Korean/Mexican fusion burritos. What? That's what I ate for dinner last night. Not something I'm proud to admit, but they were phenomenal.
Why was I eating Korean/Mexican fusion burritos on a Saturday night? Well, I was on a date. A first date. What does one normally do on first dates to get to know the other person? Oooo! Oooo! Choose me! I know, I know! Okay, put your hand down and tell me the answer. You ask questions! You go, Glenn Coco! Ten points for you!
So I asked this man what he had learned about himself this past week and somehow that conversation led to a great discovery. I was out on a date with a man who writes a blog about Christian dating. Hmmm... this could be interesting. It made me want to hear his stories. It also made me wonder if maybe we were on a date just so he could write about this Korean/Mexican fusion burrito experience.
It was undeniable that I wanted to know some of his dating stories. My eyes got wide when he even mentioned the blog. Tell me more!
Of course he wanted to know some of mine in exchange. Truth be told, I have some great dating stories. In fact, sometimes I think I go out with some boys just for a good story to tell.
One in particular happened this past summer in Wyoming.
Where do you meet boys in Wyoming? Out on the ranch in their tractor? My date asked.
No, this particular boy I met in a coffee shop. I will name him Smith, which is totally not his name. His name is actually very common. So I will make his last name common. His name was Smith Jones. Or Smithy, as I liked to call him. I totally did not call him that because that would be stupid.
So Smithy worked at a coffee shop in town. Dropping my bear spray outside the laundromat led to five days of me lying on my death bed watching a television show about ballerinas in Australia. Obviously, I needed to get out in civilization... which is easy to do in Wyoming. Not. Anyway, I went to a local coffee shop (where Smithy worked) and ordered a drink. Normally, I would go to Kathy's, but Kathy closes shop whenever she feels like closing shop and that particular day she felt like closing up at 12:45PM, which is what led me to Smithy's coffee shop.
Smithy made my drink and called me up to the counter to pick it up. Somehow, the topic of music was discussed and it turned out we had very similar tastes. We hit it off immediately and ended up exchanging numbers. After finishing my coffee drink, I walked over to the gym to practice the new ballet moves I had learned on this television show I had been watching. What? Who does that? Someone who thinks they can dance but really has no clue what she's doing. As I "danced", Darth Vador informed me that I had received a text message. I wiped the sweat off my brow, adjusted my leg warmers and walked on point over to my cellular device. Smith wanted to hang out.
I watched as he played some dragon game on the X-box. Then we watched some television show he really enjoyed and he spent the next ten minutes apologizing for the content.
It's okay. I'm not offended.
You probably hate this. We don't have to watch this show. You should choose something.
It's okay, Smithy. I'm totally fine.
I'm so embarrassed.
Uhhhh... then why do you watch it?
I feel so convicted.
Etc., etc. So he asks me to meet him for lunch the next day. I figure we will grab something in town at The Cowboy Cafe since it's really the only restaurant. When I arrive at the coffee shop, he informs me he wants to go an hour and a half east to Riverton because he has some rare dry lip dysfunction and needs to go to Walmart to get chapstick. Well, if we are going all the way to Riverton, we will probably go somewhere nice, I assumed. You know what they say about assuming...
Almost two hours later, we arrive at Walmart. Oh, by the way, the next day was my food buy day, so I knew I would be coming back here in less than 24 hours for my 10-hour-long, 8-grocery-carts-full shopping extravaganza which was the dreaded day of every week. As we walk inside, he finds his friend who works there and invites him to come along for the meal. That's cool. Another friend!
They decide to go to Pizza Hut. For our first date. Just Smith and me. And his friend. To Pizza Hut. No, I'm not judging you. I was vegan at the time, so I don't partake in the meal. I spend the time I would have used chewing food to make a good impression on his friend as I ponder what he is thinking about me. He seems disinterested. That's cool. Whatever. I just wore my nicest outfit for you. But it's cool.
The car ride home is a little awkward and uncomfortable. It's just Smith and me now. No friend to divert my attention. Everything he says sounds depressing and non-engaging. "So," I ask. "Are you a Christian?"
Hook! What was that? Oh, not much. You just cast a line out into the water and the fish bit on.
His eyes light up and he gets very involved in the conversation. "To be honest," he informed me. "I thought you were just a really attractive flirty girl who knew she was attractive and flirted with every boy she met." Ouch. "But now, I am so intrigued by you."
The next time we hung out, he wanted to know how I thought we should raise our children. Where should we live? Should he move to California or would I move to Wyoming? Or should we move to Oregon? Should our kids be allowed to listen to secular music? Excuse me?
Then he invited me to meet the parents.
My car isn't working.
It's okay; I'll come get you.
I'm working late, Smithy. I won't be done in the kitchen until 10PM.
You can still come have dinner with us.
Not tonight.
That is when things got crazy. I backed off a lot. When I finally did see him again, he told me he had a confession.
My dad stalked your facebook.
Excuse me?
Is that weird? That's totally weird.
What do you mean?
Well, he asked me for my password and I gave it to him and he looked through your Facebook. Is that weird? That's totally weird.
Silence.
You know, Smith, it's okay. I put those things online, so I need to be okay with people looking at them.
Yeah, he looked through your pictures. He was a little disturbed by some of them.
Wait, I have over 3,000 photos. Which did he look at.
All of them.
No, like an album or my profile pictures...
He looked through all 3,000.
Oh.
And he read every post that's ever been left on your wall. And he looked up your parents and sister and Josh and checked their profiles.
Why?
To see your background and if you were from a good family.
That's weird.
I shouldn't tell you the rest.
Smith, tell me the rest.
He also read your blog.
Oh, cool. Which blog post?
All of them.
Oh wow.
Are you mad?
I mean, it's a little weird, but I can't be upset. I put it online, I have to be okay with people I don't know looking at it.
Yeah, he should be a detective.
What do you mean?
He is so smart, he decided that you must be from a really wealthy family.
What is that supposed to mean?
Well, you run all of the time, so you must not have to work so your family must support you.
That was when I lost it. I explained how hard I have worked to be where I am today. Yes, my family has been incredibly supportive, but I have worked 5 plus jobs ever since I started college to pay off my loans.
I told him I was walking to my car. He insisted he drive me because of the bears and mountain lions.
We spoke maybe twice after that.
Hey, how's life? That's nice.
And that was how I learned that Taylor the Latte Guy was not so promising.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Friday, February 22, 2013
Where'd That Darn Strawberry Go?
When I think of Wyoming, I can't help but smile. So many amazing friends were met and phenomenal memories were made. The past couple of days, one person in particular has been on my mind, probably because of the ceramic strawberry he gave me that reminds me every day to "eat my strawberry".
I still remember the moment Jackson arrived at base. I had finished making dinner and was sitting down with Sophie to enjoy a warm meal. This tall, skinny, gorgeous, blonde guy with a hat and outdoorsy clothing came walking up the path. My body tensed up with excitement. Sophie's left hand grabbed my knee and squeezed. "Hi y'all," he said with an slight twang.
"Oh my goodness! He even has an accent," the words had escaped my lips before I realized my thoughts were not on mute. He smiled at me and went to the kitchen to grab some food.
