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Post-pregnancy rant.

| cheriarmour
KK
Hey, I’ll give her kudos on the fact that they didn’t retouch this photo. But I love you Kourt, don’t contribute to the pressure some new moms to feel to drop the weight in like 4 weeks.

I logged onto Perez (my guilty pleasure) and saw my girl, Kourtney on the top of the page.  I read the headline, and my face fell.

Let’s back it up.  I have never been pregnant.  I’m something of a late bloomer and kids are not yet on the horizon.  Maybe some day.  But my favorite friends are starting to have babies and from this, some issues have arisen.  Of course, the normal kid stuff (not sleeping, bickering with your spouse, adjusting to kid life), but the body confidence stuff that comes with a changing body seems to be a really prevalent one.

It’s already not easy being a girl.  Boys are allowed to be a lit bit chubby growing up and still get really pretty girls and have friends.  If you’re a chubby lady, people are absolutely ruthless.  And it doesn’t stop if you work in fitness, like I do.  I’m pretty fit and healthy, but I work around bunches of gorgeous and fit men and women.  It’s easy to fall into the trap of comparing yourself to everyone around you, especially when, as a woman, the pressure to be thin (not too thin) yet muscular (but not too muscular), is huge.  And it seems to multiply 10-fold once you get pregnant.

So now that all the teen hearthrobs have grown up and are pregnant with families and kids, Hollywood has started to do this absolutely bizarre thing where they put this insurmountable pressure on new moms by publishing this…

JSOr this…

Mariah

 

Or this…

Kendra

::sigh:: She’s still holding like a newborn in this one.  That nugget looks like he was born 10 seconds ago.

I’m not saying that after a reasonable amount of time, a strong, healthy body isn’t attainable after kids.  (Look at P!nk, or Mel B!  They took some time, and they’re not stick thin, but they’re strong and healthy!)  But posting some of these pictures with these absolutely sensational headlines puts an unreal amount of pressure on new moms.  And it’s not fair.  Your confidence may already be a little thin as a new mom.  You’re not getting enough sleep, you may be nursing, you’re still incontinent, you feel like you don’t even have time to shower, and you’re expected to magically drop the baby weight before you’re even cleared to exercise?  That’s not right.

To all my pregs that read, or my new moms.  Chill.  You’re not getting any pressure from over here, in my corner. You work out when you can work out.  You eat as well as possible and you continue exercising during pregnancy.  And when you feel ready, and not a second before, is when you ease back into the groove.  You will wear those jeans. You will wear that suit.  But only when you’re ready to.  And one last words of advice, hot pregnant and recently post-pregnant mamas.  Don’t view your fitness progress (after you’ve been cleared of course) as getting your old body back.  Just look forward.  Keep looking forward, don’t look at those nasty magazines, and you will be feeling great in no time!

Q: You’re running a marathon….so why don’t you ever run 26.2 miles in your training?

| cheriarmour

I feel like I’ve been asked this question about a bazillion times since I started this marathon training thing.  I may have even wondered it myself prior to buckling down and doing the training.

But the training involves me running about 4 times a week, one long run, and then 3 others.  The long runs never go over 20 miles, and I just did my 20-miler last week.  And folks seem beyond puzzled.  So we chatted about it at work.  I did my research.  And I bring to you the answer.

I don’t really know.  That’s just what the training told me to do so I did it.

Landreth
Chilly day here in Raleigh! This is the Asics Landreth. Great shoe, right? Well it’s SO great that they’ve decided to discontinue it. ::side eye:: As far as a shoe family, it fits right in with the Brooks Ghost, the Saucony Ride, the Nike Pegasus, and the Adidas Glide as far as feel/shape/the fact that’ it’s neutral. And it’s yellow!

