my muscles working. I could even feel a bit of sweat starting to bead on my brow. I cranked up my resistance and turned up my iPod. And I kept going. It was good to be back.

Is there a difference in how I look right now? Probably not. I mean, it's only been a whole four hours since my workout. Has my weight changed? Absolutely not. Let's be real, I had mashed potatoes for dinner. But how I feel? Infinitely better.

Imagine how I'll feel next week. And in another month? It's going to feel good.

And really, that is all I'm going for here - to feel good and be comfortable in my own skin.

Really, I don't think that is asking too much. I think we all deserve at least that.

So I say do something about it. If you don't love how to you feel about yourself, than make a change. Hit the streets and go for a walk. Go to the gym. Hell, just put your gym clothes on and act like you're going to do something. Eventually, you will.

Three Days To Go and A Whole Bunch of Nerves.

Three months in the making and we're now down to a measly three days before race time.

That's right people, this coming Sunday is the Blue Nose Half Marathon in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Me and 11,999 of my new best friends will be running through the hilly streets of Halifax - think San Fransisco style hills. It shouldn't be a big deal seeing as I have been training exclusively on roads with zero incline.

I'm a little nervous. First of all, I'm terribly sick and am hoping my antibiotics kick in soon. Otherwise, I'll be hacking up a lung while I try and run across Canada. It should only take me six hours and a box or two of Kleenex to finish 13.1 miles.

Secondly, I've had an annoying pain in my lower leg for a few weeks now. I spent an hour waiting in line for an x-ray today and should have the results back by Friday. I'm thinking it will be clear, but just in case could you all start praying now that the radiologist doesn't find a stress fracture? Or maybe that they'll loose my films and won't be able to tell me in time, which means that I can run with no guilt.

Third, thanks to my lovely illness, my appetite has been a disaster all week. Instead of spending the week loading up on healthy carbs, proteins, fruits and veggies, I have been eating only ice cream and coffee because nothing else sounds remotely appetizing. Nutrition at it's finest. But like the good doctor said yesterday, "Your body is telling you to soothe your throat. Enjoy." Thanks, doc.

So, my goal for tomorrow is to eat an apple and go for a walk. I'm hard core like that.

Please pray for me, my lungs, my throat, my stomach, my leg and the radiologist's blindness.

Oh, and in case you care, this is the training plan that has been torturing me for the past three months. I made it on Smart Coach - awesome site, by the way. You'll notice that what I was supposed to do and what I actually did are two very different things. You'll also notice that there is nothing about time on there. That's because I've refused to wear a watch or even learn the definition of 'pace.'

That could be part of the 6:30 finishing time that I'm expecting this weekend.

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Workout: nothing!!!!!!!!!

How To Run in the Rain.

This afternoon marked my first ever run in the rain. It wasn't exactly a down pour, mind you, but it was definitely the opposite of sunny and dry.

Because I know very little about running, I called my badass-marathon-running father and interrupted his beach vacation to ask him exactly how one goes about running in the rain.

First he laughed out loud and then basically told me to run in the rain just like I would run in the sun.

"You mean I don't have to, like, wear a jacket or something??" I asked.

"Well, how hot is it?" he asked.

"Its Canada! Its never hot!" Jeez.

"Well, just wear your regular running clothes," he said. "You're not going to melt."

Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration. He did actually give me a few tips.

So, with his great advice and a dash of my own personal genius, here is what I learned about running in the rain.

1. Worms are evil, evil animals and should all be destroyed immediately- where are their legs?! Do your best to either avoid them at all costs or crush as many as possible. It's your choice.

CRUSH THEM ALL!

2. Wear a hat to keep the rain out of your eyes. Sunglasses won't work unless they have mini windshield wipers attached. Unfortunately, Claire's was all sold out so I went with the hat option.

3.  Sandwich baggies work perfectly for keeping your music dry. Not the most classy thing I've ever concocted, but genius nonetheless. Usually I run with my iPhone in my hand, but my shuffle was a better option today because I could change the songs in spite of the baggie.

4. Dry your shoes with the soles removed. It helps them dry faster that way.

If you're looking for even speedier drying, place said shoes and soles in front of the refrigerator. It doesn't work in my kitchen but apparently my parents have some super awesome space ship refrigerator that produces magic air out of the bottom of the refrigerator vent.

5. Do not wear moose socks. Ever. Yes, thank you, I know I am the Queen of Loserville.

According to my father, wear the thinnest socks you have in order to reduce squishyness from wet socks. I would also like to add that wearing higher-rising socks is a good idea because wet socks easily slip down - wet shoes against wet skin produces painful blisters at an astonishing rate.

6. Puddles should be avoided at all costs. Except in the last mile - then it's just plain ole fun to run through them and splash around like a four year old.