The next couple of weeks were spent exchanging flirtatious banter and being inspired by his stories and quotes of the day. I remember waiting every morning for the moment he would pop his head into the kitchen to check if the coffee was ready and ask if I needed help cooking, which I always did. One day, I mentioned a cool lighter that was shaped like a pistol I had seen in town. The next day, he poked his head through the door and told me he had a surprise for me. Yup, you guessed it; he went out and bought the lighter for me. I jumped up and down giddy with excitement.
I spent a lot of time in that kitchen while people were out getting to know each other. I remember everyone talking about a strawberry story Jackson had been sharing. One night, after leaving the Outlaw, Jackson drove me to meet the others at the look out. On our way, while blasting Shania Twain, I asked if he would tell me the strawberry story. "The timing has to be right," he informed me. "You don't need to hear the strawberry story yet. I didn't understand.
Weeks passed and soon staff training was over. Tucker, Elle, Jackson, Brock, Mackenzi, Rachel and I took a trip out to Shadow Mountain for a night of camping next to the Tetons. It was a great trip, but for some reason, I was really missing Josh. I was pretty homesick in general. As everyone sat around the fire drinking whiskey, I stole away back to Elle's and my tent. As I allowed myself to cry a little bit, I heard someone come and lay their head next to mine on the outside of the tent. It was Jackson. "Hey, Jackson," I mumbled. "I think I'm ready for the strawberry story."
I don't know what convinced him that I was ready to hear this epic tale, but tell it to me, he did. I remember being in awe of every word he said. I really cannot do this story justice, so I am going to allow Jackson to tell the story for me:
At this moment, when our eyes met, no words were exchanged, no thoughts ran through our minds, we both knew.. exactly what was to happen.
If you’re by any chance asking yourself what happened next? What happened to the lions!? Did you die!? Well, the moment I enjoyed that monumental strawberry, the lions went away. I then realized that those lions were not just any lions, and that strawberry was not just any strawberry. The lion above me, pacing back and forth, was an archetypical symbol for my future. All the things in the future that were mere stressors in my life. Everything that was awaiting me. All things distracting me from one thing. The lion below me was everything in my past that bothered me and harassed me from one thing.
That one thing, was thestrawberry.
Live each moment with certainty that it is your moment. Live each one and live it with YOUR style. Always know that around every corner, however unsuspecting it may be, a strawberry awaits."
Thank you, Jackson, for the strawberry story. My life would not be the same without it. You are missed.
I still remember the moment Jackson arrived at base. I had finished making dinner and was sitting down with Sophie to enjoy a warm meal. This tall, skinny, gorgeous, blonde guy with a hat and outdoorsy clothing came walking up the path. My body tensed up with excitement. Sophie's left hand grabbed my knee and squeezed. "Hi y'all," he said with an slight twang.
"Oh my goodness! He even has an accent," the words had escaped my lips before I realized my thoughts were not on mute. He smiled at me and went to the kitchen to grab some food.
The next couple of weeks were spent exchanging flirtatious banter and being inspired by his stories and quotes of the day. I remember waiting every morning for the moment he would pop his head into the kitchen to check if the coffee was ready and ask if I needed help cooking, which I always did. One day, I mentioned a cool lighter that was shaped like a pistol I had seen in town. The next day, he poked his head through the door and told me he had a surprise for me. Yup, you guessed it; he went out and bought the lighter for me. I jumped up and down giddy with excitement.
I spent a lot of time in that kitchen while people were out getting to know each other. I remember everyone talking about a strawberry story Jackson had been sharing. One night, after leaving the Outlaw, Jackson drove me to meet the others at the look out. On our way, while blasting Shania Twain, I asked if he would tell me the strawberry story. "The timing has to be right," he informed me. "You don't need to hear the strawberry story yet. I didn't understand.
Weeks passed and soon staff training was over. Tucker, Elle, Jackson, Brock, Mackenzi, Rachel and I took a trip out to Shadow Mountain for a night of camping next to the Tetons. It was a great trip, but for some reason, I was really missing Josh. I was pretty homesick in general. As everyone sat around the fire drinking whiskey, I stole away back to Elle's and my tent. As I allowed myself to cry a little bit, I heard someone come and lay their head next to mine on the outside of the tent. It was Jackson. "Hey, Jackson," I mumbled. "I think I'm ready for the strawberry story."
I don't know what convinced him that I was ready to hear this epic tale, but tell it to me, he did. I remember being in awe of every word he said. I really cannot do this story justice, so I am going to allow Jackson to tell the story for me:
"There were a couple of things I wanted to do after graduating high
school. One was go to underwater soldering (that word looks nothing like
it sounds) school, and roll in the big bucks – the other was to make a
difference in the world. I uneducatedly decided to go into the Peace
Core. To make a section of a long story shorter, I ended up in Nigeria
managing prairie fires – which apparently are a big issue down there.
So.. I’m in Nigeria, and I’ve spent the past couple of weeks in a
colossal tower in the middle of the middle of no where east Jesus -
looking at grass. Yes… grass. Lots of it. Everywhere. For miles, and
miles, and miles. In the middle of that never ending sea of boring - on
this particular day, the grass was irregularly boring me, just swaying
pretentiously back and forth like it was trying to make a statement, so
I left my little tower to eat my cucumber and mustard sandwich... or
whatever. I ventured out into the prairies and found a nice rock surface
to eat on top of.
LNT fo’life yo.
Relaxing on my durable surface, I slipped into a day dream, you know
when you kind of forget that you're in real life? That happened. And I
tuned out for a short while– most likely swimming past the occipital
lobe, breast stroking through black marmalade towards the cerebellum.
The thing that brought me back to reality was the sound. The sound I
will never forget. The sound… was a bowel shattering roar.
A ROAR. I cannot say that with enough annunciation on the word. This was no ordinary roar. This roar had weight. The most weighty roar I’ve ever heard. Say it again in your mind, “A ROAR.”
This sound express delivered reverberations of terror into my eardrum.
In the middle of Nigeria, in the middle of a prairie, with no one around
for miles.When you hear a roar in this setting, you literally shit your
pants. I tightened up and resisted this innate feeling. My senses
heightened, pupils dilated, muscle fibers oxygenated, adrenaline and
cortisol coursing through my veins – I stood and scanned the horizon.
Through the eye height grass, I saw movement… and the grass shaking.
Before my mind could even process, the head of a lion emerged.
At this moment, when our eyes met, no words were exchanged, no thoughts ran through our minds, we both knew.. exactly what was to happen.
I flew, the natural flight or fight response was of course inevitable -
like a California condor on crack I flew so hard. Flames followed my
feet as I ran faster than the Back To The Future car. I realized as my
mind and body were racing, that my triumphant safety watch tower dingy
was much farther away than would be optimal in a situation like this,
because optimally.. it would be right next to me... so I ran towards a
cliff edge that I knew I could climb down. As I approached the cliff, I
swiftly turned my head to check up on my lion friend, and I could see
it, not running, not walking. Stalking me, with an ominous
intent. I got to the cliff and down climbed fiercefully. When I got
about halfway down I looked up, and saw the terrocious lion (terror and
ferocious)… pacing, back and forth along the cliffs edge. Salivating
with hunger.
I figured, what’evs. This lion is a dumb dumb. I’ll just down climb this
cliff and get back to my kick ass watch tower. So I started to follow
that course of action, and when I looked down, there was ANOTHER lion at
the foot of the cliff. ANOTHER! They had cornered me! Communicated like
fucking Velociraptors.
So, I decided I would wait them out. Yeah. Wait out a pair of starving
lions. After 4 hours and the sun starting to set, the lions were still
there. I came to the conclusion that I was probably completely screwed.
