Let me be clear. I abhor, 100% abhor fast food. I work as a fitness instructor, and fast food, in mass quantities, does terrible things to the human body. That said, it is possible to eat okay when you’re on the road, and we’ll get to that eventually. But for now…
I would be a lying sack of poo if I were to tell you I wasn’t curious when, just before Lent (say hello to this former Catholic!) McDonald’s launched something that sounded so horrifying, that I just couldn’t pass it up. So for this years Lenten promises, you not only have the Filet-o-Fish (the square of fish doused in a dollop of tarter and blown with a square of out-of-place American cheese), but you have McDonald’s Fish McBites to choose from as well! You lucky stiff!
I have not seen in the inside of McDonald’s for years. But rest assured, nothing has changed. It still smells weird. You still order, wait 10 years for them to cook your fries, and look on with feigned indifference as the employees laugh and joke just a little too close for your liking to your food. The other patrons look at you with curiosity, as they wonder why a skinny, sweaty, 5’8″ girl still wearing gym tech fabrics is in McDonald’s. And you’ll still peek in the back so you can make sure no one is licking your food before they box it up.
So I ordered the Fish McBites. I ordered fries to make this a really healthy night.
And with a little apprehension, I dug in.
The bad news:
They taste like fish sticks. If you’re not 5, this can be extremely off-putting.
Calorically speaking, don’t wasted your calories on this combo. In life, there are some other fish options that are way tastier, and with way more nutritional value. Get your Omega-3s elsewhere.
After eating legit fries for a while, these fries are nowhere near as good as a nice steak fry or a sweet potato fry from a pub. Super disappointing.
The good news:
The song that they advertise these with is still hawt. (“Fishay fishaaaay”)
They come in a box. Which I feel is neat.
The fish actually on the inside of the breading is decent, for MacDoh-quality fish.
The Verdict?
If you’re Catholic, and you eat Fish on Fridays during Lent, skip em. They’re just not that good for being a bajillion calories. You want a similar quality fish stick? Trust the Gorton’s Fisherman, and pop them thangs in the oven. Truthfully, it’s probably a terrible idea to be bangin with fast food, and especially fast food seafood. Do a tuna over some salad, and you, and your tummy, will be much happier.
About 3 days after I completed my marathon, an awful awful feeling started creeping in.
Days 1 and 2 were filled with a little bit of disbelief. Except for the profound ache in my quads, I wasn’t quite sure I’d done it.
And then came the postpartum depression.
Literally, I was overwhelmed by this sense that I could have done better. That I, and my race time, was a disappointment to friends and family. That I hadn’t worked hard enough initially, and that’s why I hadn’t pulled an Olympian time. I started to feel antsy. That I immediately needed to sign up for something else, to begin training, and to “redeem” myself in a sense.
I explained this to Yoga Kerri a few days later at work, and she, as well as a few others, explained that the race was about me, and not anyone else. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thought. My time was nothing to sniff at. I’d done it. I’d enjoyed the experience. And I wanted to do it again, and if I did it better (and one day qualified for Boston and then had a really sweet jacket to proudly wear about as people marveled about my beauty and strength), then so be it.
I don’t know who I was comparing myself to. But I have a lot to be proud of.
I finished a marathon
I ran the entire time, the way I wanted to
I felt relatively good the entire time
I created a training plan, and stuck to it
I’d gladly do it again
So raise your glass (of low-cal Gatorade), and cheers to not comparing yourself to anyone else. Do you!
There’s probably nothing a runner loves more than his or her dog. We may love beer and bread. But the dogs come way first.
And we’re not talking strays. Vicious creatures not on their leashes, bound to bite at our Achilles tendons. We’re talking about those dogs that are just there for you. They smile. They’re happy. They make life better to deal with. These our our running partners. Our best friends. So without further ado? Our four-legged (or sometimes less) best friends!
