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If yous would try and remember how this blog started…

| cheriarmour

If you’ll remember, back in December, I launched the blog back in December as an effort to drum up attention for the money I was raising for Haiti.  Hence, the title.  Since, I’ve meant to retitle the blog, but I haven’t gotten around to it.  And I’m not that creative.  I want to come up with a funky title, like “I run this ish” (GET IT!!!?) or something, but it just hasn’t come yet.

Anyhoo, I met with the cool folks from Hope for Haiti last night over a beer, and I have to remember to keep my eye on the prize!  They want to send me on a trip (to Haiti obvi) to document what we’re doing down there.  Like take my clearly stellar skills at blogging and photography and document what work we’ve accomplished.  That makes me SO happy!  Bahhh!

I think fitsperation is horrifying.

| cheriarmour

So, part of the reason I started this blog is that I saw some hideous “fitspo,” as they call it, on like Pinterest or something.  I don’t remember what exactly it was that the fitspo stated, but it was probably a picture of some white woman’s sweaty abs, with a tagline over it like “work out all the time, never eat, and lift weights constantly. only a wiener wouldn’t listen to abs like these.” (Also, note the lack of capitalization.  I’m pretty sure that was a thing too.)

So I wanted a blog that you could come to to feel inspired, without me giving you ridiculous advice (like don’t eat), or posting insane pictures on my blog.  And if you refuse to feel inspired or whatever, I’d hope that you could at least laugh and stuff.   And please don’t be offended if you love fitspo, but recognize that everybody, and every body is different.  That said, I will say that I have a person who give me body inspiration.  Not envy, but she makes me go, “Yeah, what a bod!”  And it’s not like, “ohhh I wish I had her body blah blah.”  It’s like.  She’s a real person.  Who very obviously works hard.  Works out hard.  And whose body serves as a testament to the fact that working out, maintaining a healthy diet (P!nk’s been interviewed as saying that she switches with an on-again, off-again vegan diet), and not following tradition, you can look AMAZING.  P!nk doesn’t look like the typical little skinny-mini, and most of us don’t.  However, she is baller.  So….I won’t ask you who’s your fitsperation, because I hate that stuff.  But who (we’re talking real people here) makes you say, “yeah!”?

p!nk

Wedding weekend! (We took the running tour to Reidsville, NC!)

| cheriarmour

Pardon my brief absence, this weekend, one of my nearest and dearest friends, Alexa Wilde (formerly Terry) got married.  SO I took the tour to the bustling metropolis of Reidsville, NC.  Reidsville is a cool little town, kinda close to Greensboro, and the Terry home is beautiful.  Additionally, Charles and Tish, the parents of the bride, have acted like something of my parents away from home – if I showed up to their home in the middle of the night, they would take me in, feed me, and refuse to allow me to leave until I was back on my feet.

Alexa and I have been friends since Elon University, when we both were members of this sweet a cappella group.  And before you act like a hot dog wiener and make fun of us for being all Pitch Perfect, we were so amazing, so don’t be a hater.  So anyhoo, Alexa got murried.  And I’d be lying like a snake if I told you I didn’t ramp up my workouts and healthy eating the week or two before.  The thought of appearing in wedding photos that will be in a person’s memory forever is terrifying to me.  I don’t want to be the one screw-up in a picture that the bride like is still making fun of   25 years later, when she’s explaining to her kids who the sweaty buffalo was.  So I threw in a few extra cycling classes and made sure I didn’t eat anything that might make me all puffy in the photos.

So being the naturally anxious person I was, I did the best thing I knew to do to make sure I wouldn’t drive anyone nuts with my anxious pacing, the morning of the wedding.  I packed my running clothes, and a pair of sneaks, and hit the (super country) road.  I decided to actually run to the barn where Alexa was getting married to check a few things out.

Field

I cruised up to the field first, where you can see that the sky was lookin a little weird, and a few chairs were set up.  (Spoiler alert! The rain held off for us to get our girl married!)

Barn

And then I headed over to the barn. From the outside, it looked like a barn. But it was magic.  Deer antlers.  Old artwork.  Furniture.  A bluegrass band.  I ran around a few times, then headed back to the house, where we did all of the girly fun wedding prep stuff.  I truly feel like scheduling a workout before you put on fancy clothes is the best way to make sure you feel awesome in your clothes.  I don’t care if you’re 500 pounds, running before you put on a fancy dress makes you feel like Tyra in the photos.