And then it hit me. It hit me that I would be dieing in the middle of
Nigeria, via lion. Something happens to you, when you realize your going
to die. And right as I approached a literally once in a life time
epiphany, I caught the glimpse of something red in the corner of my eye.
I said to myself, “might as well check it out. before I get eaten, by most likely, pure bred lions.”
So I climbed over, grabbed the side of this cliff, pulled myself up, and
discovered this beautiful thing, laying in a little crevasse, a little
nook, a tiny trench, a wee cranny crack.
A strawberry, just precariously growing. Large, luscious, succulent,
strikingly stunning, beading with dew and glistening in the setting sun.
I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life and I realized right
then, that there was only one thing left for me to do in my life. So.
I reached out my hand
grasped the strawberry with my fingertips,
plucked it,
and delivered it into my mouth.
And I ate it. It was the best thing, I have ever tasted.
I reached out my hand
grasped the strawberry with my fingertips,
plucked it,
and delivered it into my mouth.
And I ate it. It was the best thing, I have ever tasted.
If you’re by any chance asking yourself what happened next? What happened to the lions!? Did you die!? Well, the moment I enjoyed that monumental strawberry, the lions went away. I then realized that those lions were not just any lions, and that strawberry was not just any strawberry. The lion above me, pacing back and forth, was an archetypical symbol for my future. All the things in the future that were mere stressors in my life. Everything that was awaiting me. All things distracting me from one thing. The lion below me was everything in my past that bothered me and harassed me from one thing.
That one thing, was thestrawberry.
The strawberry. That moment. The one moment that is incomparable to any
other. The strawberry was a symbol for this moment. YOUR moment. The one
that is beautiful, surreal, and once in a life time. Literally! Once in
a life time! The eternal joybliss mountaintop of your existence. You
mustn’t be taken off track, or disrupted by the lions in your life,
because they are fierce and hugely distracting, and their roars
are so easily heard in a sea of dry grass waiting to catch on fire.
These lions live to distract you, they were designed to lurk in the
prairies, pounce on you and let out booming roars that are only
subtracting you from the magnificence that lives in every infinitesimal
instant - every tiny cranny nook, that are sometimes hard to find. The
only moment that counts. Right now.
Thank you, Jackson, for the strawberry story. My life would not be the same without it. You are missed.
Monday, February 18, 2013
A Great Weekend for a PR
Run, run, run, run. La die dah dah. I love to run.
The adventure started last Friday. I fed the dogs, taught cycle, then loaded the car and drove south. The sun reflected off of the waves at Rincon on my right. To my left, the "mountains"/hills stood tall and alive (with the sound of music?). I call them "mountains" because people in my town think that's what they are. If you are from Oregon or Washington or really any place with a bump of ground that is taller than 2,500 feet, you know these are really just hills. Regardless, I couldn't help but soak in the beauty that surrounded me and think to myself, "This is where I live".
I was giddy with excitement. So giddy, in fact, that every time I thought about my breathtaking surroundings or about the Walk the Sun song on my iPod or the trip I was about to take, I couldn't hold my lips back from curling up into a smile, teeth included.
Deep breath in. This is happiness.
I have had my days where happiness seemed unfathomable. But this? There was no denying this feeling that everything in life was as it should be.
The LA traffic was heavy. Timing doesn't matter; LA traffic is always a pill. But when I arrived in Encinitas, the sun was bright, the air was warm (80 degree weather in February) and Walk the Sun was still bumping through my speakers. I checked in at the YMCA and walked out to their enormous, eleven-lane pool. I began my 2600 meter workout. It was exciting to be in a new pool. I won't bore you with the details of the pool or the environment because God knows we all have more important things to busy ourselves with.
After the swim, I drove down to my grandparents' house for one of the most amazing dinners I have ever eaten. Mer had made fish (which I love) with some special spices my cousin had given her for Christmas. On the side, we had steamed veggies and tomatoes. It was wonderfully made and enthusiastically consumed.
Dana picked me up after dinner and we went to our favorite sushi place to talk about life, love and friends. "Lara is having another baby?" "Tiff is going to be a perfect mother." "Most of our friends are still single. That's promising." "How was Elise's trip up North?" I love my best friend and I love my time with her. Dana and I are so different, yet we have so much fun together constantly. Her laugh brightens my week. I am so grateful for her friendship.
The next day, I met Rynny, Baby Isla, Torrey and Julie at Bird Rock Coffee. Isla is such a cute baby. Seriously. I do not say that often. In fact, I think most babies are pretty darn ugly, but not Isla. Isla has these big, beautiful eyes that are full of wonder and a desire to learn and to know. She has a perfect smile and soft skin. I could hold her all day long... until she cries. Then she can go back to her mommy.
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| In case you weren't sure what happiness looks like |
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| favorites |
After coffee, I did Pilates on my grandparents' front lawn then met up with Elle and April to teach them Pilates at the beach. Elle is one of my sister's best friends from growing up, but she and I have a lot of similarities and I enjoy spending time with her. She is basically a little sister to me.
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| Love this beautiful girl |
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| My favorite beach |
The three of us girls met up with Dana and Eric for sushi at the shores, but the meal had consequences. Dana and I were both rewarded with a dose of food poisoning. I sat up that night, the night before my race, holding my stomach and crying in pain. This is not how the night was supposed to end. I laid down in the fetal position and fell asleep texting Ben.
The next morning, I made my oatmeal with peanut butter and banana, drove down the hill and got coffee and made my way to Coronado. When I arrived, it was cold outside. The air cut through my three layers of what were supposed to be warm coats. Stiffly, I moved my legs toward the registration tent and signed in. Amy wasn't there yet, so I started to warm up.
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| My parents were married here |
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| Good morning, Coronado |
As the minutes ticked by, Amy and I found our spot at the starting line toward the front. "This is how our friendship started," she reminded me. "I came in to buy a pair of shoes from you and you invited me to run this race with you and here we are. A week after meeting, we were moving in together." Hey, the more running friends, the merrier!
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| Pre-run |
My coach warned me to pace myself, but of course, I started out a minute faster than I was supposed to go. It felt solid though and I knew I could hold it. I made my way ahead of Amy (so I thought), but soon she was passing on my right. I feel really strong and this is really a slow pace for me. I should pick it up, I thought. Fortunately, I ignored my mind and stuck to my coach's orders. 8:30 pace. Just a couple more feet and I can take it down to 8:00. That's when I passed Amy again and gave her a little love tap. "Way to go," I told her.
As I passed a group of college guys, I heard them comment on my stride, using terms such as strong and confident. Someone even remarked he thought I could be going faster. Ahhhhh so hard to resist the urge.
At mile 2.8, I saw the first runner making his way back to the start. I kept my eyes open for my new friend Sergio, who is a Saucony rep in San Diego. He was hoping to hold onto the lead runner and take him out at the end for the win. When I caught sight of his fluffy beard, he was in third. "You got it, Sergio," I screamed.
I passed a woman in a wheelchair who was pushing her way toward the win. Then a man trailing behind a stroller passed me up. I guess it was a good day to be on wheels. Aw man, I thought. I just got passed by a man with a stroller. After looking at his calves though, I wasn't too bummed. I pushed my hips forward and squeezed my glutes in. Let's go, Ash. Take another :15 off your pace. And I did.
