Kelly Osbourne was on the cover of Self Mag, looking all cute and stuff. So I picked it up at Harris Teeter. It wasn’t til I got the thing home, that the horror music started playing.
Literally, how it went in my mind. “OMG yay Kelly Osbourne is on the cover! I love her tattoos and she seems so happy and colorful now!”
Then I saw the tagline that went with it.
Let me explain a little bit about my background. A bajillion years ago, MTV had this show called “Fat Camp” that was airing. I loved every second of it. The thought that there was this beautiful place out there in the wilderness where people went to camp (my favorite thing ever!) to eat healthy and lose weight sounded like paradise to me. Fast forward about 5 or 6 years? I was an employee, a fitness instructor at this paradise, and I literally will talk your head off about camp for 1000 hours if you let me. So that said, I know for a fact, that people who’ve lost astonishing amounts of weight like a nice compliment, but don’t like you pointing it out like they looked like some fat disgusting freak of nature before. So you know me. I had to write a letter to the editor.
Let’s start with the good.
I’m too broke to afford a subscription to your mag, so I follow you on all the social networks, and when I have a little extra cash, or when your mag is SUPER good, I’ll pick up a copy.
Kelly Osbourne was looking cute as a button, and I had to pick up May’s issue of Self. However, I was blown away (and not in a good way) by this tagline. “Kelly Osbourne. Exactly how she lost 70 pounds! That’s like half a person!”
I’ve not had a huge weight struggle, but I’ve worked at weight loss campus for the last three summers. The absolute last thing that a person wants to hear when they’ve lost a ton of weight? “You’ve lost like half a person!” “That’s like losing a full child’s worth of fat!” or “You lost a full person!”
Now this isn’t to say that a person who’s lost a lot of weight doesn’t like to be told, “Man, you look great!” “Have you been doing Yoga? Your arms look so jacked!” “[Insert city here] is treating you so well, you look fantastic!” But saying things that make the person feel as if they looked like a disgusting fat beluga whale before? It’s not flattering or fun. It’s sort of hurtful. And an insensitive thing to say.
That said, Kelly Osbourne looks freaking fantastic, and she seems like she’s in an awesome place in her life. Keep featuring strong, loud, brave women like her, and I’ll be picking this up every month!
I’m hoping they’ll take the advice and lay off those sorts of compliments next time.
So, I’ve been technically pescatarian since my sophomore year of college. How many years is that? I’m kinda bad at counting. Maybe like 6 years is a safe estimate?
Anyhoo, I’m not sure what brought me to that decision, except the food at the Harden Dining Hall tasted like garbage, and the meat was the worst of it all. And I wasn’t a super meaty girl to begin with. I never was much of a steak or a burger eater, so it was sort of easy. I just magically sort of stopped eating it.
At first I think I fell into the trap of eating a lot of french fries and Diet Cokes. It’s easy to do. But as I moved further into veggie-land, started living in a more veg-friendly town, started working next to the Whole Foods, and got a few more veg/vegan friends, it became clear that vegetarian meals were very multi-layered. So many flavors, proteins, and spices. I started paying The Remedy Cafe, a local veg joint, a few more visits, and I began getting super creative at home with beans, salads, veggie broths, and the crock pot. It’s been delicious. I’ll share with you guys a few more recipes if you want!
The Remedy Diner on Hargett Street. Photo courtesy of Marty’s Flaying Vegan Review.
So why am I ranting and raving about why Veg Cooking doesn’t blow? Well I had an interesting interaction this week, and I’m hoping to convince a few of yous to at least try some veg things before you knock it (How do you get protein?! It just ain’t natural! I cannot live without meat, it’s just too hard).