Alexa

So me, my date, and the bride. We had a blast.  We didn’t stop dancing.  And we sent our girl off in style.  I’m so happy for our friend, and even happier that I was able to squeeze a run in in such a beautiful little town.

As a side note, disasters don’t just happen for the bride the day of a wedding.  Examples?

    • I didn’t pack any underwear except the ones I was wearing. None.  I had one pair for the entire weekend.
    • I forgot the appropriate undergarments for my dress and had to borrow some from the brides amazing mother.
    • The orange cat I’m cat-sitting ate ALL of the food I put out for him in the first 5 minutes of me being gone, I’m assuming because he vomited on my bed.  Or someone else’s cat broke into my apartment simply in order to vomit on my bed.  Either way.  There’s cat vomit on my bed.  I’m totally not going to include a photo of that here.  Some things have to remain sacred, ya know?

So congratulations Alexa and Colt Wilde!  Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your special day.  And welcome home, Cherisse, time to wash the sheets!

“I just don’t have time to work out”

| cheriarmour

We don’t embarrass people here on the blog. So no names. But a few years ago, a co-worker who knew I taught fitness classes asked me how it was that I’d managed to say in such good shape throughout school. She was interested in beginning to work out. I thought that was great! So I told her to make sure that she was doing something every day. Walking, going to Zumba, running, swimming, just doing something. And she told me that she’d love to lose weight for a cruise she was going on later that year, but that she didn’t have time to do all that I’d told her. Um. First off. Why did you freaking ask me if you’re just gonna be like “Nah, definitely not doing that.” Second off, what the heck do you mean you don’t have time to work out?!

I get it. You’re busy. We’re all busy. I work full-time, I work at the gym, and I have relationships that I’d like to maintain. But if you’re anything like me, you also may like to maintain a healthy weight, you want to feel good in your clothes, and you’d most importantly, like to avoid diabetes, heart disease, hypertension, high blood pressure, and the like. Right?

So if you feel like you don’t have time to work out, take 5 minutes out of your busy day, and look at my suggestions. I’ll have you working out in a second!

  • So, like, what sort of stuff do you do to maintain your personal hygiene? I know it’s a weird question, but work with me here. Do your pluck your eyebrows kinda daily? Do you floss? Do you paint your nails? Wash (or in my case, twist) your hair? You need to start regarding working out like you do some of these things. So tell yourself you’re not allowed to go to happy hour til you spend like 45 minutes on the elliptical.
  • Build your workout into your day to make it more convenient for you. When I was in my second year of grad school, I had like, 8 hours of classes on Tuesdays. So between my 2nd and 3rd class, I would spend the hour and a half doing something. Sometimes I’d run. Sometimes I’d hit the gym where I worked for a class. Sometimes I’d row. And then I’d baby wipes the gross parts and put extra deodorant on for my class. So if your day is jam-packed? Consider a lunch-time workout. Consider a workout while you have a break.
  • Have a date with yourself. I assure you, I have a brain. Actually, I have a Masters. But there’s something simply delightful about carving out the half-hour, the hour, or the hour-and-half to work out while Judge Judy, Maury, Swift Justice with Nancy Grace (which no longer comes on much to my chagrin), the Real Housewives of Blah, or Dancing with the Has-Beens blares. You focus on the crap, and somehow, your time spent on the machine kind of melts away.
  • You have homework to do? A paper to write? Break it up. If you’re pulling a marathon stint, writing your final paper of the semester, write half, write 3/4ths, go for a walk with your dog, and then finish up. You’ll have a little more energy, and some gnarly ideas may come to you when you get the sweat pumping.

So like seriously, if you want to be the sexiest person in the office, in your graduate school cohort, or at church, as I often find myself to be, sneak your workout in.  You’ll perform better.  You’ll look better.  And you’ll finally feel  better cause you’re not making some lame excuse to stay out of the gym.

Working out when you’re sick. Do you do it?

| cheriarmour

PS, my Mom called to threaten me again this morning.  I hope Protective Services is watching out for me.

Thursday night, my throat seemed…dry.  I ran anyways.   “Aw dammit,” I thought, and I put on some distilled water for my neti pot when I got home.

The throat situation grew a little more perilous by Friday.  “Aw dammit.”  I netied three times.

By Sunday, I had to make an executive decision.  Run, and risk that awful cloggy feeling in my already-sore throat?  Or rent two Redboxes, and park it on the couch with a bottle of Essie’s “Trophy Wife”?

I chose the Redbox scenario.  And I think I’m glad I did.  I know I’m glad I did.  There are some sicks when it’s okay to work out.  And you’ll know when that is.  But there are some sicks when your body just needs a break.