Mini Armour
Mini Armour. Let me preface this story by saying that my mother is afraid of dogs. Like deathly, terribly afraid. One day, my senior year in high school, my mom had dropped us off to Wal-Mart to pick something up. She called me on my flip phone, (it was 2005) and I expected for it to be for her to tell me something she’d forgotten about. She just told us to come outside. We went outside, and there in my mom’s lap, was Mini Armour, the cutest friggin thing we’d ever seen. Apparently, she’d been living with some college students who couldn’t keep her, and Mother and Mini took one look at each other, and they couldn’t live without one another. She is a Chihuahua mix (she only weighs about 12 or 13 pounds), and she’s one of the best guard dogs you will ever have. She is currently studying for her GED equivalent (since she was living out on the streets), she loves people food (no matter what it is), and she loves candy. Her main hang-up? She loves to run away. You open the door, and she will run for miles. Eventually, she will come back, but this naughty pup is totally game for whatever. (Once ate donuts from Dunkin off of the dining room table while we were at church and lived to tell the tale).
Honey Swanson
Honey Swanson. Workout dogs are saints. They wait for you all day. You come home, and you’re doing a headstand on the yoga mat. And they’re all “huh?!”. Honey is a lovely lady, and “she always stays by my side whenever I do at-home workouts. She never fails to jump on me when I try to do ab work!”
Chip Nam
Chip Nam. Chip is a very very special doggy, because he’s helping his Mama fight off cancer. That’s right, Chip has powers! Chip is an old man, his Mama says, but he hasn’t quite come to terms with his age. “He loves cuddling, basking in the sun, and long walks on the beach.” Chip doesn’t like water though. Like many of our dog pals, Chip enjoys the challenge of stealing food off the table when no one’s watching. Naughty Chip!
Lukas Gomez
Lukas Gomez. Are you dead at how cute this guy is? He’s not only ridiculously good-looking, but he’s studying Poodle Studies at NCSU! Wolfpack! Apparently, he likes Popsicles as well. (His Mama likes taking cycling classes!)
Dash Gomez
Dash Gomez. Dash took his education more seriously. Dash is very pensive and studying Biology at NCSU. Dash has been helping me with my Punnet Squares after school. Thanks bud! But Dash isn’t all just biology and serious times. Dash loves to play outside on sunny days (omg look at that tongue)…
Dash Gomez
And she likes to play fetch! Look at her fetch sweater!
Now finally Bragg…
Bragg Gomez
Bragg Gomez. North Carolina is home to none other than Fort Bragg. Take a second and thank your vets for their service. Now Bragg? Bragg studied political science at Cal B and his favorite past time is fetching the ball. His favorite treat is liver treats by Biljac (available at Petsmart).
Ash Zelin
Ash Zelin. Ash is a fine Jewish dog. He loves to smile for the camera (duh). From his mama? “This is my parents’ dog, Ash. She is 8.5 years old, lives in Charlotte, NC, and LOVES to chase squirrels, going for long walks, and going buh-byes in the car. She is a happy mutt and will gladly smile at anyone willing to scratch her behind her ears. She was my “replacement” when I moved away to college, and I love her dearly. As a puppy, she managed to eat 2 pounds of Hershey kisses, wrappers and all, and not get sick. She has also been known to destroy boxes of tampons, eat full tubes of toothpaste, and hide peanut-butter flavored power bars in her crate. Ash just finished radiation for a malignant tumor in her throat and is now cancer-free, hopefully for the rest of her life. We are very excited to get to spend more time with her”
The best thing about Ash? Ash once relieved tampons from their box and gleefully threw them about until Mamas and Daddys came home. But he’s too cute to be angry with! How can you be mad at that smile?
Mini Armour
It’s my lady, Mini again! Mini, while she’s not studying for her GED equivalent and eating people food, loves to lay in the sunny spots all around the house. Sometimes she will even sit on the fireplace hearth and warm her little tush up in the winter!
Nolon Kepley
The Kepleys! This little monster is Nolan 🙂
Nolon and Ana Kepley
And Nolan with his sister, Ana.
Nolon Kepley (and Mel!)
The flash was too bright for him to see…
Nolon Kepley (Kisses!)
