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Week 1 of Marathon Training.
So, I started training for the Greensboro Marathon this week. I’m about 17 weeks out, so the mileage is totally manageable, but the “training” has been fraught with tragedy.
Got it, Kim.
But I caught some sort of stomach bug and have been queasy since last weekend, a little dehydrated, and it’s made these short, humid, hilly little runs a little challenging. I’ve done them. But it’s been hard. So that little bit of doubt starts to creep in. If I can’t even get through 5 miles without vomiting, how will I do 26.2?!
Chill, Cherisse. You’ve done one of these before. You have the stomach flu. And you’ll be better when you replace your fluids and electrolytes.
Let the marathon madness begin!
Search terms. Y’all some fools!
Not trying to embarrass you guys, but I’ve told you before that I can see what terms you’ve used to arrive at my blog. I post the best ones here. I warned you. #Sorrynotsorry
So the best, since the last time I did this? (And don’t worry, I’ll remain true to the atrocious spelling that was on the list.)
- boobs boobs wordpress (Okay weirdo, one boob is enough. And since last time, the boob talk in my search terms has EXPLODED)
- how to poop before a run (Uhhh.)
- Not sure if this is english or not, but, my sister use thang
- girls in sports bras with nice boobs (Why thank ya!)
- can I spot train booty (Nope. Do your cardio sweetheart, and let the chips fall where they may.)
- marathon training constantly hungry (I feel your pain.)
- i’m drunk so here’s my butthole
- moving comfort thong for men. (Just….no sweetie.)
And finally…drumroll please!
- yo cat smell like fish mcbites
Thank you for playing, guys. You make this job hysterical.
My take on Miz Deen. (And then, can we please be done talking about her?)
I’m sort of getting sick of seeing the aggressive Facebook statuses and Tweets, fiercely defending America’s (formerly, whoops!) chef in light of the latest firestorm she’s under.
In my eyes, Paula’s got a few strikes against her. She doesn’t really cook for folks like me, who run and like to watch what they eat and watch their calories. And I always sort of felt the whole hiding her diagnosis thing while she continued to cook the same way was sort of shady. But I wasn’t eating her cooking really, so if she wants to be sneaky, I mean that’s her prerogative. But this latest thing raised my eyebrows for sure.
In case you’ve been living under any sort of rock, here’s kind of the run-down.
Okay, so Paula admits to having used the n-word, among some other racially questionable decisions. And what I’m hearing a lot of? This.
Okay. Uh. Alright. So quick story, and we’ll get back to my verdict on Paula Deen.
So when I was like 16, I was taking my brother trick-or-treating. He was dressed as the red power ranger, and we were having a blast. A few kids from my high school rolled up on us in a pickup, threw something, (I think it was eggs or pumpkin or something), and shouted, “Hey nigger, nigger, nigger!” while my brother looked on. There was really nothing that made me special or different from any of those kids except for the fact that I was black. And they chose to use that against me, and ruin not only mine, but my young brother’s Halloween memories for the rest of his life. That word, as well as many other slurs completely sucks, and choosing to say “who hasn’t said it,” or “why can’t I say it if they can,” are not acceptable responses to this sort of thing. And P.S., there are a lot of us who don’t use words like that, famous or not. Okay!
My verdict? I feel for Paula Deen. I feel so badly that this whole thing is coming when when racially, our country is on pins and needles. There’s a lot going on. There’s the whole Affirmative Action decision the Supreme Court came down with. There’s the whole George Zimmerman trial. There’s Trayvon’s Martin’s lawyer’s star witness. And there’s just a lot of tension. So I feel for her. I’m sorry she lost her job(s). I’m sorry that one by one, everyone seems to be dropping her, from Wal-Mart to her publisher. And I’m sorry that she feels so sad and hurt by the fact that people now perceive her as racist (probably not as sad as the people she was referring to as the n-word, but she’s a granny, she gets a little sympathy). But she made a bad decision when she continued to choose to use words that she’s really not supposed to say. I wish the best for her and her businesses, I truly do. And I hope that perhaps, her children and grandchildren haven’t learned those bad words from her, and will not continue to use them. However, I hope her missteps are a lesson to folks. Hateful language is just that, hateful, and calling folks any sort of disparaging names, can sometimes come back to bite you in the butt. Paula, I accept your tearful a-Paula-gees (hee hee), but just do better next time, Granny, and I’m sure Wal-Mart will take you back.
My week in pitchurs (that’s how it sounds when people down here say it!)
This week, my first week back at home in Raleigh, has been a whirlwind of working, teaching Zumba classes, adding new songs to my lineup, job things, and trying to reset my life here in Raleigh. Honestly, it was hard to leave my mom last Saturday morning, and I wish I didn’t have to. But she’s improving, and I can’t hang around my parents’ house forever, right? So my week in a few pitchurs.