Every mile, I cut my pace by :15. Around mile 4.5, I started feeling a little worn. There were two guys my age in heart boxers that I had been drafting behind for the past two miles. I decided it was time to let them eat my dust, so I kicked it into gear and left them by themselves. Since mile 1, I had been neck to neck with a "bunny rabbit", as Yomi called her. She would sprint all out for 400 meters then stop and tie her shoe or drink some water or just hang out. Then she would sprint all out again. I was fed up of this game of cat and mouse we were playing and I knew I had to beat her. On mile 5, I was ahead of her. At mile 5.3, she kicked it up a notch and shot past me. I watched as she started to fade. She got to 5.5 and died. I picked it up. And I didn't stop. I knew I was kicking it into gear too soon, but I didn't want her to beat me. My turnover seemed slow, but I knew I was pushing harder than I should have been. Can I maintain this for the next .75 miles? On my left, a man called out, "Nice kick!" I knew he was talking to me. People were watching me. It didn't matter that they didn't know me. I needed this for me. ...Well, it didn't hurt that I knew people at home would ask my time, too. I held it to the end and finished with a PR. Then I grabbed a medal, half of a banana and some water and started jogging against the running traffic to find Amy. A few minutes later, I spotted her staring at the ground in front of her.
"Come on, Amy," I screamed. I ran along side her and encouraged her to dig deeper. She finished her first 10K in under an hour. "Way to go, Amy," I yelled proudly.
What a great day for a PR. And a beer at 10AM. Hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Halfway through, I realized I was drinking a beer at 10AM, so I stopped.
Time for coffee. Bird Rock, here I come.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
The Relationship Mixed Tape
I have this habit of hanging out with boys on Valentines Day who I always end up dating afterwards. It's a strange thing. I forget it's a "special day" and someone suggests a hike and suddenly whoop I've got a boyfriend. Totally unintentional. So it is probably a good thing I couldn't go to Disneyland with Weston and Steven today. Don't get me wrong, I love my boys, but I hate Disneyland. And I don't think I could date one of my best friends. They are too muscley for me. Plus they live way too far away.
So, instead of waking up to breakfast in bed and flowers on my table like most of my girlfriends did, I woke up to the beeping of my alarm at 6AM. My swimsuit was almost dry, but the slight dampness touching my epidermis made me cringe. I ate half a banana and a few macadamia nuts, fed the dogs and drove to the pool to meet with my coach.
Jason (my coach) is an attractive man. He looks (and acts) a lot like my old personal trainer/massage therapist Rich. I have nothing but praise for this man. He is so humble about his abilities and he is so down to earth, but he has accomplished great things. Very cool guy, to say the least. At the pool I typically swim at, there are not a ton of attractive men. Every once in awhile, one will dip his toe in the waters of the public pool, but usually it is just older dads, grandpas and guys in du-rags. So, when this 30-year-old competitive triathlete walks out with defined muscles and confidence to boot, the women can't help but stare. One woman went to the front desk after finishing her workout.
"We need to do something about what happened at the pool this morning," she complained. "That attractive man walked out in his little speedo with Hammer written across the butt and totally distracted all of us from our workouts. Mary almost had a heart attack." Oh man. A heart attack on Valentines. Now that would be something.
After my swim, I went home and hydrated... with coffee. Then I laced up my Wave Riders and down the road I pranced. Well, I'm trying not to prance as much, but I'm sure there is still some of that left. My Garmin was fresh out of battery, so my hand was heavy with my iPhone. I bought the new Imagine Dragons and Walk the Sun CDs yesterday though, so I had an excuse to listen to them. When I passed a college student jamming out to techno, I had to laugh. My running music is so much more mellow than most people. Here, let me show you an example. The following is my favorite song for trail running:
It was a beautiful run, but the last two miles killed me. My legs were completely spent. I tried to keep pushing and, to my surprise, my pace stayed constant on the 9th mile; unfortunately, mile 10 did not hold the same bright promise of a quick turnover. Not at all. The only thing that kept me from stopping and clasping my sides was the fact that Jason would be looking at my times later. If I didn't do well on this mile, my entire 10-mile pace times would be thrown off. I was happy, no... I was relieved when I was finished. I did 5 rounds of :09 strides then made my way into the house to prepare a recovery drink and a sweet potato before cycle class.
Oh cycle... oh cycle on a holiday... oh cycle on Valentines day... Last year, my playlist consisted only of songs with the word LOVE in the title. This year, my mom thought it would be fun to make a playlist starting with all of Taylor Swift's love songs, but ending with her breakup songs. I figured that might be a little too much T Swift. I liked the idea though, so I made a relationship mixed tape. I warned the class that the mix would start with the search (warm-up and extended warm-up), finding that special someone (sprints of excitement), thinking you might be in love (standing zone 3, quick cadence), falling head over heals (seated spin-ups), realizing maybe things aren't as great as you thought (:30 in various zones), getting your heart broken (lots of zone 5), being angry at your ex-lover (standing build from zone 3 to zone 5 repeats) then moving on to independence (strong, zone 4 sprints).
Barry shook his head. "What is that head shaking for," I asked.
"It's a good shake," he comforted me. "I love your creativity."
"What stage are you in," asked Dave.
"The Forget You stage," I shot back. Howls of laughter filled the room.
I started with Justin Beiber's Somebody to Love. "Really," Dave asked. "Justin Beiber? Can't you skip it?"
"No," I responded. "It's part of the relationship. Everyone starts out looking for somebody else."
"We might as well listen to Taylor Swift the whole time," he grumbled. Dave, if you're reading this right now, you make me laugh.
I'll admit, the playlist was a little dorky. After Beiber, Call Me Maybe graced the ears of my participants. A couple of women started singing along... of course. I mean, I can't deny Amy and I made a music video to that song when we were in Tahoe last. Next was Usher and Pitbull then Natalie Cole came on the stereo system singing L-O-V-E. "Ohpe! You fell in love wayyyy too quickly! Stand up and sprint," I yelled. We followed that with Mike Poser and after him, Imagine Dragons Hear Me came on. "Uh-oh, you just realized you jumped in too quickly. Now things aren't going the way you planned. You are confused, so is your zone!" We switched zones every :30, staying mostly in zones 4 and 5.
A few songs (and heartbreaks later), Bon Jovi came on. As soon as he belted out "Shot through the heart", cheers spread through the room. Whoops and even a "Yes!" played across the mouths of my class participants.
Of course, We Are Never Getting Back Together played right before Ben Fold's and Regina Spektor's You Don't Know Me At All.
It was a great class; when is it not a great class?
Tonight, I have a hot baking date with my future roomie Amy. Time to say Welcome home! to those calories who thought they were leaving for good. Nope... I've got you this time, you little buggers.
HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!
So, instead of waking up to breakfast in bed and flowers on my table like most of my girlfriends did, I woke up to the beeping of my alarm at 6AM. My swimsuit was almost dry, but the slight dampness touching my epidermis made me cringe. I ate half a banana and a few macadamia nuts, fed the dogs and drove to the pool to meet with my coach.
Jason (my coach) is an attractive man. He looks (and acts) a lot like my old personal trainer/massage therapist Rich. I have nothing but praise for this man. He is so humble about his abilities and he is so down to earth, but he has accomplished great things. Very cool guy, to say the least. At the pool I typically swim at, there are not a ton of attractive men. Every once in awhile, one will dip his toe in the waters of the public pool, but usually it is just older dads, grandpas and guys in du-rags. So, when this 30-year-old competitive triathlete walks out with defined muscles and confidence to boot, the women can't help but stare. One woman went to the front desk after finishing her workout.