Ready? “Nolon is my stand-up guy. He is BIG, goofy, loving, and wants NOTHING more than to be given every second of your most undying attentions…well, except for maybe food. But don’t fret! He will swallow his food whole in record time, every time. Although he is quite the looker and LOVES people, he isn’t so friendly with other dogs Unless of course, we make them a part of our pack! All it takes is a brief introduction and a good walk together and mi casa es su casa! In short, guys if you want a guaranteed lady’s number gettin’ ratio of at least 1 per hour, he’s for rent and I recommend downtown. Ladies, if you need a GREAT cuddler and protector, his mother could use a break.
Ana is my go-to bitch (pun intended). She is beautiful, smart, quirky, independent, and protective. She loves the outdoors and just laying around with her loved ones. Now that I think of it, she is a lot like ME! She is the leash-less walker who usually listens impeccably but every now and again exhibits her “I’ll do what I want” qualities.” She would be the perfect companion for hiking with ANYONE, loves to swim and play fetch, and makes sure that no dog, even Nolon, gets too close to her Mamma.”
Brewer Shawty
Brewer Shawty. His name is cool right? It’s super cool cause Brewer likes to ‘brew’ beer with his daddy, Matt.
Brewer Shawty
Brewer joined the Shawty fam this past January. Mom says he’s been a little adventure ever since! His hobbies include brewing beer with daddy Matt, tearing up plush toys (especially ducks), chasing birds (real ones), and going on lots of long walks. He also likes to snuggle and sit in laps whenever gets the chance.
Toby Emery
Toby. Toby Emery! Look at those ears, darling! So Toby was one of the best characters on The Office, even though Michael was terrible to him, and Pam never realized that he had a crush on her. Office aside, Toby Emery, is a very special pup. Mama and Daddy are very smart, and are putting Toby on the path to a long and lush relationship with education. Lauren didn’t tell me where he might me going to college, but my feeling is is that Toby is an Ivy Leaguer. I mean look at those ears!
Toby Rundown: (I have to leave it the way his Mom sent it, because it was so organized and cute, I can’t stand it).
Birthday: March 14th, 2012
Breed: Pembroke Welsh Corgi
Favorite workouts: walks with the rents, chasing the cat, and “herding” the other dogs at the dog park.
With his little legs, Toby is not the optimal long distance running companion, but he is great at short sprints!
Troll Morton-Dunn
Troll. Now this is the type of dog I die over. Look at his coloring! Don’t you just want to steal him and take him home! “This little man goes by Troll. He enjoys sleeping on anything that is soft, running frenzied laps around our apartment in five-minute intervals, making pig noises and playing with his KONG bone. We rescued Troll about five months ago. He is a big-hearted pup and we could not be happier that he is part of our family.”
Soloman Woods
King Solomon Woods IV. This handsome fellow has an equally handsome and nice daddy! Solomon is a 2-year-old Dachshund/German Shepard mix. He has BA in Drama, and he graduated early from Solid Bone University. Is that an online Uni?
And you guys get one last gander at the joi de ma vie, c’est Mini!
Mini Armour
I think animals are one of the best parts of life. So take some time, surf our favorite pets, and if you’re able, head over to PetFinder to make a new addition to your family!
I won’t lie to you and tell you I felt (physically) like a million bucks after. In fact, the day after, I felt quite horrid. Not like anything was hurt, I’ll-never-walk-again horrid, but like, quads were like ::side eye:: hips were like what in the world?!
Three days out and I feel great. I did a little walk/jog thing on the treadmill last night to get the juices flowing. I’m ready for a really short, easy run today, and nothing more. But I’m so ready to sign up for another. SO ready. So ready to do better with my time. So ready to plan out better. So ready to take an extra day off work so I can actually enjoy the beer they give you after. So ready to bring a few more friends and let them get addicted to it (in a good way) like I am! So ready for better weather (here’s hoping) for the next one!
So I’m not sure when. But soonish. I’d like to take on this beast again.
Let me back it up. So along with all of these absolutely horrifying stories of school shootings, comes the irritating habit of every television personality, person with a Facebook account, or local news channels pointing the finger at everything to blame, because it’s too much work to think about a culmination of factors, both societal and personal, have made this kid do what he’s done.