Sike.  So you can search high and low for marathon training programs.  Generally, most will be something like mine.  Some of the more advanced programs, for folks who may be more experienced and more elite may call for you to do maybe two 20-milers in the course of training.  But I’d be surprised if you could find a legitimate training program that would tell you to run over 22 miles.  Here’s why.  For one, there’s no training for 26.2 miles quite like a marathon.  Second, and this is coming from pretty seasoned pros, 20 miles is all well and good.  Much more than that for a simple training run, and you are shredding your body and legs.  And your body will need a long long time to recover from that.  So the deal is, if you’re training along with me for a marathon, follow your training program.  And though it may feel counter intuitive once you begin to taper (OMG, my mileage is decreasing?!), there’s a method to the madness.  On race day, you’re supposed to be rested, refreshed, and raring to go.  And the only way you do that is to get your super long runs out of the way about a month out, and then starting to let your body rest, heal, and hydrate for the big day.  How do you prepare for childbirth?  How do you prepare for your wedding day?  You get ready.  Read the books, do your training, and you talk to people who’ve done it.  Now I hope you guys can deal with the crazy as taper madness begins to descend on my household!

Let’s talk about poop, baybee! Running makes you move!

| cheriarmour

I’m not talking about some chub jiggling.  I’m not talking about the booty bouncing.  I’m talking about p-o-o-p.  I don’t want to say it, so we just have to spell it.  (My mom reads this blog, so we can’t get too graphic, because she will call me and yell.

If you run any sort of distance you know what I’m talking about.  You’re in the groove, and all of a sudden, the urge hits you.  The urge to ::ahem:: evacuate the dance floor, if you will, hits you.  There can be a number of reasons for this.  1, if you’re running in the morning, it’s part of the natural cycle of waking up and getting yourself together.  2, if you eat a little breakfast before you head out, your body wants to move things along!  It’s natural.  3, if you’re completing a long run and you’re taking gels, the combination of sugars and/or caffeine can give you a kick in the gut.  And finally, 4, if you’re racing, sometimes nerves can get the best of you, and set your stuff aflame.

So what do you do when you’re running, and all of a sudden, it hits you?

-In a race?  Hit the port-a-johns. Avoid looking down, make sure your quads are strong, and HOVER. Just hover.  Douse yourself in Purell, and keep on your way.

-My least advisable option is to take an Immodium before a big race. I’m not too big a fan of this option because it freaks me out to artificially plug things up.  Unless you catch the stomach flu and are severely dehydrated before a race, I’d skip this one.

-Before a long run or a race? Hit the throne so you can clean house before you find yourself 15 miles from home with a bewildered look on your face.  Skip the super fibrous veggies just before and clean house in the days leading up to a race or a long run.  Don’t eat weird or exotic (to you) foods just before a long run.

-If you really find yourself upset often, try switching to a non-caffeinated gel.

– Trees. If you’ve ever run a long race, people will regularly leave the course on the nature-y parts.  Don’t look at what they’re doing.  You know what they’re doing.  Don’t peek.  That’s weird.  You can do it too if you find yourself in a pickle.

-Finally. Finally. Finally. Map out the bidnesses in the area that will allow you to use their facilities. Some places (understandably) won’t let you use their restrooms, presumably because they don’t want folks getting dressed/having relations/using Listerine/getting drunk and throwing up in their places.  It’s happened to them before, so they not with it. Coffee shops that you frequent in real life, the YMCA, sandwich shops, or places that you worked in high school usually will be nice about the bathroom stops.  Use them.  Thank the folks who let you use them.  And make sure you frequent and patronize these bidnesses when you’re not running as well so you build a lovely rapport with these owners.

For those of you who live in Raleigh?  I’m working on a database to store those bidness (business) owners who are willing to let us use their facilities, and who might even spare a cup of water on a good day.  Look out for the info!

Why my living room looks like a cheap motel.

| cheriarmour

Motel

(Sorry not running-related. So arrest me!) Instead of going out to socialize with friends on a Friday night like any normal 25-year-old would, I found myself engaging in my latest passion, burning candles, dusting, and finishing off the big show by vacuuming. I could literally hear drunk kids wandering around outside, but the thought of wandering around in the cold really didn’t appeal to me in the slightest. So I was trying to get a jelly donut stain off my slip cover for my couch (ugh, just don’t ask), when I remembered, my couch is a pull-out!

