Meet me in St Louie

Every once in a while it’s really nice to get a reminder that you live where you do for a reason. Or in my case, a lot of reasons.

St Louis has its problems, for sure. Racism, classism, neighborhoods crumbling to the ground, violence, etc.

But it has redeeming qualities. Enough to make me not want to leave here. I love this place. It is home.



I’m in a lot of it.

It all started around mile 4.5 of yesterday’s race, and continued to the point where I wanted to sit down and just quit by mile 11. It was brutal.

By far, this was my worst half marathon. By far. I am not pleased with this.

I would recap the thing, but I kind of don’t feel like it’s worth recapping. I’m at a point where I’m not proud of myself, where I’m disappointed with my body and kind of feeling like it’s failed me a little, and I’m absolutely fucking terrified for January now.

Today I am limping. My hip is aching, both achilles tendons are making it difficult to go down stairs, and I am still so tired that all I have been thinking of since I woke up today is getting home and taking a nap.

Right now other people have more confidence in me than I do in myself. GCB has been an incredible support system, and tells me I’ve motivated him to get into running some races (which is the reason I pre-registered both of us for next spring’s Tough Mudder……yes, I’m bitching about a half marathon and am looking to do nearly that distance plus obstacles).

And then there’s Miranda who almost DAILY leading up to my races sends me motivational pictures like this one:

She believes in me more than words fully express, and I will forever be grateful to her for that.

I feel a bit like a masochist right now. I’m miserable with yesterday’s race, yet I have another in (now under) two weeks. I’m looking at races in the future, and I’m still dead set on finishing January’s full marathon.

Even though right now I don’t feel it, I know that I love this. Even though it’s really difficult to remind myself through the popping Advil like candy, this brings me joy. Because I fucking finished it. I wanted to quit over countless miles, and I didn’t.

That right there is something I can be proud of.

And now I have two weeks, then two and a half months, to make my next races better experiences. It will happen.


As a completely unrelated note, but one that should be shouted from the rooftops, the HUGEST of congratulations go to my girl Ali who got engaged on Friday. I’m so beyond thrilled for her!

A wedding? I love weddings!! Drinks all around!!!


This morning I was sitting on the edge of my bed talking to GCB. I didn’t have my contacts in nor my glasses on which meant that I couldn’t really see anything. I told him that I couldn’t even tell if his eyes were open or not, unless he blinked. The following conversation occurred:

Him: Wait, so you can only see movement? Are you like a T-Rex?!?!

Me: No! I don’t have a big head and little arms!!

Him: You ARE like a T-Rex! You run like you have T-Rex arms!!

Me: …….dammit.

You see, months ago our friend and my marathon buddy Stephanie likened herself and me to the dinosaur statues in Forest Park. One day she sent me two picture text messages.

The first:

“This is the angry face I make when I’m running.”

The second:

“This is your idiotic face of joy when you run…”

The thing is, she’s not wrong. Not even a little bit. I grin like a maniac and hold my arms at my sides much like this picture.

Hmmm. I guess I am kind of a T-Rex.

Power of Love

Ok, I’ll be honest. The title has NOTHING to do with anything, except for the fact that the stupid fucking song is in my head. I blame GCB, as this morning he made reference to the fact that I was his lady. OBVIOUSLY I went ahead and started singing at him….that’s right, Celine Dion before 7am…..and NOW the fucking song is STILL STUCK IN MY GODDAMNED HEAD.

Good thing he’s cute.

This picture makes me smile like an idiot

Today is supposed to be Wordless Wednesday. Right now, I am anything but wordless. Not for any bad reason or anything like that. I’m just FULL OF THOUGHTS.

Honestly, I’m always full of thoughts, but some of those are so random, so prime for making you all think I am a lunatic, that I usually keep most of those to myself. Not today.

Random jibberish commencing.