"We need to do something about what happened at the pool this morning," she complained. "That attractive man walked out in his little speedo with Hammer written across the butt and totally distracted all of us from our workouts. Mary almost had a heart attack." Oh man. A heart attack on Valentines. Now that would be something.
After my swim, I went home and hydrated... with coffee. Then I laced up my Wave Riders and down the road I pranced. Well, I'm trying not to prance as much, but I'm sure there is still some of that left. My Garmin was fresh out of battery, so my hand was heavy with my iPhone. I bought the new Imagine Dragons and Walk the Sun CDs yesterday though, so I had an excuse to listen to them. When I passed a college student jamming out to techno, I had to laugh. My running music is so much more mellow than most people. Here, let me show you an example. The following is my favorite song for trail running:
It was a beautiful run, but the last two miles killed me. My legs were completely spent. I tried to keep pushing and, to my surprise, my pace stayed constant on the 9th mile; unfortunately, mile 10 did not hold the same bright promise of a quick turnover. Not at all. The only thing that kept me from stopping and clasping my sides was the fact that Jason would be looking at my times later. If I didn't do well on this mile, my entire 10-mile pace times would be thrown off. I was happy, no... I was relieved when I was finished. I did 5 rounds of :09 strides then made my way into the house to prepare a recovery drink and a sweet potato before cycle class.
 |
| From my run. Epic day. |
Oh cycle... oh cycle on a holiday... oh cycle on Valentines day... Last year, my playlist consisted only of songs with the word LOVE in the title. This year, my mom thought it would be fun to make a playlist starting with all of Taylor Swift's love songs, but ending with her breakup songs. I figured that might be a little too much T Swift. I liked the idea though, so I made a relationship mixed tape. I warned the class that the mix would start with the search (warm-up and extended warm-up), finding that special someone (sprints of excitement), thinking you might be in love (standing zone 3, quick cadence), falling head over heals (seated spin-ups), realizing maybe things aren't as great as you thought (:30 in various zones), getting your heart broken (lots of zone 5), being angry at your ex-lover (standing build from zone 3 to zone 5 repeats) then moving on to independence (strong, zone 4 sprints).
Barry shook his head. "What is that head shaking for," I asked.
"It's a good shake," he comforted me. "I love your creativity."
"What stage are you in," asked Dave.
"The Forget You stage," I shot back. Howls of laughter filled the room.
I started with Justin Beiber's Somebody to Love. "Really," Dave asked. "Justin Beiber? Can't you skip it?"
"No," I responded. "It's part of the relationship. Everyone starts out looking for somebody else."
"We might as well listen to Taylor Swift the whole time," he grumbled. Dave, if you're reading this right now, you make me laugh.
I'll admit, the playlist was a little dorky. After Beiber, Call Me Maybe graced the ears of my participants. A couple of women started singing along... of course. I mean, I can't deny Amy and I made a music video to that song when we were in Tahoe last. Next was Usher and Pitbull then Natalie Cole came on the stereo system singing L-O-V-E. "Ohpe! You fell in love wayyyy too quickly! Stand up and sprint," I yelled. We followed that with Mike Poser and after him, Imagine Dragons Hear Me came on. "Uh-oh, you just realized you jumped in too quickly. Now things aren't going the way you planned. You are confused, so is your zone!" We switched zones every :30, staying mostly in zones 4 and 5.
A few songs (and heartbreaks later), Bon Jovi came on. As soon as he belted out "Shot through the heart", cheers spread through the room. Whoops and even a "Yes!" played across the mouths of my class participants.
Of course, We Are Never Getting Back Together played right before Ben Fold's and Regina Spektor's You Don't Know Me At All.
It was a great class; when is it not a great class?
Tonight, I have a hot baking date with my future roomie Amy. Time to say Welcome home! to those calories who thought they were leaving for good. Nope... I've got you this time, you little buggers.
HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!
 |
| From Jameisha. Oh my word. So good. |
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Hello H2O, Goodbye Honey Child
It's a typical Wednesday morning; there is a strand of long black hair tangled around my left fingertips and a piece of wet toilet paper dancing circles in front of me, threatening to enter my mouth. Yup, just another 6AM on a Wednesday. I shouldn't complain, but swimming in public pools is really not enjoyable.
Sarah texted me last night: Hey, are you swimming tomorrow?
YES!!!
What time?
I looked at the time on my phone; it was already past nine and I was still downtown looking for God-knows-what who-knows-where.
...
7?
Ummm sure.
Yeah, she's not going to be there at 7. Sure enough, Darth Vador summoned me at 6:42AM. The text? I will not make it there by 7.
That was fine. It gave me a little extra time with the dogs I'm watching. I still beat Sarah to the pool, so I did some core work and cords. "My coach told me to," I explained to Sarah when she arrived to me doing plank on the water's edge.
We spent a good 15 minutes doing core and cords, waiting for a lane to open up. It seemed like everyone was circle swimming this morning. Finally, a lane opened up and we clumsily grabbed our goggles, threw off our sweats and dove in the chilly winter water (I don't care if it's indoors; it's still cold in there!). We looked like a comic strip, dust rising up from behind our feet, one flip-flop in the air as we pulled on our caps mid-run. But the lane was ours and only ours... for about 3 minutes. After changing lanes three times and circle swimming four times, I finished treading 3,300 yards of water.
I pulled my hair back into a ballerina bun and tossed a sweatshirt over my still-wet frame (for those of you who don't know, I don't use towels to dry off. It's weird, I know. Josh and Denise used to tease me all of the time--I get it. I'm weird). We walked over to Whole Foods with Jameisha and I ordered coffee and an apple. As we sat and enjoyed our breakfasts, we talked about lent and what we were giving up.
Most of you know that I LOVE lent. Any excuse to do something crazy and challenge myself- oh, I'm game. Last year, I gave up coffee (which didn't last too long. I think it only lasted as long as it did because I wanted to prove Ben wrong). I've also given up driving and spending money before, but mostly because I felt people were taking advantage of me and I wanted to have an excuse to cut them off without being a complete jerk. This year, I've decided to erase two things from my life as well as add one. I am not going to eat any processed foods (I think the only thing I'll struggle with are energy bars- they are so quick and easy!) and I'm not going to watch television (I spend more time watching Ted search for his future bride than I do cleaning my room. Things need to change). I'm also going to try to drink more water. I drink a lot as is, but not as much as I should, especially when I'm substituting it with coffee-- bad idea. They don't have quite the same affect on the body.
Let's think of all the things I will achieve from these changes in my life:
1. Get my six-pack back
2. Thrive in a clean room
3. Spend more time on the work website
4. Not get calf cramps during a run (let's hope)
5. Achieve optimal greatness and superiority to all non-water drinking, HIMYM watching, processed-food-eating fools.
Eh, sounds like a good plan to me.
Hello, Lent. Come on in to my life. Make yourself at home. Stay for a good forty days and if you like it here, feel free to move in. I might need to charge you some rent though...
.JPG)
Sarah texted me last night: Hey, are you swimming tomorrow?
YES!!!
What time?
I looked at the time on my phone; it was already past nine and I was still downtown looking for God-knows-what who-knows-where.
...
7?
Ummm sure.