Well my mom’s been sick, and I headed home the beginning of last weekend to tend to the house and Mom while everyone was gone for a family event. I cooked a few meatless wonders for her, and she loved them. Actually said some of the stuff (super easy spinach quiche, pan seared fish, nuts), was the best she’d tasted. So I challenge you guys, even if you love love your meaty meaty steaky meat, to try something called Meatless Mondays. I’m not trying to convert you so calm down. (But I will say pescatarianism has helped me to look incredibly fly, so if you want to look whack…okay just joshin’…) Or if you like love steak on Monday, do it Thursday or whenever. The original purpose was to reduce folks’ consumption of saturated fats. But I’m just telling you to do this like to broaden your horizons like Mom did. Do it. Commit. Like get all flavorful with it. Then tell me what you think. I know you’re gonna love it, but just humor me.
So this question came in, one sort of cold morning about a month ago from Mollie Cavanaugh. If you’re new to running….if you’re sort of new to running. If you’re not new, but you’re kind of broke, so you haven’t really looked into running stuff, you may have questions about what you’re supposed to wear. On this particular day, Mollie had been running, and she was frustrated because she’d had to hold her pants up that were falling off her ass as she ran. We’ve all been there. The worst. Feeling. Ever.
So why do you need this fancy running stuff? You’re more than welcome to run in your regs stuff. Put on your cotton t-shirt. Put on your like nasty hot sweatpants. Put on your cheerleading shoes from like 7 years ago. And run. It’ll feel fine for like half a mile, and then you’re gonna be all “Ughhh, Cher, like, why do I have blisters everywhere?! I hate running!” So like, just listen to me and trust what I’m saying. I’m not doing this post for my classic good looks.
So I’m gonna tell you what to wear so your pants don’t fall down and so you have a comfortable ride.
Top to bottom. Peep the picture as your guide.
Antlers. Sike.
Top. Stop wearing those nasty cotton t-shirts you got for free during undergrad basketball games. They’re the absolute worst. Cotton is great for a dress. Cotton is great for those swabs you use to take your nail polish off. But for a shirt? The shirt will get wet and stay wet. And it will be heavy. Opt for one of those tops made of a tech fabric. They’re light, and they will wick moisture away from your skin. If it’s cooler out? Layer the fabrics. But don’t do cotton.
Bra. I’ve posted on bras before. Just drop the $50 on a good bra, and don’t look back. If you are rummaging around on the table at Target for a bra? You’re in the wrong place. The absolute last thing you need is for your boobs to be flopping around. Stick with that good bra, and you can even prevent that droopy thing that starts to happen as we get a little older.
Undies. Stay. Away. From those like, disgusting cotton undies. Buy some workout ones. I’ve posted on this before. Moving Comfort makes undies, full bikinis, and thongs. If you can’t handle their steep price tag ($16 a pair can be nuts), Hanes even makes athletic underwears for about $10 for the 3.
Pantalones. Again, stick to the techs. Not everyone is comfy wearing the tight like I am. Do you like shorts? Do the shorts. Do you like more of a fit and flare type look? Nike makes that. Choose what works for you. But again, skip the cotton.
Socks. Synthetics. I can’t stress it enough. STOP. Stop with the damn bags of cotton socks from Wal-Mart. You’re not doing your toots any favors. None. You will bleed.
So here’s the thing. The stuff gets expensive, so I’m gonna teach you a little trick. Get your gear piecemeal. And buy it out of season. If your paycheck blows, buy one piece a check, and squirrel it away. Before you know it, you will have what you need. Running is seriously one of the most economic sports you can partake in, so you can ball on a budget with this sport. Questions? Put it in the comments 🙂
I’m here in Charlotte, taking care of Mom. That’s right folks, I’m domesticated. I cook and clean. It’s been kinda cool too, because my family isn’t really veg, so I’m able to introduce a lot of cool healthy foods to the fam, and the more I learn, the tastier the recipes are.
So I’m here, you know, the weather kind of blows, plus I didn’t want to leave my mom alone while I went for a run. What to do, what to do? I packed my workout clothes, and I didn’t want to lose all my fitness while I was here at home. Lucky for me, my Dad, who requested that he have a man room when he bought this house, put a treadmill in the man room. So on it I went. Among the Derek Jeter and Jorge Posada posters, the dartboards, and the pile of Sports Illustrated in the corner.