Generally pull-out couches are tacky and a pain in the butt to move because they’re SO heavy, that even when you try and sell them on Craigslist, normal people won’t come pick them up. But, my connection to pull-out couches spans miles and memories.

So when I was a kid, we lived in this tiny house in Long Island. And my mother has decent decorator’s sense now, but in the 90s we had this horrific set of furniture that was sort of fern and beach themed? Like it was this heavy heavy wood material, again too heavy for anyone to want to really move, and the pattern was this leafy business. I’m not sure how we acquired it or why we had it.  (As an aside, that heavy furniture would later save our lives when, after we moved to North Carolina, we were almost killed by a distracted driver who drove through our living room). I swear to you, I’m not making a word of this up.  Anyhoo, as a special treat like on some Friday night, my mom let us (and it just would’ve been me and Deb, Kimmy would probably have been too little, and my brother wasn’t born yet), pull out the bed from this terrible couch and have a sleepover party! Seriously, as a kid, this was just as good as getting to stay in a hotel, without bedbugs or germs!

So to tie it all back in, I was cleaning, remembered that the couch pulled out, and set up for the most epic pull-out couch hotel party of life. Unfortunately, the only clean sheets I had didn’t match, and for some reason, the bedspread is Africa themed. Don’t judge.  Rather, turn your living room into a sleepover party and see if you don’t wake up the happiest camper in the world!

Take your cigs and get off the dang sidewalk!

| cheriarmour

I’m not one of those people who think that all cigarette smokers should burn in hell for all eternity.  Like all of us, they too have a weakness, and nicotine is a bad mamma jamma to escape from.  However.  Let me complain about some of you cigarette smokers for a second.  (Not all of yous, most are very lovely folks).

I actually feel bad when I see you guys huddled next to a freezing cold building.  I’m sure that sucks.  But I appreciate you abiding by the law and going to the designated area so I don’t have to breathe it in.  How-friggin-ever.  There are a few of you that I need to talk to.

Those of you who huddle in large masses in front of the coffee shops with your judgey eyes and your cigs, creating a Hiroshima-sized mushroom of smoke.  Those of you who walk down the middle, the middle, the MIDDLE of the sidewalk and ::Kim Richards puff:: puff away and only turn to blow smoke right in my face, after trailing it into my lungs for a quarter of a mile.  And finally, the guy who was jogging down Blount Street today with a Black & Mild  whilst trying to holla as I wrapped up my run.  Please get it together.  Get. It. Together.

I don’t judge you for smoking.  I understand.  You smoke, and I would spend my last $3 on nail polish if it came down to it.  We all have our things.  But please respect the fact that some of us are not interested in sharing your smoke.  If you’re smoking on the sidewalk, have some decency and cig it down by your thigh so at least I know you have some respect for the other people using the shared space.  If you’re smoking outside of a building, move away from the door so that folks inside the establishment aren’t all, “EW what is that smell!”.  And finally.  Finally. Finally.  If you’re in a place where people are running.  Running by themselves, running with their dogs, or most of all, running with their kids (stroller), just nix the cig until you get to a good spot where you won’t be harming anyone.

20 Miles Today

Image | | cheriarmour

20 Miles Today

Never in a hundred million years would I think that I would be running around in the cold for 20 miles. But I did it. At 6am it was me, Kathy Griffin’s autobiography (which literally had me falling over laughing at one point), some fairly caffeine-free nutrition, and a meet up toward the end for a few miles with my work bud, Jenny. And I did it! And I don’t feel like dying. I’d say all-around, 20 was a success. Now bring on the taper-madness! (PS I had a Roctane left over at the end, so that’s going to be my lucky gel from now on.)