And antidepressants have taken the fall far too many times for my liking.
I was sort of an anxious child. And sort of is a the under exaggeration of the century. Little things would completely send me into a tailspin. I cried and flopped around like a fool every time our family dog would run away, once, only for moments until my mom found her destroying a neighbors wading pool. I once hyperventilated so badly the fire trucks had to be called to like, make sure I wasn’t going to die right then and there. It’s kind of why I love animals, dogs in particular. Their presence is calming to me. Chihuahuas because they’re anxious like I am. They’re thin, they’re little, they shake when they get scared. They’re also ridiculously smiley, and in general, really good natured. I’m like that chick in ‘7 Pounds,’ with the Great Dane? They have heart problems, she had heart problems, it all worked out.
So when I graduated undergrad in 2008, I was struggling. I was in the wrong relationship. I was graduating. I had no money. I was kinda fat. I was to be starting graduate school with no money and no place to live. It was a lot for a naturally anxious kid to handle! And I hadn’t discovered working out and taking care of myself yet. I had this perpetual lump in my throat. It was a hot sizzling mess.
Everything came to a head for me when, after a day of fun visiting art museums and things with aforementioned boy, I came home, and just cried into his lap. I didn’t know what it was, or why, but the tears just kept rolling. I’m sure the poor thing was really confused, he wasn’t any sort of trained therapist, and I wasn’t either, yet. Eventually, after a few of these crying jags, I paid a visit to a doctor, who prescribed me Celexa. And it was about a year, between the Celexa, the loss of about 40ish pounds, Zumba, running, yoga, burning sage, and not taking everything quite so seriously, that I began to feel like the person who was hidden beneath layers and layers and layers of depression-smog.
Did I turn violent and postal after I started Celexa? No, quite the opposite. Do most people on antidepressants? Nope. The vast majority of us are so ridiculously normal, you would never suspect us for being crazy. (I kid, I kid! We’re not nuts!)
Like I said before, I’m a little sick of antidepressants taking the fall. Beecause.
1. If you’ve been incorrectly prescribed antidepressants, like if you’re actually bipolar and you’ve been misdiagnosed as being depressed, that’s when bad things happen. Not when normal folks, with a mild case, take their meds like they’re supposed to.
2. They do a lot of good things for a lot of people. I’m awesome. I’m happy. I’m chipper. And it’s not just the Celexa, but it certainly helps.
3. Don’t be a jerk. If you’ve never taken them, don’t talk about them. You never know who you’re sitting next to, and you could be insulting a loooot of people. I’m super happy for you that you were able to beat your situation by meditating and breathing, but some of us chose an alternate route, and you should respect that.
Now, I’m off to supplement my lifestyle with some yoga before this marathon! xoxo, ❤
I have gotten this question at least once a week from readers and customers combined.
For some unholy reason, folks have been washed into thinking that black toenails, or toenails that fall off are just a part of life when you’re running a marathon. Or a half. Or in some freaky cases, every time you do a long run.
So let’s put this thing in reverse. When is it normal for your toenails to fall off? The first answer is never. Second, if you’ve ever slammed your toe in a door, or had it run over by some sort of vehicle before, usually the toenail that takes the biggest impact will turn black and eventually fall off. It sounds hideous because it actually is.
So why would it make any sense that this should happen when you’re running long distances?
If you’re running in a shoe that’s too small, and a LOT of you are unwittingly doing just that, you may feel fine for a 3, 4, or even 5 mile run. But do much more than that, and your feet, which will naturally swell as you pound them for miles and miles (increased blood flow to that extremity), will cause the toenail of the longest toe to start hitting the end of that shoe. It sometimes will start as a toenail just getting a little sore. And in a longer run situation, say a half-marathon, the toenail, which has repeatedly been slammed into the end of the shoe, will sometimes turn black, and fall off. I’ve seen it happen to more than one toe, as well.
Bottom line, a lot of you are wearing shoes that are too small, and running around and thinking that it’s normal for your feet to have no breathing room.