7. Slugs are the devil's work and should be wiped from the planet this very moment.

THEY HAVE NO LEGS!

I want to vomit just looking at the photo.

*Might I add just one more little nugget of wisdom regarding attitude? Don't dread a little rain. Embrace it. Just think, you're the only one out there because all the slackers are using it as an excuse to sit on their couch. Meanwhile, you're out there getting tougher and stronger. Just my two cents...

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Wednesday Workout: Cardio - 2.5 mile run, per training plan; Weights - shoulders, bis, tris

Thursday Workout: 6 mile run, per training plan

Sidelined?

Well friends, this might be the end of the line for me and my half-marathon training. It's not definite, but it's not looking good.

I've been training for a half-marathon for the last couple of months. Before that, I was a regular gym rat, but not a regular runner by any means. Lately, I've been working really hard at running. I've been following my training plan, planing my meals and hydration accordingly, invested in fancy new running shoes and trying really hard to take care of myself. Things have been going well and I was on track to finish the half-marathon.

It's weird how fate intervenes. It sucks how your body can turn on you too. Two weekends ago I ran 8 miles for my long run. It was a great run and I felt strong. Except for this pesky pain I had in my lower leg. It wasn't anything I couldn't run on, but it was a nagging discomfort. It wasn't enough to worry about.

It was sore on and off last week while I was running too. Again, nothing too troublesome. Then this past Saturday during my 9 mile run it was aching again. I figured if I could still feel it through my four Advil and huge amounts of race adrenaline, then the soreness might be something I should pay attention to.

Anyway, by Sunday night the soreness was constant and there was a definite spot on my leg that was tender to the touch. I sucked it up and made a doctors appointment to see a Sports Med doc for today.

As it turns out, he didn't have anything good to say. Nonsense about stress fractures, tendinitis, not running, and apologizing that I had already paid race registration fees.

Nonsense, I tell you!

So you know what I did? I drove straight to Wendy's and treated myself to a forbidden, gigantic fountain Coke.

I figured it was more responsible than a bottle of tequila.

I'm saving that for Friday's Cuatro de Mayo party.

Meanwhile, the following photo demonstrates exactly what I have to say to my leg:

Sorry if I offended you.

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Workout: 35 minutes on my bike trainer

Grande-Digue 15k: Longest Run Yet.

This past weekend I ran le Grande-Digue 15K race! The furthest I have ever run in my whole entire life.

For all you non-French speaking people, Grade-Digue is actually a tiny little town right outside of our town and it loosely translates to Big Seawall...I think. Basically, it is right on the Atlantic. I think...

The Canadian and I woke up bright and early Saturday morning only to discover that spring had left the building and winter had returned. Seriously, it was 30 degrees, overcast, snow flurries, and crazy intense wind. 

We accidentally drove 30 minutes in the wrong direction to the race. For a minute or two it looked like we weren't going to make it on time. I'm not going to lie, I was totally okay with that. The heat of the car was much more inviting than the biting wind.

Unfortunately Fortunately, The Canadian has mad driving skills and got me to the starting line right on time. I was decked out in winter running tights, a shirt, a long sleeve shirt, a jacket, gloves and a knit hat, plus my parka up until the very last minute.

It was a small race of around 300 runners. But let me tell you, about 90% of the runners were hard core athletes. 

Just look at the maniac in the green tank top. And the dude in the purple?! Makes me glad that I was waaaay at the back of the pack. 

The first four miles (6k) went really well. It was windy, but it was a tail wind. The roads were flat and I was cruising along at my usual turtle pace, totally happy and feeling good. 

As I rounded a corner I saw a black car parked along the side of the road with a very handsome man leaning against the door. The Canadian! He had driven around the course and found a place to wait and wave at me. 

His timing was perfect as I was ready to shed my jacket, gloves and hat that I had shoved in my pants. I was going to stick it all in a random mailbox but handing it off to him seemed much more logical.

Note: Please notice the ditch full of icy cold water in the above photo.

I threw him my jacket and he caught it. No problem.

When I threw him my hat the wind caught it and sent it flying directly in the ditch of water. 

Bless his heart, that man went right down the hill and saved my hat from a watery death. 

Note: Notice the hat flying across the top right corner. haha

The next mile was fairly uneventful and I ran along side beach front cottages. 

But then - then - it got ugly. The course turned a corner and I saw the biggest hill I have ever run. I gave myself a pep talk, put on a good song and prepared to conquer the hill.

That would have been all well and good too had the most horrific head wind of all time not picked up at that exact moment. I'm talking knock you backwards, blow your sunglasses off, can't catch your breath, headwind. 

The hill went on for 3 miles. There were a few short plateaus and one very short down hill, but not enough to make a difference. It was excruciating.