(PS, my Dad actually watched like 3 hours of The Real Housewives of Atlanta last time I was home because I left the television on Bravo. It’s actually a good show, y’all, Nene Leakes speaks the truth).
This is me, mid-stride, running. I haven’t been able to get rid of that bra that the hook broke on, so it’s still going. Notice the Derek Jeter poster behind me? I was able to get 5 miles in while The Bodyguard blared. Whitney bettah werq! I know we all complain like someone is stealing our firstborn when we have to get on the “dreadmill” but it really wasn’t so bad. And, if it turns out I need to take a leave and move to Charlotte while my mom heals, I need to make this treadmill and these yoga DVDs out to be the most fun thing since Amanda Bynes starting tweeting weird stuff.
So my favorite part of the weather warming up? (Sorta, I guess, I heard that some of yous in Colorado are getting snow? Gross.) Smoothie and salad time! Goodbye to heavy soups and gravies, and time for some light, tasty foods. Try this recipe in the morning for a tart, tasty smoothie!
What you’ll need
-Frozen bag of mixed berries (blue, raspberries, black, strawberries)
-Low-sugar orange juice (or you can cut regular orange juice with water)
-Palmful of spinach (optional)
-Scoop of Whey Protein (optional, but creates a wonderfully soft texture in the smoothie)
What you’ll do
-Fill a glass a little more than half way with frozen fruit. Dump it in the blender. Add optional spinach if you’d like.
-Add a little scoop of whey protein to the blender.
-Cover the fruit with the low-cal, low-sugar orange juice. Or add juice about halfway up the fruit, and add water the rest of the way.
-Blend until you get that little tornado in the center of the mix.
-Drink up and enjoy! (And tweet, email, and send me your pics of your sweet spring treat!)
Put down that Runner’s World sneaker guide. Stop asking your friends on your Facebook status what shoe you should get. And for the love of God, stop buying $45 shoes off of Amazon. I’m going to make this really really super easy for you.
Go to a running specialty store. Get a fitting. Purchase your shoes. (And a nice, synthetic sock). And enjoy yourself. Here’s why.
Some ridiculous percentage of you guys are wearing the wrong size shoes. It’s not normal to get black and sore toenails. It’s not normal to lose toenails in a race. It’s also completely abnormal to have space enough by the heel collar for me to shove my fingers in the back of the shoe (which I totally saw at Niketown this weekend). You’re supposed to go up a half to a full size from your dress shoe size, because when you run, and when you work out? Your feet swell. Go get measured.
Someone has convinced youyou have flat feet/high arches/need some crazy custom orthotic. Some of you guys have been told but an aunt since you were five you have some weird foot thing. You buy your shoes based on this and you’re buying the wrong shoe. Again, let a trained professional look at your foot and tell you what’s going on.
You’re not really saving much of anything when you buy a $56 shoe off amazon. Or at DSW. Or at Dick’s. Firstly, running shoes are not the place to skimp on money. Shoes really shouldn’t cost less than $100 If a shoe is that cheap, there’s probably any number of reasons for that.
The shoe is an older model. As in, it’s no longer manufactured.
The shoe is a cheaper version of a real shoe. The company has taken cushioning out of a good shoe, named it something else, and sold it.
The shoe has been sitting in a warehouse for 3.5 years. Shoes naturally begin to break down after a year, whether they’ve been worn or not. You just paid money for a shoe that’s already worn out, and you’re risking injury.
Running shoes are a science. They’re an art. They’re subjective. And using a sneaker guide, asking friends, or just buying the cheapest thing you can find at a Dick’s Sporting Goods is just doing your body, your feet, and your running future a huge disservice. Go get a fitting. Drop the $110 on a shoe. And be your best running self (okay, werq Oprah!)