The Greensboro Marathon. Oh guess who’s doing their second marathon in October? If you guessed Sydney Poitier, you guessed wrong. ME! I am doing the Greensboro Marathon October 26th, after I searched both high and low for a race I could do (within financial reason) this fall! The race starts in Elon (which obviously, I’m obsessed with because I went there, duh,), and ends in downtown Greensboro. I’m hoping for a little bit prettier weather than the marathon I did last spring, and I’m better prepped for how boring life will get around mile 17. I can do this! Hang in there for marathon posts, I’m sure there will be a TON.
Zucchini Fire. It’s zucchini season in good ol’ NC, and I’ve come into possession of several humongous zucchini weanies. I had to find a way to cook them. And what other way than grating them into some zucchini bread? Well, me being the domestic goddess that I am, I overfilled my bread pans, and they leaked into the oven, where they started a fire in my kitchen. Not kidding. I was literally using my lungs to put it out in a desperate effort to save my bread. The bread was saved, and I only had to spend like 89 hours scrubbing the oven out with a piece of steel wool. #Winning.
Headstand victory. My yoga teacher, the young little Emily Wallace down at Indigo Hot Yoga, let us play around with a few headstands today, and instructed us, step-by-step, on how to get up into one. I got up, and was able to stay up for a few seconds. Do I need more work? Yes. Do I need to get a little more consistent in my practice to continue to see progress, and to continue being a Bendy Wendy, even when I train for this marathon? Absolutely. But it felt good, and it took my mind off of serious stuff to be able to work out my core and stay up in a headstand for a while.
Can we say “whew”? What a friggin week!
A fail-tale…
So yesterday, I almost considered skipping out on a day of my one-mile streak because I was kinda tired, and it was raining sort of hard.
One of those summer storms in North Carolina. But the thought of making it to the end of the streak (where you run a mile a day, every day between Memorial Day and the 4th of July, making for 39 consecutive days of running), and having skipped today over a dumb little reason made me feel bad. And I dragged myself up to trot the one mile (after I’d taught a Zumba class).
Turnt up the iPod. Blurred Lines. Actually model-strutted a few steps. Looked around. Practiced my dance moves, should one of my friends play it at their wedding.
I swiped my finger across my Garmin 610. And waited for the satellites to load. ::vibrate:: they’re loaded!
Started Blurred Lines again. Robin Thicke, you so sexy.
And off I went. “This isn’t so bad! You’re good! This feels so good!” Trotted around the corner of Peace Street. Happened to glance down as Robin told me to “Shake ya rump!” and my GPS was off. Because I hadn’t pressed start. Fail. Fail. Fail.
Oh well. At least I got up and did it. I’ll remember to press the start button next time.
#runnerprobs, part 2
Okay. I know I’m a little dramatic. And darker-skinned than some of you. But this bee sting I suffered the other day while running freaking sucks!
It’s itchy. I ran today, and it stings. And the only time it feels good is when I’m in the shower and my high-pressured water thingie runs over it. To all my peeps out there, experienced in this sort of runner’s tragedy, what the HECK do I do to make this thing stop itching, and to turn my collarbone back to the delicious shade of latte with skim it’s supposed to be? I’m desperate here!
Sportwash, you save lives.
You guys were around last week when I left my Sportwash in Raleigh, right? And how I washed my workout clothes in regular detergent,h and almost died when the smell of my freshly washed clothes (they wasn’t so fresh), hit me?
So I got back to Raleigh yesterday, and hit the ground running (hee hee). If you’ve never been out here, the weather here is kind of nuts. It gets pretty hot here, it’s the summer, but the real killer is the humidity in the summer months. It storms, sometimes once a day, and the product is oppressive, heavy heat, that will have you soaking wet by the end of a run. Headaches and hotheadedness are super common, unless you’re conscious of it and take care to hydrate throughout the day.
It’s funny, because when I go to Pennsylvania to visit my camp family in the summer, it can be like 89 degrees, and bone dry, and everyone’s all “It’s gonna be a hot one! Make sure you keep that water bottle full.” And I’m like bundled in my winter finest.
But I digress.
Your clothes are soaked. And they smell horrid, especially at the end of these humid runs. Enter Penguin Sportwash.
If any of you go to the store and buy Tide Sport, I promise, I will scream. That stuff just has a bunch of Febreze in it, and the Febreze just sits on your stank like…I can’t even describe the horror. You need this. It’s biodegradable. It’s scentless. I hear it gets blood out. Idk. I try not to bleed on my workout clothes, but whatever. So you can order this stuff off Amazon, and sometimes you can find it in a few running or sporting specialty shops. Bottom line, it will have you smelling like an athlete at the start of the race, rather than at the end. Try it, and tell me what you think.
#Runnerprobs
I hear Facebook is hashtagging it now, so let’s so how the title of this post holds up.
Look closely at my collarbone. See that little area of irritation? That, my dear runner friends is a runnerprob I’d never encountered.
LeeAnn Rimes, that sassy little minx, was playing on the iPod, and I must’ve run directly into the little sucker, because all of a sudden, I was hit, and I had to run home with my collarbone stinging because sweat kept dripping into it. Whew! Drama. Folks, the moral of the story is, carry your Epipen around, you never know when you’ll be hit with dat beestang.
Overactive Blogger 