First of all, there’s this:

Awesome, right? My friend Andy has been creating these Faceless Facebook designs, and this is the one he did of me. It’s coming from this picture: 

I absolutely love it. Seriously. He blows me away on a regular basis with his talent.
Not too long ago, my friend Sarah (who works for the Girl Scouts) offered me a chance to get cookies for $1.50 a box. I got ten boxes of Thin Mints. They’re almost gone. Today is the rungriest day I’ve had in a while, and I am working my way through killing the last sleeve of them I have here. My boss thought it was a great idea to tell me that lean proteins would probably be better for me than the sugar. I had to hold myself back from stabbing him in the throat. Maybe it’s that lately my patience at work has been minimal, but for some reason this just bugs me. Like dude? I’m an athlete. I fucking KNOW that protein would be better for me. I also know that if I ate my lunch now, I would be STARVING by the time I got home, and I have a six mile run on my agenda. Being that hungry with that kind of run ahead never ends well. I also know that one sleeve of Thin Mints is not going to kill me. I ALSO know that I’m in better shape than any single person in my group, so I’m pretty sure I’m o-fucking-kay with this decision. Why this is grating on me, I’m not sure, but I’m all bristly about it. Maybe it’s the implication that I don’t fucking know what I’m doing. Because I guarantee you, I fucking know what I’m doing. That statement applies to work too. I’m trying really hard to not rant about work right now. It is difficult not to. Whatever.
Happier topic. This week I got my flight booked to go out to Portland to see my dad’s side of the family. I am pretty pumped. Granted, I don’t have my flight back yet (still waiting for prices to drop), so that could get entertaining. Not only will I get to see a good chunk of my family (immediate AND extended), but I am taking twelve days off work. TWELVE. I am REALLY looking forward to it.
And then there’s this whole Ann’s running a LOOOOOONG way in like a week. Guess who just took five days off from working out? This girl. Guess who’s just SO burnt out that she’s looking forward to the END of Ragnar? This girl. I am really excited about this race, truly, but at this point I cannot physically improve anymore. I cannot get into my own head about failure, because it’s not an option. I cannot do anything but push myself to the limits and beyond, experience the whole race, and then come home for a pedicure that finally WON’T get jacked up and a few days of doing absolutely nothing while staying guilt-free. I realized yesterday talking to GCB that I have been in training mode since last AUGUST. I need a fucking break. But until then?
Impossible is nothing
My motivation is gone today.
The end.

I Got You Babe

How you know you’re kind of a nerd:

When deciding the specific date for your anniversary, you choose based on the fact that all the numbers are factors of four.

How you know your boyfriend is awesome:

He chuckles and says, “Deal.”

Sugar….Ah, Honey, Honey

This morning I had a cupcake for breakfast.

This afternoon I found out that my air conditioning is out. It is 90 degrees in my apartment.

Which is why tonight I stripped down and ate ice cream.

I might have announced that to Twitter and Facebook.


Not What it Seems

I am aware that for all intents and purposes, all over social media, I am one of those obnoxious “You can do it!!” type runners. Like so:

I’ll “like” people’s statuses about completing races, offer my services to friends when it comes to sending motivating emails (much like Miranda does for me), forward along my running/workout schedule as a template for someone looking for their own way of organizing fitness, comment on blogs, etc.

However, for all the benefits of this level of physical activity, and believe me there are TONS of benefits, there are some things that suck. Lots. For example.

-Being “rungry”: This is basically when you’ve kicked your metabolism up to the point where you are ALWAYS hungry. Eat until you’re full, sure! Be prepared to be hunting down the next meal within two hours or so though. Prime example. This morning my friend Timmy emailed me asking for my guacamole recipe. Upon receiving that email, my hunger kicked so far into high gear that all I can think of, still, is getting guacamole into my face. Did I care that it was 10am, which is traditionally not the time for delicious, delicious guacamole? No. AND THEN. Then my coworker decided to bust out with, “You know, I wish I was sitting on a patio, drinking a margarita.” WOMAN, are you trying to KILL ME? At 1115 I couldn’t take the yowling stomach anymore and went and heated up my lunch. An otherwise satisfactory lunch of leftover chicken fried rice has left me ENTIRELY UNSATISFIED and dreaming of chips piled high with the avocado-y goodness. Or a turkey sandwich piled high with it. Or a spoon piled high with it. Essentially, I will heretofore be unhappy with my state until guacamole gets into my system. Full stop. OMGUACAMOLE.