Yeah, she's not going to be there at 7. Sure enough, Darth Vador summoned me at 6:42AM. The text? I will not make it there by 7.
That was fine. It gave me a little extra time with the dogs I'm watching. I still beat Sarah to the pool, so I did some core work and cords. "My coach told me to," I explained to Sarah when she arrived to me doing plank on the water's edge.
We spent a good 15 minutes doing core and cords, waiting for a lane to open up. It seemed like everyone was circle swimming this morning. Finally, a lane opened up and we clumsily grabbed our goggles, threw off our sweats and dove in the chilly winter water (I don't care if it's indoors; it's still cold in there!). We looked like a comic strip, dust rising up from behind our feet, one flip-flop in the air as we pulled on our caps mid-run. But the lane was ours and only ours... for about 3 minutes. After changing lanes three times and circle swimming four times, I finished treading 3,300 yards of water.
I pulled my hair back into a ballerina bun and tossed a sweatshirt over my still-wet frame (for those of you who don't know, I don't use towels to dry off. It's weird, I know. Josh and Denise used to tease me all of the time--I get it. I'm weird). We walked over to Whole Foods with Jameisha and I ordered coffee and an apple. As we sat and enjoyed our breakfasts, we talked about lent and what we were giving up.
Most of you know that I LOVE lent. Any excuse to do something crazy and challenge myself- oh, I'm game. Last year, I gave up coffee (which didn't last too long. I think it only lasted as long as it did because I wanted to prove Ben wrong). I've also given up driving and spending money before, but mostly because I felt people were taking advantage of me and I wanted to have an excuse to cut them off without being a complete jerk. This year, I've decided to erase two things from my life as well as add one. I am not going to eat any processed foods (I think the only thing I'll struggle with are energy bars- they are so quick and easy!) and I'm not going to watch television (I spend more time watching Ted search for his future bride than I do cleaning my room. Things need to change). I'm also going to try to drink more water. I drink a lot as is, but not as much as I should, especially when I'm substituting it with coffee-- bad idea. They don't have quite the same affect on the body.
Let's think of all the things I will achieve from these changes in my life:
1. Get my six-pack back
2. Thrive in a clean room
3. Spend more time on the work website
4. Not get calf cramps during a run (let's hope)
5. Achieve optimal greatness and superiority to all non-water drinking, HIMYM watching, processed-food-eating fools.
Eh, sounds like a good plan to me.
Hello, Lent. Come on in to my life. Make yourself at home. Stay for a good forty days and if you like it here, feel free to move in. I might need to charge you some rent though...
.JPG)
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Runner's Walk Of Shame
What is it they say about life giving you lemons? Take them and throw them on the ground and jump up and down on them until they are mush. Yeah... that sounds about right.
Yesterday, my friend Amy and I ran up Jesusita. On our way back down, we talked about the "Runner's Walk of Shame". C'mon, admit it: If you have ever been a runner, you totally know what I'm talking about. That moment when your hip cramps up or you realize you didn't fuel properly for a 2-hour uphill run. You push past the pain, but you notice that your pace is getting slower and slower. Then it happens. The running turns to jogging and the jogging turns to a slow-motion Baywatch Pamela Anderson bounce and that... well, that turns into a walk. You pout. You kick the rocks you pass. Grrrrr. You are disappointed in yourself and feel like a failure. Stop denying it... you KNOW that feeling. You relate to that feeling.
This morning, I committed the dreaded Runner's Walk of Shame.
It all started two days ago. My friend Zack invited me to go run the route to his new trail race series with him. It was a long bike day for me, but I asked my coach if I could swap it out and do half my bike and the rest as a run. He kindly agreed and switched my training plan for me.
Maybe it was the three cups of coffee I had chugged that morning; maybe it was the lack of water in my system; whatever it was, my calf started cramping in the middle of the run. I've never experienced a calf cramp before. I wasn't quite sure what to do about it. I went home and foam rolled. No problem, right? Except it was a problem. Foam rolling it sent pangs of compressing, pulsing pain throughout my right calf.
The next day, I taught a 70-minute cycle class. That was followed by an hour of Pilates. After Pilates, I met up with Amy for that trail run. After the run, I went to the pool to swim 2,600 meters. I noticed the firmness of my lower leg during Pilates, but didn't think much of it. It was not until the trail run that I felt the heat. Shoot, shoot, shoot! Girl, what are you doing? We got to the top and Amy asked how I was doing. I slapped my calf and it felt like wood... in fact, it looked like wood. There was no shake, no wobble, no movement... The problem was clear: My legs are obviously stronger than my arms. Must be all those stadiums, cycle classes and squats. Just call me the calf master.
I remember walking up the stairs with Miriam at Monica's wedding. "Whoa girl," she said. "You have fantastic calves." Yeah, I do. Actually, that was the first time I realized my lower legs were stellar. Thanks for that confidence booster, Miriam!
On to the main story: Last night, I talked to my coach about my morning track workout. "I think you should do it," he said. "But I want you to chug 10 ounces of water before bed and 12 ounces at 4:30AM, an hour before your run." I followed his advice, but when I woke up this morning, I could tell immediately that today was not my day.
"Shake it off, Ash," I told myself. "It's all mental." So I ran to the track. The warm-up felt okay. I was stiff, but nothing seemed too out of whack. Rusty gave me the workout and I joined my group to run 8x200. Odds at :40, Evens at :50. That felt okay, even though I was at the back of the pack. My calf was very tight and my hip kept locking up, creating a weird cave-in of my knee as my right Mizuno hit the track. Next on the menu was a 2k, 4x800's and another 2k. No problem. I could get through this.
Then the first lemon was given. Two-hundred meters into my first 2k, my hip totally locked up and I caught myself and slowed down to a jog. I looked ahead to the group ahead of me... almost 100 full meters in front of me. I heard two runners breathing hard behind me. I pulled over to the football field. Ahh. This hurts. I galloped up the green pathway to Rusty. He looked confused.
"I can't do this. My hip is bothering me; I'm going to go see Kelly today."
I walked off the track and straight to the gym for a good foam roll. I thought that would help make the rest of my 3-mile run home a little bit easier, but an 11:00 mile was the fastest I could muster before the pain took me out. I sucked it up and ran it home. Stupid lemon. It had better start squeezing out some juice before Sunday.
On a positive not, here is my lemonade for the day: There is some evidence that big calf muscles can help you run faster. Woohoo! And life is wonderful once again. http://www.livestrong.com/article/437390-does-having-big-calf-muscles-make-you-faster/
Yesterday, my friend Amy and I ran up Jesusita. On our way back down, we talked about the "Runner's Walk of Shame". C'mon, admit it: If you have ever been a runner, you totally know what I'm talking about. That moment when your hip cramps up or you realize you didn't fuel properly for a 2-hour uphill run. You push past the pain, but you notice that your pace is getting slower and slower. Then it happens. The running turns to jogging and the jogging turns to a slow-motion Baywatch Pamela Anderson bounce and that... well, that turns into a walk. You pout. You kick the rocks you pass. Grrrrr. You are disappointed in yourself and feel like a failure. Stop denying it... you KNOW that feeling. You relate to that feeling.
This morning, I committed the dreaded Runner's Walk of Shame.
It all started two days ago. My friend Zack invited me to go run the route to his new trail race series with him. It was a long bike day for me, but I asked my coach if I could swap it out and do half my bike and the rest as a run. He kindly agreed and switched my training plan for me.