At one point we turned a corner and I pretty much wept with relief that the head wind was finally over. But then the crosswind started. It was so strong that it literally blew my outside leg into my inside leg and caused me to trip - twice!

That was also right about when the snow flurries started. Somehow, I managed to convince myself that flurries were simply impossible so the white stuff must be ash from a forest fire. Or perhaps a volcanic eruption.

Enough of the drama. 

I finally made my way to the last mile (13k). This was uncharted territory for me. Eight miles was my previous max. I knew I was in the homestretch and I knew that the last mile was advertised as being downhill. 

I was going to make it. 

Sure enough, that last mile was a piece of cake. I flew. I felt like a fighter pilot in a turbo jet. 

When I crossed that finish line and the woman put my first race medal around my neck I felt like a million bucks. Granted my fingers were frozen solid, my hamstring felt like it had been put in a blender and my shin was screaming, but I felt good. And so excited for a medal!

After an hour and forty five minutes of running up hills through wind and snow, I stuffed myself with chocolate milk and cheddar cheese. I don't know that food has ever tasted so good.

Too bad the t-shirt and the medal are the ugliest things I have ever seen in my life. Seriously, who designed this stuff? And who are the people in the photos? Why didn't they put of picture of me on there?

When we got home I promptly hung my treasured medal in the laundry room. It's where I like to keep sentimental things that deserve some wall space but that no one else really cares about. Where do you keep your favorite stuff?

I owe The Canadian the biggest thank you of all time. He sat in miserable weather all morning just to be my personal photographer, carry my coat and support me. 

He's the best husband ever.

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Workout: Cardio - 1.5 mile run, my leg was killing me; Weights - shoulders, bis, tris; Class - Body Flow, 60 minutes

10k: One Step Ahead of Reverse

I was signed up to run my first 10k race for this Saturday. But on Thursday night I was still battling shin pain and having a hard time deciding what to do about the race. Run? Not run? Walk? Sleep in? 

I put it out of my mind all day Friday and figured I would make a last minute decision on Saturday morning. I went to work, came home and went over to some friend's house for dinner and drinks. 

When I got home on Friday night I had a text message from my marathon-runner father that said:

If you decided to run tomorrow - and I think you should - take 4 advil an hour before the race.

Done. Sold. 

That was all I needed to hear - I was going to run AND I was going to finish. 

So Saturday morning The Canadian and I headed down to the river for the 8th Annual Transplant Trot. 

The river is the windiest part of town. It was 36F outside with bright, beautiful blue skies.

Per my dad's advice, I wore winter running tights, my lucky long sleeve moose t-shirt with a gigantic hole in the armpit and a light-weight neon pink running jacket. I was looking H-O-T.

I wasn't too nervous because I had it in my head that I was going to do this. It was that simple. I could feel it in my bones.

The race started out along the river and turned over the bridge to cross the river. After the bridge the course turned and we headed back down along the other side of the water. This gave me a view of the city and in turn let The Canadian see me crawling along in my neon pink jacket - which he could easily spot through the zoom lens on the camera.

I felt really good for the first 4 kilometers. Funny thing about Canada, they actually measure a 10k in kilometers. Miles mean nothing to these people. The down side is there are more distance markers (10 vs 6) but the upside is that they go by so much faster. It makes you feel really speedy.

Thanks to the unethical amount of Advil, I had absolutely no shin or hip pain. I was, however, getting warm and promised myself that I could take off my jacket at the 5k mark. It's amazing how easily I can manipulate myself.

From 6-8k I was getting a little bored and a little nauseous. I run so much better when I'm stressed out and having something to contemplate. Unfortunately for me, I didn't have a care in the world on Saturday so my mind was blank and all I had to think about was how I could easily puke everywhere. I put that thought right out of my head and focused on singing along with Rhianna and taking photos of myself.

At 8k I let myself push up my long sleeves to cool off a bit. That was when I realized that I was actually going to finish in one piece and vomit-free. 

I didn't look at my watch once, and didn't care about time, but I had a feeling I was keeping my usual turtle speed 11 minute pace. One step ahead of reverse, people, one step.

Still feeling good, I rounded the corner and the finish line was in sight. Hallelujah!

I finished in 1:07:54. I'm pretty sure I was in the bottom five. That means I beat 4 people! FOUR!

Then I played the drama queen card and threw myself on the ground. I'm nothing if not classy.

It was the perfect first 'big' race for me - 80 runners, good conditions, easy trail, and a wonderful husband who patiently waited for 67 minutes to see the neon pink reappear along the river. 

Then I went home and hung my number on the refrigerator. Because that's what cool people do.

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Friday Workout: Rest and Wine

Saturday Workout: See Above

Sunday Workout: Cardio - bike/elliptical 35 minutes, Weights - Biceps, Shoulder, Abs