Went to Food Lion today…

| cheriarmour

And you know, no story that begins this way ends well.  (And let’s keep in mind that Food Lion has launched a new brand strategy.  Lower prices, better shopping experience,  and revamped produce are supposed to be a part of this. Well…)

Let me back up.  I skipped my grocery shopping on my usual Sunday because Deb was over, and I waited til today, when I really had no food left, to do it.  I’m not a poor person, it would be a lie to say I was.  But I’m a recent graduate who’s on a fairly tight budget.  I usually do my grocery shopping at Super Target, and I save the special stuff for Harris Teeter and Whole Foods.   I say “special stuff” to mean my vegetarian supplies.  I’ve been a vegetarian for like 5 or 6 years, after I went to Elon and was not at all impressed by the quality of the meat they served in the dining halls.  No shade, Elon was totally great otherwise, but I saw some questionable meat items come through those dining halls.  Anyhoo, I drink a lot of smoothies and eat some tofu-type things that require those special trips.  At any rate, I thought I’d head down to Food Lion to save a few bucks on groceries.  Part of my thing with being a grown-up is actually packing my lunch to save some money.  (Plus it makes lunchtime at work so exciting when you know you cooked something delish that all your coworkers can be jealous of.) I went, armed with a list, and a resolve to get all the stuff I needed for another of my famous crock pot creation of the week.

First mistake?  I didn’t know where the closest Food Lion was, so I GPSed it.  The GPS took me to an unsavory part of town.  No problem, I can blend!

Food Lion

I went straight for the dairy to find my favorite brand of Greek yogurt, Fage (with the total split cup girl!). No Fage. Okay.  My eager attitude is beginning to dwindle.  But my resolve would not be tarnished!

I headed over to the soup aisle to grab some things for my crockpot.  Some coconut gel stuff in particular.  Couldn’t find it, and asked a gentleman in a uniform where to find it.

Me: Excuse me, where could I find the coconut cream canned stuff?

Food Lion Guy: ::finishes his text conversation:: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Finally, I headed over to produce.  Saw some tumbleweeds blowing through, some floppy looking potatoes, and some sad-looking apples.  I poked down the snack aisle to see what the Oreo aisle is looking like, however?  And there were so many varieties of Oreo, one called a “mega-stuf”, that I was stunned that I’d never heard of!  But to find 5 non-rotting Russet Potatoes was a task?! Wth?!

Okay. ::deep breath:: Just because someone is poor, doesn’t mean they need to be relegated to stores that aren’t clean, with poor lighting, poor customer service, and with a wider variety of Pop-Tart and Oreo, than of apple.  The disparity between the poor and the wealthy as far as obesity, high blood pressure, hypertension, Type II Diabetes, and heart disease is concerned is staggering.  And part of the issue is that it seems like folks with a lower socio-economic status aren’t afforded choices.  Check out the produce section of a Harris Teeter, a Whole Foods, or a Trader Joes. There are choices!  And the choices are between fresh, fresher, and maybe, once in a blue moon, a little too ripe.  My point is, folks like me, folks who want to save a few bucks, still deserve a choice when it comes to what we put in our mouths.  I don’t think I will be returning to that Food Lion, however, in the next few days, I will be drafting some constructive comments to the manager, and I hope that my obnoxious letter will even raise some awareness about the fact that people in my tax bracket deserve better as it pertains to our sustenance.

Being nice to a stranger turned out awesome!

| cheriarmour

Sometimes it’s tempting to be a grouchy pain in the butt, but I (and I hope I’m not the only one), sometimes have to remind myself that being a grouchy pain isn’t any fun, and that I need to be sweet, because everyone deserves that.

The other morning, a woman walked into work with a cane, looking to be fit for a pair of sneakers.  We got to chatting on the fit stool, and as it turned out, she’d battled with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS), and she was dealing with a flare-up of sorts, and had been using the cane for a month.  We chatted for a while, because CFS is similar in its manifestation to Fibromyalgia, which my mother has struggled with for years.  So we found her a pair of shoes, and we looked for shirts that would be a nice fabric for her to be able to wear when her CFS was flaring up.  Took like 30 or 40 minutes out of my day, and I thought nothing of it.