I need to give Nike, the Nike Women’s Marathon, and the Half in DC some mad mad props. So, as we crossed the finish line on Pennsylvania Ave, some handsome young men in tuxedos (tuxedos!) handed us our finishers medals, which were those little Tiffany tags. We moved through a little further into a super efficient system for us to pick up our finisher’s tees. And the coolest part? All the vendors that had been crammed into that tiny, miserable expo the day before? Were set up on this big open park. Women were getting $10 Paul Mitchell haircuts, which was pretty brillz considering all of our hairs were jacked up from running around for 13 miles. Nuun was assisting us to slam some Nuun shots to re-hydrate and re-electrolyte. And the absolute best part was bareMinerals was set up out there. So I have this disgusting thing that happens where I’ve got salt that cakes on my face after I run. So this wonderful woman at the bareMinerals tent gave me two pouches of face wash, and lotion, and I was able to wash my face, moisturize, and continue looking as sexy as Beyonce as I continued to find friends who were completing the race. I’ve never ran a race that was so intentionally thought out, and once again, if you can snag a lottery spot in one of these races, I so encourage you to do so. They won’t disappoint!
I’ve been living in my car (my new car!) for like the past week. Not like literally, I still have a beautiful little apartment downtown, but I’ve been riding around like a nutjob for days and days. To the point where I actually thought listening to Rush Limbaugh might be an interesting change of pace. UGH WRONG GURL. First I headed home. Then to Winston to take care of some bidness. And finally, I made the 4-hour trek to Washington, DC, and began my weekend. We did a bunch of un-Nike-related things, some of which included eating my weight in delicious food, losing house-keys in a cab, and participating in a super cool Lupus Walk on Saturday morning.
This is one of my best friends, Scott. I stayed with him, and he showed me around beautiful DC. I’m lucky to have a friend like him.
As a side note, I’m completely, madly, deeply in love with Washington, DC. I live in Raleigh. I’ve had a rough relationship with Raleigh. Story time! I moved here for a guy (and for graduate school). The relationship ended disastrously, and here I was, sort of stuck in a city where I knew no one. So my solution was to take a job in Pennsylvania, attempt to transfer to Pitt to finish my graduate studies, and move on with my life. But my mom, whom I typically don’t listen to (do us kids ever listen?), encouraged me to stick it out. “You can’t run away from your problems. Everywhere I go, there I am. Do you know what that means?” Ugh. She was right. So I came back. Made a few more friends, and began to find my place here. I still have days where I’m not sure about the city, where I’m not sure if I fit it in. The loudness of New York never left me. I teach Zumba. I speak like Hilary Banks, but I wear my locs long and natural. I think I confuse people. So I’m just not sure. So you can imagine my heartbeat going a-flutter when I came to a city where the black girls look like me. Wear bright colors and long Senegalese twists. They ride bikes. They love dogs. Everyone runs. I love it!
This is the brunch spot we hit after the Lupus Walk. The food was incredible. I fear, if I ever moved to DC, I’d become 500 pounds.
So Saturday afternoon, we metroed and hoofed over to Georgetown, where packet pickup was held. The line? Let’s not talk about it. But it moved quickly and pretty smoothly. The expo, held in a tent in Georgetown, could have been super cool, but it was hot, and I don’t do well in small, hot, ill-ventilated tents with everyones breath just like, combining in the same space. I find that absolutely foul, and I think it could have been done better, and in a bigger space. But everything else? Cool as heck.
Nike erected this like, street-length billboard with all of our names on it. So 15,000 women’s names were plastered in Georgetown, and my name was one of them. Super cool to see. And it was doubly cool to see a bunch of women with a smile of their faces. Score 1 for Nike for making us feel special.
My name came riiiight at the end, so it was split in two pieces. But Cherisse (my guh-ment name) definitely ran!