Instances When You Don’t Run/Work Out

  • Are you vomiting?
  • Do you have a fever?
  • Tummy upsets?
  • Strep-type situation?
  • Are you going to worsen an already-bad situation?
  • Is your nose going to run all over your shirt?

Instances When You Do. 

  • Are you being annoying and lazy?
  • Do you have cramps ladies? (I swear, working out helps).
  • Are you a little bit pregnant?
  • Are you on the mend from one of the aforementioned instances when you don’t work out?

The moral of the story is, listen to your body.  If you’re sick, and your body is begging for some sleep, go to sleep.  Neti.  Take a hot shower.  And revisit the issue again the next day.  If you’re kinda not sick and you just don’t feel like it, maybe you need a break anyways.  If you’re just being lazy (and I do it too,) make yourself do something short, sweet, but something that still gets your heart pumping a little.  You might find yourself still plugging away, an hour later, and you may feel better about life in general after a nice sweat sesh.

I pray my mother doesn’t murder me for posting a photo of her on my blog.

| cheriarmour

Sorry Mother!

Mom

If she is really ticked about it, she will let me know, at approximately 8:43 am tomorrow, after she sees this post.

Anyhoo, so me and Mom don’t always see eye-to-eye.  And by always, I mean we never see eye-to-eye.  My mom thinks I’m insane, and I find her views on things interesting to say the least.  However, no matter how much we disagree, my mom is still my mom, and she still knows how to say momish things.  I broke a bone in my leg my freshman year in college.  Exactly 10 hours after I relayed this message to her, she rolled up to my dorm in her giant blue van, with my siblings in tow, with food and painkillers for me.  A few years later, I called her sobbing when my throat was so sore, that I literally considered drinking liquid nitrogen.  She drove up (once again in the van), to where I was living 2 hours away, scooped me up, took me to the doctor, bought me a milkshake, and picked up all of my prescriptions in the middle of the night.

So as annoying as moms can be, they’re still moms.  And I know this about my mom.

    • She loves peanut M&Ms.
    • My evil sweet tooth comes from her, she likes sweets.
    • Her height is ridiculous.  All four of us are really tall, and it comes from her side.
    • She loves to dance.  (As do I).
    • She’s driven the same heinous blue van since I was in high school.

So, when you’re laughing your butt off, reading my blog, and nodding along to my stellar advice, you now know that I came from a brood of some pretty incredible women. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom, and Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there!

I have a wicked sense of humor.

| cheriarmour

Like.  I’m not mean.  But I just laugh at people a lot.  (And this is not health or running related, except that laughing is probably 90% of the reason I stay as sexy as I do.)

I’m completely aware this isn’t running related, but just roll with me here.  Let’s chat.

Can I tell you what makes me laugh?  And what I’m sorta obsessed with?  Olivia Newton-John.  And not just Grease-type Olivia Newton-John.  Not just “Let’s Get Physical” Liv.  I’m talking Patrick McDermott Liv.

I’m not sure why this delights me so much, I’m sure Olivia doesn’t find this funny.  Or maybe she does now.  I’m sorry Olivia for laughing at your misfortune.  But consider yourself to have dodged a bullet.  Beyonce has written a great single about it.

But Patrick McDermott was Olivia’s boothang for like a million years.

Patrick

Good-looking couple, no? So Patrick goes bankrupt. And here’s how he decides to handle his issue, instead of dealing with it like a normal person, he goes on a fishing trip, fakes his own death (unbeknownst to his grieving leading lady), and starts living a new life in Mexico. Okay. So here’s where it gets really really good. So they put Olivia on Oprah. This story is featured on America’s Most Wanted, which used to randomly be one of my favorite Saturday night pastimes (I’m a weirdo, so arrest me). The way he’s found is is this.

They set up a website called like “Find Patrick McDermott” or something, and start logging all the IP addresses of the people who are visiting the site. This guy is so obsessed with himself that he has been checking the site so often from his computer in Mexico that they’re able to figure out exactly where he is.  It gets even better.  (And I’m crying now with laughter, not laughing at Olivia’s misfortune, but at this guy’s blatant narcissism).  He sends a fax saying he’s fine and he wants to be left alone.  You hate being with your woman so much, you sent a fax?

Sometimes when I get sad, and a little down, I just Google Patrick McDermott and realize that if all else fails, evidently, you can escape your problems by being a total jerk, faking your own death, and then monitoring your website from your new secret locale.  Priceless.