-The blisters: Yep. My poor little footsies are a bit worse for the wear at this point. It’s gross. I will spare you the graphic details, but just know that I have sworn off pedicures until at least three weeks after my Ragnar in order to save the poor pedicurist from what would surely be a frightening experience.

-The breakouts: Not face breakouts. Guys, when I workout, I wear a sports bra. When I workout, I sweat. When I workout, that sweat likes to stick around under my sports bra. Um…ew. Some weeks are worse than others, but still, it’s not the most fun situation. Looks like I’ll be sticking primarily to racerback tank tops for a bit.

-The boobs: Let me be clear here. I’ve never been what you might call “voluptuous” up top. I’ve got hips and an ass that could knock over just about anything, but disproportion has been a fact of my life for as long as…..well, since I got boobs. It was a source of SEVERE self-consciousness when I was younger, and every once in a while I still get those “dammit, I wish I had big boobs” cravings. Becoming comfortable in my own skin to the point of liking my own chest was one of my biggest emotional accomplishments a while back. I know, and knew going into this crazy workout thing I’ve had going for a while now, that the decreasing fat on my body during these workouts was going to make what little curve I had just go right on away. And they have, in spectacular fashion. I don’t think a single one of my bras fits correctly anymore, and those fuckers are EXPENSIVE to replace. Pretty sure I’m going to end up concave here before too long. The thing is? That curve that’s running away from my chest? It’s repositioning itself right back on my booty. Because MORE disproportion is what I needed, right? I mean, really, I can wear a pair of jeans that’s totally tight around my hips and butt and yet still stick out a good six inches from my waist. NEAT.

-Being sore/tired: I’m always sore. I’m always tired. Granted, this might be because I’m running constantly it seems like, and that tends to, oh I don’t know, tear muscle fibers. I am going to do hill sprints and lift today. I know that tomorrow is going to include me limping around work like I spent far too much time on a mechanical bull. And what am I going to do tomorrow? What any normal person would do: run twelve miles. The smartz. I haz them. It’s a constant that is manageable, but aggravating at times.

Even with the negatives involved, yesterday’s run (one of my best in a LONG time) and how I feel today have reinvigorated me. They’ve reminded me just how AWESOME it feels to get to the end of something and go “fuck YES I did that.” The time I spend with my running shoes and a long stretch of road is something I absolutely cherish. It’s MY time, no one else’s.

It’s my release and my joy and my happiness.

That. That is why I run.

In the Pines, In the Pines, Where the Sun Don’t Ever Shine

A few things:

–Apparently ordering an entire bucket of beer for oneself does not faze the servers at the bar we went to last night. Works for me.

–Kid Cudi covers Nirvana on his latest album. My current self is staring my seventh grade self in the eye. It is weird. Past meets present.

–I am starting to get questions about why I’m not going to Boozefest. It would be a lot easier to just tell people what happened, but I can’t seem to bring myself to. I miss them all. This hurts my heart. I will not break down this weekend. I will not break down this weekend. I will not break down this weekend.

–I skipped my workout last night. All of it. I napped and went and drank beer. Somehow I feel like this was necessary.

–This commercial motivates the shit out of me. Bring it on, Johnson Ochocinco Johnson Ochocinco.

–I don’t think I say it enough, nor do I think I express it enough to my friends, but I am so beyond grateful that when I’m out with my friends who are in couples that they don’t even slightly make me feel like the odd man out. They really are the bestest.

–Some other friends got me started on Game of Thrones. All I want to do is finish the whole entire first series. Now I am left waiting until we can watch more. This is sad.

–Missouri weather is weird.