Race day. I metroed down to Pennsylvania Avenue, where the start line was. Pre-race chatter makes me nervous, so I put my headphones in, and listened to Gustavo Lima sing me a “Balada” while women buzzed around me, scrambling to get into their pace groups. The way pace groups were done was pretty sweet too. We were identified by these colored bracelets which identified our pace, and getting into corrals was super smooth. I glided into my pace group, and hunkered down to start to run for a long time. My first bought of tears during the race? When the National Anthem was sung. I’m not a stupid emotional idiot either, I saw other women beginning to tear up. It was sung beautifully, and it was a lot of our first races since Boston. We felt…united? The race started. And I became emotional again when I realized the coolness, and the gravity of 15,000 women (and a few guys), running down the streets of the District, with the Capitol building as a backdrop. As we ran, Nike had organized cool bands. A go-go band in the tunnel. Marching bands. A Chinese New Year Themed parade. Beautiful, inspirational signs. A river. It was so beautiful that I marveled a number of times at how lucky I’d been to get into the lottery for this race. And I could not stop smiling.
Here’s where I screwed up, though. I’d wanted to do well in the race, even though I’d lied and told everyone I was just going to take this one nice and easy. I’m competitive by nature, and I’m not sure why I said that. But in my head, I wanted to break 2 hours. So I’d assumed that this race would be like a small-town race, just like how it was in Raleigh. But 15,000 women and 1,200 are totally different. And my plan to start at the back of my pace group and work my way up was a profoundly stupid one. After 3 slow miles, I realized that I’d have to do some work to make it to the finish line in under two hours. So I had to push. And push. And push some more to continue hitting under 9 minute miles to make it to that finish line. So I talked myself through about 10 super fast miles. I told myself I could eat Nutella. I told myself I could go to the medical tent and get hydrated. I told myself I could eat bread. I told myself that people were counting on me. And I did it. 1:59:57, with my fastest mile being a 7:36 around mile 12, when I saw a clock and got a little nervous that I wouldn’t make it. I’m sore as heck from running like I stole things.
My final verdict on the Nike Women’s Half Marathon? Worth it. A stellar race. My only complaint is that the expo was in a frighteningly small space. It was gross in there. But women. The weather. The scenery. The history of DC just existing all around us? Pure magic. So….
What’s our finishers gift?
GURRRRLL let me tell you.
That’s Tiffany babe. They gave us a Tiffany necklace. Handsome boys gave us a Tiffany necklace.
And are you wondering what 15,000 beautiful women look like?
Y’all missed me? I bet. I’m the friggin brightest spot in your day, right? So I was at the Inaugural Nike Women’s Half Marathon in DC, which I will tell you awllll about later. Give you a little preview though, it was good!
So onto the stuff.
I pulled my laundry out, pre-race, and LOOK just LOOK, look,at what I found! One of the hooks broke off of my Juno, the best bra ever, leaving me fairly braless for my race. Whatever, I made it work.
The story behind the bra? This bra really kind of changed things for me. So mid grad school, I was hired to teach Zumba at the best place in the whole world, a little slice of heaven, Camp Pocono Trails, a weight loss camp nestled in the Poconos. (If you ever watched “Fat Camp” on MTV, you’ve seen where we were). I felt so weird about my body. I wasn’t in great shape, and my boobs (sorry boys) were the bane of my existence. My mother, whom I swore was so wrong, convinced me not to go for a reduction, citing that “You’re reading all those magazines and Rihanna looks like a little boy. Is that who you want to look like?!?!” A roommate of mine who was endowed similarly told me to go to Omega, and get this bra. It was the first bra I’d ever found for girls like me, with a large chest, that would protect, compress, and not make me feel like a big fool, flopping down the street, as I struggled to get on the health train.
The bra took me through that summer. It traveled with me to classes, certifications, licensures. It ran down the street with me shirtless, making sure nothing fell out of place. I sweated. I doubted. I accomplished. The bra is actually a little big, beacause I did’t by a new when I lost a few pounds. And now, I think it’s time to let the bra go. Bras shouldn’t see a birthday, and this guy saw three. So RIP, Juno. I’m not ready to throw it out yet. Should I have it framed?
Overactive Blogger 