As I was helping her find a few things, I’d gotten cold, so I’d pulled a Nike hooded half-zip jacket off the rack, and wore it around while we poked around for some things for her to wear.  She’d complimented the color.

So a few days later, I roll into work, and there was a bag with my name on it.  Inside the bag was a jacket, and a note for the name of a specialist who may be able to help my mom.  And the jacket.  Wow.  Whoa.

hoodie
Sister to my Nike Element Full Zip, this is the Nike Element Hooded Half-Zip. Still warm and fuzzy on the inside, plus an adorable hood you can pull over to protect from a light rain or wind. This one isn’t going to protect you from wind as well as the full-zip, but it seems like it may retain heat just a little bit better.

Beside the fact that the jacket is warm, cute, and has the most adorable little hood thing on top, I’m going to wear this around as a reminder to be nice, even when you don’t feel like it. Not because people will buy you jackets, which is totally cool too, but because clearly, our chat meant enough to this kind lady to return to the store, go out of her way, and take time to put a smile on my face. At any rate, send a lot of good vibes her way, so we can get her back running like she wants to do 🙂

Can I get this off my chest?

| cheriarmour

First off, happy Grammys!  I adore good music.  Absolutely makes the world go round.  Anyhoo!

I try not to complain a ton.  I’m a big Belieber believer in karma.  I think the more you complain, the more bad things happen to you.  If I have a legitimate complaint at a restaurant, I always try to immediately follow it with a compliment somewhere else.  I had the worst experience ever at this filthy Dunkin Donuts on Western Boulevard with a latte, so the following week, I called McDonald’s corporate to compliment Sheila on how friendly she was when she handed me my Diet Dr. Pepper.  Made me feel my karma was in check.

Anyhoo, I say this because I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to blog about this, but Deb and I were talking, and we totally needed to get this off my chest.

Storytime!

SO I work for Fleet Feet Raleigh, and I love my job.  There is rarely a day when I go in when I dread going to work, and I laugh at least hourly there.  I think I was doing something behind our cash wrap about a month ago, and I noticed there was a cute young girl wearing an Elon sweatshirt.  I was like HOLLA!  I love networking with Elon Alumni.  My mistake.  So her father saunters up, carrying a Starbucks in his hand.

Elon Girl’s Dad: YOU WENT TO ELON?!

Me: Yeah!  I loved it!  You guys are so lucky!

Elon Girl’s Dad: Wait a minute. You’re telling me…you paid $100,000 you went to Elon…and you work here? ::looks around disgustedly::

Me: Well….I…I…

For the first time in forever, I was speechless. Blown away that someone could walk into my place of employment, look me up and down, insult me, insult my co-workers, and be okay with it.  It was rude, it was deplorable, and despite what this gentleman seems to think, there’s more than one path to success than going to Elon, immediately becoming CEO of some place, and being rich and fancy.

My sister, Deb, also says she’s had a similar experience at the stock brokerage where she works.  Despite the fact she makes decent money, and has passed the tests necessary to move up in the company, folks have made similarly rude comments about her major, International Comparative Studies, and Korean.  It seems that folks think that if you don’t do exactly what it is that your major entails in life, that you’re a failure.

First off.  Not true.  My dad majored in Physics, and ended up in banking.  My mother studied Nursing and is a stay-at-home mom.  Lilly Ghalichi (of Shahs) is a lawyer by trade, and designs Swimgerie.  Mike Posner went to Duke, studied sociology, and now tunelessly sings, and gets paid millions for it.

Second off.  Mind your dang bidness before you run around making rude, sweeping judgements.  So what, I’m not a lawyer and rich?  I’m rich in life (thank you Nene), and I’m very happy.  I’m not a blight on society (in fact, I might even be the opposite).  So in the words of a tearful emotional scholar, Tyra Banks kiss my fat ass!  ::slaps butt::

Ass