Maybe it was the three cups of coffee I had chugged that morning; maybe it was the lack of water in my system; whatever it was, my calf started cramping in the middle of the run. I've never experienced a calf cramp before. I wasn't quite sure what to do about it. I went home and foam rolled. No problem, right? Except it was a problem. Foam rolling it sent pangs of compressing, pulsing pain throughout my right calf.
The next day, I taught a 70-minute cycle class. That was followed by an hour of Pilates. After Pilates, I met up with Amy for that trail run. After the run, I went to the pool to swim 2,600 meters. I noticed the firmness of my lower leg during Pilates, but didn't think much of it. It was not until the trail run that I felt the heat. Shoot, shoot, shoot! Girl, what are you doing? We got to the top and Amy asked how I was doing. I slapped my calf and it felt like wood... in fact, it looked like wood. There was no shake, no wobble, no movement... The problem was clear: My legs are obviously stronger than my arms. Must be all those stadiums, cycle classes and squats. Just call me the calf master.
I remember walking up the stairs with Miriam at Monica's wedding. "Whoa girl," she said. "You have fantastic calves." Yeah, I do. Actually, that was the first time I realized my lower legs were stellar. Thanks for that confidence booster, Miriam!
On to the main story: Last night, I talked to my coach about my morning track workout. "I think you should do it," he said. "But I want you to chug 10 ounces of water before bed and 12 ounces at 4:30AM, an hour before your run." I followed his advice, but when I woke up this morning, I could tell immediately that today was not my day.
"Shake it off, Ash," I told myself. "It's all mental." So I ran to the track. The warm-up felt okay. I was stiff, but nothing seemed too out of whack. Rusty gave me the workout and I joined my group to run 8x200. Odds at :40, Evens at :50. That felt okay, even though I was at the back of the pack. My calf was very tight and my hip kept locking up, creating a weird cave-in of my knee as my right Mizuno hit the track. Next on the menu was a 2k, 4x800's and another 2k. No problem. I could get through this.
Then the first lemon was given. Two-hundred meters into my first 2k, my hip totally locked up and I caught myself and slowed down to a jog. I looked ahead to the group ahead of me... almost 100 full meters in front of me. I heard two runners breathing hard behind me. I pulled over to the football field. Ahh. This hurts. I galloped up the green pathway to Rusty. He looked confused.
"I can't do this. My hip is bothering me; I'm going to go see Kelly today."
I walked off the track and straight to the gym for a good foam roll. I thought that would help make the rest of my 3-mile run home a little bit easier, but an 11:00 mile was the fastest I could muster before the pain took me out. I sucked it up and ran it home. Stupid lemon. It had better start squeezing out some juice before Sunday.
On a positive not, here is my lemonade for the day: There is some evidence that big calf muscles can help you run faster. Woohoo! And life is wonderful once again. http://www.livestrong.com/article/437390-does-having-big-calf-muscles-make-you-faster/
Monday, February 11, 2013
The Blog About Being Beautiful
A man recently told me I had swagger. Swagger.
Dictionary.com defines SWAGGER as:
Wow. That sounds pretty manly.
Last Friday night, Amy and I had date night. We went out to a delicious Thai meal: Coconut soup, brown rice and coconut tofu curry. Afterwards, we went back to my place to spend some time with Yomi since her husband was out of town. Yomi is all about beauty and make-up and fancy clothes. She owns this entire nail salon kit and insisted on doing Amy's and my nails. I'll admit I was hesitant, especially about putting bright pink sparkly polish on my fingernails. But they turned out nicely. Sometimes I look down and see a flash of pink; it catches me off guard. "What is on my hand?! ... oh right... I'm a girl." Plus... I am really enjoying the smooth feel of the gel on the tips of my digits.
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Sarah came into town to visit her boyfriend this past weekend. We went into town to grab coffee in between my jobs; while we were there, she wanted to hop into Sephora. I don't wear make-up. In fact, the little amount of make-up I do own is from middle school and has been used maybe a handful of times. Hmmmm... I'm pretty sure you are supposed to throw it out after 6 months or something of the sort. So when we passed the eyeliner section, I decided to pick up a couple of pencils. Yup... I even wore it yesterday. It is true, I may have swagger, but I am still a lady.
Yay for mud masks, eyeliner and cute dresses.
Dictionary.com defines SWAGGER as:
Verb
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Noun
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Adjective
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Synonyms
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Wow. That sounds pretty manly.
Last Friday night, Amy and I had date night. We went out to a delicious Thai meal: Coconut soup, brown rice and coconut tofu curry. Afterwards, we went back to my place to spend some time with Yomi since her husband was out of town. Yomi is all about beauty and make-up and fancy clothes. She owns this entire nail salon kit and insisted on doing Amy's and my nails. I'll admit I was hesitant, especially about putting bright pink sparkly polish on my fingernails. But they turned out nicely. Sometimes I look down and see a flash of pink; it catches me off guard. "What is on my hand?! ... oh right... I'm a girl." Plus... I am really enjoying the smooth feel of the gel on the tips of my digits.
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.JPG)
Sarah came into town to visit her boyfriend this past weekend. We went into town to grab coffee in between my jobs; while we were there, she wanted to hop into Sephora. I don't wear make-up. In fact, the little amount of make-up I do own is from middle school and has been used maybe a handful of times. Hmmmm... I'm pretty sure you are supposed to throw it out after 6 months or something of the sort. So when we passed the eyeliner section, I decided to pick up a couple of pencils. Yup... I even wore it yesterday. It is true, I may have swagger, but I am still a lady.
Yay for mud masks, eyeliner and cute dresses.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
From Beach Bum to Tri Addict
Though the clock reads 12:10AM on Thursday morning, my body still thinks it is 3:10PM on Wednesday. There is no logic happening in these muscles right now. Yes, it is 12:10 AM and I am writing a blog. Why are you writing a blog so late at night, you ask? Well, I'm wired. I literally just walked in the door from a gnarly 35-mile bike ride. Bike ride in the dark, you ask? Yes, but don't worry... I was indoors watching Beyonce dance and listening to ACDC... the combo doesn't go together so well.
I once wrote a blog about defining one's life. It was when I was in Wyoming and had come to the conclusion that family and friends were more important than getting that extra 10-minutes of training in. That's when I gained 15 pounds. Mmmmm delicious. I'll tell you what was delicious: Those bags of dried mango I bought by the dozen on my food buys. Not to mention Anne's zucchini muffins... there are reasons I work out so hard: I love my sweets.
Back to defining one's life... These past couple of months, I have noticed that my life comes and goes in time blocks. When I am in one block of time, I am totally committed to that block. For instance, there was a block of time where I was obsessed with surfing. I owned every issue of Surfing, Foam, Surfer, etc. and wore only Roxy, O'Neil and Billabong brand clothing. I knew every surf shop in San Diego and practiced pop-ups in my bedroom every morning. I owned more movies with titles like Endless Summer and Step Into Liquid than anyone I knew. In my senior high school year book, I was voted Most Likely to Become a Beach Bum. I went to college in California specifically so I could be next to the ocean and study the waves more than I studied my Anatomy text book ...You get the idea.
Surfing defined me. I was the surfer girl; but a funny thing happened. One morning I woke up and I was no longer the surfer girl. Other things took priority and my ability to paddle into a lineup slowly faded away. Did I say slowly faded? I meant crashed and burned within a day.