The solution? Next time you’re in for a shoe fitting, or next time you’re in a store with a Brannock device, (one of the foot measurey things), measure your foot. That is your dress shoe size. So for driving shoes, heels, wedges, and flats, you may wear that size because you’re not going to run a marathon in a pair of leopard ballet flats. Then go up a half to a full size for your running shoes. The way to measure if you’ve done it right? Strap those running shoes on, and sitting in a chair, firmly tap your heels on the ground. Then, stand up, bend over, and SHAKE DAT THANG. Nope, kidding. Bend over, and feel how much space there is between your longest toe and the end of your shoe. You should have a thumb to half a thumbs width, and you should be able to easily curl your toes over with no difficulty. Finally, don’t be dumb and get a shoe that’s like 8 sizes too huge here. If you’re sloshing all over, the shoe is too large, and you need to reel it in.
So the final answer? It is not normal for you to be getting sore black toenails after a long run or a race, and if you are, it’s time to reevaluate what the heck you’re wearing on your feet.
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.
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!
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!
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.
I would like to pretend I am. I go nonstop. I teach classes, I go to work, I go for a run, I shower, and do it again and again and again. Part of the reason for that is that one of my deepest fears related to working out is that if I skip a few days, that I will start to hate working out, and I will just sit on the couch all day and drink cokes and forget all about taking care of myself. I know that’s not reasonable, or rational, but I just think about how I was in college (watching America’s Next Top Model Marathons for days on end while drinking a huge coke), and my blood runs cold.
“I’m young,” I tell myself, “I can slow down when my body won’t let me do this anymore!” But this sort of thinking can lead to overtraining, injuries, lengthier recovery times, and general malaise. But not to me, right, because I’m superwoman? (Not so).
All of last week was absolutely brutal, as far as the weather was concerned. Morning temperatures were regularly below freezing, and in the span of about a week, good old North Carolina got not one, but two big(ish) weather events. I was also nursing a lingering cold throughout the week that wasn’t quite enough to actually be classified as sickness, but enough for me to pop a few daytime cold medications containing guaifenesin and pseudoephedrine. Relieved my congestion, but didn’t do a whole lot for that general, energy-sucked feeling I had. (Also, for you fitness folks, those colds meds dehydrate you, so be careful when you’re taking those).
But the show must go on! I ran, I taught Zumba, and did my thing for the week. Finally, on Saturday, it caught up with me. I ate a teeny bit of something before I went to teach Zumba (probably not quite enough), and went down the the gym. Throughout class, I just kept getting hotter and hotter. I rolled my pant legs up, and removed a layer from the top. Still sweating like a pig. Hm. Oh well! Continued dancing. The second to last song starts, and all of a sudden, it hit me. I’m going to faint in front of this entire class. And my nose may bleed when I hit my head in front of the entire class. And planes will crash, and the electronic grid will shut down, and Beyonce will lip synch at the Superbowl. I’m making this a tad more dramatic than it is, but if you know me, that’s not completely shocking. But my thought is, “I’m going to fall in front of the class, and we can’t let that happen.” So I eased myself to the ground, and THEN passed out. Luckily, there was a doctor in the class, who sent someone for some gum and some Gatorade, checked my pulse, and sat with me until I was able to shake off the deep-seated embarrassment I was now feeling.
As a somewhat hysterical side note, it was close to the end of class, and when I regained my senses, I was still wearing the mic I wear to teach class. So I turned my head, which was now resting comfortably on the floor, and announced to the class, “I’m sorry! I’ve had a cold this week and I’m a little dehydrated! But I will see you ladies same time next week!” ::insert 40 pairs of horrified/terrified eyes staring back on me here.
So the moral of the story is: chill out! And I’m the first one who could benefit from that advice. Yoga Kerri advised me, saying that you’re allowed to miss a long run and not have it mess up your entire marathon/life. I’m not quite there yet, but I’m getting there, especially after that scary little blip on the radar. I’ve been afforded the energy where generally, I can just go and go and go, but Saturday reminded me, that I’m a human, and that rest, especially on an off week where you’re sick and not feeling great, is not against the law.
Overactive Blogger 