As I look back at that block of my life, it feels like I'm viewing the life of someone else. I don't recognize that girl and I don't relate. I want to, but I just don't. The same thing happens when I think about ex-boyfriends; it feels like they dated one of my friends and I know the story of their relationship, but I wasn't actually a part of it. It is as if I phase that block out of my life completely. I guess you can look at this as sad, but I prefer to see it as a girl who just keeps on evolving.
For the past two years, my life has been defined by the sport of triathlon. Sure, I've ventured out and tried ultra running, cooking and rock climbing, but triathlon keeps sneaking back into my life. It has become more evident now than ever before. My coach has me doing 2-4 workouts a day, which requires getting out of bed between 4:50-6:30 AM every day and hitting the sack somewhere between 11-12 every evening, depending on the day. I'm not complaining; I truly love it. I still try to make time for friends, too, so I haven't totally gone off the deep end. On Tuesdays, I have coffee in the morning with Jameisha and Lara after my run. Later in the evening, Kristine and I have begun a tradition of an hour-long swim followed by cooking a new recipe we find on Pinterest (thank God for Pinterest). Saturdays are my "day of rest", so I sometimes make an appearance with a friend then as well... okay... so maybe my training does take a front seat... but I have made a lot of new friends. Karen and I ran an extra 5 miles after our Tuesday morning track workout last week and this Tuesday, Jay and I went for an extra 6 while he told me about his introduction to running. Plus, it's great when Kristine or Jameisha join me in the pool.
I sincerely hope this block of my life lasts for awhile. I will be sad to see it go; to see the goggles disappear from my shower and the books by Dave Scott and Joel Friel get pushed to the back of my bookshelf. But I know the next stage of my life will be just as exciting if not more exciting than where I am now.
Cheers to good things yet to come and great things happening now (aka to blocks of life well spent)!
I once wrote a blog about defining one's life. It was when I was in Wyoming and had come to the conclusion that family and friends were more important than getting that extra 10-minutes of training in. That's when I gained 15 pounds. Mmmmm delicious. I'll tell you what was delicious: Those bags of dried mango I bought by the dozen on my food buys. Not to mention Anne's zucchini muffins... there are reasons I work out so hard: I love my sweets.
Back to defining one's life... These past couple of months, I have noticed that my life comes and goes in time blocks. When I am in one block of time, I am totally committed to that block. For instance, there was a block of time where I was obsessed with surfing. I owned every issue of Surfing, Foam, Surfer, etc. and wore only Roxy, O'Neil and Billabong brand clothing. I knew every surf shop in San Diego and practiced pop-ups in my bedroom every morning. I owned more movies with titles like Endless Summer and Step Into Liquid than anyone I knew. In my senior high school year book, I was voted Most Likely to Become a Beach Bum. I went to college in California specifically so I could be next to the ocean and study the waves more than I studied my Anatomy text book ...You get the idea.
 |
| Easter morning surf sess with Rebecca and Torrey |
 |
| Maui |
Surfing defined me. I was the surfer girl; but a funny thing happened. One morning I woke up and I was no longer the surfer girl. Other things took priority and my ability to paddle into a lineup slowly faded away. Did I say slowly faded? I meant crashed and burned within a day.
As I look back at that block of my life, it feels like I'm viewing the life of someone else. I don't recognize that girl and I don't relate. I want to, but I just don't. The same thing happens when I think about ex-boyfriends; it feels like they dated one of my friends and I know the story of their relationship, but I wasn't actually a part of it. It is as if I phase that block out of my life completely. I guess you can look at this as sad, but I prefer to see it as a girl who just keeps on evolving.
For the past two years, my life has been defined by the sport of triathlon. Sure, I've ventured out and tried ultra running, cooking and rock climbing, but triathlon keeps sneaking back into my life. It has become more evident now than ever before. My coach has me doing 2-4 workouts a day, which requires getting out of bed between 4:50-6:30 AM every day and hitting the sack somewhere between 11-12 every evening, depending on the day. I'm not complaining; I truly love it. I still try to make time for friends, too, so I haven't totally gone off the deep end. On Tuesdays, I have coffee in the morning with Jameisha and Lara after my run. Later in the evening, Kristine and I have begun a tradition of an hour-long swim followed by cooking a new recipe we find on Pinterest (thank God for Pinterest). Saturdays are my "day of rest", so I sometimes make an appearance with a friend then as well... okay... so maybe my training does take a front seat... but I have made a lot of new friends. Karen and I ran an extra 5 miles after our Tuesday morning track workout last week and this Tuesday, Jay and I went for an extra 6 while he told me about his introduction to running. Plus, it's great when Kristine or Jameisha join me in the pool.
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| First at Scott Tinley long course |
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| Practicing the Wildflower bike course with Sloan last year |
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| Delicious Tuesday evening meal with Kristine |
Cheers to good things yet to come and great things happening now (aka to blocks of life well spent)!
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Twenty-six for Sandy Hook
On December 12 of last year, twenty students and six staff members were shot at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newton, Connecticut. It was the second deadliest mass murder and school shooting in America's history. It's amazing to think that one day this will be read in history textbooks. Reading the details of the horrific event makes the stomach turn, but it is in times of sadness and loss that Americans tend to band together to help those in need.
Obama appeared on television that afternoon telling Americans: "We're going to have to come together and take meaningful action to prevent more tragedies like this, regardless of the politics." Come together we did. Concerts were held across the US, with all of the proceeds going directly to Sandy Hook Elementary. Thousands of teddy bears were sent to the remaining students of the Connecticut grade school.
On the other side of the country, in Southern California, Santa Barbara Running Company hosted a benefit run/walk for the Sandy Hook School Support Fund (https://
The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines community as a unified body of individuals. The people who showed up to the Sandy Hook Benefit Run/Walk were all unified with a desire to help another group of people in their time of need; this was truly an act of community. At the end of the 26-minute event, Santa Barbara Running Company raised $1,140 for the families and friends of the victims of the December 12th shooting.
Santa Barbara Running would like to thank each person who came out to help support the cause. Thank you to Handlebar Coffee who donated the delicious coffee that kept everyone warm, energized and caffeinated; as always, it was delicious. KEYT joined us at the beach to do a story on the event, so a big thank you also goes out to the station.
Our hearts go out to kids and teachers who were taken far too soon!
Obama appeared on television that afternoon telling Americans: "We're going to have to come together and take meaningful action to prevent more tragedies like this, regardless of the politics." Come together we did. Concerts were held across the US, with all of the proceeds going directly to Sandy Hook Elementary. Thousands of teddy bears were sent to the remaining students of the Connecticut grade school.
On the other side of the country, in Southern California, Santa Barbara Running Company hosted a benefit run/walk for the Sandy Hook School Support Fund (https://
The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines community as a unified body of individuals. The people who showed up to the Sandy Hook Benefit Run/Walk were all unified with a desire to help another group of people in their time of need; this was truly an act of community. At the end of the 26-minute event, Santa Barbara Running Company raised $1,140 for the families and friends of the victims of the December 12th shooting.
Santa Barbara Running would like to thank each person who came out to help support the cause. Thank you to Handlebar Coffee who donated the delicious coffee that kept everyone warm, energized and caffeinated; as always, it was delicious. KEYT joined us at the beach to do a story on the event, so a big thank you also goes out to the station.
Our hearts go out to kids and teachers who were taken far too soon!
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